What The Fight Is Worth

It wasn’t enough for him to say he hated him; he had to show it. He had to find some way to get it through his best friend’s thick as-an-oak stump skull that he absolutely hated him. He hated his face, the perfect, near-geometric curve of his cheek that reflected the sun if it hit him just right. He wanted to break the sharp as a two-edged sword jaw bone and destroy the angle he’d been staring at for years. And his nose, he wanted to give him the bump that he hated in himself, and maybe, just maybe, that would fix him. If he could black his eye and knock out a couple teeth, that would fix him. 

Because Kyle Pearson needed to be fixed. Hal Green needed to fix him. No one else could fix him; Hal needed to be the only person in the world who could lay hands on Kyle, not his girlfriend Josie or any of his academy buddies who tackled him on the football field or wrestled him in the ring. Hal never got that privilege and the ones that did took it for granted. It was all his now. 

It was like any normal Friday night. They ate a greasy, fattening, and barely satisfying meal from the drive-in diner. Kyle would pretend to stay at the diner for a little bit longer while his friends left for the night, and Hal would pick him up after his shift. They would find their way out to some clearing on a field back road, where they could think. Where they could talk. Where Hal didn’t have to worry about his daddy finding him, walking stick in hand like a weapon. Where Kyle didn’t have to worry about his friends or Josie finding him and meeting with Hal, a boy with too long-hair, too crooked teeth, and too little money. It wasn’t as though he was ashamed of Hal; he was just ashamed of Hal in the sense that their friends could never see them like this. They could see him in the context of a school event or a random coincidental meeting, such as at the diner (even if Hal didn’t believe in coincidences), but nothing like this. Nothing social. Nothing by choice. 

But Kyle would choose Hal over his friends or Josie every Friday night. He would choose a blanket in the bed of Hal’s rusted, antique pickup truck, and a couple of beers they’d only take a single sip out of before figuring out they didn’t like the taste. Kyle didn’t have to drink with Hal, and Hal didn’t have to drink with Kyle. It was enough just being with each other. These Friday nights were all they had. Hal’s daddy, out of town on business, and Hal’s mama, out of the picture completely. Kyle’s girlfriend, Josie, out behind her house with her girlfriends wondering if Kyle was honest. Kyle’s friends, who are out of their minds drunk and none the wiser. 

Everyone was out in some way or another, save for Kyle and Hal. 

Hal laid the blanket out as he did every night, cracking open two beers they wouldn’t finish. It was a ritual now, something of a rite to keep away anyone who might go wondering where Kyle went off to. There was no one to wonder about Hal, and part of this routine was to ensure that no one would. The unfinished beers, the blanket, the radio with classic country, it was all a part of their sacred observances, uninterrupted and as close to heaven as they were going to get. 

The air was thick with humidity, like the crops in the fields next to them were sweating and the moisture permeated into the air. It was almost suffocating, if it weren't for the breeze. A storm was coming. It might move through in the night; Kyle and Hal wouldn’t get to stay until dawn as they did most Friday nights. Most nights in July brought in storms, accompanied by tornado sirens and television/radio broadcasters, and occasionally storm chasers, but most just brought in rain, wind, and occasionally hail. 

Tonight will be the night of a tornado, said the radio. The county was under a watch. Kyle and Hal didn’t bother leaving. 

All they ever really did was lay next to each other. Propped up against the back of Hal’s truck, shifting anxiously to find the most comfortable spot. They laid up against one another and talked. 

Talked about moving and off and working together, starting some sort of cattle ranch out west, training dogs to herd them across the country. Moving with the seasons. Finding somewhere that relied on their cattle. No one could hate them if Kyle was slaughtering the animals and Hal was processing them. No Kyle and Hal, no quality meat. Talked about declaring a major at the junior college a couple miles up the road, taking the classes necessary and transferring to a university, getting out and becoming some sort of doctor. No one could hate them if Kyle was finding cures and Hal was treating patients. No Kyle and Hal, no cured cancer. 

