gk, you who are my home, 5/9, nc17, brad/nate/ray, 10,181

[sephirothflame]

It’s strange, being back in school. It feels like it’s been a lifetime since no one looked at him like he was delicate, like he was going to break down in the middle of the conversation or be snatched away from under their noses.

Nate knows Walt still worries. He can see it in Walt’s eyes when he catches him staring, but Walt always flashes him a brilliant smile and pretends everything is okay. They do a lot of that; pretending everything is okay. It will be, because Nate is determined to make it that way.

His parents worry, too, but after the first two weeks he eases off the daily, hour long phone calls into five minute updates here and there when he remembers to. It’s like being in high school again, asking for his parent’s permission to go to Walt’s after school and maybe stop by the movies and 7-11 at some point, if that’s cool, thanks.

It’s easy to lose himself in homework and essays, going to study groups and smiling at Gabe across battered tables in the library. It almost feels normal again and Nate does everything he can to push Spring Break to the back of his mind. It’s a good distraction, all the work, and Nate throws himself into it head first and for once Walt doesn’t complain about Nate over working himself.

Sometimes though, sometimes Nate can feel an acute panic bubbling up inside of him and it takes everything in him to keep his heart from exploding out of his chest and screaming. He hates it, this helpless feeling he gets and the randomness of attacks. Nate’s too old to feel this pathetic, to feel like he needs to hold his best friend’s hand so that he doesn’t break down crying. It’s bad enough that sometimes Nate finds himself wandering into Walt’s room in the middle of the night and curling up on top of his covers.

Walt is too good to say anything to Nate about the random, late night sleepovers. If he wakes up at all, he passes Nate a pillow and lets him take a corner of the blankets. Most of the time he just sleeps through it, rapidly becoming accustomed to the fact that Nate is in his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to have a panic attack. Nate would joke about Walt ignoring him, but he can’t. It’s good that at least one of them is getting some sleep.

It’s a start, though, and it’s better than nothing. Things are getting back to normal, and maybe it’s taking way longer than Nate wishes it would, but it’s getting there. Nate has to cling to the hope he won’t be like this forever or he might just fall apart for good, Walt’s quiet reassurances or not.

- - -

Nate’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom, staring at the fading bruises on his hips in his reflection when Walt walks in. It’s not completely unusual for the two of them to be in the bathroom at the same time when they’ve only got the one between the two of them, so Nate doesn’t even bat his eyelashes. He scoots over to give Walt room at the sink to run a comb through his hair and tries to remember when his next essay is due.

It takes Nate a minute to realize Walt is staring at him, amused quirk to his lips, and Nate stops trying to scrub at his molars. “Can I help you with something?” he asks, not bothering to spit out the foaming mess of toothpaste first. He brings his hand up to catch a dribble of it as it escapes the corner of his mouth, and Walt wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Do you have a date?”

”No,” Walt says, and Nate frowns, because it doesn’t explain why Walt’s got on what Gabe calls his seducing jeans and trying to manage the hectic mess of his hair. “We - “ he gestures between the two of them with his comb “ - are going to a party tonight. It’s Maria’s roommate’s birthday.”

”Do I even know Maria or her roommate?” Nate asks warily. He rubs at his teeth with his toothbrush idly before leaning forward to spit out his toothpaste. “I don’t want to go to a party,” he continues, turning on the faucet and cupping his hands under it to catch water, rinsing out his mouth. “I just put on my sweats. I want to go to bed.”

”We both know you aren’t actually going to sleep,” Walt counters. He puts down his comb and folds his arms over his chest, giving Nate a stern look. “You’re coming with me tonight.” His expression softens a little when Nate’s closes off, and Walt drops his hands. “Nate. Just come for a little while. Gabe will be there. It’ll be good for you. You won’t be alone.”

Nate clenches his jaw because he hates being treated like a child, like he doesn’t know what’s best for him. “I said I didn’t want to go,” he says, squeezing between Walt and the wall so he can leave the small bathroom, making his way for his room. “And I’m fine.”

”I swear to God, if you slam that door,” Walt starts, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. He follows Nate to his room, catching the door before Nate manages to push it closed in his face and invites himself inside. He ignores the glare Nate sends him and moves towards Nate’s closet, pulling it open and rifling through it. “We are going to a party. We are going to get a little drunk and hang out with friends and maybe at least one of us will get laid.”

Folding his arms over his chest, Nate glowers at Walt. “Did it ever occur to you - or Gabe - that maybe I don’t want to have sex?” Nate asks bitterly. He’s still got bruises around his wrists and hips, a faded bite mark on his shoulder, and Nate doubts they’ll be gone anytime soon.

Something twists tight in his stomach, but it’s not the fear of sex. He isn’t scared of the thought of having sex. He can think about it and yeah, maybe he’s missing out on something, but then he remembers Gabe’s hand on his ankle and that twisting feeling in Nate’s stomach intensifies and he can feel a panic attack edging on.

They didn’t hurt him, not in a bad way, not in a way he didn’t allow them to. Nate keeps telling himself this, because he knows what the bite on his neck and the bruises around his wrists make people think, make his parents and Walt think, but it wasn’t like that. Maybe Nate would have said no if the situation was different but maybe he wouldn’t have. In any other situation the appeal would have been thrilling, the sex fantastic.

He has to keep telling himself this because he can’t think of himself as any more of a victim than he already does. Nate isn’t weak. He doesn’t need to be coddled or taken care of or pitied, and he isn’t going to be able to prove that to anyone, let alone himself, if he thinks of himself as one.

”I’m sorry,” Walt starts, biting at his lip and looking at Nate with wide eyes. “I didn’t - “

”It’s fine,” Nate says, cutting Walt off before he can start. Of all the things they could talk about, that is the absolute last conversation Nate wants to have with anybody. He ignores the way Walt’s gaze drops to the bruises on his hips, ugly and dark against his pale, freckled skin. “Stop.”

