Bac to Bac

Miles

Artie and I were deep in the woods and had been arduously trekking for maybe an hour. My parents got me a compass for my birthday and I was pumped to use it. We could only take our bikes up the trail for a little while before it became too overgrown to keep riding, so we ditched them and continued on foot. I was sure that if we went far enough north we'd reach the creek, and no matter how hard Artie tried to convince me otherwise my resolve couldn't be shaken. For Artie, it was either leave me alone in the woods or trudge along with me. So there he was, clambering along behind me as I bulldozed my way through the dense foliage.

"Miles, we're going to get ticks!" Artie had been whining about this and that for the last fifteen minutes and I'd been brushing him off. I think he finally realized I wasn't going to stop and just resorted to throwing out any excuse he could think of.

"No, we won't. And I told you to get long socks!"

"I couldn't find any..." He sounded so disappointed. Then, silence.

For maybe ten seconds.

"How much furtherrrr... We've been walking for like fifteen hundred million hours."

"You're supposed to say it one thousand five hundred."

"You can say it either way." Artie retorted quickly and defensively.

"No, you can't."

"Yes, you can."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yes huh!"

"I bet you can't even count to one thousand." I challenged.

Silence.

I turned around and Artie was standing there, scowling.

"Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightnineteneleven" He just kept going and going so I turned around and continued on.

I started to hear a babbling sound and I sped up, excited to prove myself correct. I crested the hill and there it was, the creek that flowed from the river in town through the park that Artie and I always went to. I knew it would be there. Unfortunately, only a sliver of the creak was even wet. I was hoping to go swimming but it didn't look like that was happening anywhere close by. I didn't want to go too far up or down the creek. All I really knew how to do was follow the compass directly north or south. Looks like we were hanging out in the mud and rocks for the day.

A red-faced Artie finally came over the hill, huffing and puffing. He pushed his glasses up his nose and shot me a glare.

"I don't think it was worth it." He said vehemently. I could tell he was really trying to say something mean and was completely oblivious to how polite he still sounded.

We climbed some trees, tried to skip some rocks, built a dam, broke down the dam, hunted for crayfish. Everything we could think of to do in the wilderness, we did. We were walking along the bank searching for salamanders when I found a huge fallen tree that spanned all the way across the creek bed. My immediate instinct was to climb. I had just reached the top as Artie came around the bend.

"Come across with me!" I called from the top of the log, a solid eight feet above Artie.

"We're going to fall!" Artie... Such a worrywart. But he said we, not you.

"No, we won't. It's big enough, just come up here already."

Artie scrambled up the end of the log as I started making my way across. I was doing just fine, no problems. I had gotten to the highest point of the log, maybe ten or twelve feet off of the ground, and was congratulating myself on my courage and bravery. But then I heard Artie's feet scuffle frantically against the log. I suddenly turned, thinking he was falling off, and my foot caught the base of a branch. I went down.

Everything happened in slow motion. Artie reached out toward me to try to pull me back up but I was out of reach. As I fell I watched him flap his arms, rebalancing himself just barely. I tried to land on my feet and I kind of succeeded, but my feet slid out from underneath me on the wet rocks. The creek bed was unforgiving as my weight hit the ground hard. For a second I felt nothing. My vision went blurry and white, and the wind was violently knocked out of me. I gasped desperately for a moment, then pain sank in, and fire lanced through my foot. I looked down. My foot was hanging limp from my ankle.

I screamed.

"Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh..." Artie was anxiously muttering to himself as he rushed back across and then down the log.

Suddenly he entered my vision, crouching over me with a stricken look on his face.

"Miles, oh my gosh. Are you okay? Oh my gosh. What are we gonna do." Tears were welling in his eyes and his entire body was shaking.

I could feel hot tears streaming down my face and I was sobbing helplessly. Still, I was cognizant of the fact that my reaction was not helping Artie any. He was going to have to calm down if we were going to figure this out.

"Artie, it's okay. I'll be fine." It hurt so badly to eek the words out, but I needed to say something to get Artie to relax.

I could tell he wanted to believe me as he tried to ground himself by looking into my eyes. But then he risked a look at my ankle, and he suddenly spun around heaving.

I tried to sit up and a scream tore out of me before I could even attempt to hold it in. Artie covered his ears. I fell flat again to the ground and more sobs came out.

