35. Crashed Party
CRASHED PARTY
Marcus’s POV
The house is thumping. This is the first time we’ve ever hosted a party here.
It’s not surprising, considering I’m the only one who is really into them.
Tristan and Qi tolerate them, and Qiang is into parties in general, but jock-centered ones aren’t really their thing, for obvious reasons.
But everyone in the house was down for this one; hell, they even helped spread the word and got things ready with me.
Well, Qiang did right up until Natasha showed up.
She hooked her arm around theirs and tugged them straight towards the stairs with only one backward glance long enough for her to spit her tongue out at me.
Qi found the entire exchange highly entertaining, especially my face, since apparently it looked like I sucked down a whole lemon when Qiang’s door closed behind them.
It wasn’t long after that the house filled with guests. The downstairs is now crowded with bodies. Qi, Tristan, and I are currently in the kitchen refilling the drinks station. Tristan hasn’t left Qi’s side since the incident earlier. Hopefully, as the night goes on, we’ll be able to relax more.
Tonight’s supposed to be a celebration. So many good things happened today, from waking up with Qiang and officially telling our families about our relationship, to winning my first game as first-string.
Sterling showing his sneering face for ten minutes isn’t worth overshadowing the many wins of today. Especially since Qiang has already been struggling so much today.
It wasn't their best day. I’ve watched the shadows pass through their eyes more than once. I’ve helped reassure them about their doubts regarding me, but I also know that Qi stepped in, along with their family and my parents, regarding their doubts about themself.
I’m not a professional, but I’ve always believed the idea that a single person curing someone’s trauma is bullshit. It takes the strength within the person with the trauma, along with professional help and the affirmation of more people than just one.
As willing as I am to shoulder everything for them, I know now that it was never my place, nor would it be helpful to them in the long run.
Knowing they’ve had a tough day, and how many people stepped up to reassure them and be in their corner, means more to me than playing the hero, which, as much as I deny it, I know I have a hero complex, so not tapping into that says a lot right there.
I’m facing the sink, rinsing out a punchbowl so we can reuse it.
Tristan is rifling through the cupboards for a snack, and Qi is next to me, with a concoction of juices and tequila to mix into the fresh punch.
All of a sudden, Qi lets out a hiss that’s several decibels quieter than the music, movement, and noise of the crowd.
I don’t really know how I hear it, maybe because he’s right next to me, or maybe I’m just tuned into him enough to have felt it more than heard it with how close to me he is. Either way, the noise has me looking up to find an angry expression on his face.
Even though I have caught a few glimpses of Qi’s angry face over the past few months, it’s still rare enough that it has me automatically following his gaze to find what’s pissed him off, and not exactly surprised when I see what he’s looking at, or rather, who.
Kingston stands just inside the doorway, his blue eyes scanning the crowd, and between his already existing ire at me and his dad taking his bad mood out on him after the game, there’s no reason he’d be here except to cause trouble.
And the malevolent gleam in his eyes as he scans the crowd, along with the hard set of his mouth, only furthers my assumption.
Tristan angles his body so Qi is positioned behind him, while Qi squares his shoulders when Kingston spots us and heads in our direction. His eyes bore into mine. He came here for me. The one who, in his mind, stole his position—something his dad most likely cruelly reiterated after the game.
The duality of my feelings towards Kingston messes me up.
On the one hand, I despise him for the things that he’s done, for his penchant to take his abuse out on innocent people and do horrible things to them.
He humiliated Qiang on an extremely cruel level, and has gone out of his way at least twice since I’ve known Qiang to purposefully rub salt in those old, festering wounds.
In addition to that, after getting more detailed accounts from both Qi and Qiang, I know the man goaded Qi–a kid three years younger than himself–into a fight the night after he outed Qiang. And we can’t forget that he’s a cocky, arrogant, classist little shit.
On the other hand, I can’t imagine what it must feel like to grow up abused and belittled by my own father, like he most likely has been. So there’s a tangible sense of pity and an immense urge to help that gets all twisted with the immediate desire to punch his face in every time I see him.
I may have every intention of giving him a way out of his current hell, but there is no reason to back that up with a hand of friendship. He’s human, so he deserves the first, but he’s too much of a dickhead for the second.
