Control

Part 2

By Dabeagle and Israfil

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“Oh my brother, you don't have to follow in your bloodline; from where you came isn't who you are.” Bloodline by Alex Warren

--Geoff--

I’m not a complete asshole. I am a member of the ‘asshole’ species, but I think I could successfully argue that being human is, at least in part, being an asshole. There are times and people that sometimes make me take a mental step back and try to see how big of an asshole I’m being, how much of that I’m comfortable with, which nearly always makes me a little miserable.

I love my family. Yes, my version of love is damaged, probably of questionable value, but it’s what I have. I can’t honestly say I used to be more oblivious, but I can say I’m less likely to allow myself to continue being oblivious than I used to be. Case in point: I talked to Jon, and he was obviously upset I wasn’t coming home when he’d expected me to.

To be honest, it gave me some complex things to think about. First I was kind of touched. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but I’d figured as he grew up, we’d just naturally grow apart. I’m aware how damaged I am, so he wasn’t going to want to deal all the time. Instead…he missed me. He wasn’t saying it, because we try to act like we’re not the ‘feelings’ sort of people, so instead we show it by brushing things off. By being angry or insulting; anything but being real.

It was probably the single biggest reason I’m glad Jake has done the work to be with Jon, because I can actually see measurable growth from where he was versus where he’s been. But Jake isn’t a miracle worker, and the more I see the anger come out in Jon - now - the more I feel like I’ve set some kind of bad example. Well, I mean, I have. I’m slowly - at least in my head - seeing the light. Right now what I’m seeing is Jon needed me, and maybe…maybe I should pay attention to that.

So that brings me to sitting outside the school, watching Micah walk over to my car. I’m not anything to this kid, and Jon is feeling jealous - it practically reached through the phone - but you have to do what you’re capable of.

Micah opened the door and sat down, tossing his bag between his feet. ”You know Sasha hates this idea, right?”

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of the appeal. It’s not the idea though. It’s me,” I told him honestly.

“Yeah, probably. I mean, you’re weird, but why does he hate you so much?”

I pretended to think for a minute. I was pretty sure I knew why; how to parse it to Micah was the question. “Probably because he cares about things, and I mostly don’t.”

He frowned a little, and I looked away as I checked traffic and pulled away. “Cares about…I don’t understand. You don’t seem to care about anything.”

“That’s stupid, Micah. You’re not stupid. Try again.”

I heard the seat give a little as he flopped back a bit. “It’s probably because you’re a dick.”

“Expand on that,” I said, rolling my hand, but not looking at him.

For a moment I didn’t think he’d reply, but when he did, I wasn’t disappointed. “He cares about people. Like people, like humans. You don’t.”

“Pretty close,” I said. “I care about an exceedingly small group of humans.” I glanced at him and back at the road. “He’s built to think about the bigger picture. I’m not, not at that level anyway.”

“So…why me? Why are we doing this?”

“Free stuff isn’t enough for you?”

He shrugged. “I’ll take it. Just kind of wonder.”

Honesty is so uncomfortable. It’s why I knew how Jon was feeling, because I stink at this sort of thing too. It’s easier to put on a mask - a facade. But I think…if I’m going to make any change for Jon or myself, it has to start somewhere. “In a lot of ways, Micah, you’re people.”

“What?” he asked, doubtfully.

“Every kid - person - has shit they have to deal with. Everyone around you now will tell you - and it’s true - that you got shafted. If you had any doubt or some thought that you deserved what you got dealt for a birth family, they’ll tell you the truth.” I licked my lips. “Just because my family has money, doesn't mean I don’t understand that part of you. How I got the shit end of the stick, money or no. So okay, now you have all the warm fuzzy things. Sasha and Alec treat you like some special thing. You have friends, a big extended family…like…thing.”

He stayed quiet.

“I’m just…filling in a blank. Kids like me would have been huge assholes to kids like you. Kids who didn’t have new brand names.” I glanced at him and then back. “So you probably shouldn’t tell kids like that to fuck off, but…it never hurts to have a few things that are nicer. Maybe stuff Alec and Sasha would get you, if they could. Stuff maybe that’s not for everyday. I don’t know.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I have a dance coming up.”

I grinned. “Well. Now we know what we need.”

So we shopped, but not for that long. We got him some stuff, and we were both happy, even if neither of us really said it. We stopped by the food court when Micah mentioned he had missed lunch. Sure, it was nowhere near healthy, but that’s not why you go to a food court.

“So do you still want to fuck my dad?” Micah popped a french fry into his mouth. I sputtered as my soda water went down the wrong pipe. He waited while I finished my coughing fit. The little bastard had totally timed that question; his smirk was enough to prove that.

“What?” I said finally. Then - “Which one?”

“You know.” For a moment there was silence - aside from the white noise of the food court. Then he sighed. “Alec. You’ve been trying to get with him ever since you met.” Micah’s eyes were hard, though he seemed calm. I weighed my options and decided to see if he was just going for shock value.

“What makes you think I’d want…that?”

He tilted his head. “Bruh.”

I crossed my arms, easily falling into childish ways. “No. You don’t get to toss out a hand grenade just to see it explode.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, for real. My friend Leo was a walking hard on for my dads at first, and it was exactly as gross as you think - and no, he didn’t think you were hot. Like, at all.”

I frowned. “Not necessary. Go on.”

He shifted in his chair. “It’s just this…look people get when they’re trying to be all stealthy, or think they are, when they want to jump someone. Leo did it. So did you. I just didn’t realize it right away.” He crossed his arms. “For real, it was cringe as fuck.”

What the hell had I looked like if this child picked up on it? “I…not anymore. Not for a bit.”

“So you did though?” His eyes narrowed. Ah-ha, so Sherlock Holmes Jr. wasn’t 100% sure. Until now at least, when I confirmed it. Damn, hindsight really is 20-20. I can’t believe I just got played by a kid.

“No one likes talking about their parents having sex. Pretty ballsy,” I replied, going for deflection. I considered making a voyeur joke, but I had just spent the last hour or so trying to be less adversarial with him.

“Yeah, I don’t. So answer my question.” He held my gaze even as he took a bite of his burger - which dampened the effect somewhat.

“I already did, basically. Yeah, I tried, but it wasn’t what I’d call my best effort. Now I’m not even doing that. I mean, if they offered I wouldn’t say no….” I shrugged and smirked at his involuntary shudder. “Why do you ask?” I said after a minute.

