one of the boys » david dobrik au

thirty nine

"Can we talk?" I asked David as I plopped into his bed, and he looked over to me with a smile. "About... yesterday?"

"Um... I'd rather not get into the details," he immediately tensed up, but when my hand gently squeezed his, his shoulders went a little more slack. "What... what did you want to talk about?"

"You stayed with her until you were 18?" I asked, and he shook his head.

"No. No, God, no," he huffed. "Um, I moved in with her when I was, like, eleven, I think? And I moved out when I was sixteen."

"Where'd you go?" I asked.

"My friend Ilya's house. He told his parents she kicked me out, and she never tried to come after me. I told her I'd tell if she did," he explained. "He knew. He's the only one who ever knew. Him and you."

"You were close?" I raised my eyebrows, and David nodded.

"Yeah. He was my best friend. He kept my secret from everyone."

"Why didn't you tell?" it was the question that had been weighing on my mind since yesterday. I was no stranger to sexual harassment; growing up in the foster system made you a target, but I always told. No one ever did anything, but I told.

"Because that would make me look like a fucking freak," he seemed to get a little angry, and I flinched. He noticed. In a much softer voice, he added, "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Milla. It was high school, you know? I would've been made fun of until I graduated. Plus, there was no real proof. It was just a lot easier not to."

I asked my final question, "Why haven't you told me about Ilya?"

"I try not to think about him," he answered honestly. "He reminds me of the worst time of my life. He was my best friend, but... it still bothers me to see him. Reminds me of everything I hate about myself."

"It wasn't your fault," I reminded him, gently running my fingers through his hair. That move always calmed him down.

"Doesn't feel like that."

"I know, baby," I sighed, pulling him into my chest. "But it wasn't. She's a fucking psycho. I love you."

"I love you."

"I love you," I repeated. "I'm sorry about everything."

"It's not your fault either," he laughed. "I'm glad you're here. I never thought I'd have a girlfriend after that."

"Why not?" I frowned, only because he couldn't see my face. "No one would ever judge you for that."

"When I got to college, I kind of went off the deep end," he started his story. "With girls, I mean. I read you can be hypersexual after abuse. I think it felt wrong that she was... the first one, so I wanted to get rid of it. I don't know. I promise I wasn't just a slut."

"I didn't think you were a slut," I said.

"Thank you. I always thought I'd just keep doing that, but then I met Nat and we became friends and she seemed like the easiest option. The safest option. And then you moved in. And there was nothing I wanted more than to be your boyfriend."

"That's sweet," I smiled to myself. "You're sweet. I seriously love you, you know."

He looked up at me, a soft smile on his face. "You learn everything you needed to know?"

"Yes," I leaned down to kiss him. "I'll never bring it up again."

"I love you."

"I know, pretty," I swiped my thumb over his cheek. "You wanna watch something or take a nap?"