”Sorry,” Walt says again, looking away from Nate quickly and staring into the expanse of his closet. There isn’t much in there, not to warrant the size of it, but Walt flips through everything with slow care. “I still think you should come with me tonight, though,” Walt continues, but his tone isn’t half as forceful.

Nate wants to tell him ‘no’, because going to a party is the absolute last thing he wants to do tonight, especially if he doesn’t know who it’s for or why they’re going. He doesn’t though, because it occurs to him that playing along and giving Walt what he wants might just be the fastest way to shut him up about this. Running his hands through his hair, Nate makes a frustrated sound. “Fine,” he says, giving in. “I’ll come along for an hour.”

There’s a triumphant little smirk on Walt’s face as soon as the words are out of Nate’s mouth and he searches through Nate’s closet with renewed vigor. “It’ll be fun,” he says, tugging a shirt out and tossing it to Nate. “One last free night to party before everyone cracks down to turn in their work on time and study for finals and hopefully not fail this final semester of college.”

Nate shakes his shirt out, sparing a glance to see just which one Walt tossed at him before he pulls it on. “And you score some brownie points with Mary by dragging out your moping roommate and going to her roommate’s party,” Nate adds, letting his voice trail off.

”Maria,” Walt corrects, and he passes Nate a pair of grey jeans. “These too,” he says as he hands them over. He makes his way over to Nate’s bad, collapsing back on it. He stares up at the ceiling while Nate changes, but it’s not really to give him any privacy. He’s seen Nate in less clothing, doing worse. “It’ll be fun.”

”Sure,” Nate says weakly as he pulls on his jeans and buttons them. They’re loose on his hips, and he wonders when he last wore them and how much weight he’s lost since then. He doesn’t feel like he’s lost weight. Sighing heavily, Nate rubs a hand over his face before mussing up his hair, tugging at the strands roughly. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

”That is the completely wrong attitude,” Walt says, tsk tsk tsking at Nate. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and eyes Nate, pursing his lips and making a thoughtful sound at whatever it is he sees. He stands up slowly, stretching languorously, before flashing Nate a grin. “Trust me, this is a good idea.”

Nate isn’t entirely sure he agrees with Walt or this logic, but he nods his head anyways. Anything to help Walt relax, to think he isn’t half as broken as he is. If worse comes to worst, he’ll stick around for an hour as promised and then just come home. It will probably be easier for Walt to impress Maria if Nate isn’t around, but he said he’d show, so Nate will do just that. At least for a little while, long enough to keep his word.

- - -

The party has already started by the time Walt and Nate show up. Maria and her roommate live in an apartment off campus, not too far from where Nate and Walt do, and the small space is crammed with people and music is blaring over the stereo system in the living room. They’re invited in by a girl Nate is pretty sure he had Algebra with his freshman year, but isn’t either of the girls who lives there. It feels like an omen of some sort, but Nate doesn’t know what it means.

He trails after Walt into the kitchen, trying to ignore the hot press of bodies and the obvious interest in the eyes of people he doesn’t know. He just wants to drink cheap beer out of a red cup and pretend like he’s in high school again, too young to be drinking but doing it anyway because Walt wants to and Nate can’t let Walt do anything on his own.

They’ve barely been at the party for five minutes and Nate is already debating the merits of cutting and running. He can hide out in the kitchen until Walt meanders off to talk to Maria and trade puppy dog eyes instead of flirting and then make a break for it as soon as Walt’s back is turned. The more Nate thinks about it, the better the idea sounds.

Walt is smarter than Nate gives him credit for, though, and frowns at Nate over the lip of his cup. He doesn’t say I know what you’re thinking and I do not approve but he doesn’t have to for it to be obvious it’s what he’s thinking. “One hour, Nate,” Walt reminds him gently. “You agreed to come for one hour.”

”I am definitely starting to regret that decision,” Nate mutters into his cup. He ignores the look Walt is giving him and takes a sip. He sighs, before looking at Walt proper. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not running away. I said I’ll stick around for an hour and I will.”

Nodding his head in approval, Walt takes a sip of his drink. “Good boy,” he says. “Can I trust you enough to leave you on your own, or do you want to hold my hand while I find Maria?”

The look Nate shoots Walt is withering but Walt just waves it off. “I am old enough to stay out of trouble on my own, thanks,” Nate says. “Also, you’re a dick.”

Walt just makes a vague sound, all What can you do?, before he downs the last of his beer and crushes his cup in his fist. He steps closer to Nate, touching his elbow lightly, and his expression turns serious. “I’m around if you need me. If you really want to go, we can. You don’t have to stay if you’re going to have another - “ He stops himself before he says ‘panic attack’, because he’s smart enough to figure out that Nate hates everything about those two words. “ - Just come find me.”

”I’ll be fine, Walt,” Nate says, shaking his head and side stepping away from Walt. “You don’t need to babysit me every minute of every day. I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much.”

”I know that,” Walt says, and he almost looks hurt. “But I’m your best friend and you’re mine. It’s my job to worry about you and take care of you. Besides, I promised your mom I’d look after you and she’d skin my hide if you came home with so much a hair missing from your stupid little head.”

Nate rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his beer. It’s as effective a way of biting his tongue as any and it’s better than admitting any of the things sitting heavy on his chest right now. “Go find Maria before she thinks you didn’t show and doesn’t ever want to hold your hand.”

”Who said anything about hand holding in the near future?” Walt asks, quirking an eyebrow and putting his hands on his hips petulantly. It just serves to make Nate laugh, and Walt to grin at him, his cheeks tinging slightly. “Okay, shut up. We are not too old for me to bite you.”

Pointedly not thinking about the fading bite mark on the back of his neck and the uncomfortable heat that flares at the words, Nate shakes his head. “I think it would send across the wrong message to the girl you want to hold hands with if you bite another guy in her kitchen. Especially when everyone already knows my preferences. There were rumors about us, you know.”

