One More Night of Regret

Home : Stories by Mick : One More Night of Regret

Summary: It’s been months and not one word.

AUTHOR: Mick
EMAIL: mick@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R, for language and slashy implications
CHARACTER: Josh Snider, Dale Earnhardt, Jr., Josh POV
COMPLETED: March 1, 2009
WORD COUNT: 4,846
DISCLAIMER: If I owned them I’d be too busy to write this stuff. Just fiction, folks! I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic takes place after Movin’ Out. I suggest reading that one before this one because they go together.
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Whisky River - Charlotte, NC

All around me, nothing but noise. People talking and laughing, glasses clinking, live band playing cover songs. Guys picking up chicks, chicks turning guys down, people drinking alcohol and puffing on cigarettes. It’s loud as hell but still so damn muted in my ears. It’s all around me and I can hear it but I can’t really process it. It’s all just one big muffled throb, one giant thumpa-thumpa in my head. People bump into me and try to talk to me but I can’t lift my head to acknowledge them, can’t tear my eyes from the ice melting in the amber liquid that’s been sitting in my glass for I don’t even know how long. I tried to drink it what seems like hours ago but one sniff and my stomach turned. Got a cigarette burning in my hand, threatening to singe my fingers at any moment but I just can’t bring myself to put it out. Can’t seem to bring myself to do much of anything, lately. Just want to sit and wallow and wait for it all to be over, wait for it all to end, to come crashing down around me in one magnificent explosion. How it ever came to this is beyond me. Who knew moving out could be such a traumatic experience?

Who knew he’d refuse to take me back, to let me back into his home, his life…his heart. He really did shut the door on me when I left that day. Refused to come visit the new digs, stopped answering my calls, wouldn’t even return my emails or text messages. I’d sign into the league and he’d disappear from sight. Show up to parties and he’d do everything he could to avoid me, include walk out and not come back till he knew I was gone. I knew he was angry with me for leaving, but I guess I just never realized how bad he was hurting. I never thought he’d completely cut me out of his life like he has. I figured in time he’d get over it and forgive me, maybe even try to be civil with me. This, though…this just kills me. I’ve still got everyone else, but even they seem to be straining to keep me in their lives. With him it’s one or the other. It’s him or nothin’ and he doesn’t like the fact that they’re all trying to play Sweden and keep us both on level ground. More than once they’ve told me that if he found out they were hanging around with me, he’d disown them. He even threatened to fire anyone who was caught fraternizing with me. Like I’m some common criminal or something, and not the guy who spent his entire adult life hanging on his every word and bending to his every whim.

Feel someone brush against my arm and finally find the strength to put out my cigarette before mechanically reaching for another from the pack beside my glass. Flip open my Zippo, the one he got me for my 21^st birthday, and hit the striker, numbly putting the end of the butt to the flame and pulling off a drag to get it lit. Set the lighter back down and hold the smoke in for a long moment, taking comfort in the suffocating burn in my lungs and throat. Slowly breathe out through my nose, watching the smoke wisp through the air, turning and curling, mingling with the rest of the dirty air around the bar. Feel another nudge at my arm and this time realize it’s someone trying to get my attention. Look up reluctantly, catching eyes with a pretty blonde thing who doesn’t look near old enough to be in here without a chaperone. Vaguely hear her ask if the seat next to me’s open and nod a response before grabbing my drink and sucking down half of it as she picks up the stool and drags it to a nearby table where a group of identical girls sit watching. They all look at me and giggle amongst themselves, obviously making cracks about the dirty old guy at the bar, drowning his sorrows in a glass of whiskey and a pack of Winston Reds.

I shouldn’t even be here tonight. I shouldn’t be here at all, but especially not tonight. I know he comes in here on Tuesdays with the entire posse. They slip into his favorite VIP booth and shoot the shit for hours; sucking back beers and assorted mixed drinks, all on the house of course. Sooner or later they’ll take turns on the mechanical bull and jump up onto the karaoke stage to sing some drunken Willie Nelson covers while they laugh and stumble over words, finding cute little barely legal girls in the crowd to dedicate their songs to. He’ll sit in the darkest corner of the booth, watching everything around him, nursing a Jack and Coke while he works his way through a pack of cigarettes while everyone else has a good time letting loose. He really only comes here to keep up appearances. It’s his name on the lease, after all, so he has to pretend like he actually enjoys the place. Really, though, he’d rather be at home running the Karts or working on a new RC car. When the place was being built, he used to gripe nonstop about having to show up and deal with the masses when he’d rather be enjoying his time off relaxing, and not playing PR games. Always made me wonder why he even bothered to do it in the first place but then again, with him there never was a true rhyme or reason.

