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Apr. 2nd, 2017 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
supra_et_ultraFor once, there isn't a substance party. It's a goddamn miracle. Still, they're all fucked as hell, and it's Swan that has the brilliant idea: there's a lake, not very far. A man-made reservoir, but it's safe for swimming and fishing and shit, and they're young and fucked, and it's summer, and they should all go to the lake.
They're all down. Even Proko, who always seems weirdly hesitant about those things, lakes and other bodies of water and shit, and always has. Jiang has constantly choked it up to maybe the motherfucker just can't swim. It's entirely possible.
They drive out, for once not in their caravan. Proko rides with Kavinsky, a perpetual passenger installed in the Evo's shotgun seat since Kavinsky came up with his first fake ID when he was barely fifteen; Jiang rides in the back of Skov's car with Swan in the front, and tries to not think about how many people Skov has fucked on these seats.
He drinks a beer as they head out, and it occurs to him, a slow dawning, that Jiang doesn't even think he's seen Prokopenko in a gym class. He's never really thought of it--just that it must be true, because he knows he's seen Skov and Swan and Kavinsky in them. He's snooped a little. Watched them, sweaty and rowdy and horsing around, naked, and said absolutely nothing because Skov is all fun and games until you look like you might be acting queer. But Proko's never been in on that.
Unlike the swimming thing, that strikes him strange. So, when they stop, when they're at the lake and everyone else is already heading down to the water, Jiang veers toward Proko, bringing up the rear.
"You cool, man?" he asks, as bland as he can manage.
They're all down. Even Proko, who always seems weirdly hesitant about those things, lakes and other bodies of water and shit, and always has. Jiang has constantly choked it up to maybe the motherfucker just can't swim. It's entirely possible.
They drive out, for once not in their caravan. Proko rides with Kavinsky, a perpetual passenger installed in the Evo's shotgun seat since Kavinsky came up with his first fake ID when he was barely fifteen; Jiang rides in the back of Skov's car with Swan in the front, and tries to not think about how many people Skov has fucked on these seats.
He drinks a beer as they head out, and it occurs to him, a slow dawning, that Jiang doesn't even think he's seen Prokopenko in a gym class. He's never really thought of it--just that it must be true, because he knows he's seen Skov and Swan and Kavinsky in them. He's snooped a little. Watched them, sweaty and rowdy and horsing around, naked, and said absolutely nothing because Skov is all fun and games until you look like you might be acting queer. But Proko's never been in on that.
Unlike the swimming thing, that strikes him strange. So, when they stop, when they're at the lake and everyone else is already heading down to the water, Jiang veers toward Proko, bringing up the rear.
"You cool, man?" he asks, as bland as he can manage.
