Chapter 11 #2
"I know. But it was my choice not to tell you.
I think…I didn't want to change how you see me.
" His gaze locked with mine, lashes wet and clumped together, catching the flickering light from the forgotten movie.
A tear carved a path down the hollow of his cheek.
Without thinking, my thumb hovered for a heartbeat before sweeping across his skin, coming away damp.
"Please don't view me differently. Don't treat me differently.
It's something that happened to me, but it doesn't define me. "
I shook my head. “Never. Not in a million years. You're still you, and I feel the same as I did five minutes ago.” The words felt inadequate against the weight of what he’d shared.
My mind flicked to our arrangement—filming once a week—and the thought of it not being enough twisted my stomach.
I couldn’t fail him twice. Didn't want him to think he couldn't ask for whatever he needed. "Are we… are we enough for you? I don’t want to make you suffer by not giving you what you need.”
“Of course. It’s enough. I haven’t felt like I’m jumping out of my skin yet, but if I do, I’d tell one of you," Theo said, giving me a small, reassuring smile.
I trusted him. Our relationship was building, growing stronger. He had no reason to hide his emotions or struggles anymore. Everything was out in the open.
My throat constricted with everything left unsaid—how I’d give him whatever anchor he needed, whenever he needed it.
And yet another thought pressed forward, impossible to ignore.
“I just—” My voice caught. Teeth clenched.
Jaw tight. “Why Asher? Why not me?” I pressed my lips together, heat rising beneath my collar.
My fingers curled against my palm, nails digging half-moons into my skin as I struggled to keep my expression neutral.
Theo didn’t need my hurt to become another burden.
Asher exhaled softly, fingers tracing ghostly outlines where bruises had once bloomed across his wrists.
“He only told me so I’d open up about what happened when I showed up at his doorstep, beaten and bruised.
I refused to talk, but he let me in… let me sit while he told me what happened to him.
Then I told him the truth. My dad… he’d beaten me.
Got drunk and hit me, sometimes for being gay, sometimes because he blamed Mom leaving on me, even though he was the cause.
Theo gave me a place to stay for the summer and told me I couldn’t go back. He let me move in.”
I felt like the worst dick on the planet for being mad at Theo for not telling me Asher had moved in.
He wasn’t hiding anything—he was saving him from an awful, abusive father.
I’d seen the raw marks on Asher’s wrists that day, later the bruises crawling across his body.
My anger flared, hot and sharp, then twisted inward, slicing me up for how I’d treated him, for the way my own rage had stamped itself onto his face.
Did he see, in my anger, echoes of the father who’d tried to ruin him?
“You had bruises when I saw you,” I said, feeling the truth settle over me like ice water through my veins. "Tell me who did that to you."
“Some were from that incident, but I had to go back to grab more stuff before moving here. He didn’t take it well. He grabbed my wrists and told me I would be nothing without him. I think, in a way, he was upset that he’d be alone. He wasn’t an awful guy before he started drinking.”
My jaw clenched. I hated how Asher was defending him, even in the smallest way.
He didn’t deserve it. There was no excuse for what he’d done.
But I couldn’t say any of that—not now. Asher was just starting to open up, and trust was fragile, like glass balanced on a knife’s edge.
I wouldn’t shatter it. Not when he was finally letting me in.
I watched Theo reach for Asher’s hand, steadying him in a way I couldn’t. For a second, I hated how easy it looked, how natural it was for him to give comfort like that. Then, as if he sensed the pang in my chest, Theo reached for my hand, holding onto us both. My heart warmed at the gesture.
I didn’t know what it was like to have a father who hurt you with his hands, but I knew what it was like to be hurt by someone who was supposed to love you.
Asher always looked at me like I was some spoiled rich kid, like my life was soft just because it was expensive. Like I couldn’t possibly understand what it meant to carry something ugly around in your chest.
Money didn’t fix my family. It didn’t save anything—it just bought distance.
Mom filled the house with nannies, as if warmth could be outsourced.
Dad was always gone, always chasing more, always too busy being important to be a father.
And then one day, even when he was around, he wasn’t really there. Not for me. Not for us.
The damage wasn’t bruises or broken bones—it was quieter than that. It was growing up always trying to earn a love that never came, and learning, slowly, that you were never going to be worth someone’s time.
Some scars weren’t visible.
Asher’s eyes drifted downward, lingering where Theo held both of us. “I’m going to bed,” he announced, yanking his hand away from Theo’s as if it burned. He bolted from the room, and I wondered what had unsettled him. We’d seemed to be finding common ground, just moments ago.
Theo pulled his hand back once he realized what had happened. I ached for that warmth again, but I didn’t know how to cross the invisible line from friends to something more—how to silently beg him to hold my hand again, to hold me.
“You can take the couch if you’d like,” Theo said, his voice soft.
“Thanks, but I’m not too tired to drive,” I replied. Sleeping here after everything that had happened felt strange, almost intrusive.
“I’ll talk to him… about you staying. I don’t want you living with a stranger when you could be here,” Theo added, refusing to meet my eyes—a nervous habit of his. What he was nervous about, I had no idea.
“You don’t have to. I can find a place to stay. I have until next weekend, and I’m sure someone on campus is looking.” Last year, I would’ve agreed without hesitation. But now… another factor made the decision complicated.
A tall, muscular, brooding factor with glaring, hateful eyes—and skin bruised from my hand.
***
Asher Montgomery
“We need to talk.” The four words ruined my night.
I could tell I was going to lose this argument the moment Theo flashed those puppy-dog eyes at me.
Because Theo knew I’d do anything for him, including housing his obnoxious best friend, who, despite understanding more than before, I still hated.
Beckett thought his small problems were the biggest challenges anyone could face.
He had no idea what real struggles were.
Theo played dirty. He joined me in bed just moments after the door clicked shut behind Beckett’s ego. I had begun to feel a tiny spark of pity for Beckett, and Theo noticed. After all, I’d been in his position before, searching for a place to stay—albeit for very different reasons.
I couldn’t deny it: Theo was right. Beckett and I had more in common than I’d thought.
He was… slightly less awful than a week ago.
Or maybe that was my dick talking, after hearing the way he sounded when he came.
Maybe I felt I owed him something, knowing that soon I’d be the one taking him apart on my cock, changing him.
Either way, I answered Theo before he even asked a question.
“He can stay. But he moves in next weekend. I need peace until then—time to prepare for him.”
Theo’s grin gleamed with joy, and he climbed on top of me, pressing his body against mine. His hands gripped my face, tilting it up, and he leaned down, planting a deep, quick kiss on my lips.
“You’re amazing, Asher. Thank you,” he murmured.
“You helped me, Theo. It’s literally your place. You inspire me to be better,” I said, reaching up, letting my hand rest on his cheek. I decided to stop holding back, to give in to my desires, make my intentions clear. “Stay with me tonight.”
He smiled, slow and sure, nodding once. “Of course.”