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  Ajay punches Marcus lightly on the arm as they head across campus towards the field. “I mean it,” he insists. “I know you’ve got your own stuff going on, too, but I don’t want to see you get caught up in it. Whatever shit went down in Boston, it’s in the past. Don’t let it keep you on the bench for the rest of the game, you feel me?”

  Marcus can sense Ajay staring at him intently, but he keeps his gaze focused forward as they reach the field. A few of the players wave hello, and Sebastian saunters over with a wide grin as he drapes his arm over Marcus’ shoulders as per usual. “Nice of you to swing by, but next time you can leave Kumar in the library. No one would miss him.”

  “Fuck off,” Ajay says cheerfully as he drops his backpack by the bench. “I am an essential member of the team. I’m the only one who is physically capable of putting up with your shit.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Sebastian says. “I’m an absolute delight at all times.”

  His arm squeezes around Marcus’ shoulders lightly. “You can stick around, if you want,” he suggests. “While we practice. We’ll grab something to eat after. We haven’t had Thai in forever.”

  Marcus hates how much he wants to say yes to watching Sebastian run around the field shirtless and then share some pad see ew in a cozy corner booth. “Um, I don’t know. I’ve got stuff to do…”

  “You gonna go see Martinez again?” A voice pipes up from behind them.

  Marcus looks up in confusion. One of the tight ends, some white guy with a crew cut whom Marcus doesn’t know, is leering at him. “Sorry, who’s that?”

  “Dang, you must get around if you can’t even keep their names straight,” the tight end says with a snicker.

  Sebastian scowls. “The fuck are you talking about, Campbell?”

  “Hey, simmer down.” Campbell raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I ain’t judging. It’s iconic, to be macking like that. I’m serious.”

  Marcus smiles weakly. “Thanks, but I still don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Campbell smirks. “Martinez told me you two hooked up on Tuesday. Nice going. I heard good things, my man. Gotta love a giver.”

  Before Marcus can protest, Sebastian drags him away from the group. His eyebrows are knit together tightly and his eyes are flashing with anger. “The fuck is he talking about? You’re—are you fucking other people?”

  “No. Maybe. It’s not really your business.” For the first time, Marcus is grateful for the numbing blankness of his meds as he focuses on channeling that feeling rather than breaking down on the fifty yard line.

  “How is it not my business?” Sebastian snaps. “You said you needed time! You said you’d think about it!”

  “And you said you wouldn’t push,” Marcus says. He’s surprised by how calm his voice sounds. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not in a relationship. I don’t owe you anything.”

  “We might as well be in one,” Sebastian snarls. “Shit, we would be in one, except you’re a fucking coward who’s afraid to be happy.”

  “Wow, I wonder why,” Marcus says, his voice laced thick with sarcasm. “Maybe because the last time I put myself out there, my whole life fucking ended.”

  Sebastian rolls his eyes. “Oh no, you had a bad break up? What an interesting and unique story. That’s never happened to anyone. I can see why you’d be scarred for life. It’s a perfectly acceptable reason to commit to the forever alone vibe.”

  Marcus flushes as a dull anger courses through his veins. “Don’t act like you know me. You don’t know shit about my past. And you have no fucking concept of what it’s like to lose something! Every time bad shit happens to you, you always land on your feet. You’ve never had to deal with any sort of fallout.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Sebastian hisses. “Just because I don’t roll over and wallow in my own bullshit doesn’t mean I don’t know what it’s like when things get rough. I just deal with it instead of ignoring it like a fucking wuss.”

  “Yeah, you’re the epitome of healthy coping mechanisms,” Marcus says coldly. “Every therapist recommends a copy of How to be Overbearing and Needlessly Abrasive to their patients.”

  “Fuck you,” Sebastian spits out.

  “Not likely,” Marcus retorts. He turns sharply on his heel and stalks off the field. He can hear Campbell’s voice echoing behind him.

  “Yeah, that’s it Williams! Don’t let Lockwood drag you down, go get that upgrade! Oh come on, Lockwood, I’m kidding! I’m kidding! Lighten up, you don’t have to—ow, what the fuck? OW!”

