Title: Doughnut
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Duncan sifted through his stuff, the cardboard box heavy in his arms. It was for the best, they said. And even Lilly, so normally at odds with things, patted him on the shoulder, saying
"It's okay."
It didn't feel okay to him, it didn't feel alright. And yet so powerless, impotent, there was nothing he could do for her. It tore him apart inside. Watching by, always watching from the distance, and secretly wanting. It made him wonder. Could he lust over Lilly like that?
Duncan put the box down in the attic room, and with one, final motion, locked the door. Locked those memories away, never to be opened again. Never to be seen. Shame, shame on him for lusting, for wanting, needing. Duncan closed his eyes and breathed, forehead resting on the doorframe. Footsteps called him back down, down the staircase. To the sanctitude of his own room, where Logan waited, standing by and staring out the window. He jerked, shoulders shaking, then turned, wholesome smile back on his face.
"There you are."
They hugged. Awkwardly – the way Logan did, half patting him on the shoulder, and half not. Like something was holding him back. He returned to the window, Duncan followed. They watched the garden, the abandoned pool. Duncan heard his parents move about the house, then all was quiet. Sounds of the engine starting up, rumbling away into the distance. They expected him to move on, huh? They trusted him now? Despite the breakdown he'd had last week?
Gwen Stefani's "Hey Baby" came from the living room.
Lily.
Of course. Duncan laughed. A hoarse, dry laugh it was. How could they? How could he even think, for one minute, that they'd trust him enough? Enough to leave the house in his hands, after what happened last week… He claimed he couldn't remember a thing. He lied. The worst thing was, the worst: he remembered everything, saw it all. He still felt the skin around his father's neck – incredibly soft and vulnerable. Squeezing it shut, seeing white, red dots his fingers made. The tall man on his knees, finally. Begging. No more rules, no more "Duncan do this, do that", his mother's horrified shriek, Logan watching at the door.
Duncan jumped when he felt Logan's hand on his arm. Real. In the here and now. He took a step back, and so did Logan, holding up his palms.
"Sorry man,"
Logan smiled. Cautious, small smile – one reserved for him only. Things kept hidden among best friends. And yet, yet there was so much more, so much more either one of them was not telling. Duncan could feel it, in the very way Logan's fingers itched, picking at his jeans. He felt it in all the words they didn't say, in the topics they left untouched. And, crossing the distance between them, Duncan felt it in Logan's eyes – big and wide and frightened, as though not his friend, but terror itself was approaching.
The track in the living room changed, but Duncan paid no heed to it. Just background noise. All that mattered, all he saw, was the here and now inside his room.
Logan.
Perhaps this was the logical conclusion. He'd gone utterly and completely insane. Duncan couldn't stop it. He felt the spikes beneath his finger tips, and knew the hair gel should repulse him. He knew the way Logan looked – frowning, weirded out, confused – it should tell him something. The scent should throw him off, should repulse him. He kissed Logan on the lips and savored the scent, the breath, Logan's head between his elbows, their chests close, touching and heaving under their shirts.
"We're really doing this?"
What, Logan needed reassurance now? Duncan nodded, a quick jerk of the head, unsteady, unstable. He wobbled over the room and shut the door. Lilly's music barely came through, as Logan's hands felt up his sides, a hitched wet breath in his neck. Lips came down on it, licking, hissing, the hands traveled lower, past his belly and cupping the… Duncan broke away.
"Dude!"
"Hey – If we're doing this, we're doing it right."
That hard, determined stare from Logan, standing one foot away, arms akimbo. What did he expect, what had he wanted? Duncan sank on his bed, head in his hands, gently rocking to and fro. He could hear Logan's feet, soft over the carpet, approach. Then stopped in front of him. Logan's studded toe slippers in view, a platform of plastic foam.
"Can we just pretend this never happened?"
It struck Duncan, struck him gravely. Pretend it never happened! Never happened. Never... He looked up. Logan was his usual self again, albeit a little nervous. That was all this was, just another game. Yes, yes, a game. Duncan could forget, or claim he did forget, the sights and sounds and images never leaving his mind in actuality. With a smile he got up, unsteady, nodded, wavering on his feet. Logan caught him by the shoulders. They smiled. It never happened. Not really, no. Duncan breathed a sigh of relief.