TWELVE HOURS remain before I'm whizzing by in an expensive taxi, the wind in my hair and the open air filled with the scent of summer. Mere hours before I'm headed to the mansion I've come to know so well, the mansion that has become a second home of sorts for the boy that started with neither. Hours before flying away in a plane, traveling to Pennsylvania and out of this damned city. Away from all my troubles and the stress that has accumulated in a week's time.

Only moonlight shines through the window of my bedroom, the entire building still except for a light breeze that flows through the ajar glass panels. That rustles the bed sheets and disturbs a few stands of blonde hair that are put out of place. There's a light chill unnatural for the summer air, a shiver running the length of my spine with the unexpected hit.

The thought of Gatsby hasn't left me since the moment that he called, his face, his scent, his voice all but consuming my every thought and being since he spoke the simple words that changed me. I'm head over heels for someone I just met, someone that completely took over me in a matter of weeks and nestled themselves so deeply that they can't be torn away.

It seems like so much more than just a simple crush that comes and goes, a skin deep attraction that barely crosses the mind. There's a small part of me ashamed at the fact I let myself fall so hard so quickly but it's overtaken by the overwhelming majority of emotions that has me restless in bed at two in the morning, watching the night life stroll by.

Pulling the blankets closer I listen to the lullaby of the city, to the whir of the machinery working nearby and the honking of late night taxi cars. Far off somewhere is the lightest of jazz rhythms from a club of sorts and the click of heels against the broken sidewalks, accompanied by the dog whistles they attract. New York truly comes alive at night, parts of Gilded still up and moving as production never seizes to stop, always going, always moving, following New York's motto as if it were religion.

Yet I do the same as I toss against the fabric of the sheets, the material catching at the loose strands of my shorts and pulling along with it. My mind is too busy with thoughts and plans and perfect scenarios to go to sleep, eyes wide open until they're red with lack of sleep.

It's only the lightest of knocks that keep me from passing out, that has me dragging my dead limbs out of the bed and across the cold floor of the bedroom towards the locked door. A dark head of hair greets me with the slight opening of the door, a bandaged hand coming up to stop the door from closing.

"I wasn't going to lock you out Moxie, I could use the company anyways." My voice is plagued with sleep, dry and achy with each syllable as the boy pushes his way into the dark room and onto the bed.

"Can't sleep?" He asks, tone matching my own as if he's been kept up as well, eyes wandering towards the window as he waits for a response.

"Nope, what about you? You haven't looked like you've slept in ages."

He laughs tiredly at my remark, pulling himself up in the bed and hooking his long arms around his shins. "I haven't slept in the last week, I keep thinking every noise is Duke how stupid is that?" He laughs at himself though the chime is darkened, a somber undertone ringing out with it. "I keep pushing my dresser against the door it's really messing up the wake up boys' routine."

He's lost weight, the muscle in his arms becoming less defined as he wraps himself closer, huddling into the corner and placing his head against the chill wall. "Well they probably deserve it." I chime in, crawling in next to him and pulling the boy's head into my lap, playing with the mess of hair as it sprawls over my bare skin.

His breath smells of peppermint, lips dry and cracking as they press against the back of my hand before his fingers intertwine in mine. "I've been thinking about Duke a lot actually." It's barely a whisper, his voice too dry to really let out any words though the stress and fear shines through clearly in his eyes. "Every time he sees me he just gives me this look like I killed him or something. Like he's going to kill me..."

"He won't kill you Mox, I'm pretty sure he likes you too much for that."

"He loved me enough to bring his fist to my lips, how's that for a kiss?" Even his half hearted jokes come out raspy, clogged with tears as he turns his face into my lap, and curls his body tightly into mine, holding on to anything that will keep him and his worries grounded.

A part of me stays quiet for a moment, testing the air before asking a question quietly, "Has he ever kissed you?"

He sits up in a second, eyes wide in shock at the question. "No! What the hell, Theo? Does that get you off or something?" He teases with a sideways grin my way, knocking his bandaged wrist into my shoulder playfully.

Something in his expression changes though, eyes sobering and brows simply furrowing in a slight confusion. "Wait, does it?" He slowly asks me, propping himself up on one arm as the room spins, a half-assed excuse scrambling around in my mind.

"No! You know how I feel about that it's disgusting." A part of me feels guilty for saying it, searching for a change in expression this time around now that I know about him. He doesn't seem bothered by it, simply grins and holds onto his shins again, before grabbing a handful of white sheets in his fist absentmindedly.

