Peaches 'N Cream

12. Yours

IT'S SAID THAT NEVER REALLY STOP LOVING YOUR FIRST, BUT FOR THEM, IT RAN MUCH DEEPER THAN THAT. Jericho and Ezekiel were almost each other's first everything as young as they were; best friend, kiss, crush, fight, heartbreak, you name it.

"I know you, Ezekiel," Jericho spoke softly, glare tearing into him. "You're a control freak, and when you're not in charge your world crumbles. Then, you get angry, but you know, I never really minded because I could tolerate it when you hurt me."

The brown-haired boy looked directly at him, eyes level, and filled with disgust. If he wasn't going to finish this, he would.

"I know you liked seeing me cry, I could hear it in your voice you freak. I know you hate when I don't listen, but you just can't stand it when I talk back, can you?"

He poked a finger into his chest.

"I bet you're just fucking itching to put your hands on me again." Another poke "I know you miss it, isn't that why you're here?" And then another "So you can kick your dog again? Fuck you."

He shoved him when Ezekiel laughed at him, "Jericho..." and ran a hand down his face, but they were like the sun and moon. When they came back together, Jericho grabbed Zeke's wrist in a bruising grip and wrapped his fingers around the column of his throat.

"Do it if you're really 'bout it. Check me right now or I swear to God, I'll knock you the fuck out."

Ezekiel didn't even hesitate and tightened his grip. Thumb and forefinger pressed violently against his carotid arteries.

"Knock me the fuck out, huh. You'd enjoy that wouldn't you? Still pinning this all on me, though? You never pissed me off on purpose?"

At the same time, he squeezed harder and yanked him forward like a dog on a leash.

"Yeah... take some f-fucking responsibility."

He couldn't breathe and it was the best thing in the world. Jericho's hands struggled for purchase on the front of his shirt, wrinkling up the soft fabric when he found it.

"I'm proud of you. You've got me all figured out."

He hissed near his ear, and Jericho's watched the man's gaze slide across his face. The brown-haired boy leered at him, he was probably seconds away from fainting, but he needed this.

"Harder. Or you scared of hurting me?"

Wheezing, but it cut straight through the silence. Jericho was lightheaded, lids almost fluttering shut, but he never broke eye contact. Not even when the raven-haired man shook his head and shoved him away, his body hit the wall near his door. Jericho coughed and rubbed his sore neck while trying to take in as much oxygen as possible.

He could still feel the ghost of a hand around his throat. Ezekiel wasn't looking any better than he was. His neatly gelled back hair was unruly now, inky black stands sticking up in every direction from running his fingers through it. The only amends for his wrinkled shirt at this point would be ironing it.

When their eyes met again, his were glassy, and his face streaked with tears. Jericho tilted his head upwards, and with a crazed smirk, he opened his mouth wide and made a biting motion, clicking his teeth together.

Laughing hysterically when the older man growled at him. He stalked over, and was almost close enough to put his hands on him again. However, the very audible thud they made earlier echoing throughout the walls of the house would cut their makeshift therapy session short because, in no time, someone was knocking on the door.

"Everything okay in there?"

Ezekiel stood silently in front of him; the shadows in his room making the body in front of him seem larger than it was. He ran a hand down his face and groaned, closing his eyes for a moment before shouting 'one second.'