“I was going to tell you to back the fuck off,” he said matter-of-factly. “They don’t need that shit from you.” He cocked his head. “And why would you go after someone who’s married, anyway? That’s just messed up.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt being grilled by a teenager I wasn’t related to - though from the way I felt my teeth grit, I knew I wasn’t loving it.

“Sorry, I’m still stuck on how this conversation is even happening,” I replied. “Where did this even come from?” Micah shrugged. “Look,” I continued, “even if I wanted to, and I don’t-”

“Anymore,” the kid interrupted.

“I wouldn’t get very far at all. Your dads are so in love it’s a bit gross. Getting in-between that would be like…” I searched for a suitable comparison then gave up. “It would be really fucking hard, okay? If I could do that sort of thing, I’d have seduced a billionaire and been independently wealthy by now.”

“Independently…wait, if you married a billionaire wouldn’t it be his money, not yours?”

“First off, it could be a woman. Secondly, they’d be dead before the honeymoon.” There was silence for a moment. “Cause I’d murder them.”

Micah actually laughed. “Like you’d have the sack to off someone.”

Oh, kid, you have no fucking idea. Out loud, “Yeah, I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

“Creeper, more like.” Micah sighed and pushed his food away. “Look. You can’t have either of them.”

“Honestly, the last time the topic came up, I was going for both. At the same time,” I added and was rewarded with another grimace from him. He continued as if I hadn’t spoken.

“Yeah, you could whip my ass, but who gives a fuck? I’ve run away from people that give angry looks like you, pretty sure I can do it again - but whatever idea you might still have, forget it.”

“Who are you to deny me anything?” I replied, giving him one of my best evil smiles (Damien’s name for them, not mine). Yeah, the kid had guts, and this was cute and all, but I have my pride.

“Look, you picked me up and talked this big game about how other kids have things and you were trying to help. But now you want to be a bitch about me telling you to leave your pants on around my parents? What kind of douche are you, for real?”

“Valid. Look, I was being honest when I said I’m not trying anything. Anyways, it takes two for that kind of fun, and like I said, your dads are the definition of not interested.”

“People can make mistakes,” Micah said quietly. I raised an eyebrow. “And you’re like, the walking definition of mistake.”

“Harsh but fair. Harsh but fair. Still, you’re giving me way too much credit. Appreciated that you think I got that much game though.”

He pushed his tray away. “It’s not a fucking game, Geoffrey. It’s my family. I thought it was funny when you got Pop all wound up about buying a pony - that was legit - and this thing, weird, and I sort of get it. So why don’t you? Don’t you have family you care about? Wouldn’t you tell someone to back off if they were trying to get into one of your family’s relationships? And bruh, if you’d do that, why would you think acting like that is a fucking game?” He stood up. “I don’t even want the stuff anymore. I’ll catch a bus or something.”

“Hey, hey, let’s take a breath.” This had gotten way more serious than I had expected and, if I was being honest with myself, was hitting a bit too close to home. He paused, I guess seeing that he got me flustered. The little shit. “First off, Sasha will kill me if I let you take the bus back.”

“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” he said coldly.

“Second, at least tell me what you want from me, Micah. Aside from to fuck off,” I added when he opened his mouth. “I’ve said you don’t have to worry about me. You haven’t had to for a while. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I want you to get it. It’s my family. They’re alI I have, and I never had…fuck this.”

“Believe me, I do.” I stood up this time. “Partially why I’m here.” He stared for a second. I sighed. Okay, guess we’re doing this.

“You said you were here to buy name brands so people like you don’t make fun of me.”

“I said partially. Look,” I walked around the table past Micah, picking up the bags, since he looked like he was going to leave them. After a second, he fell in beside me. “Growing up, it was just me and my two brothers. Richard - he’s the eldest - he took care of us. After our parents died, he got custody. He was 23 - not much older than Alec and Sasha are now. I was 14, Jon was 12. People didn’t think he could do it, that we could do it. Everyone expected us to fail - and honestly, that was fair. But what bugged me is it wasn’t just ’cause we were three fucked up kids - it was because we didn’t fit their idea of what a family should be. We were too different, too unconventional.” I spat the word. As if to drive the point home, a family strode by - two parents, a couple of kids and a stroller, likely containing another brat. Cute. I hated it.

“When you came into your dads’ lives, people were skeptical too - and I heard them saying the same things they said about my family. But we proved them wrong. I wanted to help you guys prove them wrong too.”

MIcah was quiet for a few feet. “So. Where are you brothers now?” Where indeed? I thought. One’s working his ass off to make sure we’re safe, the other is…probaby at home stewing in his insecurities.

Right where I’d left him.

“The Springs,” I answered aloud.

Quietly he asked, “So your older brother is like…old, old now. What…what’s your little brother like?”

“Don’t ever let him hear you say that,” I chuckled. “Jon is…”

“Don’t say he’s like me.”

“Wasn’t going to,” I replied honestly. “You’re probably nicer than he is, anyways.” He glanced at me briefly. That had caught him off guard. “I actually think I pissed him off, coming here today.”

“Wasn’t that part of the plan?”

“Honestly, no. Not this time, at least.” It really hadn’t been - I figured that he wouldn’t miss me.

After a long pause Micah asked, “Is he pissed off a lot?”

“Less so these days. He got a new boyfriend - young love and all that. You know how it is. Or, maybe not,” I added, remembering who I was talking to.

“I can pull, thanks very much,” he said with a snort. “I have a girlfriend.”

“He’s ticked ’cause he thought we were hanging tonight. But it’s more the change in plans. He’s a bit of a control freak.”

“Yep. You’re related.” I diplomatically ignored that. We were having a moment, after all. “Why’d you flake on him?”

“I didn’t,” I replied a tad more defensively than I would have liked. “He just thought I was coming home tonight. Anyways, he doesn’t need me as much these days, plus he’s got the boyfriend, so I figured…”

We kept walking for another few minutes, letting the white noise of the shopping mall fill the silence. Then -

“You’re wrong.” I glanced down at Micah. “You know he wanted to see you, right? You’re not smart.”

I narrowed my eyes - “Says the kid who got a bunch of new stuff.”

He gestured at the bags with a smirk. “I mean, you’re the one carrying my bags.”

He had me there.

“Thanks, though. For the stuff.”

I glanced at him and then away. “I’ll expect at least one decent photo of you and your imaginary girlfriend at this dance. Does she look a lot like your hand?”

