Page 121 of Drift

Not waiting to see if he followed, Light bypassed the lounge and the view of the indoor pool. The latter seemed to take West’s interest more, and she nudged into Drift, throwing a smile his way. A wink. A “You… definitely me.”

Light opened the farthest door, and as Drift came in behind him, burying a blush badly, his look went to the floor.

“Fuck….” Drift instantly slipped his trainers and socks off only to take a few paces forward and stand like he was at the water’s edge, dipping his toes to test how much he sank into wet sand flooring.

The custom-made Gymnastics spring floor was a new addition, brought in to ease damage on Simon with both Gray and Light bringing his skills up to a decent brown belt grade, and in order to fight all the stress away, Light figured Drift’s head and heart would always opt for a de-stress in the parkour cellar back at Jackson’s, a workout of the top parkour skills thatdidearn him a right to drift among crews.

True to theory, Drift tugged off his jacket, then a glance back at West, he tossed it almost blindly her way, earning hima groan, an “And he’s gone”. Then with a few stretches and maybe a little too much anger, Drift shifted so damn fast, his slip-stream body hitting a stream of effortless single hand front aerial flips and twists that left Light struggling to follow which was which. This wasn’t showing off, just pure aggression, and it saw him cover half the circumference of the large flooring before Light knew it.

But then everything around Drift seemed to change, became more… chameleon, pinpointing Drift’s ability to blend from crew to crew as he shifted into… into such a fine damn blend of classical ballet and lyrical dance, blending genres as much as Light blended intricate styles of music on his guitar because….

Christ. Music.

Drift had said it did strange things to his head—and whatever tune he danced to privately in his head, there it was: heat, drive, body, and pure artistic dancing… skill. But there seemed such a sadness to it.

In one way he called out to draw anyone in to play if they wanted to, yet in his self-isolation, in not letting anyone hear the music he danced to, dancing alone seemed all he was ever really condemned to do, and sometimes, maybe sometimes, it’s all he wanted. To be condemned to dance alone.

West’s drop in smile and her onlook from the sidelines called it as she eased down the wall and sat down. Her hum came softly, then as she started on some lyrics—Drift’s softer movement returned her call, bringing the hall to life.

Light knew the song. Ruth B’s “Lost Boy,” and West’s cover version was… soul-taking. In her view of the world, Peter covered Wendy in Pixie dust, making her a lost boy, both now forever caught running through the forest and hiding away fromCaptain Hook and life’s insanity, but they wanted it no other way.

Was that how they’d met? With Drift at her window, wanting in…. West always looking out, needing the escape? Or had it been the other way around?

Giving a gentle smile down at his feet, Light went over and sat next to West, then took out the guitar. He added a string of acoustics, and a knowing, soft look came from West that almost called out how lost boys always seemed to find each other no matter the years in between. And yeah, maybe Light would always be one of the lost boys…. Then she was as lost back on Drift, her song, Light’s music and Drift’s dance playing the hall.

Eventually West fell quiet for a moment, and Drift stopped in the same breath. Then as Light continued to play, Drift came over and offered a gentle touch to his heart West’s way, a kiss to his lips before offering his hand down to her.

West took it, then carried on singing as Drift twisted her gently around into the middle of the floor. Coming to a stop, he shifted in close behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. West looked down at his touch on her as she sang—then she was following all the complexity of his moves, caught in them but never wanting to be free of the Lost Boys story either.

Fuck. This—thiswas how they worked the street together.

Thiswas how Drift earned his keep with Jackson.

Not the feeding, not the fighting, not the running, just him, West, and the way they owned each other through the music in order to forget all the horrors out there, if only for as long as the song lasted.

Movement by the door caught Light’s attention, and he looked over.

Knee raised, arm across it, Martin sat close to the door, his ear tilted towards the dancefloor. He’d been there for a while, but as usual, Light hadn’t picked it up.

Drift didn’t notice for a moment either, not until he drew the dance to a slow stop. His look never left Martin’s, and his hold stayed protectively around West as he looked over her shoulder at Martin now Light stopped his touch on guitar as well.

“Oh don’t stop on my account.”

Martin’s words came Light’s way, but it was meant for Drift and West. He’d said the same so many years back on first meeting Light in the hall, and Light hadn’t understood it back then, how this was a real glimpse at who Martin could be. Martin only came into play when Jack was under stress, so his first listen to live music back with Light had been the first. And now, listening to West… seeing Drift dance with her, he was seeing and feeling the performance in real time for the first time as well, and his quiet called he was such a natural lover of it away from all of the mind games. It was why Martin only had one song on his playlist. He preferred it live.

Drift didn’t move, not for a moment, then a side glance at West, he came over. Saying nothing, he sat facing Martin on the floor, and for long moments, all he did was watch, all wariness there in his eyes.

Martin watched him back, so relaxed, no rush in his eyes to disturb his calm.

After a moment, Drift nodded and held his hand out to West. West came over and took it, and Drift eased her down next to him.

“This is West,” Drift said quietly, even though Martin knew her name. “I carry too much dirt on my skin, and I’m terrified she’ll catch it from me. I’m worried I’ll take her down with it. She also knows I’m nervous, maybe a little more confused over how she’s transgender. But what she doesn’t know is that I’ve always only ever seen the girl I grew up with. Hitting puberty was the issue, not her, because as a kid, I’d laugh at how she’d have to toss one of my trainers in the Thames in order to beat me back home. But as a teen… as a teen I lived for how she’d toss that same trainer in the Thames to win the run home, all because she’d lean into my shoulder and her long hair would shift across her lips as she laughed with me for losing. And I’ll always be stood there, losing myself to that lean into my shoulder, into how the wind whips her hair across her lips.”

West looked down at the hands in her lap, hurt in her eyes, but it looked such a damn good hurt.

“Give me your goddamn word she’ll be safe around you when all my instincts are crying out to run far and wide from you, then us…?” Drift danced a finger between him and Martin. “We’ll be okay. But I need to know she’ll be okay around you, because I’m picking up that no one is ever really safe here. And I’m only really okay if I knowshe’sokay.”

Martin watched him for long moments, then shifted his attention to West.

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