Control

Part 1

By Dabeagle and Israfil

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“I can't help this awful energy; who is in control?' - Control by Halsey

--Jake--

“Off campus privileges?” Jon looked up from his phone, his interest piqued.

“Yeah, means you can leave school when you don’t have class,” I said as we walked towards my car.

It was one of those September days that still felt like summer. Senior year was here, and high school felt over already, until you realized you still had another nine months to get through. It was like being pregnant except the baby was…graduation? Eh, that was dumb. Jon’s humor must be rubbing off on me.

“So that’s what they call it. I thought it was just a senior thing - was thinking of heading out to get coffee fourth period if I didn’t have to finish that stupid essay,” Jon replied.

“Well, good thing - wouldn’t want to start off senior year in detention,” I said, opening my driver’s side door. Yeah, Jon had finally let me start driving us to school sometimes. I think he secretly liked being able to relax in the morning - not that he’d ever admit it. “Anyways,” I said, as he slid into the passenger seat beside me, “you have to earn them.” I passed him the form. “Thirty hours of community service.” He looked at it like I’d just handed him a piece of garbage.

“Thirty hours?” he repeated petulantly. “I guess it’s not too bad…”

“It’s about a week,” I said, as I pulled out of the spot, stopping when I saw a kid in my rearview mirror walking and texting. I glanced sideways at my boyfriend before moving again. I could see him doing the math in his head. “Five or six hours a day, it’s not that bad,” I added.

Jon groaned and leaned back against the seat before picking up the sheet again and flipping it over. “So we choose from one of these places?” he said, clearly having found the list of nonprofits.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess you could suggest something else, but those are the ones that partnered with the school,” I said, stopping at an intersection.

Jon grunted. “Neat way to get free labor.” I opened my mouth to say it wasn’t about that, but decided not to rise to it and settled for an eye roll. When he’s feeling petulant, Jon tries to annoy people - whoever happens to be nearby, which more often than not is me. Not sure he even knows he’s doing it half the time.

“Oh, here’s something,” he perked up. “The animal shelter - hanging out with dogs and cats for a bit and then going out for coffee. Sounds like a good time, right?”

It did, but something occurred to me. “You know that hanging out with animals means having to clean up after them too, right?” I asked. The light turned green. “So I’m thinking no.”

“Why? That’s just part of the deal. Didn’t think you’d have a problem with that,” he said with a smirk.

“I don't,” I replied firmly. “But you will, and then I’ll be the one doing it for both of us.” Because you’re the only animal I’m obligated to clean up after, I added in the privacy of my own head.

“Oh come on!” he whined. That wasn’t totally fair of me, but it was close enough to the truth. Jon’s not usually like that - and he’d be the first to call someone out for making their partner do their literal dirty work. But I could also see him having fun walking and playing with the dogs and “forgetting” to clean the kennels or other unpleasant tasks until someone, probably me, rolled up their sleeves and took care of it. I’d seen it often enough with his brother Richard and taking out the garbage.

“Well, we don’t have to decide right away,” I said, ending the conversation. “So you want me to drop you home, or you coming over?”

“Which one leads to pound cake? And the chance to pound some cake? Though if we’re doing that, my place is better,” he added with a suggestive grin.

I laughed before taking the turn towards my street. “Well, the pound cake is at my house. And if you want the other kind, you can suck it up and deal with my creaky bed.”

---------

After Jon got picked up by his brother a few hours later, I flopped down on my (freshly made) bed and scanned the list of volunteer opportunities. It was pretty extensive. My comments to Jon aside, walking dogs at the animal shelter didn’t sound like a bad way to work off my community service hours. The timing was flexible, I could plan around my job, and the dogs were always appreciative.

I shoved aside thoughts of feeling out what kind of dog would work for Jon and me down the line. It was way too early for that. Sure, we’d been together for about a year - more, counting our weird courting friendship - but it still felt too soon to think about living together without jinxing it. We had to get through college first before a pet could even be considered. Still, it would be nice to have an idea… Jon would probably gravitate towards a bigger dog, but if we had an apartment…

Get a grip, Thayer! At least wait until graduation before you’re planning your future together. Maybe checking out some options other than the shelter wasn’t a bad idea… There was the usual - soup kitchens, neighborhood clean-up, helping out at an assisted living facility. I paused at “Asylum and Refugee Services.”

It might not be that different from the other stuff in practice - but working with people from other countries definitely sounded more interesting than cleaning up a local church for senior citizens poker night. I typed in the web address on my phone and started to scroll. It was a national organization - a lot of the stuff students would be doing was around raising awareness and helping set up events. Stuff Jon would have called “free labor,” and he wasn’t far off, but it wasn’t because they were trying to cut costs or be lazy like he implied. These groups were just severely understaffed and needed all the help they could get.

A sidebar caught my eye - “LGBTQ+ Asylum Seekers.” I tapped it - how could I not? The group worked with people who came here because they would be killed or jailed in their home countries for being queer - helping them get official asylum status, temporary housing, even find jobs.

It wasn’t exactly part of the school program but I figured I could sell it. Volunteer work was volunteer work, right? I glanced at the list one more time in case anything else popped up, but I realized I’d already made my decision. This was the one that resonated with me, and if I’m going to give thirty hours to something, why not be meaningful?

With my childhood weight issues, being gay had never been the major issue for me, but I knew it wasn’t easy. Other than some assholes like Mullins, no one had really picked on me for it, and those guys would have bullied me for some other reason even if I’d been straight. I knew some of the guys in the group - or the family, as we called it sometimes - had a rougher time of it in the beginning, but having it go beyond bullying and be illegal, with police coming to your house to arrest you just for who you loved, was not only terrifying - it was infuriating.

There was a Jon-shaped obstacle, but I could probably bring him around. If the bed and breakfast was any indicator, he’d bitch about it and tag along and end up having fun anyways.

--Jon--

I’m beginning to suspect I’m the tiniest bit whipped. I knew getting into this relationship would have the benefit of making me a better person. I never minded who I was before, at least not enough that I’d have put in the effort to change. I can’t even say I’d been waiting for the right reason - I’d liked what I was doing, but I’m starting to get the idea I’d been too reactive to things and not really seeing much of a bigger picture.

I’d have disagreed just a year ago, given the infighting in my family and the whole ‘knives out’ feel of too many of our clan being in a confined area - like a zip code. I guess it was a little dramatic, even though there were some real issues that seemed pretty vicious. Yet it wasn’t me that confronted my family about the things they’d done to hurt me, but the guy I’d grown to love. More than I thought I was capable of. I mean…this shit was real.

I let him drive.

Jake’s not the worst driver, but I’m thinking we may need separate car insurance later, me for my speeding tickets and him for his near misses. My choices that day, with him driving, were to get some baked goods from him and get him, or only one of the two. I love his baking - I can go to bed with him and then go right to the kitchen for dessert. We don’t get nearly as much time in bed as we’d like; I can remember every time so far. We only average about one a month, more if you count oral.

That day was just blind luck. His dad wasn’t home, and it’d been a minute. It feels so good, but I like watching his face while we’re together. It’s the finer points that get to me now. Before it was all about getting in and getting off. I didn’t worry about a round two because I could find someone later. It wasn’t that hard to get laid. But now…I wanted a next time. So I had cake, then I had cake. Then I had to get picked up by my brother for a ride home like a little bitch, because I didn’t want to walk with that damn heavy bag.

Yeah. Little whipped.

Richard spent the whole car ride on a call with a customer. When I got home, I took a quick shower and re-lived getting Jake that afternoon while it was fresh in my head. I was seriously looking forward to Thanksgiving this year - I might not even leave the room. I really had to talk to Richard to make sure I got a room with an ocean view for Jake.

I wonder if Geoff ever spent a whole weekend in bed? Maybe with Damien. They’d had that kind of connection that I think Jake and I have going, or at least we’re on the way. Growing up, my parents had been kind of the gold standard of a relationship for me. Given the circumstances of how they died, afterwards they weren’t exactly couple goals anymore. By that time, settling down with anyone had been the furthest thing from my mind, but if you had pressed me on it, then Geoff and Damien would have been what I pointed to as an ideal relationship.

Not that I’d ever tell him that, unless I was really drunk. Which thanks to Jake, was becoming increasingly rare, not that I minded.

And there I am again. It really doesn’t matter what I’m thinking about, I still circle back to Jake. I mean…it’s not that deep. I’m in love. It makes me do dumb…dumber things. I flopped on my bed and pulled up the Humane Society in town to look at the puppies I might soon be playing with. I think I could get into taking the dogs out to play or for walks. I think the biggest stumbling block is that Richard would be afraid I’d try and bring a dog home, and he was right.

I’d asked my parents for a dog when I was little, in the same way a lot of little kids do at some point, but had started asking again more seriously just before they died. They had thought we wouldn’t really have time for one, but I like to think I was making progress on them - not that I’ll ever know for sure now. After they passed and everything went to hell, there definitely wasn’t enough time, and the issue had just got kind of dropped.