  Marcus glances back quickly to see Sebastian’s fist make contact with Campbell’s nose. There’s a sickening crack as Campbell stumbles backwards before catching his balance. He moves to return the favor, but Sebastian is already throwing punch after punch as the two players fall to the ground in a mess of fists and swearing.

  Marcus looks away and continues his retreat. He can hear Ajay shouting, but he doesn’t turn back to see what’s happening. He pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket and turns it off before shoving it into his backpack. He’ll go back to the apartment, he decides, where he’ll drop off his shit, get changed, and get the hell out before Jackson comes home and starts lecturing him.

  He’s tired of it. All of it. He’s tired of thinking about Boston, and him, and Sebastian. He’s tired of people fussing over him. He’s tired of trying so fucking hard to act like everything’s fine and then have people see through the facade anyway.

  He’s tired of giving a shit.

  So for the foreseeable future, he won’t.

  Chapter 9

  When Marcus drifts back into consciousness, he’s mildly alarmed by the fact that it’s raining in his bedroom. He blinks a few times, willing himself not to throw up as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. Jackson stands over him with a steely glower and a spray bottle full of what Marcus hopes is water.

  Marcus quickly drops back down to rest his face against the cool hardwood of his bedroom floor, squeezing his eyes shut tightly to stop his brain from spinning. “Why the fuck am I on the floor?”

  “Because you’re a dumbass.” Jackson’s reply is cool and clipped. “I’m surprised you made it home at all. Haven’t seen you much this past week. I’d have been worried but the vomit streaks you’ve been leaving regularly in the bathroom let me know you were alive, at the very least.”

  “Sorry,” Marcus mutters into the hardwood. “I…Sorry.”

  Don’t be sorry, Marcus. I’m certainly not. This isn’t something to be sorry for. This is something good. Something special.

  “You’re certainly looking pretty sorry right now,” Jackson says dryly. He sniffs the air exaggeratedly and coughs loudly. “Have you spent the last week in a dumpster? You smell disgusting.”

  Marcus groans as he peers up at Jackson. “I did puke behind the Denny’s last night. I think.”

  “Eugh! Denny’s is worse than a dumpster. No wonder you reek.” Jackson nudges Marcus’ ribs gently with his toe. “Go take a shower. We need to talk. I’m tired of your personal drama interfering with my life.”

  Marcus forces himself to sit up, wincing as a thousand needles stab behind his eyeballs. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. Shit.” He blinks blearily as he looks around the room and pats his pockets.

  “If you’re looking for your phone, don’t bother,” Jackson says with a sigh. “It’s not here.”

  Marcus raises one eyebrow painfully. “Um…okay, where is it?”

  “I threw it off the balcony this morning,” Jackson says blithely.

  It takes all of Marcus’ energy not to flop back down onto the floor.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” Jackson crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “It was pinging nonstop all morning. Took me an hour to track it down. It was in the Cheerios box, by the way. I threw those out, too.”

  “Sorry,” Marcus mutters. He’s lost count of how many times he’s said sorry in the past five minutes, but he’s also pretty sure that he hasn
’t said it nearly enough.

  Jackson doesn’t say anything as he reaches a hand out to help Marcus up before stalking out of the room. Marcus makes his way to the bathroom on shaking legs. Once he’s under the warm spray of the shower, he leans his forehead against the tile and takes a few deep breaths.

  He’s got to get his shit together.

  The past week is a sickening blur of vodka and brooding. He hasn’t been to class, hasn’t even set foot on campus. Hasn’t taken his meds. Hasn’t replied to any texts or calls.

  He’d been so worried about letting himself be vulnerable with Sebastian, convinced that it would end up fucking over his fresh start. He should have known that he’d manage to fuck it up all on his own anyway.

  He washes up as best as he can, throws up quickly in the toilet, brushes his teeth, pulls on some sweatpants, and makes his way morosely to the living room. Jackson is waiting for him on the couch. He arches one eyebrow as Marcus sits down next to him, hunching his shoulders.