”Believe me, I know,” Walt says, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Completely unfounded and gross.” He holds up a hand when Nate opens his mouth to object. “You are my brother. I would rather cut off my dick than put it anywhere near you.”

”The feeling is mutual,” Nate assures him. He drains the last of his beer before putting the red cup on the counter. He turns to Walt and shoves at his chest lightly, pushing him back towards the party and where he inevitably has more friends who are better company and in more of a partying spirit than Nate. “Go find Maria before you lose your chance for good, Walt. I don’t want to hear you bitching about this later.”

”Yes, sir,” Walt says. He grins and snaps Nate a mock salute before he turns on his heels and leaves Nate alone - relatively speaking - in the kitchen. He maneuvers through the bodies in the living room easily, flashing grins and talking to people as he passes them, before he eventually stops in a corner, talking to someone Nate can’t quite make out.

Nate spares a look at his watch, willing for the minutes to tick by faster, so he can go home already. He doesn’t know how long he spends staring at the scratched surface, willing for the second hand to speed up, but suddenly there’s a touch to his hip and he’s nearly jumping out of his skin.

”Jesus, Nate,” someone says, and Gabe is staring at Nate with a concerned look when he turns around to see who touched him. It doesn’t do anything to stop the racing of his heart and Gabe almost looks guilty. “I don’t remember you ever startling this easy before.”

”It’s just been a long week,” Nate says, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “How have you been? Enjoying the party?” Nate takes a step back as he’s talking, moving until he bumps into a mostly clean section of counter and leans his ass against it, folding his arms over his chest and trying to force himself to relax.

Gabe moves forward with Nate, making a thoughtful sound. He isn’t quite standing between Nate’s legs, his palms resting on the counter of either side of Nate’s hips, but it’s a close thing. He’s got Nate trapped, but not enough that Nate couldn’t push past him if he wanted to, and Nate doesn’t know if that was intentional or not. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

”I’m not avoiding you, Gabe,” Nate says. He drops his arms from his chest, covering Gabe’s hands with his own. “I graduate at the end of semester. I’ve just had a lot of work to do. And family drama to work through.”

The look Gabe is giving him makes it obvious he doesn’t believe a word out of Nate’s mouth. He shifts closer, marginally so, and Nate can feel something heavy in his stomach. “If you want to end the friends with benefits thing then just tell me. Just pretending this never happened isn’t going to make it go away. We tried that once, remember?”

Nate opens his mouth before closing it again. He has no idea what Gabe is talking about, except, when he thinks about it, he can kind of see where Gabe is coming from. It’s been over a month since they’ve fucked, the longest they’ve gone without since they agreed that occasionally getting drunk and feeling each other up then regretting it was stupid and they should do it regularly, sober and be okay with it.

Gabe takes Nate’s silence to mean that Nate does want to end it, though, and pulls his hands free from Nate and tries to step back. “I never thought you’d be such an asshole - “

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Nate is reaching forward and grabbing Gabe’s hips. He doesn’t tug him back forward, though he wants to, and he isn’t sure why. “I’m sorry,” he starts, ducking his head apologetically. “I didn’t - I’m not avoiding you. I don’t want to end this.”

”You’ve got a great way of showing it,” Gabe says, but he inches in closer, catching his weight on his palms again. “How’s your boyfriend back home going to take it when he finds out you’re still fucking around with your college friend?”

Nate blanches. “What?” He asks, staring at Gabe in confusion. “I don’t have a boyfriend anywhere.”

”So the person who left all the bites and bruises on your skin was, what, just some guy?” Gabe asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Your family was having issues and you were skipping out on them for the night to - oh God, please tell me you and Walt aren’t - “

”No!” Nate says vehemently. It should be funny, the accusation of sleeping with Walt after expressing his distaste at the thought not half an hour ago, but Nate can’t find the humor in it right now. “Walt and I are definitely not fucking. Just - no. There’s no one. This - “ he gestures at himself and hopes Gabe is smart enough to realize Nate means the marks “ - was a mistake. It’s not going to happen again.”

There’s a look of relief on Gabe’s face and he slips in close enough to lean against Nate’s chest, his cheek against Nate’s shoulder and breath warm on Nate’s throat. “Good,” he says softly, his voice almost lost to the sound of the party, “because I don’t think this would work if that’s what you were into these days. I always thought Walt would be seriously kinky like that, though.”

Nate hmms softly and after a moment of indecision, wraps his arms around Gabe’s hips in a loose hug. They’re not usually this intimate when they’re still wearing clothes, and even then their relationship has always been about homework and sex. If Gabe is angling for sex, it’s certainly a new approach, but not one Nate can imagine will work.

Something is broken in Nate when it comes to sex these days. He’s got his fair share of porn on his laptop, of experiences with other boys he’s had classes with or met in bars, but unless Nate is digging his fingers into his bruises hard enough to hurt he can’t get off. It doesn’t matter what he starts off thinking about, his mind always wanders to fingers around his throat, fisted in his hair, the sharp bite of teeth and fingers pressed bruising tight against his hips.

The worst part is, Nate doesn’t want it. Nate has never been interested in sex like that. He likes sex with boys like Gabe, who like it slow and deep and sweet and moan so prettily when Nate fucks them. Sex isn’t supposed to hurt. And maybe Nate’s doing it all wrong by sleeping with Gabe when he doesn’t love him, doesn’t think he could ever love him as anything other than a friend, but Nate trusts Gabe. He trusts Gabe not to hurt him.

But, Nate thinks idly, it feels good to have Gabe in his arms, pressed against his chest. It’s nice having someone to just hold with no ulterior motives, someone who isn’t Walt or family. Nate could get used to this, he thinks, and maybe if he tries hard enough, he could love Gabe. Gabe’s a good person, he’s smart and funny and he’s the kind of guy Nate could bring home to his parents, maybe.

