Nathan hung up on his bag and sighed as he took off his shoes and headed into the house. Whatever had happened with Rachel, she wasn't talking to them, and the boys had only given him the gist. There had been some scuffle between Tim and the Italian mob that ran the city, the Moceris. The boy had been left in a bloody mess of pieces, and Nathan didn't know if he was comfortable going out without someone with him anymore. There was a lot more going on under the surface of this city that he hadn't seen yet.

"Why so glum, kid?" Nathan lifted his head to find Tanner leaning out of the kitchen with the swing door behind his shoulder.

As soon as he met with those sharp eyes, he stiffened and took a step back. It had been with great efforts that he'd avoided interacting with the man since he's inadvertently injured his hand.

"Relax. I'm not going to touch you," Tanner growled, and Nathan's fear slid into a solid frown. "If you don't want to tell me, forget I asked." Tanner let out a breath but didn't move from his imposing stance in the doorway.

"My friend Rachel's friend was beaten up by the mob." It sounded stranger coming out of his mouth than he'd thought, and he jumped a full few feet back to the opposite wall as he met Tanner's eyes. "What did I do?" Nathan squeaked as he inched down the hall away from him.

Something in Tanner's eyes had darkened under the lowered crunch of his eyebrows, and Tanner's muscles in his arms were clenched tighter against his chest as he let out a slow breath between his teeth.

"Fucking Oliver." Tanner was talking to himself, and he turned from the kitchen door to grab his coat and left. The door slammed so hard that the hinges shivered, and Ian materialized out of thin air to figure out what the commotion was.

"You okay?" Ian asked, and Nathan nodded as he headed for the stairs.

Ian trailed him, of course, and he groaned as he headed into the room. His routine was pretty set when he got home of showering, changing, and either eating downstairs or relaxing in the room for the evening. That certainly didn't stop Ian from sitting on his bed outside the door while he did so, and it gave him a bit of the creeps. It wasn't like Nathan could ask him to leave his own room. Tonight was the last night he'd be sharing a room with Ian though, so he just dealt with it. Rick had taken his sweet time, but he was finishing up the trim over the carpet right now, and Donovan said he'd help him move his things into his new room in the morning.

Coming out of the shower with a towel on his shoulders, he glanced suspiciously at Ian who had his eyes focused on a book. There were some patches on his neck, and as Nathan tried to figure out what they were, Ian dropped his book to his lap.

"Nicotine patches. Maggie has been harping on me a little more than usual with you in the house. She says we're overdue for a visit from the lovely higher ups and that it won't look good if I have been forcibly exposing a child to my unhealthy habits."

"S-sorry." Nathan tried to skitter away, but Ian put himself in front of him so fast that all Nathan could do was groan and accept his fate. "What?" His voice came out a little higher pitched than he'd intended as Ian's blue eyes crawled over him.

"It's our last afternoon together. Sit with me." Ian gestured to his bed.

Nathan considered whether or not his towel could help him out of this situation. He certainly didn't have enough strength to strangle Ian, and it wasn't long enough to climb out the window. There was no way he was making it to the door with Ian between him and his escape.

There wasn't even the ability to ask him if they could use chairs. Ian didn't keep any except for a few cushions he used for sitting at the low coffee table he had. It was worth wasting his breath to try.

"Is there a reason we can't sit at the table?" Nathan asked, and Ian narrowed his eyes.

"Bed's more comfortable. My bones are still creaking from helping you with your room. Sit," Ian left him no room to argue, and he really didn't want to get into it with Ian.

Usually Nathan came home at curfew with Donovan, but he had left early because of how upset Rachel was. That left him uncomfortably alone right now, and he did not want the man to force him onto his bed. Nathan slid back onto it with a glare, tucking himself into the far corner and sitting cross legged with a despairing sigh.

"It's not so bad, sitting with me," Ian commented as he sat back against the wall on the end of the bed. The man stretched his legs out across it, which Nathan didn't doubt was his way of creating a gate between him and his escape.

"It's never just sitting Ian," Nathan said quietly, trying to keep his tone even. There was always some point at which Ian forgot that there was such a thing as a personal space bubble.

"You do smell nice fresh out of the shower." Ian smirked and Nathan frowned. "It's been nice having company and I'll miss you, is all." Ian dropped his smirk for a lighter smile and Nathan uncurled himself partially from the corner to stretch one leg out.

"What do you want?" Nathan asked, and Ian shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe we could just talk." Ian slid an arm on his knee.

"About?"

"Anything really. You look a bit down, actually." Ian was good at noticing when he was upset, even when he was hiding it from himself. "How about a distraction. Ask me something you want to know, and I'll answer honestly, promise."

"Are you about to molest me?" Nathan snapped out, and Ian chuckled darkly.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. You should come up with a question that has more substance or I'll get distracted by you clean showered in my bed." Ian's eyes as they met his made him want to throw up, but he swallowed several times to suppress it.

