"Dad - please don't do this," I cried, tears mixing with the sweat on my face. He's never done this to me. What's happening?
My father stood, towering before me, clutching a knife in his right hand; I knew what he was going to do.
"You deserve this," he hissed, advancing towards me.
I let out a sob and stumbled backwards, only to find myself cornered in a crevice. A fist knocked me off my feet and I could taste a coppery liquid in my mouth - blood.
My hands wrapped around my body in a feeble attempt to protect myself from my father's abuse. "Dad," I sobbed, "You said you loved me!"
He stopped kicking my side and spat at me. "How could I love a faggot?!"
His words stung more than his actions and I could feel myself become numb as he pulled me up by my hair.
"Say it - say that you're sorry for being a faggot!" he commanded, pushing my face into the wall.
I didn't have much choice. My body hurt and I just wanted him to stop. "I - I'm sorry for being a f-faggot."
"Good boy," he whispered sickeningly, pushing the knife's sharp end to my throat.
I screamed as pain bloomed at my throat --
"Jamie, wake up!" a familiar voice shouted.
I blinked my eyes open to be greeted by Alexander, holding my shoulders - topless and disheveled, concern written on his features.
"A - Alex?"
My throat was sore. I was still crying.
"You had a nightmare," Alex explained, laying me down on the bed and breathing a sigh of relief. "Are you okay now?"
I nodded at him hesitantly, burying myself in the blankets. I wiped the tears away on my face. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, as if he was trying to decide something.
"Is it okay if I leave?" he asked suddenly, covering a yawn with his hand. "I'm going to head back to bed."
"O-okay," I whispered, looking at him expectantly.
He turned to go and I suddenly felt fear rush through me. Before I knew it, I reached out and caught his wrist in an iron grip.
His quizzical eyes turned towards me, with his eyebrow raised in an unspoken question and I felt the need to explain myself.
"Could you - um - stay with me?"
I blushed.
I was thankful he didn't ask any questions. He just crawled into bed and I felt his warmth beside me.
One of his arms circled my waist - I think it was a habit of his. He was probably tired. I didn't protest to it; it was a comforting gesture and I found myself snuggling into his chest, breathing in his sandalwood scent.
~*~
I woke up pressed into a pillow.
Or at least what I thought was a pillow.
When I opened my eyes I was greeted by the sight of a sculpted chest. Arms were wrapped around me, with a hand gently petting the back of my head.
It was Alexander.
I remembered last night - the nightmare and how I asked him to stay with me.
And he did. All night.
