Possessive (Completed)

Want a Drink?

Asher left Garrett's house with a queasy feeling in his stomach. Shea and him were sworn enemies, infinitely against each other until the end of time. Needless to say the thought of apologizing to the other boy made Asher absolutely sick.

Still, the therapist had said it would bring him closure, and Lord knew he'd done enough to apologize to Shea for. Shea made Asher sick in ways he'd never felt for another person. He knew Shea was probably better for Simon then he ever could be, but he couldn't bring himself to like Shea.

It was true that the new kid at school usually had things rough, and Asher certainly hadn't made that any easier by taking his only friend, but Shea had proven himself to be volatile.

The drive to Shea's house was grueling. Asher's car crawled as he willed it to stop or get into an accident; at least then he could just go home. Garrett had left, and his bed was free and calling out to him, but he was on a mission.

Shea's house came into view on the left side of the street. It was a small one story brick home with a black roof, and some shrubbery. The Massachusetts summer air wafted through Asher's open windows, and carried with it the faint scent of lavender.

"Here we go." Asher grumbled to himself but made no move to get out of the car. "I'm going." He repeated, but still his legs wouldn't budge. He felt pathetic. He was pathetic. I've just got to get this over with and then I can move on. He thought to himself.

     It wasn't like apologizing to Shea was ridiculous; he had got the other boy kicked off the football team and expelled from the school for God's sake, but it the necessity of the matter didn't make it easier. At least with Simon and Garrett he's had the hope of continuing a better relationship to motivate him, but Asher was pretty sure that wouldn't be the case. In fact Asher was pretty sure the whole world might explode if they were in the same room for two long: a toxic chemical reaction.

      Time to go. Asher prodded, and finally worked up the nerve to get out of the car.

      The front door had a spring wreath and a letter tucked beneath the footer. He didn't see any doorbell, so Asher elected to knock instead, not that it mattered.... The few moments following his knock were filled with a deafening obnoxious silence that penetrated his defenses. The longer he stood out there, the weaker he became.

      "Hell- Asher?" The door popped open just as Asher was about to dive into the bushes and pretend it was a game of ding dong ditch. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

       "I... shit... well, what I came here to say was-"

      "Save it," Shea interrupted, glaring daggers at Asher. Two tall football jocks staring each other down in the Boston suburbs must have been quite the sight. "I think I've heard enough out of you for a lifetime. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of." Asher flinched at the boy's words. It was as if they'd switched positions. As if Asher had become the nervous new kid pandering for the approval of the strong football captain.

      "Look..." Asher pushed his blonde hair from his eyes. "I didn't come here to fight. Shit... I came out here because..."

     "Because?"

     "Because I wanted to apologize!"

     "Really?" Shea's eyes narrowed. "You? The great Asher Ericsson? You got Simon in the end didn't you? What do you need with me?"

      "Simon?" Asher's brow furrowed. "We've barely spoken since- well I won't.... I don't wanna... fuck. I haven't got Simon at all. Neither of us got Simon at the end of this whole thing. Listen, I'm going to therapy, and a whole bunch of crap, and I want to move on. I think that would do you some good too."

     "Doesn't that make you feel like it was all a waste?"

     "What?"

     "The whole rivalry we had and everything. Nobody won. It was just a mess. I mean when we look back at high school.... what a colossal waste of fucking time." Shea ran his hand down his neck.

      "I don't-" Asher began, but stopped himself. He didn't agree. If he had never met Simon he'd have messed thing up for somebody else, and who knows where he would have ended up. Maybe still being feared, maybe still beaten, but certainly worse than a cushy foster care home. "I'm sorry, man."

      "I guess..." Shea mumbled. "In a round-a-bout way I'm sorta sorry too."

    "Thank you," Asher smiled slightly. "That means a lot to me."

      "It doesn't mean I like you," Shea shrugged. "I'm just glad to see that Simon dumped you like he dumped me."

     "I guess so." Asher chuckled. Both boys had deserved it equally, in Asher's mind, but it was clear he still thought he'd gotten the short end of the stick.

       "I don't really know what comes next." Shea smirked. "Usually I don't forgive people when they do stuff as bad as you."

     "I'm sorry."

     "Usually they don't apologize either, though."

      "I guess I should be-" Asher began.

      "Hey, maybe I'm not thinking straight," Shea sighed. "-or maybe I've just lost it altogether, but would you maybe like to come in? Have a drink?"

     "I..." Asher turned to look at his car. He had a few hours to kill, and Shea's offer seemed better than being alone. "I'd like that."

....

      Simon sat on the floor of his room. His dirty blonde hair was sticking up in multiple directions, and his shorts were wrinkled under his legs. He was cradling his phone in his lap as if it was a newborn baby, stalling over a rewritten text message.

      Simon wasn't sure if he wanted to see Shea again — it certainly didn't seem like the healthy thing to do — but maybe checking up on the other boy couldn't hurt. Shea had been through a lot that summer, and the last thing he deserved was to lose his best friend.

    Kissing had never been something Simon took lightly, so he at least ought to talk to Shea about it, right? The last time they kissed Shea assumed it meant they were together, so ghosting him would be something akin to dumping him, which Simon didn't want to do.

      Still, he couldn't get Liam's strange behavior out of his mind. It wasn't like Liam to change his mind like that, or at all for that matter. Out of the blue, too. There was no way. Something had to have happened, Simon thought. Someone, something must have gotten to him. Liam's blessing was important, but the whole thing reeked of interference. Simon trusted Liam with all his heart, but something was wrong with him, something he could tell Simon.

     Simon smoothed his blue T-shirt.

     I won't text Shea. Simon resolved. No good would come of that, I'm sure of it.

      So Simon did not text Shea. Instead, he texted Liam.

Simon: tell me what happened