Here In The Afterglow

Chapter 3.1

He stays awake all night, sitting at the round table with the light in his blank eyes.

The only time he moves is to get ice from the fridge when the pain in his ribs truly becomes unbearable. It stings like he's pressing fire to his skin, but he keeps it there until he feels nothing, until it's all burnt away.

Eventually, everything goes numb. His mind finds somewhere deeper than silence, finds another layer to the world around him and his thoughts that he never knew existed. It's just nothingness, purer than darkness, like darkness isn't real. It's intangible and blank and non-existent.

When his mom's car pulls into the driveway, he hasn't even noticed that the sun has risen.

He doesn't move, doesn't run. He stays where here is, staring dull and with hunched shoulders as keys jingle in the lock, only to find it already open. His ribs are aching again.

Jay doesn't even notice him when she comes inside. Her hair is falling out of its bun, wrangled and frizzy against her neck. Her nursing scrubs are crumpled and a little dirty, her stance stiff as she shuffles into the kitchen and reaches for the coffee pot. Normally, Louis would be coming back from his morning ride. She doesn't expect him to be here.

So, when she turns, cup in her hands, she startles at the sight of him and almost drops it. The liquid splashes over the side as she jolts, landing with an odd splattering sound. It reminds Louis of his skin on the concrete, of his blood spraying onto the locker room floor. Vaguely, he wonders what this morning's class will think of it. His stomach curls.

His mom has gone very, very pale, eyes shocked as she stands frozen.

Then, she comes over in a rush, cup forgotten on the counter.

"What-. What happened?" Jay gasps out incredulously, sitting in front of him with her mouth agape. Her eyes go from being wide with fright to furiousness slowly. "I can't believe this. I'm calling the school!"

Louis says nothing, just closes his eyes against the natural light he's recognizing, against her harsh stare. Jay looks close to tears, eyes roaming over his bruises and cuts and scrapes, a hand slowly coming up to cover her mouth.

There's this awful sinking weight tugging on his heart, trying to pull it down into his stomach and pull apart his arteries, trying to bleed him out. It sits heavy and firm and won't leave him. Crumbling in on himself slightly, Louis finally meets her eye. When he does, she shifts uncomfortably, staring back.

"Do you love me?" he whispers, so soft and broken. Jay crumples almost immediately, guilt washing over her entire face.

"Of-. Of course," she reaches for his hand, but he curls it into a fist and swallows thickly. "Darling, you know why I'm not around. I have to work those shifts. I'm sorry."

Louis shakes his head, mouth twisting as his eyes start to water again. "No matter what?"

Jay is silent for a long time, just watching him as her face slowly softens, as her shoulders sink low and her eyes grow wet. "Lou, is this about..."

Louis wants to answer her. He wants to. But when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a hacking sob.

He crumples and folds his arms on top of the table, buries his beaten face in them as he cries, as his entire body rocks and aches with it. Jay's fingers slide through his hair. They smell like coffee and it makes his head pound.

"Louis, breathe," Jay whispers, trying to soothe him. He can't stop crying, can't stop letting every single thing wash over him like a freak wave, spinning him and crushing him and grinding him into the seabed. "It's alright, ssh, you're alright."

"I'm gay," he blurts out, sobbing. "Mom, I'm gay. I can't change it and I tried but this is who I am and I just can't-"

"Oh, sweetheart," Jay pulls him into her arms carefully, hushing him as he shakes, as his face grows damp with tears and a running nose. "My baby. My baby boy."

"I love him," Louis cries, face twisting in pain as his ribs scream. "I love him so much. All I want is to be allowed to love him."

He doesn't see her reaction to that, his eyes clenched and swollen shut. But he feels her fingers tighten around his shoulders, hears her breath catch in her throat. She just keeps running her fingers over his arms silently, soothing him.

"Please don't be mad," he whispers miserably.

"I'm not, darling," Jay murmurs. She brushes a wisp of dirty hair off his forehead. "It's a lot for me to take in, but I'm not mad. You're my son, my baby, and I'm always here for you, okay?"

He nods with a loud sniffle, slowly turning his face into her neck to hide there. Relief floods through him, fingers twitching with his chest.

"What happened?" she asks again, this time softer.

"After practice-," Louis starts, but his lungs tighten and his eyes swell up. He takes three deep, burning breathes, and tries again. "Um. After practice, the team jumped me. I think they've-. I think they've known for a while. Were just waiting for the right time, I guess."

"Was Stan there?" Jay asks. Louis' face hardens.

"Yeah," he mutters. "He was."

"Well, did he help?"

"Just stood there," Louis chuckles dully. "Think he got a few good kicks in."

"I thought he was your friend," Jay breathes sharply in shock.

"He's been psyching me up," Louis says. "Playing me along."

"That little shit," she swears, body tensing. "I'll be having words with his father, he won't-"

"No," Louis whispers sharply, pulse spiking. "You can't. Mom, you can't say anything."

"Louis, there is no way in hell I'm letting them get away with hurting you like this," she says, looking down at him sternly.

"Mom, please," he begs. "You don't understand. By tomorrow everyone will know about me, and it's too dangerous to go around talking to people like Mr. Lucas."

"Well what do you expect me to do?" she huffs, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her fingers. "How do want me to handle this?"

"It's not about you," he says angrily. "You're not the one who got the shit kicked out of them. Please listen to me. You can't talk about this with anyone. Please."

She presses her lips into a thin line, but it melts away slowly as she flicks her eyes over him, over the cuts and bruises and exhaustion.

"Let's get you up into bed," she says softly. "I need to take a closer look at your ribs."