HIS ALARM WENT OFF, AND HE SHOT UP OUT OF BED IN A COLD SWEAT.
The night before anything good was supposed to happen, some vivid dream or memory always ruined his morning. This time it was about Ezekiel, his best friend from New York, the now second-year college student, who ruined his last few months in New York.
Jericho rolled out of bed at noon, and lucky for Joseph, he wasn't that sore anymore, and the limp was barely noticeable now. He texted Angelica that he was getting ready, and she responded around five minutes later that she'd be at his house in 20.
Joseph had texted him back a few hours ago: 'It'll just have to come inside next time then won't it?' With one of those stupid winking emojis and he regretted even messaging him last night, honestly, what did he expect.
He showered, did his hair, and got dressed in fifteen; it was cold outside, so he put on some ripped black dad jeans, black cable-knit sweater, and his 1's. He checked his appearance in the foyer mirror for the fourth time in the last three minutes before Angelica pulled into his driveway and honked her horn.
Grabbing his house keys and phone, locking the door behind him before walking toward her lipstick red Volkswagen Beetle, and got in the passenger seat.
"Is Cade coming?"
She looked at him weirdly as he put his seatbelt on and adjusted it.
"He's allergic to fish, remember?"
Angel put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.
"Noted."
Cade didn't talk to him much outside of school so no, he didn't remember. He mumbled to himself. They were on the main road in record time because she never drives the speed limit but somehow hasn't received a ticket or been pulled over.
She played a k-pop band during the ride, Red Velvet, and sang along to the songs that played. The time it took to get to the restaurant was cut in half, but there was still a line wrapped around the building.
'Cafe Sushi' was printed in kanji with the English translation underneath it. The architecture was modern, and the colors were pretty neutral on the outside cream, brown, and black.
When he looked through the window to see the interior, it was very "mid-century" Japan. They were waiting in line for at least twenty minutes before they could be seated and another ten to be served. He told Angelica what he wanted and asked her to order for him if the server came while he was in the bathroom.
A few minutes later, he exited and saw their drinks on the table already, and she was finishing their order. Their server was an Asian guy in his 20's and a little taller than him. He sat down when he left and took a sip of his iced matcha.
"Who was that? He wasn't wearing a uniform or anything."
Angelica stopped eyeballing him when he spoke up. "You should see him up close," she bit her lip "he's cute, asked about you, though. He mentioned he was one of the managers, so I'm not sure why he's bussing tables. Know him?"
Jericho shook his head, "I didn't get a good look at him so I don't know. And, maybe they're just understaffed. There's still a line outside and everything."
A different server eventually came to give them their sushi, and the wait was worth it. They talked about school, Joseph, and other random topics until they finished eating. Jericho excused himself to the men's room again, and Angelica said she'd wait for him in the car this time.
He walked into the bathroom while their original server did; The guy's hair was pushed back with a black headband and, obviously dyed, maroon because his roots were the same shade as a lump of coal.
Jericho couldn't get a good view of his face, though, because he was in front of him, but his profile looked oddly familiar, and that was never a good sign. He fixed his hair in the mirror after washing his hands, regretting ever wearing it out because of the wind.
He managed to turn around the exact second the other guy came out of the stall. Now, he'd spent years staring one Ezekiel Tran right in the face so there wasn't any doubt in his mind that this was him. That didn't mean he was happy about it.
The same guy he spent a good long while calling his best friend. The one that kissed him one summer night, and then moved across the country without saying a damn word the next.
Jericho's irrational 14 year-old brain blamed himself for the move; he'd convinced himself that Ezekiel left because he was sick and tired of him. He even started to believe the horrible shit that his other buddies would always 'jokingly' say to him behind Ezekiel's back.
Fat-ass, ugly, they were merciless but when he told the boy about it, it was always 'it's just a joke, lighten up.' Except that only solidified the brown-haired boy's hatred for himself. If Zeke didn't care and never denied what they said, then everything had to have been true, right?
That's why he started hiding in the bathroom to skip lunch and exercised at home after school. Dog-sat, cleaned cars, and mowed lawns on the weekend so he could buy his own shit. His dad certainly wasn't going to buy him anything for his acne or hair because according to him, taking care of yourself wasn't something 'real men' did.
At the same time, that was where his father failed him, though, he had to learn everything the hard way. Learn how to cut his hair, how to shave, how to cope with the fact that he didn't like girls how other guys did. But alas, he was too busy beating him or running around with a different woman every month to care for his kid.
But, more than anything, he just wanted Ezekiel to look at him. Maybe if he changed, he'd believe him, would pick him over his other friends for once. He'd like to think that it would've been enough for the bullying to stop and get rid of the funny feeling in his chest when he was around the other.
