chapter 39

Beau's muscles ached from practice, the swollen bruise plastered over his eye throbbing dully.

It wasn't the first time Beau had received a black eye from rugby and it definitely wouldn't be the last. He was the most competitive player on the team — that was undeniable. They had to win, they needed to win. If that took playing a little dirty, then so be it.

His face was rarely clean of any scratches, bruises, or bloodied injuries. He left almost every single match with one or two wounds, if he even got through the whole game that was. He was usually pulled out before half time, disqualified for misconduct, inappropriate behaviour or some other bullshit.

The coach hated him. He was always getting scolded for something; for not playing by the rules, for injuring the other team, sometimes for injuring his own team. But somehow he'd kept his place. He was one of the best players and he knew Hillford couldn't sacrifice him, no matter how many teeth were lost along the way.

Everyone at school knew Beau Sullivan's name. He was one of the few students that people actually cared about, probably because he was the only kid who generated this much gossip. The thing with Beau was that all the rumours about him were true. He led such a crazy life that there was no need to make anything up.

Yes, he'd had threesomes, he'd set a car on fire, he'd shoplifted, he'd stolen and lied and cheated. He'd done everything everyone else was too scared to do. So, naturally, whenever a new rumour sprung up about the boy, no one hesitated to believe it.

The only thing people struggled to get their head around was the fact that he was dating Micah Johnston.

No one could quite believe the rumours spreading like wildfire about the new relationship. Beau was their star rugby player; he was tall and broad and muscular. He was too straight to be gay, too masculine to date Micah. Half the girls had slept with him, it just couldn't be true. 

Eventually, Beau got so frustrated with the constant questions and curious stares that he grabbed Micah in the middle of the corridor and kissed him square on the lips. Micah blushed and pushed him off, but Beau was glad to finally be able to claim what was his. He saw the way some of the boys looked at his boyfriend, and he hated it. He hated the hunger and the lust in their eyes. Because Micah was his. 

Unlike his boyfriend, Micah wasn't rough or loud or boisterous. His gentle features were soft and feminine; his silky caramel hair pulled out of his kind face using butterfly clips, his light green eyes always curious and perceptive. He wore mascara and sometimes concealer to hide his freckles, his ear was pierced and his left arm decorated with bracelets and bands of all colours. He wasn't the athletic type; he was skinny and lacked any real muscle, his height well below average — he barely made it to Beau's shoulders. 

He was his boyfriend's complete opposite. Where Micah's features were soft and rounded, Beau's were sharp and defined. His amber eyes stood out against his light brown skin, his full lips tracing back to his African roots. Beau's complexion was a gentle mix of his Mother's English background with her creamy white skin, and his Father's dark chocolate complexion. Beau's hair was tousled and black as coal, never quite laying neatly on his head, and his expression was rarely missing a smirk and a bruise.

Beau had never payed Micah any thought; he was just a twink from the year below. And suddenly, he saw him in a completely different light. Micah got a job at the same cafe Beau worked at and the pair immediately gravitated towards each other. Beau was never one to care about what other people thought, nor question his own identity in too much depth. The second he realised he liked Micah, he asked him out, no hesitation.

He didn't label himself as gay or bi or queer. He was just happy. Happy to call the dork his.

But things weren't exactly how they appeared to the dozens of people labelling them as 'cute' and 'adorable'. Because their relationship was rooted in rage and anger and aggression. Fiery passion and unfiltered emotions. Micah wasn't the sweet, harmless boy he appeared to be; he was feisty and sarcastic and unstable.

Not only was Micah bipolar but so was their relationship. One minute they were all over each other, the next they were having a screaming match. They would argue and then have sex. Micah would physically hurt Beau and Beau would have to physically restrain him. Micah would cry and Beau would hug him. They'd cuddle, then resume fighting. They'd have rough sex, then gentle love making.

It was dysfunctional and unhealthy. Essentially their relationship was toxic. They weren't good for each other but neither could leave. They were both intoxicated by some kind of addictive drug — it would take a doctor dragging them off kicking and screaming for them to ever consider leaving each other.

And yet, to everyone else, they appeared so perfectly perfect.

Sometimes Micah would flirt with other boys to make Beau jealous, sometimes Beau would beat the shit out of them in return. Sometimes Micah would ask him to hurt him — he liked the pain. Beau would never agree. Micah could hit him and scratch him as much as he liked but Beau could never do it back. Sometimes Micah would hurt himself; stick his hand in a pot of boiling water or smoke a million fags until his lungs nearly gave way.

They needed each other. Because if they broke up, they'd fall apart. But if they stayed together, they'd slowly tear each other apart.

"I'm home!" Leah shouted up the stairs as the front door slammed shut behind her. it was almost six o'clock, Leah had just finished hockey training. The boys were cuddling in Micah's bedroom, resting after an argument, perhaps preparing for the next one.

"Up here!" Micah replied.

Leah bounded up the staircase and barged into the room without so much as a knock. Her forehead glistened with sweat and her cheeks glowed rosy pink from the exercise. She collapsed onto the end of the bed, joining the two boys with a smile. "What's up?" She started.

"Not much. Why weren't you in psychology?" Beau queried. He had been one of Leah's close friend before he'd even started dating her brother.

"I went round to Dorian's. I wanted to check he was okay."

"Why wouldn't he be?" Micah piped up. He was snuggled into Beau's side, his boyfriend's arm draped over his shoulder protectively. He stiffened at the mention of Dorian's name, his mind instantly taking him back to the night that had changed things for him in so many ways. He was his first crush, his first kiss, then his first handjob. He'd never told Beau about it and he was praying Leah wouldn't let anything slip.

"He just missed a couple of days of school and didn't tell anyone why. None of us could reach him." She explained.

"The coach was pretty pissed about him missing training." Beau added. 

"Well, he had a good reason." Leah shrugged, flicking her purple ponytail over her shoulder. "D'you guys know much about Corey Winters?"

Both boys frowned in confusion. Micah was the first to break the silence, "He seems sweet. Quiet, but sweet."

"Yeah, super quiet." Leah agreed. "He was at Dorian's when I went over. Barely said a word."

"He was with Dorian?" Beau's brows furrowed further. "I didn't realise they were friends."

"Neither." She shot back. "Anyway, I suppose it's none of our business really." She shrugged. "Who wants to order pizza?"