Don’t make me puke.
You *are* one of us, even if you hate it.
I’m not telling him the whole story.
Sevan is my cousin and the best friend I’ve got, but he doesn’t know everything about me.
Like the fact that I secretly post videos of my cock online. Or that my ex has started stalking me after going increasingly batshit insane.
Because Callum is a nightmare human. The reason I had to flee. And a problem I need to deal with at some point.
And Sevan also doesn’t know that I’mnotjust here at Crimson College because I got a free ride… because the real reason I agreed to show up here is a lot more dangerous.
I have plenty of money. What I don’t have is a home, anymore. Not a safe one, at least.
There are lots of things I have to talk to my cousin about now that I’m here. But it’s going to have to wait. Tonight there are other people I’m required to see.
I’m about to meet my two long-lost brothers for the first time in our lives.
Fucking.
Kill.
Me.
I stay in the entryway a while longer. Can’t stomach the thought of walking in yet. I glance around, knowing that somewhere in this house, my two half-brothers are waiting.
But they can wait a little bit longer.
I watch like I’m studying wild animals in a closed habitat. This place looks like an old-school mansion, with itsbeautiful carved oak banisters, fireplaces, chandeliers, and probably over a hundred years of history… and yet there are undoubtedly filthy things happening in every inch of it.
I can admit that there’s something depraved about it that gives me a thrill.
A beautiful old house being desecrated by a party like this is wickedly satisfying, after all, even if I’d rather not be here.
The dim party lights strobe from purple to red and back again.
Purple, then red.
Back and forth, those same colors of an excruciating bruise.
Doesn’t matter how we grew up. I’m not one of them. You aren’t, either.
I’ve never hated it like you do. Try to have a little fun with your brothers. Even though Weston is a complete good-boy poster child.
Go fuck yourself. Love you.
Before I head inside I raise my phone up, turn on the camera, and snap a picture of myself leaning on the wall in the entryway, one hand pushing back my hair. My ex told me the only things I was good at were sex and posing for pictures. At least I can guaranteeoneof those things tonight.
Maybe both.
If some frat boy wants to lavish attention on my dick.
In the photo I’m backlit from the side with purple light, wearing my crisp white hoodie as my fingers dig into my dark hair. My newest tattoo stands out in thepurple glow. A six of hearts card on the back of my hand in fresh red and black ink.
I post the photo to Insta and it already floods with likes. On this public Instagram profile I’m Niko, with a curated stream of artistic pictures from my life.
But my explicit account on the CamboyChaos app is the exact opposite.