If he catches me sitting at the bar, he’s sure to have me thrown out. He’ll probably even put a lifetime ban on me or something, just to rub some salt in my gaping wounds. I should have listened to him when he told me stay. I should have called the realtor and told them I changed my mind, that I decided I was fine where I was and didn’t need to be movin’ out after all. But no, I was as stubborn as he was and insisted on doing it. I simultaneously ruined our friendship beyond repair and ripped out my own heart. They say hindsight is twenty-twenty. I say fuck ‘em all. I knew it was going to be hard going out on my own, but when I said I wanted to be just me for a while, I didn’t expect him to take it to the extreme. I didn’t expect him to cut ties so fast and so clean that I couldn’t even see it happening until it was too late. My gut knots up tighter and tighter with every day that goes by. The ache in my chest gets so bad some days that I can’t even pull myself out of bed to get to work. Every time the phone rings I get my hopes up, only to have them come crashing down when it’s not him. I know it won’t be him, but I can’t help doing it to myself. The pain never seems to go away and sometimes I feel like I deserve it for acting the way I did. He was hurting and I knew it but I never once stopped to try and ease it at all. I just barreled right on ahead, blinders firmly in place.

He’s not a grudge holder by nature, which is probably why this took me by surprise. He’s never been the type to hold peoples actions against them. He just picks himself back up when he’s knocked down and keeps right on rolling, shrugging them off his back along the way. No point in dwelling on the past, he always told me, ain’t got enough time to be stewing over shit that won’t matter a year from now. I guess I’m the exception. I always was, after all. I was his “only”, time and again. Only guy he ever fell for, only guy he came back to more’n a couple times, only guy he ever said “I love you” to that wasn’t family. I was also the only guy to ever tear his heart out and stick it on a pike for all to see. The only guy to completely take for granted everything he’s ever done for me. I was the only guy he would have even entertained the thought of growing old with and I ruined it all. I had everything I could have ever needed or wanted and I threw it all away like last week’s leftovers. I was a fool and it took him stranding me on the proverbial desert island to realize just how much I needed him in my life.

A tap on my shoulder pulls my attention from my cigarette and I look up, immediately wishing I’d ignored it. Blue eyes deep as the ocean lock onto mine, a million and one emotions swirling through them as they pin me down in my seat. I’ve been caught invading his territory and now I’m going to have to pay the ultimate price. Go to push myself up as I fumble to get my wallet from my pocket so I can pay my tab, unable to speak a word as his eyes never leave my own. He hasn’t said a thing or even moved a muscle since I turned around but I can see it in his eyes. He don’t want me here and I ain’t got no right to be here anyway so I need to just get out and disappear and we both know it. Manage to open my wallet and pull out what I hope is a twenty but with how dark it is and how fixated I am on him, I can’t hardly tell. My heart pounds so hard in my chest I’m sure he can hear it over the din of the music but still he doesn’t make any sort of movement. It’s almost eerie how still he is, but I know not to let my guard down for a minute. One wrong move and he’ll knock me on my ass so fast I won’t have time to react before he lets loose on me.

I go to step around him so I can make my exit with my tail between my legs, but then the unexpected happens. His hand wraps around my wrist, holding fast to it but not to a painful degree. I look up at him, shock coursing through my system as the feel of his skin on mind sends shivers down my spine. It’s been so long since he’s acknowledged my presence, let alone touched me. This is all making my head spin and suddenly my several hours of wallowing in alcohol catch up to me and I lose my balance, teetering back against the bar. He watches me, still silent as his hand never leaves my wrist. There’s something new in his eyes now and it sends my heart rate up another notch. My breath catches in my throat, mouth goes dry, and suddenly the room is spinning. What the hell is going on here? Why is he touching me, why is he even showing me any mind at all? I thought for sure he’d have thrown me out of here five minutes ago.