Hal didn’t have the money for either of their scenarios, and neither did Kyle; Kyle was just better at hiding it. 

Or, they could be veterinarians. Hal saw the patients at their house, and Kyle saw them at the clinic. No Hal and Kyle, no healthy livestock. 

This was what they settled on. 

They laughed. Enough to shake the hills. Enough for the moon to flash out from behind the storm clouds, thick and gray and heavy with undeniable indication. 

Gravel crunching in the distance, trees rustling in the wind, and the faint sound of deer scattering around them chorused together and settled fear in Hal’s stomach. Hal realized that it wasn’t the light of the moon they saw. 

Kyle didn’t bother staring at the headlights. He climbed through the back window, skinny enough to make it through without a hitch, even in his haste. Hal sat in the back of the truck, pretending. He turned up the volume on his radio, as though it was the focus of the night. He sipped his beer and watched.

Their rituals were no longer enough. The blanket, the radio, and the beer couldn’t keep them safe. Thunder pounded somewhere far off, lighting cracking across the sky. A truck, much newer than Hal’s, stopped in the field adjacent to his. 

A boy and two girls stepped out of the truck, shutting their doors in unison. It sent a chill over Hal, and he already wanted to be sick. The boy commanded the dark-headed girl to stay near his truck, but she didn’t listen, holding on to Kyle's girlfriend’s arm as they walked across the road. 

"What in hell are you doing out here this late at night, Hal Green?"

Hal recognized the voice; he was one of Kyle’s friends, someone who wasn’t lying about the money he had or his interest in beer. It was almost obvious he’d drunk enough to kill a horse by the way he stammered across the field drive to meet Hal at the tailgate of his truck. 

“What do you want?” was all Hal said, sipping on his beer, fronting indifference.

The boy started giggling, almost doubled over on the ground. He raised up, exhaled deeply once, and grew quiet. He caught Hal's gaze. “You know who I want. The same boy you want.”

“Where’s Kyle, Hal?” Josie, Kyle’s girlfriend, popped up, holding onto the other girl’s arm, still standing in the middle of the field road. “I know he’s with you. His truck is still at the diner.” 

Hal turned down the radio. 

“Kyle’s always been a bad liar,” the drunk boy said, this time leaning up against the tailgate, barely conscious. “If only he lied to you as much as he lied to us.” 

The truck jolted beneath Hal, and Kyle came staggering out the passenger’s side door, rounding the corner of the truck and standing to face the personification of intoxication. 

“You idiot,” Kyle said, carrying on as though his friend completely misunderstood. “I had Hal bring me out here because I’m tired of him messing around with me at the diner.” Kyle was a better liar than Hal ever thought about being. He glared at Hal, feigning all the anger he could muster. He looked the part, clenching his fists as his chest heaved up and down, wearing a gaze that pierced right through Hal. 

Some sort of anger sparked in Hal. 

Kyle shoved him off the tailgate. “You’re drunk, Eli. Go home. This is between Hal and I.” 

“I think Josie has a right to know what’s going on between you and Hal.” 

Josie was crying now. 

Kyle motioned to Hal, signaling for him to come down off the tailgate. “I brought him out here for a reason. Do you really want to know why?” 

Josie nodded. 

Kyle met Hal’s gaze, and he almost hesitated. “Throw the first punch.” 

Hal blinked. 

“Now, dammit, you asked for this! I’m giving you the courtesy of the very first punch, and you outta take it.” 

The drunk shoved his way toward Kyle. “What the hell is this?” 

“I’ve already told you, dammit. I was tired of him coming around us at the diner. Seemed like he always wanted something to do with me or Josie or you, and I got sick and damn tired of it. So I told him we could settle it tonight.”

Hal listened, managing his composure. This was an act. This had nothing to do with the actual nature of their friendship, and if he could make it through about the next ten minutes, they could meet up again next Friday night, on the blanket, with the beer, with the radio. But damn, if it wasn’t hard to hear Kyle say these words, in such a convincing tone. 

