Word Count: 2071
In the morning, Lovely withdrew another two-thousand dollars out of his account just to be safe.
Later that evening, none of his cards worked.
Claude hadn't even called again to give him another chance.
At first, Lovely tried to hold out. He could make over three-thousand dollars last for a while if he had to. Ilian's rent was affordable and his bills weren't so bad. If Ilian could manage on his own, so could Lovely.
Then the fear, and the loneliness, and the misery struck, and he held his phone in shaking hands.
He didn't call Claude.
He called his mother.
“Lovely!” her voice was breathless when she answered. It was late in France, but she sounded wide awake.
“Mom,” he said. His voice trembled. His throat felt tight and he was pissed off that there were tears in his eyes.
“Oh, Lovely, where are you? You've had me worried sick!”
“I'm... out,” was all he could say.
“At your boyfriend's place?”
He almost snapped back at her that Ilian wasn't his boyfriend. He wondered if anyone would even believe him if he denied it, considering how far the game had gone already. He hated the lie. It made him feel sick. But he was already in such a deep hole he didn't know how to climb back out of it.
“Yeah,” he said.
His mother grew very quiet. She sighed sadly and said, “I've already heard about it from Dorian but now I want to hear about it from you. Who is this boy you're acting so rashly over?”
“I don't know what you want me to say.”
“You can start by telling me his name.”
“Ilian,” Lovely said. He swallowed thickly.
“How old is he?”
“My age.”
“And he lives on his own?”
“He's emancipated,” Lovely explained.
“Does he still go to school?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And he has a job?”
“Yes.”
“How did you meet him?”
“At a recital,” Lovely said. “He plays the piano too.”
“Where are his parents?”
“They died eight years ago.”
“And he has no other family?”
“No. His older brother died a year and a half ago.”
His mother sighed as if this news disappointed her. Lovely wondered if she felt any sort of sympathy. Once upon a time, he hadn't. Ilian's life was just another set of shitty circumstances in an already shitty world. Only now did he realize how lonely it was.
It was bad enough being away from the safety of his family. He didn't want to imagine what it would feel like if they were all dead and he had no one to rely on and nowhere else to go.
“He doesn't treat you well,” his mother said.
“Mom, please, it isn't like that.”
“Then how is it you keep getting hurt? And don't say you bumped into something. That doesn't help the situation at all. It just makes things look worse when you make excuses.”
Lovely didn't know how to answer her. For a while he just gnashed his teeth together and let the conversation fall to silence.
Eventually he said, “You believe Dorian over me?”
“You ran away, Lovey Dove. What are we supposed to think?”
“You could trust me.”
“I don't remember ever saying I didn't trust you,” she said. “But I'm worried about you. You're getting in way over your head.”
Lovely stifled a tearful laugh. She had no idea.
“Do you love him?” she suddenly asked.
Lovely recoiled. He almost dropped the phone. He had to remind himself that he was in the midst of a lie. She wouldn't have asked that question otherwise.
“Mom, please.”
“That's not an answer.”
“I can't answer that question.”
“Why not?”
“I just can't.”
“Don't you know?”
“Mom, please, I don't want to talk about it.”
She sighed again. “I hope you realize that makes everything sound so much worse.”
“I'm only sixteen,” he tried to explain.
He realized it was the wrong thing to say as soon as he said it.
“Exactly,” his mother agreed. “You're only sixteen. You're not old enough to be making these sorts of decisions. There's too much in life you'd be sacrificing. No boy is worth that at sixteen.”
“This isn't about Ilian,” Lovely insisted.
“Then what is it about, Lovey Dove?”
He could tell she didn't believe him. He could say it a hundred times and it probably wouldn't make a difference. His mother and his brothers had already made up their minds about the situation.
In their defense, Lovely wasn't making it any easier for himself by lying.
“Claude cut me off,” Lovely complained. He figured changing the subject was the best thing for him at the moment.
His mother was silent at first. He could tell she was trying to weigh her words carefully.
“He gave you a warning,” she said.
“You're siding with him?”
“I'm not siding with anyone. You have no business being out on your own.”
“And cutting me off is supposed to help?”
“Claude doesn't want you squandering your money on someone who doesn't treat you the way you should be treated. You'll regret it one ********, Mom, you don't even know anything about the situation!”
“Language,” she warned him.
He didn't apologize.
“I want you to come back to France,” she said.
“No.”
“You've gotten into nothing but trouble since moving to Destiny City. I don't see how you can even tolerate that place.”
“No, Mom,” he said again.
“Lovely...”
“I can't just leave.”
He wanted to. He wanted to go back to his old life where he didn't have to worry about Ilian or the Negaverse or some stupid war he didn't even care about in the first place. He wanted to go back to his comfortable home and put all of this s**t behind him. He wanted to go back to being oblivious about things like death and poverty and pain.
