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2 : E I G H T E E N C A N D L E S

I CHECK MY LOOK IN THE MIRROR

WANNA CHANGE MY CLOTHES, MY HAIR, MY FACE

The Lone Ranger was a yellow rimmed beast that roared its presence down the swept streets of Sudden Valley.

Its driver was reckless, speeding down the wet tarmac with Springsteen blaring from every one of the truck's orifices. A hung moon glistened across a star spat sky, goading the speedometer on. Tires screeched, ripping around a tight corner and onto the cosy streets of Lake Forks Road. Dozens of golden squares glittered back, uniformity broken only by a single window clouded with a nervous black silhouette pacing back and forth.

Jensen Chavers stopped before his bedroom mirror. His ears prickled at a sound that could only be Noah raising hell down his street and he sighed. Nervous hands scrubbed his face as he attempted to calm himself down for the third time that evening.

"You look fine," he told himself, slapping wet palms down on his thighs. His stone washed jeans bristled at the contact and he shuffled across the room. The heels of his sneakers creaked along the hardwood, scuffing every few feet as he hovered at the side of his bed. An engine roared proudly just beyond his windows as he laid a hand upon the bulky landline on his bedside table. He sat down, the unmade mattress beneath him warping, and began his countdown.

Five

Four

Three

Two–

RING...

RING...

RING...

Jensen smiled to himself, rolling to the side as he removed the wireless handset from the holder. The plastic was cold against the curve of his cheek, a chill running down his spine as he sat up against his headboard. The wind had picked up, lashing at his curtains and throwing the fabric wildly against the walls. He frowned over at them, skin prickling beneath his white button-down.

"Chavers residence," he answered, pulling the phone back to double-check the caller I.D., adding, "If this is a medical emergency, kindly hang-up and dial 9-1-1."

"Look at you. Turned eighteen and suddenly you think you're funny. Cute," Noah replied, sarcasm dripping in every breath. Jensen strained to make out his best friend's words, buried under the still blaring music and the sound of rustling wind.

On the other end, Noah took a hard pull from his Double Gulp soda, throwing the cup out his truck's window as he sped down the street. No other cars passed by, allowing him to leisurely cruise in the middle of both lanes, hand dangling freely in the breeze. Against his chest bounced a silver pendant, glittering a faint blue in the passing light of street lamps. "Wrap up the last of your pity party, I'm only a minute or two away."

"You're lucky, I've been too preoccupied with my disfigurement to even bother mourning the fact I'm a year older," Jensen said, running a hand through his hair. The strands were damp with gel, applied haphazardly after his attempt at a brisk shower failed. He had spent a good hour under the lukewarm spray lost in thought, fingers lazily dragging liquid soap circles along his armpits. Getting out and dressed had taken more convincing than he liked to admit, though the iced cupcake his mother had left for him helped. Sure, it had hurt to return home to an empty house and a generic, unsigned, birthday card waiting for him on the counter, but he understood. His mother needed to work, and Sudden Valley Medical offered great pay albeit with terrible hours. She kept a roof over his head. Jensen had no real right to be anger at how she did it.

Down the line Noah audibly snorted, pulling Jensen from his brooding thoughts. Tires peeled against slick tarmac as Noah suddenly swerved, sound creaking in Jensen's ear. Dropping the handset to his chest, he bolted upright as the thud of music steadily grew louder outside his bedroom, coming from the top of his street. Peeling back his nets he made out the eyesore that was his friend's truck, matte green with near-deflated wheels that always looked moments away from skidding off.

"I should have never brought that stupid rash up. Forgot how delicate you are," Noah mumbled down the line and Jensen jumped when a honk blared. He squinted his gaze as Noah parked, the truck's bumper covered in dents that eerily matched the beaten mailbox beside it. "You better be ready to rumble, Jenny. And don't forget your ID. I can forgive a lot, but you getting us kicked out tonight I will not. Also if even a drop of tartan is anywhere on your person–"

"Save the monologue, I wore white like you asked," Jensen harried over, dropping the nets as rain began to trickle. Pressing the handset into the crook of his neck, he slammed his window shut. "I thought you said Andrew would hook us up with free drinks?"

Forcing himself to leave the comfort of his bed, Jensen head over to the hole in the wall which held his clothes. His bedroom's closet wasn't much more than a meter wide square with a shower curtain tacked in front of it. Exposed and rusting hinges left over from the old door, which sat discarded in the garage as a reminder of his mother's lie to one day get it fixed, were disguised under grey putty that Jensen carefully avoided.

"Better safe than sorry. But if you don't have one it's fine, I have a spare with your face on it," Noah replied, dropping his music down a notch and Jensen frowned, grabbing a maroon sweater. "Though I'm not entirely sure you pull of the name Enrico... Let's just hope three years of Spanish finally pays off for you."

"I'm not even going to ask," Jensen mumbled, tugging the sweater on as Noah audibly cut the engine of his truck. A door slammed, footsteps hurrying against slick gravel as Jensen wrestled his wallet loose from his old pair of jeans.

"Kojo's set ends at midnight so I'll park in the backlot, it'll be easier to leave from there and not have to Tokyo Drift our way around semi-drunk drivers," Noah chuckled breathily and Jensen shrugged.

"Whatever you say dude, you know the lay of the land better than I do," he responded, cheering to himself when his jeans finally released their death grip on the beaten leather.