”Do you ever think we’re going about this the wrong way?” Nate asks Gabe softly, tightening his grip when Gabe tries to push away, and he smiles when Gabe tips his head up to frown at Nate. “I mean. This friends with benefits thing. Do you ever wonder - “

”Nate,” Gabe says softly, cutting him off. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who wanted to just be friends with benefits. Who thought we would butt heads way too much if we were anything more. And I want you to remember you’ve been treating me pretty crappily for the last few weeks and then think about the next words out of your mouth.”

There’s probably a point to Gabe’s words, but Nate isn’t entirely sure what it is. So maybe his decision to take this to the next step is rash. It never occurred to him that maybe Gabe wouldn’t want something more. They get along wonderfully. The sex is amazing. They’ve gotten to know each other pretty well in the last two years. Nate doesn’t understand why Gabe wouldn’t want to be more than just friends with benefits.

Unless Gabe doesn’t love Nate, either. Not in the way that matters, anyways.

The thought that Gabe doesn’t love him doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it probably should. Nate wonders if Gabe is as indifferent to Nate’s lack of affection as he is. He wonders if this is another one of those signs that he’s been ignoring all night, if it means if he should just shut his mouth and shut up while he’s still ahead.

”I just want to try,” Nate says softly, brushing his lips against Gabe’s temple. He knows that this is probably a bad idea, he doesn’t do well when it comes to dating but most of that has to do with his father’s influence or the fact that people assume he’s sleeping with Walt. If he tries, if they try, maybe he and Gabe could be happy together. If it doesn’t work, well, they’re graduating in a few months and won’t have to see each other ever again if they don’t want to. Nate tells Gabe this and smiles when Gabe laughs against his chest.

”Just so we’re on the same page here, you mean hand holding and dates with food and movies and making out on the couch when Walt isn’t around,” Gabe says, and this time when he pushes away, Nate lets him go. He doesn’t go far, just pushes far enough away from Nate to meet his eyes, quirking an eyebrow. “I’m going to assume you also mean no more late night bootie calls.”

”That last part could probably be negotiated,” Nate says, smiling softly. He holds onto Gabe’s hips and tries to imagine what it would be like to wake up to him, to be allowed to kiss him whenever and know it’s just the two of them, no more one night stands with men they meet in bars or boys from class. Nate can’t remember the last time he was in a committed relationship, but he had to have been in high school. It feels like a lifetime ago. “If you want things to stay how they are now, that’s fine, too.”

”I think my odds of getting laid will probably increase if I go along with this,” Gabe says. It doesn’t come across as harsh, but Nate still feels guilty. Gabe just looks thoughtful though, like he’s honestly considering this plan, and it’s a start. “Do you want to get out of here?” Gabe asks suddenly, and it’s not what Nate was expecting, but he can work with it. “I can’t hear myself think.”

”Lead the way,” Nate says, dropping his hands from Gabe’s hips and pushing himself up. He leans forward to steal a kiss, pressing his lips to the corner of Gabe’s mouth, and he can’t help but grin when Gabe looks startled and pleased. “I just gotta tell Walt first before he freaks out.”

”Right,” Gabe says, nodding his head before tipping it in the direction of the front door. “I’ll meet you by the stairs in a minute, then.”

This time, Nate doesn’t wait to be left alone in the kitchen. He walks behind Gabe, his fingers pressed to the small of Gabe’s back through his sweater and he thinks he could get used to this. Gabe keeps going for the door though and Nate has to maneuver through the bodies of people he’s never met to get to the corner where Walt has got his hands on a girl’s hips and is swaying with her lightly.

”Hi, Nate,” she says, and Nate thinks, This is Maria. He knows her, though he can’t quite place why he knows her or from where, but she’s got a nice smile and Nate could see why Walt would be interested. Her words have Walt turning to look at him, his expression worried only for a second until he sees Nate’s okay.

”I’m really sorry, Maria, but I’ve gotta go,” Nate says, and Maria only looks a little put out at the words. Glancing at Walt, Nate flashes him a small smile. “Gabe and I are going to find somewhere a little more quiet to talk.”

”Right, talk,” Walt says, flashing Nate a cheeky little grin. It’s obvious that Walt doesn’t expect Nate and Gabe to do much talking, and Nate would correct him because he doesn’t have any intentions of sleeping with Gabe, but this is probably another one of those lies that Nate is going to have to tell so that Walt thinks he’s getting better. It’s for Walt’s own good. “Remember, common areas are no-go.”

”I’ll keep that in mind,” Nate says wryly. He touches Walt’s shoulder briefly, to reassure him that Nate really is okay, before flashing Maria another smile. “It was nice to see you,” he adds, because it’s polite, and then he’s pushing away from them and making his way back to the front door and to Gabe.

Gabe is waiting exactly where he said he would be, whistling something Nate recognizes but can’t name. He flashes Nate a grin when he sees him come close, offering out his hand. He looks at Nate expectantly and it takes Nate a second to realize that if they’re going to be dating, they should hold hands. He smiles softer when Nate takes his hand, and tugs him towards the staircase. “So where do you want to go?”

”You’re the one who asked me to ditch the party, shouldn’t you be the one with the grand master plan?” Nate asks. It feels weird to be holding Gabe’s hand, their fingers tangled together. He’s not used to holding hands. It’s not bad though, mostly just warm, and Nate squeezes Gabe’s hand lightly. “We could get a drink or something.”

”We just left a party full of free alcohol,” Gabe says, frowning. “We should have snagged a bottle or two when we left. What were we thinking?” He makes a frustrated sound, and Nate nods his head in agreement. He doesn’t say anything else until they push their way out through the doors into a parking lot and he asks, “Do you still smoke?”

”Sometimes,” Nate admits. “I don’t have any on me, if that’s what you’re asking.” He pats his pockets down quickly without letting go of Gabe’s hand, and manages to pull out a pink Bic. “I have this, though.”

