My...Stepbrother? [boyxboy]

My...Stepbrother? {14}

                                                                                ***Kory’s POV***

                I waited anxiously until I saw Zeke’s dad pull into our driveway. Zeke got out of the car and his dad pulled out and down the street.

                I ran outside and up to Zeke, who had an amused smile on his face. I gripped his shirt and his amusement only grew.

                “Why do you look amused? Trace ran away! Call the police! Call the FBI! Call the CIA! Call Inspector Gadget! CALL SOMEONE!” I cried.

                Zeke laughed and pulled my hands off of his shirt. “Kory, he didn’t run away. There are three possible places he could be right now, and I think I know which one he’s at,” he said and took my hand in his.

                He led me over to the pool house in the backyard and we stepped inside. I looked around but saw no sign of Trace whatsoever.

                Zeke sighed. “Yea, he’s here,” he whispered.

                “How can you tell?” I whispered back, scanning the room yet again and still finding nothing.

                Zeke pointed at a blank spot on the floor. “He pulled the ladder up,” he said simply and walked over to the blank space. I was confused as hell, but I followed him anyways.

                “Trace, throw the ladder down,” Zeke called, cupping his hands over his mouth and yelling at the ceiling. I looked up and noticed that there was a hole in the ceiling.

                “Go away Zeke,” Trace’s voice floated down roughly.

                “Trace, throw the ladder down or I’ll have Kory get one from the garage,” Zeke said stubbornly, glaring up at the ceiling hole.

                “Zeke, go away. I want to be alone. Hence pulling the ladder up,” Trace snapped.

                “Fine. Kory, go get a ladder out of the garage please,” Zeke said and I started to leave the pool house.

                “Fine! Fucking dammit Zeke!” Trace cried furiously and a second later, a rope ladder swung down. Zeke grinned triumphantly and motioned me back over to him.

                We climbed up the rope ladder and into the attic of the pool house. Trace was sitting against the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees and a glare on his face.

                “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded in annoyance.

                “What’s wrong Trace?” Zeke asked in concern.

                “Nothing’s wrong! I just wanted to be alone!” Trace cried.

                But even I could tell that something was wrong. There was a look in his eyes that could be best described as…well, hurt. Something had really hurt Trace. But it wasn’t physical. Something told me that this wasn’t physical pain.

                “Trace, what’s wr-”

                His fist shot out and connected with my face before I could even finish speaking. I stumbled away in shock as I felt something warm start to drip from my nose.

                “Trace, what the fuck? You didn’t have to do that!” Zeke screamed furiously. I grabbed his arm before he could attack Trace.