“He gave up all pretense of being the kind, loving uncle and showed me his true monster. When I would say no or try toresist, he would hit me. At first, it was in places that could be hidden. My back, stomach, legs. One day, I said something smart, and he snapped and punched me in the mouth. We just stared at each other in shock. He threatened to kill me if I told anyone where the bruise came from. With the look he had in his eyes, I believed him. I didn’t have any friends, so it was easy enough to lie about being in a fight to the few teachers that bothered to ask. For a couple weeks, he seemed much calmer. He barely touched me, and I got away with things I normally wouldn’t have.
“I should have known better than to hope. Once it was clear I was keeping my mouth shut, it was like the chain on his demons snapped. At this point, I was sixteen. He made me drop out of school, turning me into a prisoner in that house, and things got so much worse. He delighted in hurting me. My screams increased his pleasure. When beating me stopped doing it for him, he started cutting me. I wear those scars as reminders. There is no escape from them.
“On my eighteenth birthday, I woke up to him rolling me onto my stomach before he forced his way inside me. That wasn’t anything new. When he finished, he smacked me on the ass and said, ‘One last one for the road,’ and winked at me. I didn’t understand until I made it downstairs and saw the suitcase that I’d packed the week before sitting by the front door instead of hiding in the back of my closet, ready for my escape. He held a knife to my throat, threatened to sell me to these guys that were known human traffickers if I ever told a soul, and threw me out with two hundred dollars.
??
“I used half the money to buy a bus ticket as far away from him as I could get, which turned out to be New York. I spent six months on the streets alone. I was terrified of my own shadow. It wasn’t until I met Maxine that things changed. She washomeless as well, after being kicked out by her family for coming out. At first, I refused to let her in, but if you haven’t noticed, she has her own gravitational pull. We spent the next six months hustling and saving. Her HRT and food were the only things we spent money on.
“Eventually, we saved enough to take a bus to Atlanta, where we rented this shitty studio in one of the worst neighborhoods. Max got a job at this cute little coffee shop, but I couldn’t stand crowds. There was too much risk of accidental touch. I ended up scoring an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor with this old guy named Gus. I never understood what he saw in me, this scrawny kid with a permascowl. The two of them saved my life in more ways than one.
“I resisted treatment for so long. I still feel worthless and disgusting, but Dr. Krazinski is helping. I don’t want to die, Teddy. I really don’t. But I don’t know how to live with this weight. The worst part is the scars. I can’t stand to look at myself in the mirror. They’re a permanent reminder.”
LB pauses before giving a single nod and standing. His hands tremble as he clutches the hem of his ever-present hoodie. “I’ve… I’ve never shown anyone before. Not even Max. But I want you to know. No. I need you to know. You’ve always been my other half, but I’m not the same person anymore. My reactions aren’t the same anymore. I never want you to feel like that’s because of you. It’s not. It’s because of these. The scars that he left, and that I ended up making worse.”
Slowly, he raises his hoodie, revealing his pale stomach beneath. What was once smooth, creamy skin is now a patchwork of scars. My breath catches in my throat, and it takes all of my strength to keep my hands to myself. I’m desperate to wrap LB up in my arms. To prevent the outside world from ever hurting him again. To keep him safe from himself. Instead,I clench my fists and tuck them into my armpits. My eyes sting from the tears threatening to spill over.
LB pulls his hoodie back down. “Please say something.” His words pull me out of my head, and I realize I’ve just been sitting here staring at his stomach.
“LB,” I croak. Quickly, I clear my throat before lifting my eyes to meet his. His pain and anxiety are clear to see, and I know I only have one chance to get this right. “I’m so sorry,” I begin, like an idiot, and his eyes slide away from mine as he moves to sit back down on the couch.
“No. Not like that. Not in a pity way,” I hurry to say. “It hurts me that you had to go through that. That the world has been so cruel, and that the people that were meant to protect you failed at every turn. That the world took a boy who was sunshine personified and dulled his light. I hate that I wasn’t able to be there when you needed me the most.