”I thought you had a Zippo,” Gabe says. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his hip pocket and pulls one out for himself, before offering the carton to Nate. He shrugs when Nate shakes his head, but he lets Nate flick the lighter on and light his cigarette for him.

”I did,” Nate says, shrugging weakly. “I lost in when I went home.” For the life of him, he can’t remember the last time he saw the silver Zippo. He just knows he had it when he and Walt were sneaking cigarettes after their welcome home dinner at Walt’s place. It didn’t occur to him to make sure he had it with him when he was packing to come back to school, though. “It’s probably in my room. Or one of my sisters stole it.”

”Claire smokes now, doesn’t she?” Gabe asks. He tips his head to the side, blowing smoke awake from Nate’s face. It’s an appreciated gesture, and there’s a lazy smile on Gabe’s face when he looks back at Nate. “She’s what, sixteen? Super rebellious. Probably picked up the bad habit from her brother.”

”She’s seventeen,” Nate corrects. He rubs a hand over his face idly, humming out a soft sound in thought. “She’s the reason I quit, sort of. My parents would skin me alive if they knew she was stealing her cigarettes from me.”

Gabe makes a humming sound in response, before tugging at Nate’s fingers and dragging him close enough to lean against his side, cheek resting against Nate’s shoulder as he smokes. “We could go back to your place and watch a movie or something,” Gabe suggests. “We don’t have to - “ Gabe rolls his hips slightly and waggles his eyebrows. “ - if you don’t want.”

Nate laughs softly, but it’s more out of relief than amusement. He smiles when Gabe smiles at him, and assumes Gabe thinks it was the former reason, but if it means he’s not going to press the issue than Nate isn’t going to correct him or complain. “That could be fun.”

”It beats standing out here waiting for something to happen,” Gabe replies. He takes one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it under his heel. “Come on,” Gabe says, and he’s tugging at their still joined fingers, and Nate has no objections at all to being led away.

- - -

Nate wakes up alone on the living room floor. At first, he’s not sure what woke him up, but he can hear soft laughter coming from the kitchen as Gabe and Walt - Nate is sure, because he can’t think of who else would be in the apartment - try to stay quiet while he sleeps. He thinks Walt must not have gotten laid if he’s home already and it’s just past eight, and Nate wonders if this means he’d rather go slow with Maria and do this thing proper.

How weird it would be for both of them to start dating someone on the same night because of the same party. Not that it’d be bad, just weird. Nate doesn’t know if he and Walt have ever both had romantic interests at the same time.

”Are you going to stick around until Nate wakes up?” Walt asks, his voice soft, but it still carries through the apartment well enough. “I mean, now that you two are - “ he stops talking, probably to make a hand gesture “ - or whatever?”

”I probably should,” Gabe replies. He’s quiet for a moment, and so is Walt, and Nate has to strain his ears to hear anything beyond the soft clunk of one of the heavy coffee mugs against their shitty table. “This really isn’t my place, but, I’m worried. I mean, the nightmares.”

Walt sighs heavily and Nate wishes he could see his face and he prays to God Walt doesn’t tell Gabe anything. “Don’t mention them to him,” Walt says, which is a safe enough answer. “You know Nate. It fucks with him enough that he has them in the first place. It’s bad enough he knows I know about them and that his parents do. He doesn’t want people to think he’s weak or scared.”

”What happened to Nate, Walt?” Gabe asks, and he doesn’t just sound curious. He’s honestly worried about Nate. “Whatever he’s doing to get over it, it’s killing him. Coming back all banged up, too. You can’t tell me his dad - “

”We don’t talk about it,” Walt says, cutting Gabe short. It’s obvious from his tone that he means We aren’t going to talk about it. “Nate just needs time to get over what happened. He’s gonna be okay. Just don’t worry about him or he’s going to be even more of a bitch.”

”I don’t know if you knew this, but everyone is worried about Nate,” Gabe replies. There’s a soft creaking and a heavy sigh. “I know you two are close because you grew up together, but the rest of us aren’t stupid. We know Nate well enough to when something is off.”

”Gabe, stop,” Walt says, and the easy tone of his voice is gone, replaced with something more serious. “Seriously. I know you and Nate are - whatever - and I’m fine with that. Really. As long as Nate is happy, I couldn’t care less if you two wore matching sweaters everywhere or built yourselves a kinky BDSM dungeon. You and me, we’re still friends. Just. Don’t. This isn’t something he’s ready to talk about with anyone.”

”So something did happen to him,” Gabe says, and there’s something about the way he says it that makes Nate’s skin crawl. He thinks, this is the point where he stops eavesdropping on his friends and rolls over, lets them know he’s awake, but before he can do that, Gabe continues with “he was raped, wasn’t he?” but it doesn’t sound like a question.

Something clenches tight in Nate’s stomach and he has to fight the urge to vomit, dry heave up everything inside of him. His brain screams no! because he wasn’t - he can’t bring himself to even think the word, but he knows that he wasn’t. He wasn’t coerced into making the offer, he doesn’t even regret it beyond the haunting of memories of warm hands all over his body, and anything is better than death.

Walt’s voice is so small and broken when he speaks, that the hurt inside of Nate just intensifies. “I think so, yeah.”

Nate wonders how hard this must be for Walt, to just sit back and watch as Nate falls apart even though he’s trying so hard to hold it all together. For Walt to think the worst of what could have happened to Nate and just sit back and bite his tongue because he knows Nate needs one person who didn’t press this. Walt probably feels like a shitty best friend and it’s all Nate’s fault.

”Jesus Christ,” Gabe breathes.

Nate’s had enough with pretending, listening to them talk about him in the other room. He sits up slowly and stretches, groaning loudly as the muscles in his back protest and his shoulders pop. He blinks at them when they both turn to stare, and they look like deer caught in the headlights. For a second, Nate debates letting them know he heard. He doesn’t want them to live with the same guilt he’s going to have over the conversation though, so he settles for lying.