I dug around in my bag for the volunteer sheet and found the shelter email address. I tapped out a message on my phone, asking when the two of us could stop by for volunteer sign up.

I wonder if Jake and I will get a dog? Christ, there I go again. I wish I could say this is just a thing right now, but it’s just been getting worse. We’re seniors. We share a lot of classes, and I’m competitive enough that our grades are pretty close. The question is really…what happens in about 10 months when we’ve graduated and summer has ended and it’s time to start that whole semi-adult thing? I can’t be any worse at it than Geoff, but still.

I want an apartment with Jake. I want him there when I come home, or I want to be home and know he’s coming home to me. I want it to be ours. I want to pick on each other for pulling the covers in the middle of the night and for not turning off the bathroom light. I want to go pee in the middle of a winter night and come back to bed with him, getting warm and settled while I move him just enough to annoy him into wakefulness and then have sex. Spontaneous, hot, sweaty sex.

The thing is we haven’t really talked about that step. On the one hand, I think he’s on board with that. He might think I’m not yet, but I am. My worry is where will this all happen? He hasn’t said anything about what he might want to go to college for - or if he wants to. I mean…what if he wants to be a welder? Where would we go where he could get an education in welding and I’d be at a school close by?

I looked up welding programs, then closed the browser. Jesus. He’d never even said the word welding, and here I was thinking about how to keep me near him. It used to be he was the basket case and was always worried about if I really loved him and if I wanted him - like if I was attracted and wanted to have sex and all that good stuff. Now I’m freaking out about something nearly a year away and wondering how to ask him, without sounding needy, if we can live together someplace when it’s time to go out in the world.

Jesus Christ. Who even am I anymore? I thought about going downstairs for a drink. Richard had made some favorable comments about how much I’d cut back, and it was enough that I was starting to think Jake may have had a small point about how often I’d been drinking. It was always fun to get a little shitfaced when Geoff was home, but aside from that it was just a few here and there. But with this stress on me and feeling like I’d look so dumb to go ask Jake about this, maybe a beer was my best option for now. A message popped up on my phone; Jake was reminding me about an article we’re supposed to read and write up a response for tomorrow. I sent him a thumbs up and opened the link on my phone.

Christ. The article was about Elon Musk. I was going to need a drink to read about that asshole.

Or.

Well, I shouldn’t.

Read about Elon Musk or start sending pictures that will make my boyfriend thirsty? So whipped.

--Jake--

I had a free at third period; I used it to visit the guidance counselor. I’d met with mine a few times soon after my dad got custody, but it had been a while. She was nice enough, from what I remembered. Apparently the guidance department was the one in charge of our community service hours, so she was the one I had to talk to about any kind of change to my volunteer work.

“I’ll have to make some calls to make sure it counts towards your hours, but honestly, I don’t think there’ll be an issue,” Mrs. Ravenburn said after looking at the printouts I’d brought. “We’d just have to make sure someone at the organization signs off on a high schooler - most of the student volunteers come from local colleges, as I understand - but I can’t imagine they’d turn down another pair of hands. And then there’s your personal connection.”

I shrugged. I couldn’t deny that was a big part of it, and I wasn’t embarrassed, but it felt a bit weird to hear it from an adult, or to remember that teachers and staff noticed things. Not that it was that hard.

“Jake, it’s a good thing,” she said, misinterpreting my shrug. “Taking initiative like this by recognizing your privilege and trying to help others shows a lot of maturity. I’m proud of you.”

Now I was embarrassed. “So, is there anything I can do?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Just make sure your dad’s okay with it. He’ll need to sign a permission slip,” she said, letting me off the hook. “I’ll email you when I hear back from someone. Should be in a day or so.”

Dad wouldn’t be a problem, I figured. He might be a bit worried about going to Binghamton, but he already trusted me with a lot of things. This wouldn’t be much of a stretch. I smiled.

“Got it. Thanks, Mrs. Ravenburn.”

--Jon--

Lunch that day was with the guys, who I still mentally referred to as the Rainbow Brigade. I’d eased up on saying that over the last year, when Richard commented that I sounded like someone’s boomer uncle. Still think that comparison was kind of uncalled for.

“Look, I know we talked about the animal shelter, but when I was looking at the list, I sort of found this other thing. Maybe you could do it too…” Jake began, sliding in across from me in the cafeteria.

I raised an eyebrow and looked up from my phone. I hadn’t read the list super closely, but enough to know that nothing else on the list had jumped out at me.

“It wasn’t on the list,” Jake said, reading my expression.

“Why would you go find something else? Sounds like making extra work for yourself…” I started before the penny dropped, and I grinned. “Oh, clever…you found a loophole?”

“What? What do you mean, a loophole?” He frowned.

“Like, uh, sort of, I don’t know,” I replied, suddenly less certain. “Like a thing where we get our requirements done but don’t have to actually…do anything?” It sounded pretty douchey saying it out loud, but come on, no one says this shit out loud. Beside me, Austin sniggered.

“No! Why would you think… Okay, yeah, I know why, but no. It’s not that,” Jake shook his head and sighed. “Listen, it’s this group that helps people coming here from countries where they might be in danger for being gay. Or trans. Or queer,” he added. “Anyways, the group helps them get set up, find a place to live, get a job, sort out the legal stuff. I talked to my counselor about it, and she got it approved.”

“Dude, that sounds really cool!” exclaimed Austin.

“Okay… So what are you going to do for them?” I asked suspiciously.

“I don’t really know yet,” Jake admitted. “There’s a meeting today. Want to check it out?”

“That’s when I was planning to get the ball rolling with the ASPCA - I already signed us up,” I said, trying not to sound too accusatory. I wasn’t sure why the sudden change in plans bothered me. I guess a part of me was still looking forward to discussing what kind of dog we’d get eventually.

And it was just possible that an even smaller part of me wasn’t super keen on Jake hanging out with a bunch of new gay guys either. But that makes me sound like a jealous psycho.

“Oh, sorry. But you didn’t tell me you signed us both up,” Jake replied.

“Yeah, I was going to tell you at lunch - now,” I retorted. “Why didn’t you tell me you were planning this,” I made a vague hand gesture, “whatever it is?”

“This” - Jake copied my hand movement - “as you called it, is helping people. People like us,” he said. “And I just did!”

“You know what I mean. You’ve been thinking about it since yesterday and had to talk to your counselor and shit. Why didn’t you give me a heads up this morning?”

“I didn’t think it would move this fast. Mrs. Ravenburn said it would take like a day, but she messaged me like two hours later. Hell, I didn’t think you would move this fast. How was I supposed to know this was the one time you wouldn’t procrastinate?”

That bothered me a little more than it should have, but it was already escalating before that. “I don’t procrastinate,” I argued - yeah, that’s a total lie, but I have my pride. Which usually causes more problems than it solves.

“Bullshit!” Jake replied, calling my bluff.

I was dimly aware of Austin, Derek and the others looking back and forth between us like a tennis match. “So when do you think they’ll start ripping each other’s clothes off?” Austin stage-whispered to Derek.

“I’ll try and find a bucket of cold water,” Derek replied. I ignored that, but he wasn’t completely wrong. Jake did somehow look even more attractive when he was maybe not annoyed, but impassioned. Flushed cheeks and assertiveness was hot.

But it reminded me we had an audience, and I wasn’t arguing for any good reason, so the embarrassment didn’t help my mood. “It’s whatever,” I said, looking back down at my lunch and ripping open my potato chips. “Just feels like you hung me out to dry, is all.”

“How did I…?” Jake shook his head. “Jon, what’s the...”

“It’s fine, Jake.” It wasn’t, but I wasn’t going to say any more until I had a better reason than my being a jealous psycho.

--Jake--

The meeting was at a church in Binghamton. As I pulled up in front of it, I definitely felt a little weird. Weren’t most of the people this was helping fleeing laws based on hardcore Christianity? Was this some kind of evangelical thing?

I’d already come this far - it would be stupid to not at least check it out. I got out of the car and walked up the front steps. Cautiously pushing open the door, I saw a discreet sign pinned to the bulletin board by the entry way - LGBTQ Asylum Services, downstairs, music room.

Music room? Really? That seemed a bit on the nose. I gave a mental shrug and started looking for the stairs.

“Hi there. Can I help you?” A voice brought me up short, and I turned around to see a man coming out of a side door. He was on the taller side, dark skinned, with a short beard. A plain green t-shirt showed off his arms, I couldn’t help noticing.

“Uh, yeah, I’m here for the refugee volunteer meeting?” I asked, suddenly feeling uncertain now that I was here and realizing how little I actually knew about any of this. “I was looking for the music room…”

The man smiled and seemed to relax slightly as he walked forward. “Looks like I was just in time then,” he said, raising a piece of paper. Reaching the bulletin board, he took a spare thumbtack and placed it over the bottom of the old sign where it said music room, instead with a new location - meeting room B.

