10. Eli

Eli

Bloodsport

T his whole thing is a mistake.

Every move I make, every decision, every impulse. I’m making him bleed. I’m destroying him just by existing. Fuck, that’s all I do.

My parents bled because of me. They were too young for a kid. Too sad with their world.

I stare blankly at the pile of mashed potatoes on my plate.

Having already been handed a shitty deck of cards that dictated their lives, they fucked up conceiving me. I know that’s why they’re gone. I know that’s why they ran down the path that eventually took them away and left me in the dust.

My aunt would tell me so. She’d remind me almost daily that her sister was gone because of me. She struggled to make ends meet because I cost too much. I grew out of my clothes too fast. I fucked up my shoes too much. I talked too much and too fast.

Why couldn’t I just be normal? Why couldn’t I just be good ?

You’re a fuck up, Elijah. Your mom should’ve swallowed you. She said that shit to me. Before I even knew what the hell that meant. And I believe her. I should’ve been a cumshot down a throat and digested and pissed out.

Boys don’t do ballet.

Boys don’t cry.

Boys take out the trash.

Boys have sex as soon as their balls drop. Boys make girls feel better. Boys fight back. I rub my stomach, spasms making it hard to eat. Eli doesn’t do good in school because his mom did meth. Eli isn’t tall like his dad because his mom barely ate. Eli doesn’t fucking follow directions because all he cares about is himself.

Bile rushes up my throat.

“I can’t keep paying for you! Look at me! I live in a trailer! No one wants me! I’m going to lose my job because you keep getting in fucking trouble!”

I take a breath, fork clattering down onto my plate. Leon searches my face; worry consumes his features. When it’s bad like this, I want to deepthroat a barrel—shove it down so violently that I puke and then pull the trigger. It’d be quiet then. I wouldn’t be like this. No one would be used because I can’t feel anything. No one would scream at me for hiding. No one would freak out and demand answers, their voice guttural from how hard they cry. He never would have split down the middle in front of my dead eyes.

“Hey,” Leon whispers, squeezing my thigh. “What’s going on?”

“Stomach hurts,” I mumble and get up.

“There’s that pink stuff in my bag,” he tells me. “Do you want me to get it? Do you need anything?”

Fuck this guy right now. Fuck all these people.

I shake my head, escaping before he can ask me more dumb questions. I need it quiet. I need the shitty voices to stop berating me.

In the massive living room, I glance at the front door. Jorge ran after him, not three seconds after he had gotten up. Good. I’m glad he has someone. I take the stairs two at a time, forgetting which room we picked. They all look the damn same up here. Opening a random door, I go inside. I rip at my hair, slap my face, and claw at my shirt to get off me as fast as possible.

Hurrying to my bag to get some medicine, I rip it open, digging through clothes and belts and fucking drumsticks. Where is it? Boxers fly over my shoulder, a random book. I don’t read. Who stuffed that shit in here? Probably Leon. He likes those sci-fi novels that I could give two fucks about.

“UGH!” I roar, kicking the bag.

I collapse on the bed, panting and nauseous. Everything hurts all the time. I just wanted to be near him. I just wanted him to see me in a normal setting. All I wanted was for him to open up—just a little.

How do people even do olive branches anyway? How do you rebuild bridges you burned? I don’t know how.

Ever since that day, I kept trying to convince myself that he’s safe. He’ll be kept away from all of this. And because of how I ended things, he is thankfully ignorant. I can’t be with someone when I don’t know how long I want to stick around. I couldn’t promise him forever because what if I don’t wake up tomorrow?

“Fuck,” I sob into my hands.

Minutes pass while my head shrieks until my ears bleed, and I shakily crawl up to the pillows. I curl into a ball, holding my knees as tightly as possible. I can’t tell where the pain is coming from, only that it’s everywhere. It’s everywhere.

Snot dribbles onto my lip, so I swipe it away.

He wants to get married. He wants kids. Fucking kids! I remember looking at Veronica in her sparkly silver gown, dancing with her husband, with all the promises between them evident in their eyes. Did I make him those promises when I couldn’t think? Did I whisper in his ear late at night and tell him I’d make him the happiest man in the world someday?

I don’t know. I can’t remember, and I hate that I can’t.

“I’m sorry,” I say into the wet pillow. “I’m so sorry I can’t remember.”

He thinks I’m just like Oliver. I know that I’m not. But I’m not better, either. While he does the hard shit, on cloud nine all the time, I’m barely hanging on. I don’t want to be like my parents, shooting up in their shitty car the second they got their fix. I don’t want to pass out after and leave my kid in its car seat.

No. I know I’m not like that.