  After a few silent minutes, Jackson clears his throat. “Look,” he says, “if you want to throw yourself into a self-loathing spiral, that’s your choice. I won’t stop you. But it’s making my brother unbearable. And Ajay. Blair too, for that matter. All three of them are constantly coming over to check on you, and since you’re never here, I have to suffer through their freak-outs.”

  Marcus cringes as he draws his knees up under his chin. “I didn’t think…I don’t know why Sebastian should care.”

  “He cared enough to beat the shit out of that creepy teammate of his,” Jackson says. “Got benched for two games.”

  Marcus groans and drops his head to his knees. “Fuck. That’s my fault, I goaded him into—”

  “It’s not your fault,” Jackson interrupts. “It’s his own damn fault. He’s never been able to keep his temper in check when it comes to defending his pack.” He reaches out tentatively to poke Marcus in the leg. “Stop blaming yourself for other people’s shitty decisions. No one faults you for Sebastian’s bad choices. So just…just stop it.”

  Marcus eyes him warily. It’s kind of Jackson to say, he supposes, but he’s not sure how accurate it is. He knows damn well that it is his fault. He should never have let things go so far with Sebastian. He should never have hooked up with that random person. He should never have said such hurtful things to Sebastian when he knew that Sebastian was already pissed.

  Jackson sighs wearily. “Look, I’m not telling you what to do, but you’ve got to at least try to appease people to get them off your case and out of our apartment. Ajay had his mom send a doctor’s note to the school about you missing classes this week, but I assume eventually you’ll have to start showing up again. Honestly, Ajay and Blair are becoming permanent fixtures on this horrid couch and I don’t know how much more I can take.” He gestures to the orange plaid monstrosity that Ajay and Sebastian had moved into their apartment as an alleged housewarming gift.

  Marcus is distracted from his wallowing by the faint blush that’s appeared on Jackson’s cheeks. He can’t help but smirk as he asks, “Oh, really? They’ve been spending a lot of time here? On this couch, huh? Even though I’ve been out?”

  “Shut up,” Jackson mutters.

  Marcus’ grin widens as Jackson’s scowl deepens. “You’ve been comforting them, then? In their time of crisis?”

  “It’s not—ugh!” Jackson digs his heel into Marcus’ hip. “It’s not like that! I’m just being a good host!”

  “Right,” Marcus nods. “It’s only good manners to offer make out sessions to your guests.”

  “There have been no make out sessions!” Jackson snaps. Marcus gives him a deadpan stare.

  “Fine,” Jackson says crossly, “there may have been a few…kissing incidents, but I’m not…we aren’t…it’s not like that!” He leaps up from the couch and marches towards the front door.

  “Fuck you, Williams. I’m going to get your stupid phone. I was being kind and threw it into a bush, but I hope it broke anyway.”

  As the door slams behind him, Marcus smiles to himself. He’s considerably more cheerful. At least something good has come from all this. He frowns as he considers what the fuck he’s supposed to be doing now. He’s not sure he can face Blair and Ajay anytime soon, and as for Sebastian…

  Fuck.

  Why do they even care? Why won’t they just let him self-destruct? Why do they fool themselves into thinking he’s worth the effort?

  Marcus, you know your mother and I love you. Even if she’s not here anymore, she…I just don’t understand why you won’t let me help you. I know I’m no good at this, not like she was, but…I want to try. Please. You can tell me things, and I’ll try to understand. Please.

  Before Marcus can slide back into his brooding, Jackson enters the apartment and tosses Marcus’ phone onto the couch.

  “There. It’s working, unfortunately.” He hesitates for a moment. “Um…Ajay got your dad’s number. I don’t know how. I noticed a lot of missed calls from him and…I wasn’t snooping, I just…I called him. Let him know you were okay, and that you’d call him soon. So, you know…don’t make a liar out of me.”

  Jackson doesn’t look at Marcus as he heads back towards his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him. Shame washes over Marcus as his chest tightens painfully. He flips through his missed calls and texts, mostly from Ajay and Blair. His stomach drops as he notices a flurry of texts from Pete, sent this morning.

  Pete: hey, i’m gonna be in town today. if u want to meet.

  Pete: i get it if u don’t want that but

  Pete: i miss you. and i feel really bad about what happened. id like to apologize again in person. i know i dont deserve it

  Pete: but id appreciate it anyways.

