Warnings ⚠: Child Abuse, Rape, Violence, Religion, Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Use of Slurs, Homophobia, Bullying, Mention of Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Actions, Gun Use
Josiah's P.O.V.
-Friday, October 8th-
At some point in the middle of the night, Damien fell asleep.
I wasn't really sure what to do. I was too scared to sleep.
I've got my life, and more importantly, his happiness and future on the line here...
No one has really done anything but yell and shove yet. A part of me hopes they don't push it any further, but...
Another part of me feels like I should be getting punished for involving myself in this. And no matter how many times I ask Damien if he's mad, he always says no.
But he should be upset.
He should do something about it.
I watch him start up the car.
He's gotten used to putting his seat belt on. Thank God.
"Damien." I get his attention.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"I love you too."
It kinda hurts, but... It also feels so, so good.
It's nice that I believe him. It's also really strange...?
I don't know.
"I love you...more." I say carefully.
He laughs, "No way. I love you more."
"I don't think it's possible for that to be true. You have no idea...how much I love you."
"Then tell me."
"I just did. I said I love you more."
"No, tell me why. You can't claim you love me more, then have no evidence to back your claim."
"What sort of evidence?" I ask.
"Anything to back your claim, of course. The jury has to deem it worthy evidence, but it can be anything."
"There's a jury...?"
"Yeah. Me. I'm the jury, and the guilty party, and the judge."
"I don't think that's how it works, but okay. My evidence is that I said it. Because I said it, it is true."
"Hmm... That's interesting, but the jury doesn't think that's enough evidence. Come back with your claim tomorrow, and have more evidence, or they won't believe you."
"You don't have any evidence to prove otherwise. You have to prove that I'm wrong, not that there's not enough evidence."
"Nah. I'm the judge, so there's not enough evidence to convict, also me, the guilty party. I'm going to have to dismiss you from this courtroom."
"We're...in a car, Damien."
"Nope. Courtroom. Use your imagination for once, Josiah."
"I don't have one. I never learned that particular skill. It's the one thing I'm not good at." I claim.
"The one thing? Okay, Mr. Almost Perfect. At least I have ONE thing I'm better at than you."
"Well, yeah. You learned imagination as a kid. Great skill. Congratulations. If only you would have put the same effort into science."
"Wow, okay. Shots fired."
"Don't take it the wrong way. I'm happy you're a dumb-ass. Because our relationship is based off of tutoring. You saved me because tutoring."
"Right. Tutoring. I definitely only wanted tutoring when I saved your ass from Logan, like, five fucking times."
Logan...
Fuck.
"I think it was three times, but yeah."
"No. Fifteen times. Then you devoted your life to me and said I was your hero and that you would follow me to the end of the earth. You're just not remembering right."
"The follow to the end of the earth thing was you, dummy. And I know this. Because I couldn't have imagined it." I chuckle.
"So, you really know everything other than imagination? Say something to me in Swedish right now."
"Jag är kär i dig." I say.
"The fuck?"
"I said I'm in love with you. You wanted me to say something in Swedish." I remind him, "I am Swedish."
"Say something in Japanese."
"愛してるよ."
"...What?"
"I said. I love you. In Japanese. What do you want from me?"
"Why do you know I love you in Japanese and Swedish? How many fucking languages do you know? Nerd."
"I don't know them that well. I'm roughly conversational in...like...four, and fluent in English and Swedish. My house had a bunch of language books. I didn't have toys; I had books."
"Which ones don't you know?"
"Which ones don't I know? A lot. I'm learning French right now. I think I'm almost conversational."
"Okay, which ones do you know. Swedish, Japanese, French, what else?"
"Spanish and German. Those are pretty good."
"Then say I love you in Dutch."
"Dutch...isn't the same. I don't know for sure."
"Ha. I win."
"Once I'm done with French, I'll learn Dutch. Just out of spite."
"Of course you will. Have fun learning an entire language out of spite. I'll be doing something useful, like curing cancer and also being a billionaire and owning a very big company... Oh, and being president, of course."
"Well, once I know all the languages, I'll be president of the world."
"Right, then I'll take over the world with America. So, ha."
"You said you would follow me. You'll be the first lady of the world. Once we get married."
"M-Married?"
"Are we...not doing that?" I ask softly.
Oh. I thought this was something he was planning to do forever, and...
"Not for three hundred years."
"I guess you don't even want to imagine it, then...?"
"I mean, not yet. Marriage is scary."
"What's scary about it? I am so ready to just be able to live with someone I love every day, and to finally have a family again... It would be nice if that was you."
In fact, I don't know if I would ever be able to find someone I love this much...and anyone who loves me.
