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I pushed my hands in my hoodie’s front pocket. “Yes, you’re right about both. I obviously couldn’t do the gym, and I had to eat special for that clinical trial. It made me lose weight.”
They knew about the trial. They all knew everything now since I’d just told them.
“Lying to us just like your secret fucking doctor’s appointments.” He rubbed his mouth. “So all those random classes you were missing last semester… Disappearing on weekends…”
“Doctor’s appointments, yes,” I confirmed, and he started laughing. The laughter was loud, charged, and the next thing I knew, he was in my face. He was grabbing my hoodie, and I think the only reason he didn’t hit me was obvious.
He didn’t want to hurt me. No one did, and I saw the same frustration on his face that Thatch and Wells had before they’d left. They’d been yelling, but they’d been so careful about it. They’d tiptoed around words when they never did. It was like they didn’t want to hurt me or be insensitive when my friends never gave a fuck about that.
The situation was clearly causing them to hold back, but they were all furious at me. They were, but they were restraining that fury in their own ways.
This was D’s way. He shook so bad before letting me go, but before he could get far, I reached for him.
He shouldered away, darting a finger at me. “Don’t you fucking touch me, Ares.”
I ignored him, getting his arm, and I could tell right away he didn’t know how to fight me off. He had his hands up and got incredibly stiff, but I didn’t fucking care.
“No. I said fucking no. Don’t touch me, Ares,” he gritted, but that went ignored too. I got my arms around him, as tight as I could go, and he locked up so bad. He cringed. “I said don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me. I swear to God…”
The words fell on deaf ears. I was making him deal with this. I was making him deal with me and wouldn’t let him run.
“Don’t touch me…” The strained words hit my ear the same time his hold came around me. He gripped my hoodie, his biceps shaking. “Don’t touch me, you asshole. You fucking asshole.”
Despite the words, he didn’t let go. If anything, he braced me tighter.
“How come I didn’t know? How come I didn’t fucking know?” His voice shook worse than his hold, and I found more strength when I gripped him tighter. I pulled everything I had and put it into this because I got it now. Dorian wasn’t mad at me, not really.
He was mad at himself.
He was mad at himself for not seeing, but this wasn’t his fault. I closed my eyes. “I made sure you didn’t, D.”
I hadn’t wanted anyone seeing, suffering. We’d all suffered so fucking much, and I’d wanted to handle this on my own. I’d wanted to protect them.
And I’d failed.
I’d failed so fucking much and made all this shit worse.
My words didn’t help my friend. He just continued to shake, and when I looked up, I saw we weren’t alone. Thatcher and Wells lingered by the door, but it was closed like they’d been standing there for a minute.
And how fucked up they looked.
Thatcher appeared almost worse than Dorian. He had his burly arms crossed tight, and he was barely able to keep eye contact with me. He kept looking away, his face red and splotchy. Wells didn’t look much different, and that shit gut-punched me. They were the ones I couldn’t get to shut the fuck up with their humor.
But not today.
Today, there were no jokes, laughs, and Dorian noticed they were there too. Normally, Dorian might try to hide his emotion, but he didn’t when he reached for Thatcher.
Thatch resisted, shaking his head. He locked up just like Dorian had, but D was persistent too. He got Thatch by the back of the neck and brought him over.
“You motherfucker,” Thatcher ground out at me, but he didn’t fight the hug I gave him. He got my hoodie. “You stupid fuck. What were you thinking keeping this shit from us?”
I was thinking I didn’t want to hurt them. Stupid, and I knew that now.
I said nothing in the moment, though, because I didn’t think he wanted an answer. He didn’t any more than Dorian had.
Thatch squeezed his eyes. “You better not fucking die. You better not…”
Once his voice started to break, Wells joined us. He gripped Thatcher’s arm, but I brought him into the circle. I got a I fucking hate you from him and other choice words that equally tightened my chest, but I knew he didn’t mean any of it. I knew he just needed to feel this like the rest of us were, and we finally all were.