It’s alarming how good Nate has got at lying in the last few weeks. He should be ashamed of himself, but he can’t work up the energy to do it.

”Hey,” Nate says softly. He pushes himself up onto his feet and stretches again, not as wide, and he smooths one hand over his stomach to tug his shirt back down to hide his bruises. There’s no point in pretending they’re not there, but he’d rather not be stared at because of them if he can help it.

”Hey,” Walt and Gabe both chime back at him. They share a look, something relieved and a little amused, before Walt pushes away from their rickety little table to fetch a mug and pour Nate a cup of coffee. It’s still hot when he hands it over, and Nate sighs heavily after his first sip.

”Didn’t hear you get back last night,” Nate says. He slips into a chair, angling it enough that he can smile at Gabe over his mug, and he hopes it just comes off as tired rather than strained. “You have fun at the party?”

”Last night was more like this morning,” Walt says. He glances at his watch, lips moving softly as he does mental math. “About three and a half hours ago. Stayed over with Maria. We, ah, slept in her roommate’s bed. We’ve got a date tonight.”

”No deal sealing on Walt’s side,” Gabe informs Nate, making a soft tsk-tsk-tsk sound under his breath. He slides his foot out until he bumps into Nate and he smiles tiredly. “You sleep okay?”

There’s something off about the question but Nate can’t quite place what. He stares blankly at Gabe and tries not to think about fists in his hair and fingers on his hips, forcing him down and bending him over the coffee table. “Eh,” Nate says, because ambiguity feels safer than trying to give Gabe the answer he wants. “You?”

”Next time we aim for making it to the bed,” Gabe replies. There’s a wry little smile on his face, though, so Nate just sips at his coffee again and lets the comment hang. Downing the last of his coffee, Gabe puts his mug on the table. “I should get going,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve got work this afternoon and I want to shower and work on my essay before then.”

”Okay,” Walt says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Gabe makes a vaguely affirmative sound before standing up. He lets Nate reach out and drag him forward by a belt loop, and he’s smart enough to pick up the fact Nate’s aiming for a kiss. It’s soft, barely a peck, because Walt is in the room and because Nate can’t work up the energy or enthusiasm for more than that. “I’ll call you,” Gabe says, tapping a finger to Nate’s nose softly. Then he’s pushing away and Nate is letting him go, making his way out of the apartment without a backwards glance.

Walt waits for the door to snick shut behind Gabe before he looks at Nate warily. “You heard every word of our conversation, didn’t you?”

Nate wonders if this is the part where he’s supposed to feel guilty for eavesdropping. Mostly, he just feels tired and achy from sleeping on the floor. Maybe the guilt is in him, somewhere, hiding in the same part of his body with the part of him that feels bad for lying to his friends and family. “Most of it.”

For a long moment, Walt is quiet, just staring into the depths of his coffee cup like it’ll have whatever answers he’s searching for. Eventually though, he sighs, and looks up at Nate. “I don’t suppose you want to talk about it.”

”Not really,” Nate says. He takes another sip from his mug before pushing it across the table towards Walt. “I’m going to go take a shower and go back to bed. I’m exhausted and sore.”

”Alrighty then,” Walt says, but he doesn’t push the issue. It’s obvious that he wants to in the thin press of his lips and the weariness of his eyes, and Nate wonders how much longer he has before Walt snaps and demands Nate talk to someone about this like his parents do.

Nate hesitates after he stands up for this very reason, looking down across the table and Walt and biting his lip. “I just need a little more time, Walt.”

”Okay,” Walt says, blinking up at Nate. His expression doesn’t soften much and he bites his lip. “Okay,” he says again, running his fingers through his hair. “You know I’m always going to be here for you when you are ready to talk, you know?”

Nate smiles softly. “I know.”

- - -

Gabe’s words plague Nate. It had never occurred to him that anyone would notice there was anything off about him, would catch a glimpse of the fading bruises on his wrists or the bite on his neck and think anything was wrong. These are people he goes to school with, people he’s friends with, but Nate’s never really considered how deeply that bond runs. It was inevitable for Gabe to worry, of this is Nate is sure, but for everyone else?

The problem is, now that Nate has this information, he doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t know how to reassure everyone he’s fine because apparently throwing himself into work and pushing past his issues wasn’t cutting it. There isn’t an alternative solution here. Nate isn’t going to sit down and talk about his feelings, about what happened.

Nate is tired of people worrying about him. He’s tired of being treated like he’s going to blow up or break down at any moment. He’s not fragile and he definitely doesn’t need to be treated like he is. The last thing Nate wants is to be treated with kid gloves, for people to watch him with worried frowns and whisper behind his back.

The only thing Nate can see distracting attention away from himself and his apparent issues is the fact that they’re all graduating in two months. Surely, that’s enough for anyone to stop worrying about anyone else and focus on themselves, on writing essays and cramming for last minute tests so they can get all of their requirements out of the way.

It occurs to Nate in hindsight that maybe this wasn’t the best time to ask Gabe out, because they’re both going to be busy as fuck in these next few weeks. He had to take a chance though, if he wants to make things okay again. He doesn’t want to lose Gabe, as a friend or anything else. Nate’s sure Gabe can understand school related stress keeping them apart. Maybe.

Nate misses the days before his life was so complicated, where he didn’t have to lie to the people who matter most or have dreams about getting fucked in ways he doesn’t want no matter how much his body disagrees. When he was just Nate, who couldn’t keep a boyfriend to save his life and he didn’t know why, who sometimes worked himself to death and got nagged at by his best friend.

Granted, that last part is still true as Walt can be awfully fond of nagging sometimes, but the point still stands. Nate would give almost anything to go back to before Spring Break, to pick up an extra shift at work even though he was on vacation instead of going to the gym. Maybe things would have played out differently then.

