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“So?” Darren asked, “How’d you do it?”
Dusty chuckled. “Do what?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
All Dusty ever wanted was to be liked. It was a need nurtured by his swarm of adoring relatives, maturing into entitlement once he hit puberty and all his peers began looking at him like he was something to be devoured. He was handsome, he was sexy, he was charming, and he thought that would be enough for him to get away with whatever he wanted. So he pushed and pushed and pushed until he found a boundary that couldn’t be waved away by a handsome smile and a sexy body and crossed it anyways.
Dusty wasn’t liked any more.
St. Bruno’s was supposed to be a fresh start, a place where Dusty could go back to wrapping anyone he wanted around his pretty little finger, a new leash on a life he had thrown away because he had been too confident in himself. But Dusty had forgotten that people talked, and St. Bruno’s was close enough to Hartley that walls had already been raised by the time Dusty arrived in its hallowed halls. His teachers were wary of him. His classmates shunned him. And this time, he didn’t even have the luxury of his old friends from Hartley to fall back on. Distance made the heart grow fonder, but superficial fondness didn’t have the strength to take hold in many hearts in the first place.
So Dusty escaped. There was a psych ward in the adjoining hospital that needed volunteers, so Dusty volunteered. Maybe it was supposed to help rehabilitate his reputation, too, but it was also just…something to do.
Most of the patients were too old to care about the drama at Hartley. They liked Dusty because he was pretty.
Then there was Rowan, with his bright blue eyes and sad little smile and solid shoulders. Dusty couldn’t stop staring at Rowan. Rowan hated Dusty.
“I’ve heard about you,” Dusty said.
Rowan glared at him. Dusty filed the way Rowan’s eyes flickered up and down his body for later. “Fuck off.”
“Alright, fine,” Dusty said. Then, because he might as well indulge in the urge to be cruel, he added, “Bird psycho.”
They were fucking by the end of the week.
Rowan wasn’t Dusty’s type. He preferred them smaller, skinner, more delicate underneath his fingers. Rowan was too sturdy. But Rowan gave him attention, and Dusty lapped it up like a thirsty man in the desert.
“So what are you in here for?” Dusty asked Rowan, lying in a bed too small for two guys their size, hours past when his shift had ended. They were both naked, but that was kind of a given.
“What, you want a full list of my diagnoses?” Rowan said, question for question, “Or do you want a list of my crimes?”
Dusty hummed. He walked his fingers down the smooth plane of Rowan’s stomach. “How about both?”
That got a chuckle out of Rowan. Nice. “CPTSD and PTSD induced schizophrenia,” Rowan said, “You sure you want to deal with all of that?”
“All of that has a damn nice ass,” Dusty said, trailing his hand down lower and lower, “What about the crimes?”
“Nothing. No one pressed charges.”
“So you got away with it.” Ah. Dusty’s hand had found its target. He whispered in Rowan’s ear, “Hot.”
And that was all this was supposed to be. Something hot.
Yeah, Dusty did kinda know, but he wanted to play coy. “Uh, no, Darren I don’t know. Are you talking about how I still kick your ass at Smash Bros?”
“Fuck you, discount Bella Thorne,” Darren said, “How’d you bag two of the hottest guys at Hartley High?”
“What can I say? I’m hot.”
Against his better judgment, Dusty allowed himself to stay attached to Rowan even after the guy was discharged from the psych ward for his last year at a rebuilt Hartley High. There may have been an incident in the staff bathroom of St. Bruno’s that involved a bucket of pig’s blood, some voodoo dolls, and Dusty’s name, but the expulsion was worth it. So Dusty was back at Hartley too, because he wasn’t going to let Rowan go back into this den of horny vipers without letting them know who their competition was. Dusty was possessive. He could own up to that.
Malakai was back, too. Couldn’t handle Switzerland or something. Dusty wished he could say he didn’t care.
“What the hell are you doing, Dusty?”
He’d never seen Malakai this angry. He’d seen Malakai happy, he’d seen Malakai sad, he’d seen Malakai writhe with pleasure, but this burning anger was new. Dusty felt his back slam against the lockers. He winced. Shit, hopefully someone noticed – but maybe not, because Dusty was on thin ice and he really wanted to finish out year twelve at Hartley, and this was the kind of attention that could get him kicked out. Again.
“What the fuck, Dusty?” Malakai yelled, grabbing the front of Dusty’s shirt, “What the fuck?”
