Alaska

Marco's feet were sore and his stomach was rumbling with hunger, and he would sell his soul if he had the chance to climb into bed immediately.He was off work, but he lived in the suburbs of Portland, and he had to wait for a bus, endure a 10-minute drive, and walk another half mile to get home.But fortunately, he can finally go home to be quiet and quiet - Shana went to a reunion with her college classmates, and Krista, forget it... let's not think about her.

Colleague Lori stopped him at the door. "Switch this Friday?"

"Sorry, I'm afraid not. I have to work the night shift at the part-time job on Friday." In fact, he has more than one part-time job.In addition to his full-time job at the gas station, he also spends almost [-] hours a week stocking shelves at thrift stores and working two night shifts at an auto parts retailer's warehouse, washing floors and cleaning toilets.The holiday rush is here, so he has to work extra hours at the store these days.He earned a lot of money, but he felt that he was already a walking dead.

Lori shrugged. "Okay, so let alone a Saturday night date, huh?"

He asked this question four or five times.He's actually quite likeable, but Marco just smiles at him apologetically. "I would, too, but my social life has long since been ruined."

"You work so hard, be careful to die young."

"Maybe."

"Hey, Merry Christmas to you anyway."

"Ah, you too."

The swing door closed behind him.Marco pulled on his raincoat, stepped out of the awning, and walked into the drizzle.It was dusk, but the dense dark clouds pulled down the night early.God, he misses the sunny days.

The bus stop is two blocks away.As he walked, he thought about what to have for dinner. He didn't want to eat reheated pizza or Shana's chowder.This weather is still suitable for soup.So he detours to a sandwich shop, where he buys a large chicken teriyaki sandwich and a bowl of cream of broccoli soup in a foam cup.He squeezed the bag tightly and went back to the road, bowing his head to the oncoming rain and fog.

The bus stop was half a block away when he passed a doorway where a homeless man huddled.There was no paper cup for change in front of the man, and he didn’t look up when Marco approached—he just sat there with his head down, his shoulders shivering in the cold wind.Oh shit.

Marco sighed. "Hey buddy. Are you hungry?" He held out his bag.

The man slowly raised his head.His face was dirty and thin, with a shaggy beard covering his cheeks and chin.His shoulder-length hair was too greasy to tell the color.But his eyes—the same blue as ever, only much cloudier.

"Scott?"

Scott stared at him blankly, and it took him a while to wake up, opening his mouth in surprise. "Marco?" he called hoarsely.

They stared at each other motionlessly, and time seemed to freeze.Scott avoided his eyes first, and lowered his eyes in despair, which broke Marco's heart.He grabbed Scott's arm with his free hand. "Come with me," he ordered.

Scott complied without resistance.Marco was a little afraid that Scott would disappear like a ghost, so he grabbed his arm all the way and didn't let go while waiting for the bus at the bus stop.They stood silently, and a middle-aged woman cast a strange look, and they ignored it until the bus finally arrived and splashed water from the roadside on them.Marco used the bus card himself, and then paid Scott the fare in cash.

"What are you doing in Oregon?" Scott whispered, even though no one was sitting next to them.

"I've lived here. Over a year."

"why?"

The sandwich bag weighed heavily on Marco's lap. "Shana's coming here for college. I can't pay rent in Portland and California, so we're moving here."

"Are you still funding her?"

"Well. She's only 19 years old. The university she's going to is really good, but the tuition is ridiculously expensive, and even if she gets a stipend, she can't do it alone." He has to stop here, or he will praise Shana But there is no end to it.She plans to go to medical school.

Scott smelled of wet wool, cigarettes, sweat and dirt, but through it all he still smelled of the old days, which was somewhat comforting. "Where's Krista? And your grandmother?"

"Grandmother died a few years ago and I became the girls' guardian."

"it's a pity."

Marco nodded his thanks.He didn't tell Scott that in the end his grandmother's death brought him relief.He still feels guilty to this day.

"Where's Krista?" Scott asked.

Marco didn't answer for a long time.He watched the wipers swinging back and forth in front of the windshield of the bus, and stared at the red lights reflected by the water droplets on the windows. "She's become a problem girl," he finally admits. "I haven't seen her in a long time." That's one of the reasons he moved them away—to get Krista out of her cronies.But she soon made similar friends here, and he couldn't help it.She didn't go to school for months and rarely came home.Every night he silently prayed that she was safe.

"What a pity," Scott said again.

"Thanks. She's a bright kid, and maybe she'll get back on her feet."

Scott nodded, then fell silent; he didn't speak again until the bus plodded past a few more blocks. "What about you? Going to community college?"

Marco shook his head. "Do not have time."

"Have you got a boyfriend yet?"

"No time." He looked down at the sandwich bag and whispered, "What's wrong with you, Scott? Are you okay?"

Scott's laugh was dry. "I am hopeless."

"But in the end—"

"Don't want to talk about it."