Ezekiel was a sophomore in high school, so in Jericho's eyes, he knew everything about everything. Idolized him because he always managed to take control of any situation, was smart and kind when he wanted to be, and he cared about him way more than his dad did.
But, boy did he have a fucking temper on him, was just as aggressive as his dad, if not more. Guess he had a thing for spoiled, rich brats. That, however, made his situation one-hundred times worse when he left, though. It was just like losing his dad all over again.
He was miserable, and he packed that up and brought it to North Carolina with him. It didn't take him long to realize that idolizing Ezekiel wasn't healthy. That didn't make any of his problems go away, though.
Things started lookin up for him, though. His mom and other friends like Joseph definitely helped. He's the captain of the track team at Alamance for god-sake, but he shuts down when attention is drawn to him.
It reminds him of the harassment and the shit they used to call him. Reminds him of when no one was there to protect or defend him. That distorted version of Ezekiel was always there in some dark recess of his mind, always disappointed in him and making excuses for his friends.
"Parris?"
His voice was so deep you could almost throw a penny into it and make a wish, but that wasn't what he needed right now. He needed a fucking miracle. Jericho started feeling nauseous. Pretending he didn't recognize him wouldn't work, it's only been four years.
"It's you, right? There's no way I'm wrong."
The brown-haired boy steadied himself against the sink and sighed; this was, unfortunately, real. He wasn't going to say his name or acknowledge him back, though.
Ezekiel leaned back against the stall door's spine and gave him a thorough once over, chewing on his lip as dark eyes slimily glided over every inch of him, shoes, lingering on his face, and then to his thick afro. He reached out toward him.
"Fuck... you're prett—"
He grabbed the hand, crushing his fingers in the process and then dropped it. Cutting him off before he could say or do anything else because if this was the guy he remembered, he knew now that nothing good was ever going to come out of that mouth.
"No. I don't wanna hear that shit, and don't touch me."
Especially when they were kids, it wasn't entirely his fault though, sometimes Ezekiel would insult him, but Jericho would anger him on purpose.
It was easy considering his almost nonexistent amount of patience. He'd push him further and further, doing things that he knew would piss him off just to see what would happen.
He grinned, "Mm, it's definitely you. I can still hear my city in your voice."
He would often just walk away, something wise about being the 'bigger person in a small situation' he would say, but the other times he would get violent. And Jericho's adolescent brain couldn't comprehend why in the world he wanted Ezekiel to hurt him.
Thanks to a bit of research on the internet (literally typing in 'why does it feel good when someone hurts me?' in an incognito browser on his mom's laptop), things started to click. And, he would slowly come to terms with why he didn't mind it after a while.
It was a coping mechanism for his trauma. He was abused so often by his dad, he learned to crave the pain in order to protect himself. But that's when he noticed something had changed, some sort of psychological phenomenon occurred and absolutely screwed him over.
Jericho stood up straighter and squared his shoulders, they were around the same height now, and it made him feel a little better about the whole situation.
Ezekiel never did like a challenge, though, so he needed to be careful if he wanted to get out of this semi-unscathed. He knows he should leave, get the fuck out while he still can but he had a huge bone to pick with this piece of shit.
"Why're you here?"
The fake red-head put his hands in the pockets of his black slacks and arched a brow.
"I work here? Thought that was obvious."
Jericho clenched his jaw. He was cocky and silver-tongued, ready with a comeback or smart remark for any situation. There was always a clear power imbalance in their friendship, Ezekiel was always taking and always got what he wanted.
He knows it isn't unfair anymore; it's just scary. As much as he wanted to wring his neck, the worst part was that a small part of him missed this. They grew up together, it wasn't all bad and he didn't used to be like this. It's in the past, though.
"Sure. You know what I fucking meant, here as in Alamance?"
Ezekiel's laugh was clear and dark.
"Watch your mouth. I didn't get into Harvard, so I settled for the next best thing. Duke's campus is only 35 minutes away from here. Plus, I was bored, figured why the hell not—"
He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket and cut him off again.
"Never mind. I don't care, and don't act familiar with me either, I'm not your boy anymore."
Jericho let it slip his mind that Angelica had been waiting outside. The brown-haired boy turned away, reaching into his pocket to pull his cellphone out. When he did, he started texting her the situation, but a hand reached around and snatched the device out of his hand.
"I'm standing right here and you're ignoring me already?"
Ezekiel pouted while he looked through his phone.
"You used to be so sweet to me..."
He tried to get it back but there was a very subtle shift in the atmosphere when he tapped something on the screen and started scrolling.
"Joey T? Now what's this..."
Jericho's eyes widened, and he attempted to grab his phone again before he read their messages. Unfortunately, it was too late, he was already in the process of skimming through nearly 3 and a half years of conversation.
He watched the man's eyes narrow as he read their exchange from last night and this morning. Something told him this was the beginning of a very shitty situation.