by Austin Bates
"I'm so sorry," he said, and they both froze for a moment. As if the words had broken something loose in his throat, the words came pouring out. "I'm so, so sorry. I never should have agreed. I should have screamed or run faster. I never should have left you alone with them."
"Shut up," Damien said, his voice quiet and tired.
"I thought if I could just get away, I could run and get help," Tommy babbled, trying to turn and see Damien's face, but the arm across his waist held him firm. "I never thought they would do that to you. God, Damien, there was so much blood."
"Shut. Up." The arm disappeared, and Tommy turned over to find Damien glaring at him. The fire in his dark eyes was more terrifying than the flames that had flickered under the door of his room at the Fairlane.
"I'm so sorry," Tommy said, his voice clogged by the tears that were pouring down his cheeks. "I wish I had done something different. I wish it had been me, and not you."
"Shut up!" Damien shouted. Tommy shut his mouth so fast that he bit his tongue. In the ringing silence that filled the room, Damien jerked away from him, rolling to his feet. With carefully controlled motions, he pulled on his jeans. "I don't want to hear it," he said, the muscle in his jaw jumping. "I didn't want to hear it then, and I sure as hell don't want to hear it now."
"I know," Tommy said, his voice choked. "But I had to say it."
Damien spun on him, his fists clenched in the fabric of his shirt. "Because it's so damned important for you to get your way."
"No," Tommy said, the words calm and even despite the sobs that were shaking him apart. "Because it's poisoned us both, and I can't live with myself if I let this hurt you anymore."
The moment stretched as Damien stared at him, his hands shaking. The seam along the sleeve of his shirt gave with a loud rip, and Damien threw it to the ground. "Fuck you," he spat, grabbing his jacket and shoes and slamming out of the room.
Tommy stared at the shirt for a long minute, his heart breaking even as Damien's sweat dried on his skin. He dragged himself to his feet to look out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Damien's broad back. The snow was too thick now to see even the lamppost on the corner. He stood there anyway, letting the cold from the window sink into his bones.
The sweat on his back itched, and he eventually padded into the bathroom, turning the shower on. He turned to stare at the tattoo on his back in the mirror. He'd been so sated that he hadn't even thought to worry about Damien seeing it. Now it didn't matter.
The scorched earth at the base of the burnt oak tree was stark against the pale skin of his back, the embers of the fire still glowing red. Ashy outlines marked the places where boards had been nailed to the tree, and torched skeleton of the tree house platform hangs precariously in the blackened branches. Tommy stared at the familiar lines until the steam obscured his view.
Stepping into the scalding hot shower, he scrubbed the rich smell of smoke off his skin until it was raw and red under his ink. Pressing his forehead against the tile, he stood there with the water pouring down on him and wept for everything he'd lost.
Chapter Ten
10 Years Ago…
Damien rolled out of bed ten minutes before his alarm went off.
He hadn't been able to sleep, staring at the way Tommy's ring reflected the light. He'd snooped around and found an old chain of his sister's to put it on, tucking it under his shirt as he got dressed. He kept smoothing it down, running his fingers over the line of the chain under his shirt and smiling as they bumped over the ring. He liked the way it felt, brushing against his chest as he moved.
He pulled his ring out of the case on his dresser and ran his thumb over it, imagining it against Tommy's pale skin. Would the glint of the fake ruby match the red of Tommy's lips after Damien kissed him? Tucking it into his backpack, he dragged his mind away from that thought. He wasn't going downstairs for breakfast with a hard-on.
He drove his sister to school like every day, tuning out her passionate rant on the latest freshman scandal. All he could think about was the way Tommy had looked at him in the tree house yesterday, his eyes bluer than the sky. He couldn't wait for school to be over so they could both be free from this little town. His parents had even offered to take Tommy with them when they went on their vacation this summer.
Walking into the school, he scanned the crowd, looking for Tommy's pale blond hair. He caught sight of him heading into Ms. York's classroom, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked. Tommy smiled, his crooked tooth flashing in the fluorescent lights.