Marco didn't ask any more.Anyway, he can guess what the story is like, at least roughly estimate one or two.He'd seen it all too often: drugged, drunk, homeless, in jail or in a mental institution.He's been trying his best to keep such things away from his sisters, with mixed success so far. "Well, the place I live in is old and cramped, but it's warm and dry."

Scott nodded.

"I left you the contact information," Marco said. "To the later tenants. I gave them my phone number in case you ever come over. I mean, go find me there." He blushed, wondering if that last sentence might have been too self-indulgent .

"I haven't been back for a long time." A smile flashed across Scott's face, vaguely revealing the expression of his youth. "But I think about you a lot. I'm still not sure if you're my hallucination."

Marco held Scott's hand tightly. "It's not a hallucination."

Scott seemed to relax a little, but maybe that was just figment of Marco's imagination.

Although they didn't speak again after that, Marco still felt a bit reluctant when the bus wobbled to their destination and swished open the door.Scott followed him to the side of the road, and he realized that Scott was empty-handed. "Where's your backpack?" Marco asked.

"It's... gone."

Marco is not very attached to tangible things.There were only a few things he really cherished, and it was only those few things that he would mourn if he lost everything in the fire.Still, he couldn't imagine having nothing, no one to depend on, nowhere to go.Just thinking about it made him panic, so he walked quickly, as if to remind himself that at least he still had a home to return to.

"This area is quite advanced," Scott looked around, shrugging uncomfortably.

"It's close to Shana's school. After all, we don't have a car. As I told you, our house is not that nice. See?" He pointed down the alley through the rain curtain, through the fence and a few trees, just right His roof can be seen. "It used to be a garage or a guest house, I guess." When they passed through the gate in the fence, it was obvious that the main house and the cottage next to it were equally dilapidated.The house had once been magnificent, but as economic conditions deteriorated, the owners left it alone.From the looks of the house, they probably weren't much richer than Marco.

The garage door was jammed again.Marco had a hard time pushing the door open.He and Scott stood in the kitchen, dripping.Marco noticed that Scott was shaking violently. "I've got soup in this bag. How about some more coffee?"

Scott nodded, but looked around hesitantly. "I'm... dirty."

God, Marco really didn't want to see the inferiority complex on his face. "Sometimes I come home from get off work myself as hell. Don't worry. These are easy to clean."

They sat at the precarious table and divided the sandwich and soup in two.But Scott looked too thin, so they finished the food on the table, Marco grumbled and was still hungry, heated up another can of chicken noodle soup, ate it with the bag of small apples he bought, and then the two They all drank a cup of honey tea.

Scott finished, playing with the spoon in his hand. "Thank you for the dinner, Marco. I have to go." He stood up and started for the door, but Marco grabbed his arm.

"Stay here. Please. God, Scott, we haven't seen each other in five years."

"I'm not the kid you used to know."

"Oh? Exactly, I am not anymore."

The two stared at each other for a long time, and Scott finally nodded. "Fine. But just for a while."

Marco knew he shouldn't be comforted by being able to spend so little time with Scott, but he breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you want to take a shower? Or take a soak? If you have a lot of laundry, I have a washing machine here." He pointed to the washer and dryer hidden behind the door.

"I... God, I really want to wash up. Is it really possible?"

"Of course."

Marco handed Scott some towels, soap, and shampoo and walked out of the bathroom.There was the sound of water in the bathroom as he picked up the dirty laundry Scott had thrown outside the door.He put the clothes in the washing machine, added a generous dose of detergent, and then went back to work, cleaning the kitchen and drying up the water stains they dripped on the floor.The sound of the shower stopped, but a moment later, the bathtub faucet started again.Marco took off his overalls and put on flannel house trousers and a ragged but comfortable thermal shirt.After Scott turned off the water, he pressed the start button of the washing machine.Then he has nothing to do but watch the raindrops on the kitchen window and try not to imagine Scott naked on the other side of the bathroom door.

Scott called his name, jerking him out of his reverie. "Marco? Can I borrow some clothes?"

"No problem," Marco yelled back.He grabbed a pair of clean underwear, his own gray sweatpants, and a blue T-shirt, and knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Scott stood in the middle of the cramped bathroom, completely naked.He rolled the towel under his arm and looked at Marco defiantly, as if waiting for something ugly to say.But he thought too much, and Marco was completely speechless.Scott was so thin—hips and ribs stick out bonyly—and his skin was covered with old and new scars.But he is still breathtakingly beautiful, like an unfinished painting, a sculpture slightly tarnished by the years.He was Mark's dream man.

"Can I borrow your razor?" Scott asked.

"Well, yes. Of course. There."

Marco watches obsessively as Scott gets dressed, runs his fingers through his hair, and shaves off his beard.Scott looks younger and more vulnerable after clean-shaven.

"Lots of toothbrushes under the sink," Marco told him, "I bought a bunch of them on sale." He watched Scott brush his teeth.

Opposite the kitchen is the living room.Marco removed the sofa cushions and pulled out the mattress inside. "You can sleep in my sister's room if you want, but my bed will be tidier."