“But if there’s one thing that’s always been obvious to me, it’s that you, LB, are the strongest person I have ever known. You’ve been knocked down more than most people could even begin to imagine, but you keep getting back up. You keep fighting. When I see those scars, I don’t see something ugly. I see the most beautiful thing in the world—your survival.”
LB’s chest is heaving when I finish. His cheeks are streaked with tears. The tip of his nose is red, and his lip is swollen from him chewing on it. I want to hold him and never let him go, but I can’t. Instead, I place my hand palm up on the cushion between us. His gaze bounces back and forth between my face and my hand. When his palm finally touches mine, as light as a feather, I sag with relief. When he laces his fingers with mine, my eyes snap up to his. I can see the fear, but there’s also a hint of determination. He gives a minuscule nod, and slowly, I bend my fingers. Neither of us speaks.
We sit there facing each other with our fingers interlocked, heads resting on the back of the couch, just staring. I’m not sure how long we sit there, but the next thing I know, my eyes are blinking open to morning light. Cooper is nowhere in sight; there’s a flash of hurt, but it fades quickly when the smell of sandalwood and vanilla tickles my nose and soft fabric rubs against my skin. He couldn’t stay, but I’m still enveloped in him. Snuggling in deeper, I close my eyes again, not ready for this moment to end.
Everett
After I wake up the next day, I worry that I may have unintentionally made LB uncomfortable. His boundaries are extensive, and I never meant to disrespect them. I shouldn’t have worried, though. He exits his bedroom a few minutes later, takes one look at me standing in the middle of his living room, looking for all the world like a lost puppy, and bursts into a fit of giggles. This time, the tears running down his face are happy ones.
“Your…face,” he wheezes out in between peals of laughter.
I stand there, cheeks blazing, but I can’t bring myself to say anything that might bring an end to the light moment between us.
LB’s laughter slowly fades, but the spark in his eyes remains. “How about some breakfast?”
“That sounds good. What were you thinking?” I ask. The sudden hesitancy that spreads over his face takes me off guard.
“Well, I was thinking about making pancakes, if that sounds good to you.”
Warmth spreads through my chest as the memory of a day long past flashes through my mind. He’s too busy staring at his toes as they dig into the carpet to notice my reaction. I clear the sudden thickness in my throat. “Yea, LB, pancakes sound perfect.”
There’s no frilly apron this time, but the sight of LB standing in front of the stove is no less endearing than the first time. His curls are a riot, mussed from sleep. There’s still a slight hint of the impression from the pillow he slept on pressed into his cheek. His oversized hoodie practically goes to his knees. He’s got music playing, and every now and again he does a random hip roll or booty shake to go along with his spatula karaoke. I sit at the bar quietly soaking it all in.
When he sets a plate in front of me, I’m pleasantly shocked. These are a far cry from the amorphous blobs he used to serve. The pancakes in front of me are perfectly round, thick, and fluffy. They’re browned just right with the crispy edges I love, and the hint of vanilla tickling my nose has me leaning in closer. When I glance up, I notice his eyebrows are scrunched tight, and his fingers are tugging at his bottom lip.
“These look amazing, and they smell even better. I can’t wait to try them.” At that, I grab the syrup and drizzle a conservative amount over the pancakes, not wanting to overwhelm the flavor.
LB doesn’t have the same regard for the pancakes’ natural flavor as I do. He snatches up the bottle and proceeds to drown his plate in the sticky liquid. I chuckle at his ridiculousness, but it dies quickly, turning into an appreciative groan the second the taste of the pancakes spreads across my tongue.
“LB… These are perfect!” At my words, his shoulders slump as the tension releases.
“Much better than when we were kids, huh?” he asks as a knowing smirk overtakes his face.
I feel my blush as it spreads. “I mean…those were pretty great too.”