“A new space opened up suddenly, and we felt meeting the music was a bit stereotypical,” he explained a little sheepishly. I laughed.

“I was literally just thinking that but wasn’t going to say anything,” I admitted. He chuckled and extended a hand.

“I’m Kareem,” he said. “The volunteer coordinator.” Closer up, I realized he was pretty young - maybe around his mid-twenties. I took his hand and shook it.

“Jake Thayer.”

“Oh, nice. I got a call about you. The high school kid - thought it was you but didn’t want to assume. Welcome - follow me.” He released my hand and turned back the way he came. Though he wasn’t wearing skinny jeans exactly, they definitely hugged his figure in all the right places. Stealing glances at Kareem’s ass while I followed him to the meeting room, my mind drifted back to when Jon came over a couple days ago.

Which unfortunately also brought it back to our weird argument today at school. Lunch had passed in an awkward limbo. Our friends kind of tried to fill the gap, but when someone at the table is clearly in a mood, it sort of weighs down the atmosphere. And Jon’s mood could be a goddamn thundercloud. I honestly wasn’t sure what was eating him.

They say sex isn’t a cure-all in a relationship, but getting some alone time again soon couldn’t hurt, right? I forced my mind back to the present when I felt myself getting turned on - walking into a meeting with a hard-on was not the way I wanted to make an impression.

“Hey, guys, this is Jake,” I heard Kareem say as he opened the door. I stepped into the meeting room to see five other people of different ages. Some were around my age or Kareem’s, with a few older folk, including a short lady with blond hair streaked with gray. She strode over to us and took my arm gently as we shook hands.

“Hi, Jake. I’m Ramona, the church pastor. So good to have you here.” She exuded a warm, relaxed energy and was dressed in a sensible sweater.

“It’s…good to be here,” I responded. Stupidly, I thought she seemed too nice to be a pastor, but that didn’t make any sense. She just seemed so genuine. I got a serious “good vibe” off her, and I don’t take to people that easily. Is this what they call charisma? Jon had it - when he wanted to - and Robin from school absolutely did.

She quickly introduced the rest of the people in the room, giving names I knew I was going to have to ask again. They didn’t look like church people either - one guy had a pierced eyebrow and a girl had a streak of teal through her hair.

“We have snacks at the table,” she went on, pointing to a box of cookies and soda water. “You can sit here next to Helen,” guiding me to the seat beside a black woman in business casual. Helen gave me a warm smile and took her bag off the seat next to her.

“Alright, that’s probably everyone,” said Kareem as Ramona took her own seat. “First off, I want to thank you all for being here. I have some great news. Thanks to fundraising efforts, which includes some of you here today, and the state grant from last year, we have been able to purchase the Hill street property, meaning at least six more shelter rooms!” He hadn’t even finished the sentence before the group had started cheering - Helen pumped her fist beside me. I clapped too. It definitely sounded like a big deal. “And as everyone knows, we’re going to need every one of those,” Kareem went on. “Every year brings more people, and we’ve been especially stretched thin over the last few years. So our first priority for the next couple months will be getting the building ready. We’ll need a tight turn around on this so we can be ready to place folks there as soon as possible.”

“What needs to be done?” Helen asked, taking out a pen and paper from her bag.

“Mainly just getting the building ready for habitation,” Kareem replied. “It's been empty for a while, so it’ll need a thorough cleaning. It’s a townhouse, so some of the rooms need to be converted into bedrooms, too.”

“Where are we on cleaning supplies? Furnishings?” Helen asked.

“We have some,” Ramona joined in, “but it’s never enough at the best of times, and for a project like this we’re going to need a lot more. For cleaning, I’m hoping if we all bring our own, plus what we have here, we might be alright. Furnishings will have to be through a donation drive - things like mattresses and bed frames are a must, naturally, but also things to make the rooms feel, well, homey, would be great.” Helen jotted down notes.

“How many people do you think we’ll need?” someone else asked. “And when do we start?”

“Literally as many as we can get,” said Kareem. “The more we got working on it, the better. There’s already a few people coming from SUNY Albany, and we’re hoping to start work before the end of the month. Fingers crossed, in the next week or so.”

“What about your contact at the mattress place, Ramona?” asked the girl with teal hair.

“I’ve reached out to Roy - he’ll try to get us a reduced rate but couldn’t make any promises,” Ramona said with a sigh.

They all sounded like they knew what they were doing - it was hard to not feel like the kid just waiting to be told what to do. Not that I had a problem with it, since that’s technically what I was - but I wanted to contribute something more than just a pair of arms. They needed solutions, and I wanted to help find them.

“So for volunteers, we may have some help from a local kid - he’s doing his Eagle Scout project-” Kareem was cut off as Helen scoffed.

“Boy Scouts, Kareem? You know this really isn’t their thing.”

“Eagle Scout, Helen,” Kareem corrected her, not seeming put off at all by the attitude. “And things have changed with them. Anyways, it’s not the troop. Eagle Scouts pick individual community service projects and organize it themselves. He thinks he can get the Scoutmaster and Troop Committee on board. If he comes through, that will definitely take care of some volunteer numbers.”

Hearing this got me thinking even harder about what I could do. It’s possible I was feeling the smallest bit competitive - which was stupid - not with the guy himself but the idea that another kid about my age might be taking a lead role. It shouldn't matter, I told myself, as long as the project gets done and helps people - that’s what’s important. Who does what doesn’t matter. But it did, a bit. Maybe Jon was rubbing off on me - one-upping people was definitely an Ellesier thing, I suspected.

What skills or resources could I offer? My first thought was baking, but what would that do? A bake sale probably wouldn’t raise the cash they needed, and I wouldn’t have time to make enough food, and there was no guarantee people would buy them. Sure, Jon and the family loved them, but your friends and boyfriend are always going to be a little biased.

What about manpower? A lot of the guys seemed willing to get their hands dirty, since they helped with Derek’s bed and breakfast set up, and this was a lot like that. But would they come to Binghamton? Would they have time? And did I have enough pull yet in the group to even ask?

But if the answer was yes to those questions - I knew that townhouse would be done up in no time.

--Jon--

“Wait, you’re not coming back tomorrow?” I asked, interrupting Geoff mid-sentence. It was Thursday midday, and I was already done with school for the day. Unfortunately I still had classes.

“No, but I’ll be there Saturday morning,” Geoff replied. Claiming it was quicker than texting, he called to talk about plans for Labor Day weekend, which was odd because we had a plan for Labor Day weekend - or I thought we did. The background noise of in-between classes on both ends of the connection made an irritating white noise, forcing us to both raise our voices slightly.

“Why not Friday? You won’t be here till like 11 or 12 on Saturday,” I argued. It was a two and a half to three hour drive from Albany to Sanitaria Springs. And I couldn’t see Geoff getting out the door before 8 - not that I could either, but that’s how I knew he couldn’t.

“I’m taking Micah back-to-school shopping,” Geoff explained.

“Why are you…? School’s already started! Didn’t he do that already? With his damn parents?” I asked. Coming Saturday instead of Friday wasn’t a huge deal, especially on a long weekend but it was one more night to stay up late. I’d been excited to chill out that evening with a proper weekend kick off. Maybe even more than I’d like to admit. And he was postponing because of shopping for a friend’s kid?

“Getting him some new threads,” Geoff explained. “Sasha and Alec’s style is…meh. Plus they shop at all the wrong places anyways,” he added. “Kid needs all the help he can get.”

“Honestly, that sounds like their problem,” I said. “Can you come after that?”

“Pinter, it’s one night. What’s so special about Friday anyways? It’s not like we’d specifically planned it,” he said. He wasn’t wrong; I had just kind of assumed, but that didn’t help my mood. “Heck, I figured you would have made plans with the boyfriend,” he added.

“I - nothing. Not really. It’s whatever.” I had been about to explain I thought we’d stream the UFC fight happening that night. It’d be on pay-per-view the next day, but watching it live to start the long weekend would have been cool. I wasn’t going to say that though. I already sounded way too needy with my little outburst then asking if he could come after shopping.

“I’ll be there Saturday morning. First thing.” Geoff actually sounded apologetic - something in my tone may have tipped him off that I wasn’t happy, I thought bitterly. “I got to get to class now, but we’ll talk later, okay?”

“Sure. Later.”

“Jon-” I hung up - cutting him off, walking towards my class and putting my phone away. Then took it out a second later and made another call. It rang a couple times before -

“Hey, babe - it’s Jon,” I heard him add to someone.

“Kind of figured - not many people you call ‘babe’,” said a voice in the background that I couldn’t place. Derek maybe?

“Jake! What you up to tomorrow?” I said.