Maybe.

But Nate knows better than to deal in what ifs and he isn’t about to let himself tumble down that spiral on top of everything else. It happened. He’s not going to get past it if he keeps avoiding it, as much as he is loathe to admit it, and he isn’t going to get better if he tries to think of all the ways he could have changed it, stopped it.

It feels like admitting defeat and that hurts almost as much as everything else does. Nate’s never been a sore loser, but this is his life and his soul spread out and being torn apart. It sucks. He doesn’t know any other way to describe it other than it seriously fucking sucks.

Idly, Nate wonders if it’s too soon in the day to start drinking. It’s five o’clock somewhere, Nate is sure, but it’s usually Walt or Gabe pulling a line like that. Plus, Walt’s got a date tonight, and while Nate is sure Walt would get shitfaced with Nate if he thought it would really help him, Nate doesn’t want to drag Walt down with him and ruin both of their chances for happiness forever.

The obvious solution is to get drunk on his own, but Nate’s not quite sure he’s reached that level of pathetic yet. It doesn’t seem like a good idea, either, knowing his luck. Not that he assumes anyone is going to burst through his bedroom window and kidnap him again. It’s more that Nate hates being trapped alone with his thoughts as is, he can’t imagine the situation would be any better with alcohol pumping through his system.

Nate flops down onto his bed, spread out like a star on top of his covers and tries to calm the racing of his thoughts. He can’t drink, not alone, and he doesn’t feel like inviting Gabe over just to get drunk. He doesn’t want to fuck him, not really, but he thinks he probably could if the situation came up. Maybe. Walt will probably be out all night, assuming his date goes well. Then again, if he’s trying to do right by Maria and take it slow...

Nate’s been dealing with too many maybes in his life recently. He really wishes that would stop. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath seems like the only good answer he’s got right now, but Nate is willing to start small. Anything to regain even a tiny bit of control in his life right now, that’s all he’s really asking for.

He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but he doesn’t really object to the heaviness in his eyelids or the soreness of his body. He could probably use the rest, he thinks idly as he starts to drift off. Anything is better than laying here all alone and moping, anyway.

Nate dreams about being fucked, of being passed between two hot bodies and just being used. It isn’t any more graphic than usual, the hands in his hair, tugging roughly as he tries to give head and the way he feels like he’s being torn apart at the seams. He can hear the distant echo of praises So good, Nate, just like that, such a good boy drowning out the sound of his own begging for More, please, harder. He doesn’t know what disturbs him more, the fact he’s having dreams like this in the first place or that his dream self is gagging for it.

It’s probably fucked up to dream about it, but not the people who did it to him. Nate tries to tell himself it has to do with the fact that the sex itself is what appeals to him and not - not them - because even weeks later, Nate can’t bring himself to so much as think either of their names. Like maybe if he avoids it long enough, it will all just be a bad dream and he can forget.

Except, unless he’s got a dream within a dream situation, he isn’t going to just forget. He can ignore certain details, yes, but there is a part of him that seems pretty hung up on being held down and fucked until he’s hoarse from it. Because as much as Nate tries to convince himself he doesn’t want to be fucked so hard he can’t move for weeks, he can’t seem to move past the thought.

This is a problem that should have an easy enough solution though, Nate thinks idly. He just needs to get laid, remind his body what it likes - what it’s always liked - and this desire will go away. His bruises are fading and they’ll be gone soon enough, the need to press his nails into them just to get off will go away with them, Nate is sure.

Nate doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he’s flicking a thumb over his nipple and letting out a heavy sigh. He’s still hard from dreaming, though not as much as he was, and Nate thinks he should be grateful he’s not coming all over himself while he sleeps like he’s twelve. Still, it doesn’t take much to get his nipple to bead up under the light scrape of his nail and Nate thinks he’s fucked up for doing this, riding off that high and trying to convince his body he knows better than it, but then he’s dragging the heel of his hand across the fly of his jeans and it feels too good against his cock for him to actually care about the reasoning.

He doesn’t usually take the time to do this, to turn himself on, not when Walt’s home anyways. But, as Nate sucks on a finger before teasing it around his nipple, trying to think of a hot mouth getting it slick instead, Nate thinks if Walt stumbles upon this than it’s Walt’s fault for not knocking. Nate’s enjoying the thought of teeth scraping lightly against his nipple while he flicks it with his nail too much to care about Walt right now. Walt is a decidedly unsexy thought and needs to be banished now.

It’s not hard to do when Nate’s been with enough people, has a good enough imagination to think about who and what he wants more. Like Gabe, with his pretty eyes and the smug little smile he gets when he kisses his way down Nate’s stomach, taking his time because he knows it’s the easiest way to set Nate on edge.

Nate thinks about soft kisses to his stomach, dropping his hand from his chest to struggle with the belt on his jeans, the button and the zipper, until he can lift his ass up and shove them down his thighs along with his shorts. He licks a broad stripe across his palm, slicking it up with spit before he curls his fingers around his cock and starts to jack it off slowly.

There is no endpoint in mind, Nate tries to tell himself. It’s hard to keep his mind blank, to just focus on the low burn of friction as he strokes himself and the way his toes curl when he rubs his palm over the head, smearing precome to ease the movements of his hand. It’s just this, nothing more, no bruises to be pressed or rough desires to be entertained.

Just the thought of Gabe’s hot mouth pressing kisses along the underside of his cock, sucking a kiss just under the head before laving his tongue along the slit. Nate rubs his thumb over the head and drags back his foreskin. He tries to remember what it feels like to have Gabe sucking on it, his tongue wet and gliding in a too light touch. He thinks about Gabe swallowing more of him down, never near enough to be deep throating him, but enough for Nate to groan and want more.

Nate starts to jack himself off again in earnest, his fist tight and twisting on the upstroke. He drops his other hand down to fondle his balls, spreading his thighs as wide as he can with his jeans still trapping him, rolling them gently between his fingers before squeezing lightly.

