Desolation Row [MxM]

Chapter 13

His eyes weren't as blue, either. The color was muted, sort of, compared to how they usually were. I didn't like it. He didn't look right. He didn't look healthy.

I shook my head though, pulling him back down to press our mouths back together.

Roughly a month later, I was back to going out with Brielle and Joel again. I was healing up fairly well, though it'd probably be smoother if Joel and I managed to keep our hands off each other. It was January, and our new year was spent high and in bed for most of the night.

The weekend meant another party, but this one was smaller than they usually were. There was less alcohol, more drugs, and just about everyone that populated the house was high off something.

Joel and I were sitting together on the couch, with me leaning back against his chest as we passed a joint back and forth. We'd been talking just about all night, which was unusual for us. We rarely talked more than we needed to, preceding or following something sexual.

“So why'd you move to Arbor Heights, of all places?” he asked me. I shifted against him a little, pressing back in frustration when I couldn't feel the warmth off him I usually did.

“My parents were in a car accident, and they didn't make it. So I had to move in with Charlie, since he's my uncle and the closest family member,” I answered.

Joel hummed quietly, taking a long drag off the joint before blowing the smoke back out of his mouth in a heavy exhale. “My dad walked out on my mom, as soon as he found out she was pregnant. And the guy we're living with now just uses her for sex.”

“That's terrible.” I murmured, frowning. I felt Joel shrug behind me.

“I guess. Keeps her busy from worrying about me though. And the guy bought my car. Plus, he occasionally keeps me stocked with whatever I want.”

I snorted at that, rolling my eyes as Joel passed me the joint. “If Charlie knew where I was right now, he's be pissed,” I mentioned, putting the object to my mouth.

“Charlie's just being a little bitch because you're doing what you wanna do instead of listening to him.”

I hummed, blowing smoke out of my mouth and watching it tumble through the air, making randomized patterns before it dissipated. “I'm failing everything,” I mumbled.

“Join the club.”

“I've never gotten anything below an 'A' before.”

“First time for everything.”

I shifted uncomfortably at that. I didn't want to fail. I missed my perfect grades. All the one-hundreds I'd get all the time. How easy everything seemed, because I stayed in school and paid attention. So close to being valedictorian for our class.

Now I was nowhere near that. I was near the bottom of the class. Mom would've killed me. She knew I could do better. And what about my behavior lately? She'd probably be rolling in her grave. She raised me better than this. Do good in school, say no to drugs, the whole nine yards.

My stomach started churning, and I tensed up as Joel took the joint out of my hands and wrapped his arms around me, kissing at my neck. “What's wrong, baby?”

It didn't feel right though. It didn't feel how it used to feel, all warm and comforting. This just felt constricting.

“My mom would be furious right now,” I managed to get out. “She'd kill me if she saw me like this.”

“Baby, your mom's dead. I don't think there's a whole lot she can do.” Joel snorted.

For some reason, that did it. Joel's words just snapped something in me, and I glared harshly as I pushed him off.

“Hey, what the fuck—” he complained loudly, but I ignored him in favor of pushing through people, trying to find Brielle. To my luck, she was in the kitchen with Austin, and I walked over to her.

“I need to borrow your phone, please,” I told her. She shrugged a little, passing her cigarette off to Austin before digging around in her pockets. When she finally found it, she nodded a little and handed it over. I briefly thanked her before I typed in the only number I'd bothered to memorize, holding the phone to my ear as it rang a few times.

“Hello?”

“Charlie? It's Victor. I need you to pick me up, please.”

It was quiet on Charlie's end for a second, then some shuffling around before I heard his voice again. “Where are you?”

I wasn't able to give him the exact address, but after I described the house and the surrounding area, he said he knew where it was, and told me he could be there in twenty minutes. I chose to go outside and wait for him, keeping my arms wrapped around myself to fight off the cold. I could smell things like vomit, and weed, and I just felt so disgusted as my hands shook.

I saw Charlie's car a little while later, and as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle, I walked over and hugged him tightly, pressing my face into his shoulder. I couldn't say anything, even as Charlie rubbed my back and tried to ask what happened, and what was wrong. He lead me to the car, where I slid into the passenger seat and sat still.

“Victor? Vic? Come on, talk to me, kiddo,” he said, trying to get me to look at him. I stared straight ahead, through the windshield at the house. We sat in the driveway still, Charlie making no move to drive until I spoke to him, probably. I could see people wandering around the yard, high or thoroughly hammered.

Why did I do this? What part of me thought this was a good idea, that this was what I needed? I knew better than that—I'd been raised better than that.

I couldn't pinpoint when I started crying. One second I was watching the drunken, stumbling teenagers, and the next I was curling in on myself, sobs wracking my body as Charlie hugged me again through the awkward position.

“Charlie, I'm, I'm—so—I'm so sorry, oh my—God,” I struggled to speak through the tears and hiccups, the force of it being physically painful. It was like when I'd just woken up from the car crash, with all the pain in my chest and my sides. “I don't—I don't wanna d-do this—anymore, please!”

“Shh, Victor, calm down, you're okay.” Charlie shushed quietly, his voice wavering as he spoke.

“N-no I'm not! I need help—I—please, I need help, I c-can't—do this anymore! I'm so sorry.”

The crying got the best of me after that, anything I said coming out completely incoherent. Charlie kept hugging me tightly, rubbing my arms and alternating between saying “you're alright” and “we'll take care of this”.

“Mom would kill me,” I hiccuped after a while. “She-she'd be s-so ashamed and, and, I let her down, beca-cause I'm so f-fucking stupid!”

“No, Vic, you're not stupid, come on—”

“Yes I am!” I might've screamed, and I wanted to stop. I wanted to stop crying so much, but I just couldn't. “I'm so stupid! If-if I wasn't even, even born then sh-she wouldn't've died! They'd still be here! They wouldn't have t-to go buy a stupid fucking cake!”

“Victor! You're not stupid, stop it.”

“I'm so sorry, Charlie...”