“J-Junior?” Wince at the sound of my voice, meek and unsure as I get lost in his gaze. I know my face must give away how shocked and confused I am but I can’t do a damn thing to change it. I thought for sure the first time he saw me again he’d lash out in an instant. His hand is still wrapped around my wrist, driving me completely insane. He doesn’t answer me and I clear my throat, trying to sound surer of myself this time, “Junior, what is it? Look, I know I shouldn’t be here, I’ll leave right-”

His eyes finally soften, panic and worry filling his face, “No! No, don’t-” He stops himself short and we look at one another in complete surprise. Did he really just tell me not to go? Did he honestly admit that he wants me to be here? My heart pounds so hard I feel like I just ran a marathon and I can feel it beating in my ears. His grip on my wrist tightens, just enough for me to notice, and I catch my bottom lip between my teeth to keep it from trembling. If this is some sick joke to kick me while I’m down, I don’t know what I’ll do. Months of not hearing from him, not even seeing his face in person, and now here we are in the middle of a crowded bar with his hand on my wrist telling me not to leave? I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from this.

“…really?” I can’t keep the tiny shred of hope out of my voice as I try to search his face for any sign of jest. Junior’s not an easy read but I’ve known him long enough to know when he’s lying to me or leading me on. You don’t stay friends with someone for close to fifteen years and not pick up a thing or two. The notion that he’d be cruel to me seems completely out of character, but at the time time…I also never expected him to toss me aside the way he did.

“…really.” There’s no hint of a lie in his tone, his eyes clear as day and full of conviction. He really does want me here, for whatever fucked up reason. Maybe he’s come to his senses after all this time and wants to try and mend fences. Or maybe he just wants to make a fool of me in front of the posse. Maybe he’s going to socially lynch me to make damn sure I never show my face in here again. The thought sends ice cold dread through me, settling in my stomach like a solid brick of ice.
Junior’s a lot of things, but cruel isn’t one of them. If he wanted to get back at me for leaving, there’s a hundred other ways he coulda done it. My heart’s racing so fast I can’t tell one beat from the next and suddenly the entire bar seems way too cramped and crowded, not nearly enough room to breathe, let alone think. His face changes again, this time unadulterated worry in his eyes and suddenly he’s urging me to sit down, demanding the bartender give him a bottle of water. I can’t figure out what’s going on until it feels like the floor’s out from under me and I’m coming down hard on my bar stool. I’d been holding my breath and hadn’t realized it until the lack of oxygen hit my brain full force.

“Josh, man you alright? Snooter, drink some water, man,” he presses the bottle to my lips, smacking my cheek lightly to knock some sense into me. I take the bottle from him, sipping it slowly, and the feel of the cool liquid against my lips seems to bring me back down to Earth. I take a longer swig and sigh in relief when the claustrophobic feeling subsides almost completely. He looks relieved as he straightens back up, nodding toward the door, “C’mon, let’s get you some fresh air, man.”

Nod my agreement and get up hesitantly, following him in a zigzag pattern toward the side entrance, marked for VIPs and Employees only. We get outside and the cool air rushes over me, washing away the last of the daze I’d been caught in. Finish off the water and drop the bottle in a nearby garbage before leaning back against the brick wall of the building. He comes to stand in front of me, hands in pockets and a hard, unreadable expression on his face. I look up at him, holding his gaze for as long as possible before looking back down at my feet. Maybe this is the part where he tells me to get lost and not to come back ever again. A short eternity passes before I dare to glance back up at him but when I do I realize he’s not even looking at me. His eyes are fixated on his shoes, same as mine were. He must feel my eyes on him because he looks back up at me and I can see the emotions swirling in those beautiful crystal eyes.

“God dammit Josh, I fucking miss you, you big asshole,” his voice is tight and strained, thick with barely harnessed emotion as he pins me down with his eyes again, glassy from forced back tears, “Why the hell did you have to leave and ruin everything, you fucking jerk? Do you have ANY idea how fucking shitty it’s been without you around? How much I fucking hate the fact you ain’t there with me no more?” He looks ready to take a swing at me, but his words hurt so much more than a fist ever could. I flinch slightly, looking down at the ground between us as he continues on, “I tried man, I really did. I tried to fuckin’ get over it and understand why you left but…it just don’t make no fuckin’ sense and I don’t know what pisses me off more, not understandin’ or bein’ abandoned. My best god damn friend in the world, more’n that even, and ya just took off on me ya heartless piece of shit!”