It should be working. He should be coming all over his fist with a strangled groan but for whatever reason Nate’s not coming anywhere close to getting off. He’s reached the point where he’s just hard enough that if he stops he’ll be blue balled but thinking about Gabe’s mouth isn’t going to cut it.

He tries to think about Gabe, just Gabe, naked and riding him, balancing himself on Nate’s chest with one palm while he jerks himself off with the other. He moans so wonderfully, head tipped back, his eyes closed and lips parted. Nate thinks about the way he slides so deep into Gabe, slow and easy, and the way Gabe clenches around him, so hot and slick and perfect.

When that doesn’t work, Nate tries to think of something else, anyone else. The blond from his Econ class, spread out beneath Nate, clinging to his shoulders and moaning while Nate fucks him slowly. The German exchange student against the counter, speaking a language Nate didn’t understand but urging him on with his fingers and lips.

Nate digs his nails into his thighs in frustration, letting his head thump back against his pillow. He makes an angry sound, because he needs this, he needs to get off now, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious he can’t. He can’t do this forever though, not without hurting himself and getting friction burn or worse.

It’s not on purpose Nate presses his fingers into one of the yellow bruises on his hip and he doesn’t even realize he’s done it until he’s digging his nails in and that’s a low stab of pain. He gasps, arching his hip up to feel more, and it goes straight to his cock. No, Nate thinks frantically, no no no no no, but the damage is already done.

Biting his lip, Nate gives in. He thinks about the bruises on his hip, the way they ache so good when he wakes up first thing in the morning and he’s hard in his shorts. He thinks about sharp little nails pressing into his skin, pushing him down and holding his hips in place as he gets fucked open, long hard thrusts that have him scrambling to find something to hold onto, to push back for more.

Nate brings his hand up long enough to lick it again, ignoring the bitter taste of precome before he starts to jerk himself off with quicker, rougher strokes. It’s easier, better, and Nate loses himself to the thought of having a cock in his ass, forcing it’s way deeper with every thrust until Nate’s sure he’s going to shatter apart into a million little pieces at the next slam of hips.

He touches his fingers to his jaw, his lips, thinking about what it would feel like to have another cock rubbing against him here, pushing inside and sliding slick against his tongue before nudging its way to the back of his throat. He imagines choking on it as it fucks in deep, fists tangled in his hair to keep him from pulling away, but Nate wouldn’t even if he could. He sucks on his fingers, desperate and sloppy, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

Before Nate even knows it’s happening, he’s rocking his hips up to meet his fist with a rough shove and coming with a bitten off cry. He can feel his body go taut as his cock pulses, reveling in the thought of being held in place between two strong bodies and cocks, used and filled. He’s covered in his own come, whining softly around the fingers in his mouth as he tries to catch his breath.

The only cognitive thought that Nate can form in his head as he crashes down from his post-orgasmic high is that he is completely and utterly screwed.

- - -

Walt doesn’t knock when he opens Nate’s door, poking his head in to make sure Nate’s still alive. And Nate is. He’s buried under pillows and blankets and wondering if he can smother the shame out of himself, but he’s definitely still alive. Nate’s starting to get the feeling nothing is going to get rid of these thoughts and feelings inside of him.

Apparantly Walt can’t see the war that’s waging inside of Nate or the black pit of self-deprecation, because as soon as he realizes Nate is decent enough, he’s pushing the door open wide enough to lean his hip against the jamb. “I’m about to head out with Maria.”

Nate tips his head to the side enough to look at Walt blearily. He means to say have fun, but somehow the moment he opens his mouth, the words “I think I’m broken” spill out instead.

Walt hesitates, frowning. He looks at Nate with big blue eyes, the worry obvious, and he runs his hand slowly through his hair. “Do you want to talk about this, then?” He asks, moving closer into the room to sit on the edge of Nate’s bed. “I can rain check with Maria.”

”No,” Nate says, shaking his head. He rolls onto his back to stare forlornly up at the ceiling. “You need to go out with Maria. I’m just. God, I’m an idiot. And a mess. I don’t know why you put up with me, Walt. I don’t deserve you.”

”I will agree that you’re an idiot,” Walt says. He reaches for Nate, poking his cheek lightly. “Hey,” he says, softer. “Nate. You’ve been putting up with my shit for years. Don’t you ever think you don’t deserve me. You’re my best friend. My brother. I’m always going to be here for you.”

Nate bats Walt’s hand away tiredly, and sighs, closing his eyes. “I’m tired of being broken, Walt.”

”We’ll work on it,” Walt says. He looks like he wants to touch Nate again, but doesn’t, and he settles for toying with the hem of a plaid shirt Nate thinks might actually belong to him. “You’re going to get past this. You’re strong, Nate.”

”And now we start with the clichés,” Nate mutters. He silences Walt with a look when he starts to object. He tries to smile weakly. “Don’t worry about it,” Nate says, eventually. “You’ve got a date. I can survive spending one night on my own.”

”Sometimes I’m not too sure about that,” Walt says, but he’s pushing off Nate’s bed all the same. “I’ll pick up some Jack or something on the way home. If you still feel like shit, we can get drunk and play Mario Kart pantsless or something.”

”It’s a date, then,” Nate says wryly, and he smiles when Walt lets out a laugh. “Go, have fun with your lady friend,” Nate says, reaching out with his foot to nudge Walt’s thigh. “Leave me alone to have a relationship with my bed.”

”I think your bed would prefer a threesome,” Walt says, but he stumbles away when Nate shoves at him again. “Stay out of trouble when I’m gone,” he adds seriously, but there’s a smile on his face.

Then Walt is gone and Nate is alone and somehow, Nate doesn’t mind as much as he thought he would or thinks he should. It’s just a few hours, he tells himself. He can keep himself entertained until then.

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