The Ties That Bind

The Bruises Beneath the Surface

Drew woke to the faint morning light filtering through his window, casting soft shadows over his room. The first thing he noticed was the warm weight pressed against his side, a comforting presence he had grown used to over the years. He looked down to see Evan curled up against him, his hand clutching the fabric of Drew's shirt like a lifeline. The sight tugged at his heart, and he couldn't help but wrap his arm around Evan a bit tighter, gently running his fingers through his friend's hair.

The peaceful moment shattered, however, when Drew caught a glimpse of Evan's face. A dark bruise marred his cheek, an ugly reminder of the night before. Drew's heart sank as his fingers ghosted over the mark, rage simmering in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to storm over to Evan's house and confront Richard—no, beat him senseless. And Kyle, too, for everything he'd ever done to make Evan's life hell.

But Drew forced himself to stay calm. He couldn't leave now. Not when Evan needed him, needed someone to hold him and make him feel safe. Someone to remind him that there was a place he belonged, even if his own family denied him that.

His gaze softened as he looked down at Evan, taking in his peaceful, vulnerable expression. Drew's mind flooded with memories and realizations—the things that made Evan who he was and the things that should have never been a part of his friend's life.

This was the same Evan who couldn't take care of himself properly, who'd rely on Drew and the others to remember the smallest things like eating lunch or wearing a jacket when it got cold. The Evan who, despite his sharp wit and playful nature, often seemed lost when left to fend for himself, as if he hadn't been taught the basics of self-care. The Evan who would often look to Drew and their friends for guidance on even the most trivial matters, seeking approval in ways that tugged at Drew's heart because he knew it came from years of not having a safe place to lean on.

This was also the Evan who clung to his friend group with a kind of desperation, as though afraid they'd slip away if he didn't hold on tight enough. And maybe, in some ways, he was right to feel that way. After all, his own family had failed him, had stripped him of the safety that every family should provide. Evan relied on Drew and their friends for comfort, for validation, for a sense of belonging that should have come from his family. It made Drew ache to think of how much weight Evan had to carry alone, even with all of them around him.

Evan, the boy who craved touch like a plant reaching toward the sun, who leaned into any casual hug or reassuring pat on the back, soaking up affection he'd been starved of for so long. Drew remembered countless moments when Evan would seek him out, initiating little touches, leaning against him on the couch, or reaching out for high-fives that lingered a little too long. And though Drew never hesitated to give him that affection, he wished it wasn't something Evan had to search so hard for.

The worst part was the self-deprecating humor, the way Evan would use jokes at his own expense to deflect the pain simmering beneath the surface. He'd make comments about his own "uselessness" or laugh off his clumsiness with a dismissive "Of course, I'd mess that up." Drew saw through the jokes, knew they were more than just words. They were wounds disguised as humor, hiding the scars of a boy who believed he wasn't worth much.

And the basement. Drew's chest tightened as he remembered the time they'd all gone to help Noah clear out his basement, a dusty, cramped space filled with old furniture and forgotten boxes. Evan had tried to join them, but the moment he stepped in, he had frozen, his face going pale, his breathing turning shallow. Drew had noticed the panic in Evan's eyes, the way his hands shook as he tried to act like everything was fine. Without saying a word, Drew had taken Evan's arm, quietly guiding him back upstairs and staying by his side until the color returned to his face.

Most infuriating of all was the way Evan became submissive around Richard and Kyle. Drew had seen it more times than he could count, the way Evan's shoulders would hunch, his head would drop, and his voice would lower whenever his stepfather or stepbrother were around. Evan would answer them with a meek "Yes, sir" or a soft "I'm sorry" for things that weren't his fault, trying to appease them as though any resistance would only make things worse. He'd learned to avoid eye contact, to keep his voice steady and calm, to never give them a reason to raise their hands. Drew hated seeing him like that—small, broken, and forced into submission just to survive in his own home.