Carter's POV:

Sleeping on the couch is pretty uncomfortable, but I couldn't care less right now. As angry as Jeremy was that I made him take my bed, I know it's far more comfortable, especially with all of his injuries.

Amanda mentioned that his own dad caused the injuries, and I have no clue what he did to earn that wrath. Well, based on Amanda's attitude and what she told me earlier, I fear it may be based around his dad thinking he may be gay.

The worst part is I'm afraid this is kind of all of my fault for kissing him at the damn party. Sure, I didn't go out and gloat about it, but he apparently told the priest who told his parents and got him in some kind of trouble.

I cannot imagine how hurt and broken I'd be if my dad harmed me like Jeremy's dad did to him. I'd be horrified and feel like an outcast... probably how Jeremy feels right now.

I climb off of the couch and wipe my eyes to get the sleepy, hungover look out of my eyes. Not that I took any drugs or drank any alcohol, but I have that kind of look when I don't sleep well.

My footsteps are quiet as I walk down the hall and to my room, and I'm pleased to see Jeremy is still asleep and he looks really peaceful. He's more relaxed now than I've ever seen him, and it brings a small smile to my face.

I think I've stared way too long because he begins to move and turns his head, making eye contact with me.

"You shouldn't watch people sleep. It's weird," he mumbles, his voice gravely and thick with sleep.

"Just making sure you didn't try to go use the bathroom and break a rib in the process."

Jeremy awkwardly turns and sits up, his hair messy and he looks adorable. "If I break a rib, first thing I'll do is scream. Not for help, just to make sure you wake up and damage your sleep schedule."

"Aren't you an angel."

"Obviously," he responds, rolling his eyes.

I like this side of Jeremy.

The side that isn't afraid of everything and the one that can show how much he enjoys the company of others and bickering with them. It's frustrating that his own family, the ones meant to bring out the best in him, have made him feel nervous and shy around them.

"Can you help me, though? It kind of hurts to breathe."

"What do you want, mouth to mouth?"

He shoots me a dark glare. "No. I was just saying that I'm in a lot of pain, so can you help me get to the bathroom before I pee in your bed?"

"Yeah, golden showers aren't my thing," I say, helping him up and moving slowly with him toward the bathroom.

Jeremy looks up at me, curiously. "What's a golden shower?"

"Uh... Google it... on a private browser. And don't click on any of the links, just read the definition."

"You're setting me up to give my phone a virus," he mutters, closing the door behind him.

I wait for him to finish before helping him to the kitchen and sitting him down on one of the kitchen chairs. I offer to let him lay on the couch, but he denies the offer and tries to help me cook, but I continue to lead him back to the chair.

"You need to rest. You couldn't even walk to the bathroom very well on your own," I scold him, making him purse his lips and roll his eyes.

At least he's not afraid to be bratty with me; it shows me that at least he knows I'm not going to beat the shit out of him for no reason. Well, even if there's a reason to be upset, I'd never hurt him.

He watches me cook, and when I glance over, I see him slap that damn rubber band against his already red and raw wrist. Instead of saying something right away, I keep cooking and glance back to see his cheeks red as he looks away from me and slaps his wrist with the band again.

When the food is ready, which is just kind of overcooked eggs and some dark toast that's borderline burnt, I set down a plate in front of Jeremy.

"Why do you slap your wrist with that rubber band all the time?" I ask, looking down at the flesh that could use some kind of ointment to soothe it. "And please don't say some stupid shit and lie."

He sits silently for a few minutes before he sighs. "You won't get mad at me for it?" he asks, retreating back into the shell that he was in when we first met.

"No, I just want to know why."

"Father Peter, the priest at my church, encouraged it. He said whenever I have an unholy thought about a man that I should slap my wrist with the band to dissuade me," he whispers and I feel my stomach churn with disgust. "It hasn't worked, and I promise I'm not trying to be perverted or make you uncomfortable when I look at you or anything. You're... uh, you're good looking."

I grab my keys and go to my room to grab Jeremy some clothes.

"What's this?" he asks me.

"Well, obviously they're clothes," I deadpan, helping him to stand up and walk to my room. "Do you need help changing?"

Jeremy sits down on the bed. "Do I need to get dressed?"

"Yes. Now, why does your priest say that you need to dissuade yourself from liking guys?"

"It's unholy."

I raise an eyebrow. "Do you think I'm unholy or destined to go to Hell because I'd rather play with a dick that a vagina?"

Jeremy blushes and covers his face. "I don't think so... you don't deserve to, but Father Peter and my dad say that it's wrong. Man shall not lie with man."

"Have you heard that that specific verse was mistranslated from man shall not lie with boy to man shall not lie with man? It was a reference to pedophilia, and once homophobic priest is not the end all be all," I say, helping Jeremy to put on the shirt I'm lending him.

"Don't all Catholic priests follow the same mindset?" he asks me, wincing as the shirt rubs against his back.

I shake my head. "No, they don't."

"How do you know?"

Jeremy stands up and holds onto me as I help him into the pants he was wearing yesterday because I don't think mine would fit him very well.

"Because I spoke with a priest when I realized that I liked guys," I say, and he stares at me. "My mom passed away and I was worried she'd have hated me, so I spoke with the priest at the church my parents went to... well, my dad still goes there. He was nothing but supportive, and I think he's a better guide than your ass of a priest who encourages abuse."

Jeremy looks unsure, but he allows me to guide him to the bathroom. There's a spare toothbrush in the drawer that hasn't been used, and I hand it off to him.

I run to Janelle's room and shake her awake while Jeremy fixes his adorably messy hair.

"Can I borrow your car to help save Jeremy from his ideology that every guy who likes dick is going to Hell?" I ask and she opens her eyes and they're filled with confusion.

"I need my car in two hours because I'm not walking to class, so better make it quick," she mumbles, pointing to her keys on the nightstand. "Have fun. Fuck religion."

I share the same mindset as her right now, but helping my friend is more important to me. I grab the keys and get back to Jeremy, basically carrying him to Janelle's car.

"I'm scared," Jeremy says as we pull up in the church parking lot and I help him inside. "I don't want to disappoint another priest."

I shake my head. "He won't be disappointed and I'll wait for you."

Jeremy seems to find the church comforting, because he's physically pretty relaxed despite how anxious he sounds. He sits down in the pews, waiting to be invited in, and I sit toward the back.

I hope this works; if one priest tells him that he isn't going to Hell for being who he was born to be and helps him accept himself, maybe he can live the life he deserves. All I know is that Jeremy is growing on me and I feel the desire to keep him safe and to make sure he never ends up being harmed for something he can't control again.

I just need him to trust me.