Something he wanted to know that had substance? Well, Nathan was ignorant when it came to certain things about Ian, and it wasn't like it could get worse then delaying Ian's desire to crawl over him on the bed. It was still hard to ask the question without pissing someone off.

"I know it's a strange question, but... uh...what is it like... being gay?"

Ian's expression flattened so fast that Nathan knew he'd asked the wrong question.

"I don't know, Nat." The shallow bite in Ian's voice had him half crawling up the wall that he was now pressed against. "I wake up, live my life, and go to sleep like everyone else. I'm just not romantically inclined toward women. What's it like being straight?"

It did sound bad when Ian put it like that.

"You told me to ask you a question I wanted to know," Nathan whined as Ian narrowed his eyes on him.

"I guess so." Ian ran a hand up his face and he let out a breath. Nathan wasn't sure if he was frustrated, upset, or tired. "Really though, Nathan, tell me about being straight. Did kids at school spit on your food, tag your locker, call you a fag or a fairy among other less vulgar slurs? How was using the bathroom? Did you have to wait until it was completely empty or risk getting your head shoved into a toilet by pissed kids who thought you got a rise from staring at their junk? Was there a group of guys always waiting to beat the crap out of you? I can go on."

"No, there wasn't." Nathan frowned. They'd bullied him at his school, shoved him around, ruined his homework, harassed and berated him and his friends, but he hadn't been so much physically beaten as he'd been demoralized.

"You want to know what my father said when he found out I was gay? I didn't tell him of course, found out from the school when the bullying got too bad."

Ian slid toward him on the bed, and Nathan had nowhere to run to. He sank back into the bed, regretting ever speaking as the wash of Ian's normal mint hit his face. Over him, Ian dropped a hand to the pillow on either side of his head and lowered his forehead down to lay it on his.

"Nothing," Ian said, his blue eyes boring into his, and his lips hovering dangerously close. "My father said nothing. Just lifted his hands, and hit me. Over, and over, and over, until I couldn't move anymore. I don't know when he stopped because I hit my head pretty hard when I fell from the first blow. Eventually, he came back with a belt and then he whipped me."

Ian sat up for only as long as it took him to remove his shirt, and with the man's legs now in-between his own, there was no way for Nathan to escape. "Here." Ian grabbed Nathan's wrist and yanked it so hard up to his chest that Nathan cringed. The entire time, even when Ian lowered himself back onto him, suspended only by his forearms next to his face, Nathan kept his eyes frozen on Ian's ice-cold stare.

It was heavy with an emotion he couldn't identify and yet at the same time empty, like the man's soul had left his body. Even then, it was safer to look him in the face than wander lower to the half-naked man that was nearly lying on top of him. Nathan hand, still warm from his shower, pressed against Ian's cool chest, and his fingers trembled as Ian's hand constricted around his wrist, holding it in place. Nathan's heart pounded as Ian trailed his hand down his chest from his pectoral muscles to nearly his groin.

Instead of spiraling on where Ian's hand was leading him, his mind was somewhere else. Counting. ... six, seven, eight. Ian released his hand, and Nathan pulled it back to his chest, but at the same time, rubbed his fingers together to ease the sensation. There had been ridges in Ian's flesh, scars from being whipped.

"This is what it's like for me to be gay," Ian rasped, lifting himself enough that Nathan got a good look down his chest, but didn't have enough room to flee. They were everywhere, crisscrossed over his entire body, scars that ran around and wrapped him in cruel arcs. Some were darker and others lighter, meaning that it had not been an isolated incident.

"Would you... touch me?" Ian asked, looking into Nathan's eyes, and the lifeless aspect of them had multiplied.

It wasn't in Nathan to say no because he was afraid of what Ian would do if he denied him, but he also couldn't move, so he was frozen with his arms defensively up on his chest. It was the only shield he had to Ian full on lying on him.

"Please?" Ian asked again, and Nathan's frown tightened as he broke eye contact. "I'll beg." Ian dropped his lips to whisper into his ear, and Nathan tried to push him away, but he was too heavy.

"Get off of me!" Nathan growled but choked off his words as Ian slid a hand over his mouth and gripped his chin.

"Shhh," Ian put a finger to his own lips as he lifted his head from his ear. "If you make too much noise, you'll draw attention," Ian chastised like this was a funeral and he was being rowdy, not like the man was two inches away from pressing his groin on his and scarring him for the rest of his foreseeably short life. "Nothing inappropriate, Nat. Just my scars." Ian lowered his lips to his ear again, but kept his hand on his mouth. "Touch...me." Ian breathed into his ear, and Nathan trembled.

There was no way he was getting out of this without doing what the man said, but he didn't know which was worse. Did he sit here and refuse–to save his dignity–only to be further molested by him, or did he give in and do what he wanted in the shallow hopes that he would release him eventually?

