18. Gabe

CHAPTER 18

GABE

"Antoni! Wait up! "

I know he heard me, but the smug bastard just keeps walking. I grab his arm before he can call the elevator, and he spins around with a glare so scathing, I'm pretty sure my balls try to retreat a little farther into my body.

"What the actual fuck is your problem?" he hisses, and I take a step back, holding my hands up in front of me. Antoni brushes off his arm like I left dirt behind.

"I just want to know if he's okay."

I spent the night driving around aimlessly, contemplating what I'm going to tell Elliot and eventually falling asleep in a random fast food parking lot. When I got back to my dorm this morning, my bed was empty, nothing left behind but the messy evidence of what I did, the smell of sex and him permeating the air. I ran into Antoni's roommate in the laundry room. He seemed a lot less grouchy than he did at two o'clock this morning, but still seemed annoyed by me asking questions. He told me Antoni wasn't home, that he left with some other guy earlier this morning. All I got was a confused stare when I asked him if the other guy seemed alright, and then he picked up his stack of clothes and left me alone with my thoughts.

I should have gotten Antoni's phone number last night so I could check in. I'm too much of a chicken shit to unblock Ellis' number. Too much of a coward to confront what I did to him.

After a couple hours of stalking the lobby waiting for Antoni to get back, waiting to see if Ellis would be with him, he finally arrived, alone. And none too happy to see me waiting for him.

"Please," I say, hanging my head. "I just need to know if?—"

"He'll live," he says in a clipped tone. He turns to walk away but thinks better of it and rounds on me. "You're a real piece of work," he says, one finger poking me in the middle of my chest. In any other situation, I'd find it amusing to be bullied by someone so tiny and unassuming, but I feel his accusations deep in my gut. "If you give a shit about Ellis, you'll leave him the fuck alone?—"

"I know, I?—"

"I'm not done," he snaps when I interrupt him. "If you give a shit about him, you'll leave him alone, but you need to make amends first. For reasons I can't quite comprehend, he's stuck on you. But you hurt him last night." He holds up a finger to stop me from interrupting again. "You hurt him physically, yes. But you did more damage when you ghosted him afterwards. You used him and tossed him aside when he needed you the most. If you ask me, you don't deserve to lick shit from the bottom of his shoes, but you matter to him. The least you can do is pretend he matters to you."

It's almost impossible to force words through the thickness in my throat. "He does matter to me."

"You have a funny way of showing it. "

My empty stomach churns, bile rising.

What have I done?

I'm so numb, I can barely feel the cold anymore. I've been walking for hours. I can't remember where I've been, but I found myself on a bench outside Ellis' dorm. His roommate got home a few minutes ago, but I don't know if he's in there. I've been sitting here for I don't know how long, staring at the unblock button on Ellis' name. I'm afraid of what's going to come up once I push it. I'm ready for his anger, but I'm not sure I can handle his pain.

I don't know how to start the conversation I know we need to have. I don't know how to say the things I need to say, how to apologize, how to take it all back. I can't take any of it back. A sick part of me doesn't want to take any of it back.

He's right that I felt something, but he doesn't know the half of it. What I feel is more than just physical. It's all-encompassing. Possessive. Obsessive. I eat, sleep, and breathe thoughts of him. I want to burrow inside him and never come up for air. I want to suffocate in his skin, to drown in his sweat and cum and blood. I want to take everything he has to give, everything he is, and use it to fuel my sickness.

But I also know I can't have him, and while my relationship with Elliot is a big part of it, it's not just Elliot. It's not even all the complications of coming out as… whatever I am. I can't even begin to process all of that.

I don't know how to be with him, much less love him the way he deserves. I hurt him, and I'll continue to hurt him. Because I'm a selfish bastard that will take and take until there's nothing left, and I have little to nothing to give back. Because I can't stop myself once he's close enough .

But what do I say to explain my behavior?

I want to fuck you senseless on an hourly basis, but no one can know.

I want to split you apart, but I don't want to hurt you.

I want you to be as obsessed with me as I am with you, but I can't ever love you. At least not out loud.

I have feelings for you that feel too big and intense for my body and brain to handle, and I don't know what it means.

I love your brother more than I love myself, and his opinion means more to me than either of our happiness.

My phone vibrates with a text notification.

Elliot: Can you check on Ellis? I haven't heard from him since he got back to campus last night.

Elliot: Mom got a notification that his HSA card was used, and he isn't answering his phone.

Shit. That means he went to a doctor, right? Fuck fuck fuck.

