The Car Crash

Theodore not only got one, but two jobs. He mainly worked in a tiny flower shop, owned by an older, Mexican lady, who was very nice to him, always gifting him plant cuttings, so he could grow his own, and soon Holden’s apartment drowned in snake plants, peace lilies and philodendrons. Holden would just shake his head at new cuttings, and Theodore would get a fuzzy feeling.
“Say, can you drive?” Holden asked as they drove home, new plant cuttings on the backseat.
Theodore had rolled the windows down, the gushing of the wind in his ears as he watched the passing scenery. “Yeah, why?”
“You can use the truck too, you know? So you won’t be so dependent on me.”
Theodore looked over the truck’s interior. “Can’t. I don’t know how to drive manual.”
“It’s not that bad. I’ll show you.” Before Theodore was able to come up with a lie why he really couldn’t, they were in an empty parking lot and Holden got out of the truck with a squeaking of the door, leaving it open. The door beside Theodore was ripped open and Holden stared at him expectantly. He sighed and got off.
Holden guided him through the routine, and Theodore clung to the wheel as if his life depended on it, and he really thought it did.
After a few times of stalling the engine and bouncing around they were on the road, Holden still explaining stuff, but Theodore only looked at the road frantically. The heat clawed at his skin and sweat dripped down his face. They drove into the desert, and images of cracked windshields in the night filled Theodore’s head, and he braked, the truck jumped forward, shaking Holden and him.
“What the hell? You were fine-“ Theodore’s breathing sped up, and his fingers tightened around the black leather until it hurt, and they started trembling. Theodore tried to heave the tears back down as he stared at the blue oval on the steering wheel while waves crashed in his ears and with every breath it felt like his ribs coiled around his lungs, leaving him desperate for air. The door beside him was opened, and hot wind climbed into the truck. Somehow his hands were wrenched from the wheel, and suddenly he sat on the hot desert sand, stones pinching his thighs and he stared into the sun until Holden crouched down in front of him, throwing a shadow onto his face. “Hey, you are fine.” He repeated it over and over again as Theodore shivered in the dirt, Holden’s unsure hands wandered over Theodore’s arms, neck and cheek, not knowing where to remain, not knowing how to help, but trying to steady him regardless. Theodore stared at Holden’s face, saw the worry etched into his skin. In his head the car crash repeated itself, he could hear the screaming, felt the shards of glass boring into his palms when he had crawled out of the black Mercedes. And he could still hear Sterling’s panicked voice when he called to ask for help.
Theodore opened his eyes, not even knowing he closed them in the first place, and saw Holden’s lips move, forming around words he couldn’t hear, and he noticed a tiny, white scar next to the corner of Holden’s mouth, saw pearls of sweat roll down his temple and Theodore grabbed Holden’s wrists, whose hands currently ghosted over Theodore’s shoulders; the movie in his head stopped. He noticed how close they were and even though something told him to get closer, but he looked away, just in time to see a scorpion hustle from one of the wheels into the desert. Theodore hated Scorpios.