It was the storm that brought this in. He just needed to let it roll on out. 

“So I ask you again, Hal Green,” Kyle said, squaring his feet and appearing to brace, digging his feet into the dirt. “Throw the first punch.” 

Hal raised his fist. He needed to break every bone in his face. 

It had been a long time since he’d been in a fight, but unlike his truck, he wasn’t rusty. He threw quick and fast, taking punches to his ribs and shoulders and stomach from Kyle as put all of his strength into the blows towards Kyle’s face. Hal didn’t falter and nor would he relent. This was what Kyle deserved for all these nights of meeting him in secret, only for it to end like this. Only for him to shove him in the dirt when it came time for him to stand up to his friends, his girlfriend. Hal wanted to punish him for every stolen glance, for every time Kyle held Josie’s hand, for every time he pinned another guy to the mat or tackled him to the field.

They locked eyes, and Kyle no longer looked angry. He didn’t look scared either. Hal didn’t care how he looked, only that he ruined his face. He hit him straight in the nose, sending him back to the ground, blood on his knuckles. Hal fell with him, pinning him to the ground and launching punches at his face, his nose, and his jaw all over again. The same sequence. 

It wasn’t Josie’s desperate cries for him to stop or the slurred cheers of the drunk that made him freeze. It was Kyle, who came out from underneath him and pinned Hal on his back, who stilled him. 

Kyle heaved over him. He spit out what looked like a tooth on his chest, blood running down his cheeks on both sides of his lips. Bruises formed as he breathed. 

“I deserved that.” Just quiet enough for Hal to hear.

Hal felt tears run down his cheeks. “You did.” 

Kyle threw a punch and the crack of Hal’s nasal bone was enough for him to collapse against Hal, unable to retaliate further. 

“You win,” Hal declared, loud enough for Josie and the drunk to hear. “Now get off of me, lead-weight.” 

Kyle rolled off to the side of Hal, immediately surrounded by Josie and assumedly the drunk’s girlfriend. Hal rolled on his side and held his nose, overcome by the lingering pressure from Kyle’s punch, adrenaline still pushing through his system. Some way or another, it felt good. Like he satisfied some carnal instinct Hal didn’t realize he had. 

As he faded into unconsciousness, he heard something from Josie, or maybe the other girl, about a hospital. Hal was out cold before he could process much else. The last thing he registered was thunder in his ears and rain on his skin. 

When Hal woke up, he sat in a hospital bed upright, still in his clothes. Tightly packed gauze and tape covered his nose. The cold of the emergency room made it seem as though the rainwater had seeped deep into his bones. His entire body ached. 

And still, somehow or another, he felt whole. Satisfied.

Kyle laid in the bed next to him. He sported a bandaged nose, stitches around his eyes and jaw, and gauze on both sides of his cheeks. His eyes were almost swole shut. He looked only at Hal. 

“Eli and Josie didn’t want to bring you,” Kyle explained, remorseful. Almost anxious. “My dad wanted to press charges. I told him we were just messing around, that it went too far. Told him we had too much to drink.” 

“Two sips is too much?” 

Kyle struggled to speak. “I did what I had to, okay?” 

Hal nodded. He understood. He hated that he did. That this was the life of secrecy they were condemned to. That he would accept it. 

“I won’t let it happen again, Hal.” 

Hal looked at Kyle for a long time. He watched for Josie and whoever the drunk was that he already forgot the name of, and Kyle’s father, and decided they were safe. 

“If you wanted to touch me, you could have just said something.” 

Kyle smiled, through bruises and stitches and gauze. “I will next time.” A pained, truthful smile. One of Kyle’s best.

Hal didn’t hate him anymore. He didn’t think he needed to be fixed anymore, either. If it meant he still saw his smile, maybe a tooth or two less and a bit more crooked than it was before, he’d break his nose every Friday night.