Lessons Learned

It's pathetic what he's done to me. The way just the thought of him causes the butterflies in my stomach to stir. The fact that just hearing his voice makes me smile. The unexplainable reason why his touch alone is enough to make me want to stay…

As I stand outside his house, hands stuffed in my jacket's pockets, back hunched against the soft drizzle that's started to fall, I try to find the best way to apologize to him. But everything that comes to mind sounds either too sappy or too cold. Pursing my lips as a car goes past, splashing me in the process, I decide that whatever comes to mind in the heat of the moment will have to do.

"I'll catch a cold if I stay out here."

Straightening, eyes dead set on the front door, I force myself to cross the street and walk up the drive. The soft glow of the house's lights help give the atmosphere a more positive hue. But as I climb the steps I can't help but feel an uneasy premonition come over me. Pausing, hand on the handle, I brush it off as nerves.

Taking a deep breath I slowly count to ten. Rubbing my hands on my jeans, trying to get rid of the clamminess, I swear the adrenaline jumped beating of my heart is going to beat right out of my chest. Opening the door I peek around and call out, "Vias I'm home!"

Not getting a reply I shut the door behind me and try again. Same response.

Going straight to the kitchen, figuring it's the most likely place he'll be, I find the remnants of alfredo sauce, grilled chicken and pasta in the cooking pots he'd left out. Confused at the fact that he'd left the dishes out, normally he's such a kitchen Nazi, I quickly put them in the sink and run some water over them.

Maybe he got tired and went to bed. Or ran out to get something? Or-

"So you're the infamous Parker Seitzer that we've heard so much about."

Starting at the voice speaking from my right I pivot around with the knife I'd been cleaning. Holding it up I'm torn between asking him who he is, what he's doing here, and where's Vias. The man is fair looking, more of an eye candy than a eye sore. His arms are folded as he leans against the doorframe and gazes back at me with amusement reflecting in his eyes. Had we met at a different time- when my mind wasn't in a frenzie about my relationship with Vias for instance- I may have liked him instantly. As it is, my tone comes out sharp and edged with a warning.

"Who're you?"

The man cocks his head, his smile faltering slightly. When he speaks his voice has lost some of its confidence.

"Vias didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

He breaths out of his nose before shrugging and beaconing to me.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

Uncertain if I should trust him, from the short time we'd met my impression of him being sketchy at best, I'm hesitant to follow him. But then I hear two muffled voices coming from the living room. Creeping closer listen in and manage to distinguish one as unfamiliar.

"Vias, you're little boy toy has come home."

"Hrgh."

"Ah leave him be Dally. I think he's feeling the wine he'd drunk earlier."

"Poor dear. We'll make you feel real good soon. Sven-"

"What?"

"I'd like you to meet Parker."

Grabbing my arm like a snake he drags me into the darkened room. The two I realize, after my eyes have adjusted to the light change, are identical brothers. It's hard to tell the difference between them but instantly I know that I like Sven better, as his whole demeanor is kinder than his twin's. But my liking of him is nipped in the bud when the whole scene unfolds before me.

Vias is on the couch with his hair tousled, faintly toned torso exposed from the lack of a shirt, jeans opened and pulled down partially to his knees. My breath catches in my throat and I don't know how Dallan expects me to act because I want to do the exact opposite. Before I comprehend what I'm saying I hiss, "What the Hell Vias?"

Vias's looks over at me but I can tell he doesn't really see me. Or he doesn't believe that it's me. He buries his head in Sven's neck and I hear him murmur softly, "Why do I try so hard for him? He obviously doesn't love me…"

Dallan flops down next to Vias and says sickeningly sweet, "There, there. No need to worry, Sven and I will take better care of you than he ever could. After all, we know practically everything about you."

Vias says something I don't catch, but whatever it is causes Sven to start playing with Vias's hair. Stunned, too angered to move, too afraid to speak, I just stand there. Sven won't meet my eyes, but Dallan can't seem to look at anything but me. His eyes appear black and they glitter as his lips press against Vias's neck and Vias moans a little.

Eyes raking along the coffee table I see three opened wine bottles, as well as two unopened ones, scattered on it. Balling my fists I turn to leave. But before I'm able to, Dallan says loud enough so it's obvious that he meant for me to hear, "At least we took the time to know you. I bet Parker doesn't know that you have a mother and father who live three hours away from here. Or that you graduated top of your class? Does he even know what foods you like and don't? When you're birthday is?"

I'm surprised and glad when I hear Vias say sharply, "He knows a lot of things. He's high honors and been through more shit than he should-"

Dallan sighs and cuts him off with, "Yes dear, but what does he know about you? From what you've told us about him it's obvious you adore him. Surely if the feelings were mutual surely he'd want to know just as much about you."

Holding my breath I wait for Vias's retort but when I hear none the urge to punch something is stronger than ever.

Just because I don't know a lot about Vias doesn't mean I don't love care for him!

Unable to stop myself I whip around and stalk back into the room. Going right up to Dallan I tell him so.

"Getting to know someone takes time. So of course I don't know a lot about Vias! But it doesn't mean I don't care! You've had years with him! I-"

"And that's precisely why I- we can understand him better than you. You're planning to leave at the end of the school year anyway right? Boys like you are always eager for a fresh start. So ready to leave everything behind. So why not just give Vias to us and go on your merry freaking way? And besides-"

He rests his head on Vias's shoulder and lays an arm across his chest. He stares directly at me, never once looking away.

"-it's first come, first serve honey."

As if moving on it's own my hand snatches one of the win bottles from the table and hurl it at the wall. Surprisingly enough the crash of it shattering and the pieces hitting the floor seems to snap Vias out of his drunken stupor. Rising, a little unsteady he asks, "P-parker you're home? I- uh-"

Looking down at himself, then at the wine and finally the twins he trails off with, "It's really not what it looks like. I-"

The words come without me having to think of them. The words I'd been looking for have come at the heat of the moment.

Too bad they're not what I'd intended to say.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't even talk to me. Now or tomorrow. Not Ever."

Turning I bolt from the room and out the door. Behind me I can hear Vias's calling after me, begging me to come back. To listen to him. I can hear the sneer in Dallan's voice as he says, "Let him go. You two were no good for each other anyway."

The last thing I hear before the door divides us is, "Parker don't go!"

My body moves on it's own, taking me down alleyways and pass streets that are as familiar to me as my favorite stuffed panda from when I was little. Clutching the stitch in my side I keep going until I can't run anymore. And then I stumble on. I don't know where I'm heading.

But I can't bring myself to care.

Not now anyway.

From out of no where a big, pick up trunk pulls up beside me. Warily looking at it I keep moving. Only to stop when a voice I'd hoped to never hear again speaks.

"Well lookie here boys. It's the bitch's son I told you about. Think we should have some fun with him? Do some physiological damage to the whore by playing with her boy?"

Blinded by Vias's betrayal, numbed by Dallan's words, I stupidly scoff. Spitting at him that she won't care. That it should be pretty obvious when she lets her lay of the night beat her own kid senseless. But it doesn't seem to matter to him.

Two men jump out from the back, both of which I vaguely remember as men my mom had brought around before once, and grab me. Unable to summon the strength to fight back I let them toss me in the back. As they tie my wrists and ankles, my only thought is, God please let them kill me.