After that I started the long drive to Sanitaria Springs. Why? Because instead of asking Jon what his problem was, I got a dose of family therapy from a fifteen year old, because no way Jon just comes out and says anything, ever.

But first I had a stop to make in Binghamton about my other project. I couldn’t bring myself to care too deeply about big groups - it’s too impersonal, too big for me to really feel, I guess. This asylum seekers group hit different. A small group who’d been abused for the same reasons I had, trying to get away and start a new life? I could relate. So I’d spent my morning putting together and making a pitch to Richard - but of course he’d wanted me to do more than spend his money.

And it was good. It had the potential to be life changing for a few. So down to Binghamton I went.

--Jake--

The outside of the building really didn’t scream ‘safe place’. I mean…maybe? If you were coming from some of the places these refugees were coming from, then I guess maybe a Motel 6 would look good. I closed my eyes and tried to let that last thought slide; my boyfriend has a lot of influence over me, apparently. And after today I wasn’t keen on sounding like him. Even in my own head.

“You’ll never get him to live here. Just saying.”

I glanced in surprise - I’d know that tone anywhere. “Geoff? I thought you normally get hammered in bars.” Hey, it was the best I could do when surprised.

“Can drink more at home,” he said with a grin. “I’ll head off any other awkward dialogue-”

“Fat chance.”

“- by telling you I’m not staying, at least not today. I’m headed home for some brotherly bonding.” He looked up and away for a moment. “Yeah. I think that’s the term.”

“Good. Jon’s mad you flaked on him.”

He rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Cause it’s true?” I retorted.

He shot me some side-eye. “I’m not entirely sure I deserve this.”

“If you give it a second, I’m pretty sure you’ll find you do.”

He waved a hand. “Not worth the effort. Though I figured I’d be third-wheeling tonight with you two. Seeing you here, I can’t decide if I admire your resolve or am appalled at what must be a very low testosterone count.”

I sighed. The thought of Geoff crashing my evening with Jon made me feel like I’d dodged a bullet.

“I’ll be polite and go with resolve,” Geoff said and smiled falsely. “Look. Why don’t we start over just for now?” He waved a hand. “Refugees probably are more important than…whatever this is?”

I glanced at him. “Why are you here, again?”

“Oh, right! Knew I forgot something.” He moved forward a step and turned so he was looking at me. “I have…I’ve seen…oh, why am I explaining to you? It’s you that should be explaining.”

I chuckled. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”

Geoff turned and looked toward the house. “Hard to believe, though. People who could be killed will look at this…home…and really feel that word.” He looked back to me. “I understand it. Jon doesn’t. Personally I’m glad to see there’s something you care about besides loving my brother and hating me, but don’t forget that…maybe he’s not as far along as you are? Maybe…he’s afraid and doesn’t know how to say that without seeming like…well. You know.”

He wasn’t wrong, not entirely. It didn’t excuse Jon, but…it tracked. “So. Is that why you’re here?”

“No,” he said quietly and studied the house. “Showing up to plead my brother’s case to his boyfriend? Can you imagine?”

“It’s not easy,” I said, chuckling despite myself.

“Well, you’ll probably enjoy imagining what he’d do to me if he found out.” We both laughed at that. “I’m here about the work, though I’m not the ‘swinging hammer’ type.” He looked at me. “No snickering.” He turned back after a moment of giving me a mock glare. “But I’d like Richard to take some…discretionary income for this project. Irritatingly, he wants me to invest some of my own time before he invests any money.” He lowered his voice. “Thinks he’s making me grow up.” He sighed. “But I have other uses.”

“It’s a home for refugees, not prostitutes.”

“Oh, no one here could afford me, you little shit,” he growled. “But did you know there are fourteen properties very similar to this one? Ones that the city may be willing to turn over for pennies on the overdue tax dollar to get new owners who’d fix them up and get them back on the tax rolls?”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t.”

“Well. I’m guessing they don’t, either. So if I can help them formulate a plan for donation and development toward purchase, my brother may assist with the purchase part.”

“That’s…amazing, honestly.”

He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow before looking back. “He’s going to need some reassurance. He’s been left behind too many times, and he doesn't know how to say it. You realize this, though. So your plan is to force it on him?”

“He hasn’t been in a reasonable mood to talk. In fact he’s been pretty unstable, if you want the truth.”

Geoff turned toward me fully and strode past me to his car. He opened the passenger door and pulled out a folder before walking back toward me. He paused, not looking at me, and said, “That’s how you know you’re getting somewhere.” And then kept walking into the building.

“Thanks!” I called out. “Never thought of that! Good talk!”

He raised a middle finger at me without turning to look.

“Right back at you, brother-in-law.”

There was only a hitch in his step to mark that I’d scored a point, but that was all he’d give me. I smiled a bit.

“Boyfriend?”

I turned to look at Edwin, the Eagle Scout. “I’m dating his brother, actually. He’s the asshole in-law.”

“Ah.” He shook his head. “Seems douchey.”

“He is the definition of douchey.”

“Yeah. Figured. It’s in the walk.”

I glanced at him. “The walk?”

“Yeah.” He started to walk kind of funny in a sort of strut, but I had to admit, a bit like Geoff, and I started to laugh. He grinned, and we headed over to the front door. Geoff was in what might be the living room talking to Kareem, so we headed into the kitchen, where they had some doughnuts and coffee. Assignments were handed out, and Edwin and I got gloves, masks and protective glasses to carry old junk to the roll off. It was disgusting work, and I wish I could say I was thinking how nice this home would be for someone, but I wasn’t entirely feeling it. I probably would later, but right now…eh.

Of course, I couldn’t just dismiss what Geoff had said. I’d like to say all sorts of things about how what he says never bothers me, but he gets under my skin, and he likes it. Or maybe getting under my skin is just sport in the moment for him. Either way, I do listen, because he has a long history with Jon, so they do know each other well, and he - mostly - wants what’s best for Jon.

I sometimes worry about my lack of self-confidence. I know I love Jon, but sometimes I question if my reasons to love him aren’t entirely made up in my own head just to justify loving someone that doesn’t always treat me that well. I have to balance that with knowing he loves me and being able to have tangible evidence. No one is perfect; I’m not, he’s not. That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t talk to him about things, but Derek had a point too: how much of his bullshit should I put up with to get through to him? Even if it means I’m getting him?

We stopped after a few hours to get some water and a piece of fruit. Edwin and I sat on the front steps.

“How long you been with your boyfriend?” he asked.

