Social Norms (Synacky)

Chapter Forty-Eight

Author's Note: Here's another chapter because I feel so bad about the previous one... I hope you guys like this... :(

-foREVerADeathbat

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Zacky’s POV

He spent the night in the park.

Curled up in the tube slide wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was better than home. Or with Brian.

Brian.

He had done it. Zacky had put all his trust in him and he had tried to… tried to…

Zacky whimpered softly as he let the tears flow freely. Who was that Brian? It wasn’t the same boy who had so lovingly caressed his skin, who had asked his permission for every touch. It wasn’t the boy who kissed his scars, who told him he was beautiful.

No, he had changed, quickly and drastically. Drugs did that to you. They did that to Samuel, they had done that to Zacky those years before.

But even if Brian had been high, Zacky had no idea he had the capacity to hurt him that way. Where was that love? Brian had said “I love you” so many times. Were those lies?

He cried and sobbed until he was hiccupping and exhausted, closing his eyes and desperately praying for rest. He just wanted to rest forever, he just wanted to be done.

Maybe it would be good to move back to Washington. At least he’d be away from this monster.

His heart rejected that word. Even though Brian had done that, he wasn’t a monster. His mind had been driven by wild need. That wasn’t the real Brian, not his Brian… it couldn’t be.

And he hadn’t done it. He could have, Zacky was vulnerable and powerless. He could’ve fucked Zacky’s brains out and left him, a sobbing, quivering mess. But he hadn’t. He came to his senses. He felt remorse. He didn’t even beg Zacky to stay. He knew what he had done was horribly wrong.

But still, Zacky was so scared.

The Benefits of Being Straight

1. Girls don’t generally rape boys.

Zacky had bad luck with that. Maybe he should try and switch over. Then his dad would like him, they could move back to Washington and he could forget about Brian-

He could never forget about Brian.

And if they moved back to Washington, Samuel would be sure to hear about it. Then Zacky would be in deep, deep shit.

He did manage to fall asleep, but it was restless, and filled with nightmares. He woke up often, jerking awake and slamming his head against the slide’s wall.

It was a rough night.

And then, when it was nearly morning, he fell into a deep sleep, finally solid, restful sleep. He dreamed about Samuel and Brian, but it was a dream he couldn’t wake from no matter how many times he told himself, ‘It’s only a dream, wake up!’

Eventually, even those dreams tapered off into nothingness.

When he woke up again, the sunlight was baking the slide, and green light filtered over him. He groaned, peeling his sticky skin from the plastic and pushing his sore body down the slide.

Restful sleep? Please. He still felt utterly exhausted. It looked to be about noon, the sun was blazing high and hot in the sky. Zacky yawned, stretching his aching back, then froze.

Brian was on the swings.

Fucker, why the hell was he here? He supposed they both liked to go to the park when they were upset but why now? He looked horrible, he must have had a sleepless night, too. He was looking down, maybe Zacky could sneak away without him noticing.

He stepped backwards, but his foot crunched on the mulch, and Brian whipped his head up. They both looked at each other, and Zacky’s heart ached at the amount of pain in his eyes.

‘What? He’s guilting you, Zacky, that’s what they all do! Just walk away, ignore him.’

But he was frozen, those mocha eyes locked on his green ones. His heart wanted to run to him, to throw his arms around him and sob and kiss his beautiful, sad face.

But his mind knew better.

Brian didn’t say anything. He didn’t stand up, didn’t wave. He just kept those beautiful eyes trained on him. And Zacky backed up a few steps, before spinning on his heel and sprinting off as fast as his legs could carry him.

Now where to go?

Nowhere, Zacky was all alone. He didn’t even have his car with him; it was in the driveway at his parents’ house.

So he resorted to going to the beach. It wasn’t that long of a walk, although it seemed to take forever, his sore muscles protesting and his weak body aching for him to rest. He dropped down from the seawall, kicking off his shoes, then sat in the shallow water, soaking his clothes.

And then, Zacky began to feel numb.

He didn’t fight it; he let it wash over him like the waves. He had cried all his tears, and the nothingness that followed was welcome. He lay down in the water, not quite deep enough to cover his face, and looked up at the afternoon sky.

His stomach growled angrily, and he rested his hand on his belly.

“Shhh.” He whispered, letting his eyes slip closed.

Hey lay there for a few minutes, becoming one with the soft pull and tug of the waves. Then suddenly, the orange light of the sun blocked by closed eyelids was darkened to black as a shadow was cast over him.

“Sir?” a voice asked, “Sir, are you okay?”

He cracked an eye open to see a lifeguard standing there. The tide was coming in, and the salt water was brushing his cheeks. He sighed, sitting up, shaking the water from his hair.

“Uh, yeah-“ his voice was hoarse with tears and underuse, so he coughed and tried again, “Yes, I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t fine. Zacky had never been worse.