High School Hit List (CLIQUE BAIT)

bonus 2 | runaways

AN: OMG GUYS THANK YOU FOR GETTING HIGH SCHOOL HIT LIST TO #4 IN TEEN FICTION!

to celebrate, here is a little bonus. i really hope you enjoy it, i've been wanting to write some lgbt work to diversify my writing a little. please give me all the feedback you can! love you all sooo much,

Ann💕 

   Zachary Plympton let his breathing fall quiet enough to hear the movement of branches in the night. When he kept his movements still, he could hear his neighbors, laughing and toasting over a Sunday roast. He could hear the clatter of his mom placing the bourbon bottle on the counter two rooms down from his.

   He could hear the smooth purr of the Mercedes SLR pull up on the curb outside of his house.

   And that made him incredibly nervous. Because what on Earth would Max be doing at his house on a Sunday night? On all of the days he could crave his presence, it was the day he'd spent his morning sitting in church, shifting uncomfortably in his pew as he wondered who would still love him if they knew the truth. It was the day his family had gathered for lunch, only for them to fall apart again once the conversation grew heavy.

   It was also the day that he missed Max most, and he couldn't tell if that made it better or worse.

   Zach waited, and waited, the silence growing long after the engine of the car cut off. His body was coiled in anticipation for the doorbell to chime, for his mother to call out to him that his friend was here. But it didn't come.

   Instead it was a gentle knocking on his window, a small question waiting patiently to be answered.

   He rushed to the glass, seeing Max smiling sheepishly on the other side. He hoisted the window upwards and held out a hand, Max's folding warmly around his as he pulled him through the window. 

   "What are you doing?" Zach asked, his voice laced with a comfort he had been yearning for all weekend. "Why are you coming through the-"

   Max's finger rose to fall on his lips, a smile on his own. "Shh, I don't want your parents to hear."

   "Why?" Zach whispered. His parents knew he and Max were best friends. They just didn't know they were more, and he hoped they never would.

   He'd dreamed they had before, and he lived with the debilitating anxiety on a regular basis. His father would get home from work, and ask him how his football practice went, and then he'd grab a knife from the kitchen and hold it to his throat.

   My son isn't a homo. Boys don't like boys. I won't let God look down on this home because of your twisted brain. You're completely fucked up. Not my son!

   And then, it wouldn't matter if his father had hurt him physically or not, because the pain was more than he could ever imagine.

   "Because, we're going," Max said, his face softening when he saw the way Zach tensed at his touch. "What's wrong?"

   Zachary shook his head, his gaze falling to the floor. "It was just, Dad was violent today. It's fresh in my mind, you know? I just keep thinking how it would be if he found out about..."

   "Hey," Max said, pulling Zach closer and cradling the back of his head with his palm. 

   To everyone at Arlington College, Max was fast, rough and boisterous. He was womanizing, charismatic and carefree. To Zach, Max was slow and tender and gentle. He asked the simple questions that would clear complications. He'd use his words to rub the tension from Zach's shoulders. He'd let his lips press against his own in a way that set his mind free.