Whatever It Takes {MxM} *COMPLETE*

{21} - Panic

That would be painful.

Reaching into the pocket of his blazer, he pulled out an envelope and slid it across the bed towards his son. "I brought this with me in case you might have needed some kind of proof, son." he said softly. "I...I know you love your father and he is all you know but this here envelope has irrefutable results. You are my son. You are a Brookoff heir."

Andre straightened from his hunched position, his eyes flashing molten lava, making the old man jump off the bed with a yelp. Good god. Rafe was right. He can spit fire from his eyes!

"I want no father." he seethed through clenched teeth as he let his legs fall flat on the bed, his eyes pinning Nathaniel in place. "You are something I can most happily live without. Fat lot of good the first one did. I won't be substituting one monster for another. You will not get a chance to hurt me too!"

The patriarch sputtered disbelievingly at him even as he moved forward, wondering why the hell he would say all of that with such venom lacing every word. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, his own eyes flashing. "What happened to you? What did he do to you? Tell me right now!"

Andre stood from the bed and crossed the room to approach the window where he pressed his forehead to the glass and sighed as if in defeat. "Telling you about things that happened long ago will change nothing now." he said. "What good will it do but haunt me once again? He is dead. Leave him that way."

Strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind, engulfing his body, almost making him panic and thrash about but he calmed when he felt Rafe's soft lips press small kisses to his neck. "Please don't cry baby." he whispered into his ear, turning him so he could press him to his chest.

Funny, how he didn't even realize he was crying till Rafe pointed it out. Stupid tears. They did nothing to assuage his fears or his anxiety in any way. They made him seem weak. Something he always hated feeling.

Burying his face into his love's warm chest, he willed the tears away even as he tried to force down the rising, melding voices that coalesced into one and shook him with its venom, with its hatred. The same one he always wished he could drown out, to no avail.

You're a worthless faggot, is what you are. You deserved the beatings they gave you at school and more. What did you think? That they would appreciate the fact that you ogle them while they change in front of you? You sicken me! You are no son of mine.

"Stop it. Sh-shut up! I wasn't looking at them there. I don't like boys. I like girls!" he shouted suddenly, rearing back and slapping Rafe so hard, his face was forced to the side with the momentum of the blow. "Stop calling me that. Stop. Calling. Me. That!"

"Andre?" Rafe called out, gripping his shoulders and shaking him gently. "Andre, what's wrong? Why are you saying that? You're fucking scaring me. Snap out of it!" His eyes were lifeless and wide in a face gone too damn pale for his liking. "Baby, speak to me."

There was a roaring in Andre's ears, a cacophony of sneered threats and whispers that resounded in his head and made him cry out when the hold on him became too tight to bear. He didn't want to be punished again. It wasn't his fault his eyes had strayed.

He only liked girls!

Pushing free of the grip on his body, Andre looked around the room in a panic till he saw the open door in the corner and almost sobbed with relief as he bolted towards it and slammed it shut behind him before flicking the lock and scurrying to the small space beneath the sink for added safety.

Rafe, still confused and shocked at the sudden change in Andre's behavior, could only stand there and gape at the now closed door in which he'd run into like a seasoned track runner on crack. "What the fuck was that?" he whispered to himself. It was so weird and sudden. He seemed to be reliving some sort of memory.