“Almost a year.”

He smiled. “In it to win it, huh?”

I grinned and shrugged. “Drives me crazy, but I love him.”

“Dating sucks,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s hard to find anyone who actually wants to do any of the work for a relationship.”

Curious, but not wanting to pry, I said, “Jon’s my first real relationship. I have a friend group, and many of them are gay or bi. I can only think of one that broke up. I mean,” I smiled, “some have had their problems. Some struggles with being who they are.”

“Not like you and yours?” he asked, teasing in his tone.

“Oh, we struggle,” I said with a chuckle. “We’re from different worlds.”

“Warring families different or class differences?” he asked, then bit into his apple.

I chuckled. “Funny you say that. I can actually see his family as one of those warring types.” I shrugged. “He has money - or his brother does. I don’t, really. He’s bi, I’m gay. Took him some time to get where he is.”

“We’re all a work in progress,” he said with a nod. “I keep getting back together with my ex. He has good qualities, but long term we fight over stuff.”

I glanced at him. “Do you love him, though?”

He chuckled. “I do. I mean, not always. Sometimes I just can’t see any of that through our disagreements. We’re off again right now, and he’s seeing someone else. I tried the whole dating thing, but…it’s hard to reach the standards that get set for guys by other guys. Not good enough in the abs department, got some acne so you need medications and photo filters. Everyone wants nudes.”

I snorted.

“What?”

I chuckled and sighed all in one. “My boyfriend used to send nudes. In fact, first time I saw his dick was on some girl’s phone. It was like a meme, being shared around.”

He nodded. “It’s how it goes, now. Some people are pushing back on it, I guess. I’m not the biggest fan of it. Maybe it’s how I was raised, but I’d kind of like to know you before I see all your parts.”

I nodded. “Is your ex like that?”

He laughed. “My ex has a great body, so he’s a little narcissist about taking pictures of himself.”

I thought for a moment. “I don’t think Jon’s a narcissist, but he’s pretty good at thirst trap shots.”

“Yeah?” he asked and smiled. “Sometimes it’s real torture to get that good shot and not be able to do anything about it.”

I smiled back. I thought about going out to the portapotty and sending something to Jon - something neither of us could do anything about - but it seemed like a bad idea. I mean, I could be in bed with him right now, getting his ass - and it wasn’t an offer he made often. So if I sent him something sexy right now, he’d use that against me - and who knows when he’d offer to let me in him again?

We put our gear on and headed back inside, but my thoughts slipped from getting my boyfriend’s ass to why he was being such an insecure ass. There were things about Jon I’d probably never really understand, but…I wanted to. I wanted to unravel him until he had no secrets. I wanted to twist him in knots like he does me - maybe just for the sake of the twisting.

On our second trip out I told Edwin I had to run over and pee. I slipped into the porta potty and hunted for some kind of flattering angle. Yeah, in a porta potty. While trying not to gag. I stroked myself a few times - just getting a little plump wasn’t that easy with the smell in there - then I snapped a few pictures. I flipped through them, picked the one I thought Jon might like best and sent it to him.

Jon could take it a few different ways, not all of them good, but then the point had been to poke the bear. Maybe if he burnt through his anger or whatever, then we could have a serious talk about his control issues and the fact I wanted more of his ass than he’d been willing to offer up.

--Geoff--

Honestly, not a bad start. Kareem, the handsome volunteer coordinator, seemed agreeable, if a little suspicious at first, but if anything, that made me respect him more. Some cocky jerk shows up saying he wants to help run your project, it’d be weird if he wasn’t a little leery. The sparring with Jake had been an unexpected bonus, though.

So that’s how we get to me arriving home that evening unexpectedly. Well, unexpectedly for Jon, at any rate. Richard was just heading out, and we passed each other coming and going.

“Looking sharp,” I commented. ”Where you meeting her?” He was dressed nicely but still kind of casual. Slacks and button down style - appropriate for your slightly more upscale restaurant.

“The bistro on Plain Street,” he replied, slowing down but not stopping. His expression was focused in that way only a few people knew meant he was nervous.

“Good luck.” I gave him a pat on the shoulder as we passed. With the woman he was meeting, he’d need it. There was History with a capital H there.

“Same to you. Jon’s up in his room brooding,” he said as he opened the front door. “And Geoff?” I turned around to see him paused at the doorway. “Don’t push him too hard. Or at least try not to kill each other. The last thing I need tonight is to come home to a war zone.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Because you might not be coming back alone?” He didn’t dignify that with a response and clicked the door shut behind him.

Shedding my jacket in the kitchen, I went upstairs and tossed my bag into my room before going to Jon’s and bursting in.

“What are you doing home on a Friday night, you utter loser?” I asked.

He looked up from his bed, where he was sprawled and looking at his phone. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here. Sometimes,” I replied. There was no need to tell him I had rearranged things to be here for him. The fact that I was here was enough of an indicator. “It’s been a day, and I need a drink. Join me?”

“Fuck, yes,” he said, getting up and tossing his phone aside. We went down to the kitchen, and I grabbed a couple of beers. Jon trailed behind me into the living room. I handed him his beer and twisted the top on my own before sitting and taking a deep pull. I’d need all the liquid courage I could get for tonight, or at least that’s what I told myself. Jon took a drink and stretched out on the chair, sitting sideways with the arm supporting his legs under his knees. He turned on the TV and brought up a UFC fight. I’ve never really been into the bloodsports like Jon, but then he liked that sort of workout.

“This guy is fucking vicious,” he said with an edge to his voice. I glanced at the screen, noting what looked like every low-intelligence, overly tattooed person I’d ever seen who took money for getting in fights. I looked back at Jon.

“Maybe you should do this kind of thing,” I mused.

“I’d kill anyone in my weight class,” he said confidently. He glanced at me and frowned a little. “Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow?”

I shrugged. “Did what I’d intended. Figured I should at least have a hangover in my own bed tonight.”

He snorted. “Your bed for like, what? Two months a year?”

“Yes. Well. That number won’t be going up over time. Besides,” I said, leaning forward a bit, “it’s right next to Richard, and if I’m having sex it really puts a damper on things to think he’s jerking off to it in the next room.”

Jon burst out laughing, as I knew he would. Richard really is the perfect straight man, regardless of who he hooks up with. He works so much I’m not even sure he masturbates anymore. This date tonight may likely have been the first in years.

“I don’t have that problem,” Jon said with a smile.