Cringe more, shrinking back against the wall at his words. Wish he’d just hit me and get it over with. At least a throbbing black eye and broken nose would heal over time, keep my mind off the breaking heart in my chest. Can feel the tears welling up behind my eyes, but I can’t let them out. Not now. Not here. Force myself to look back up at him, “You think I ain’t hurtin’ too, Earnhardt? You’re the asshole who won’t even return my fuckin’ calls, man! I TRIED to stay around but you don’t want none of me, remember? Ain’t even allowed to have the same friends no more because you’re a stubborn prick who thinks the sun rises and sets on your privileged ass! You hurt me bad man, cut me down in ways I didn’t even know ya could and for what? For fucking getting a place of my own? Christ man, take a step back and look at yourself, would ya? Talk about me being a heartless asshole? At least I tried to make this shit work. I didn’t throw you into the trash and try to write you outta my fuckin’ life!” Can feel my blood starting to boil now and it really won’t be long before this gets physical.

“Fuck you, Snider. Fuck you and your new god damn life. You wanted to be out on your own, remember? Wanted to be Just Josh, right?” He spits the words out at me as if they’re acid on his tongue, pure disgust filling his face, “Well that’s exactly what I gave ya, Josh. Gave ya all the fuckin’ space in the world so you could find yourself,” he’s mocking me now and I can’t hardly take it anymore, “Well go ahead, then! Go fuckin’ find yourself, Snider. Go out into the big ol’ world all on your own and make your fuckin’ momma proud. Fuck the rest of us. We don’t need you around.”

Hard as I try, I can’t stop the tears. A few drip down my cheek and I brush them off with the back of my hand, unable to talk around the growing lump in my throat. When the hell did Junior get so damn cruel? What happened to my best friend, my blood brother? The guy who gladly gave me the shirt off his back over and over from the time I was a kid? Who the hell is this heartless man standing in front of me, grinding my face into the pavement? When did we dig the ditch between us? None of it makes any sense anymore and the brick in my stomach turns to acid, burning a hole so deep and wide I don’t think I’ll ever be complete again.

“You’re on my property and I want ya off it, Snider. Now, before I call security out here,” he practically looks through me as he says it, but I can see a hint of reluctance on his face. He doesn’t really want me to go, does he? Not ten minutes ago he was all but begging me to stay. This doesn’t make any sense at all.

“Junior, please man. I’m sorry. I’m so sor-”

“Damn right you are.”

Watch as he turns his back on me and storms back into the club, leaving me outside against the cold bricks. The bottom drops out as the door clicks shut and I break down completely, nearly falling to the ground. Takes all the strength I have to make it back to my truck, climbing in and collapsing against the steering wheel, a mess of sobs and tears. I never thought that it would come down to this. Never thought he’d treat me this way, when we’d been so close for so long. I have to make this right again somehow. Have to pull myself together and fight for him. I can’t give up this easily, not when I know damn well he’s hurting as bad as I am right now. Suck in a deep breath and straighten up in my seat, sticking the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life but before I can throw it into gear, someone knocks on my window.

“Junior?” Roll the window down and stare at him, even more confused than before, “Dammit man, if you came to tear me down some more, just get it over with. I got a date with a razor and a bottle of aspirin in my bathroom.” It’s meant to be a sick joke but I’m just too tired to pull it off right now. I just want to leave, want to go home and curl up with a bottle of whiskey.

“Get out, Josh.”

I blink, “I’m trying to but you’re hindering the process!”

He rolls his eyes, “Out of the car, moron.”

“…oh,” Idiot. Of course he meant out of the truck. Turn the engine off and open the door, sliding back out onto the concrete, giving him a curious look. As unexpected as this entire night’s been, this is definitely the weirdest of all. He’s gone bipolar on me; happy one second, angry the next, and now…now I can’t even begin to imagine what the hell’s going on.