“Not much. Why? I thought you had plans with Geoff?”

“He’s actually coming Saturday. Said he has to - never mind.” I cut myself off before I could start bitching. The disappointment was keener than it should have been, and I hated it. “Anyways, I thought we could…?” I stopped outside my classroom and leaned against the wall.

“Wow - standing in for Geoff. That’s a tough act to follow.” Yeah, I probably should have realized how that sounded.

I rolled my eyes. “Jake, I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it. He didn’t cancel - there were some crossed wires. I don’t fucking know.” I was pissed off, and on top of that, I was pissed off that I was pissed. Pissed off squared. I took a breath to rein it in.

For a moment there were just the sounds of the hallway, and the line was quiet. Classmates filed past me in ones and twos. “Jon? Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” I assured him.

“Well, I think I could squeeze you in,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I grinned. I’d made the decision to put our argument yesterday behind us, and from what I’d seen this morning, so had he, but this was a nice confirmation. But his words gave me an idea.

“Oh yeah?” A couple more kids sauntered past me into the classroom. I dropped my voice slightly. “Maybe it could be the other way around. I’d squeeze you in.”

“What do you…?” He chuckled. “Wait, are you talking about-”

“Am I what?” I grinned, even though I knew he couldn’t see it. He’d hear it in my voice though. “You’ll have to be more specific, babe.”

“I -Jon, I’m in public! I can’t say…that here, if that’s what you mean,” he mumbled before trailing off in embarrassed laughter. This was gold.

“What’s going on? Wait, is he dirty talking to you? Here?” Derek’s voice came through faintly.

“No! I mean, maybe?” Jake replied. “So, my place or yours?” he asked me. It’s good to be in control of the situation again.

“Well, it turns out that -” I began before I heard him swear.

My heart sank. “What?” One more kid went by - running.

“I just remembered I have a thing Friday. The volunteer thing for community service-”

“Again? Didn’t you go yesterday?”

“I know. I was going to tell you. I’m sorry. It’s like a - I’ll tell you after school. Class is starting. Love you.”

The call ended, and I stared at my phone in confusion. Was I missing something here?

Naturally, I was the last one into class. I ignored the stares. I think the teacher made a comment, but I just brushed that off too. The rest of the day wasn’t much better. Occasionally I’d manage to focus on something else, but my mind kept drifting back towards the clock, waiting for after school when I could talk to Jake and sort this out. Whatever “this” was.

Jesus fucking Christ, I really am whipped if that one interaction with Jake was bothering me that much. Then it just started to snowball from there into a bunch of other worries. Is this too much? Am I weird? Like too attached? Are we on different wavelengths? Was he having second thoughts?

No, Jon, you know he loves you. You don’t have to worry about that, I reminded myself. It’s you. You’re being neurotic and clingy. If anything, you’re the problem. You have to fucking chill. At this point, you might say something crazy, and then he really will be having second thoughts, and I wouldn’t blame him.

If I was being honest, the thing with Geoff wasn’t helping either. Obviously we don’t hang out as much since he went to college, but that should make the times when we do that much more important, right? Definitely more important than back to school shopping with Micah, of all people.

No, I wasn’t jealous of Micah. I don’t need Geoff to go clothes shopping with me anymore. We haven’t done that for years. But I sure as fuck should be a higher priority than some charity case.

That was another thing. Geoff didn’t do charity cases. Did he still think this could be a way to get into Alec’s pants? I wouldn’t put it past him. That made a little more sense, but didn’t make me feel much better. Try to seduce his married friend or fuck every guy on campus, I didn’t give a damn, but I didn’t think he’d put that before our plans.

I guess it doesn’t say anything good about the way my family does things that I started wondering if this was on purpose. Had I canceled plans with him recently? Maybe to do something with Jake or one of the guys? I didn't think so, but had I, and he was trying to make me jealous?

Wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. He was a petty fuck. To be honest, so was I, but I like to think that’s only when someone deserves it.

Back to back cancellations and/or rejections by two of the most important people in my life wasn’t fun. Still didn’t excuse this bullshit spiraling I was doing. What was wrong with me?

Last bell couldn’t come soon enough. Jake was standing by his car on his phone when he looked up and saw me and smiled. I was surprised that I was relieved, then started to feel pretty stupid. Then a little angry - but mainly stupid - that one person could flip my emotions like this so easily and not even know it.

Despite this all going through my head, I couldn’t help but smile back, already feeling more relaxed as I walked towards him.

Sliding into the passenger seat beside him, I gave him a quick kiss. At least it was meant to be - it definitely went on a few seconds longer than he expected.

“Wow,” he said with a slightly bemused smile after we separated. “Hello to you too.”

“Hey,” I replied, staring at him for a second with a stupid smile. Then I remembered that I still had questions.

“So what’s this about-” I started at the same time he said “I’m sorry about-” and we paused awkwardly.

“Sorry. I forgot that I’m going to Binghamton tomorrow,” Jake said. “We’re fixing up some townhouses.”

“So soon?” I frowned. The meeting had just been yesterday.

“Yeah. It was kind of last minute. We’re trying to get the rooms ready as soon as possible. And the timing worked out for a big volunteer group, so we want to take advantage of that,” he explained.

“Well, if they have a lot of people already…” I slowly ran my hand up his arm to his shoulder. “Think maybe you could give this one a miss?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, leaning into my touch. “It won’t look good to skip out on work after I got special permission to be there. Plus, I’ll just feel shitty, y’know?”

“Call in sick?” I suggested. He opened his mouth, but I kept going. “It’s just that I got the place to myself tomorrow. Richard’s going out for the first time in fucking forever. Geoff isn’t coming back till Saturday. It’ll just be you…and me.” I leaned in on the last part, beginning to whisper in his ear. “We can be as loud as we like.” I felt him shiver and grinned.

Then he gently pushed me away.

“Seriously, you need to back up before I start doing things I can’t do in a school fucking parking lot,” he stated firmly.

“True. That’s for tomorrow,” I licked my lips seductively. His hand on my chest was definitely doing some things to me at all points of contact - from his palm to all five fingers

He sighed. “You’re killing me, babe. But…” It was clear he was struggling with himself. I put a hand on his thigh and squeezed. “I really think I should go.”

Wait, what just happened?

In books they say that someone’s eyes can tell you all you need to know. Jake’s eyes were definitely a big part in telling me his mind was made up, but it was also the set of his lips, the way his hand shifted on my chest - a bunch of small things that made it clear I wasn’t going to change his mind.

I sighed and gave his thigh one more squeeze before taking my hand away. “Fine,” I said, and made to get out of the car.

“Jon-”

“I said it’s fine,” I repeated, for the second time in as many days, opening the door and grabbing my backpack. For once I was so glad I’d driven to school that day.

“At least let me drop you at your car.”

“I’m good, thanks,” I answered without looking at him and felt his hand on my arm.

“Jon. Why are you being like this?” I stopped and turned back to him. Did he not get it? I shifted back into the seat.

“So…to be clear,” I said slowly, “you’re passing up an opportunity to fuck your boyfriend to do community service?” I knew even as I spoke I was being incredibly petulant, but the rejection just felt so personal. “To hang out with a bunch of other gay guys. Again.”

I held eye contact with him for a moment. Obviously, there are more important things than sex. Crazy, I know. But this just seemed so, for lack of a better word, trivial. Who would question one volunteer calling in sick? Or give him that much crap about it if they needed people so badly?

The irony wasn’t completely lost on me, seeing as I was giving him a metric ton of crap, and I needed him very badly. Shit, I may legitimately be insane right now.

Jake’s eyes widened. “Are you for real, right now?” Yeah, that last part may not have been needed, but I knew it would piss him off. Partially because it’s technically true, my darker self whispered. “I thought you were over this shit,” he continued, shaking his head in confusion.

“I’m sorry, how exactly am I supposed to feel?”

“You’re supposed to trust me!”

“It’s not you I don’t trust -”

“Then why don’t you just come with me?” he almost shouted. Honestly, kind of a fair question. I bit my lip in thought for a second. Problem is, those kinds of things would almost always be filled with the type of people I don’t get along with. But shouldn’t I be able to do that? For Jake?

I guess I was quiet for a second too long. “See? It’s not like I don’t want to spend time with you, Jon. But it always has to be on your terms. I know control is your thing, but for fuck’s sake, you don’t want to give up one Friday evening for something that’s actually pretty important to me.”

“Dude, you just found out about this like, two days ago,” I replied incredulously. Not the greatest response, I admit.

“So fucking what?” This time he was shouting. “I told you, I want to help people. People like us.”

“Are they though?” I said before I could stop myself. Definitely not helping myself with that, but it wasn’t untrue. Superficially, sure, and it sucked what they were going through, but they were still… Not us.

