Cold, a kevin smith fanfic

I don't own any of the characters. They are owned by Kevin Smith. I wish I owned them, but sadly, I do not. The song, 'Cold' by Crossfade, is not mine, either, obviously. Enjoy! RULES: Please don't flame me for making any of the characters act like they normally wouldn't. Please don't say, "THIS DOESNT SOUND LIK KEVIN SMITH OMFG!111ONE" and all that. It's artistic interpretaion. Just thought I'd clear that up. Also, before you scroll below, know that there is slash in this. Slightly. And mild cursing. Thank you.

Banky pushed his shoulder against the mattress and shoved it into the white Rent-A-Van truck that sat parked outside his apartment. He sighed and fidgeted with his cap. It was a difficult decision, moving out, but Banky knew it had to be done. The apartment was just too cluttered, full of memories and hopes, desires and fantasies, and Banky didn't want to be there anymore, or as long as that dyke was coming over. Banky dusted his hands off on his jeans and began to make his way back up the stairs of the apartment. Just a few more boxes to haul into the van and then he'd be out of this hellhole.

Banky pulled open the door and stepped in. The smell of freshly roasted coffee wafted past his nose. He didn't realize Holden was sitting on the couch with two purple mugs in his hands until he saw him stand up. Banky rolled his eyes and sighed as Holden progressed towards him, his faded jeans and white baggy t-shirt laying limply on his body. Banky turned and picked up a box, which was covered in tape, and held it under his arm, turning to open the door.

"Banky." Holden said. Banky, whose hand still lay rested on the doorknob, turned around sharply.

"What do you want? I only need to move a few more boxes, and then I'm gone. You can have the dyke move in two minutes after I leave, so I should just hurry up so you guys can go screw each others brains out." He quipped. Banky realized how rude he had sounded, but it didn't matter. He just wanted to get out of here.

"…I, uh…I just wanted to talk." Holden murmured. He shifted from foot to foot nervously.

"I can't, Holden," Banky said. "I gotta get all this crap over to a hotel."

"A hotel?"

"Where else am I going to stay?"

Holden sighed. "Banky, I don't even know why you're moving out."

"I've told you why, Holden!" Banky said, turning around and pulling the door open with his free hand.

"Stop." Holden said, pushing his hand against the door.

Banky starred at Holden's hand for a few seconds, unable to figure out why the hell he was doing this. He turned around and looked at him fiercely.

"Holden, I'm leaving! GET OVER IT! You'll have that little woman-lover! Why would it matter if I left?"

Holden shook his head. He sighed and walked over to the table and placed the mugs down slowly as not to spill them. He wiped his hands on his jeans with Banky watching him closely. Holden came back over to Banky and looked at him.

"Banky, tell me why you are really leaving. I know for a fact, Banky, a goddamn fact that you are not leaving because you think this place is too small. That is the most idiotic excuse I have ever heard you use, and Banky, I've heard you use some pretty stupid ones. How many years have we been living here? If it were too goddamn small, then you would have told me before we bought it. Stop giving me these lame-ass excuses, Bank, and just tell me what the hell is going on!" Holden bellowed.

Banky looked at him, his jaw firm in anger. Holden didn't really want to know. He just didn't want Banky to move because he probably wanted an excuse for Alyssa to not move all her crap into the apartment. He sighed and put down the box.

"You really wanna know, Holden?" He asked.

"Yeah, I do."

Looking back at me I see that I never really got it right
I never stopped to think of you
I'm always wrapped up in things I cannot win
you are the antidote that gets me by
something strong like a drug that gets me high

Banky took in a deep breath. "Okay, here's the truth, Holden, and if you aren't ready, well then I'd hate to be you.

Do you remember in fourth grade when that kid James Rodderson had that bitchin' Speed Racer backpack, and you wanted it really bad? Do you remember? You remember how you asked your mom for the goddamn backpack every single day, and she would tell you, 'No, I'm sorry, Holden, we just can't afford it.' and you would always say how you thought she meant that you weren't good enough? You ached for that backpack so hard, man. You wished that you could be James for just one day, so you could own the backpack. And you hated James because he had the backpack?"

"Where is this going, Banky?" Holden inquired.

"Just listen!" Banky said. "Even though it was something as stupid as a backpack, you still wanted it really bad, right?"

"Banky, what does this have to do with you moving out?"

Banky sighed and looked Holden dead in his dark brown eyes. "In that situations, I feel like I'm you, you're the backpack, and Alyssa is James." Holden looked at Banky, his mouth slightly agape with his eyebrows furrowed.

"Banky, are you trying to say that…" Holden trailed off.

"Am I trying to say what?" He asked.

"That…you…uh…l-love me?" Holden asked, his voice shaky.

