Chapter 7

Freddie's POV

I sit on my bed, hands covering my mouth, fighting back tears. I may have just lost my best mate. Cooks voice echoes inside my head.

"Since when are you a fucking fag!? What the fuck are you doin'!?"

I squeeze my eyes shut. I can't cry. I mustn't cry. I can't help it though when salty tears begin to trickle slowly down my cheeks.

Suddenly though, I'm overcome with anger. Who the fuck does he think he is? He had no right to say those things! What does he know!? He's supposed to be my best friend. The rage soon subsides however when my thoughts are flooded with memories from the day Cook and I first met when we were 11 to all the times we've got high in my shed and once again an overwhelming sense of sorrow washes over me. I can't handle this. I need a distraction. I pull out my phone and punch in the number, not bothering to check it before pressing enter. I bring the receiver to my ear and hear the sound of ringing.

"Pick up." I whisper. "Pick up. Pick up."

"Hey." I hear the familiar deep voice.

"Hey. I'm sorry, I just..." I trail off, trying to keep my voice steady and contain the sobs threatening to escape my lips.

"Freddie," Josh asks, concern evident in his voice. "whats wrong?"

I shake my head, not even caring that he can't see. "I'm just fucking done."

"Are you at home?" He asks.

"Yes." I force out.
Pause.

"I'm coming over." He says firmly and then hangs up.

I drop the phone and bring my knees to my chest, burying my face in them and trying to stop my breath from shaking.

It's only a matter of minutes before I hear the door open and footsteps coming up the stairs and across the landing. They stop outside my door and the handle turns. The door slowly creaks open. I don't look up. Strong arms encircle me and I'm pulled against a warm body. I wrap my own arms around his waist and suddenly I'm sobbing into his chest. I draw in hiccuping breaths, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably. God, when did I become so weak? We stay like this for what feels like hours, me breaking down and Josh just holding me, whispering muffled sweet nothing into my hair. When the tears finally begin to slow we still don't move. My body's gone limp against his and he cradles me in his arms like you would a delicate china doll.

Eventually, I pull away with much reluctance. Taking in a shuddery breath, I let out a weak chuckle. "I'm sorry."

"You've got nothin' to be sorry for."

I smile faintly and rest my head on his shoulder. He brings his arm up around my shoulders. We sit in silence for a while before he clears his throat and poses the question I've been both expecting and dreading. "You gonna tell me what's up then?"

Tears once again spring to my eyes but I manage to blink them back. "I told Cook." Josh remains silent, waiting for me to continue. "Let's just say he didn't take it so well."

"Whatever he said, I'm sure he didn't mean it." Josh reassures me. I just shake my head, not knowing what to say. He stares at me for a moment.

"Let's watch a film." He suggests out of the blue. I consider the idea.

"Sure." I agree.

We pull out my laptop and open Netflix. We scroll through the list of titles for a short time, ultimately deciding on some shitty horror movie. We don't really watch it anyway to be honest. We lay back on the bed and look into each others eyes. It's hard to believe we only met just over a week ago. Relationships that budded as quickly and beautifully as this were usually a thing of teen girl romance novels and bullshit chick flicks. He reaches for my hand and we intertwine our fingers. We lay like this for what feels like forever, neither of us following the plot of the slasher movie playing in the background. I forget it's even there until the volume seems to increase dramatically when the killer's chainsaw embeds itself into the torso of a teen aged boy. I jump and put a hand over my heart, breathing out heavily. "Fuckin' hell!" I giggle out, Josh laughing along with me and squeezing my hand. I gaze at him, captivated by emerald eyes. He leans in slowly, gently placing his lips against mine. I melt into the kiss and feel him softly bite my bottom lip, asking for entrance, which I allow, parting my lips and deepening the kiss. His hands travel down my torso to hold my hips, whilst mine end up fisting in his dark hair. His hand descends into the front of my boxers, and I don't know why but I panic. I pull away and grab his wrist. He looks at me, confused. "What?" He asks, and I honestly don't know what to say. I struggle to find words and within this time his hand is already in my pants again. "Stop." I say, 'though I'm not quite sure why I'm so bothered.

"Why?" He queries, looking mildly hurt.

"I just don't want to." I reply, uncomfortable.
"I thought you liked me..." The words make my gut twist with guilt.

"I do!" I quickly assure him. "Really, I do. It's just that-"

"If you liked me," he says, cutting me off. "you wouldn't push me away like this."

...maybe I'm over-reacting. Yeah, that must be it. If my actions were justified, the look of hurt on Josh's face wouldn't get to me so much. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stopped you." I say, genuinely apologetic. He smiles.

"It's alright. Just, try not to do it again, yeah?" He replies.

"Yeah."

And then his hands and back, touching my dick and I don't know why but it still doesn't feel right. The thought doesn't bother me for long, however, when blood begins to rush to my cock. I can't stifle the moans when Josh begins to pump it, squeezing gently, firmly, and most of all, skillfully. It doesn't take long before my back arches and I cum in Josh's hand. I lay there, panting, and he removes his hand from my waistband. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Kleenex. The guy came prepared I guess. He cleans off his hand and I feel myself beginning to drift off. Josh stays next to me, perfectly still, presumably falling asleep. I allow my eyes to flutter closed.
When they open again, the clock reads 9:14 PM, meaning I've slept about 6 hours. I look to my right and realize that Josh has gone. I remember the incident from earlier and decide it would be wise to have a shower. Reluctantly, I pull myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I turn the water on and step in. I wonder why it felt so wrong earlier. I mean, I like Josh, don't I? Why should I care about him jacking me off? That's what couples did, right? I've done more with girls in less time so it can't be that it was too fast. Sighing, I brush the thoughts off and pour shampoo onto my hand and lather it into my hair.

I think about Cook. Fuck. What am I gonna do? Josh said he probably didn't mean it, but he didn't see the look in his eyes. He was fuming. He must have been disgusted...

I turn the shower off and step out, water still rolling down my skin. I make my way back to my bedroom and don't bother to dress myself, just curling up under my bed covers as soon as I get in. I decide that I'll try and deal with Cook tomorrow. I close my eyes, once again falling asleep.