I’d care.

I’d remember. I’d never let it get that bad. If only I could’ve danced.

If that was my life…

“Eli?” Oh, God. I suck back the tears, throat sealing shut. “Why…what are you doing in here?”

All he sees is my bare back. He hasn’t seen my face yet. “I’ll leave. I’ll—” Fuck, I’ll what? I didn’t even realize this was the room he’d picked.

The door closes.

I hold my breath, waiting for his footsteps to recede. Instead, I hear him sigh heavily. A few seconds later, the bed dips towards the bottom. He doesn’t say anything and neither do I for a long time. I honestly don’t know how long. But I can feel a slow trickle of heat coming from him. I listen to his breathing, the soft hum of the heater kicking on.

“Is it quiet?” he asks, so softly.

“Yes,” I admit.

“Okay.”

And we go back to silence.

I think I fell asleep because something is poking my leg.

Jerking a little, I lift my head to glance over my shoulder. Shit. I’m still in his room. I glance at the window, and it’s pitch black outside. How long have I been asleep? How long has he been sitting there? Forcing myself to sit, I rub the crust from my eyes, groggy. Phoenix takes a breath, and his shoulders hang in a way that makes my chest burn.

“I didn’t know about Oli,” he starts, voice soft. “He’s what they call a functional addict. It's like he does stuff like anyone else. Never knew a damn thing.” My first instinct is to defend myself, to argue that I’m not like his little brother, but he goes on before I can open my mouth. “When things started going missing from the house—little things like my mom’s earrings or Darien’s old vinyl—we chalked it up to a busy house with a lot of bodies. Things get misplaced a lot. A reasonable explanation.”

I hang my arms over my knees, staring at his back while he speaks.

“He would stay up later, but he was a teenager. Teenagers stay up late. He started not coming home and staying with friends. That’s typical, too. But then Nyx’s phone was gone one day. Her tablet, too.” His hand curls into a fist. “It was weird but explainable. Sometimes, the twins would borrow them, especially when they still lived with my parents. Kids lost them. Simple. She got them replaced.”

I never knew this. Granted, we didn’t talk about it. I never wanted to talk about it.

“Mom’s debit card was next. She didn’t even notice it because my dad’s back started acting up at the time, and they used his for all the doctor trips. She went to fill up the car, and his card was declined due to insufficient funds. Oli stole eight grand.”

Fuck.

He rakes a hand through his hair, the strands falling back into place and hiding his face from me.

“They knew then but kept it quiet. I came home for spring break one year, and Oli had moved into my old room. He still lived at home, went out for days at a time, and stayed up all night. He’s my brother. I know him, you know?” Shrugging almost painfully like this isn’t as big of a deal as it is to him, he continues, “At that point, he had a part-time job at Best Buy. I was bunking up with him like we did when we were little. All normal. All fine. I was twenty-two and didn’t notice something was off with him. He was getting ready for work, rushing, flustered. I didn’t pay attention.”

“Phoenix,” I whisper, hand reaching for him, but I stop.

“Mom took Dad to an appointment; kids went to school because their break was a week after mine. Darien went to work, and Veronica was at Deke’s for the weekend. I left. I…left. Jorge’s grandma had died.” He sniffles. “I needed to be there for him. So I left Oli. He said he was going to work. ”

I scoot closer. I can’t help it. Why is he telling me this? Once I’m only a handful of inches away, I dare to say, “He didn’t, though.”

“No,” he breathes, throat cracking. “I was next door at Jorge’s parents’ house. I was right next door. I went to the service, hung out with my friend and his family, and came home. No one told me about Oli’s problem. I didn’t know. I didn’t know how bad it was or that it even was. ”

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out where this is going, but I don’t want to stop him. I want to hear it. He’s never been like this before.

“I found him in the bathroom. He wasn’t breathing. All this foam around his mouth,” Phoenix shakes, “puke on the floor. It was in his nose, his hair. He was so cold and pale. I didn’t know what happened, couldn’t understand why my brother was dead when he should’ve been at work.” I scooch closer, positioning myself right beside him. I want to hold his hand, but I don’t dare. “ That is how I found out he’s an addict—when I thought he was fucking dead. I thought my nineteen-year-old brother was gone.”

“My parents overdosed,” I blurt, and he goes still. A beat passes, and he looks at me with raw, bloodshot eyes. “Junkies.” Chewing my cheek and staring at his hand, I say fuck it and grab it. He doesn’t pull away. “I don’t talk about it.”

“You should.” His thumb brushes over mine, sending a shiver down my back. Phoenix doesn’t pry, and I wish he would. I wish he would ask me more, but he continues, “I changed after that day. It hurt that everyone except me knew about Oli’s problems. My parents, my siblings—I was cut out. I hate that they left me out.”