Dusty’s eyes flickered to Malakai’s lips. He wondered what they tasted like without fear and confusion and spite between them. Too late now.
“This is about Rowan,” Dusty said. He didn’t have to ask, because Rowan had filled him in, and Dusty knew how this would look to Malakai.
“Yes!” Malakai said. His face crumpled. He smelled good. “Fuck, Dusty, first that…that thing with Harper, then…then Amerie, and now…Rowan? Really? What did I do to you?”
“Look, it’s not about you,” Dusty said, hackles raised and itching to hurt, “I thought you were too busy knocking up Amerie to care that I’m sticking it up your ex.”
Malakai’s nostrils flared. “Where the fuck did you hear that?”
Wait. Shit. Really?
“Malakai, wait…I didn’t actually know…oh god, I was just being shitty, I’m sorry–”
“Shut up,” Malakai said, “Amerie doesn’t want anything to do with me, anyways.”
Ouch. “Sorry,” Dusty mumbled, because he didn’t really know what else to say.
Malakai went still. His breathing was labored, each inhale and exhale weighed down with a burden Dusty couldn’t begin to unpack. So he didn’t. That was Malakai’s shit to deal with.
Dusty gestured to Malakai’s fists balled up in his shirt. “You mind, mate?”
“Don’t call me that,” Malakai muttered. He let Dusty go. A part of Dusty wished Malakai hadn’t, that the two of them had stayed there longer so Dusty could get his fill of Malakai’s woody cologne.
Dusty didn’t miss the way Malakai’s eyes trailed down his back as he walked away.
Darren rolled their eyes. “I guess you are. Until you open your mouth.”
Dusty laughed. He appreciated that Darren was willing to call him out his shit. “I guess I’m trying to be better than I was before, you know? For them.”
“Aww, that’s actually kind of sweet. I’m literally gonna throw up.”
Dusty fucked up. He knew he shouldn’t have done what he did, but it had just been so easy. He had been sick and tired of Zoe and her Puriteens coming for Malakai and Rowan in SLTs, just because the three of them were together, and he had wanted to get Zoe back. So maybe he stole Felix’s phone, and maybe he sent Zoe some pics of his own dick, and maybe he got a few nudes back, and maybe he blast texted them to everyone at school, but Zoe had it coming. Puriteen, his ass.
But now his boyfriends were about to get on his case and Dusty had to face the music.
“Hi,” Dusty said, like a casual greeting would get Malakai and Rowan to stop crossing their arms and drop the glares they were levelling at him. It would’ve been so hot if not for the fact that they weren’t gonna be getting naked any time soon.
“We know it was you,” Malakai said.
Rowan tagged in. “Zoe sent out a counter nude, and I think all three of us know that dick isn’t Felix’s.”
“Red-handed,” Dusty said. But he wasn’t going to apologize, “You know she deserved it.”
“She was just a little annoying, Dusty,” Malakai said, “She didn’t deserve it.”
“She asked if my knees hurt from all the kneeling,” Dusty muttered, “Fuck her.”
Malakai and Rowan glanced at each other. They did that thing that Dusty was only sometimes privy to, having a conversation in the silence between their eyes. Ugh, they were both so annoying. Dusty was stupidly enamored by them.
They walked up to flank him and trap him in, Malakai on his left, Rowan on his right.
“We’ve all heard worse,” Rowan said, “Schizo cockwhore’s my personal favorite.”
Dusty’s head snapped to Rowan. “Who called you that?”
“Not Zoe,” Rowan said, “You know she doesn’t stoop that low. Always needs the moral high ground.”
“You kinda ruined her life, Dusty,” Malakai said.
Yeah, and he’d ruined Harper’s life and Amerie’s life and Ms. Obah’s life. They were thriving. Hell, he basically ruined Malakai’s life, and his own, too, and now they were making out on the regular. Zoe would be fine.
“She’ll recover,” Dusty said.
“But did she deserve it?” Rowan asked, all twisted sense of justice colored red with Malakai’s bleeding heart, “She was just a little misguided. And Ms. Obah was kinda getting through to her in SLTs.”
Dusty stood his ground. “Still.”
Malakai and Rowan stared at him. Dusty cracked.