Warmth flooded Damien's chest, and he smiled back, almost running into a group of freshman girls when they stopped to open their lockers. He ducked his head when they giggled at him, his eyes never leaving the back of Tommy's head.
They only had two classes together, both in the afternoon, so he spent most of the morning daydreaming about pale skin and soft lips that tasted like honey. It was all review at this point in the school year, anyway.
He was the first one out of the classroom when the lunch bell rang, making a mad dash for the sheltered corner around the back of the music building. It was always the first place the teachers looked for students who were sneaking cigarettes, so the seniors tended to avoid it. They didn't smoke, so he and Tommy had been able to make it their spot this year.
The ground was littered with scraps of paper and old soda cans, but no Tommy. Sometimes he got held up in Ms. Swanson's art class, so Damien settled down on the sparse grass to wait. His mom had made them meatball subs, and his stomach grumbled, but he ignored it. Pulling the chain out of his shirt, he smiled to himself, watching it glint in the sun.
It was different in the daylight, heavier.
He stared at it, mesmerized by the name engraved on the inside of the band. A car horn in the distance jerked him out of his thoughts, and he frowned. Tucking the ring back into his shirt, he poked his head around the corner. The courtyard in front of the band room was empty, but he could hear laughter coming from inside. The big clock on the outside wall said that lunch was half over. It was notoriously five minutes fast, but even so, Tommy was late.
Worry curled in Damien's stomach, and he grabbed his backpack. There were a hundred places that Tommy could be, but something made him head for the football field.
Coach ran drills during lunch for anyone who wanted to get a little extra training in and couldn't stay after school. He could hear the groans and grunts as the guys charged back and forth across the field in time to Coach's shouting. Sweat popped up on his forehead as he walked past the little building they used to sell concessions on game nights. He was glad to get into the shade of the bleachers.
Standing at the edge of the shadows, Damien scanned the yard for Tommy, but there was no blond head bent over a sketchbook or jogging along the track.
"Jones, pick up the pace." Coach's voice echoed off the scoreboard as he crossed his arms and glared at one of the sweating, panting boys doing drills.
"Hey, Coach," Damien said, waving cheerfully. "Have you seen Tommy?"
For a moment, he thought that Coach Miller hadn't heard him even though the three boys glanced up. Slowly, Coach turned and looked at him. Damien wasn't the star of the football team, but he was a good player, and he'd scored his share of points. He'd heard of Coach treating the guys who didn't pull their weight badly; it was why he'd left Colorado State. Never, in three years of tryouts and practices, had Coach looked at him with such disgust.
Damien swallowed, the nervous flutter in his stomach turning to lead. The other boys were watching closely, a sneer twisting Alex Miller's lips. Turning to walk away, the hair on the back of Damien's neck stood on end.
"King," Coach called, and Damien paused. "Come here a second."
Dragging his feet, Damien turned around. The air in the stadium was hot, but an icy dread was creeping up his spine. "Yes, sir?" he said, stopping a few feet away. His feet itched to run, get away, but he'd suffered through enough dressing downs from Coach to take it like a man.
&n
bsp; "Come here, boy," Coach said, tucking an arm around Damien's shoulders as soon as he was within reach. "I'm only going to say this once, you little fag," he hissed into Damien's ear. "Leave that boy alone."
Stunned, Damien could only stare at him.
"If it were up to me," he continued, "I'd make sure you didn't walk into a locker room ever again. These boys are real athletes, and they don't need you perverting their space. State says I can't do anything about it, but by God, I'm going to make sure you don't harass Sid's son."
"Sorry, sir," Damien said, rubbing sweaty palms on his jeans. "I'm not sure what you're talking about."
Coach spit, only narrowly missing the side of Damien's head, and Damien jumped. Thick fingers dragged the neck of Damien's t-shirt aside as Coach dragged the ring out of its hiding place. "You think I haven't heard about how you stole Tommy's class ring, you sick little bastard?" A hard yank and the cheap chain snapped, leaving a burning line against Damien's neck. The ring tumbled to the ground, and Damien lunged for it, but Coach had too tight of a grip on him.
