The Paths We Take [boyxboy]

The Paths We Take {12}

                My eyes were closed and my head was tilted back, the sunlight warming me. The table pressed uncomfortably against my back, but I tried to ignore it.

                I heard footsteps and kept my body relaxed, listening hard as they got closer. When they stepped down lightly next to the table, I shoved myself to the left, rolling out of the way just as something made contact with the table where my body had been.

                "You're getting faster."

                I opened my eyes and rolled back over, looking up at Aaron. His fist was where my chest had been.

                I sat up, pushing my hair out of my face. "I have to be to keep up with you."

                Aaron seated himself next to me on top of the table, reaching over and stealing a bite of my lunch. I stretched and cracked my back, getting myself comfortable next to Aaron.

                It had been a month of us falling into a routine. We'd sneak out together at night, pool hopping in strangers' backyards. The nights usually ended with us making out, Aaron keeping good on his promise of making my collar bone a sensitive spot.

                Aaron also dropped his façade piece by tiny piece around me as the time went on. He kept it up strong around others, but when it was just us alone, I got to see more glimpses of the real Aaron.

                The real Aaron was more terrifying than anyone could ever imagine.

                "Tonight?" I asked, glancing at him.

                "I don't feel like it," he said, stretching out on the table.

                He would say that sometimes, but we usually ended up going out anyways. I watched as a butterfly floated down, landing on Aaron's arm.

                "Looks like you made a friend," I said.

                Aaron eyed the butterfly as it crawled up his arm and rested near his elbow. He reached out and plucked it by the wings with his free hand, sitting up.

                "The way you look at me pisses me off," he said. "You should really stop having so much faith in people."

                He met my eyes and I realized what he was going to do as soon as he brought his other hand to the butterfly's wing. I forced my composure to stay firmly in place as Aaron tore off the butterfly's right wing, dropping it to the table.

                He dangled the maimed creature in the air, eyeing it with disinterest. "It's useless now."

                "If you didn't want it to be useless, you shouldn't have ripped its wing off," I said, my voice steady.

                Aaron tossed the butterfly away from himself. "Some things are better broken. Easier to have your way with them."

                "You can't break something and then complain that it's useless," I said.

                "Actually, I can do whatever I want," Aaron said. "You can do anything when you stop caring about the consequences."

                I pointed to myself. "Mama's boy, remember? I'll always care about the consequences."

                "I'll fix that," he assured, flicking the wing off the table.

                "You can try," I said. "But I have a moral code that says if it'll make my mom upset, I won't do it."