“Fine, she was easy, okay?” Dusty muttered, “I wanted someone to lash out at because no one talks to me, Spider and Ant can’t even look at me, and Ms. Obah treats me like I’m fucking biohazard. And I get it, I get it, I’m a fucking dick, but I didn’t need Zoe to get on my case on top of all that bullshit just because…just because I’ve got two boyfriends! Fuck!”
Ah shit, he was crying. That wasn’t hot. And if Dusty wasn’t hot, then he wasn’t liked, and what was left of Dusty Reid then?
Malakai and Rowan were quiet. Then they pulled Dusty into a hug, warm and comforting as two pairs of arms wrapped him in a tight embrace. Dusty felt safe here, but fuck, it was embarassing. Malakai and Rowan deserved better than a selfish jerk of a boyfriend who couldn’t take some passive aggressive snark from a girl lamer than Spider. He wondered if they loved him the way he was starting to love them, then threw the thought aside. The truth would just make him sadder. He bawled in his boyfriends’ arms until the sobs subsided and he could string together a coherent sentence.
“God. I’m fucked up,” Dusty said.
“I think all three of us are,” Rowan chuckled.
Malakai nodded. “But seriously, you gotta try to be better than this, Dusty.”
“No promises,” Dusty said, “I think I’ll always be a little bit of an asshole. But I’ll try.”
“Our asshole,” Rowan said, planting a kiss on Dusty’s cheek.
“Our asshole,” Malakai echoed, kissing Dusty’s other cheek.
Sappy. Gross. But still kinda hot.
“Hey, Jett,” Rowan greeted, a bouquet of flowers hanging limply in his hand.
Gravestones couldn’t talk back.
“I’ve…I’ve got updates.”
“So. Malakai.”
Rowan groaned. He really didn’t want to talk about Malakai with Dusty right now. He had just fucked Dusty within an inch of his life, and he was planning to return the favor in thirty-ish more minutes. He’d dated enough to know that talking about exes was going to kill the nice, horny mood he was in and throw his overthinking brain into overdrive, so Rowan would really, really rather not.
Dusty, the jerk, pushed. “There’s unresolved shit there and you know it, babes. He pushed me against the lockers because of you.”
“Hot,” Rowan said, because the idea of Malakai ordering Dusty around was sexy as hell, but also because he wanted to steer the conversation towards safer waters.
Dusty’s face lit up. “Oh?” he said, “Look at you, getting all hot and bothered.”
In one smooth motion, Dusty grabbed Rowan and flipped him over, pinning his hands above his head and pressing his weight down on Rowan’s torso. He flicked his tongue against Rowan’s ear as he whispered, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You wanna watch Malakai pin me down? Wanna watch him treat me like how I treat you?”
Oh, fuck. This asshole had Rowan wrapped around his little finger. Dusty was going to break his heart one day, but maybe that was what Rowan deserved. Karma shouldn’t feel this good.
Later, after it was Rowan’s turn to be fucked into the mattress, Rowan found himself saying, “Did you really mean it?”
“Mean what?” Dusty mumbled, blissed out and pliant as Rowan played with his curls.
“Malakai,” Rowan said, because his greed was biblical and if he could have both Dusty and Malakai, then he would. Even if he didn’t deserve either one of them, even if it would prove all the little voices in his head telling him he was a selfish prick right, Rowan yearned. Maybe he could have it. Or maybe this would just quicken the inevitable shattering of his heart.
“Yeah. I did,” Dusty said, “But I don’t think he’ll say yes. I’ve…I’ve fucked up with him already.”
There was history there, maybe as deep as what Rowan had with Amerie, but Rowan was too sleepy to interrogate it further. “I did, too,” Rowan said, “Maybe we can both get a do over.”
“Maybe,” Dusty said. There was something sad in his eyes. He looked at Rowan like this thing between them was on borrowed time, like he knew there was a limit to how much of Rowan he could have and was trying to savor every stolen second. Then he kissed Rowan’s forehead and rolled over, pushing Rowan towards the direction of the bathroom. “Go take your meds.”
Rowan rolled his eyes. But he appreciated that Dusty seemed to care. “Yes, mom.”
Rowan sat himself down beside his brother’s grave. “I’m dating. And it’s…it’s good, surprisingly. Not conventional but good.”
Nothing.
“It’s Malakai. Again. I know, I know. And…and this other guy. Dusty.”
