the book of fluff (that usually isn't)

eighteenth birthday

happy (late) thanksgiving to those who celebrate it :)

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trigger warning: rape and self-harm

"Mom, I don't want a family party," Mitch groaned. "You and I both know it's for you more than it's for me. I don't even know half of the guest list because they're all your friends!"

"Now, now, Mitch, your eighteenth birthday is a monumental occasion!" Nel frowned at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's arguably the most important birthday of your life. You'll find out who your soulmate is! Don't you want to celebrate that with your family?"

"Isn't celebrating with you, Dad, and Jessa enough?"

"No. Your grandma wants to see you, and so do your uncles. It's been ages."

Mitch huffed. "Fine. But it'll be the day before my actual birthday, okay? You know I had plans with Scott already."

"Deal."

+++

On the day before Mitch's birthday, Mitch showered and got ready before his parents kicked him out of the house so they could set up for the party. He savored his time with his friends, knowing it would be a long night.

The party started out fine. Despite his complaints to his mother during the days leading up to the party, it was nice seeing his cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents. She was right, it had been a while.

However, as the night came to a close, the adults got drunker and drunker. He slipped away to the bathroom for a breather, splashing his face with water and catching his breath from the Just Dance battle he and his cousins had just finished. He couldn't help but want people to leave so he could go to sleep and wake up on his birthday; he'd waited eighteen long years to find out whom he was meant to spend the rest of his life with, and he didn't want to wait much longer.

Mitch jumped when he heard someone bust the door open and whirled to see the culprit, clutching his chest. He got a bit scared at the sight of a very drunk John, a friend of his dad's that had always creeped him out a little. "What are you doing? I'm using this bathroom." He laughed nervously and backed up as John kicked the door closed and advanced towards him. "What are you doing?" he repeated. "You're dr—"

He cut off with a yelp when John shoved him into the wall. "Hey! What was that for?"

"I've wanted to do this for so long," John slurred, beginning to undo his own belt. "You've always been so sexy, and now you're finally legal."

Mitch's eyes widened and his heart began to race when he realized what was happening. He tried to run, but John grabbed him and pinned him down, roughly pulling down his pants. Tears filled his eyes and he opened his mouth to scream, but his mouth was caught in a rough kiss. He wanted to gag at the taste of alcohol on John's breath.

John didn't bother to prep Mitch before he shoved his cock inside of him. Mitch's scream was smothered by John's tongue down his throat.

The blinding pain seemed to last for hours. When John finally slammed the door closed, Mitch was left sobbing in a heap of John's come and his own tears. He scrambled to rid himself of his ruined jeans and shirt before he stepped in the shower, feeling disgusted with himself.

He sat under the spray long after it turned cold, scratching at his stomach and thighs, a steady stream of tears flowing down his cheeks.

When he could will himself to move again, he dried off and reluctantly pulled on the clothes he had on before so he could leave the bathroom. Immediately, he was met with his mother, who looked both startled and concerned at the sight of him. "Mitchy, honey, you were in the bathroom for a long time. Are you feeling alright?"