Want To
“Lash?” I called, banging on the front door. “Lash?!”
I knew my friend was home, I’d called him a couple hours ago, and he’d said to come over at seven, so we could hang out and eat pizza and watch tv. Now, I know, we’re teenaged boys, maybe he got his time or date wrong, or something, or maybe he’d gone out to get something, but if there’s one thing I have learned about Lash over all these years, it’s that he’s got a thing for punctuality and keeping your word. That’s why I tend to show up ten minutes early for anything these days - he’s rubbed off on me.
Besides, it was just bizarre that his parents weren’t answering, either.
So I banged a few more times, and when I still didn’t get an answer, I opened the door, and let myself in. If Lash had gone out for something, I’d just wait for him upstairs in his room. That in mind, I headed upstairs (and I couldn’t resist moving a little faster than normal people) and opened Lash’s door.
To be met with a disaster zone.
It was a mess. Clothes were thrown everywhere, papers and books strewn across the floor, even Lash’s computer had been knocked off the desk and now sat smoking in the corner. “Wha...” I started, then nearly jumped when I heard something in the corner.
Lash, looking a million times smaller and frailer than ever, was curled up in the corner, knees tugged up to his chest, hands fisted in his hair. His face and eyes were red and blood shot, his nose runny and possibly bloody, his cheeks soaked. His shirt was ripped in many places, and one of those blood shot eyes was blackening and swelling.
“Lash!” I yelled, running at top speed to my best friend’s side. “What the hell happened?!”
He broke down, even further than he apparently already had. I was kneeling beside him one instant, the next I had an armfull of sobbing, shaking, shivering Lash, who clung to my shirt and begged for me to keep him safe.
Now, I’ll admit that I’m not much of a hero. I’m fast, sure, but I’m not strong, or anything. But in that moment, I knew that not only could I be strong, I had to be strong. There was no way I was going to abandon Lash, not now, not anytime. “What happened?” I asked again, softly.
“I told dad you were coming over,” Lash hiccuped. “He was drunk, but I thought he was okay, still. Then he... he started saying I shouldn’t have my faggot friends over.” The slight hero shivered, curling into my body warmth. “I tried to defend you, Speed, I really did, I mean, I don’t know how he even found out you were bi anyway, but then.... then he started to get mad, and I ran upstairs, but.... but he was really mad, and...” he sniffled, closing his eyes. “He was really, really mad, Speed...”
I barely stopped myself from a screaming tirade about the idiot. Lash’s own father had done this?! His father?! For fuck’s sake, what kind of man could do that?
I cradled Lash close to me, running my hands slowly up and down his shaking back, then said softly, “You’re moving out, Lash.”
“What?” Lash blinked up at me. “No I’m not, dad will...”
“Screw your dad!” I snapped, wincing as Lash flinched. “I mean... don’t worry about him, Lash. You’re going to come move in with me.”
“You don’t have a guest room,” Lash pointed out, softly.
“So?” I growled. “You’ll stay in my room.”
“In your bed?” Lash whispered, curling up just a little closer.
I hesitated, then answered, “If you want to, sure.”
Lash smiled slightly. “I do. Want to, that is.”
I squeezed him gently. “I’m glad, Lash. I really... I really am.”
Go back to Sky High.