"I'm not so sure about that. I think you're hiding something from me, Baby." Fuck.

"Oh really? Like what?"

"Well Flower is pretty cute..."

"Flower!? Maybe for a gay like you but I'm not like that I'm into girls!" I scramble, words flowing out my mouth though I don't even know their meaning, just rambling lies to fill the all too quiet void that follows.

"How did you know that?" Double fuck.

"I guess I just noticed-"

"Theo." His voice is hard, eyes cold as they scan my entire soul, peering into them and gauging each lie I'm prepared to spill out. "How did you know that?"

"I swear I just guessed I've known you forever after a while it just kind of came clear to me-"

He cuts in uninterested, his stare burning my cheeks into a fire as I attempt to back up against the wall, trapped in between him and the corner with no place to run. "And I've known you for long enough to know when you're lying to me. Who. Told. You."

The panic is filling to the rim, all my clearly laid out lies collapsing in the heat of the moment as I sit with my mouth agape searching for two words to put together. Moxie always knew how to make me lose my cool, to get me to scramble into a panic in a second's notice. "Moxie, I swear I'm not lying I really did just guess I always thought maybe you and Duke-"

"Bull fucking shit." He spits fire with each word, fingers bruising my thigh as they lean into me, pressuring me for the truth.

"Aleece told me."

It's the water on the flame, his lights extinguishing as he rocks back to face me an empty shell. He cocks a brow in confusion but it slides back into place, eyes slits as he tries to put two and two together in his mind. "Why did Aleece tell you that?" He's truly lost, now being the greatest chance I'll have to divert the truth into a lie, to come up with a better excuse to save both our asses.

Yet I can't. I can't lie to him even if I want to, with his head down cast and body empty, the one time I've really seen him at a loss for what to do. "Moxie... Aleece and I..."

"Baby." He cries, voice strained fighting off the truth to come.

"We're together. I'm going to Pennsylvania tomorrow with him, it's why I can't sleep."

"Theo, no. Please, no." The moon light catches his tear, eyes red and voice strained as it hiccups with pain, a pain that I caused him. The guilt is worst than I imagined, his torment seeping into my soul, the sight of his tears, the sound of his cries etching themselves into my mind forever.

The way his shoulders slump over and tremor every now and again with each broken thought, his eyes never quite meeting mine again as he tries to focus on everything except me. His bloodied knuckles opening up again and staining the sheets he grabs at with a deep red, the mix of blood and tears dotting the bed.

"Please say you aren't together, please no."

"Moxie-" The name barely makes it past my tight throat, my own tears flooding out now at the sight of someone I love so much in so much torment. The fact that I could cause this leaving me just as empty as he is, the room silent except for our combined cries seeping into the walls and soaking into the night air.

"You fucking bitch."

It's my turn to be the one broken down and crying, to be the one silently shaking as my tears cover his, breaths heavy and trembling as I gasp out for breath. "Moxie, please w-we're family."

"Family doesn't do this to each other!" He screams, his pain turning to anger as it always does, bursting the silence with the slamming of a fist against the wall.

"I didn't know, Moxie, I swear I didn't know, I wouldn't have said yes I wouldn't have been with him if I knew that you loved him I didn't know, Moxie. Please, I'm so sorry." The tears aren't enough, the room falling back into a silence as he comes to a false still, a chaos still brewing inside him only made known with the balling of a fist.

"You knew when you said yes to go with him."

A scream is accompanied to the sound of bone colliding with brick. The heat of his flesh radiating off him as his fist lies so close to my cheek, my mouth still open though no sound comes out, my next scream half strangled by fear. He can't bring himself to look at me, anger still wafting off of him and heating the room to a boil as I curl into myself useless and frightened and drowning in my own tears.

I want to be strong like him. I want to stand up for myself and scream that I'm allowed to make this choice, that I'm allowed to be with who I want. It was nine years ago he shouldn't still feel this way, neither of them should still feel this way. Yet instead I'm curling into a ball against the blood splattered wall, snot dripping onto my knees as Moxie turns to leave me in a tear soaked silence.

"We're family..." I whisper into the void.

Moxie stops in his tracks, shoulders rising and falling too fast, fists balling again as they're filled with one more strike that never quite comes, just a single question before he leaves the room for good. Leaves me rotting in guilt and sorrow and his pain that he gifted me with.

"Are we?"