I can't pussy around. I need to talk to him, find out what I can do to make this right.

Gabe: Yeah, man. I'll find him.

Elliot: Thanks. See you Sunday.

Gabe: See you then.

The moment I unblock Ellis' number, my phone goes nuts. I nearly chuck it across the small courtyard outside the dorm, as if smashing it against the ground would make everything go away. Every ding and vibration from the notifications jackhammer against my nerves. Twenty-two texts since my three-word reply to his earlier messages and voicemail. I only read the last one, sent earlier today.

Ellis: We need to talk.

With a dry swallow, I type out a reply.

Gabe: I know.

I'm about to tell him I'm outside and ready to talk, even though I'm absolutely not ready to talk now. I might never actually be ready. But the front door to the dorm opens loudly, and the man himself is all but running outside. He looks upset, and he's carrying a large duffle bag. He's holding one of his hands against his chest, and—is that blood?

I'm running up the sidewalk before I think better of it. "What happened?" I reach out to grab his hand, but he flinches away from me. I stagger back like I've been shot.

"Where did you come from?" He mutters, shuffling the strap of his backpack. It looks heavy.

"Here, let me?—"

He steps away. "What are you doing here, Gabe? You just left me… like that …" His voice trails off with his last words, and I have to force myself to look him in the eye.

All the words in my head jumble together. Anything I should say caught in my throat. "I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

"Why did you leave?"

"I panicked. I thought you'd prefer having Antoni—" I rub a hand over my face. "I panicked," I repeat, my shoulders rising. "I'm sorry. "

Ellis huffs out a breath, then looks over my shoulder toward the parking lot. I follow his gaze, seeing a sleek black Audi pull up to the curb. Antoni climbs out of the driver's side and stands there, waiting. Behind his large sunglasses, he looks expressionless, but it's obvious he's waiting for Ellis.

"Why is he here?"

I look back at Ellis. He's not cradling his hand anymore, but I notice him flexing his fingers. There's blood on his knuckles, but I can't see any cuts. His hair is disheveled, and I can't help but notice that he's wearing pajama pants and the shirt I gave him after our blind bathroom hookup. I don't want to examine the weird pang I get seeing him in it. Instead, it occurs to me that he's not wearing a jacket. His arms are covered in chill bumps. I pull my hoodie over my head before reaching for his bag.

"Stop. I'm fine."

"It's cold. You're not wearing a jacket, or socks," I point out, noticing his unlaced shoes. He left in a hurry. "What happened?" I ask, ignoring his protests and wrestling his bags away from him.

I push the hoodie into his chest. He's watching me with those searching blue eyes of his, looking through me like always, like he can see through to the other side. But his brow wrinkles in confusion.

"Why do you care?" It's an accusation. A fair one. "I need to go."

"Ellis—"

"Antoni's waiting."

"Why though? What happened?" Wait. I saw his roommate come home. "Was it your roommate? Did Brad pull some shit again?" Ellis' hand briefly touches his neck, which has blotchy red marks on it. It could just be from rubbing his skin, but my mind is in overdrive .

"I handled it," he says, trying to wrench his bag from me. He won the silent argument over not putting on the hoodie, but he won't win this one. "Gabe. I need my bags. Antoni's waiting. I'm just going to stay with him for a few days until I can get an appointment with student services."

"Handled it how?" My eyes are on the door, torn between marching in there to beat the shit out of his asshole roommate and not letting Ellis out of my sight. I level him with a glare. "Did he fucking touch you?"

"It doesn't matter. It's handled. Just leave it."

He did. He fucking laid his hands on him.

"I'll bash his fucking face in. No one touches my?—"

"Your what, Gabe?" He snaps, pulling hard on his bag again. "I'm not your anything."

The hurt in his tone dims the red haze my vision is swimming in.

"You're my friend. Family, even."

Ellis cringes, and I don't disagree. After what I did with him— to him—last night, I don't deserve to be either of those things. "Go home, Gabe."

My gaze wanders to the door.

"Don't," he says firmly, his tone laced with warning. "Go. Home."

"Come with me," I say, not thinking about my words before I say them. "Take the extra room." My instincts really can't be trusted, but the need to have him close until I know he's okay is fucking with me.

"Gabe, I?—"

"Or go with Antoni. I'll stay here and have a chat with your roommate." I let him have his bookbag, but don't release the duffle .

His angry glare flashes with indignation.

"If you don't stay with us after whatever just happened, your brother will ask questions." My foot shuffles on the ground like a nervous child. "I won't… I won't touch you, or anything like that."

He scoffs.