Amerie avoided Rowan. Harper avoided Rowan. Darren and Quinni and Ant and Spider – they all avoided Rowan. He was Bird Psycho. He was the guy so consumed by his grief that he had tormented an innocent girl over a death she had no part in. He was the kid that ended up in the psych ward for a term and was now playing catch-up so he could graduate on time. And he was dating Dusty – public enemy number one fucking public enemy number two. So he understood. He avoided everyone, too. He already said his piece, apologized as best he could, and it was their right to punish him.
But he needed to talk to Malakai.
He wasn’t going to bring up what he talked about with Dusty, not when he was pretty sure Malakai hated them both. The idea of all three of them, together, was just a flight of fancy. Rowan shouldn’t hang his absolution on that.
He found Malakai on the benches eating lunch alone. Malakai was kind of alone a lot these days.
“Hey,” Rowan greeted, tentative, like the smallest noise could scare Malakai away.
Malakai didn’t bolt. “Hey.”
“Can I…”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Malakai said, a little eager and a little awkward as he shuffled to the edge of the bench to make room for Rowan. It was so reminiscent of those first fluttery days, when Malakai had just been a crush he could be bumbling and awkward with, that something in Rowan’s chest twisted.
Rowan knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find his line in the script. He improvised. “So, uh, where’s…”
“Oh, you think I have friends?” Malakai said, chuckling, “Nah. Turns out nobody really saw me as anything but Amerie’s guy, and since Amerie’s kinda done with me after…yeah…There’s still Missy, but she’s busy making out with Spider, so.”
“Oh. Weird.”
“Says the guy dating Dusty fucking Reid,” Malakai said.
As punishment for the very low, very dirty blow, Rowan reached across Malakai to steal one of his apple slices. They jostled for a bit, laughter ringing out bright over the commons as the apple slice ended up forgotten on the ground. Then Malakai’s hand brushed Rowan’s, and the two of them pulled apart like they had both been singed.
Right. For a moment, Rowan had forgotten. But karma didn’t. He should do what he came here to do. Then he could spend the rest of the year avoiding Malakai like he was avoiding everyone else. “I’m sorry, Malakai.”
“What, for dating Dusty?” Malakai said, trying to keep the tone light.
Rowan shook his head. “No. For what I did when…when I was with Amerie and saw your friendship with her as a threat. That was…I was being so shitty. You didn’t deserve that.”
Malakai was quiet. Then he said, “You scared me.”
That stung. That stung a lot. Rowan wondered how he was going to punish himself for this tonight. “I…I’m so sorry.”
“It’s…fine. But you were dealing with so much and I didn’t know, Rowan, I didn’t know, because I never bothered to ask you,” Malakai said. “Rowan, I was such a shitty boyfriend. I barely even got to know you. You deserved someone that bothered.”
“It’s okay,” Rowan said, a familiar feeling crawling up his chest, “I didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve someone that cared.”
“Yes, you did.”
Shame.
“No. I don’t.”
Malakai grabbed Rowan’s hand, “Let me make it up to you. Please.”
Rowan shook his head, because he didn’t deserve someone like Malakai. He deserved to be used, to be broken, to be thrown to the side once he was no longer shiny and new. Once, he would’ve advocated for himself, fought to be more than collateral damage for someone else’s epiphany. But that was when he was convinced he was in the right. He wasn’t. He never was. Care was reserved for people who didn’t bully a girl because he couldn’t deal with the guilt of leading his brother to his death.
“You like movies, right? God, we never even…We can watch a movie? Together?” Malakai said, “Please?”
Ah. Rowan could see it now. This wasn’t meant for him. This was meant for Malakai. Rowan should say yes to this, because he owed Malakai that much, at least.
“Okay,” Rowan said. For Malakai’s sake.
“All three of us are a little fucked up,” Rowan said softly, “But we’re trying. For each other.”
The wind howled in response.
“I think I might love those two, Jett. And it terrifies me.”
Someone left a dead bird in Dusty’s locker. There was a note attached to it – “mansluts go to hell,” and a crude drawing of Dusty on his knees next to a figure that vaguely resembled Voss.
Oh. Fuck. This was all Rowan’s fault.
“What in the Nightmare on Elm Street? I can’t believe…Bird Psycho two-point-oh?” Amerie said, turning to the assembled students jostling for a look into Dusty’s locker. “Alright, who is it?”
Malakai had thrown a protective arm over Dusty’s shoulder. Dusty looked like he was starting to curl up into himself.