“Nope. It’s Friday and you’re here with me. Hell, even our workaholic brother has a date. Kind of.”

He pushed his lips together and looked at the screen, where the fight was starting. I hit a nerve with that, and of course if you hit a nerve you should press on it harder. Wasn’t that the rule?

“So. Friday. No boyfriend. Has he already gotten to the point that you only get together to fuck?”

Jon turned and fixed me with a look some would find intimidating. “No.”

“Doesn’t he like all the bloodletting?” I waved my bottle in the general direction of the TV.

He shook his head. “You’ve met him. Does he really seem like the ‘bloodletting’ sort to you?”

I shrugged. “You never know for sure. He wanted you to teach him how to fight, after all.”

“Why are you asking about Jake?” He paused and narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

“I took Micah shopping,” I replied promptly.

“You know that’s not what I meant…” He sighed. “But since you mention it, what the fuck? Are you going to donate to the Girls Scouts, too?”

“They do give you cookies,” I pointed out.

“Okay, now I’m complaining. Why’d you come home if you were just going to be an asshole?” he asked, swinging his legs off the chair as if he were going to stand.

“If I was just going to be me, you mean.” I shifted as well, putting my bottle between my hands. “Truth or drink. Why aren’t you off with your silly boyfriend? I thought you were in love?” Yes, I know they had a falling out. But telling him that I knew – moreover, how I knew - would be dangerous. Ever seen one of those crocodiles on T.V. when a keeper pokes them with a pole? Spinning, lashing, biting? That should give you the idea.

“I am! We are!” He scowled and then drank. “Why did you take Micah shopping?”

“Because, speaking from experience of both having been one and being around them, kids are assholes. So I got him a few things, which in no way will make up for everything, but…it’s something.”

“Why-”

“Ah! My turn,” I said. “Tell me, Pinter. Why do you hate Micah so much?”

He jolted back and frowned. “I don’t! I barely know him, why would I hate him?”

I tilted my head to one side. “I help him and your response is why? Not, oh good, someone should?’”

He looked at me down his nose. “He has parents.”

I smiled just a little. “Parents my age. He’s you, in a way. With Richard trying to raise you.” I probably wouldn’t have voiced that comparison to him if Micah hadn’t forced it out of me earlier. Before now I’d only ever verbalized it to Alec and Sasha. It wasn’t an exact fit, but….

He frowned and looked away from me. There was a noise on the screen, and we both looked. Two guys were trading heavy shots at each other - it honestly was kind of homoerotic. Two muscled guys in nothing but very short shorts rolling around together? Then one hit the ground hard. The other was on him, and it was getting messy. The guy on the ground balled up, covering his soft parts while the other guy looked for a way to do damage.

“So…I mean, Micah still has a family,” Jon said, his tone softer. “And so do you.”

So Micah was right. Jon was feeling neglected. Calling him out on that to just say it would only piss him off more than he already was. And I was going to be doing enough of that tonight.

“They’re doing their best, but...” I shrugged. “They’re just kind of getting by. Could use a hand.”

He sniffed and twisted his upper lip and nose together as if there was an itch. “Yeah. I guess I can see that.” He looked at me. “But why do you care?”

It wasn’t exactly following the rules, but I took a long drink and then looked down between my feet. “You can’t help everyone. A lot of times, you can’t even always help people right around you.” I looked up at him. “Sometimes even the person right next to you is out of reach.” I shrugged. “I’ve learned that, for sure.”

“So? What does that even mean?” His eyes narrowed at my words. He took a breath to speak.

“I think it’s my turn again,” I said quietly. “Why aren’t you with your beloved boyfriend?”

He snorted, rubbed under his nose and looked away from me before tipping the bottle up to his lips - and then he stopped. He never tilted it far enough to drink. He pulled the bottle away and looked at it. He looked at me from the corner of his eye.

“He loves me.”

“Further proof of his idiocy,” I said by way of agreement.

He ran his palm over his mouth. “I…I’m afraid I’m losing him.”

“More like driving him away,” I said promptly.

He glared. “Can you not be a douche?”

I nodded. “I could, but it’s not nearly so useful.” I waved a hand. “Look, Pinter…let’s just be straight with each other, no pun intended. Why are you having boy trouble?”

“Totally intended,” he muttered. I could see the tension in his body, the confusion my arrival had sparked in him. The anger and resentment he was feeling was still lingering, and he didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t know what to do with it either. Had I made him this way? Was he like this because of what he learned from me?

I rolled the bottle cap over between my fingers. For a bit I didn’t think he’d answer. He took a drink, then another. He glared at me and looked at the screen. He slumped back into the chair and fiddled with the bottle. “I’m…angry. But…He…I need to….”

“Complete a sentence?” I smiled around the end of the bottle as I drank, and he glared. “Let me tell you what I think,” I said, setting my bottle down.

“Don’t you always?” He put one leg up, hooking it over the armrest.

“Okay, look,” I said, not meeting his gaze. “We’re fucked up. You have to start from there. You’ve been lucky, because Jake has looked past anything a sane person would have decided was a red flag and run screaming.”

Jon made a choking sound that may have been a laugh and then coughed. I took a drink and watched him for a minute as he kept clearing his throat and trying to stop coughing, using the time to get my thoughts into some kind of cohesive order. It was uncomfortable, considering I don’t enjoy personal conversations to begin with. Sasha would probably add that to the long list of why I’m an asshole; I don’t think I could argue this one.

Finally I said, “Look. I’m not saying he’s perfect or you’re a lost cause. What I’m saying is you have to be honest with yourself first. You have to be willing to admit you’re wrong, even if it’s just to yourself to start with.”

I looked up at Jon, and he stared back at me. I wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, and usually I can read him pretty well. I guess being away - and having someone love him - is changing things. Not altogether a bad thing.

“I…feel like I’m being needy.” It was almost a whisper, but that was okay. It’s a start.

“So what if you are?”

“I.” He shifted. “Nobody likes that.”

I shrugged. “Everyone is needy sometimes. Why do you feel needy?”

He rubbed a hand up and down his face and took a deep breath. “I keep thinking. Like, circles about graduation, and college and Jake and…I…I called Greg today.”

I raised my chin. “And?”

An expression flashed across his face I’d not seen often…shame. “He just…confirmed I’m being…a controlling asshole.”

“Wow, wasn’t really expecting that,” I said, and I meant it.