Suddenly, Artie was back at my side.

"Okay, okay, okay. Where is hurt?"

"Foot. Head. Chest."

"Okay, can you get up?"

It was a mission, but I did it. Artie had to support most of my weight but I got to my feet. Or should I say got to my foot? I hobbled and pain coursed through my leg in waves. I felt each pulse of my heart pounding through my foot, and distantly I heard myself whimper as if I was an outside observer. Artie pulled my arm around his shoulders and slowly we made our way out of the creek and back toward our bikes. It took two hours to get back to the trail and I don't really remember much of it. I just remember Artie's voice in my ear reassuring me, telling me that I can make it and that we'd be home soon. I remember almost falling multiple times, and I was so sure I was about to tumble onto my bad foot, when suddenly Artie grabbed me and righted me again. I think I might have lost consciousness after that. The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital, my leg in a sling and my torso wrapped tightly. Artie was sleeping sitting in a chair next to the mattress, his head resting on my leg

********

I dream about that day a lot, I have since it happened. My brain has held onto that day my whole life. Most of the time, it was the good parts I'd dream about. Just glimpses, a moment of us skipping rocks, or catching minnows. Sometimes though, on nights like last night, my brain makes me relive the horribly painful moments. While I didn't feel the physical pain of that day, the emotions that I had done a decent job of quelling would resurface. I'd wake up sweaty, anxious, and afraid. I was stupid and I would have just as easily gone alone if Artie wasn't looking out for me. On the way back to the trail I remember just giving up and letting myself drop, ready to curl up in a ball and cry. But there Artie was to keep me on my good foot, determined to get me to safety. For years I've woken up thinking about how Artie helped me that day. Normally after having a dream like that, I'd lay in bed wondering what Artie was doing. I'd wonder if he ever thought about me too. This time though I didn't have to wonder, I could feel his soft puffs of breath on my chest. I think when I woke up that morning, that was the moment it truly sank in how miraculous it was to have him back. I fell back to sleep holding him tightly to my side.

The next time I woke up the morning after the party my head was foggy as fuck. My brain felt like it was filled with cotton balls and focusing on any one thing too hard made my stomach roil. I knew I had to get up, hydrate, and eat some food but the idea of righting my body into a sitting position sounded like self-harm to me. Fucking jungle juice. I just lay there for a while, refusing to intake any information and remaining in the limbo between wakefulness and sleep. One thing was helping though: Artie. His solidness against my side felt like a heated, weighted blanket. Mentally and physically. I curled my arm tighter around him trying to absorb as much comfort as possible. I disturbed his sleep and he softly rubbed his nose on my pec before settling back in. I would periodically catch a whiff of the alcohol I had spilled all over my shirt and it would almost make me gag, but then Artie's faint scent would come through and my stomach would settle again. He smelled really fucking nice, like a hike in the woods.

He felt good too. I was laying on my back with my arm around him and he was nestled snugly into the crook. My hand, which was on his lower back, was making direct contact with the skin his ridden-up shirt revealed. It was so smooth. I had a dense patch of hair right on that spot on my back and I was fascinated by his smoothness. My fingers drifted back and forth, softly brushing across his skin. He squirmed and puffed some air out of his nose. I stopped bothering him and laid my hand flat, quickly falling back to sleep.

The third time I woke up that morning Artie's upper body was completely over mine and his head was resting on my chest like it was a pillow. There was a small wet spot on my shirt in front of Artie's mouth.

Nice.

I delicately grabbed my phone off the windowsill and took a long burst of pictures for blackmail. My head was pounding and movement was only making it worse, but it was either that or continue being drooled on. I removed Artie from my personal space and slowly got to my feet. I wobbled. What did I need to do? Food. Water. Shower. I groggily got my shit together and fumbled down the hall to the bathroom using the wall as support.

I stood in the shower letting it wash over me for way too long. I usually try not to waste water but fuck did I need that. I felt so much better by the end, and I turned it cold at the last second to really wake my ass up. I brushed my teeth cautiously, careful not to brush too far back on my tongue. I always puke so easy the morning after a night of drinking. A couple of times I accidentally made myself gag but I prevented the worst.

