Fix Me (Alternative ending)

It Started At Nineteen

This is Chapter Seven of my original book. Am taking name recommendations, these are as it stands currently:

Kyan is the main character - we love him he's precious
Asher is his older brother - we love him too
Freya is their best friend - eh she's kinda a bitch sometimes
Beau is the love interest - what a king honestly
Holly is Holly . ew no

Am currently working on situations he has with Holly (ranging from fairly mild to rlly severe levels of abuse) so if you have any ideas etc, they're welcome either here or through dms.

Enjoy + critiques are welcome and they're may be the odd typo, I am yet to proof read

Triggers: Mentions + descriptions of emotional and physical abuse

Freya talked about Beau constantly. She told Kyan how much she fancied him, that she wanted to ask him out. Kyan said what she wanted to hear without mentioning how much he wanted to kiss the man. He couldn’t admit that, not to her, not to anyone. They wouldn’t get it. Not even Asher would get it, Kyan was sure. 

Three days before they were to fly home, she excitedly told him what had happened, that they’d kissed. She went on and on about it and Kyan felt hurt and helpless and stupid all at once. He never should have thought he’d have any sort of chance with Beau. The man never even said he was gay anyway. Kyan just hoped and he soon learned that hoping didn’t work, not one bit. 

Asher found him in the bathroom next door to the dressing room, crying. He hugged him, asked what was wrong. Kyan shook his head, didn’t say. He wanted to, God knows he did, but he couldn’t. Holly would find out one way or another, like she always did, and he’d have been dead meat. Not that he didn’t already feel that way. 

“We’ll be home soon,” Asher comforted, wondering if he was just homesick. That made Kyan feel worse. He didn’t want to be home soon. Not least because Holly had been saying how he should move in with her once he got back. She didn’t say why but he knew it was because she wanted to know where he was all the time. He was scared he might actually lock him in some day and never let him go. 

“I know,” Kyan mumbled. 

“Come on, Kye, what’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I’m not that stupid.” 

“Ash, it’s fine.” 

“I know you’re lying,” Asher said. 

The boy wiped his eyes, pulled away from the hug. “It’s just,” he looked down, “it’s stupid. Nevermind.” 

“Don’t be silly. Tell me. You know I won’t ever think you’re stupid for being upset.” He put his fingers to his brother’s chin, made him look at him. “I know something’s wrong. You’ve been quiet for a while. Just tell me, okay? I won’t tell anyone else if you don’t want them to know.” 

Kyan sniffled. “I miss Holly is all,” he lied. He’d never said a bigger lie. 

“You’ll see her soon.” 

“I know.” 

Asher frowned. “You sure that’s all? Nothing else is wrong?” 

Kyan nodded, wiped his eyes again. He had so many chances to say something and yet he didn’t.

She called him again in the early morning. He was exhausted and dreading the return to her and when he began crying she told him how pathetic he was being and that made his crying worse. She hung up and Kyan tried to calm down but then, half an hour later, she called again. She wouldn’t stop talking, shouting at points, and the boy saw no point in trying to get her to stop. He just lay there, face pressed into the pillow, and listened to her going on and on about everything that she didn’t like about him. His lack of understanding for her, his inability to be a proper boyfriend, his bad fashion sense, his irritating voice, his weak mind. Anything she could think of, she said. Kyan didn’t know whether to believe her or not. How could one have so many faults?