Jon sighed. “Thanks. But…what’s weird is I’m starting to think maybe he’s…”

I cut him off. “Oh, he's 100% right. I’m just surprised he came out and said it.” Greg had been Jon’s yes-man - and enabler - ever since they’d met. “Probably felt a little safer over the phone,” I added.

“Thanks, asshole.” Jon took another drink and slumped down on the couch, but now his surly expression looked a tad more thoughtful. “Has he always been afraid of me?”

“Well, not just you - a little bit of me too -”

“Yeah, right.”

“But yes, mainly you. He always struck me as kind of a Stockholm Syndrome situation.”

Jon straightened up - “You’re talking like he was my prisoner! He’s been my best friend for like…”

“Oh, he’s loyal to you. Fanatically so, to be honest. But so was that girl who got kidnapped and then robbed a bank for those people.” Was I exaggerating to make a point? Maybe, but the point stood. I was actually a little bit surprised Jon hadn’t clocked this years ago.

“I…I protected him. Kept him safe,” Jon said in a small voice.

“From the world or yourself?” Yeah, I was proud of that line. Maybe I should write some of these down…

My literary musings were cut short by a pillow flying straight at my head. I caught it, laughing. Jon glared at me before taking a swig of his beer. “Both,” he said quietly.

I nodded and sipped from my bottle. “What will you do about it?”

He frowned. “What do you mean? About Greg?”

“Worth considering, but no. He’s not the immediate problem, is he?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said evasively.

I widened my eyes and tried not to smile. “You figured out what you’re doing wrong. What will you do to fix it?”

“It’s not all me!” he said angrily. “Jake joined this thing - picked them over me - and didn’t even tell me!”

“People…who can see the good under the bad aren’t that common. Most people just see the surface - the abs, the lips - and they take what they can get. So few people are worth the effort.”

“Then why did he-”

“Because he’s a person, too,” I said and sighed. “Some people have empathy. You and I? Not so much, or it comes out in weird ways.” I pointed at myself. “Micah.” I pointed at him. “At first, Jake. But then…something else. So the fact is, he’s not picking refugees over you. He made a commitment and he’s sticking to it. He’s an individual, and you have to respect that. Frankly, Pinter, you can’t just admit you’re wrong on this. You have to understand it, or you’re going to do it again. Then, you’ll be right - you’ll be driving him away.”

His face screwed up a bit, too many emotions crashing together at once. “But I told him I’d-” And he closed his mouth with a snap.

“Look. I-”

“Wait.” He took a step toward me. “How did you know about the refugees?”

I gave him my best smug stare. “It’s called being smarter than you.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Geoff, I swear to GOD-”

“As if he’s listening,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “It was practically an accident. I was looking for charitable gifts for Richard’s business, stumbled on this and - you know Richard - he wanted me to get my hands dirtier than they were. I had to go down there to discuss some details, and I ran into your boyfriend.”

Jon rubbed his forehead. “Please tell me you didn’t say anything to him.”

“Don’t be silly.” I watched the tension slightly leave Jon’s shoulders before… “Of course I did.” His head shot up.

“I will fucking end you,” he snarled.

“Love you too, bro.”

--Jon--

Geoff is not just an asshole, he is the asshole. I can’t think of anyone else that can make being a tiny bit helpful as painful as possible. I wanted to launch myself at him - I wanted to smash a bottle over his head. I wanted a lot of very violent things.

Geoff watched me watching him, putting aside his beer and shifting slightly in the chair in case he had to get up quickly. Physically we were pretty even, but I’d rarely won any of our fights - in the sparring ring or anywhere else. It had been a while though, and I’d been training. Wasn’t sure I could say the same for him. Would it be enough? Maybe.

“Okay, before you go full ‘Hulk-smash’ on me, maybe you want to hear what Jake said?”

“I’m more worried about what you said to him.” I could feel my muscles tensing. I wanted to test that “maybe” - I wanted to test it in the worst way. But he was right - I did want to know what Jake said.

“He feels he can’t talk to you right now. Not when you’re…well, like this.” Geoff gestured vaguely in my direction and took a sip.

“The fuck does that mean?” I snarled. “This? This is me wanting to kick your ass for being an interfering prick. It’s nothing like when I fight with Jake.” Geoff raised an eyebrow. “We talk,” I insisted. “Cause he doesn’t go out of his way to piss me off.”

“And yet here we are…” With that, I felt the fight start to seep out of me, deflating like one of those pathetic balloon animals.

“It’s been…rough lately,” I said.

“Pinter, you have a way with people. When you’re not flying off the handle, I mean. It’s how you built a cult of personality in Boston. But you weren’t happy, like really happy, there, were you?”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to punch him while arguing with him. Problem was….

Problem was he wasn’t wrong. Wouldn’t go so far as to say right, but not wrong. I took a steadying breath to center myself.

“Now you’re here,” he went on. “And you’ve found something different. Someone different.”

I’d told him as much. Jake cared about me for me, not what I could give him. Greg too, but not like a partner - and I was coming to realize what he got was protection - from me or anyone else. Jake wasn’t afraid of me.

“But that means you can’t use the same tricks on him when he doesn’t do what you want,” Geoff continued. “You can’t fly off the handle cause he left-”

“You left too!” I blurted. Fuck.

Geoff blinked. “I, wait, what?”

“You went back to school.” I pushed, feeling dumb. “Obviously, yeah, you would. But started coming back less and… I don’t, like, need you around all the time or some shit, but then there was…Halloween.”

That word hung between us for a moment. Geoff looked away. “That was… I’m sorry, I scared you,” he said after a moment. “That must have been hard.”

“I’m not talking about that. Like, it was, but I mean after,” I was struggling for words to express something I’d never really planned on saying out loud. “Fuck, man, you almost died.”

“I wouldn’t go that far…”

“You didn’t see the doctor’s face,” I cut him off. Geoff had picked up a roofied drink at a Halloween party that landed him in the hospital till the next day. That wait in the hospital had been one of the worst days of my life - and I’ve had some contenders. The doctor had come out looking so tired and disappointed. The way she had tried to avoid meeting our eyes when she walked past.

“I just realized that…one sec you’re here, and then you’re not. All the things - even stupid things,” I gestured to the T.V. for an example, “- we planned wouldn’t happen.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t know you felt like that.” He sounded sad and even a little surprised - the asshole.