Jake scowled, and for the first time he actually looked disappointed in me. No, more than that - almost disgusted. Like he wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

“Do you even give a shit about queer people? Hell, other people?” he asked. “People who you aren’t related to or fucking?”

You know those times when you’re sort of watching yourself from the outside? Aware of what you’re doing and why it’s not a good idea but just have to let it unfold like a movie? Well, that’s the only way to explain what I said next.

“Yeah, it’s called caring about the people who matter,” I snarled, before getting out and slamming the car door behind me.

--Jake--

I drove home in a slightly violent haze. Definitely cut a few people off and was surprised to find my fist on the horn once or twice. Jon gives me shit sometimes about being an aggressive driver - and I say nice view from that glass house - but today I was definitely proving him right. Which honestly just made me angrier at my spoiled brat of a boyfriend.

Who the fuck did he think he was? I indulged his control issues, but he had to know that at the end of the day I would do what I wanted. Didn’t help that I thought we were past his stupid jealousy issues.

I stomped on the brakes as the yellow light I’d been speeding for turned red, coming to a stop on the crosswalk. I needed to get myself under control.

More than angry, I was shocked. I knew he kept his personal circle tight, but hadn’t really seen that side of him before. It had always been more in terms of how much he loved his family than how much he didn’t care about people outside it.

It’s called caring about the people who matter. Sure, he joked like that sometimes, but in stupid ways - like who would be left behind in a zombie apocalypse or get pushed off the lifeboat first if we were on a sinking ship. I’d never seen that attitude directed at real people in a real situation.

Somehow I made it home without getting into an accident or running someone over. Kicking off my shoes, I realized I was still too pissed off to focus on homework, so I stomped over to my safe space - the kitchen - and began flinging open cupboards.

Baking has always been something of a stress reliever for me. It’s like a way to focus on something by following the instructions but still lets your mind wander a little bit and process things. In the early days of dating Jon, I had a few all-night baking sessions. Now he helped my dad clear out the results of my stress baking. Don’t get me wrong, I loved baked goods, but it’s definitely more the act of baking than the end product.

I settled for a tres leches cake - three milk cake. Kind of a new recipe for me - I wanted to stretch myself slightly. The guys had loved it. Maybe I’d take it to Binghamton tomorrow. Maybe to celebrate the start of the work? Would probably need to pick up some paper plates on the way.

I considered calling Derek or Austin. But they’d had a lot of my drama - not that they wouldn’t be hearing about it tomorrow. Especially if Jon and I hadn’t made up by then. As angry as I was, it wasn’t out of the question. We’d had some blowouts before and usually talked it out.

But that was over stupid stuff. This felt… different. The fact that he still didn’t fully trust me, however he tried to spin it, really hurt. Didn’t the idiot know by now that I chose him?

He had warmed up to the family after a while - he was even hanging out with Robin a bit before he left for college. Was it going to be like this every time we met a new gay guy or tried to join the queer community?

That wasn’t a pleasant thought. The last year or so had taught me that I enjoyed having queer friends. It just felt…right for me. There was a level of being able to let your guard down. Wherever I ended up, I knew I’d want something like I had here in Sanitaria Springs.

If Jon’s attitude didn’t change, that wasn’t going to be easy.

Would he eventually see the benefits of having a support system? I had hoped so. If you asked him, he’d say his family, but that came with a boatload of other issues. And there was me. But you couldn’t get by on like three people, right?

Then there was the value of having that support coming from…people like us. I’d used that phrase a few times already. It had the right amount of vagueness to include as many or as few people as you like. People like us could mean whatever you wanted.

Are they though? Jon's words reverberated in my head. Yes, for fuck’s sake, I wished I’d shouted at him.

After the things I’d heard yesterday at the meeting, talking to Kareem, and looking up some of their stories on the news, Jon not wanting to even consider how easily that could have been us if we were born in almost any other country but the U.S. was like nails on a chalkboard to me.

Safe to say, my mind had been spinning full tilt. I’d had to restart my baking twice. Cooking is an art; baking is a science. Screw up a baking recipe and it’s a disaster, not like cooking. The third attempt had me more focused and less angry, unless I stopped to think about Jon; that got me pissed again pretty fast.

The door opened, and I looked over my shoulder, just confirming my dad was getting home. He looked at the counter and put on a rueful smile as he hung his coat and sat to take his boots off.

“So. I know a dad isn’t supposed to ask his son about boy trouble, but…what did Jon do?”

I wiped some excess into the sink and turned to lean against the counter. “It is him, but it could be me.”

He pushed his lips together and tilted his head from side to side. “Yeah. It’s possible. Right now I think it’s probably him.”

I sighed and crossed my arms. “I feel like I’ve come a long way in the last year.”

He lifted his boots by the backs and set them by the door, then turned to face me from the chair. “I’d agree with you. When you were allowed to think for yourself, you made a lot of progress.” I looked at him with mild confusion, and he clarified, “You know, once we got you off the meds your mom was drugging you with.”

I shook my head and waved a hand at him. “Right, yeah.” I sighed. “I was just talking to Derek the other day, and he said something…it made me think of a conversation you and I had last year. You asked why I was so loyal to Jon.”

Dad nodded. “I remember. I thought it was a good answer at the time.” He hesitated. “What’s changed?”

I pursed my lips for a moment. “When did you know things were going bad with Mom?”

“Oh. Talk about your easy topics,” he said with a chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, Jake, I’m not what you’d call the most aware person. I don’t have a point where I looked up and said ‘Wow, this relationship is fucked.’ I know some folks can look back and pick a spot, but I can’t.” He looked at me steadily. “Are you feeling like….?”

I sighed and shook my head. “I’ve just been turning some things over in my head, and Jon’s pissed at me, but I’m pissed at him, too.” I met my dad’s gaze. “I made some mistakes early on. I was pretty insecure. About the only thing I really was convinced of was how much I love Jon. I was looking past the things he does or says and seeing the quality underneath, but….”

“Ah. Not so sure about all the stuff you were looking past?”

I bit my lip and looked to one side. “Kind of.” Looking back at him, I said, “I’m trying to be fair. I know I’m not perfect, and I’m not asking him to be. But he has…control issues.”

“No shit,” my dad deadpanned and chuckled at my expression. “Look, Jake…his brother was in his early twenties when he started parenting a kid who’d just lost his parents. From the little bit I’ve picked up, Jon was also the prototypical baby of the family and got spoiled in ways his brothers, maybe, weren’t.” Dad shrugged. “He’s used to getting his way, a bit, and to trying to control things even if there is no earthly way to do that.”

I narrowed my eyes in thought. “But besides being angry about not getting his way….”

Dad chuckled again. “Look, Jake, I’m no psychologist or what have you. But people…Jon probably needs to feel in control, because things went so far off the rails for him. He knows how chaotic things are in the world and tries to control what he can, hide his fear when he can’t - and that hiding doesn't necessarily mean he cowers. He might get angry instead. Anger…it’s one of those emotions that don’t need much in the way of forethought or examination until after it burns out and you see what’s left.”

I crossed my arms again. “So if I thought that was Jon…does that justify things, then?”

“Oh, hell no,” Dad said with a smile. “It’s just how he’s learned to view the world. Look, for anyone to change, they have to have a reason to change - and they have to realize it themselves. If Jon were to put two and two together, for instance, and think that his attitude would drive you away, he’d either have to decide to try to change or to be resigned that ‘this is who I am, so fuck it’ and let you go. I mean if it were that extreme.”

I slumped a little. Jon had given ‘fuck it’ as a response one too many times.

“Jake, this is all just talk. I’m not inside his head, but you may be too close to it to really see things for what they are. Jon was raised by someone who was still a kid when he took on that role. Hell, your own parents didn’t do you many favors. My advice to you is always to talk, and take deep breaths when you do. I will say one thing for Jon…I can see he cares about you. I can see him feeling like if he makes a mistake with you, then he’s really screwed up, and it would devastate something at his core. So sure, bake. Talk. But don’t let what’s eating him consume you.”

--Jon--

Homework was just not happening when I got back. Throwing my bag down by the door, I stormed into the kitchen, wrenching open the cupboards looking for a snack. I took out a granola bar and eviscerated the wrapping, stalking around the kitchen taking angry bites.

Just who did he think he was?!

A small part of me tried to say that I had sounded like a spoiled prick, but it didn’t stand a chance in the face of my anger. Do you even care about queer people you aren’t related to or fucking? That pissed me off something fierce. It wasn’t just other gay people though. Isn’t that what pretty much everyone does? Stick with the people you care about? Friends, family, boyfriends, girlfriends, whatever? Yeah, I was a bit of a dick about it, but what I said wasn’t exactly wrong.

Anyway, I totally cared about queer people! I cared before I even was one. In Boston I once punched a dude for calling a theatre kid a fag. Don’t know if he was really gay or not, but that still counts as standing up to homophobes for someone I wasn’t related to, fucking, or didn’t even know!