What I really meant to say
is I'm sorry for the way I am
I never meant to be so cold
I never meant to be so cold
what I really meant to say
is I'm sorry for the way I am
I never meant to be so cold
I never meant to be so cold

His heart beat faster in his chest as Banky heard Holden ask him if he loved him. Why couldn't Banky spit out the answer? It was just a simple 'yes'. It wasn't goddamn algebra. Why couldn't he just say 'Yes, Holden, I love you' and get it over with? Why was it so hard? He couldn't look at him. Banky's eyes shifted down towards the floor.

"Bank?"

"Hmm?" Banky asked, still looking at the floor.

"Is what I said right?"

He couldn't look at him. He just couldn't. But he had to. Banky looked up. "Fine, Holden. It's true, okay! It's true! Every single time I see you with her, I begin to think of how much I wish that I were the one kissing you and all that shit! It hurts, Holden! It really does! But it doesn't matter anyways, because I'm leaving." He bent down and began to pick up the box, but suddenly felt a strong hand on his right shoulder.

Before Banky could react, he was shoved up against the wall, Holden's hands pressed up against his chest, and they're lips pressed together. Banky could feel a strange emotion curling around his body. He didn't know what it was, but it felt real good. He moved his hands around Holden's back and moved his left hand into his back right pocket, and Banky's right hand slipped into Holden's left pocket. Holden moved forward and now their bodies were right up against each other, closer than Banky could have ever hoped.

Banky pulled back for a moment of air and laughed quietly as he plunged back in for another long kiss. Holden moved one of his hands down Banky's leg, and Banky felt himself shiver. It was good. It was so good. His whole body shivered as Holden ran his hand down his thigh.

To you I'm sorry about all the lies
maybe in a different light
you could see me stand on my own again
cause now I can't see
you are the antidote that got me by
something strong like a drug that got me high

"S-stop…" He whispered, pulling away from Holden's lips.

"What?" Holden inquired, confusion dripping from his voice.

"I'm not…this isn't right."

"Why?"

"I like girls, Holden."

"…I do too."

"So why are you doing this?"

"Because I know you want me too."

Banky smiled and closed his eyes as Holden leaned back in for another kiss. Their lips were interlocked for a long while, melting together to form a masterpiece. Banky suddenly stopped.

"What is it now?" Holden asked, sighing dramatically.

"I'm…taking you away from her, aren't I? I'm taking you away from that bitch." Banky said.

"From…Alyssa?"

"Who else, genius!"

Holden sighed, pressing his forehead on Banky's. "Banky, that doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. You love her. I hate to admit it, but you love the dyke."

"Sure I do, but…I love you, too."

"I love you, too, but I can't just take another…chick's guy…did I just say that?"

Holden laughed. "Yeah, you did, Bank."

Banky shrugged. "Still. I can't just take another chick's guy. I'd feel…I don't know…guilty."

"Yeah, well, you should."

"What!"

Holden shook his head. "I'm sorry…I meant that…well…I don't what I meant. I think it might I have been wrong about saying that I loved her. Sure, I cared about her a lot. Hell, I still do. But she could never replace the hole you would leave if you left. I'm sorry I never told you…" He sighed. "I'm sorry I never told you how much you meant to me before. I didn't think of your feelings. I didn't think of you. I'm sorry for the way I've been acting, man. I've just been a real jackass lately. I mean, having Alyssa over here in the first place was a bad idea. I know how much it hurt you. Living here with Alyssa around must have been digging at your heart."

"Damn right." Banky muttered.

I never meant to be so cold
I never really wanted you to see
the screwed up side of me that I keep
locked inside of me so deep
it always seems to get to me
I never really wanted you to know
so many things that you shouldn't have known
I guess for me there's just no hope
I never meant to be so cold

Holden eyed him, but continued, brushing his hand across Banky's cheek "Banky, you make me happy. Honestly. You make me a better person. I can always count on you for a laugh, Bank, and that's the God honest truth. I'm sorry about…" Holden sighed quietly. "…everything. I mean, damn, there's only so much I can apologize for. And there's only so many ways I can apologize. But I guess…this will have to do." Holden pushed his lips forward and kissed him, moving his hand down his leg and gripping Banky's thigh. Banky said nothing, but pulled Holden close to him. His left hand moved from Holden's pocket and up to the back of his head, pushing it forward towards his own lips.

Banky could feel the block of ice that had lodged in his throat slowly start to melt…right down his face. He was crying. He was crying like a whiney little bitch. The worst part was that he couldn't stop it. He moved both of his hands to his face and furiously wiped at his eyes. Holden extended a hand forward and wiped at his eyes with his thumbs. He pulled forward and kissed Banky's wet cheeks. He took him in his arms and felt a warm sensation come over his heart as Banky buried his face in his shoulder. Banky did not cry, but merely said:

"Don't let go, Holden…" His voice, which was already a whisper, was muffled by Holden's chest.

"I wont." He whispered in his ear. "I promise."