10. Xed
Chapter ten
M y best friend is an idiot.
Making my way upstairs, the music thumps loud enough to shake the whole dorm, and I glare at the last text he sent me hours ago.
Sasquatch:
Please don’t be mad, Ducky. I’m sorry. I fucked up.
Yeah, he did.
I won’t lie; his words had felt like a kick to the teeth. I’d have been devastated if I didn’t know Matty as well as I do.
But I do know him, better than he even knows himself, and he obviously didn’t mean all that bullshit. Still doesn’t mean I wasn’t allowed a few hours to be angry at him for it, though.
And now here I am, tracking his ass down because he didn’t respond when I asked if he needed a ride home. Oh, we’re definitely going to have words.
The dorm door is thrown open, and people are lounging in the hall, either making out or smoking. As I step inside, I scan the packed space, looking for Matty’s bulky frame. He should be easy to spot—the guy is built like Hulk Hogan—but when I don’t immediately see him, a trickle of worry runs down my spine like ice. Where the hell is he?
Pushing through drunken college douchebags, I start to search the dorm, but an arm shoots out to block my path, and I look up into a pair of narrowed hazel eyes.
“Fuck are you doing here, Alexander? No one invited you.”
Internally, I recoil at the use of my birth name, pushing Pika’s arm away with my fingertips like he has a disease. “Always a pleasure, Pika. Where’s your better-looking twin?”
Only Aunt Pearl calls me that shit.
His lips curl back as he steps toward me, but his brother stops him before things get out of hand.
“If you’re looking for Matthew, he’s in the bathroom,” Oscar says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. Something crosses his features, though, and he pauses. “...with Valerie.”
As I take off down the hall, an ugly, visceral jealousy bubbles in my gut, and my vision goes red.
It shouldn’t surprise me. Matthew has run to Val constantly despite how bad she treats him, but after what we did last night? And this morning? The way he whispered into my skin when he came between us, cum soaking both our stomachs as he held me close…
How fucking dare he?
As I approach the bathroom door, I’m about to knock when it suddenly swings open. Valerie steps out, adjusting her dress, and when our eyes meet, she deliberately licks her lips before picking her heels up off the floor.
“Sloppy seconds are all yours,” she laughs, stumbling down the hall, and I ball my fists to keep from yanking her back by her hair.
You’re the one who got sloppy seconds, bitch .
Shoving open the bathroom door fully, I immediately spot Matty on the floor, and I’m about to lay into him when I see…
When I see…
“ Oh my God, Matty.”
Bile rises in my throat as I drop to my knees beside where he’s passed out, tucking him back inside his jeans before buttoning them back up. He barely mumbles, doesn’t even register what I’m doing, and I have to lean over his motionless body as I nearly puke into the toilet.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
That fucking bitch, what did she do?
“Matty, hey,” I rasp, wiping my mouth as I jostle him awake. “Come on, big guy, get up. I can’t carry you.”
His lips move, a whisper I can’t understand as his brows furrow, and I get up on shaky legs to cup my hands under running water from the sink. My entire frame is trembling when I splash it on his face, horror and rage warring inside of me.
I’m going to fucking kill her.
Icy cold water does the trick, making him coherent enough to curse as he wipes his face, squinting up at me. “Why?”
“Because you weren’t moving, Matthew. Come on, help me get you up.”
Groaning, he puts an arm around my shoulders and uses the tub for leverage, slowly lifting off the ground. “My head hurts.”
“I know, baby. I’m gonna get you home.”
His weight is hard to hold, but I try, stumbling into the hallway. Eyes follow us, watching when I crash into the wall multiple times to keep him up. In the corner of the room, Pika sits on the couch with Val, sneering in our direction, and if Matty could stand on his own right now, I’d be over there in a heartbeat throwing hands. I don’t care if it landed me in jail. She fucking assaulted my best friend. Took something that wasn’t hers to take.
We’re almost to the front door when my legs give out, and I go down hard. Bracing for impact, I wait for Matty to crush me, squeezing my eyes shut and praying that nothing gets broken when he hits.
Only nothing happens.