  Pete: maybe we could have lunch? if ur free?

  Pete: please?

  Marcus does not want to see Pete. He and Pete had been roommates for two years, and they’d had a lot of good times, but now memories of Pete are inextricably tied up with memories of him, and Marcus is tired of thinking about him.

  Marcus, please talk to me! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know it would be like this! He’s the one who should be punished, not you! He’s the one who was wrong! Can’t you see that? Marcus, please, I was only trying to help!

  Nausea wracks through Marcus’ body as he closes his eyes. It’s not Pete’s fault. He knows this. Pete has always tried to be a good friend. It’s not his fault that things got so fucked up.

  He knows this, but it’s still…hard.

  Marcus takes a deep breath. He’s caused his friends enough pain. He can make this gesture, at least. He can try to fix this one thing.

  Marcus: sure. we can meet up.

  Marcus: u free at noon thirty? tony’s on 6th st makes a mean veggie sub.

  Marcus: it’ll be good to catch up. for real.

  * * * *

  “Mmmph,” Pete mumbles into his sub. “You were right. This bread is awesome.”

  Pete is grinning with his mouth full, and Marcus tries not to laugh, though his stomach sinks a bit. It’s nice to see Pete smiling again, especially since their last meeting went so wrong. It still hurts a little, though, to remember good things.

  “Bread’s the most important part,” Marcus agrees. His own sub is barely touched. Being sober for the first time in a week isn’t doing great things for his appetite, nor is the anxiety twisting up his insides. His meds hadn’t been working right, but they’d clearly been doing something. A week’s worth of missed doses has that uncomfortable numbness fading into the familiar shades of nausea and nerves.

  Pete chews thoughtfully as he gives Marcus a calculated gaze. “You, um…you look good,” he says with a grimace.

  Marcus rolls his eyes. “You always were a shitty liar.”

  Pete blushes. “Well…I’ve seen you look worse, anyway,” he snickers. “Remember Halloween our freshman year?”

  “No,” Marcus laughs, “you know I don’t remember shit from that night.”

&n
bsp; “Neither do I,” Pete says gravely. “What happened in that graveyard, stays in that graveyard.”

  Marcus shakes his head. “I wish that were true,” he says ruefully, “but that girl you brought home didn’t leave our dorm for three days.”

  Pete drops his head to his hands with a groan, but he’s smiling. “Shit, man, don’t remind me.”

  He looks back up at Marcus worriedly. “Thanks again for getting her to leave. It’s…you were always a good friend to me. Always had my back.”

  Marcus shrugs, but doesn’t say anything as he picks listlessly at his sub.

  Pete sighs heavily. “Look, Marcus…I know I’ve said it before but I need to be sure you know…I really am sorry. I should never have said anything. I was just trying to help.”

  Marcus, I’m so sorry that you’re having these…er, mental problems, but—

  I’m sorry, Marcus, but you simply can’t stay enrolled here—

  —and you must see that we’re doing this to help you.

  For fuck’s sake Marcus, we’re just trying to help! Why are you getting so upset?

  Marcus ignores the pounding in his chest as he stares intently at his plate. “Yeah. I get it. It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine,” Pete insists. “It’s bullshit! I never thought you’d get in trouble at all, let alone asked to leave school! I thought he would be the one to get kicked out! He was the one who creeped on you! It wasn’t right, the way he made you sneak around and—”

  One day we won’t have to hide, Marcus, but for now…there’s something alluring about the secrecy, don’t you think?

  Believe me, you don’t know how horrid office politics are. It’s better for you to lie low and not say anything just yet. Let me do the talking, smooth things over a bit. I don’t want either of us to get hurt.

  You’re already going to be in a lot of trouble, Marcus. Technically, you’re the one who was caught breaking the rules. Caught in a professor’s office after hours. It doesn’t look good. I can talk to them first, try to smooth things over. I’ll protect you.

  Just trust me.

  Marcus’ breathing turns shallow as he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he says weakly. “It never mattered who was right and who was wrong. They didn’t care. They were never going to take my side. I was always fucked.”