This is a weird, sad one.

My phone buzzed violently on the nightstand, loud against the quiet of my room. I grabbed it before the second vibration, hoping, stupidly, that it was Chris.

It wasn’t.

Jamie: Are you awake? I can see your light on.

Me: Wait, are you outside right now?

Jamie: Can I crash at your place?

Me: Wtf! You’re joking, right?

Jamie: Please, Troy. I don’t have anywhere else to stay right now.

That last message made something twist in my gut. No place to go? What the hell happened?

Things had just started settling down. Chris and I were... okay. Actually, more than okay. So why did it always fall back on me to deal with things like this?

Still, I couldn’t leave him out there in the pouring rain.

Me: Climb up, then.

I got up and peeked through the blinds. A figure in a soaked hoodie trudged across the lawn, hunched against the rain. Jamie. Of course. I opened the window as quietly as I could and leaned out.

“Careful,” I whispered.

He struggled to find footing on the ledge, slipping twice. I grabbed his arm and pulled, helping him scramble through. He collapsed onto my carpet with a wet thud, water dripping off him like he’d just crawled out of a lake.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

His voice was hoarse. He tried to smile, but it faltered halfway. His eyes were glassy, rimmed red, and heavy with exhaustion. I couldn’t tell if it was from the drugs or crying.

“You have to leave before sunrise,” I told him. “If my parents catch you, I’m fucked.”

I glanced down at the growing puddle around him. “And you're dripping all over my floor. Just take your clothes off and get in bed.”

No smirk. No comeback. Just quiet compliance.

That’s when it hit me... this wasn’t Jamie anymore.

The spark, the fire, the trouble-for-fun version of him—gone.

What was left looked like someone trying not to fall apart.

He peeled off his hoodie and t-shirt with stiff, pained movements. That’s when I saw it. A bruise, dark and sprawling, bloomed across the left side of his back like ink bleeding beneath his skin. I stared. He noticed.

We didn’t speak.

I tossed him a dry t-shirt and a pair of old sweatpants. He caught them and gave a weak nod.

“I can take the pouffe,” he said. “It’s fine. I’ve slept in worse.”

“No way,” I said. “You take the bed.”

I glanced at the pouffe. It looked barely comfortable for a cat. With bruises like that, there was no way he was curling up on the floor.

“Thanks, man.”

He climbed under the covers like every muscle in his body hurt. I sat on the pouffe in front of him, arms folded, watching the rain trail down the window.

If you’d told eighth-grade me that Jamie Hudson would end up in my bed while I slept on the floor? I’d have laughed—and then probably kicked myself in the balls. But then again, back then, I hadn’t met Chris.

“Give me a sec,” I muttered, pulling out my phone. I didn’t want another fight. I just needed Chris to understand.

Me: Jamie showed up at my place asking to stay the night. I don’t think he’s okay. I didn’t know what to do, so I told him he could stay.

Chris: Seriously, Troy?

My chest tightened. I stared at the message, fingers frozen over the screen. One line. Cold. Clipped.

“Hey,” Jamie said softly from the bed. “Everything okay?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Just... give me a sec,” I repeated.

Me: He's really fucked up. Look, I’m sleeping on the floor, I swear. I promise I’ll explain everything tomorrow, okay?

Chris: It’s fine. I’m not mad... just being honest.

Chris: But I trust you.

Chris: Let me know if you need anything.

I let out a shaky breath. At least he still trusted me. That had to count for something.

“Who are you texting?” Jamie asked.

“Chris.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I told him about our, uh... little escapade, the other day,” I said. “He wasn’t thrilled.”

Jamie stared at me.

“Wait. Are you saying you cheated on him? With me? You know I hate that shit, dude!”

“What? No! We weren’t together back then.”

“Oh... so you are now?”

My face went hot. “Kinda... yeah.”

He grinned, the first one of the night. “Aww, look at you. All grown up and shit.”

I rolled my eyes.

“No, seriously. I’m happy for you. Maybe now that he’s getting laid, he’ll stop being so bitchy.”

“Hey!”

Jamie smirked. “Also, I knew you were into twinks, anyway.”

“Dude! Are you serious right now? Just shut up, okay? Don’t be weird.”

I neither confirm nor deny those allegations.

