nate | he/him | 23 | mdni

After a restless night, Dennis was standing in the bathroom of his brand new apartment that felt far too cold and empty to be there all alone. Red, tearful, tired eyes stared through the reflection of a dirty mirror. Eyes that didn't look like his own.

Skin that didn't feel right.

A bitter taste still stuck in the back of his throat.

Fear and guilt and shame twisting and turning his gut in a way that would surely make him puke again if he had anything left in his stomach.

And the worst part of it all was that Dennis was dreading Robby's call. The one person in his life who didn't make him feel gross or weird or wrong. The one person who felt safe. Now he was just another voice Dennis didn't want to hear.

He pushed his fingers into his mouth until he gagged and expelled as much of the feeling as he could in the form of stomach acid into the sink.

Back in bed, dressed in the baggiest sweats he could find and hidden under the suffocating warmth of the quilt his mom made for him, he stared at his Instagram account, feeling worse with each suggestive picture and lude caption he scrolled past, unable to banish the image his mind conjured of his professor, a supposed man of God, pleasing himself to it all.

His finger hovered over the Delete Account button, but he didn't seem to have any control over the finger that pressed it.

As the blanket made his lungs feel heavier and heavier, it seemed all too easy to stop breathing all together.

Then his phone rang.

He almost let it go to voicemail, but he sat up, pulled the blanket off his head, and took a deep breath of fresh air before answering and pressing the phone to his ear.

"Hi, Robby."

"Hey, Angel. Did I wake you up, sweetheart?"

"No," he answered, rubbing at his aching eyes, now painfully dry from crying too much. "Sorry for making you wait... I– I, uh... It was kind of a rough night."

"It's okay, baby," Robby replied, his soft smile evident in the way he spoke. "You didn't sleep well?"

Dennis sniffled and shuffled his feet under the covers. He thought about admitting what happened. But what would he even say? That he sucked some guy's dick and now he wanted to die? It suddenly felt a bit melodramatic. Especially since Robby was still under the impression that Dennis —or rather, Angel— was some kind of insatiable cock slut. If he revealed what the reverend did and how it made him never want to even look at a naked man again, Robby would know that he had been lying all this time. And that might be the end for them.

So he kept it to himself.

"I, um... I'm sick. I've been throwing up a lot," Dennis said. He left out the part about how most of it was self-inflicted.

"Oh, you poor thing," Robby cooed. "Did you eat something bad last night?"

Dennis scoffed resentfully. "Yeah... I guess so."

If only you knew.

"Make sure you're staying hydrated, baby," Robby said. "And if you need more rest, just say the word, I'll leave you alone."

Tears welled up in Dennis' eyes again, his guilt doubling and worsening his already unbearable nausea. "I'm sorry..." he whispered. A sob threatened to choke its way out of his tightened throat. "I–I'm sorry. I'm ruining your birthday. I'm ruining everything."

"What?" Robby asked, concern laced in his voice. "Because you got sick? Sweetheart, what are you talking about? You're not ruining anything."

Dennis was trying his best to stay calm. He had no tears left to cry, and he was already in a world of pain that would only get worse if he kept getting so worked up. "But I promised–"

"It's okay," Robby interrupted him.

Dennis tried again. "But–"

And he was interrupted again. "Shh, baby," Robby said soothingly. "Shh, it's okay. It's alright. You don't need to be so upset. I'm not mad at you, Angel. Take a deep breath and calm down for me, okay?"

His lips quivered and his lungs ached as he obeyed the instruction, taking a shuttering breath in and sighing quietly out. Then again, and again, until he felt steadier and his head was clearer.

"There you go, baby. That's better, isn't it?" Robby said softly.

Dennis nodded, clenching his eyes shut. When he remembered this was only an audio call, he croaked out, "Yeah."

"Good," Robby said. He took a deep breath of his own before continuing. "Now talk to me, honey. I get the feeling being sick isn't all that's bothering you. Or... Is it something serious? Is that why you're so upset?"

The concern in his voice had shifted to a deeper anxiety, and Dennis remembered the first time they actually spoke to each other. When Robby lost his friend to Covid and they spent the whole night on the phone. It was only a few months ago but it felt like forever.

"No, I'm sorry. It's fine. I'm fine," Dennis insisted, sniffling and rubbing at his runny nose. "Really, it's just the... the food poisoning. I promise, baby, I'm gonna be okay. You won't lose me."

"Okay... Good. That's good," Robby said with a sigh of relief. "But you are sad about something else, aren't you?"

"How do you already know me so well?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Angel."

Dennis laughed pitifully. The irony of being so fundamentally understood while still lying about who he really was. He was starting to hope that would come around to bite him in the ass someday. He felt he deserved some retribution sooner or later. More than what he already got from the reverend.

"I deleted my Instagram."

"You did?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Dennis started to anxiously chew at the skin around his thumb nail. "I dunno," he lied. "I just couldn't– I didn't wanna do it anymore. It was too much. The things people were saying to me, the threats... I don't wanna keep dealing with that shit. I'm over it. I don't wanna do it anymore."

"Did something happen?"

Dennis sighed and turned over onto his side, trying to think up a good excuse. But he took too long.

"I've read the comments on your pictures before. Some of it was pretty violent stuff," Robby said gently. "I get why you wouldn't want to keep reading that filth. It's good that you're putting an end to it if it's been bothering you. Your safety and wellbeing is important. So if you need a break from it all, you can tell me. I'll give you some space. As much as you need, for as long as you need."

"Please don't," Dennis begged, letting it slip out before he had time to dial back the desperation. Then he figured, fuck it. Already started, might as well finish. "I don't want you to go, Robby. You're, like, all I have right now. I don't have any friends and my family doesn't know I'm gay and I have no passions or prospects in my life... I'm totally fucking lost and you're all I have. I need you."

Oof.

That was a lot.

Like, a lot.

Probably way too much.

And Robby wasn't responding.

Son of a bitch.

𓆩♡𓆪

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part 30 >