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I tuck the covers around him again and brush the hair off his forehead again, just because I like to feel the warmth of his skin. My throat tightens when I think of how I sent him out of my room. He was pissed off at me. Did I hurt his arm when I grabbed it? I want to look, to check for bruises, but it’s tucked under the covers. I don’t want to wake him.
I go around the bed and sit on the opposite edge, cover my face with my hands. I’ve been fucking with him. Christ. I just…toy with him. Because he’s such a good boy. Because he seems so perfect.
I wanted to break him.
I should go down to the bridge and tie a rope around my feet and fucking jump off. What if this is my fault? I upset him. I’ve been…hurting him. Every night. Yeah, I suck his dick and make him come, but it’s all twisted up and shitty. I make sure it’s shitty for him. So he can’t enjoy it.
I can’t move for what feels like a long time. As I sink into it. As I breathe it in and choke on it. As I ache under the weight of my own sadism and hurt from knowing I hurt him. I hurt his arm, I hurt his feelings, and I’m so damn scared he’ll die or something. Sometimes seizures kill you.
I don’t know what to do.
I think of another Ezra who might cuddle up to him now. Maybe the same one who would have treated him nice and been his friend—told him, if nothing else, that I’m an ally. That I’ll keep his secret. That it’s all good.
But I don’t think I know that person. Maybe in the past…
But not now.
Two
Ezra
September 7, 2017
I was wrong about this place.
Fuck me.
Help me.
Please-
Three
Josh
I’m gulping water from a straw, swallowing as fast as I can. I’m so fucking thirsty. When I feel like I’ve had enough, I open my eyes and see…Ezra.
Pretty Ezra. Sort of sunburned. His eyes on mine are intense. It makes me feel confused. I look around, noticing…I’m in his room? I don’t remember falling asleep in here.
“It’s okay if you don’t remember.” His low, soft voice comes to my ears like a surprise. I realize he’s crouched beside his bed, where I’m lying on my side.
I’m in his bed. Under his covers.
Something bad happened. I turn the dread over in my mind, seeking out what it was.
“We had…an argument.” Ezra takes a breath, as if to fortify himself before he adds, “After that, you got a shower. And in there, you had a seizure.”
My spine stiffens as my sense of what the fuck collides with what you might call memory. I don’t feel surprised to hear I had a seizure, but when I try to visualize what happened, I just…can’t.
My whole head feels sore and heavy. Like there’s a black hole drilled between my eyebrows.
“Do you remember anything about it?” he asks. “Your mom said you usually don’t.”
I don’t have seizures. Anymore. I lift my eyes open again, alarmed that I can’t get my mouth to say it.
“It’s okay if you’re out of it,” he says. “I’ll be here with you. So don’t be worried.”
I open my eyes again to golden sunlight. My eyeballs throb as I glance around the room. Ezra’s room. I had a seizure. I squint at the bathroom door…look over to the bedroom door. That one’s shut. Where is he?
Then I feel the mattress shift. I cut my eyes to my left and realize Ezra’s in bed beside me. He’s on his back, like me, and he’s holding a paperback above his face.
“What are you reading?” My voice is fucking rough and raspy. I feel him startle before lowering the book to his bare chest.
“Fuck.” His lips twitch in a small smile. “You snuck up on me.”
It’s such a stupid thing for him to say. Makes me smile as I close my eyes for a second. It’s a struggle to drag them back open.
“I’m awake now.” I get a deep breath, and he climbs over my legs to pick up a glass with a straw in it.
“Water,” he says, holding it up to my lips.
I smirk, and I want to take it from his hand, but my whole body feels like I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills.
I drink some of it, realizing as I do that Ezra saw me in a seizure. That thought makes my throat feel stuck, so I stop sucking from the straw. I shut my eyes and fight the painful sting that builds behind them.
Fuck, why did this happen?
I outgrew this.
I cover my eyes with a hand and try to breathe deep, but I can’t. I don’t feel right.
Ezra’s moving over me. He’s climbing back up on the bed. Fuck, I wish I could get up. I should try to.