And I did the same fucking thing to him. Even if I’m not as bad as his brother, I still hid my medicine. I still lied when I was absolutely using it. Slowly, he pulls his hand free of mine and stands. I lift my chin, desperate to say the right words to him, but I have nothing.

“You need to go back to Leon,” he tells me with an exhausted sigh.

“What if I don’t want to?” His throat bobs roughly as he swallows. “What if Leon was always just a stepping stone?”

“That’s fucked up, Eli.”

“ I’m fucked up. Haven’t you noticed?” I can’t help but raise my voice.

His face twists. “Everyone has. Not just me. It’s like being stuck in a sinkhole whenever you’re around.”

I shoot to my feet, my head spinning, but I shake it off. “Good. I’d rather you be stuck with me than anywhere else.” I reach for him, but he backs away. “I’m giving you an olive branch. I’m…I’m trying here.”

“How?” he yells, the vein in his neck shooting to the surface of his skin. “How are you trying? All you’ve done is follow me around like some fucking stalker. You rub Leon in my face every chance you get, knowing what it does to me. You know . That’s not trying, man. I don’t know what the fuck that is.”

He keeps backing up, almost at the wall. “I know you still want me.”

“Don’t,” he warns, voice sharp like a blade. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

I stalk over to him, his eyes dropping to my bare chest. “I miss you,” I tell him, wetting my lips.

“He kisses me there, too,” he mimics me. “That’s how you miss someone?”

“Got a rise out of you. Can’t stop thinking about it, can you?” Fight. Fucking fight, damn it. I grab his face, jerking it down, but just before I can get my mouth on him, he shoves me back.

“You lied to my face. Over and over.” His chest heaves while he gets in my bubble. “ You left. You deleted everything. You said it was done.”

I square up to him. “And what did you do? Nothing. Fucking nothing. Not a goddamn word out of you after your little explosion.”

“Is that what you want?” he asks, laughing in disbelief. “You want words? You? Elijah fucking Hawthorne wants to talk?”

If that’s what it takes. If that’s what makes him fight. But he forgets. I know him too well. “Talk, fuck, I don’t care as long as you do something. ”

“Get out. Get the fuck out of here.” He backs up.

I follow him. My tongue is like a whip, as I say it like it is. “You don’t want me to leave. You want me to shove you back up against that wall,” I push his chest until he has no choice but to do just that, “you want me to kiss you until everything else disappears, and you want me to take it all back.” I grab the back of his head, palm his waist, and push myself into him. “You still want forever. Don’t even bother denying it.”

I roll my hips, and he grunts, holding onto his denial. I kiss his chin and drag my thumb over his pulse point. “Scream at me. Hit me,” I whisper, a million butterflies zipping in my stomach. I smell his breath and drag my nose over his stubble. “Give me something, baby. Give me something. ”

“No,” he says but grabs my hips hard. “Go back to Leon.”

“I don’t want to.” I press my lips to his cheek. My eyes flutter shut in something akin to bliss. It feels so good to be close to him. “He was my way back.”

“Leave.” His voice drops while he feels my skin. “Please leave.” God, he’s shaking.

Cupping both sides of his face, using my pelvis to keep him pinned, I kiss him. He whimpers, so I do it again and again. “Feels good,” I mumble. “Miss you.” Fuck, I’m high off this. His dick is growing against mine the longer my mouth is on him, and he keeps making those sweet little sounds. “Baby,” I breathe before pushing my tongue between his soft lips.

Phoenix snaps, just like I knew he would. He sucks my tongue, wraps his long arms around my waist and lifts me. My legs latch onto him with speed when he flips us. “I can't do this,” he says through a throaty moan grinding his cock against me.

I kiss him harder, swallowing whatever dumb words he’s going to say. I shove my hand in his hair, yanking his head back, and suck the sexy bump in his throat. “I can’t do this,” he repeats, holding me tight.

“Stop talking,” I growl and fuck his mouth with my tongue.

He bangs me against the wall like he’s trying to hurt me, but all it does is turn me on more. Ripping his lips away with speed, he thrusts his hips up one more time, my head thumping against the drywall. “I’m not doing this.” Then he drops me.

Barely landing on my feet in time, I panic while he paces, holding his mouth. “This is us, Phoenix. Right here. Sex. Physical touch.”

“I want more!” he yells, knowing someone must have heard it. “I’ve always wanted more, and you aren’t the person to give it to me. You never will be. Go back to Leon.”

And he storms out of the room, door banging with his exit.