"I..." He sighs, "Being married and stuff is a huge deal. I'm doing it once and that's it, and my mom always said divorce sends you to hell. But, I mean, us being together also sends me to hell... So, I don't know. But, like, what would I tell my parents? I... It's a really big thing and just having someone who you depend on and they depend on you seems scary as fuck, dude. And that's the tip of the iceberg. You're like the only real relationship I've had."
"I already depend on you. And... What are you going to tell your parents? About us. Are they ever going to know?"
"Please don't make me worry about that, too." He says softly.
He parks the car.
"I've been trying to figure out how to tell my family. I think they're going to be upset that I lied to them, and that someone is being nice to me, but it'll just be like last time. I won't do it until we can move out, I think. And...my dad... He probably won't care. When he gets out, I'm going to tell him about you as soon as possible. He'll probably want to meet you." I rant, having thought about this before.
I don't know what he's so afraid of in all of this...
"Right. That's something we'll have to do, isn't it?"
"Unless you want to hide forever. Or break it off before you have to tell anyone so it doesn't matter anyway. But if you're going to do that, I would prefer if you do it now so I don't have to worry about you doing that."
"I'm not going to break up with you. And...we can't hide forever, I just don't know what we're going to do about it and I know that as soon as I tell my parents...they'll kick me out, or worse... So we have to wait. Until I have my own place, at least."
"Okay," I try to just let it go for now, "Alright, I'll see you after school."
"Right...before you go. I do want to be with you, for a really, really long time. I love you."
"I love you, too."
...
Having more time to be with Damien is really, really nice.
I almost wish I never had to go home.
We go over all of the math I needed him to do, before he claims that it's time for a dinner break.
"Damien," I grin, "Do you have cookies?"
He grins back. "You want cookies for dinner?" He knew what I was going to suggest.
I nod expectantly.
"You're supposed to be the one who always pushes for us to do the right thing and follow the rules, but you want cookies for dinner?" He questions, and I nod again, "Well, just this once, I have to tell you no. You need real food."
"...Real food being...?" I hope the answer is chicken nuggets.
"Healthy stuff. Like vegetables, and shit." He shrugs.
"Shit isn't healthy. You eat shit, and you die." I giggle. He forces a laugh, which I hope is completely fake. That wasn't even the slightest bit funny.
"How can I help?"
"Please get a few vegetables out of the fridge, rinse them off, and cut them." He instructed.
I blink incredulously. Is he serious?
He turns away from me and starts doing something else, which means he must really trust me to use a knife...
Dumb-ass.
I open the refrigerator and pull out carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes. I manage to get them all rinsed off and placed on the counter before Damien checks on me again.
"...Do you need help?" He offers.
"Why would I need help? Where do you keep the knives?" I ask.
"Over here." He taps on the counter to make a sound.
I go over and find a wooden box thing that has a bunch of different types of knives in it.
Which knife is for vegetables and shit?
It must be sharp to easily get through cucumber and carrot, and I have a feeling that it should be a big knife. The easiest solution is to take the biggest one.
I pull out the one that seems to be the largest, immediately having Damien taking it out of my hand.
"That's practically a fucking cleaver! What the hell are you doing?"
"I don't know!" I tell him, putting on that innocent look that I believe works on him.
As expected, he sighs, putting the knife aside. His hand comes up, and I naturally blink and scrunch up my face.
"Boop." He says as his index finger pokes my nose.
"What was that?" I ask.
"A boop. Because you're cute."
I immediately start shaking with laughter, and I swear that tears come to my eyes. Can you imagine if the kids at school saw that? The people of the world deserve to know that Damien Cohen is a cute sweetheart.
He just waits for me to calm down, which is something he has gotten used to by now.
"...Can I still cut the healthy food?" I ask him after I finally get myself to stop laughing at him.
"Fuck, no. Go sit down and I'll need you again when we start making cookies." He orders, shaking his head
"Cookies?" I question.
"Yeah. Just a few. Sit."
"You guys should get a pet." I say.
"Josiah... Go sit." He repeats.
"I guess I am your pet." I chuckle.
I sit down at the kitchen island and just watch him work.
For being someone who has a personal chef, he cooks really well... I think. He is better than me for sure, but I am not even allowed to cut a carrot.
So much for teaching me.
"You promised cookies." I remind him after a few minutes start, when he seems to be done with what he was doing for now.
"Mmhm... You want to start?"
"Hell yes," I get up off the chair, "I want thirty."
"Don't make me boop you again," He threatens, "Maybe you should have three."
"Ten."
"Three."
"...Fine." I give in. At least, for now.