But he couldn't. He was already in too deep. The Negaverse would just drag him back. He no longer had a choice in the matter. He hadn't had a choice since being corrupted, and even then he'd only done it because it seemed like it was either that or death. It wasn't because he wanted to. It was never because he wanted to.
It was all Ilian's fault. Dorian and their mother were right. His life was troubled only because he'd gotten involved with the Jones brothers, because Ilian's brother had to go and die and Ilian felt like getting revenge on ever single Senshi, whether they were responsible for the death or not. It was all of a big pile of s**t Lovely didn't care to wade through, except he was stuck with it now. His life wasn't his own anymore. He wondered if it had ever been in the first place.
He hated Ilian. He hated Ilian for dragging him into this. He hated him for being an idiot. He hated him for disappearing. He hated Ilian for making him feel responsible for someone other than himself. He hated Ilian for this stupid lie he was playing.
Lovely wanted to beat the s**t out of him, but he couldn't even do that.
“Come back to France, Lovely,” his mother said again.
“I can't.”
“Why not?”
“I just can't.”
“You can't throw your life away for some boy.”
That was exactly what he was doing, he realized. Throwing his life away. Would Ilian even give a damn about that?
“If you'd only told me about this from the beginning, I could have helped you,” his mother said.
“How? By telling me not to date him? Dorian's already done that.”
“Dorian is doing his best to look out for you.”
“I can date whoever I want.”
The more Lovely played along, the more his hate grew. Ilian didn't even know the kind of s**t he was going through for him. The longer he kept this up, the less likely it was that people would believe him when he went back to denying it.
He'd ******** up and he didn't know how to turn back from it.
“I don't understand why this boy is so important to ********, cut me some slack, Mom! He's missing! Don't you think I'm upset enough as it is? None of you even care that he's gone!”
She didn't warn him about his language again.
“Of course we care,” she said.
“Then act like it!”
She sighed. “I'm sorry, Lovely. It's just that this is all so... sudden.”
“Just come out and say what I know you want to say. You already said it in your message.”
“Fine. You never told me you were gay.”
“Thanks for labeling me, Mom.”
“Well, aren't you?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
She seemed to think on this for a moment. Luckily, she didn't pursue the topic. Unfortunately, the next subject she chose was even worse.
“Are you having sex?”
Lovely sputtered and felt his face go red. His stomach dropped. For a second, he couldn't ********, Mom, that's gross!”
“You're dating someone. These things happen at your age nowadays.”
“Oh, don't pretend like you were so innocent when you were sixteen.”
“That just serves to further prove my point.”
Lovely gnashed his teeth together again and dragged his free hand down his face.
“I'm not going to talk to you about my sex life,” he said.
“I'm your mother,” she countered.
“Exactly.”
“I hope you're being careful. I don't want you catching something.”
“Will you just... I said I'm not going to talk to you about it!”
“Make sure you always use a condom.”
“Mom!” he shouted.
“What?”
“Ilian is missing!”
“I know that,” she said.
“Then why are you talking to me about things that don't even factor into the situation right now?”
“You haven't told me anything about your life since moving to Destiny City, Lovely. I'm just concerned.”
“You're concerned about the wrong thing!”
“You're my son.”
“So you don't feel any sympathy at all?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “I'm not heartless.”
“Then act like it!”
He heard her release another sigh.
He wanted this conversation to be over. He was tired and regretted calling. So far, it hadn't helped him feel better at all. If anything, he felt more isolated than before. Neither his mother nor his brothers were even trying to understand. They made their assumptions and they stuck to it, just like everyone else.
Finally, his mother said, “I'll talk to Claude. But don't get your hopes up.”
“Okay, fine, whatever. Bye, Mom.”
“I love you, Lovey Dove.”
Lovely didn't return the sentiment. After another “Bye, Mom,” he took the phone from his ear and hung up.
He let his phone drop onto the coffee table with a clatter. He was on the floor with his knees brought up to his chest and the couch against his back. The window was still broken. He could hear everything that went on outside. The tarp didn't do anything to block out the noise.
He was afraid that someone was going to break in. He didn't know how Ilian could live on this side of town with any sort of confidence. The people were untrustworthy. They were dirty. They lived sad, pathetic lives. He was too good for this. Yet here he sat, alone, without any intention of leaving.
Eventually he picked himself up off the floor, took his phone, and grabbed the comforter he'd taken from Ilian's bed the night before. He dragged it with him into Ilian's bedroom, where he shut and locked the door. He climbed onto the bed and wrapped the comforter around himself for warmth. The bed was small, but more comfortable than the couch.
Lovely pressed his face into Ilian's pillow and cried quietly.
He wanted life to go back to normal, but he didn't know how to fix it.
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