There’s no heat behind his words though, instead he sounds sort of desperate and raw. I can still hear other people yelling, but Silas is filling up my vision.
“You really fucking scared me, you asshole. Let me see your hand,” he says, reaching for it with one hand while the other comes up to cup my face. But over his shoulder I can see Kyle being dragged away by Ford and Gunnar, red-faced and trying to buck off their grip.
His expression sets in rage. His eyes meet mine in between cries of, “Let me go, motherfucker,” and he pauses for a split-second. When he does, I become acutely aware of Silas’s hand on my face, and feel my cheeks flushing even more with adrenaline and something too close to shame for comfort.
No. I will not be this person. I will not care what he thinks of me, or deny how important Silas is in my life.
I can’t.
Dad looks grim as he yells over the guys to me, “Jesus Christ, you interrupt one fucking blowjob and suddenly the gay gestapo shows up to get you. I didn’t know you were so sensitive, boy.”
Flooded with adrenaline, all I can think of is getting him away from me and away from Silas. I lurch toward him, tearing Silas’s hands from me and reaching out like I’m going to restart the fight all over again.
The rage feels better than fear, but it makes my mind white-out.
“You fucking cocksucker, don’t make me kill you,” I yell, balling my fist to throw another punch just as someone snags my body and pulls me backward again.
A small, buried part of me winces.Cocksuckerwas my favorite curse word for so long. I never meant it as a slur or used it against queer people, it was just something you said. Eventually, I realized that it was a shitty, garbage-person thing to do, andhow meaningless all my excuses were, and broke the habit. It hasn’t come out of my mouth in years.
Apparently, I’m reverting to all the worst parts of myself I’ve buried. I can’t think about that now, though. Not when Kyle is almost within reach.
He looks taken aback by the insult though, which I don’t think I’ve ever called him before. Of course he would take extra offense. He’s just that asshole.
“Boy, I will wash your goddamn mouth out with soap if you keep talking to me like this.”
It’s a ridiculous thing to say. I’m not a little kid anymore, surely beating on him is worse than insulting him, and we’re both being held apart by bigger, stronger men who are shouting to each other over our conversation.
But the threat hits me hard. Again, I feel like a toddler, about to be dangled upside down over a sink in a public restroom by my dad while mom shoves cheap pink hand soap in my mouth, getting waterboarded as foam streams from my lips and I scream to passing strangers who don’t care, because for some reason, this is normal.
The surge of adrenaline is enough for me to pull one arm out of someone’s—maybe Tristan’s?—grasp and land my own open-handed hit on Kyle’s face, before we’re both wrenched painfully apart.
“That’s it, outside!”
I think it’s Gunnar shouting. It’s all too much of a blur.
I stumble over my feet until I’m practically picked up and carried out to the gravel parking lot. The rush of cold night air slaps a little sense into me, and the world around me comes more into focus.
Kyle has blood running from his nose and mouth, and he’s making unintelligible growled threats to everyone around him, all while still looking me in the eye. Ford is pinning him to theground with his arms behind him now, but it looks like more effort than you would expect. Kyle must really be putting up a fight.
Something in me withers and dies, right in that moment. All of this over what—a blowjob? Because he hated me so much even before he knew I was queer, and this is what pushed him over the edge into true, boundless violence?
If they let him go, would he try to kill me? Maybe that’s what he’s always secretly wanted. Freeing himself from the burden of my existence.
“Christ, Cade, will you give it a rest?” Tristan’s strained voice is right in my ear, and he has both of my arms pinned behind my back pretty successfully now, holding me in place. At least I’m not getting shoved to the ground.
Well, fuck him. And fuck Kyle. I need to… I need to fight for Silas. Show him I’m not ashamed.
“Fuck you, bitch!” I yell at my dad, summoning some kind of bravado while I feel blood pooling in my own mouth as well. “You wanna interrupt us again? Maybe you’ll see me taking it up the ass. I’ll bend over for him every day and still beat you to the fucking ground. We know exactly who the real man is here. You can’t even take care of your own fucking family, you have to run away and make me do it. Touch me again, and I’ll fucking kill you. Don’t even look at Silas. Our gay assess are done with your fucking shit.”
Technically, I’m bi. And Silas is… Silas. Probably demi, but we haven’t talked about it. But none of that sounds as punchy.
I swell with pride at my little takedown, and Kyle finally seems to have given up fighting against Ford. He’s not even looking at me anymore because his face is in the gravel.
My pride comes crashing down when Silas gets in my face again, grabbing me with both hands and holding my face still.
I think there are tears on his cheeks.
“Cade, fucking stop,” he says, sounding angrier than I ever would have expected. “Shut the fuck and stop. You’re going to hurt someone.”