His expression shifted, more thoughtful now. “Anyway... I’ve been meaning to apologize.”

“You didn’t have to do it in the middle of the night. But thanks.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “You know I like being dramatic.”

Then he sobered. “But seriously. That night... I didn’t mean to force anything. I was in a really fucked-up place. I would never do that to you. To anyone.”

“I know. And you didn’t.”

“But you shouldn’t be drinking like that. That shit gets to your head, you know?”

“Yeah... There’s a long list of things I shouldn’t be doing, if we’re being honest right now.”

He hesitated. “You kinda left me hanging, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why did you stop? Was it something I did? Oh, was it... Chris?”

“It wasn’t you,” I said quietly. “It was Chris, yeah... I realized I wasn’t confused anymore.”

“You could’ve told me.”

“I know. I wasn’t trying to lead you on. I just... didn’t know.”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Jesus. Romantic drama gives me anxiety.”

“It’s not all bad, you know. Being with someone like that. It can feel... good. You could try it, for a change.”

He looked at me with a wry smile. “Troy. Listen. You don’t get it.”

He sat up a little straighter.

“I’m not anti-relationship because I’m jaded or scared,” he said. “I mean—I’m messed up in a bunch of other ways. But that’s not one of them.”

He caught the expression on my face and added, “Don’t try to fix what’s not broken, okay?”

I blinked. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Look. It’s not weird. It’s just not what I want.”

“Some people are wired for romance. Some aren’t. If people stopped forcing it, maybe they’d stop cheating so much.”

“So you don’t think monogamy works?”

“For some people? Totally. Otherwise, society wouldn’t be built around it. I just don’t like it for me. I like meeting people. Talking. Connecting.”

He paused. “It’s not just about getting my rocks off. I’ve made some of my best friends that way.”

He exhaled. “Also... romantic shit? Cringe. If I’m involved, anyway. But I still like seeing other people together and happy. Like you and Chris.”

“I didn’t know that about you.”

“Yeah, well... I’ve been drifting. From you and everyone else.”

“What happened, Jamie?”

“My dad.”

He stared up at the ceiling like it could swallow him.

“I guess I’m just... too much sometimes.”

“That’s not a reason or an excuse for what he did to you.”

“It’s complicated. I know he loves me. He just can’t... control himself sometimes.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Jamie...”

“Remember when I missed school for a week last year?”

“Yeah. Then you showed up with a new car.”

He laughed bitterly. “He caught me making out with another dude in the pool. Broke a couple of ribs. Then bought me a car because he felt bad about it.”

I swallowed hard. Deep down, I’d always suspected it was his dad. But I pushed it aside. Told myself it was just a feeling.

And at that moment, sitting there, I felt like the biggest asshole alive. Because I still didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to do.

Do I go to the police? Tell the school? What if Jamie finds out and hates me for it? What if I make it worse?

“And that black eye you asked about a few weeks ago?” he added. “That was after I got kicked off the baseball team.”

“What? Kicked off? But you love playing.”

“Yeah. I missed a bunch of practices. I was too high to go. My performance kinda went to shit too.”

“Jesus, Jamie...”

“What happened today?”

He paused, then said, “He caught me shooting.”

“Are you fucking insane?! Shooting what?!”

For a second, I honestly wanted to shake him, not out of anger, but out of pure fear.

“Relax. It wasn’t hard stuff. Just K. The usual. Not even a full dose.”

He said it so casually, like it was part of his routine.

“Why would you shoot it, though? What happened to... I don’t know, literally anything else?”

“My nose is busted.”

That hit like a punch.

He didn’t even flinch when he said it.

“Jesus, Jamie... You’ve gotta stop. I’m serious. This isn’t edgy anymore. It’s dangerous and damn stupid.”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” he muttered, sinking into the pillow, one arm over his eyes. “I’m tired.”

His hands trembled—barely, but enough.

“I’m worried about you,” I whispered.

“Then let’s stop now. One more thing to worry about isn’t gonna help.”

“Thanks for letting me stay, Pretty Boy. Really. I just bolted out of the house. Didn’t even bring the car keys. And your place is the closest.”

“Don’t worry about that, dude. Just try to get some sleep.”

He turned his back to me.

Outside, the rain kept tapping against the window.

The bruise on his back was still there.

So was everything he didn’t, or couldn’t, say.