Possessive (Completed)

Without You

Shea wasn't at school the next day, and Simon felt terrible as he looked around and didn't see his former friend. Shea and him had a tumultuous relationship, and Simon was hurt that Shea refused to believe him when he said he didn't tell the school about his home situation, but he loved Shea, and it was strange to have him just be gone. On the other front he was burning angry with Asher for having done something so evil like that, and that was the word Simon used in his head. Simon thought Asher was evil, and he'd never felt that way about anyone.

"What are you going to do?" Kit asked Simon while they sat in the lunchroom. Asher was sat by himself far on the other side of the room. Both Simon and Kit caught him staring at their table wistfully.

"There's nothing I can do.." Simon mumbled. "Shea's gone."

"You know I always preferred that you'd end up with my brother, right?" Kit said blandly.

"Mmh." Simon hummed in agreement.

"That's because I thought you'd be good for him, but I know you better now, and I know Shea was better for you."

"Why?" Simon set his fork down on his plate to look Kit in the eye.

"Shea made you stronger. You're stronger than you've ever been before, and you can hold your own against Asher, or Shea, or anyone." Kit's voice was quiet, but his tone was serious. "Look. If you want to just let Shea go, then whatever, but if you want to fight then fight."

"Ok."

"Ok?" Kit paused. "Simon not here, you can yell at Asher somewhere more private." Kit looked nervously over to the table. Asher was already looking at them, and his gaze filled with hope when Simon stood up. Simon began a strong walk over to Asher's table. His eyes were full of fire, but last minute he changed his mind and walked from the room. Asher and Kit shared a look of confusion. Simon stormed from the cafeteria and marched his way into the main office. There was a secretary at the door in a desk by the door, and Simon made his way over.

"How can I help you, dear?" The kindly woman asked.

"Could I speak to Mr. Morrison?" Simon asked, hoping to talk with the school principal.

"Just a minute dear, he'll be right with you."

....

Garrett woke up in the bed of a much older woman. The floor of the room was surrounded in beer cans, and he was sure he had consumed at least a few of them lending to the mess. The woman he had slept with was still asleep in her bed, but Garrett sat awake. It had been his first ever time, and he hadn't even intended to go through with it, but he was so upset with himself, and then it happened, and then.. well.. he didn't know. On television the men always left before the woman woke up in the morning, but being a good southern boy at heart that seemed a little crass to him; though the whole affair was not the shinning example of good behavior. If he stayed would he have to eat breakfast with her? Would she even want to eat with him? The woman had seemed pretty ready to get down to business as soon as he got up to her room; no she wasn't one for romance. She stirred next to him, and Garrett rubbed his eyes. He'd have to decide soon, or his decision would be made for him.

Garrett felt like an absolute bonehead for going through with it. He wanted to blame the woman, say she took advantage of him, argue to himself that he was drunk and been forced into something he hadn't wanted; but the night before he had wanted it. Any amount of regret wouldn't change the fact that the prior night he'd been sober, of age, and horny, even if he was most definitely not in the right mindset. If his mother back home in Mississippi found out about what he'd done she'd lose her mind, and he shuttered at the thought. Garrett looked at his tanned hands wondering how he might scrub off the stink of sin before making his way back down south again.

"What are you still doing here baby? Get going." The women stated. Her eyes were half closed, and he knew she was probably incoherent, but still he figured he'd take her out, and leave the apartment. It was a cold day, and Garrett had never quite gotten used to the snow, so he buried himself deeper in his Letterman jacket. People walking by had smiles on their faces, and mumbled in enjoyment. Garrett, in his misery, despised them, and all of their northern privacy. In the south he wouldn't have been able to make it a few paces without being asked where he was coming from by a nosy old lady; though Garrett knew he would probably have hated to be bothered as much as he hated to be left alone.

When his father had suggested he come up to the big exciting city of Boston, it seemed like a wonderful idea, but all he wanted at the moment was good southern comfort food; nothing quite mended a broken heart like his mother's fried chicken. Garrett regretted the food after, especially during football season, but Garrett regretted most of the things he did. Finally Garrett made it back to his lonely home, his father already out for the day when he arrived. He decided it best he do the thing he'd been avoiding since he got up north, and call his mother.