A solid thirty minutes later Artie hadn't moved an inch from where I placed him. I got dressed and downed every ounce of water I could find around the room. I needed carbs bad but the idea of sitting in the packed dining hall with the dishes clanging and the loud ass conversations was making my head throb. Fuck the dining hall for not letting us carry out. What the hell is up with that shit. I pulled up Lucy's website to place an order. I can make it there and back, I know I can. I grabbed my noise-canceling headphones and my sunglasses to insulate myself from any and all stimuli.

I made it there and back in record time, just trying to get home and lay my ass in bed. I prepped Artie's food how he liked it and the smell woke him up more effectively than I ever could. He was up in like five seconds flat, rubbing his eyes and searching for his glasses. Once he became conscious enough to realize what was happening he shook his head.

"Thank you, Miles. I'd say that you need to let me pay next time but I have a feeling you're going to just keep sneaking away to get them." I waved my hands in the air frantically and put my finger to my lips in a shushing motion. I whispered my response.

"Please, quietly. My head fucking kills."

"Oh. Gotcha." He whispered back even quieter than I had. What a guy. I gave him a thumbs up and handed him his food.

"I'd say I'd let you pay next time, but that would be a lie," I whispered as he grabbed utensils from the bag.

Artie scoffed but the corners of his lips were pulling upward. We chowed down quick. For Artie that was nothing unusual but I could feel myself eating like a man starved. As soon as I opened the container and the smell hit me my mind went blank until the contents were in my stomach. I sank into my chair, satiated.

"You got shit to do today?" I looked over to Artie who had finished slightly before I had and was laying fully prone in my bed.

"Yeah, I guess. The first Swim Club meeting is today, same with the Green Club."

"Frisbee is in the afternoon, Basketball is tonight..." I replied. Expending enough energy to take part in sports any time in the near future seemed like a pipe dream.

I looked over again at Artie who looked just about as dejected by the prospect as I felt.

"Wanna skip?" We both said at the same time.

Thank fucking god.

I know it was just a dream, but sometimes that specific one would exhaust me emotionally before I had even started the day. I just wanted to spend the rest of it lying in bed, in Artie's company. Artie hadn't moved and was still spread across my whole bed. I took off my sweatpants and sweatshirt and came over, pushing him to the wall so I had room to lie down. Back to bed.

I woke up again I don't even know when. Artie was once again splayed across me, this time awake. One arm was thrown completely around me and was fiddling with a switch remote. His other was curled under him and his chin was resting directly on my sternum.

"Chin," I whispered roughly.

"Oh. Sorry!" Artie immediately laid his head flat on my chest and my hand came up to rub the spot he'd been digging into.

"You're good. What time is it?" My hand that was around Artie came up to ruffle his hair. My muscles were still sluggish from sleep though, and it ended up being more of a caress. Artie sighed contentedly.

"Two-thirty."

"Mmph." I tuned back out.

I didn't quite fall back to sleep again, just rested my eyes. I felt significantly better than I did earlier in the morning but I still gave myself the rest of the day. A few pills of ibuprofen and forty ounces of water later I was able to play some games and spend some time with Artie. Around six we hit the dining hall for dinner. Campus was dead so the dining halls were pretty empty, thankfully. I definitely made it quick though. Back at the dorm Artie and I had pulled up Netflix on my laptop and we were scrolling through it when my phone rang. Instantly I knew who it was and I cursed myself for completely forgetting to call Nat back. I grabbed my phone and left Artie to find something to watch while I took the call. I headed to the stairwell across from our room, the closest semi-private space I could think of. The door clicked shut and I hit Accept Call.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Hi."

"Hey, baby. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well, Miles. How are you?" Her tone was proper, a little too proper.

I was crossing my fingers she wasn't pissed at me for missing her calls all week. She didn't start classes until tomorrow so I guess I just subconsciously figured she was busy getting ready and wouldn't mind if I was MIA.

"Good, tired. Got a little too messed up last night and been hungover as shit."

"Miles overestimating his alcohol tolerance? Shocking." Her voice was biting. I didn't even need to look at the screen to know she was rolling her eyes.

Yep, I'm definitely in trouble.

"How was your week? What have you been up to?" I had no idea how to diffuse the situation. I was just throwing out the first things that came to mind.

"It was fine. Getting ready for school. I'm more curious about what you've been up to." Her inflection wasn't quite accusatory but it was definitely clipped.