Everyone else’s heads turned to stare at Rowan.
Harper shrugged. “Well, at least this time the guy deserves it.”
Laughter. Malakai shouting “Shut up!” Dusty telling Malakai to drop it.
This was all Rowan’s fault.
His feet moved on autopilot, carrying him away so he could fester in the guilt threatening to burst out of his chest. A fucking copycat. Bird Psycho Two, Electric Boogaloo, but now Dusty – or maybe it was Malakai – was the target. And it was Rowan and his self-righteousness and misaimed justice that caused all of this. He stomped through the halls, pushing his way through the throngs of students, trying to find a place where he could breathe, could wallow, anything.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Rowan saw a shock of blond curls. He stopped dead in his tracks.
“Damn. Right mess you’ve got yourself in, Rowan.” Jett.
But Jett wasn’t here. Jett wasn’t supposed to be here anymore.
Jett looked at him quizzically. “What’s up with you, Rowan?”
Rowan knew Jett wasn’t real. But he looked real and he sounded real and maybe he was real and Rowan had just been–
“Rowan?” Malakai. Dusty was with him.
Jett was still there.
“I…I need my meds,” Rowan said, “The…the ones for emergencies.”
Dusty nodded. Right, Malakai hadn’t really learned about Rowan’s medication beyond their general existence, but Dusty had become intimate with the details during his volunteering stint. Dusty rushed off, leaving Malakai to crowd against Rowan. Oh. Malakai was shielding him from everyone else.
“Where’s Jett?” Malakai asked gently.
Rowan pointed. Malakai stepped between Rowan and the ghost of his brother.
“Thanks,” Rowan said, “I’m–”
“Hey. Don’t apologize.” Malakai said.
“The bird. Dusty. You,” Rowan said, “I make your life so complicated.”
“Honestly? Worth.”
Rowan doubted it, but maybe he could believe Malakai’s pretty little lie for a bit longer. He could wrap himself in blissful ignorance as he waited for the other shoe to drop and crush him whole. Maybe it would take the spectre of Jett with it. Maybe Rowan’s brain would finally be quiet.
Dusty came back with Rowan’s meds and a bottle of water. “Here,” he said, handing the pills and the water to Rowan, “You’re okay, Rowan. You’re okay.”
He wasn’t, but maybe he would be. Rowan popped the pills, willing the image of his brother to fade. Jett stayed stubbornly there, just behind Malakai, but he was starting to go blurry around the edges. Okay. Good.
Rowan could feel his heart begin to slow. “Fuck. That sucked.”
Dusty nodded. “I know. But I’m a big boy. I can take it. So stop blaming yourself.”
The lie was automatic. “I wasn’t,” Rowan said.
Dusty clicked his tongue. “Don’t lie to me, I can see you overthinking, babes.”
Damn. Dusty got him there.
“You wanna cut?” Malakai asked.
“Class barely started,” Rowan said.
Malakai grinned. “Exactly.”
Rowan turned to Dusty. He nodded, encouraging. Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan could see Jett starting to fade.
“Okay,” Rowan said, “Let’s cut.”
Woodsy caught them before they were even out of the front gate, but detention with his boyfriends was worth it. Maybe Rowan could start learning to be okay with complicated. Maybe he could be a little easier on himself. Maybe he could convince himself that he deserved this, just a little. That would be nice.
“Malakai, we need to talk, and yes, this is an intervention,” Missy said, cornering Malakai before he could meet Rowan and Dusty after school.
Malakai wished people would stop cornering him. “Missy, whatever you want to say, I’ve already heard it.”
“Not from me you haven’t.”
Malakai hated this. He’d been so excited to come back to Hartley after a miserable term in Switzerland, ready to restart all the things he’d hit pause on while he was away. His friends, his schooling, his…well, Amerie, but he had returned to find his absence had hardened their hearts against him. It was his fault for growing tired of the drama. It was his fault for wanting to run away. It was his fault for being a coward.
Maybe he should’ve stayed in Switzerland, but Malakai could only endure ignorant classmates asking him if he spoke Spanish or if he liked salsa so many times before he felt like clawing his eyes out. It was hard being a flavor of brown without popular recognition in a country so painfully European. So he returned the first chance he could, begged his parents to help him reverse a decision that should’ve been irreversible, to try and find some of the warmth he didn’t know he would miss. He didn’t find it. He found dismissal instead.
