(AN: There's a small sexual scene at the end, so.. Yeah. Heads up, frens.)

Chapter Four:

"Banjo... Can I talk to you?" I asked my son as he sat down for breakfast. Oliver still hadn't come down, which was strange considering he made sure he was on time for everything.
"Sure. What's up?" He asked me, fixing a plate for himself for breakfast.
"Do you think Oliver's been acting weird?" I asked him.
"Um... I thought the school told you," Banjo said, turning around.
"Told me what?" I asked, concern dripping from my voice.
"Yesterday, before we even got into school, Oliver passed out. The nurse said it was a panic attack. Then driving home he looked pretty miserable. I'm guessing it was just a bad first day or something. You know how Oliver gets about stressful situations," Banjo told me, sitting down at the breakfast bar and beginning to eat.
"Why didn't he tell me?" I asked, mostly to myself.
"Probably cause he shut himself in his room all night," Banjo mumbled through a mouthful of food.
"Don't talk with your mouth full," I muttered, getting up and going to Oliver's room.
When I got upstairs and went down the hall to Oliver's room, I took note that the door was closed. I sighed and knocked gently on it before opening it and walking in.
Oliver was sitting on his bed, staring at the floor. He had the collar of his shirt popped up and a bow tie laid across his lap however he made no effort to actually put it on.
"Oliver? Are you okay?" I asked him, walking in a little more.
"I don't want to go to school," Oliver mumbled.
I almost didn't believe what Oliver just said. Ever since elementary school, Oliver had perfect attendance. He never missed a day of school for anything. So, hearing those words come from Oliver, it was almost like someone replaced my son overnight.
"Are you feeling okay?" I asked him.
"Yeah. I just don't want to go," Oliver muttered.
"How come? You always want to go to school," I said, sitting down next to him.
"Nobody likes me. They didn't even give me a chance, Dad. They just automatically hated me," Oliver complained. I watched as tears welled up in his eyes and I instantly pulled him into a hug.
"Oliver, you've just got to give them time. You're the outsider to them. They don't know you yet," I comforted him. Oliver shook his head however he didn't say anything. He rubbed his eyes and picked up his bow tie again, tying it around his neck expertly and leaving the room.
I watched him go, wondering why he was suddenly so short with me. I didn't want to think that there was something bigger bothering him but at this point that seemed to be the only logical explanation for his attitude.
I sighed and got up, going back downstairs to make sure the boys were eating. They were both sitting at the counter, eating their breakfast. Kazooie was standing next to Banjo, fixing his messy hair and Cree was sitting next to Oliver, eating his breakfast with him.
I watched them all fondly. Even though only one out of the four was my biological son, I thought of them all as my children. They were here so often, always filling the house with giggles and screams.
"Yo, finish eating. We got to go," Banjo said, shoving his last piece of bacon in his mouth and putting his plate in the sink.
Oliver, Cree, and Kazooie followed him out the door. I watched the door close, and I suddenly felt more alone than ever. I sighed and shook my head, taking the leftovers of breakfast and making myself and Michael a plate. I set it on the counter and began eating mine, waiting for Michael to finish getting ready.
I heard the stairs creak as Michael came down them. He slid a beanie over his head and looked over at me. A smile crept on his face and he approached me, trying to kiss my cheek. I pulled away at the last minute, glaring at him out of the corner of my eye. Michael took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he sat down and began eating his breakfast.
It was awkward. Very, very awkward. Michael and I were always able to fill up empty silences with some sort of conversation but now, it was like anything I could say wouldn't be right. It was just make things worse.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I stopped eating and sent Michael a glance before looking back at the door. Whoever was at the door knocked again and I got up to go answer it.
I opened the door and immediately shut it again.
However, Jordyn was a persistent little bitch. She stuck her foot in the door and prevented me from closing it again. She let out her little giggle and she smiled at me through the crack in the door.
"You're so cute when your mad, Gavin," Jordyn taunted. She shoved the door open and I backed up, glaring at her.
"Leave, Jordyn. You have no right being here," I growled.
Michael immediately got up from where he sat and came over to me. I glared at him and held up my hand, silently telling him not to come closer.
"Get out of my house," I growled.
"Who's gonna make me? You? You're too weak to do much more than a pathetic little shove," Jordyn said, laughing again.
"Jordyn, what do you want," Michael asked.
"Michael, stay out of this," I spat, glaring at him again.
"Who made you the fucking queen, Gavin?" Jordyn asked, stepping closer to me. She looked over at Michael and smirked.
"God damn, have you been working out? Ugh, I can just imagine how amazing it'd feel to have you hold me down again," Jordyn said.
I had it at that. I lashed out and shoved her to the ground after she said that. Jordyn grunted and glared at me, instantly getting back up and shoving me back. She only moved me about an inch back.
"Get out, Jordyn. You don't want me to make you," I threatened, sending her another pointed glare. Jordyn flared her nostrils in an incredibly unattractive way and sent Michael another glance.
"When you finally decide to leave this bastard, you know where to find me," Jordyn said, winking towards Michael before leaving.
I slammed the door behind her, taking several deep breaths before glaring at Michael again.
"Care to explain?" I growled.
"Explain what?" He asked, oblivious to what I was going at.
"Why she was here?" I said, gritting my teeth.
"Wait... You think I had something to do with the fact that she was here?" Michael said, narrowing his eyes at me.
"I don't know, Michael. Why else would she be here? I know she loves to torment me but she must've had a bigger reason to come all the way across the city just to come to our house," I said, crossing my arms.
"I can't fucking believe you, Gavin. I had nothing to do with that. I told you I stopped talking to her," Michael growled.
"Let me see your phone," I said.
"What?" He asked.
"Let me see your phone," I said, a little more forcibly.
"Why? Do you think I'm lying? I'm not lying, Gavin," Michael growled.
I rolled my eyes and walked back to the counter and snatched his phone before he could grab it. I unlocked it and went to his messages, seeing that he did in fact talk to her last night.
"Right. You didn't talk to her," I said, shoving his phone back at him. I sat back down, shoving my plate forward when the smell made me suddenly nauseous.
"Gavin, what the hell am I supposed to do? You don't trust me and at this point, I don't think you ever will. You refuse to let me do anything with you. I'm trying, and you're denying," Michael said, sitting down next to me.
"So you have to go out of your way to ask Jordyn for sex?" I asked, looking at him.
"I'm not getting it from you," Michael muttered.
"And you aren't going to for a long time. You know, I was actually planning on letting you take me out on Friday. The boys weren't supposed to be home. Maybe we could've gotten dinner and then we'd come home and I'd finally let myself trust you for one night of pleasure. God,
I can't believe I let myself indulge in such fantasies," I told him before getting up and going back upstairs.
"Where are you going?" Michael asked.
"To go jack off," I called back mockingly.
I went into our room, and slammed the door. I laid on the bed and curled up, letting myself cry again. Why couldn't Michael see what he was putting me through?
My eyes wandered to the bathroom. I saw my razor sitting on the edge of the sink, almost calling out to me. I turned my wrist over, counting the numerous faded scars. I stared at the long cut that ran down my wrist, being reminded of my suicide attempt after my father had raped me.
I envisioned myself getting up and locking the bathroom door. I'd pick up my razor and take it apart, retrieving the blades and using them to make long, deep cuts across my wrists, reopening old wounds.
I turned over on my other side. I couldn't think like that. I had kids now. They couldn't see my scars reopened.
But the ideations were very pleasing.