"See, saying things like that have me convinced that if it weren't for me forcing you out of the house, you would've turned into a literal social disease by now," Noah said, tucking his pendant beneath the neckline of his shirt. He ran a slow hand over his chest, pressing the metal tight to skin as he continued to gripe, "'Lay of the land'? Hurry up and get down here so I can hit you for being so lame."

The line fell dead, dial tone pulsing in Jensen's ear until he hung up the phone. Tossing it onto his bed, Jensen stuffed his wallet into his mouth, bending down to lace up his sneakers. Hanging on the back of his desk chair was an old leather jacket that he threw over his shoulder, swiping his keys from the bowl on his desk. He paused in front of his mirror again, scanning over his appearance one last time. The peak of white, the broadness of his shoulders beneath his sweater, the leather jacket. He thought he looked okay, enough so to pass for a little older in a dive bar that only recently upgraded to actual light bulbs rather than oil lanterns.

Jogging down the stairs, he felt his way down the main hallway, reaching the solid wood front door. Pulling it open, he was immediately assaulted by a red box being thrust in his face.

"Happy, happy Birthday, Jenny," Noah crooned, batting his eyes as his lips pulled back in a grin. His sharp teeth glistened under the moonlight, stark white against his dark features and uneven. Jensen accepted the box as Noah dropped his shoulder on the doorframe.

"You need to seriously stop calling me that," Jensen huffed, tearing through the red wrapping paper. Underneath a plain wood box greeted him, varnished wood blinking back as he swiped a hand down its front.

"Habits die hard," Noah shrugged, jutting his head eagerly toward the box. "Open it already."

Arching a brow Jensen flicked the latch, nudging the box open with his thumbs. Inside sat a thick brown leather band, surface smooth and dotted with faint imprints. Pulling it free, Jensen noticed his name was printed into the back in bold red letters, alongside his birthday. "Don't tell me they're matching."

Noah scowled, reaching out to snatch the bracelet back.

"Fine then," he said coldly. "No gift for you if you're going to be an asshole about it."

"No, no!" Jensen laughed, pressing a hand to his friend's slight chest and pushing him back. "It's nice, I'm just surprised. Last year you slashed my tires, so this is a step-up."

Rolling his eyes, Noah stepped back and let Jensen lock the front door. "In all fairness it was your own fault."

"How the hell was getting sick my fault?" Jensen gaped, pocketing his keys as he followed Noah to the truck.

"I had to eat an entire sheet cake at Maybel's Cake and Eats by myself," Noah said, shrugging shoulders buried in his oversized button-down. Adjusting his glasses Noah unlocked the car and folded into the driver's seat. "It did teach me to never order in advance, since you're so unreliable."

"I'm sorry," Jensen said, indulging his friend who continued to pout as he started the engine. Placing the empty box on his lap, Jensen pushed up his left sleeve and slid the bracelet on. His fingers twitched when the leather seamless moulded to him, sitting tight against his skin. The material heated up instantly, a solid brown stripe against milk white skin. He studied it for a moment, pushing down the sudden bubble of trouble that began to rise in his stomach. "Thanks for the gift. I love it."

"Whatever, we're running late so we should scram," Noah replied, brushing him off.

A lead foot fell onto the gas pedal, reversing the Lone Ranger down the road in a flash. Noah jerking the wheel in a tight circle, spinning the nose of the truck forward. The headlights clicked on, flooding the street in a white glare that only died when they made their way across the bridge. The Lone Ranger's tires shuddered against the unevenly paved road, jolting into par filled pot holes.

Jensen let his gaze linger on the wispy streaks of moonlight blotted along the night's black canvas. A few stars smirked back at him, gaining his attention for a moment before he looked down at the lake. The water gushing either side of them was low, blinking greyed waves that hummed a tune he couldn't make out even with the windows fully lowered. He turned to his friend, chuckling at the sight of him half curled over the steering wheel as he focused on the road a head.

"I know I was a bit of a jerk about it earlier, but thanks for taking me out tonight," Jensen said, above the quiet growls coming from the speakers. Noah sat up, sparing him a glance before turning back to the road. "Beats the shopping channel."

Noah's lips parted to speak but the words that were to come were cut short by the violent cry of police sirens. The truck crawled to a stop inches before the three-way intersection off the bridge and onto the main road. Noah's grip on the steering wheel tightened as a car skidded past them, bass heavy music screeching from the open windows and an exhaust that blew a stream of hot smoke along the nose of the truck. Moments later a police car followed, sprawling twinkled lights of red and blue along their windshield as it passed.

Silence fell between the pair again as Jensen stared at the fading headlights in shock, broken only by the fading clap of guitars. He jolted in surprise when Noah stepped on the gas, throwing the truck tightly around the corner and in the opposite direction as the car chase.

"I think that was the universe's way of telling you not to be so quick to thank me," Noah said, throwing a carefree grin filled with sharp teeth and darkened eyes. Shadows licked at the sides of his cheeks, his dark complexion ten times more so as the moon fell behind them and no light followed. "The nights still young. I'm bound to mess up at some point."

Jensen swallowed hard, eyes flickering to the side mirror. He was unsure what he was looking for. "Just don't get us arrested in the process."

It was a joke, but something had Jensen pulling his seatbelt a little bit tighter around himself as Noah laughed.

Turning on his high beams, Noah shook his head and smiled. "No promises there."