"Don't you have a room of your own?"

"There are only two bedrooms, and the girls have to have their own space."

"But you said Krista hasn't slept here in a while."

Marco sighed. "Yeah. But...that's still her room." After all, she doesn't count as long as there are velveteen dolls on the bed, pink plastic barrettes on the dresser, and boy band posters on the wall. really left, right?

Scott looked so sad, as if those lips had forgotten how to smile. "How was your first time, Marco? Did you play Barry White?"

Marco shook his head, surprised that Scott still remembered the conversation. "It's okay. One of my colleagues. We... are very nice."

"Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Hey, you know how much you don't want to talk about the last five years? Neither do I. Let's just...let's go to bed, okay?"

So they didn't talk about Marco's first time, or the few times after that.Marco is not a prudish sex talker, and he never takes seriously the romantic fantasies Scott has woven for him.But he didn't have time for bars, clubs, or dates, he didn't even have privacy at home, and he often had to work all night.In fact, as he brushed his teeth, he realized that he had only slept with one person in five years, and that was on the roof, next to Scott.

Scott waited on the bed, turning cautiously sideways.Marco turned off the light, got into bed and lay down next to him.They didn't make physical contact - and then Scott grabbed his hand. "You don't even have a Christmas tree?" Scott asked in a low voice.

Marco sighed. "It doesn't make sense." The Christmas gift he gave Shana was a shopping card, allowing her to buy what she needed.He had one for Krista, too, but he didn't think she'd come home to get it.

"Is there still no gift for you?" Scott asked softly.

"This tradition is really stupid. I don't need gifts, and I have never received any gifts since I was a child, except..."

"You still have this watch." Scott caressed the indentation of the watch on Marco's wrist.He only took off his watch when he was sleeping.

"Yes. Your notebook is still in my closet, too."

Marco couldn't see Scott's face clearly in the dark, but he heard Scott take a quick breath and let it out slowly. "Can I give you another present, Marco?"

"You've given—"

"Let me give you, your first time—I was supposed to be your first time, right?"

Longing made Mark shudder. "I...you don't actually have to. If you don't want to—"

"Will Shana bump into me?"

"No. She's out overnight."

"Okay." Scott kissed the back of Marco's hand. "Where are the condoms and lube?"

"I do not have."

There was a heavy silence. "We can't...I'm not safe, Marco."

Marco felt a cardiac arrest. "Are you infected?"

"Not last time I checked, but it's been a while, I don't know..." Scott fell silent.

Marco turned to face Scott, stroking his cheek. "A gift instead. Sleep with me tonight, okay? Just sleep. And, promise me, you'll be safe from now on."

Scott turned over and brought his face closer to Marco's forehead. "I can't always... there's no guarantee. But I'll try, okay?"

Although these words were not satisfactory, Marco snorted softly and gave him an affirmative answer.They just lay there, absorbing each other's breath.Scott smelled heady now of Marco's shampoo—as if Marco had marked him, if only temporarily.And, he still smells like the boy who sat on the roof, never underestimating Marco, full of longing for the future.

"Why are you doing this, Marco? Don't you ever think about dropping everything and starting over? You never think about yourself, even once?"

Marco certainly thought about it.Since he was a child, he has fantasized about various plots and escaped from his own life, but he knows that he will not act.In the past it was because of the burden—with the death of his mother, the burden of responsibility fell on his shoulders.But now it is himself who restrains him, because he is afraid that if he loses even the relatives he can take care of, he will have nothing.

So he just said, "I have to stay."

Scott might get it.When he turned his back, Scott didn't say a word, still close to his body, hugging him from behind.This feeling is really unparalleled.Marco could even pretend—for now at least—that he was the one being cared for.Scott's warm breath scratched the back of his neck gently.

"Did you go to Alaska?" Marco asked, yawning.

"No. But it's really cold there. Maybe California is better."

"Maybe."

***

When he woke up the next morning, Marco was empty.He'd expected this to happen, so he'd put Scott's clothes in the dryer the night before, and he'd left twenty dollars there by the way. 20 yuan is not much, but he has already emptied the cash on his body.Now the $20 is gone, replaced by a message on the dining table, scrawled on the back of a Safeway receipt.

Sorry, Marco.I hope that one day you and I can be closer than friends.I wish I could be worthy of you.Thank you for the money.I also took the clothes I borrowed from you, and I took some things from the refrigerator.Thank you for such a wonderful evening.All my best moments are spent with you.Merry Christmas, Marco.

love you,

S

Below the handwriting is a quick-painted superhero with curly hair and a big "R" on his chest.

Marco felt like crumpling up the receipt and throwing it away.He is not a savior.He didn't save Scott, and he didn't teach Krista well.God, he couldn't even save himself.

But he still caressed the piece of paper in his hand, carefully clamped it to the title page of Scott's coil notebook, and went to take a shower.There was no time for sentimentality, and he had nine or ten minutes to arrive at his post.