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Your Side - a coda

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Dennis: Don't leave.

Warren: What?

Dennis: Do you need a fucking written invitation, man? I said 'don't leave.'

Warren: Oh. Okay.

(They sit in silence for a few moments. Dennis passes Warren the joint, and they each take a few hits.)

Warren: (inhaling deeply) What does happen next?

Dennis: Not a fucking clue, man. Not a clue.

Warren: I don't wanna ... stop being friends.

(Dennis ducks his head and mumbles.) Me neither.

Warren: You're really on my side.

Dennis: Yeah.

Warren: Well, good.

Dennis: Good.


Warren: Do you.. not.. want me with any of those girls?

(Dennis' head snaps up)

Dennis: What? You're fucking crazy, man. Why would you think that.

Warren: Oh, just our whole previous discussion.

Dennis: I said I was sorry, okay? I won't knock them anymore.

Warren: I just think.. there's something else.

Dennis: Jesus, Warren, next thing you'll be saying is I'm in love with you.

(Silence. Both trying to take in what was said and the apparent truth behind it.)

Warren: You did .. say it earlier.

Dennis: I'm way too stoned for this, man.

(They pass the joint till it burns down, fingers brushing more than necessary.)

Warren: Don't call me a fag, anymore.

Dennis: Warr--

Warren: Don't insult the girls I like. Don't call me an asshole. Just face up to what you fucking feel, Denny. Without making me feel like shit.

Dennis: You're talking to someone who never thought he'd be a homo, man. Cut me some slack at least.

(Warren turns toward him, resting his head against the foot of the bed.)

Warren: I love you, man. You're still my hero.

Dennis (laughs): You just want me to cry again. (pause.) Don't. Just .. don't.

Warren (continues as if he never stopped): But if you ever fucking use me again for one of your stunts --

Dennis: I won't.

(pauses a beat)

I think I'm a fag, man.

Warren: S'okay.

Dennis: I think it's your fault.

Warren: (deprecating): Course it is.

Dennis (overlapping): I think I was jealous of all those girls. That I liked kissing you earlier. That I meant the ?I love you.?

Warren (laughing without malice): I think my sensitivity is wearing off on you. Or you're just fucking high.

(They stare at one another, heads back, looking lazily at one another as the lethargic pull of euphoria washes over them both.)

Warren: Hey.

Dennis: Yeah?

Warren: I can hold your gaze.

Dennis (laughing): So I see. My eyes are still amazing, though.

Warren: Yeah.

(The silence stretches for hours it seems.)

Dennis: I think if I were a director, this would be the climax.

Warren (voice low): You mean, 'conclusion.'

Dennis (just as low): I mean climax.

(Their mouths meet in a kiss full of pent up anger, frustration, and longing after these hellish past two days. As the lights fade, they stay locked in the embrace; like two lost boys searching for anything to hold onto and realizing it was there all along.)