LOGINI spent all my life hating him, being told stories of how perfect he is, but then his team flopped during the playoffs, one got injured, they needed replacement, and I happened to be the only one who could save it "You are good at hockey, everyone says that, so please don't let my dream be crushed" He knelt down, eyes on me, the same one popular jock guy was begging on his feet, he was dancing at my fingers, and I had all the control, but then I do something stupid, and let my hidden desires rule over me "Pretty boy, my dick is down there, not on my face" His eyes widened, and my lips twisted
View MoreSky POVI should have burned that diary.That thought had crossed my mind a thousand times since the first night I wrote about him.The professor.My mind had been overflowing.The tension was too much not to documentI told myself it felt wrong not to acknowledge this feelings since I couldn’t tell anyone about itOf course I had friends, but not friends friends that you could really tell things to, so it was more that I was alone with this feeling too good to be true, so of course I wrote.About his voice.About the way he spoke like everything had already happened before and he was just waiting for the world to catch up.About the way he didn’t look at me like I was fragile.About the way my chest felt lighter every time he spoke in class How… oh lord I can’t breatheI wrote about stupid things.Dangerous things.And now they were all staring back at me from the giant screen at the front of the lecture hall.Every single word.Huge, and impossible to ignore.“Why does he look at m
SKYThe moonlight caught the smoke as it curled around him like a halo of bad decisions.I wiped my face quickly.He turned slightly.“You okay?” he asked.His voice was low, smooth and calm, he was just too cool and embrassingly, I almost laughedIt’s funny how we finally have the conversation I had rehearsed in my head a million times when am looking like complete shit.“Yeah,” I lied.He took another drag.“You don’t sound okay.”I stood up.“I’m fine.”This time it came out a bit harsh. I didn’t wanted to, but couldn’t help it either. It wasn’t that he was the problem or anything, no my heart was doing it’s role by beating so fastly, it was more of I hated myself, that I started to walk past him.“If you leave without clearing your head,” he said evenly, “you might regret it.”I froze.Something about the way he said it.Not controlling.Not mocking.Just… certain.I turned back, but he was already close to meI made a stupid noise, I couldn’t help itUp close, he was… devastati
HUNTERI learned about death the first time when I was seven.It smelled like hospital disinfectant and burnt toast from the vending machine downstairs. It sounded like whispered apologies and the flat line of a monitor that didn’t care about my age.I learned that day that when adults say “be strong,” what they really mean is “don’t fall apart because we already have.”So when my phone rang in the middle of my dorm room and I heard Hunter’s voice break on the other end—I knew.I knew before he said the words.I knew because silence always comes first.“Sky,” he whispered.He never whispered my name. He always said it like he was proud of it. Like he chose it. Like he chose me.“Dad?” I asked.There was a sound on the other end. Not crying. Not breathing. Something worse. Something hollow.“There’s been an accident.”The world narrowed.I was standing by my desk. Ace was across the room pretending not to listen. I remember the way his pen stopped moving mid-sentence.“Where’s Papa?”
HUNTER And I waited, seconds hours minutes, waiting for him to open that door Hating myself with evey passing minute, the guilt was too much to carry, cause even I wouldn’t forgive myself, I was angry at him for not hitting me, slapping the fuck out of me, hating my existence, I hate him but hated me more Then the phone rang…I don’t understand the sentence the first time they say it.I nod while they’re talking, because that’s what people do when someone is talking to them. I even say “okay” at one point. I think I ask them to repeat themselves, not because I didn’t hear them, but because the words don’t arrange themselves into meaning.Jeremy.Accident.Rain.Impact.Those words float around the room like dust motes. None of them touch me yet.My first thought is stupid. So stupid I want to vomit later when I remember it.He’s going to be mad I didn’t answer my phone earlier.That’s genuinely what my brain gives me.I’m still holding my phone when the call ends. My thumb is hove






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