🏆Featured on TeenFiction | Head Over Heels
To Leroy 'Lee' Hiew, home's never felt like home. He has a huge mansion, a big car, and more money than he could ever spend. And yet, the idea of home always seems to elude him.
Armed with his dog, Socks...
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By Monday, Jack's bandage is gone. It's like a bullet to Lee's chest, seeing the creamy skin he's always longed to run his lips over marred with a single circle, angry and red, yellow-brown at the edges, his sloped flesh caving in. And he wishes---wishes so badly---that he could just kiss it better and take all Jack's pain away.
The fact that Danny and his friends aren't back to school yet---except Mike, of course, who glances at Lee ever so often with the same beady, hateful, fear-filled eyes---is the slightest balm to Lee's heart, a reminder that I can and will fuck you up if you hurt the people I love. And you'll never hurt them again.
"My rounds have been pretty quiet. People are shockingly cooperative nowadays," Jack states without looking at Lee, his attention firmly fixed on straightening his tie. "I suppose it has something to do with all the gossip. There's a rumour going around that Danny didn't fall into a drain. Everyone knows he's a bully, so they say he got beat up for messing with the wrong people. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Jack finally turns to Lee, something resembling amusement flickering in his brown eyes. "But of course, it's just a rumour. There's no way he actually got beat up. He just so happened to fall into a very convenient drain with all his friends. The gossips are always wrong."
Lee cracks a grin. "Careful, Pref. They might think you're the one beating bullies up with those big-ass hands if you keep spreading gossip."
Jack snorts. "Me? Never. I prefer to use these big-ass hands for something a little more useful. All the same, it's a nice change, though. People are finally giving me an easier time. Even Malachi's been laying low."
"Don't worry, Pref. I'm always around to make your life harder."
"I can tell." Jack reaches for Lee's tanned throat, wrapping his fingers around his collar as usual. It's become a regular routine now, something so comfortingly domestic that it lets butterflies loose in Lee's stomach, their frantic wings a frenzied, dizzying haze against the rapid pulse of his heart. Lee breathes in the scent of laundry detergent and melted frost, head so light he feels like he might start floating. "Judging by the way your stupid collar's still crooked as all hell."
"Thought I'd make it match my sexuality."
"Not everything has to match your sexuality, dumbass," Jack complains, giving Lee's collar a hard tug. The veins creeping over his knuckles press against the base of Lee's neck, an IV leaking purple-blue into his own bloodstream. "I'm not asking you to be straight in anything except your uniform."
"You're not straight either."
"And you can't take a hint."
"With you, no one can."
"Shut the hell up and let me do my job," Jack grumbles, thumbing every crease of Lee's collar until it's pin-straight around his throat, the starched material hugging his skin like an old friend. "There, so much better. Now we just have to do something about your messy hair."