And, on top of it all, Rowan was dating Dusty. The universe was really out to get him.
Especially today, since Dusty was approaching him before independent study with an expression that screamed “let’s talk.” Malakai could only count Missy as a friend, but even crippling loneliness couldn’t convince him that Dusty anything was a good idea.
“‘Sup?” Dusty greeted.
Malakai was cautious as he returned the greeting. “Hey.”
It was warmer than usual today, and Dusty had pulled his hair into a bun and ditched his usual button up for his sleeveless undershirt. Malakai tried not to stare at the two loose curls hanging down his face, or his sculpted arms glistening in the sunlight. Dusty could be as sexy as he wanted, Malakai was over it.
The two of them stood there awkwardly, the silence stretching longer than comfortable.
“I needa–”
“Why are you–”
They both flinched. The silence returned, but this time Dusty beat Malakai to chasing it away. “It’s…Rowan.”
Malakai narrowed his eyes. What a pretty, handsome jerk. “What, bruv, are you looking for advice from your boyfriend’s ex? Ask Amerie.”
“Amerie hates me,” Dusty said. He looked at Malakai, pale blue eyes half-lidded under long, dark lashes. “I think you just…dislike me.”
Malakai hated how that look sent his heart racing, like how Amerie made his heart flutter and Rowan made his heart skip a beat. Maybe Malakai was the type to never get over the people he liked.
“That’s an understatement,” Malakai muttered, “Thanks for the bi awakening, I guess, but you’ve gotta work on your timing.”
Dusty’s face dropped. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” Malakai said.
“It was shitty of me,” Dusty said, “All the stuff after, too.” Malakai hated how his big eyes and messy curls made him look so innocent when this was the same jerk that had never taken responsibility for any of his shit.
“Are we done?”
“I – no. Rowan, Malakai, I need to talk to you about him,” Dusty said.
Malakai crossed his arms. If Dusty was going to be stubborn about it, then – “Fine. Make it quick.”
“I like him. I like him a lot,” Dusty said. It sounded like he was squeezing this out of his chest, like it was the first time he said these words aloud, “And I wanna be better for him. But he thinks I’m going to break his heart. I can tell he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Malakai scoffed. “As he should.”
Dusty shook his head sadly. “No. He’s going to break my heart.”
What a jackass. “Uh, you’re already blaming him for your imaginary breakup?”
“No!” Dusty said, “God, Malakai, it’s you. He’s still in love with you.”
Malakai froze. His heart hammered in his chest. He had tried so hard to ignore the little glances and quiet touches and tiny signs, but he had been right. The ghost of that fragile thing between Malakai and Rowan was still there. And god, what he would do for that kind of intimacy again. But Rowan was with Dusty, and Dusty looked like he was already bracing for the impact of having his heart be trampled. Malakai couldn’t do that to Dusty. He reached for his phone, scrolling through his contacts so he could cancel his movie plans with Rowan.
“No. Stop that,” Dusty said, “Go hang out with him. It’ll make him happy.”
Malakai huffed. “You need to stop acting like Rowan’s supposed to break your heart. I’ll leave you two alone. Go sort it out.”
Dusty grabbed Malakai’s hand, keeping him from opening Rowan’s contact. “Stop.”
“Dusty.”
“Maybe this isn’t just about Rowan,” Dusty said, “Maybe this is about you, too.”
“What?”
“I want you both…” Dusty trailed off, squeezing Malakai’s hands. The touch was electric, sending shivers running down Malakai’s spine.
“...to be happy,” Dusty whispered.
Then he let Malakai go and walked away. Malakai stopped. He stared at his phone. He stared at Dusty’s retreating back. Then his phone, then Dusty again.
He pocketed his phone.
“Amerie literally broke her vow of silence against me to tell me how badly I’m fucking up,” Malakai said, “So no, I think I’m good, Missy.”
“Ugh, check your assumptions, I’m not saying Dusty and Rowan are bad, even if they kind of objectively are,” Missy said.
Malakai groaned. “So what is it, then?”
Malakai had forgotten how easy it was to be with Rowan.
“It’s a good movie!” Malakai insisted, “You know, the good guys win, the bad guys die, all that good stuff.”
“It’s fine, but god, James Cameron is predictable,” Rowan said, “I called that last battle beat by beat.”