"I didn't steal it," Damien said, his voice tight. He kept his eyes on the scrap of gold on the green of the field.
"Don't you lie to me, King," Coach said, his voice a low growl that rumbled against Damien's side. Damien couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't going to get him in even worse trouble.
They all looked up as someone came racing around the corner of the stadium, and Damien's heart leaped as Tommy stumbled to a stop, his eyes wide.
"Laurence," Coach shouted, right in Damien's ear. "Good news."
Tommy straightened up, his shoulders tense. "Sir?" He glanced over his shoulder toward the school, refusing to meet Damien's eye.
"You don't gotta worry about King's sick attentions anymore, son. We've come to an understanding." Coach squeezed Damien's neck with his arm until spots danced in his vision.
Swallowing hard enough to make his Adam's apple bob, Tommy scuffed his toe against the artificial turf. Damien waited for him to protest, to say anything, but he remained silent.
"You don't know what you're talking about," Damien said, willing Tommy to look at him. He was caught completely off guard by the meaty fist that caught him across the cheek.
"Shut up," Coach spat, getting up in Damien's face. Head spinning, Damien cupped his cheek in shock as Coach raised his fist again.
"Don't," Tommy said, taking a single step forward.
Coach froze, his face twisting into something dark and ugly as he turned to look at Tommy. "What did you just say to me?"
Tommy flinched, glancing back over his shoulder again. "I don't think you should hit him," he said, his voice quiet.
"Tommy Laurence," Coach said, his voice dangerous. "I know your daddy didn't raise a disgusting little freak. Has this fucker tainted you?"
Damien tried to pull away from Coach's grip, his arm tingling where he was losing feeling. "It's not sick," he blurted. "We're in love."
Everything slowed down. Tommy looked up, his eyes cold as he stared at Damien for a long time.
"Is that how it is?" Coach asked, his voice coming from far away. "You gonna go home and tell your daddy about how in love you are?"
"No, sir," Tommy said, his voice calm and even. "I don't know what he's talking about." He spat on the grass and turned his back, walking slowly around the corner of the bleachers.
Damien lunged after him. "Tommy," he called out, the world speeding up again. All he saw was a flicker of Tommy's sneakers as Coach dragged him back. Heart pounding furiously in his chest, Damien twisted in his grip, ducking the fist headed for his face.
He threw a clumsy punch, glancing off Coach's chin. Something heavy crashed into him from behind, and he landed hard, the air knocked out of him. Alex Miller spat in his face as he straddled him, his knee digging into the small of Damien's back.
"You shouldn't have done that, you little shit," Coach said.
Struggling onto his side, Damien shoved Alex off of him, wiping the spit off his face. "Fuck you," he gasped, blinking to clear his eyes.
He didn't have time to duck the boot aimed at his head. The world exploded in white light, his pulse ringing in his ears as he curled in on himself, trying to protect his head. Another blow to his gut had him gasping and puking, and he cried out for help.
Someone stumbled over his leg, flames shooting up his back as the impact rolled him over, twisting his knees together. A heavy weight came down on them, and he felt the dull snap all the way through his body. For a moment, there was no pain, and the world was sharp.
"Serves the little fucker right," Coach said. "Alex, go get Tommy. He should get a couple blows in, too."
The weight lifted off his leg, jostling it, and the roared through his lungs, squeezing his heart until he was screaming. Something struck his head, and the world went black.
***
"What do you mean, 'They're being interviewed now'? They almost killed my baby. I want them arrested."
Damien flinched away from the shrill tone of his mother's voice. His body felt slow and floaty, and there was a lead weight in his stomach that made him want to puke. Opening his eyes was a Herculean task, and he groaned as the light stabbed into them.
"Oh my god, he's awake. Damien, can you hear me?"
Whining as her voice made his teeth ache like radio feedback, he turned his head away from the lights. "Mom?" He tried to move his lips, but it came out as another groan.