“Cause we don’t talk. Not like we used to. But with this we shouldn’t have had to. You asked why I wasn’t with Jake on a Friday night - even before I knew he was busy with this refugee bullshit. It’s because…”

“If you want to hang out more, sure-”

“Then you fucking flake on me today cause you have to take your friend’s kid shopping.” The words were spilling out, and I couldn’t stop them. “Yeah, he’s got it rough, but what is he to you? I’m your brother. Is it cause of Alec? He’s never going to fuck you. No matter how much money you blow on his kid.”

That one hit home. Geoff’s jaw clenched, his lips pursed, and his eyebrow furrowed. He was definitely fighting back some violent responses.

“Careful,” he muttered before taking a sip.

“Am I right? You playing the long game? Cause you’re just…”

“It’s not about that. I told you,” he said tightly. “I told you. They - Alec, Micah, Sasha, remind me of us…”

“Geoff. This is me.” I took a step forward. “Don’t fucking insult me like that. I know there’s more.” And I did. I could smell it like a shark could smell blood in the water. He didn’t just help people. We didn’t just help people.

“Just let it go, Pinter. I’m here now -”

“After helping Micah. You’re the one who always said ‘family first.’ When did I start coming second to strangers for everyone?”

“Because Micah’s me!” he snapped. I paused.

“The hell you talking about?”

“What he went through, how he is -”

“How? You were never homeless, Richie’s always made sure we were never hurting for money,” I argued.

“Both our parents failed us.” His voice was flat. I didn’t know what to say to that. On some level I had known how our parents treated him. When he confronted our uncle last Thanksgiving it was brought out in the open. Since then we’d….not really talked about it, except for Geoff to tell me he didn’t blame me. Hearing that had sort of…let me put it out of my head. As shitty as it sounds.

“I’m…I’m sorry,” I said lamely.

He shook his head. “I’m glad they were better for you, really. But it hurts. I know they’ve been gone for years now, but that doesn’t just go away. It can leave marks. And when you see those same marks on someone else, someone for whom you can make a difference, so it’s easier to carry, you wonder, you know? Like maybe this pain can be good for something if I can use it to help someone else.”

Seeing this side of Geoff was equal parts fascinating and terrifying. I understood, kind of. But what about my pain? That and the alcohol may have been why I said what I did.

“So you’re brushing me off because mom and dad loved me? Are you for real?”

For a minute we just stared at each other. He looked like I’d actually punched him.

“What…the fuck, Jon?” His voice was incredulous. As if I’d said something monumentally stupid, like suggesting Richard should sell out to Amazon. “That is the stupidest fucking shit I’ve ever heard. And coming from you, that’s saying something.”

I flopped back in my chair. “Oh, fuck you. And is it, though?”

“Yes,” he snarled and leaned forward on the couch. "And you’ve said some pretty dumb things.” He held up a hand as I got ready to snap back at him.

“Look.” He shifted, looking uncomfortable. “There are some things that just are. Like our little family. We fight. We’re…not always nice. But we do stick together. I never thought… Look, we all change. You’re not the same Jon you were a year ago - and this is an improvement.”

“Fuck. You.”

“No, not right now,” he said dryly. “And I know it didn’t sound like it, but that was a compliment.”

I waited, but just barely.

“Look, what I’m saying is that everyone changes. Who we are doesn’t. Sure, I’m at school and so are you. I’m not dating, but you are, and that has changed you - for the better. Can you honestly say whatever girl you last fucked - would you be nearly as concerned with what she thought of you?” A small hesitation and then he plunged forward. “No. The answer is no. But just because we…grow, I guess…doesn’t mean we aren’t who we are to each other.”

He paused and took a sip of his drink while watching me, clearly debating whether to say the next bit. “And, it’s possible I may have…thought that with Jake and the...uh, group, you might have enough stuff going on that, maybe you wouldn’t need me as much. Maybe I was trying to head that off.”

“Need you?” I replied reflexively, my tongue feeling too large for my mouth.

“Fine, you wouldn’t miss me as much.”

“I wouldn’t go that far either.” This time I smirked. That much was true though. I had missed him. And probably the other thing too. “What about all that shit about not changing who we are to each other?”

“Hey, I’m only human. Still better than you, but still human.” We both laughed.

We sat there for a few minutes. Sharing deep feelings, even with the person who knows you best, takes it out of you.

“So I’m guessing that on the heels of…this, Jake deciding to go all do-gooder kind of hit hard?”

I grimaced at the thought of being such an open book that I didn’t even have to explain it, but like I said…person who knows you best. “Yeah, back to back, I guess I kind of spiraled. Still think it’s a waste of - not really my thing,” I corrected myself. “But if that’s important to him, then fine. Just didn’t realize how big of a deal it was for him until…”

“He turned you down?” Geoff grinned. “Been on both sides of that. It stings.”

“Yeah… Yeah, it does.”

“You know you have to tell him this, right?”

“Can’t I just let him fuck me?” I half-whined. Communication is important, sure, but every time in the last few days I’d tried to talk to Jake I’d made things worse. Sex seemed like a nice olive branch.

“Not as a long term solution, Pinter. He needs to know why you were being an asshole so he doesn’t think you’re just an asshole now. A bigger asshole, I mean.”

Dammit.

We’d watched some more of the fight before playing some video games.

After we both went to our rooms for the night, I closed the door and leaned against it with a growl.

In truth I wasn’t angry, though. Yes, I was ticked I’d spilled my guts about missing him, and he’d frustrated me, but I can read him pretty well, even though there is something different about him. The single most useful but assholish thing about him is how he exposes my own bullshit to me. There is never a gentle ‘Sure, but have you looked at it like this?’ It’s more like ‘Look, here’s where you took a dump, now let me rub your nose in it.’

I sat in the semi-darkness of my room and brooded. He’d scored a lot of points on me tonight, and I was simultaneously feeling like a massive douche and a needy child. Not a pleasant combo. I absently noted a blinking light by my bed; I’d left my phone to charge this afternoon. It was old, and the battery didn’t charge that well anymore. I tried to ignore the blinking light.

I spun my chair so I was looking out my window and down into our driveway. Geoff’s car was down there, light bouncing off the fender from the light in front of the house. I sat like that, just a simpleton staring at his brother’s car, for way longer than I should have while my subconscious tried to work through my turmoil. Eventually I reluctantly admitted to myself that if I was going to get any peace or answers, I’d have to look at the things Geoff scored points on me from.