I gave her a basic run-down of my week and got her caught up with what my plans were for my extracurriculars. As I went through the days she became more and more gloomy, but she started asking questions and acting interested. So that's a good sign, right?

"Sounds like you had a good week. I'm glad you had fun." She seemed genuine but slightly... resigned? Resigned to what? Not a clue.

"Definitely good, still have homework to do before tomorrow morning though."

"Goodnight then, talk to you later."

"Wait, I didn't mean I had to go. I was just saying."

"No, it's fine. I have an early morning tomorrow. Goodnight, Miles." The three boops indicated she hung the fuck up on me.

Nat and I rarely disagreed. We argued even less, and full-blown fought even less than that. Shit between us was usually so chill but occasionally when Nat gets pissed she won't be forthright about what her problem is. It was so antithetical to how she usually was, she's such a no-bullshit person. Sometimes that all just goes out the window and she gets petty. I don't fucking know. Maybe she'll feel better in the morning. Usually, I give her some time to cool off and everything goes back to normal.

When I got back to the room Artie had already changed into his signature pajama pants and had formed a nest out of my bedding. He looked up when I entered and he had the most hopeful look on his face.

"Harry Potter?"

Mother fuck.

Those movies are so fucking long. I completely forgot about how obsessed with Harry Potter Artie was. When we were kids he would try to get me to watch them on DVD with him pretty much every day after school. But how could I say no to that face? I imagined how torn up he'd look if I said no and I just couldn't find it in me to deny him.

I nodded my head and he glowed.

I piled onto the bed with him and forced him to make room in the nest for me. It took some effort but we eventually figured out a way for us both to recline and still have an equal view of the screen. Just as I was about to hit play, Artie jumped off the bed. Bruh.

"Wait! Give me three minutes!" He ruffled through his side of the closet and disappeared through the door. As soon as he came back I could smell the popcorn he popped.

"Artie... You're a genius." He stuck his arm out and stage bowed like the dork he is.

We reoriented ourselves into our original position and played the movie. We spent the next six some odd hours watching Harry Potter movies and making our way through the exorbitantly large bowl of popcorn Artie popped for us. I remember falling asleep that night knowing I needed to probably get ready for the next day, but being way too content to do anything about it. I passed out with Artie spooned in front of me, my face buried in his soft hair.

And so went our couple weeks at school. We finally got around to attending some club events. So along with class, fraternity events, the dining hall, and the gym, we were booked solid. We'd hit up the dining hall for breakfast then split up for classes, meet up for lunch, then classes again. Various extracurriculars after class, and then chilling in the dorm doing homework or playing on the Switch together. I tried my best to get all my schoolwork done by Friday so Artie and I could spend the weekends chilling out and doing whatever we wanted. Those were the days I always looked forward to. I love to veg the fuck out but I don't let myself do it very often. With Artie as an excuse, I found myself spending our weekends mostly in bed laying around with him and doing nothing. Occasionally we'd make it to a club meeting or two and hit the gym, but other than that it was mostly just chilling.

When I first decided to transfer I was low-key worried I was going to have trouble acclimating. I can be social, meet people and make a good impression, but I rarely if ever did a good job at making long-term friendships. A part of me was worried I'd have trouble making real friends. Worried that I'd be lonely and that moving again would turn out to have been a mistake. By the end of those first few weeks, I could barely even remember what I was worried about. I woke up every day excited to spend it with Artie, excited to go to class and learn about something I was genuinely interested in, and excited to meet all the people campus had to offer. My expectations were blown out of the water and I couldn't have been more grateful.

********

Labor Day came and went. I was supposed to hop on a Greyhound to go back home and visit Nat but that, uh, didn't end up happening. Artie and I had a business fraternity obligation the Sunday before Labor Day and there was no way I was going to be able to make it there and back on time. Normally that wouldn't be a big deal, Nat's an understanding person. I fucked up though and I didn't let her know until the last minute. In my defense, I didn't find out it was mandatory until a week before but Nat was still pissed. I had been doing a slightly better job of keeping in contact with her but I knew deep down I was still doing a half-assed job. That first week I just got so pumped about all the shit I had access to and I think I over-committed myself. Pile Artie on top of that and I've had no bandwidth for thinking about what was going on outside of campus.