“But it was cool!”
“I can’t believe you’re a spectacle guy. This movie’s gonna be forgotten by next year, watch.”
They were bumping shoulders, joking, laughing, returning to each other’s orbit like they had never left. Malakai wondered why he had let this fall apart. Hindsight was so much easier now with Amerie’s rejection behind him, and Rowan’s laughter right in front of him. Maybe he shouldn’t have let his feelings for her blind him. Or maybe his nostalgia filter was already kicking in, discarding all the pieces that hurt and leaving only the little happy moments to speculate on.
Didn’t matter. Rowan wasn’t Malakai’s to have.
“What does Dusty think? Of the movie?” Malakai asked, because maybe mentioning Rowan’s boyfriend would distract Malakai from how this hang out was starting to look uncomfortably date-shaped.
“He’s not a movie buff. He’ll watch romcoms with me, but that’s about it,” Rowan said.
“Oh.” That didn’t seem fair. Rowan deserved better.
Rowan shrugged. “Eh, I’m not into rugby like he is. I’ll play, sure, but Dusty’s the one that follows the leagues and keeps up with the stats and stuff.”
“I like both,” Malakai blurted out, but he wasn’t really sure why. “Movies. Rugby.”
“So you do.”
And, because Malakai was on a roll right now with losing his brain-to-mouth filter, he said, “Are you happy? With Dusty?”
Rowan nodded. “Yeah. He takes care of me. Knows my meds and stuff. I…I think he’ll break my heart one day, but I’m too stupid to let him go.”
“Rowan, what happened? I thought you said you didn’t want to be anyone’s collateral damage,” Malakai said.
Rowan shrugged. It was a sad, quiet little thing. It made Malakai want to kiss Rowan.
So he did, impulsive, shitty, and idiotic. And Rowan kissed him back.
Malakai broke the kiss. “We can’t do this.”
“We can,” Rowan said.
Malakai shook his head. “Dusty.”
Rowan smiled. He grabbed Malakai’s hand and squeezed. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
Malakai shook his head again. “No. Where are we going?”
“Dusty’s. He’s home. And he’s got the bigger bed.”
“You three are codependent as fuck,” Missy said, “That’s not healthy.”
“Well, neither is dating Spider White.”
“Asshole! Dusty’s rubbing off on you.” Missy said, laughing.
“I’m not sure if I want to go to the party tonight,” Malakai muttered. The knot tied in his stomach ever since Quinni invited him to this start-of-term-but-not-really rager had still not gone away, and now it was twisting tighter and tighter. He didn’t want to think about who was going to be there, what they were going to think, what they were going to say.
“Babes, don’t be lame,” Dusty said, insensitive in that oblivious way both Malakai and Rowan had learned to navigate around. He fluttered around the room, rummaging through his closet for the perfect button-up for their social debut. Complementary, but not matching. It felt metaphorical.
Malakai locked eyes with Rowan. Rowan reached over and squeezed Malakai’s knee. “You alright?”
“No, not really,” Malakai said.
That made Dusty stop. “What’s wrong, Malakai?”
Malakai shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a good experience at a party.”
Dusty understood. He didn’t say anything, he just dropped the button-up he was carrying and sat down next to Malakai on the bed, pulling Malakai into his arms and peppering his face with kisses.
“Oh. Are we skipping to the snogging phase of the night, then?” Rowan asked.
Dusty rolled his eyes in mock annoyance. “Yes, Rowan, get over here.”
The three of them lazily made out for a few minutes, roaming hands and wandering lips leaving Malakai flustered as Dusty and Rowan slowly took him apart. The knot in his stomach untangled. The thought of unseen, familiar faces judging his presence faded away. He sighed, content.
“We should go to that party,” Malakai said, moaning softly as Rowan worked a hickey into his neck.
“Should we?” Dusty asked, trailing kisses up Rowan’s back, “You sure?”
Malakai squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. He could get over his own insecurities if Dusty’s pride was satiated. “Y-yeah. Wanna show you two off…”
Dusty moaned. “God, you two are so fucking hot.”
There was a hand grasping at Malakai’s jumper, and another pulling at his fly. He had his lips on Dusty’s, and Rowan was whispering in his ear. “We should finish here first.”
The three of them moved as one. Finish this first, then Malakai could face anything. Maybe Missy was right. Maybe the three of them were too codependent to be healthy.