a r c h e r *
When my brother's best friend, Easton, walks in the infirmary and sees me, his mouth drops. I'm a senior, Easton is a freshman in college. I got hurt at school earlier, and instead of the office calling my brother or my parents, I asked them to call him.
"How did you manage to do this?" he asks me, shoving his keys in his front jeans pocket.
"Technically, I didn't do anything. I got shoved down the front steps and then I got punched." I state...somewhat sassily.
"By who? I'll tell Jack and we'll kill them!"
"It's okay." I should have expected him to have the same reaction my parents or brother would've had, him and Jack, my brother, have always been protective over me when it comes to getting hurt, so I should have known this was coming.
"It's not. I'm going to go sign you out, and then we're gonna walk out to my car and on our way back to my apartment where I'm going to clean you up, you're going to tell me exactly what happened. Understand?"
I nod and sigh, holding out my hand. "Before you go to the front desk, please help, I can't get down." He grabs ahold of my hand and pulls me off the table and we walk to the front desk together. He smiles at the receptionist, remembering her from last year, signs me out on the chart and then jerks my arm, pulling me out of the office, the building, and onto the parking lot.
Once we're in Easton's car, he turns to me.
"Now, tell me what happened." He says sternly.
"It's really nothing, Easton. I promise." I say. Because although it really is something, I know Jack and Easton really will go after him, and I don't want Easton or Jack to get in trouble.
He cups my face. My stomach lurches and I wince softly. "I'm not stupid, Archie. This isn't 'nothing.' You've got a bruise under your eye, there are scratches all over you...this isn't nothing, Arch, and I'm not stupid enough to believe you."
"It was Dan Garcia,"
"And he did this...why?"
"I-I don't know." A lie. I know exactly why he does it, but I'm not prepared to tell Easton this information.
"I don't believe you," he says; a fair statement as I am lying about it.
"I don't know why he does it," I say, admitting a little bit of the story.
"Does? This a recurring incident?"
I nod and he falls silent. "Ok...we'll talk about it later," he says and the conversation's over, his face hardens and he looks forward, backing out of the parking spot and driving out of the parking lot toward his apartment.
When we've got to his apartment, Easton makes me sit down on his couch while he goes to get bandaids, Neosporin, q-tips, and alcohol. When he comes back into the living room, he kneels in front of me, starting with the gash on my stomach and wipes it down with alcohol. I wince.
"It hurt?" he asks me gently, looking up at me.
I nod.
"I know. Hang in there."
When he finishes with the gash on my stomach, he looks at me.
"I need you to put your foot on my knee," he tells me, grabbing my leg and putting it on his knee. I'm scared of the alcohol on my knee because I know it's going to hurt; it did.
"I'm sorry, Arch," he says in a low voice. "I'm almost done,"
I don't say anything, fearing if I do that I might scream out in pain, so I just nod, trying to avoid eye contact. He takes my chin in his hand and turns my face to his, and dropping his hand once I'm looking at him.
"Now," he says. "We're going to talk about this." He gestures to my injuries and looks at me.
"Easton, it's really nothing, I swear--" I begin, but he cuts me off.
"Archie, like I said earlier, I'm not stupid enough to believe that." He says, staring at me fiercely.
"I just--I don't want you to think differently of me when I tell you--if I tell you why it happens."
"Oh, you're gonna tell me, and why would I think differently of you?" he asks me, moving his hand to settle over top of one of mine. Before I reply, he goes to move my shirt down as it was still rolled up a little from when he disinfected it, but the edge of my bruise from a few days ago catches his eye. He pulls my shirt up more and sees the entire bruise. He looks up at me, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly ajar.
"You cannot tell me that this is 'nothing', Archer," Easton says, staring me in the face, a stern expression on his face. "Now, tell me everything,"
"I--I can't, Easton," I finally say.
"Why, Archie, why?"
"Because you'll hate me!"
"Why would I hate you?!"
"Because I'm gay!" I blurt. His mouth drops, and I hasten to brush away the tear that rolls down my cheek. I get off the couch, pushing past him and going down the hallway. Before I can lock myself in his bathroom, however, Easton catches up to me and walks me back to the living room.