We go over to the oven together, and he pulls a pan out of the oven, closing it and preheating it for the cookies. He got the mix out, and all the ingredients.
Technically, I pretty much watch him do this, too, but I feel more involved because I'm over here. And that's all that matters.
"How many does it make?" I begin to pester him again.
"Twenty-four." He answers.
"Then... Why can't I have twenty, then? You could have four." I go on.
He tunes me out, I can tell, but I keep going, "How many do you want? You can have as many as you want, and I'll have the rest. Believe me, I'm smart, this is a good idea."
A minute of silence passes. He seems to be too tired to even humor me with some sort of response. Maybe I should have let him go rest instead of having to make these...
He warns me to stay back as he opens the oven to put the cookies in, as if I didn't know it was hot. It was getting kinda funny. I like him thinking I'm helpless; It's actually hysterical.
I almost want to touch it...
...
We ate dinner and then got flashcards out, going over them quickly before the oven started beeping obnoxiously.
I flinched at first, but I quickly realized what was going on, getting up and going over to the oven.
"Damien! They're done." I say, opening the oven as he comes to me.
"Back up, it's hot." He gets an oven mitt and takes the pan out, setting it aside on the counter before closing the oven.
I instantly reach out to grab one.
He can't control me.
He catches my wrist before I can even touch them. "No. They're hot. Don't touch." He warns.
"You let me touch you, and you're hot." I shrug.
"...I wonder about you sometimes, Josiah."
"Of course. I probably freak you out a lot. You worry about everything, always." I point out.
"Not true. I'm very laid back and never worry about anything, ever." He claims.
"I wish." I sigh.
"Yeah, same. I haven't slept in like three weeks."
"Not because of me, I hope." I say, going to try to grab a cookie again.
"...Nope. not you." He pushes my hand away.
"Sometimes, I forget other people can see."
"You'll have to be sneakier then."
"But I don't know what you can see! This is unfair. This is discrimination against the disabled." I tell him, hoping to distract him.
"Well, get good."
"Can you see this?" I move closer to the cookies and subtly use the closest hand to make my third attempt.
I manage to barely touch one this time.
They're very hot.
He grabs my hand quickly, and this time he doesn't let go. He just intertwines our fingers. "There. Now what are you going to do?"
"Goddammit." I can't pull away. I like the hand holding too much.
"Ha. Plan ruined."
"You're smarter than I thought you were. But, you forgot one thing..." I murmur.
He grabs my other hand and also intertwines our fingers. "I forgot what?"
I look up at him.
Hmmm...
"Damien..." I take a step closer, tilting my head back to keep looking at him.
We're almost touching. Almost.
I'm still safe.
"Yeah?" He asks softly, looking down at me.
I get up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.
"Wanna try the kissing thing again?" I ask.
Since apparently, you're supposed to ask before kissing. And they need to say yes.
"Of course."
"Alright. Close your eyes so it's not weird. Don't be a creep." I laugh.
"Okay," He says, "They're shut."
I pull my hands away from his and use one to grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him down a bit.
I leave a chaste kiss on his lips. Real quick.
He puts a hand on my back and pulls me into another, longer kiss...
He didn't ask.
That's his own rule and he didn't even do it...
I don't like this...
I try to ignore the feeling and look over at the cookies. I snatch one.
"D-Damien. Stop. Please." I attempt to pull away.
He lets me go immediately. "Sorry."
I shove the cookie into my mouth.
I stare blankly at him, trying to figure out if I should freak out or not.
I don't know why he's like this.
"Isn't that hot?" He questions.
I nod.
"Is your mouth burning?"
I nod again.
"Did you learn something?"
I shake my head no this time, swallowing the cookie. "It was worth it."
"Doubtful."
"Have you ever had a chocolate chip cookie? They're worth anything."
"I've had them, but the only cookie worth burning my mouth is chocolate chunk cookies."
"Whatever." I say, grabbing another one.
He grabs one. "They're too hot." He takes the one out of my hand.
"Don't steal cookies from me. That's mean. And don't touch my back. And no long kisses. Only small ones."
"Why not?"
"Why not to which thing?"
"The last two."
"Because I don't like being touched. Don't touch me besides holding hands and hugs."
"Okay, whatever you want." He says begrudgingly.
"You don't like me just because you want to touch, right?"
"I only wanted to touch someone, there's a lot of people that would be easier to pick than you."
That's a scary thought.
I would rather him stay with me and touch me all he wants than for him to leave and go love someone else...
"Okay..."
I take a cookie and go straight back to the table before he can protest.
I'm going to eat all of them.
I'm going to feel guilty as hell during and after, but I'm going to do it anyway.
End