Chapter 12 - Hunter

18 YEARS OLD

D arkness has been my friend lately, at least for the past few months, while Ollie and I have been doing this little secret dance where we pick a room for the night and stay in it—together. It's not that different from what we were already doing for the last eight years, but now it's filled with whispered sweet nothings and stolen kisses. I don't let myself think too much about what it means.

All I know is that he needs me, and I need him.

We're eighteen now, in our senior year of high school, and the guys are fucking vultures in search of fresh meat. I turned my back for one fucking period— one —and they were all over Ollie. I usually protect him from them, and most people know not to fuck with him. Only I can't be everywhere at once, and it sucks. For him and me. Especially since I'm the one having to watch him lick his wounds, or more realistically, I'm the one having to watch him not get out of bed for days every time he gets bullied for being gay. I don't even have to ask him what happened anymore. I just take one fucking look at him, and I know it was them.

Crossing the bathroom, I wrap my hand around the doorknob to his room and turn it quietly, trying to make sure not to make a sound so as not to wake up our parents. I don't even want to think about what they would say if they saw us spending every night wrapped up in each other's arms. Shit, I can barely bring my own damn self to think about it.

I'm not gay.

With that thought in mind, I pull back the covers and crawl into bed behind Ollie. His body immediately melts into me as I wrap my body around his, pulling him against me as close as he can get—as if I could protect him from everything this way. My forehead rests against his back, and I press my lips against his warm skin, closing my eyes as I take in his vanilla scent. Fuck, I missed him today.

"What happened, Ollie?" I whisper, then flip him onto his back. As if on instinct, he spreads his legs for me, and I settle between them. Sometimes, I can't help noticing how perfectly we fit together.

Ollie's hands trail up my sides, his warm fingertips making me shiver as they brush against my bare skin. My forearms come to rest on either side of his head, and when I move just right, the moonlight streams in through the blinds and illuminates his pretty face. Except this time, he has a cut on his swollen bottom lip.

"Who the fuck did that, Oliver?" I growl, my eyes on his lips.

He flinches. "I hate when you call me that."

"Sorry, Blue," I whisper, my fingers getting lost in the soft strands of his hair. "Who hit you?"

"Manny." Ollie laughs, shaking the bed, but I don't join him. "He called me an emo fucking faggot."

"Fuck what he says," I growl, turning his head so he's facing me once more. "He's a nobody."

"So am I." Ollie shrugs. Not to me. "Plus, he's right, you know? I am a faggot. And whatever else he called me."

"No." My hackles rise, and I take in a deep breath, trying my very best to calm myself. "You're sunshine in a bottle. Even if you do dress emo as fuck."

"You still love me, Green?" Ollie whispers, and I look into his icy blue eyes, dipping my head until our noses brush. His warm breath is against my lips, and I close my eyes, fighting the urge to lean in and?—

"So much," I whisper back, trying to keep myself in check. "Nothing will ever change that."

"Not even me being gay?" Ollie asks me, a hint of vulnerability in his voice, as evidenced by how it breaks on the last word.

"Nothing. Will. Change. That."

"Promise?"

"Promise, Blue." Gazing into his eyes once more, I smile. "I got you."

He returns the smile. "I got you back."

And I do have him. He's my everything.

I just need to figure out what that means for me.