what we do best

part thirteen

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Tristan says, raising me on my tip toes so I could reach his lips easier.

"Okay," I murmur, closing the front door behind me softly. I watch out the front window until Tristan has turned the corner.

"Fuck was that?" My father comes shouting at me. His eyes are heavy with a lack of sleep and his classic job interview attire was replaced with ratty t-shirt and sweatpants.

"What?" My body's instinctive nature was to bolt. I plant my feet in the ground.

"Who was that boy? You a fag now?" The familiar scent of alcohol from my father's breath is pungent

"I've been a fag for a few years, but you've been too shit-faced to care about anything. Isn't that right?" Something in me is stirring.

Nothing is said before my intestines are turned inside out. My head hits the ground at the same time that I see Zoey peek out from the corner of the hallway. Her eyes flash with horror. I want to tell her to run. She disappears into her room. I let my body go limp.

I stand up when I know that my father is gone, the front door has been slammed and the car has sped down the street. I race to Zoey's room and collect her in my arms. It's nearly eleven at night, but I make her get her shoes on.

Tristan's number is the first one I try.

Please pick up, I'm begging.

"Ollie?"

I exhale.

"Can you sneak me and Zoey in? Don't tell your moms. Please."

"I'll be at the back gate."

Zoey cries into my shoulder the whole way to Tristan's.

"It'll be okay, Zo. We're gonna go to Tristan's house and sleep there, okay?" I squeeze her tighter to me.

The back gate is unlatched when we reach the house. Tristan waits on his back porch, tears already streaming down his cheeks. He hugs us tight, urging us inside and upstairs.

"My moms are asleep downstairs and Josh and Addie are heavy sleepers. What happened?" Tristan holds my left hand and Zoey's right.

I recount a sugarcoated version of the night. Tristan hangs on to every word I say, his eyes drowned in horror.

"He saw us together?" Tris says, finally. I nod. "Oh, my god. This is all my fault. Ollie, I'm so sorry."

Tris stands up and begins pacing. I pull him back down. "Hey. This was no one's fault except his. He was drunk and irrational. Like always."

Zoey hooks her arms around Tristan's waist, and he runs a gentle hand through her hair.

"You guys can stay here as long as you need. I'll go get sleeping bags," Tris' feet pad down the hallway, careful not to disturb his siblings.

He returns with two sleeping bags, laying them parallel to one another on the floor next to his bed.

"Zoey, you can sleep in my bed. Ollie and I will take the floor," Tristan lifts her into his bed, and she hugs him tight, reluctant to let go.

Zoey's asleep in minutes, leaving Tristan and I up. He holds one finger up and disappears for a moment. Tris returns with a washcloth and rubbing alcohol, dabbing my face gently, squeezing my hands when I wince.

"Let's go into the bathroom. The lighting is better in there," Tris whispers, dragging me down the hall. I take my shirt off gingerly, letting Tristan take care of me like he does.

"It hurts to breathe," I tell him when he runs a hand down my chest.

"Then I won't hug you too tight," He tells me, wrapping his arms around me, leaving a bit of room between my chest and his.