I could hear Jake in my head already commenting on how punching things is my favorite solution, which pissed me off even more. Though that could also be something Richard would say, to be fair.

I stared at the fridge for a second. A drink sounded great right now, but it was still too early in the day. I got standards.

You know what? Punching something sounded fucking cathartic right now. I strode upstairs and grabbed my gym bag, tossing in a t-shirt and shorts and putting on my sneakers. Returning to the kitchen, I snatched my car keys from the counter, shot out a text to Richard that I was going to the gym, then hopped in the car.

The sound when your fists connect with the bag that lets you know you hit it in just the right way is one of the most satisfying things I can imagine. I hammered it with my usual combo before throwing out a solid roundhouse.

I’d been working on incorporating some Muay Thai into my routine lately. Tae Kwon Do is all about fast strikes to small areas - the power comes from speed. Muay Thai is about heavy hitting, like instead of just hitting someone with your foot, you slam them with your whole leg. The sting after slamming my shin into the bag felt good in a weird, masochistic way.

People seem to think you have to pick one or the other. I like both, but it’s tough to balance the two different approaches - though the challenge was part of the appeal. In a weird way it’s almost like how they react when you like both guys and girls, I reflected. There’s that attitude that you have to choose eventually and until then you’re just weighing your options and wasting time before you commit one way or the other.

A punch followed by a right hook swung the bag further out to the left; I timed my knee strike as it swung back.

I took a few classes when I first started learning Muay Thai, and everyone kept saying I’d have to unlearn a lot of stuff. I was like, can’t I just learn the new stuff and keep what I got? Definitely got some weird looks there.

People have a kind of similar reaction when I say I’m bi, if I feel like giving them a straight answer - heh, straight. There’s this reaction of “Oh, you’re still saying that?” even though I’ve been dating Jake for a year. Being in love with my boyfriend doesn’t mean I’m any less bisexual.

Jake’s friends were honestly pretty good about that - or they tried - but I still got that vibe from them too, even though they knew the score. There was a sense that I wasn’t good enough for their friend or that I might be stringing him along. Made me worry about what they might be telling him when I wasn’t around. But it’s not like I could just always be there.

Fuck, there I was sounding like a jealous psycho again - the bag got an extra hard punch with that realization. They had enough ammunition; I didn’t want to give them any more by being super clingy.

I wasn’t blind - I knew they weren’t crazy about my hogging Jake to myself, though I’d been trying to walk the line between just us and joining him with his friends, and letting him have his own time with them without my being the background. Kind of sucked since Robin left for college - we’d developed sort of a rapport. He’d helped me out in the early days with Jake, and we’d hung out a bit. Plus I offered to help him kill his boyfriend’s sister - as a joke, obviously. But I only make murder jokes with people I actually like.

But even then, was I really being fair to them? Hamster was supposed to be bi. Nate, too. They were dating guys, so is it really them or me? Is it really a combination, or is my thumb on the scale?

Jeez, if someone was reading my thoughts in like a novel or something I’d definitely be labeled a ticking time bomb. Like one of those psych thrillers that Greg liked.

Greg…Maybe that was someone I could call. Richard was busy, and I was pissed at Geoff. I kicked the bag as my brother’s name came up. Robin was a possibility too, but I wasn’t sure we were at the stage where I could call him up and ask if I was being a crazy boyfriend.

Mainly because I was afraid he'd say yes. In that situation you want someone who’s squarely on your side.

I did a few more combos before taking a break. I took out my phone and opened Instagram. Greg was online, so I snapped a quick mirror selfie, captioned it “Working out some frustration. What's up?”, and sent it to him.

I flopped down on the mat and focused on my breathing for a moment before my phone pinged. Huh, that was quick.

“Looking good. Got to stay buff to fight off those other guys looking at Jake, huh?”

“Ouch, too real,” I typed back. “How’d you know?”

“Aside from you being a possessive asshole?” Followed by a wink emoticon.

“Do u have a sec to talk?” I wrote. For a moment there was just the ellipsis that shows when someone is typing, and I was about to tell him it was all good when my phone started ringing.

So yeah, this - this is why he was my best friend for so many years. He just kind of picks up what I’m worried about.

“Yo, what’s up?” I asked.

“Uh, you having a crisis, apparently,” he replied.

“How do you know it’s a crisis?” I asked.

“Besides you practically begging me to call? You’re the absolute worst at keeping in touch. So when you want to talk? Shit must be on fire.”

“It’s not on fire…yet. Maybe smoking?” I said cautiously. I decided not to argue about me not keeping in touch; that was a guilty place to go.

“What did you do?” he gave an exaggerated sigh.

“Why do you think I did something? Why is it always my fault?” I argued.

“Dude, you’re an Ellesier. Odds are you did something. Maybe not. Prove me wrong then. What happened?”

It wasn’t easy to explain that. “Umm, how do you know if you’re being controlling?” I asked.

“Huh. Well, if your last name is ‘Ellesier’, that’s probably a good start.”

I frowned. “If you’re just going to bust my-”

“Jon, shut the fuck up, okay? You know I love you, bro, and part of that is I’m not going to lie to you. Right? Can you think of a single time I lied?”

“Nice tone,” I grumbled.

“I’m just pointing out why you called me and why I still call you my best friend,” he said and then his voice dropped lower, “who ignores me.”

I sighed, frustration building again. “I know, I know! I am a shit friend.” I sighed. “I just….”

Greg sighed. “Okay, look, I’m sorry, bro. That’s a whole different conversation, except it’s really not.”

“Greg…make some sense, bro.”

“It’s what I’m saying. Jon, your biggest issue is you’re always pissed off. It’s like you’re convinced you’re not good enough, so you get mad and fight everything. Trust me, when you stepped in to fight on my side I was like…I don’t want to piss him off!” Greg chuckled, and I couldn’t help smiling a little.

“You just got into too much trouble in Middle,” I said, not really sure what to say.

“Truth,” he replied. “But back to my point. You do all these things to make sure no one can kick your ass - but you know what, bro? No one is trying.”

I sighed, trying not to get frustrated with him and proving his point for him. “What does this have to do with my relationship?”

He laughed. “Just everything,” he said, his humor trailing off. “Bro. Jake loves you.”

“I know-”

“No, I don’t think you do,” he cut me off.

“How the fuck-”

“Bro.”

“Will you let me finish?”

“Only if you let me finish first,” he countered.

“Why are you being an asshole?”

“I’m not. I’m trying to talk to you, and you’re getting mad.”

I paused, feeling that anger pushing on my brain and…damn it! “One second.” I pulled the phone away and closed my eyes, taking a couple deep breaths. It wasn’t making much difference, but I did call him. I obviously needed an answer, because I didn’t have any. “Okay,” I said. “Finish.”

“You sure?”

“Getting more pissed by the second, Greg.”

“Bro.”

I hung my head. “Sorry.”

I heard him walking, his breath coming through the speaker. “I love you too, bro. I know how mad you are. It’s scary sometimes. More than once I thought you’d start beating my face in. People here…you never seemed to connect. You just had to kind of dominate the room. Like every guy had to know their place.”

I kept my mouth shut. It was true, though I didn’t really think that was a bad thing. People followed the strong. It was quicker to show that with a fist than a speech, in my opinion.

“Didn’t hear you complaining,” I grumbled. He sighed.

“Okay, well, I mean I was just as bad. I was standing next to the guy no one wanted to mess with.” He paused. “But bro, answer me this honestly - are you mad right now at Jake or you? Who are you taking that out on?”

I pushed a hard breath through my nostrils and stood up. “Who says I’m mad?”

“Bro.”

I slammed my open hand against the padded wall. “What…what do I do?”

“Can you answer the question?”

I rolled my body, putting my back to the wall. “I feel like a little bitch,” I confessed, my voice lowering.

“Okay. Why?”

I pushed my tongue against my teeth. I hated this. “Nevermind.”

“Jon. Your choice, but you asked, dude.”

I gritted my teeth. Why was this so hard? Anger welled up inside me. “Geoff was supposed to be home so we could chill some. Haven’t seen him for a while, but instead he’s going to spend money on some little orphan douche. And Jake is doing this refugee thing when I told him he could be-” I stopped, feeling angry and embarrassed I was about to tell Greg I was going to let Jake fuck me.

“In bed with you? Bro, I know you guys have been dating. It’s not much of a stretch to think you’re dicking each other.”

I clenched my teeth and closed my eyes. “Yeah. I know,” I said tightly.

“Look, bro,” Greg said, “You’re stressed. I’m sorry if what I’m saying isn’t making this any better. But let me say one thing before you get royally pissed and drive out here to fight me, okay?”

I stayed silent.

“Jon. Tell me it’s okay to say or to fuck off. Give me something.”

I cleared my throat. “Say it.”