Cold hands caught his, and he could hear someone crying. "Don't you worry, baby. You're safe now."
"What happened?" he asked, forcing his lips to stretch and part.
There was a long silence, and his head swam as he tried to blink the gritty feeling out of his eyes. "What do you remember," she said, her voice cracking.
"Tommy." Terror shot down his spine, and he tossed his head on the pillow. "I have to find Tommy."
Soft hands brushed against his forehead as she shushed him, and he flinched away from the ache of a bruise there. There were other aches, he realized, all over his body. Pain held at bay by the floating feeling of high-grade painkillers. There was beeping, too. The rhythm getting faster as he started to pant. He remembered.
"Mrs. King, we need you to move back."
"What's going on?"
"Damien, we're going to give you a mild sedative. It's not going to make you sleep, but it will help you calm down, okay?"
He tried to pull away from the impersonal hands that picked up his arms. They were too big, too rough, even if they avoided pressing on the finger shaped bruises that he knew had to be there.
Fog spread through his veins, cold and tingly, and his throat relaxed, the whine that he hadn't realized he was making fading into a sigh. There was only one thing that didn't feel like it was miles away, and he swallowed against the burn of the thin line on his neck.
"Where's the ring?" he asked, his voice hoarse and slurred. He repeated himself, his lips reluctantly shaping the sounds. "Where's Tommy's ring?"
"Here, baby," Mom said, pressing it into his hand. "They found it in the grass under..." She squeezed his hand too hard, but he didn't care. "I'll get you a new chain, baby."
"No," he said harshly. Peeling his eyes open, he blinked at the too-bright lights of the hospital room. "Send it back to him."
"Damien..." She'd been crying, her eyes puffy and red. The clock read 11:10, but there was no window to tell him if it was morning or night. He wondered idly how long it had been since he'd collapsed screaming on the turf.
"Don't," he said, turning away from her. "Send it back. It was never mine."
Chapter Eleven
Damien slammed in the back door of the station, snow swirling around him. It had barely let up all day, and the cold whipped blood into his cheeks and nose and helped mask his bloodshot eyes.
He stormed past Rafe and Kieran, playing checkers at the small table by the coffee machine. They glanced up to greet him, words dying on their lips as they watched him fling his jacket across the r
oom. It landed in a puddle a few feet from anything he might have been aiming at.
Turning his back to them so that he wouldn't have to see the silent conversation they were having, Damien poured himself a cup of coffee and downed it like a shot. His phone was burning a hole in his pocket, but he refused to pull it out and stare at his texts again. He'd read them a hundred times this morning when he was avoiding the nightmares that waited for him if he tried to sleep; they were seared into his eyelids every time he blinked.
"How's the coffee?" Lucas asked, appearing beside him.
Damien glared at him, his gut churning with nervous energy. "Tastes like shit. Why don't we ever get some decent fucking coffee in here?" He slammed his cup down hard enough to crack the handle off and watched the porcelain shards tumble to the floor. Tempted to jump up and down on them until they turned to powder, he threw the remaining pieces of the cup into the trash hard enough to shatter it beyond repair.
"Bad day?" Lucas sipped his coffee, one eyebrow raised. Kieran and Rafe cleared out in a hurry, leaving their mugs sitting on the table.
Watching them go, Damien growled under his throat. "I don't want to fucking talk about it."
Lucas nodded easily. "Alright." He glanced at the door. "Keep me posted," he said over his shoulder as he walked away.
Damien fumed, rage bubbling in his veins. He clenched his fists at his side until his arms shook with the tension. The calm that Lucas exuded made him want to scream and tear at it until it disintegrated, but there was nothing to grip, his frustration sliding over the smooth surface like water.
Stalking toward the door after him, Damien formulated a vague plan of heading to the gym. He took the corner at full speed and slammed into Mica's slender body. The omega's pointed chin smashed into his cheek as they stumbled, trying to keep their feet. It felt like a fist, and Damien flinched. They slid on the smooth concrete, ending up with Mica bracing them both against the wall, his eyes wide.