Untouchable (boyxboy)

Chapter 6

The good news is my dad loves the ukulele. I haven't seen him so excited about anything in months, and within a half-hour, he's got the basic chords down and is strumming along to whatever music is on TV.

The bad news is that Isaac is a decent guy. Somehow, he felt responsible for putting me within reach of a freak wave, and since he didn't have my number he called Dylan to ask if I was okay.

I hear him in his room down the hall that night, laughing loudly at something—probably my expense—and then a few minutes later he comes to my room.

I'd locked the door, but he shakes the knob and bangs on it hard enough to knock a picture off the wall.

Since Dad is already in bed, I jump up and let him in.

"Jesus, Dylan! Keep it down! What the fuck do you want?"

"What I want is for you to act like a normal human being for once in your life!" he hisses, pushing me hard in the chest so I'm forced to take a step back. He enters my room and shuts the door behind him.  "I told you to stay away from Isaac and the next thing I know you're hanging out with him, and now he's calling me to ask if you're okay? This is exactly what I'm talking about."

He clutches at his hair, staring at me with a frown.

"I don't get you," I snap. "I mean, I'm going to be spending time with Isaac anyway, and what does it matter if I'm not perfect? Isabelle's not marrying me. As long as she loves you, that's all that matters, right?"

"It matters!" he snarls, shoving me again. "Everything has to be perfect. I cannot afford to screw this up, and if you screw it up for me, I swear to God, Felix, I will not be responsible for my actions."

"Fuck you, Dylan. You don't have to be here with me and Dad, you know. You could've just stayed in Los Angeles, in your fancy apartment. Oh, wait—that's right, you got kicked out because you got caught with drugs. Now who's the screw-up, huh? I'm not the one who—"

His punches me in the gut, winding me, and I drop to the floor. He hasn't hit me like that since before he left for college, and I don't know why it takes me by surprise, but it does.

He stands over me, looking down with disdain as I cough around the pain radiating from my stomach.

When I've almost recovered, he leans down and grabs my face, forcing me to look up at him.

"You breathe a word of that to anyone, and there's a lot more where that came from. Consider this a warning, Felix. Keep your mouth shut." He pushes me roughly back to the floor and leaves.

When he's gone, I get to my feet, breathing raggedly and struggling against the tide of hate rising in my heart.

I don't want to feel like this. I thought I'd never have to feel like this again. I thought that Dylan had—

A new thought strikes me, and if Dylan hadn't already given me enough bruises, I'd kick myself for being so stupid.

This is what he's afraid of.

He's afraid I'll tell Isaac or Isabelle about our messed-up relationship; afraid that I might use words like 'abusive' or 'violent-tempered psychopath.'

And then another, much worse thought occurs.

How can I live with myself and not say something?

As far as I know, I'm the only person Dylan treats this way. But what about in a year, or five, or ten, when the novelty of marriage wears off? What if Isabelle starts to get on his nerves? What will happen when they have their first real fight?