“I love you, bro. You’re not perfect. Jake makes you better. Your family, at least your brothers, love you in their own fucked-up ways. But…you need to be confident in that. I always knew you had my back, partly because you were so…enraged at the world, but also I believed I was your friend. If you were fighting, I was fighting, even though I wasn’t on your level. Geoff is Geoff, and he’s doing whatever he does from his own fucked-in-the-head reasons. But whatever Jake’s doing, man, isn’t because he doesn't love you. Like the real you, under that rage. Bro…why are you even so mad all the time?”

I pressed my thumb and forefinger to the bridge of my nose, not having an answer for that. “So…how do I fix it?”

It sounded to me like Greg sniffed. “That part of you that trusts him, have confidence in it.”

My anger subsided a bit, swirling with confusion and maybe some regret. “When’s your spring break?”

“Uh, let me look at the calendar,” he said. His voice was a little farther away, and I figured he was looking at his phone while he spoke. “Looks like April 18th.”

“What day is that?”

“Uh, Wednesday.”

“Okay. Can you come that weekend? Stay for the week?”

He paused. “You serious?”

Pleasure flushed through me at his tone. “Bro.”

He let out a chuckle. “Bro. I’ll be there.”

I ended the call and leaned my head back against the wall. Confidence I can fake. Confidence in that part that trusts Jake? I mean, yeah. I trust Jake. But Jake trusts more easily than he should. Still. I turned over what Greg had said and realized he’d told me I was a controlling asshole in the nicest way possible. I hated being controlled, and Jake? I started to wonder how wrong I might be, and how mad Jake was going to be.

--Jake--

Jon found me eating lunch outside in the courtyard the next day. There’s a cute little outdoor area right next to the cafeteria - picnic tables, gravel paths, a couple trees. I was trying to enjoy it while the weather held out. Or at least without my own personal stormcloud.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. Obviously you can do what you like, and I get it’s important to you. I do trust you with other people, and it was fucked up of me to bring it up again.”

Jesus. No hello or even sitting down, just launching in, I thought. I looked up at him. “It’s not just that. That you brought it up at all means you still think it.”

Jon shifted his eyes like he was going to roll them and caught himself, but just. “But I trust you-”

I cut him off. “It doesn’t feel like it. Are we going to have this fight every time I want to do something new? Something that involves other queer people or just something you don’t like or just don’t get?” I almost hated that I knew him so well. This was more about making peace than admitting he was wrong. That and he was standing over me in a power move to make me look up at him.

“Jake, it’s not like that.” His tone was placating, which honestly kind of annoyed me more.

“Then what is it? Huh?” I crossed my arms, challenging him to do some actual thinking, explaining or maybe show a shred of empathy.

Jon sat down next to me on the bench and put his hand on my thigh. “Jake, babe. I said that shit because I was pissed, okay? I just…really wanted you with me tonight, and I was ticked that I was so torn up about it, and I guess I wanted to tick you off too. It was dumb, okay?”

“No argument there.” I considered it something that he’d admitted to being angry so he wanted to make me angry. It wasn’t good, but it was something. Enough for me to let him keep his hand on my thigh. I almost heard Derek in the back of my head talking about the way I make excuses for Jon and give him passes I shouldn’t, even though Derek hadn’t used those words.

“Look, I’m sorry I was an ass yesterday. If you feel you have to do this thing, I get it.”

The tone. So dismissive. He was so casually uncaring, but worse, his tone was giving vibes like royalty saying it was okay to go play with the commoners.

“Gee, thanks. I’m so glad I have your permission,” I said, trying not to reach out and slap the smug off him. “But why was tonight so important? Yeah, empty house is cool and all, but it’ll happen again. We’ve both cancelled on each other - life happens. You didn’t throw a tantrum then.” I kicked myself for even giving him an opening to make the case that he had something to be upset about enough to make me miserable.

His jaw firmed, and then he held a finger up. “One, not a tantrum. Two, yeah, for like important shit like, oh fuck, wait -”

Nope, fuck this. “Oh for fuck’s sake.” I couldn’t help a sigh as I stood to leave; he can be so exhausting.

“Jake, wait. I didn’t mean it like that -” He stood to match me; don’t let the enemy have you at a disadvantage!

“No. I’m done. I can’t talk about this anymore. You still just don’t fucking get it.” I turned to walk away before I really crashed out.

“Please -” Jon grabbed my upper arm and tried to move in front of me.

I yanked my arm away. “No! Just fucking let go.”

“Not till you hear me out.” He moved more fully in front of me, still holding my arm. I was starting to feel trapped and growing wildly angry.

“Which part, Jon? The part where you don’t trust me? The part where your brother flaked and I was supposed to fill in? The part where something important to me doesn’t matter because it’s not important to you? That people don’t matter unless they’re in your little constipated circle? Which part do you want me to hear - again - Jon?”

His nostrils flared, and his eyes grew wide. “YOU matter. That should be enough. You want to help people? Great. You want me to admit I was a dick yesterday? Fine. What more do you want from me?”

I yanked my arm free. “How about you take any of the things I just said and take them seriou- you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m going, I don’t need your permission, and I think I’m done with lunch, because I think…you know, I think you don’t want to get it, but maybe you’re incapable of getting it.” I moved to walk past him, but he moved to block me and reached for my arm again.

“Hey, wait -”

Derek appeared suddenly, not that I could have paid attention to anything besides Jon and his idiocy. Of course the last thing I think I wanted was for Jon to be flying all his red flags at once, in front of Derek no less. “I think you should take a step back,” Derek said, his tone firm but pitched low.

Jon jerked in surprise, maybe having been too focused on being a jackass, and his voice actually cracked as he said, “Jesus tap dancing Christ, where did you come from?!”

Derek kept his voice down, but his tone was as serious as death. “You guys aren’t exactly being quiet.” He looked around us, and I think we both followed his gaze, noticing that others had definitely noticed us.

Of course that was the same thing as telling Jon he had a little dick - a challenge in his eyes, and he wasn’t one to back down, especially when he was busy being unreasonable to start with. “Yeah? What the fuck are you all looking at?” he snarled to the courtyard in general. Some looked away, but far more continued to look at the train wreck we were being.

Somebody said, “Gay Days of Our Lives, I guess?”

I swore under my breath, and Jon snatched up a stone from the gravel and hucked it at the dumbass before I could stop him. The kid ducked, but Jon was already running towards his table. His intended victim tried to stand up but tripped backward over the picnic table seat, knocking his tupperware off the table and scattering rice everywhere. He landed with his back on the ground and his legs over the bench, groaning.

Seeing this, Jon slowed to a trot and smirked. He stalked over to where the underclassman was picking himself up and stood over him. “Sorry about your lunch,” he said, looking not sorry in the least. “Let me help you with that.”

Fuck, I knew that look. I started towards them, Derek right behind me. Before we could get there, Jon took what looked like some sort of sauce container from the table and upended it over the kid’s head. It was chunky, catching in his hair and waterfalling over his face as he clawed at his eyes. I couldn’t meet Derek’s gaze, but I could almost feel it drilling a hole in the side of my head.

My boyfriend, ladies and gentlemen.

-----

I sank into the chair with my coffee, Derek settling in across from me. It was after school, and after that shitshow at lunch I needed another cup of coffee before I headed to Binghamton. I hadn’t wanted to talk about it right after, but Derek had been nice enough to come with me to Starbucks.

“How you doing?” he asked.

“Well, is that vein still throbbing in my temple?” I asked.

Derek made a show of looking me over. “Not as much, but there’s still some steam coming out your ears.” We both chuckled. “So today was…a thing.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, it was kind of a scene.”

“Kind of feel like that’s been happening a lot lately.” Derek paused, clearly trying to gauge my reaction.

“Not quite like this. For a bit,” I replied, but I knew I was splitting hairs and stared at my coffee. He wasn’t exactly wrong. While Jon and I could get on each other’s nerves, two fights in two days was unusual. The more I thought about it, the more I’d found myself getting annoyed with his…attitude, I guess? Like some of his faults I’d looked past were getting worse.

Derek must have misinterpreted my silence, because he started backpedaling. “Hey, I’m not saying like-”

“No, no, you’re good. And right,” I interrupted. “I was just thinking about it. I wasn’t going to bring it up, just because you and Austin have had to hold my hand through every baby step I take with Jon - or drag him with me.”

Derek laughed. “Eh. I could tell you all about paying it forward and being there for a friend, but you know all that. Not gonna lie, when you guys get into a stand-off like that, I’m half expecting you to just start making out like those couples on TV.” I chuckled at that - seeing as that had actually happened once or twice. “But this was…it felt different.”

“Short answer? I think my boyfriend is a spoiled brat.”

“You’re just finding that out now?” Derek commented dryly, eyebrows raised. “Jake, buddy, he’s also kind of a bully.”