So whenever he’s around, my reactions to him are complicated as fuck.
I’ve only really been able to juggle it because I know when everything is said and done, I’ll never have to deal with him again, and that he’ll have a fresh start to hopefully do better and be better than the douche canoe he is now.
He opens his mouth to say something, but Qi doesn’t give him the chance.
“You aren’t welcome here,” he spits out.
Kingston’s eyes are a little wary as he takes Qi in for a moment. I wonder if he’s remembering how he’s had his ass handed to him by the guy twice now, but self-preservation doesn’t seem to be one of his superpowers when his wariness turns into a sneer.
“The team was invited, and I’m part of the team,” he drones condescendingly.
I roll my shoulders and step up to him. I may pity the guy, but I’m not gonna let him bring his shit into my house.
“This is as much Qi’s house as it is mine, and his word goes as strongly as mine does. But since you have no common manners, then I’ll reiterate, you aren’t welcome here.”
Kingston clucks his tongue at me and shakes his head. “That’s a bad team mentality you have there, Marcus. Wonder what Coach would think about his decision to make you a starter with a team attitude like that?” he says almost goadingly.
Yeah, the fucker definitely came here in search of a fight.
“Actually,” Derrick says, having walked in for a drink and heard enough of the conversation to know what’s going on. “I think Marcus’s opinion on this matter is more in line with the team in general.”
“I guess it’s bad on Coach then, since it seems he doesn’t care that that bad team attitude runs through all of you. Right, mentor?” he sneers scathingly.
Derrick rolls his eyes. “It barely counts as being your mentor when you haven’t listened to a damn word I’ve said since you started here.”
“Or maybe, you just suck as a mentor,” Kingston shoots back, his eyes narrowed at Derrick with disdain.
A crowd had started to gather around the kitchen while the two of them had sparred off. And of course, this would also be when Qiang and Natasha would emerge from Qiang’s studio.
Honestly, I had hoped Kingston would leave before Qiang ever even knew he was here, but it’s too late now.
Before I can take a step towards them, Qi is already striding across the room and linking their arm protectively through Qiang’s.
As much as I want to be the one to stand next to them right now, I let it go for the moment because Qi’s been the one fighting this battle with Qiang since the beginning, and I didn’t come around until four years after the fact.
However, as solidifying as the act is, and how much I love that Qi is so resolutely there for Qiang all the time, the movement also drew Kingston’s attention towards them.
His eyes narrow in their direction before his mouth twists deviously, and he looks back at me with a gleam in his eye that tells me he’s about to seriously piss me off. I open my mouth to reiterate that he needs to leave, but he huffs out a derisive laugh and cuts me off.
“Do you really think the team is good with slandering one of their own just because you’re jealous that your little bitch is still pining for me after so many years?” he taunts.
“It’s really not my fault he couldn’t grasp the concept that not everyone wants his twinky little ass,” he hisses.
My lip curls, and my patience snaps as he deliberately misgenders Qiang, adding to the cruelty of the lie he spits out as he brings up their past, all while managing to hide how deeply involved he was in everything that happened between them.
Disregarding the fact that I can’t fathom how anyone could have Qiang the way he did and not be anything other than grateful for that time, I focus more on the fact that I threatened him with bodily harm if he went after Qiang again.
The team was there for it, so it’s not like Kingston wasn’t warned of the consequences before he came here and started spouting shit.
Before I can move, though, Natasha steps forward, a hardness in her eyes that is quite frankly, rather terrifying. “It’s insane to me that you are a full-grown college student and still doubling down on stupidity.”
Kingston’s nostrils flare as he takes her in. “Excuse me?” he practically spits out; the notion that he even feels he has the right to come off this insulted is almost laughable. Almost; I’m too pissed for it to quite get to that point.
Natasha’s mouth curls into the most disdainful expression I think I’ve ever seen. How he can look back at her and not feel three inches high, I have no idea.
“No, there obviously isn’t one. But proper pronouns were taught before we hit grade school, and not only are you using improper ones, but you are emphasizing them in a way that only further highlights your stupidity,” she says patronizingly.