gay one shots | ✔️

shot four: gentle remorse; part one

Conner's POV

"I can't do this anymore, Conner! My parents know now. They know... you know what this means right?!" Miles shouted. His eyes were red, his cheeks wet with tears. I inhaled a deep shuddery breath.

"Miles, please..." I begged, my cheeks equally, and possibly even more soaked than his, as he finally turned the doorknob. "Please. We'll keep it a secret. Your parents don't have to know. You can tell them that we're not dating anymore, that you're dating Nancy or something. Please... anything. Just don't leave..."

He let the doorknob snap back into position as he pulled up his shirt to show me bruises and scars, and I winced as his eyes grew vicious and he approached me.

"First of all, don't you think this is enough? My parents to do this to me. This is what we've caused me. This is what my parents do to me because of us."

That couldn't have been fair, but I fell for it anyway. I could practically feel my heart shatter as it dropped. I could feel my face flush, and my tears flow heavily down my cheeks. I let out a stuttering breath and choked as he approached me.

"And two, Nancy is your fucking sister. Don't you think it would be weird if I was suddenly coming over to your house again, genius!?"

I flinched. "I-I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Sorry doesn't cover it, Conner," Miles spit. "We're over," he whispered. "I love you, Conner, I really do, but I can't do this anymore," he said flinging the door open and closing it harshly behind him.

"I love you, too," I whispered—almost inaudibly as I heard his footsteps race downstairs and out of the front door, which he closed behind him, leaving the empty house even more desolate. I curled into a ball on the ground, and pulled back my sleeve, pressing fingers into my aching scars. I couldn't help the onslaught of tears as I cringed away from the door.

I crawled into my bathroom and turned the shower on. As the water poured over me, I stood in silence before reaching for the razor again. My left wrist looked fairly untouched, unlike most of my other limbs. The pain felt good, almost welcome now.

One for being an asshole.
One for being a bad boyfriend.
One for causing Miles so much pain.
One for being a stupid, disgusting, shameful brat.
One for that time my parents called me a faggot and I knew they were right.
And one just for causing everyone pain.

It had been the first time he'd said he loved me, and I'd never gotten the chance to say it back.

***

I woke up from my fitful sleep to the sound of someone rapping at my door. I'd gotten dressed and gone to bed after drafting and scrapping a billion apology letters to Miles.

I got up and unlocked my door to see Nancy. She hugged me, and closed the door behind us, locking it.

"You know," she whispered into my ear, "you can always tell me anything. Anything you want."

"He... he told you," I murmured, drawing away from her and looking at her in the eyes. She shrugged.

"He didn't have to. The way he stormed out made every bit of sense to me," she smiled sympathetically, her hand coming up to touch my cheek.

I looked down. "It's my fault."

She raised an eyebrow. "I don't know."

"How would you know anyway?" I muttered angrily.

"I-I heard everything," she grimaced, but then her sombre smile spiced her lips again. She tugged on my hand, coming out of my room and pulling me into hers.

She pointed to the bed. "Sit."

I did as my older sister said—for once—and she looked at me for a few moments, then nodded, pulling out black nail polish and tying her hair back in a ponytail. She sat with me, painting my nails as she listened to what had happened, and I ignored the fact that she'd heard everything.

She nodded, humming affirmatively every once in a while. I told her about how I never got to tell him I loved him, how we'd had versions of this argument before, how he'd never abandoned me before, how it was always my fault because my parents didn't physically abuse me because of my sexuality.

She rubbed the back of my neck and my shoulders when she hugged me, but it only reminded me of when he'd looped his arms around my neck. She kissed my cheek as she hugged me, but it only reminded me of his kisses. She rubbed my back while we sustained our hug, but it only reminded me of his gentle hands, and how they used to caress me, draw circles across my chest and back.

It only reminded me of when he used to crash at mine in fear of what was awaiting him at home, or when he used to look at me like I was worth more than anything in the world, and of when he used to kiss me, softly, slowly, his lips gently pressing against mine. I shuddered at the thought of when our "make-out sessions" used to escalate too quickly, and I would find myself below him on the bed, my hands in his hair.

It reminded me of him. The shirt he forgot to pack was still sitting in my room, and I was willing to bet it still smelled like him. I bit my lip as fresh tears flowed down my cheeks. Thank fucking God that our parents wouldn't be home until tomorrow night.

"Nancy..." I whispered, my voice too sore. "I need him. I need him."

I buried my face in her shoulder as her arms found themselves around me again. She stroked my hair, and kissed my head, whispering "I know... I know..."

***

"I swear to god, I will hurt him. I will hurt anyone who ever does this to you," she snarled as she gently bandaged my wrists.

"Nancy!"

"SORRY! Sorry..." she frowned. "Right. You love him. I'm sorry."

"Yeah," I spat, but looked at her with love and admiration anyways.

She kissed my cheek, and ruffled my hair, saying "talk to me later," and walking out smiling at me. I gave her back a smile and then waited for her to close my door to touch my cheek where she'd kissed me.

Miles had kissed me there too. I touched my jaw where miles had also kissed me, then my neck, and my chest, and my stomach, but I didn't go down any farther. I shuddered. Just thinking about his kisses and his gentle brown eyes made me miss him. I had to get him off of me. His presence, his memories, his kisses, him.

I took another shower, but it didn't help. I still missed him.

I want him, and I need him.