The Truth About Drew

t h i r t y t h r e e

When Drew opened his eyes, the only thing he could see was darkness. The room he was in was uncomfortably warm and the air was almost too thick to breathe. He sat up, shaking his head, trying to remember what had happened and where he was.

"Kai?" he called out tentatively, reaching out and patting the area around him. It was soft and slightly springy. As he moved outwards with his hands, they suddenly dropped off and he managed to trace the outline of the object he was sitting on. Not a bed, but more like a mattress tossed on the ground.

"Okay," he said slowly. "This might very well be very, very bad, but let's keep calm." He crawled to the edge of the mattress and put his foot on the ground delicately. After deciding the ground wasn't going to crack and fall away under him he put his other foot on the ground and stood up, putting his hands out in front of him. Crashing into something would be bad.

"Damn, why's it so dark? Pay your damn electric bill," he groused as he carefully made his way to the wall, patting along it until he reached the light switch and flicked the light on.

It was a bedroom; at least Drew thought it was a bedroom. There was a dresser, which Drew praised his lucky stars he didn't crash into, a small window, and sure enough, a mattress pushed into the corner of the room. That was it. "Not much for interior decorating, are we?"
Drew muttered, trying to distract himself from his horrible situation with thinly-veiled sarcasm.

The door was right next to the light switch, so he tried that first. He rattled the door knob and spat out a few choice profanities when it refused to budge. "That's just great."

The window was bolted, and too small anyways to try and crawl through. "Maybe I can break the door down with the dresser? Shove it really hard into the door?" he mused out loud. He did that occasionally when he was stressed.

Just as he was about to try, the door knob shook. Panicking, Drew flicked the light back off, dove back onto the mattress and pretended to sleep. Cliché? Maybe, but if it kept him from being caught trying to bust a door down, he didn't care all that much.

The door clicked open and Drew evened out his breathing, deepening his breaths as best he could. The light flickered and the light bulb spattered to life. Soft foot steps padded into the room and the mattress dipped beside Drew as whoever it was sat down next to him.

A hand, large and calloused, brushed his hair away from his forehead and Drew involuntarily shuddered. The hand paused and Drew's blood froze in his veins. Then the hand continued its slow stroking and Drew allowed himself a teeny tiny drop of relaxation.

"You're so beautiful when you're sleeping; you always were," a voice said, almost fondly. Drew's sinking suspicion was confirmed; yep, it was Jared alright.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this," he continued, "but I figured you wouldn't listen to me if I just tried to talk to you. You've always been so stubborn. Nobody could tell you what to do, huh? I just want you to be happy, but why can't you be happy with me?" He sighed. "I'm sorry about what I said."

Was he?

"I didn't mean it. They told me I didn't mean it. I've always loved you, Drew. I have."

They? Who're they? His parents?

"I won't have it. I won't. I don't know who this boy is you're hanging around with is, but I won't have it. You're mine, okay? All mine. Nobody can touch you except me." The hand that was once in his hair was softly ghosting over his neck now, a finger tracing his collar bone.

He couldn't help it: Drew started shaking. Just a tiny tremor, but Jared was quick to feel it.

"Drew?" he asked. "Are you awake?"