The easy one was Greg, but it was also the most complicated. He was right - Greg was afraid of me. It wasn’t like I didn’t know; that used to make me feel good. Like, I was powerful. I protected Greg, and he recognized my strength, maybe appreciated it. But…what if that wasn’t really it? What if I took that picture in my head and looked at it another way? What if Greg saw me as dangerous and better to keep on friendly terms? I didn’t think that entirely tracked. When we’d talked to Greg last year in Boston, he’d seemed happy that we talked. Like he’d missed me, and I was glad to be missed. I liked Greg, but did I only like him because he kissed my ass? I didn’t think so, but that was probably part of it.

Or was it like that thing where people feel some kind of love for their abuser? That really kicked me in the nuts. If I look at him being honest with me earlier through that lens…he was safely far enough away to be honest…then he did me a big favor. He’d confirmed I was as big a douche as I suspected, but…that’s what a real friend is supposed to do.

Fuck. Me.

I wished I could be angry. That’s so much easier. The options then are a verbal set up and beat something or just go to beating something. Honestly…it just wasn’t there. I could get a little annoyed thinking of Geoff and his delivery, but it didn’t change anything. Instead I was forced to look at myself in the mirror, and damn if I wasn't happy with what I was seeing. Not because it was all clear to me, but because I couldn’t get a handle on all of it. In fact I wasn’t sure I wasn’t missing most of my issues.

Geoff was right - everyone’s needy sometimes. I guess I’d really been feeling that. I think normally Jake would be more than happy I needed him. I think he’d be…well I know he’d be happy to have me take his dick. I closed my eyes and called myself a fucking douche for trying to get him to compromise by offering something I almost never do. He’d known it wasn’t because I wanted to, but because I’m fucked up. I should have known that, because I knew how well he knew me.

For a few minutes I indulged myself in the security that I’d warned him I was damaged. I’d told him I was fucked up. Every time I excused myself with that, he pointed to something good. Something worth seeing. Something decent. That was the problem with trying to give myself that out; I knew better. It was true, there was some reason, but he wouldn’t let me use it as an excuse.

Something Geoff said came back to me, something he hadn’t said like a snob or in his asshole accent. He’d said I couldn’t just admit I’m wrong, I had to understand it or I’d do it again. But how do I understand? Jake’s so pissed at me I don’t even know if he’s got the patience to make me understand, and truth? I just wanted him to not be mad anymore. But…I guess that wasn’t the entire truth.

On my favorite brew, I think I really did want to understand why. Was this just me being fucked up, or was that just an excuse? Like telling myself Greg liked me for my strength when really he was terrified of me, but still managed to be an actual friend. Was it really so wrong to only care about those nearest to you? How much of myself did I need to blow up to get Jake back?

I shook my head. I’ve never loved someone so much as I love him. Sometimes it hurts, but when it doesn’t - which is a lot - it’s better than any high. Better than scaring an asshole that needs it. Better than drinking a case or bottle of top shelf booze. Definitely better than any girl I’d gone to bed with, but that wasn’t even fair, because it was just sex. Just a hook up. Jake was trying to make something better out of a man whore.

The question was, if I couldn’t go to Jake, who do I talk to? Who will actually tell me what I need to know to figure this out? Geoff is out of the question. I’m not sure he knows, for one, and for two he’d do everything he could to make me feel like a bigger asshole than I already do. Am. If Robin were close, I could talk to him, probably. He isn’t here, though, so he might not get it or I might not explain it right. I’d give myself too many outs.

Greg…had already been a good friend to me. I could get in my car and show up at his door, but he’d let me in because he was afraid I’d break his door down or some other crazy shit. No. Greg needed to be treated better than that, and my first step there was not to do this to him.

Seth was too wrapped up in Foster. They’d probably be in a pot-smoking haze all weekend, fucking each other in between eating snacks ‘cause they got the munchies. Much as I’d kind of liked Seth and called him my minion, the same reasons I couldn’t go to Robin kind of applied here.

It was moments like this that made me miss Damien the most. He would have been able to give me some kind of advice but deliver it better.

A sick feeling worked its way right from my asshole all the way to my throat. I could only think of one person I could ask, but he was more than likely going to tell me to fuck right off. I frowned, at first feeling irritated at him, but then realizing that I’d made this mess with him.

“You have to listen to someone, Jon,” I told myself.

I crossed the room and picked up my phone with the intent to send a text, but the blinking light was for a waiting text. It was from Jake, and I opened it with way too much eagerness. A dick pic? I sat down on my bed and looked at his cock, not entirely hard, but unmistakeably his. Where the fuck was he? I glanced at the time and saw it had been much earlier. He’d been at the refugee thing. I looked closer and widened the image. Was that. No. A porta potty?

I brought the image back to regular size and just looked at it. Why did he send me this? I had his nudes saved, and this wasn’t even a good shot. I haven’t seen a lot of other cocks, but he had a nice one. I scrolled up, but there was no message, just a dick pic in a porta potty. Was this some kind of message that he still wanted to top me? I felt a small wave of relief at the idea. Being topped was…tough. I liked the idea of it and what it did for him more than the act itself. But if he was saying he still wanted me…that had to be a positive. Jake wasn’t going to fuck me and break up.

I stood up and tried to think about the right response. What I really wanted was to invite him over, let him do his thing, and keep him in bed until I felt better. I mean I’d rather do my thing, but everyone makes sacrifices, right? I glanced at the clock and realized it was way too late; Jake was probably sleeping after trying to save the world.

I was struck with a thought and decided I wasn’t going to over analyze it. I stood and walked over to my closet door and opened it, revealing the mirror on the back of the door. I pulled my joggers down and turned, taking a pic over my shoulder of my ass and looked it over. Not my best. I reached in and flipped on the closet light and then shifted around a bit, trying to get my ass in its best light. I took a few more pictures, decided on the one I’d fuck, and sent it to him with a short follow up: Rain Check?

I pulled my joggers up and looked at the message, but there was no indication of a reply. Still, I felt oddly better. It didn’t solve anything, not yet, and that brought me back to my original reason for picking up the phone. Before I could chicken out, I sent a text to Derek Pellegrini, probably Jake’s best friend. I kept it short, just asking to meet to talk face to face. I didn’t want him to think it was a set up, so I told him I needed his help.

I was disappointed but not surprised that there wasn’t a reply coming right back. Even if he was awake, he’d probably hesitate to meet me. That was my fault too, probably. I stretched out on my bed and brought up my pictures, then navigated to my folder of Jake’s nudes. I studied them for a while, wishing he was there, and drifted off before I realized it.

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