Jason
I’ve been in this shithole of a trailer all day, sucking Marlboro Reds and fuming. The hangover has morphed into despair, and I can’t stop thinking about what an idiotic decision it was to come back to Belmont.
I’m not usually this dumb!
Well, that’s a lie. I’m a fucking idiot, and I can accept that.
What I can’t accept is feeling weak.
Vulnerable.
Not anymore.
Belmont has haunted me since I left with Mom, and I needed to come back to see if things had changed. To see if maybe, just maybe, I could come back here and conquer it—feel powerful for once.
I associate this place with so much shame and heartache. I wanted to come back and prove to Doug that I was more than what he always told me I was…
Garbage.
And I wanted to look Gabe in the eyes and tell him I didn’t need him—that I had my own back now and didn’t need him anymore.
That’s not what’s happening.
The more I think about last night, the more I realize that the only thing I remember without a shadow of a doubt is the way Gabe looked at me from across the room.
I locked eyes with him and every feeling I thought I’d killed came flooding back to me.
He was magnetic.
I wanted to get closer. To touch him. Kiss him.
Each time he closed his eyes, all I could do was stare at his long, dark lashes.
His look of longing brought back a memory I thought I’d pushed out of my mind forever.
The very first time we kissed.
I sit in Gabe’s trailer having dinner with his family.
It’s an awful night.
His dad is loaded.
And I mean loaded.
I’ve never seen anyone as drunk as this asshole. His head bobs at the table, his eyes rolling back as he makes these weird groaning noises.
I eat with Gabe and his mom a lot, but his dad is usually out somewhere. Gabe never really talks about him, so I don’t ask.
But his dad is here tonight, and I see now why he doesn't talk about him.
Linda clears her throat. “How was school today, boys?” Her body is tense. Just like mine when Doug’s in a mood. It’s like trying to be normal next to a ticking time bomb, when all you want to do is scream.
Gabe isn’t answering, so I finally reply, “It was fine.”
He stares at his dad, who continues making these horrible, groaning noises. Then all of a sudden, his dad starts wailing in his seat—screaming gibberish at the top of his lungs as his head bobs.
Linda tries to laugh it off, but Gabe can’t stand it. I can see it in the way he clenches his fists. He’s never like this. He’s always chill. Peaceful. Sweet.
His dad rises, screaming nonsense at the top of his lungs before smashing his fist down on the table. The plates and glasses shake, and Linda urges him to stop, but he keeps going, smashing his fist on the table while hollering.
Gabe slaps his hands against the table and jumps out of his seat. “SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
His dad barely notices. He just keeps groaning and shouting while Gabe yells, “SHUT UP!”
“It’s okay, just sit,” his mom urges, trying to calm him down.
But Gabe’s losing it. He kicks the leg of the table before running out of the trailer.
I’m right behind him, trying to catch up as he darts down the gravel road.
“Gabe! Wait!”
He sprints into the woods surrounding the park, making his way to our fort. When he reaches it, he falls to his knees and starts punching the ground.
“Dude, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” I yell.
He won’t stop. He’s just slamming his fists against the hard ground over and over again. I’m afraid he’s gonna break his hand, so I wrap my arms around his body and squeeze him to my chest.
“Fuck him, man. He’s a piece of shit,” I say.
Gabe wraps his arms around me. “I just fucking hate him so much,” he whispers into my chest.
His body is trembling. He’s crying.
I’ve never seen Gabe like this. We’ve known each other for years, but he’s always so secretive about his home life. It’s me who’s always the one losing it—freaking out while he rubs my back and tells me it’s going to be okay.
“Sorry,” he says, slapping away the tears streaming down his face.
I move his hand away and gently wipe his cheeks with my shirt. “I got you, dude.”
For the first time in our relationship, I’m the one consoling him, and a warm feeling washes over me.
Not because I’m happy he’s hurting—I hate that he’s hurting. He’s just never let himself get like this with me before, and I love that I can be here to help.
I want to help.
My fingers comb through his wavy hair as I whisper, “I wish there were more I could do.”
Gabe squeezes me, sniffling into my shirt.
So I squeeze him tighter and kiss the top of his head.
“I wish we could leave here. Together,” he gasps into my chest.
His words land heavily. Not because I’m afraid or hate the idea.
Far from it, actually…
The thought makes me happier than I can describe.
Leaving this place with Gabe would be…
“We should,” I blurt out.
Gabe stills, and he backs away a little to look into my eyes. “Yeah?”
“Fuck yeah,” I reply. “Let’s blow this dump and get a place together.”
Gabe wipes away the remaining tears. “We could do that?”
“Yeah! We could do it. I know we could.”
His smile is bright. Beautiful.
The two of us kneel there, holding each other in our arms. The pull is intense, overwhelming.
The moonlight hits his pale skin, making his damp cheeks glow. His hair is so dark, and he looks like a ghost.
But… like… a cute ghost.
A ghost you wanna kiss.
Sweet.
Really sweet.
I don’t even realize it’s happening until it starts.
Our lips connect, and everything feels right. All of the pain and bullshit that life throws at us suddenly feels bearable because—
He feels soft. His lips taste like relief.
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, but I can’t stop. My arms pull him closer, and I feel his hands exploring my back.
The kissing intensifies. It’s frantic. Desperate.
I’m kissing Gabe.
I’ve wanted to for so long, and it’s happening.
Then we stop. Collectively. We pull away from each other and stare.
We’re stunned—completely in awe. It feels crazy yet completely correct at the same time.
“Whoa,” is all I can say.
“Yeah,” he whispers back.
Why?
Why did I think I could forget that?
I have to get out of here. If I don’t, I’ll fall back in love with him.
What if he hurts me again?
Who knows how bad it will hurt the second time around?
Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice—
No. I can’t take it again. My heart hurts too much as it is.
My head’s a mess, and I need some relief. I need something to help me get through all of these feelings that I can’t handle.
I hate to say it but—
I need more alcohol.