“Josh, I…” he looks up, holding my gaze briefly before looking over my head, toward the club, anywhere but at me. He runs a hand through his hair, shifting his weight between his feet, obviously uncomfortable. Confrontations, especially emotional ones, have never been his strong suit and I know it damn well. This is killing him right now, having to express himself verbally and not just with actions. He’s so much better at acting than speaking. Always has been. He finally manages to look me in the eye again and I can see the conflicting emotions raging within, “Josh, I…this ain’t been easy on me. If I’ve been an asshole to you, it’s only because I don’t know how the hell to deal…you’ve always been there and then all of a sudden you were gone and it just…”

“It don’t gotta be that way, Junior, and you know it! All ya hadda do was pick up the phone when I called or stop ignorin’ my emails, man! I moved across town, not to the moon!” Lean back heavily on my truck, too exhausted to hold myself up anymore, “I know you’re mad at me for goin’ but fuck, June. I tried to keep in touch. I never wanted to disappear from your life. Did you ever stop for even a second to think that maybe I’m hurtin’ much as you are? Y’got any idea what it’s like to have your best friend just…give up on you?”

His face falls, the defensive posture he’d been forcing to keep up crumbling to the ground. He sighs heavily, speaking soft, “I didn’t come out here to argue s’more, Snoot. I came out here to…to, well…apologize, I guess. This isn’t what I wanted. Not by a long shot.  I figured after a month or two you’d figure living away from the Acres wasn’t worth it and you’d come back. I ain’t even touched your house since you left…no one’s stepped foot in it. I just kept hoping you’d show up and tell me you changed your mind but then it didn’t happen and…”

“And what?” Study his face, trying to figure out where all this is going but with Junior it’s never easy to figure out.

“And then you didn’t show up and I realized you weren’t gonna. It killed me knowin’ you were doin’ alright on your own without me and fuck man…it hurt. Made me feel like shit knowin’ y’didn’t need me in your life no more.”

“You’re such an idiot, Junior,” I laugh, despite myself, despite the situation. Loud, obnoxious, bellowing laughter, right from my gut. For the first time in I can’t even remember how long, I can’t stop laughing. He watches me, trying to figure out what’s so funny and the look on his face only manages to egg me on further, “Y-you really think I…oh man, you’re…so…SO stupid! Junior my life ain’t nothin’ without you in it, you dumb shit!”

I give him a good, solid shove, sending him back into the car behind him. It catches him off guard but he responds quickly, giving me a shove back. I snort with laughter as he practically bounces off of me and grab him by the arms, pulling him in close. He locks eyes with mine and I can see the last of his hardened mask melting away. Finally, a small smile spreads across his face, that Elvis curl appearing at the corner of his lips. For the first time in I can’t even remember how long, we come together in a bear hug, holding one another as tight as we possibly can. I grip his shirt in my hands, face buried in his neck so I can breathe in the scent I’ve been missing since the day I moved out. Can feel him doing the same to me and for a long while neither of us even thinks about letting go.

“Josh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” He squeezes me tighter, before finally pulling back enough to look me in the eye again, “I didn’t…I was an asshole to think I could just…cut you off like I did. I’m a fuckin’ asshole.”

“Got that right,” clap him on the back before letting up on him a little, “I tell you what, Junebug: ever try and do this to me again and I’ll come back with a huntin’ rifle aimed right at your crown jewels. Just because I ain’t livin’ ten feet away don’t mean it don’t kill me not gettin’ to see you every now and again. You’re still my best friend, Junior. Ain’t nothin’ ever gonna change that, whether y’want it to or not.” I straighten up again, not wanting to let go just yet. Been far too long since I’ve been able to hold onto him like this and I want nothin’ more than to savor the moment.

“Hey Snoot…what’dya say we get outta here, huh? The guys got their own damn rides, let’s go back to your place for a while so you can give me a tour or somethin’…” there’s a familiar lilt in his voice- one I know all too well -and a smile spreads across my face. He grins back at me, running a hand through his hair as he walks around to the passenger side of my truck. I slip back in to the driver’s side and start the truck up, glancing over at him before pulling out of my spot. He wants to see the new digs and get a tour, I’ll make sure he gets one he never forgets. The night is starting to look up and I can’t help but be thankful that the night turned out the way it has. It could have gone in the complete opposite direction. It could have been just another night of regret, but instead I’ve gotten back the missing piece of myself that’s been tearing a whole in me for months. I smile softly to myself as I pull out of the parking lot, a comfortable silence falling between us as his hand comes to rest on my knee. Turns out even the most stubborn of men has a breaking point.

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Mick - mick@cryptoffic.com