🏆Featured on TeenFiction | Head Over Heels
To Leroy 'Lee' Hiew, home's never felt like home. He has a huge mansion, a big car, and more money than he could ever spend. And yet, the idea of home always seems to elude him.
Armed with his dog, Socks...
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If anyone had asked Lee if he hates his father, his earlier answer would have been a resounding No. Now, with the world crashing down around his ears like red-hot rain, pummelling him with a thousand burning comets until he's bent double and bruised to hell, he's not so sure.
Jack walks over to the bed, bending down to wrap his fingers around Lee's wrist. Even in his anger, his touch is light, gentle, and the way he cares so softly sets Lee's heart aflame. "Let's go. Dad wants to talk to you," he says, voice tight. "My dad, not yours. Though yours seems to want to talk to you too." His veins, popping out of his skin, press against Lee's palm like powerlines running through the city.
"Are you angry at me?" Lee asks quietly, still sitting stock-still, afraid to enrage Jack further.
All the fight seems to go out of Jack's body, and he visibly deflates. "No---of course not, Lee. Why would I be angry at you? I'm just..." Jack reaches up to his temples to rub it aggressively. "Honestly, I'm just angry for you."
"Don't be." Lee stands up, trying to hide the way his world keeps imploding and all he can do is stand back and watch the carnage erupt. He attempts a smile, but it slips right off his face as if his teeth are skating rinks. "I can be angry by myself. Besides..." He reaches up to Jack's face, lightly cupping his right cheek until he manages to coax a begrudging flash of teeth out of Jack. "You're prettier when you're smiling."
Jack flushes. "Bullshit."
"The only thing that's bullshit is my dad. Come on. Let's go talk to your daddy." Lee twists his hand around so his fingers land in Jack's, casually twining their digits together.
"And most of all, I'm not sure how to say that maybe I do want to hold your hand."
Lee knows the statement had been totally platonic, perhaps even familial---simply a product of the urge to treat Lee like glass like everyone does so often, but still. Still. He's a masochist, sometimes, and no matter how many times the hope in his heart gets shot and dies, it always reignites in a thumping, fiery blaze.
Jack scowls. "Please don't call him my daddy. That's fucking weird."
"Well, he is daddy material," Lee muses, only to be met with a disgusted glare that makes him chuckle.
"That's my father, Lee," Jack mutters, slapping Lee's arm lightly. "Firstly, he's thirty years older than you. Secondly, he's married with three kids. Thirdly, did I mention that he's my dad, and therefore this conversation is just extremely weird?"
Lee tosses his head back and laughs, feeling his hair swish against his ears gently. It tickles. "Don't worry, Pref. I'm not going to put the moves on your dad. All I'm going to do is ask him for your hand in marriage."
"Fuck you," Jack splutters, grasping at straws for words to say that won't send Lee's dirty mind sprawling straight into the gutter yet again. (Lee's head pretty much lives in the gutter, nowadays. He can't help it. Jack has that effect on him.) "I'm supposed to be mad."
