In the Closet (boy x boy)

3. Tavish McCloud Apparently Gets Laid in Said Closet

Saturday, March 4th

Cedric, brooding near a corner of the room, slips his stinky shirt back on. I sit on Tavish's bed, head down like a scolded child. Tavish paces in front of me, still delightfully shirtless, in deep reflection it seems. Why do I feel like I'm witnessing my parents divorcing?

"You said you were just... watching kiwi birds...?" Cedric breaks the silence.

"Yeah," I say quietly.

"In my closet?" Tavish adds, barely concealing agression.

"It was quiet," I dare a small shrug. "I like quiet."

"You don't come to a fucking party for quiet!" His accent is as thick as his anger. How am I possibly getting out of this unharmed?

"Tav, play nice. I don't think he genuinely meant any wrong. We did barge in." Cedric gives me a lenient smile that I greatly appreciate.

"Yeah, in my own fucking room. Did you not see the red tape or did that only convince you to trepass further?"

"I did see it. But... I assumed that would just assure I'd be left alone."

Tavish halts in front of me, way, way too close. His nice hands are clenched into fists and veins pulse. I shiver. As nice as his hands are, I'd rather he didn't ram them across my face. I look away, gaze at some packed bags slotted in the corner of the room.

"Wow, I assumed the same!" I flinch, hard.

"Tav-" Cedric steps forward.

"Shut up! This means nothing for you, everybody already knows you're fucking gay," he seethes and if he were a rattlesnake, his tail would have clattered. I frown up at him, finally getting a good look at his face.

It's all distorted by fury, brows furrowed, jaw clenched tight, mouth hard, eyes narrowed. I don't like it. Cedric doesn't say anything but his eyes speak loud.

I decided to voice it out for him. "Why are you saying that like it's an insult?"

"Definitely isn't a compliment," he retorts and he's wrong. I wish he was aware of that.

"Oh, fuck off," Cedric delivers with a striking calm and walks out. I liked him, I wish he stayed. I sigh.

"Oh, you don't get to sigh, you gay perv."

That's it. I have had my share of bowing down to this asshole and his filthy tongue. I hoist myself to my feet.

"Gay perv?" I cringe at the odd insult. It feels like a deformed baby on my tongue and that doesn't taste good.

"I bet you would have liked watching two boys fuck."

"No, I know for a fact I wouldn't." He scrunches his face at me and give me a nasty glare. I ignore him. "This is an accidental, inconvenient situation and I'd enjoy if we could just both walk away."

We stand facing each other, him looking down, me looking up. He flicks off my cap and digs his index into my chest.

"No way in hell," he argues, uncomprehendingly stubborn.

Annoyed, I sit on the bed and cross a leg over the other. "See, I don't get why you're so riled up about this."

He roughly grabs my collar. "I'd savor this delightful conversation more if you didn't stretch my shirt, merci beaucoup," I mutter and he reluctantly lets go, even angrier.

"You snuck into my room uninvited and-"

I squint at him knowingly. He's so readable. "But that's not your issue, is it?" I cut him off.