Fighting Thrasher Jones

{18} Nothing's Forever

"Since I did so well," I said, confidently leaning back on my elbows as I stretched my legs out on the mat in front of me, "Why don't you treat me to some ice cream?"

Benji smirked. "No cash, remember?" He pointed out, tapping his empty pockets as proof. 

I rolled my eyes, and coughed into my hand, saying, "Ice cream is cheaper than a movie," followed by, "Come on, you never leave this apartment."

"I walked you to school."

Throwing a hand in the air, I remarked incredulously, "You made me skip school that day. We never even made it to the building."

He shrugged, unraveling the tape from his hands. "I haven't hardly left this place in years. Why should I start now?"

I bit my lip, debating whether or not to question his motives for never leaving this apartment. Benji caught my hesitation and sighed, revealing, "The only other person I'd seen in two years had been Sabrina until you and Carlos came along. Even that's overdoing it."

Pushing myself off the ground, I sat up as Benji knelt before me. He took my hand in his and heavily focused on unwrapping the sloppy job I'd done of binding the tape around my hands. I watched as he did it, and found my eyes drawn to the initials tattooed on the inside of his wrist.

My hand snapped out on its own accord, grasping his wrist tightly. His eyes widened, jumping to mine in surprise as he silently questioned me. My eyes traced the initials that belonged to my brother, L.E., and then to the initials of his killer, T.J. By now, my hand had begun to sweat, unsteadily holding Benji's wrist.

"Was Thrasher Jones a stage name?" I asked, realizing he'd tattooed my brother's real initials while Thrasher sounded more of a stage name.

Benji abruptly shook my hand from his and stood up, brusquely muttering, "This is exactly why I told you not to ask questions when you moved in. I thought I told you that I'd tell you everything after the competition."

"Damnit Benji!" I cursed, tearing the tape from my hands, "It's obvious that you're purposely withholding information. Don't you think I deserve to know? It's about my brother."

Benji's jaw visibly clenched and his shoulders became rigid. "I'm selfish. Worthless. Revolting," he spat each word with his back to me, "and because of that, I won't tell you until I absolutely have to."

"I don't even know anything about you other than the fact that you were a boxer like my brother and that you trained him. Benji, you're practically a stranger," I said, instantly wishing that I could take back the final sentence.

Turning to face me, he said, "Hell, I don't even know who I am anymore. I can't recognize myself. All of these feelings, emotions, and desires are completely foreign to me, Drew. I was empty before I met you and now I'm about to lose you."

My mouth dried and I struggled to speak. "I don't understand. You're not going to lose me. I'm staying by your side," I swore, warily keeping my distance. Benji's cryptic messages were scaring me and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't decode them.

"What Thrasher did was," Benji paused, "unforgivable. If he could take it back, he would. If he could trade places with Leo, he would. If he could die, he would."

I felt the Advil begin to wear off and a headache start to cause pressure behind my forehead. "He is dead. He committed suicide. What are you saying, Benji?"