He's silent for a moment, then he opens his mouth to speak. "Why would you think that I would hate you because you're gay?" he asks me, looking me directly in the eye.
"I don't know," I say a few seconds later with a shrug. "He does..."
"Is that what this is about?"
I nod, not wanting to fight anymore.
"Since when? Who knows? How did anyone even find out?" he asks me, and I can hear the worried tone in his voice.
"They've been doing this since the beginning of the school year..." I say, trying to look away from him after he cuts me off, but he grabs my chin.
"Archie, that's almost six months!" he says, releasing my chin.
"I know," I say, looking down.
"Hey, look at me," he says softly, grabbing my chin once more and lifting it to meet his gaze.
"You need to say something when things like this are happening, okay? No one can help you if you don't say anything, Arch,"
I close my mouth tightly to avoid letting out a sob; tears burn the back of my eyes, but I can't turn my head to hide them because he's still holding my chin.
"How did they find out?" he asks me softly. "Who knows?"
"Just Dan..." I whisper, almost-silently.
"And no one has stopped him, or said anything?"
"No, they're all too scared to say something, and even if they weren't, I doubt they would! I mean, come on Easton, I'm a loser!"
"Hey, you are not a loser!" he reprimands me. "How did he find out?"
"I was trying to text Jack and tell him because I felt like I was ready to tell him, and Dan walked up behind me, we were standing in the courtyard area, and he saw the text over my shoulder and tried to take my phone from me, and then he hit me and called me a name that rhymes with bag..."
"Oh, Archie..." Easton says softly. "Why didn't you tell your parents? Or the school?"
"I don't know...I was scared, Easton,"
"You could've come to me, Arch,"
I shrug.
"Please don't ever be scared to come and talk to me, okay? I'm here for you, alright? I love you, Archie," he says softly. Once again, he holds my chin, looking into my (tear-filled) eyes. "I love you," he whispers yet again before he leans in and presses his lips to mine. I freeze, surprised, shocked, and unsure of what to do. I mean, I've liked Easton since I was twelve-years-old, but I never thought I'd be able to kiss him. He pulls back slowly and looks at me. I meet his eyes, trying to say something, but nothing comes out So, I do the thing that I need to do: I lean forward and bury my face in his shoulder, finally allowing my sobs to come out. He wraps his arms around me, no hesitation whatsoever, and holds me against him, rubbing my back.
"Ssh, it's okay," he whispers in my ear. "It's okay, I'm right here, breathe in and out, just breathe, and let it out, let it out,"
I'm honestly not sure how long we stayed like that; it could've been minutes, hours, maybe even days, I don't know, but when I pull back from his shoulder, he looks me in the eyes, wiping my stray tears with his thumbs.
"I know," he whispers, leaning his head against mine.
"Know what?" I ask confusedly.
"I know that you like me, Archie," he says, cupping my face. "But that's not why I kissed you, I kissed you because I like you too,"
He presses his lips against mine again, and this time, I kiss him back softly but allow him the control of the kiss. When we break apart, he looks at me once more.
"I love you," I whisper softly.
"I love you too, Arch," he replies, a smile spreading across his features.
"I don't want to go home," I say after a short--or maybe it was long--period of silence.
"You don't have to," Easton says, looking over at me and pulling me into his arms so my head rests on his shoulder. "It's Thursday, yeah, but just stay here, I'll text Jack and your parents that you're with me and you're okay, we don't have to tell them yet if you don't want to."
"I want to tell them about us," I say softly, lifting my head to look at him.
"Are you sure? If we tell them about us, we have to tell them everything else, too," he says, stroking my cheeks.
I take a deep breath. "I know...I think...I think it's time,"
"How about I invite them for dinner? And then we can tell them that way, instead of over text, does that sound okay?"
I nod.
"I'll text Jack and he can tell your parents."
I nod again. Easton texts Jack, who texts my parents, that there was a little incident at school today, I'm safe and with him, and that we all need to talk and they should come over to his apartment this evening. Jack, of course, and my parents agree to come over, but ask questions.