I closed the bedroom door again, promptly locking it. I didn't want to be disturbed. I believed I deserved at least five minutes of my own self pleasure.
I sighed and laid on my bed. I didn't do anything besides lay there. However, I was thinking of possible ways I could get the job done.
Eventually, I felt my stomach grow warm as my thoughts travelled to different places and I let a tiny moan escape my lips. I got up, going into the bathroom and grabbing a towel. I walked back into my bedroom, searching through one of my drawers until I found my lube. A smirk appeared on my face as I felt myself become more and more excited.
I slowly unbuckled my belt, feeling my heart race. My pants slid down my legs and I kicked them off. I then slipped my boxers off, throwing them on top of my pants.
I laid back down on my bed, squirting a generous amount of lube onto my fingers and letting my fingers ghost my thighs. I bit my lip as my fingers wrapped around myself. I slowly caressed my shaft, leaning my head back a little more and closing my eyes.
I slowly began pumping, feeling the pleasure begin to grow. I opened my mouth, trying my hardest not to let out too many moans out of fear someone may hear me. I picked up the pace, faster and faster before I felt myself begin to reach my climax.
I held onto the orgasm, wanting to feel the pleasure for just a little while longer. I didn't even begin to feel the pain until I finally decided to let myself orgasm.
And when I did... Oh, how good it felt.
My pumps slowed down as I rode out the orgasm. Eventually, I stopped all together when I felt the orgasm end.
I tried to catch my breath and calm my beating heart. For some reason, when I let myself come back to reality, all I felt was shame. Pure shame.
I shouldn't be pleasuring myself. I have a husband for a reason. He's supposed to be doing this, not me.
I shook my head and grabbed the towel, cleaning myself up. The shame followed me until I pulled my clothes back on, put away the lube, and threw the towel in the washer. Then and only then, did it finally go away.
And when it did, I went back to being cold and distrusting towards Michael.
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Okay, another Gavin chapter. I think the next three or four are about Oliver... So, yeah.
Anyway, as promised there was a small sexual scene at the end. It was kind of awkward writing it since I have never written a scene with just masturbation so... if it sucks, I apologize.
Alright... If you enjoyed this, please let me know in the comments. I love to see your feedback (and it could help me become a better writer).
Thanks for reading!