“You know that’s not true.” Aaron says harshly. He’s glaring at me, arms crossed as he leans against the door. I’ve made him mad. “Now you’re going to tell me what the fuck you’re talking about or I’m going to spank you again and not in the fun way.” Now he’s threatening me? Fuck him.
“You think you’re so scary, Aaron?” He’s over me so fast I spend a good few seconds blinking up at him, registering his body pressed against the length of mine, pinning my wrists underneath me. “…Wait.”
“What, Benjamin? I thought I wasn’t so scary? Go ahead. Talk your shit. Bite me. Show me howbig and toughyou are.” Ah fuck. I pushed too far.
His eyes—God, they’re so vivid and intense from this close. I can see the anger. The frustration. The fear. The thing is—I’m not scared of him. What scares me is knowing I upset him.
“You can’t—can you?” He whispers, staring into me, opening me up and pouring me out. “You want tobedominated—not to dominate.” He’s right. I may be tough, but I’m not built to be like Aaron. Most importantly: the anger is so far gone now.
“Aaron.” I’m pleading now—I sound terrified.
“What’s wrong, Button? Please, tell me what’s happening.” Time to surrender. If he leaves too—so be it. Better to get it done now, I guess.
All things in my life must hurt me at least once. Aaron Archer is no exception.
“I do the same thing every time. Something happens that I can’t handle—can’t take emotionally—and my brain does the same thing.” I don’t want to look at him anymore, so I close my eyes. “I… I can’t go into detail right now—too much is happening. Ask me tomorrow.”
“But—”
“But right now, it’s about to hit the last stage of the cycle. If I can stay mad, I can avoid it. Hit something until I fall asleep or scream at a wall until I’m too out of it to think.” I can feel the tears falling, the panic building. “Oh no, Aaron—it’sstarting.”
“What’s so bad about it?” He asks, pushing my hair out of my face, kissing away tears as they fall.
“I get sad,” My voice cracks. “I think of… oh God—all of these things I’ve seen and lost and how I was forced to live this life only to die. Why? What’s the point? What am I doing it for?” I take several gulps of air around tears, focusing on the feeling of his fingertips as they trace my neck, my face, my arms. “It’s at this stage where it’s most likely to happen. I’m most likely to die. My wrists itch so bad.”
I open my eyes and find Aaron staring down at me—his own eyes full of tears and sorrow.
“See? I told you. These thoughts—this stuff is too much for other people. It’s too much forme.” At this, he shakes his head roughly—clearing his throat.
“Please don’t… Please don’t shut me out. Won’t you at least let me try?” I don’t understand. I don’t understand what he’s striving for, and I don’t understand why he’s doing it either. So I just stare and I cry.
I cry as he kisses my shoulders through my shirt, as he picks me up and puts me into his lap. I rest my cheek on his shoulder, letting the material catch each sob, not minding the noise, the incredible volume of the cries that leave me.
I can’t stop remembering—the memories will not leave me. They dance in my head and whisper sweet nothings to me, reminding me that I was screwed before I even began. And Drew doesn’t want me.
Aaron stands, carries me into his bathroom and starts running a bath, keeping me in his arms the entire time. He sits on the ledge while it fills—holds my face, kisses my cheeks, my eyes, my nose. I can’t stop crying.
When the bath is full Aaron strips me to nothing but my button necklace—kissing my stomach, my wrists, my hands, my collarbones. Anywhere he can kiss chastely—he finds it and lays his lips. Then he sits me in the tub, the bubbles flying in the air as I settle. Stripping to just his boxers, he sits on his knees and leansover the porcelain, rests his head on my propped knee, lets a hand trail the water.
The bites I gave him are pretty bad. As he leans and his side flexes it pulls at the incisions—he looks like he’s been mauled by a dog. They’re bloody and harsh to look at. I cry harder.
“Shhh, Button—look at me.” His eyes are so soft now, so kind and full of affection. I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve any of this. “They’ll heal. And even if they do scar—that would be super hot.” That makes me laugh, a sad half-cry of a laugh.
“I… I really did fuck it, Aaron. He was a nice, normal boy before me. And IScooby-Doo’ed him. Made him think I was this bright little ray of sunshine then wore him down over time. I’m a fucking monster.” Aaron is tracing my jaw with his index finger.
“You aren’t a monster. And he did a lot of fucked-up shit too. Someday you’ll look back and see that. You’re just too close to it right now.” He’s quiet for a moment—then he asks me, “Did you love him?”
I’m watching him as he watches me and I consider lying. But I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.
“I used to think I didn’t know what love was, and that’s what I would tell him when he said it to me. Looking back now—no, I never loved him.” My hands move through the water, my tears slowly coming to an end.
“What changed your mind? Like—how do you know what love is?” I wasreallyhoping he wasn’t going to ask. Observant asshole. His finger moves to trace my ear as I stare at the tile.
“I think I loved you once.” His finger stops. “Back in 2018. Even when you ran or acted like I was a needy little kid. I think I still loved you.” I look at him now and his eyes are so wide, head lifted.
“But… not anymore?” He looks so fucking nervous. Is this another pivotal moment? Is this another path diverging—two ways I could go? Aaron’s watching me so closely, so intensely. Every breath, every twitch.
“You wouldn’t let me.” He flinches. “I think I would have loved you forever. But you made it so clear that you’d never be able to love me back, so I buried it. I protected myself.” I laugh bitterly, looking around the room. “A lot of help that was, huh?”
