Blurred Lines [BxB] COMPLETED

0.07

0.07 - Sunday 1:23 a.m.

Maverick Bale

My phone starts ringing from my bedroom just as I get out of the shower. I wrap a towel around my waist while walking to my room and then I pick it off my desk, not checking the caller ID.
"Hello?"

"I'm outside." It's Rhys. My body goes still, and the hand holding my towel tightens.

"You just love showing up at my house late at night, don't you?"

"I used to do it all the time. Why does it bother you now?" Rhys counters. My cheeks burn, and I'm thankful he's not in the room right now.

"What do you want?" I ask. Rhys sighs, and my speaker crackles.

"Please, just let me in," Rhys says. I pull the phone away and stare at the screen. His name flashes at me. I can hear him asking if I'm there, so I hang up and walk to the window. The porch lights have been out for weeks, but I'm still able to make out Rhys's silhouette sitting on the steps, back hunched defeatedly.

Sighing, I find some boxers in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I take my time walking down the stairs, trying to ignore the sharp pain in my lungs.

My knuckles whiten as I grip the door handle and swing the door open. Rhys scrambles up, turning wildly.

"Hey," I say, my hand still latched onto the door handle. Rhys stares at me, eyes widened. He clears his throat, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Hey," he replies quietly, cheeks flushed.

"Want some Oreos?" I suggest. Rhys's lips quirk into a crooked smile.

"Only if we get to play FIFA," Rhys says. With a roll of my eyes, we walk back to the kitchen and I open the closest cabinet, swiping the last box of Oreos from the bottom shelf.

We don't speak as I set up the TV and Rhys settles on the couch. I grab the remote controls and throw one back at Rhys, who smoothly catches the flying object midair.

The TV hums to life, the screen flickering then glowing bright white. Suddenly a voice filters loudly out of the speakers.

"...a massive showing for the Pride Parade earlier today in Los Angeles..." CNN news anchor Anderson Cooper says smoothly, and an image of the colorful crowds waving rainbow flags appears on the screen.

My limbs freeze. I want to change the channel but my fingers can't move, and my heart pounds against my chest, rushing blood up to my cheeks. The remote is snatched out of my hands, and the TV is turned off.

"Rhys—?"

"Mav." I turn and Rhys stands in front of me. His forehead creases in concern, but his eyes harden. He grabs my wrist, and for a split second my mind spins dizzily, but he's just trying to take the package of Oreos from my grip that's so tight the plastic has ripped.

I let my fingers relax and he takes the Oreos, dropping them onto the couch. Rhys takes a deep breath.

"What's going on?" Rhys asks.

"What are you talking about?" My face burns and I look down at the carpet.

"The party. Lauren said you left right when—" Rhys cuts off, and he tugs his fingers frustratedly through his hair. "Why?" he asks, desperately, and I realize he's as lost as I am.

"Nothing. No reason," I say, shaking my head.

"Bullshit," Rhys snaps.

"I don't know, okay?" I say, and I have the sudden urge to grab Rhys by the shoulders. "I was just pissed off because Beverly's a bitch and Lauren's in love with me or some shit, and I just couldn't stay there listening to Alex call me a fag."

Rhys takes a step back, stunned. I drag a hand down my face, closing my eyes so I don't see his reaction.

"I didn't know Alex..." Rhys says quietly, trailing off.

"Maybe because you were off fucking around with Beverly," I say harshly, and Rhys's eyes widen. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. I'm just tired." We both know that's not true.

"I'm gonna go," Rhys says. He turns and starts to leave.

"No, dude, don't." I walk after him. Rhys stops, turning around with crossed arms and a scowl. "Come on. You didn't even eat any Oreos."

"You're being an asshole," Rhys points out, but I can tell he has given in.

"Nothing Oreos can't fix."

"True," Rhys says, laughing.

We walk back to the couch and the forgotten Oreos, and there's an unspoken agreement not to talk about the party, or anything related to it.

"So, who are you playing this Friday?" Rhys asks, his voice muffled by a mouthful of Oreos.

"Vista," I say after I finish chewing. "They suck so we should crush them. Gonna come watch?"

"No, I need to hang out with Beverly. We had a...disagreement," Rhys says, averting his eyes.

"Oh," I say, grabbing an Oreo and popping it into my mouth quickly to avoid commenting further.

"You don't want to know," Rhys says, shaking his head.

"I'm sure." There's an unbearable silence only broken by the sound of Oreos crunched between teeth. Rhys clears his throat.

"I'm so fucking exhausted," Rhys says.

"Same. Lauren's shit wiped me out." I rub my forehead, trying to relieve the tension building up in my head.

I reach for another Oreo, but my fingers scrape the empty, plastic ridges at the bottom.

"That was fast," I say. Rhys laughs.

"Yeah because you ate almost all of them," he says, a small smile passing over his lips.

"That's such a lie. Dude, you were eating like two at a time," I say, picking up the empty box and throwing it at him. Rhys slaps it away and the light plastic falls to the ground, scattering crumbs between threads of carpet.

My eyelids droop and my head pounds every time I try to lift them up. Rhys lies back against the cushions, lifting the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

"Bro I'm gonna have to crash here tonight," Rhys mumbles. I nod but I think he's already asleep, mouth parted and eyes shut.

The weight of my eyelids becomes too heavy, and between one thought and the next consciousness slips away, leaving me in darkness.