"I won't ever hurt you again," I tell him seriously.

His eyes cloud over. "You leaving was what hurt, Gabe."

The run back to my dorm keeps me warm enough, so I can't blame the cold for the way my skin prickles as I put the key in the door and walk into the apartment. It's quiet, and the lights are off. I start to backtrack, to head to Antoni's room to demand that Ellis come here like he promised he would, when Ellis walks out of Jimmy's old room. My shoulders drop, and I take a breath.

Since Antoni isn't a huge fan of me right now, and it was too cold to make Ellis walk across campus with me, I'd helped put his bags in the backseat and said I'd meet him here. I might have taken the opportunity to turn around and have a word with Brad before practically sprinting home.

"Hey," I say, toeing off my shoes and rubbing the gooseflesh on the back of my neck.

"Hey," he replies, watching me as I nervously pace around.

"What did the doctor say?" I blurt, needing to know how badly I hurt him. Bad enough to need a doctor, obviously.

"Antoni told you?"

I shake my head. "Your brother asked me to check on you. Your mom got an alert that you used your HSA card. "

"Shit. I guess that makes more sense." I don't know what that means, but I get distracted by how gingerly he sits down on the couch, and I hate myself a little bit more. "I'll let Elliot know I'm okay," he says, pulling out his phone. He frowns down at his phone, probably noticing that I'd finally messaged him back. Another blunt, useless, minimal word response.

His phone lights up and vibrates almost immediately. He groans and puts the phone to his ear, chatting quietly with who I'm assuming is his mom, until I hear the words, "Fuck off."

"It was nothing. I'm just a wimp, I guess." His gaze flicks up to mine, and I can't help but be desperately curious about what he's telling Elliot. He rolls his eyes, probably reading my worried expression. "Yeah, well, I've never punched someone before," he says, grinning sardonically, but then his expression goes back to annoyed. "Who told you that?" He looks back at me with an accusatory glare. "He said he was going to leave it." He scoffs. "Yeah, you're right. I should have known better. Well, let me go so I can yell at him." His lips quirk a bit at whatever Elliot is saying, and he meets my gaze again. "No promises."

It's silent for a moment after he hangs up. "You went back." It's not a question, it's a statement. An accusation.

I shrug, because I don't have a defense outside of hell fucking yes I went back . That bastard is lucky I didn't give him a broken dick to go with his broken nose. Especially after I got more information from him about what happened than I did from Ellis.

As soon as Brad opened the door and saw me standing there, he squealed. He could see well enough through his two already blackening eyes that I wasn't there to fuck around. It didn't take much for him to start making excuses and whine that he barely touched Ellis, that he was the one that was assaulted and should press charges. The first slur that slipped out of his crazed rant had me reaching for the collar of his shirt. I threw him against the wall, hard, and he word vomited ever ything in between pleas not to hurt him and promises that he wouldn't fuck with Ellis again. I laughed in his face and let him know under no uncertain terms that he won't be so much as looking in Ellis' direction, or campus security will be getting an anonymous tip about an attempted hate crime that was more than likely caught on security cameras.

Is it fucked up that I chose not to call it in because I knew that would mean Ellis would have his dorm to himself and no longer need somewhere to run to? Probably. Definitely. I avoid thinking about it too hard, because it makes zero sense to be so invested in having him stay here when I'm determined not to give in again.

"Tell me what the doctor said."

He blushes and looks down at the floor before clearing his throat. "I'm fine. But I need to ask you about your, um… status. When you last got tested or whatever."

Oh. Oh.

"Shit, Ellis. I didn't think—" Fuck me. I bury my face in my hands before pushing them back through my hair. This is worse than awkward. "I'm clean, but I'll send you my last results, and I'll get tested again on Monday."

He nods, not meeting my eye.

"I made an appointment to talk to student services on Monday. Hopefully, they'll have some options for me."

"You can stay?—"

"I can't, Gabe." He meets my gaze, eyes glassy and full of pain. "I can't stay here. I can't sleep across the hall from you, breathe the same air as you, shower in the same space as you. Not after everything we've done. Not after realizing that everything I've wanted since I was ten years old is right there in front of me. And you might think it's pathetic, but?— "

"I don't think you're pathetic," I say, my tone low and hurt.

He's right, I know he is. I'm not sure I can suffer all those same things, knowing that I can't have him.

I back away, giving him space. But it isn't enough, I know it isn't. I grab my keys and mumble about going down to the gym.

Instead of working out, I sit in the sauna, remembering the night that my lies finally caught up with me.