Peeking through my lids, I glance up to find Oscar holding Matty up. He extends his free arm toward me.
“I got him. Let me help.”
“Get the fuck away from him,” I growl, slapping his hand away before getting to my feet.
Oscar’s brows jump as I snatch my best friend out of his grip. “I just want to help, man, Jesus.”
“ Helping would have been not letting him get this drunk in the first place.”
Despite my protests, Oscar slides his arm around Matty’s waist again, helping me pull him out the door. “I’m not his fucking keeper. Thought that was your job?”
“Fuck you.”
We get him down the stairs and outside together, the cold fall air making him shiver.
“Cold,” he whines, resting his cheek against my head, and I tighten my hold on him, so angry with myself that I could scream. I shouldn’t have let him go alone. This is my fault, my fault.
The Subaru comes into view, and Oscar helps me get him into the passenger seat. Once he’s buckled in, I slam the door before launching at Oscar, taking him by surprise when I shove him so hard he almost trips onto the grass .
“ Why?! Why did you let her near him, huh? Why the fuck would you let that happen?!”
I’m yelling at this point, stomach threatening to unload as I punch my fist into his gut. Oscar raises his palms, backing away when I try to come after him again.
“Look, man, he’s an adult. I’m done with this shit. You’re welcome.”
As he walks away, I force myself to keep from kicking the car in a rage, shame making my eyes sting. It’s not the car’s fault or Oscar’s fault. Not even fucking Pika’s fault.
I hold all the blame.
And so does Valerie.
Getting behind the wheel, I peel out onto the street toward home, a familiar pressure beginning to expand in my chest. Matty’s head is lolled to the side, facing me, and when I hear him mumble my name, I turn to see his glassy gaze on me.
“M’sorry,” he slurs, reaching for my hand. Something in me cracks when I thread our pinkies together.
“No, Matty. I’m sorry.”
His brows furrow as he shakes his head, groaning with a wince when the movement probably hurts. “Didn’t mean it, Ducky. Like it when you follow me.”
“I’ll always follow you,” I answer, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill over.
My fault, my fault.
Once we’re home, pulling him out of the car is a struggle. He ends up on all fours, puking into the gutter, and even tries to sleep on the sidewalk. When I heave him up the steps toward our front door, he fights me, and I shout every curse in the book before finally getting him inside. The neighbors probably hate me .
“Goddammit, Matthew,” I growl when he bypasses the stairs, immediately crashing to the living room floor. Within seconds, he’s out, snoring loudly, and emotion clogs my throat as I gaze down at him.
My best friend. My big guy.
My lover.
Is he, though? We only barely touched.
And yet it was everything to me, everything I’ve been dreaming of in my fucked up fantasies since fifteen. But a few derogatory comments from two guys who barely share a brain cell between them was enough to send him spiraling. And what Valerie did…
Fuck. I hurt him. Dragged him down into my darkness when he belongs in the light. Aunt Pearl was right.
I ruin everything I touch.
“Sweet dreams, baby.” Rolling Matty onto his side in case he pukes again, I gently kiss his sweaty forehead before pulling off his shoes.
After covering him with a blanket from the couch, I slowly climb the stairs to the bathroom, everything around me feeling like an illusion. My head swims, thoughts like molasses, and I watch my hands dig underneath the sink as if they aren’t attached to my body. Like they belong to someone else.
Reaching behind chemicals and cleaning supplies, I pull out the pack of smokes and lighter that I hid when we moved in months ago.
In slow motion, I stand, turning my back to the mirror, as I pull a smoke from the carton and light it, pulse pounding in my ears. Nausea has my stomach roiling again, and I feel out of place and disconnected from myself. Squeezing my eyes shut, I take a long drag off the cigarette, trying my hardest to block out Pearl’s voice in my head as the sight of Matty lying on that bathroom floor imprints itself into my soul.
Bad. No good. Ugly.
Everything I touch crumbles.
Rolling up my sleeves, I do what I haven’t done in months, feeling myself slam back into my body as the pain of burning flesh acts as an anchor.
It’s not enough.
I’ll never be enough.