“That guy was -” I shut my mouth before I could start defending Jon’s actions. Derek’s eyebrows, impossibly, seemed to go even higher. No, that kid did not deserve that for being a smartass. “Long answer,” I said, pretending I wasn’t in the habit of defending my occasionally psycho boyfriend, “kind of ties into yesterday.” I sighed. “The project I joined? Helping people who are coming here for asylum? I know it’s still early but I feel like it could become really important to me. I keep thinking if I’d been so unlucky to be born somewhere else, I could be them. I mean…what if I’d been born in Alabama? Not a lot of difference between that and one of the ‘stans where being gay is illegal.”

“And I think that’s awesome, Jake. Why would it be a problem? For him.”

I sighed and set my cup aside. “For Jon and how his family is, thinking outside of his circle of family - like having empathy and doing something for someone outside of that - isn’t something that comes naturally. He’s kind of tribal, like politics is now. So his attitude is that if it’s not his - or our - problem, he walks away. Even going to the ASPCA is more about getting to play with puppies than it is doing something to help.”

Pausing to take a sip of my coffee, I flipped my phone face up to see if I’d missed a text. Too much to hope that Jon was writing to say he knew he was out of line. Again. “And that’s fine, usually. Just…sometimes it really bothers me how he can just brush off people that aren’t in his little circle.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how to do anything about that.”

“I mean, normally I’d ask, are you sure you have to do anything about it?” Derek asked. “I get that’s not, like, ideal, but you don’t have to agree with your partner on everything. Within reason,” he added. “It’s good to like things outside your relationship. Austin puts up with me talking about whatever I’m doing, and I listen when he talks about a book I’ll never read. There’s always some give and take. But…” he hesitated again, “that doesn’t seem to be the problem here.”

I instinctively sucked in a breath between my teeth. I had a good idea where he was going with this, but Derek just waited.

“I mean, he didn’t say I couldn’t go - he knows better than that,” I said after a moment. Derek smiled at this. “But he just couldn’t understand why I wanted to go or why it mattered to me.” I had calmed down a bit since then, but I could feel myself getting worked up again as I relived the argument.

Derek leaned forward. “Let’s be honest. In a lot of ways, Jon is more full of red flags than a Chinese Communist Party parade. He waves one of those flags, and you slowly take it away from him - with respect to you.”

I thought for a moment. “Yeah, I think I see your point. He’s still not…accepting other people that much.”

Derek leaned back. “Yeah, he doesn’t hide it all that well. I mean at first he was just a little condescending. I figured he was just some arrogant guy because he has money. Not entirely, since he likes physical fighting too, so he wanted to be a jerk and back it up, and he thought that made him a man.”

I stared at Derek. “I didn’t think you disliked him that much.”

“That was just looking at him interacting with us at first. I mean…we tried. Everyone tried to be nice to him, to welcome him, because he was dating our friend.”

“You guys didn’t know me that well when Jon and I started to date.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Friend. Means more than stranger. Until you proved us wrong, we were going to be your friends.” Derek waved a hand. “But then you fell so hard for Jon, and he just kept being aloof and I figured…well, you know. I thought he’d break your heart and you were just going to let him.” Derek shrugged. “So when you guys actually started to date - openly - I was pretty surprised.”

I tilted my head. “You were supportive, though. I mean, you seemed happy for me.”

“Oh, I was! Clearly you knew something about Jon I didn’t, just because of how things went. But…that doesn’t mean I was entirely wrong.” He smiled, but there was no humor in it. “I get the feeling he kind of…tolerates us. Your friends.”

I jerked my head back a little. “Well, no. I think that….” I thought of the times I’d said the guys were doing something and how Jon would drag his feet. Slowly, feeling guilty, I said, “I think he just likes to keep things him and I.”

“I get that,” Derek agreed. “There are times that the only thing I really need in the world is to hold Austin, or to scroll on my phone while he’s nearby with his book. I can almost hold that comfort in my hands, so I get that.” He licked his lips. “But not all the time. I love my friends. I love my life with my friends.”

“Exactly!” I interrupted. “The last couple years have taught me that…well, I like having a community. Not even that, just like, a strong group of friends like I have here, but I feel like that might be tough with Jon. He’s fit in pretty well here, but anywhere else…”

“Ehh…Kinda?” Derek looked uncertain. “Maybe it’s just what I see…but I don’t think Jon likes us much either.”

That idea hit me in the gut. “But…why?”

Derek shrugged. “I don’t know, my guy. If I’m being nice, it’s just that he’s most comfortable with a tiny circle and he wants you in it and we don’t qualify.” He put a hand up. “Hey, that’s cool. I don’t need to be everyone’s friend, and I don’t want to force it on anyone. But…you could also see it as an isolating thing, where you see your friends less…almost like slowly cutting them all off.”

“But that’s not happening!” I said, laughing a bit.

“Not that I know of,” he conceded. “Just seems like he’s never really happy around us. I still see very little of the guy you say he is. I see you guys fighting at lunch and that shit he pulled after, and it seems like he just has to be in charge, has to be in control.” He leaned forward. “Does he?”

I was flustered for a moment. “Yes, in a way. I know he has some control issues, and I push back. I do what I want, and sometimes he has to deal with that. Sometimes we fight about it.”

Derek smiled. “That’s good. I mean not that you fight, even though sometimes you sorta have to.”

I frowned. “Do you and Austin fight?”

“Not much, really. I don’t think we’ve had a huge fight, but then neither of us feels the need to be in control of the other, so.” There was definitely something pointed in that last sentence.

That really didn’t sound like Jon and I. Thinking back to what my dad said, but also realizing I was sounding like I was defending him - okay I was - I added, “It’s not exactly all his fault. I mean, it doesn’t justify it,” I added quickly, “but when his parents died it messed him up, and he…he had a hard time…after that.” On our first trip together, Jon had told me how he had been institutionalized a couple years after. The fact his brothers had not gotten him serious help sooner still ticked me off - but that wasn’t my story to tell.

“Well, yeah, that sucks but-”

“My point is, because everything got so fucked up for him, so out of control, he tries to exert it wherever else he can,” I said. “Look, I know it sounds like I’m making super vague excuses, but I have to protect his privacy too, you know? Shit got bad and it left scars - I know I’m kind of biased here but trust me on this, okay?”

“Fine, he’s got trauma and that’s horrible. But Jake, he’s making his trauma your problem. You shouldn’t have to carry his baggage.”

“I don’t think of it like that,” I said quietly, feeling like he was judging me even though he likely wasn’t. “But if your partner has something in their life, it does become your problem a bit. Not only that…after he told me, I said I’d carry this with him.”

“Within reason though. My dad once said, "You can’t set yourself on fire to keep someone else warm.”

“I see what you’re saying - I do.” I hesitated. “Do you think this is…becoming a problem? I mean from the outside looking in?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah, of course.” Though Derek’s hesitancy had me worried about what I might hear.

“Today at lunch it didn’t exactly look great.”

“Yeah, I know it was over the top with that kid but-”

“Not that. Yeah, that didn’t help, but I mean when he grabbed you.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth. “I know it sounds kind of minor, but like, everything about it, body language, tone, the whole vibe felt off.” When I didn’t say anything, he went on. “And what you told me just now it’s like he kind of feels entitled to you - to your time, attention, energy. Does that make sense?”

The way he said it made something click in my head. “He offered to bottom if I’d call in sick and stay with him instead,” I said. It sounded out of the blue, but Derek nodded before I could try and explain.

“That’s…honestly exactly what I’m talking about. Okay, so first he’s desperate for you - your time. Maybe not for your dick, but…”

“If he wanted to spend time with me, he could have offered to come too, but that just never occurred to him until I said it.”

“What did he say when you did?”

That brought me up short, since I hadn’t exactly given him a chance to respond. “Not much really. I kind of took his not saying anything as a sign he didn’t want to. It kind of escalated from there.”

Derek paused like something had just occurred to him. “Okay, wait, like…is it a big deal for him to bottom?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Kind of. He’s only done it a couple times. I mean I’m not pushing, but….”

Derek scratched his head. “Okay. So Jon’s keeping things bottled up, maybe? Red flag. Immature if he thinks you shouldn't do something because he wants your time - like wanting you to prove something by choosing him? Insecure - and a red flag. Using sex to manipulate you?” Derek paused and looked at me.

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it out and out manipulation,” I hedged. “At least, not deliberately. He’s not dumb enough to try that shit with me,” though even as I said it, the words sounded hollow. “He probably sees it more as offering something for…” I stopped when I realized I was just arguing semantics. Derek raised an eyebrow. “Red flag?” I asked, grimacing.

“Deliberate or not, it comes to the same thing in the end, and that’s not healthy,” he said, before giving a sigh. “Buddy, if I were you…you need to talk to this boy. I only say that because I know how much you love him, and I think he does love you…but some of this shit is toxic, and if you don’t do something to work on it, it’ll only get worse.”