𝔍𝔞𝔯𝔞'𝔰 𝔏𝔬𝔤𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨

#6

I don't know who we'll become
I can't promise it's not written in the stars
But I believe that when it's done
We're gonna see that it was better
That we grew up together

- Ben Platt, "Grow as We Go" 🎵

*

Fudge, he's seen it all!

I don't think Dad will be particularly pleased knowing I now so graciously shared the beauty marks his belt engraved into my skin last night. What's worse, I'm half naked in a room with another man. I can already feel sweltering tears shoot from my ducts and I'm sobbing in less than sixty seconds.

"Jara, talk." Ashish doesn't request me. His voice may be characteristically tranquil and deep, but his eyes are abundantly livid. "Who did this to you?"

Dad, I want to crack open before him; but the words that rumble out are a complete indication of my stupidity. "I got into a fight."

Ashish turns to the door and fiddles with the key, rotating it clockwise twice. He pries the knob to ensure that the door is securely locked, then he hones in on my bleeding form. He lumbers sternly towards the bed, squatting so his face is vertically opposite mine. "You are going to tell me who did this to you and you are going to tell me the uncensored truth. Do you understand?"

I feel an objection rising in my insides, gnawing at me to release it. But all I do is mewl. "Please, don't make me do this." My tears are literally pouring from the floodgates of my eyes.

"Is Tiller behind this? Because so help me Lord Vishnu, I will cut off his penis and feed it to him." I'm about to laugh at his words, but the steely facial expression he shoots me makes me rethink that.

"It isn't him," I tell him.

He smears a whiff of the ointment between his index and forefinger, applying it onto my horribly marked skin. I flinch as the pain tears through the bleeding areas. Every touch reminds me of Dad's lashes and the memory of that, more than the pain, evinces more shuddering cries from me. I'm only loud enough for Ashish to hear me.

"Jara, do I need to threaten you before you give me a name?"

"You'd never do that."

"That's an angle you certainly don't want to explore. I can get very ugly."

His words dispel any further defiance from me and I sink into silence.

He repeats the process on my chest, my shoulders and the area right above my slight paunch. "You really need to sign up for a fitness programme. You look like a hot air balloon."

I peer into his eyes and then return my glance to the wall. "I'm sorry I'm not as hot as you are," I murmur internally.

"You know, I can let you touch me," he offers. My eyes pop. Did he hear me?

He notices my astonishment and tenderly places his finger on my jaw, suspending my face to meet his. "Who freaking touched you?"

Something so sultry in his voice causes me to speak up, my mind screeching for companionship. "Dad did."

Ashish is fuming. "He did what?" His finger is still to my jaw. "Why?"

"I came home late in Tremaine's car."

"So?"

"Dad thought Trey and I were gay partners and he got cheesed off. The next thing I knew was I was on the floor and he..." I shatter into mindless crying.

Ashish unhooks my jaw, climbing atop the bed. He grapples my body in an airtight hug and I cry with unrestrained liberty. I bury my head in his perfectly sculpted chest, which is currently still clothed. "I'm so sorry," he breathes into my hair.

"No, I'm sorry I'm ruining your pricy top," I wail. "I'm just not very stable right now and I could use a friend."

Ashish lowers his mouth to my ear, whispering soothingly. "You don't have a friend. You have a brother."

Those words are damn comforting.

†

It's almost eight or nine weeks since I started school at Voltaire High. I adapt, with much difficulty, into the system of class timings and lengthy homework and group projects with the most infuriating people I've ever had to work with — and I'm the nice guy. Anyway, other than that, I also get awfully attached to Reese and she's almost like the sibling I never had.

And then, there's Ashish.

In the weeks following that Saturday when I utterly flooded out to him, he and I become involved in each other. I don't mean that sexually. I learn quite the barrage of things about him, one of which is he isn't a virgin. He says he's been screwing since he was twelve, and I wonder if he shouldn't be singled out as a prodigy of nature. Beside that, we text and call every other day. We don't have a lot of classes together, so we pretty much don't get to see each other at school. And with the football season returning, he's engrossed in supervising so many tryouts and that sort of stuff that I don't want to be a bother.

Which leaves out Asha.

I don't talk to her much; I don't like how hateful she's become. She's now frequently accusing me of stealing her brother from her. I respond by reminding her that he has a girlfriend who he pays a healthy amount of attention to. Asha still stresses her standpoint and I frankly don't care about her anymore.

But then, there's that other guy: Tremaine.

Other than the fact that he's a player, he also shares multiple moments with me; in one of which I discover he's bisexual. We've been texting and I discover he isn't out yet. I feel like I should be endangered by that kind of info, but I'm actually thrilled to know I'm not the only one with sexualities to come to terms with.

It's lunchtime and I'm with Reese. Asha's with the "mean girls", a group of absolute twits who think through their boobs and are presumably the whores of Voltaire High. They happen to form the cheerleading team, so I'm assuming they'll be throwing themselves at all the players, including Ashish and Tremaine.

Oh God, please save my friends.

"Look at her go!" Reese goads me as I see one of them slurping that unsanitary tongue of hers all over Tremaine's face. I'm distant enough to be unseen by him, but the concave glasses I'm wearing only magnify everything.

"They keep going that way and I might really retch all over the floor," I mumble. Her hand is on the verge of sliding to his shaft—which, by the way, I've seen up close and personal; and it is huge—when Tremaine grips it.

"Someone please tell him this ain't OnlyFans," Reese hums.

"I don't know, OnlyFans is pretty dirty," I comment, much to her amazement.

"Oh my gosh, our cute Catholic boy's now gone rotten." She's nearly screaming.

I look away from Tremaine as he disentangles himself from that girl and walks away. "Says the girl whose father is an evangelical minister."

Reese laughs. I join in the moment.

My phone buzzes and I pick it up. My face lights up in a smile.

"Ooh, did you just get a sext?" Reese props her chair to mine as I stand up.

"Silly, it's Trey. He wants me in his locker room."

He wants me in his locker room, I repeat mentally, baffled by my own words. I walk towards the place.

"Just don't let him give you the d!" I pay her no attention as I head out.

In the locker room, I see no one. I simply loiter around, waiting. Then, the door opens, shuts and bolts. I turn and my temperature skyrockets.

Lake Tiller is standing there with keys in his hands.

"We meet again, faggot."

†

I'm so sorry the chapter was this long. Anyway, what do you think about Jara's relationships? And do you think Trey set Jara up?

Please vote and comment!