There wasn't even a way for him to knee him in the groin with how Ian had his legs spread, and he was sure the man had planned that. Swallowing his pride, Nathan took the route that would piss off the man who had him pinned on his back least.

Hesitantly, Nathan reached a hand out and touched a long line that ran from Ian's pectoral muscles and down over his abdomen. As he did, Ian gasped for breath against the side of his face, and Nathan's hand trembled as hard as Ian's arms did in holding himself over him. The man didn't let him go, so he continued to trace the elevated white lines that tore over most of the visible skin

If Nathan was distracted enough, he could forget his past at any given moment, but for someone like Ian, it was etched into his skin in a permanence that he could never rid himself of. Every look in the mirror or brush against his skin called back memories that buried him in the weight of years of torture. What was it like for him to live like that every day? Haunted, chased by his fears and pain...

Taking as deep a breath as he could through his nose, Nathan let it out and pressed his hand firmly to Ian's chest. He pushed him, but not hard enough to move him, only to grab his attention. Ian raised his eyes, and Nathan glared at him, tugging on the hand that covered his mouth.

"What?" Ian hissed, lowering his hand only enough to rest it on his chin.

"Get off of me, and I'll liste," Nathan ground out, and Ian's sharp gaze lightened.

"Fuck." Ian ran his hand over his own face and rolled off of him.

Unfortunately, Ian fell onto the outside of the bed, and it pinned Nathan between Ian and the wall. Nathan was still on his back and he was not going to turn on his side and lessen the space. The ceiling spun above him as he tried to figure out a way out of this where he wasn't back under Ian.

"You want to know what being gay is like, Nathan?" Ian touched the side of his face, and he shivered. "It fucking sucks. I just don't like women. I don't feel for women." Ian snaked his arms around Nathan, and he whined as Ian pulled him into his chest.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Ian said with his eyes just an inch from his, and Nathan was not reassured. At least Ian wasn't on him. "After that shit and after I escaped high school, at every job I had, I was so far in the closet the fucks from Narnia couldn't find me. I tried to be normal, flirted with women, joked with the guys.

"It was fucking empty. You either live in constant fear that some nut will do you in with a baseball bat or pretend you're someone you're not. I know it's a little better for you kids than it was for me, but it never leaves. That feeling when someone eyes you for holding a man's hand, the snickers and remarks, being ostracized by people who you thought were your friends and family.

"The only person I had, or I thought I had, they just used me. So tell me, Nathan, what is it like... to sleep with someone, to actually fuck some girl and not have to think about everyone you know ridiculing you both for it?"

"Uh," Nathan's throat was dry, half from being pressed against a grown man's chest, half because Ian's lips were breathing mint directly against his face, and half because Nathan hadn't slept with anyone. How many halves was that? Right now, he could barely function, let alone count.

Words failed as Ian's pained expression changed to confusion. It was followed by a mischievous smile that Nathan had dreaded but was used to by now. Ian laughed–full-on crushing him to his body laughter.

"You're a virgin." More laughter, and Nathan stiffened as Ian ran his hand down his side.

A rather embarrassing squeal escaped Nathan as Ian gripped his hip, and then Ian's lips were on his. Slow and tasting of mint, they moved on his, and Nathan pursed his own and futilely tried again to push him away. Ian dug his fingers so hard into his side that Nathan gasped. Mint and spice slid across Nathan's tongue as Ian invaded it, and Nathan shuddered as Ian finally leaned back enough for Nathan to tuck his face into the man's chest. It was better there than anywhere near Ian's face again. Ian's arms around him were like a vice grip, and Nathan just lay there, mortified of any movement from Ian right now.

"Sorry." A single word from Ian slid into his ear.

An apology? That was not going to fix the sick feeling in his stomach right now. All he wanted to do was rub his tongue all over his shirt and rinse his mouth out with Listerine until all of his current taste buds died.

"Yeah, I know." Ian's uncaring chuckle drove Nathan to lift his eyes for a glare, but he flinched back as something warm dripped on his cheek. Tears moistened Ian's eyes, and Nathan wiped them off his own face as they fell again.

"I'm a real piece of shit, huh."

That about summed it up. Nathan's neck constricted with his disgust, and there weren't any words except for profanities that he could think of, so he kept his mouth shut. All he could process at the moment was repulsive taste of another man's tongue on his own.

"Come on, Nat. It's out last night together." Ian slid closer again, and Nathan had been done with this the moment Ian had corralled him onto the bed.

Knowing it was going to let loose a whirlwind of problems that would spin and drag him down into chaos later, he brought back his knee and shoved it straight between Ian's legs. The man cursed but had to let him go, and Nathan jumped over him to get out of the bed. Before he made it, Ian grabbed his sleeve in a grip he couldn't escape. There was no turning back, so he slipped the god damn shirt off and fled.

Word count: 3182 -- Edited July 12th, 2020