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He seemed to contemplate whether he wanted to tell me or not. I knew the bare minimum. He’d told me he’d been in an abusive relationship, but that was all I knew. I’d never asked him for more because honestly, I wished he could forget it all, but I knew it wasn’t as easy as that.
I could pinpoint the exact moment he made his decision because he closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath before opening them again. He kept his eyes trained on the wall as he started speaking. “My parents found out I was gay when I was seventeen. My dad beat the shit out of me and then threw me out with only the clothes I was wearing. I spent a year on and off the streets, doing odd jobs, living in shelter homes.”
His voice was so smooth, so monotonous, as if he was reading me the paper and not telling me that he had assholes for parents. I bit my lip to keep from interrupting and waited for him to continue even as my hands curled into fists on his behalf.
“When I was eighteen, I met this guy. He was older than me. And rich. And he said he wanted todateme. Not hook up, but date. He took me out on dates, lavished me with meals and new clothes, and before I knew it, I was moving into his house because he said he didn’t want me suffering outside when he had a perfectly good house. He gave me my own room, and for a while, everything was awesome. I couldn’t believe my luck. And obviously, I was right to think that.”
He stopped, closing his eyes and swallowing the rest of the tea in one go before carefully placing the mug on the table. He curled in on himself again, and without thinking, I opened my arms to him in invitation. He stared at me for half a second, as if the concept of a hug was foreign to him, before shuffling closer and resting his head in the crook of my shoulder. He kept his hands buried in his own lap, and I rested my arm on the back of the couch while using the other one to rub his arm comfortingly, making sure to only touch clothed skin.
He took a deep breath as if steeling himself and continued. “It started off small. He’d ask me what I did that day, and I’d be so happy to tell him about it because I thought for the first time someone gave a shit about me. But then he started getting more controlling. He stopped me from meeting friends or going out at all. After about eight months ofdating,he took me on a vacation, and then he...decided to share me with a bunch of his friends.” His voice was almost a whisper at the end, and I had to make a conscious effort to keep my mouth shut and my hands loose. I didn’t want to scare him, but I sure wanted to hurt the motherfucker who would do something so vile to someone so beautiful. He’d been, what, nineteen? What kind of monster treated a nineteen year-old like that? Hell, what kind of monster treatedanyonelike that?
“Everything changed that night.” His voice had switched back to that disconnected tone from before as he continued, and I realized it was his way of maintaining distance from the memories. “I finally realized what he truly was like. After that, for two years, he kept me locked up in the room he’d given me so I couldn’t leave. It wasn’t like I’d known many people when I met him, and he’d already alienated me from the few friends I’d managed to make on the streets, so there was no one to care when I suddenly disappeared. He kept me cuffed to the bed, or chained to it, and always locked the door. So many times, I tried to get away, but every time, I failed. And then he’d punish me for trying to leave. So I gave up trying. One day he somehow forgot to lock it, and the housemaid opened the door because she’d been curious. She screamed when she saw me because...because she thought I was dead. But she saved my life. Then the cops arrived, and Mama D found me, and now here I am.” I could barely hear his voice by the time he finished speaking, but I could feel his heart beating wildly against my chest. I felt sick at the thought of what had been done to him.She thought he was dead.How badly had he been hurt that he’d lookeddead?
My shirt was warm and wet with his tears, and my chest felt as if it was burning.
“You’re so brave, Lu,” I whispered, and I wasn’t surprised to hear the tears in my own voice. I was angry, yes, but more than anything, I hurt for all the pain Luke had felt, for all the pain he still felt daily.
Luke chuckled against my neck, but it wasn’t a happy sound in any way. “Yeah, right. I’m scared to go to sleep. So fucking brave of me.”
I leaned back, making him move away and look at me. Slowly, making sure he knew what I was doing, I took his face gently between my palms, wiping his tears off with my thumbs. “Youarebrave, Luke. You’ve survived so much, and you’re still here, fighting and living. Of course you’re brave. You’re the bravest man I know, and I’m proud to be your friend, okay?”
Luke’s eyes filled with tears again, and he jumped at me, his arms curling around my neck, his face pressed against my chest. I put my arms around him, cradling him close. I pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head and held him as he clung to me, sobbing quietly into my chest. At that moment, I swore to myself I’d do everything I could to make sure Luke never suffered like that again. And if I couldn’t, I’d damn well make sure I was there to hold him whenever he needed me to.
I woke up to bright sunlight and a warm weight pressing against my front. It took me a moment to remember where I was and who lay on my chest. Opening my eyes, I looked down at the sleeping form of Luke and smiled. We were in pretty much the same position as last night, with his arms loosely curled around me and his head on my chest. His dark hair hid his face from me, but the deep breaths told me he was still asleep. I contemplated trying to slip away and making him some breakfast, but I didn’t want to risk waking him, especially after how little he’d slept last night. I was surprised to have rested for so long myself. Usually, I was up before the sun rose. Maybe it was because of the late night...or maybe it was because of the company that I’d managed to sleep so well.
Shaking my head, I leaned over and grabbed the book I’d been reading. Better be reading than staring at him like a creep when he woke up, right? It took me a while to get into the book since my mind kept going back to everything Luke had revealed last night. He’d suffered so much, and I was in awe of him for having survived it and reclaiming his life like he had. He’d been held captive by a madman for more than three years of his life. I couldn’t even imagine the kind of trauma he must’ve gone through during that time, and there he was, building his life back up again, trudging on despite every episode, every nightmare that hindered his progress.
As I thought about it, I realized I needed to remember that he wouldn’t like it if I let this knowledge affect my treatment of him in any way. He was still the same Luke he’d been yesterday. The only change was in me and what I knew of his past, but that didn't change who Luke was now.
I made myself focus on the words in the book I was supposedly reading. Soon, I was into the book, and I must have read for around an hour before Luke stirred. I knew the exact moment he woke up because he went stiff in my arms as he realized where he was. Before he could panic, I murmured softly, “Good morning, Luke. Did you sleep well?”
“Uh,” Luke mumbled and straightened up, sliding away from me. “Yeah, yeah, I did.”
“That’s great. I was thinking I’ll make some breakfast, and you can grab a shower if you want?”
Luke was up before I’d finished talking, and I could practically see the nervousness and anxiety wafting off of him. “Yeah, that’s a great idea.”
“Toast and scrambled eggs okay?”
Luke nodded, and I stood up, stretching my arms and cracking my neck. God, sleeping on a couch was awful.
“Scott?” Luke’s voice was a whisper, and I turned to where he was standing at the door to the bedroom.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for being there for me last night.”
I smiled softly, shaking my head. “You’re my friend, Luke. I’ll always be there for you. And thank you for trusting me and sharing with me.”
Luke smiled. It was a small, barely there tilt of his lips, but it was there, and I counted it as a win. Luke left the room then, and I made my own way to the kitchen. I had some breakfast to make.
11
Luke
Islammedthebathroomdoor behind me and leaned against it, trying to force some air into my lungs. The fact that I’d done this way too many times in the past few months wasn’t lost on me. But then again, where else could I freak out in private than in the bathroom? Last night’s dream had been horrible, more so than the usual ones. I blamed it on the change in the surrounding, though I wondered if it was because of the way I’d started to feel about Scott. It was only when we'd been on our way back from the hike that I'd realized why my heart was beating so fast. When I'd thought Scott was callingmebeautiful, I'd liked it.
I knew nothing could happen with Scott. He was the best person I’d ever known, my best friend, and now that he knew everything, why would he ever want me anyway? I was damaged goods. There was no point fantasizing about anything happening between us.No point at all.
