Chapter Text
“C’mon, E. What does he care? It’s gonna be the party of the year,” A grinning sandy-haired Christian Nichols nudged Erik as they sat side by side finishing up their lunches in Princeton’s dining hall.
“You know how he is,” Erik played with the sleeves of his sweater. “He’s weird about stuff like this. Besides, I thought we weren’t that into, y’know, parties.”
“Did you not hear me say, ‘party of the year’? The connections we make there are gonna set us up for our future careers, man. You have to go to at least one, and I’m telling you, this is the one. Just tell him you have a big project you have to work on with me at the library.”
“I can’t lie to him, Chris. He’s got ways of knowing. He just does. Besides, you’re not even in any of my classes this semester.”
“Yeah, well, is he your brother or your keeper? You’re your own man or aren’tcha?”
“I’m…my own man,” Erik finally conceded, unable to keep the little smile off his face. Chris had a way of getting to him, breaking down the last of his barriers.
“Then screw him, let’s do it. Next Saturday.” He clapped, grinning even wider, in a way that highlighted his dimples.
Erik couldn’t help it; he started giggling.
“What’s so funny?” His friend smirked, taking a bite of his tater tots.
“I’m just picturing his reaction if he heard you say that.”
Strict parents. That was the excuse for why Lyle was the way he was, his overprotectiveness, his obsessiveness. Erik needed it, needed it like air, thrived on it, lived on it. But not all of his few friends (the ones who’d been vetted by Lyle) understood, Chris in particular.
“Tell him tonight, then. See ya around,” Chris hugged him, licking his lips as if he wanted to do more, before bounding off to his next class.
A little over two years had passed since the night the brothers had left. Eventually, Lyle did finally decide to go back to Princeton. They were always east coasters at heart and easily settled back into the seasons that made up the northeast, finding a nice apartment close enough to walk to campus. Lyle took extra classes and summer classes, finishing in record time. Erik had waited a year to enroll himself, studying theater and visual arts while he continued to do a little modeling on the side. Lyle found a 9-5 job in finance soon after graduating, and while it didn't offer them nearly as much disposable income as they'd grown used to, they were able to live comfortably.
The trouble, Lyle and Erik both found, was having to be separated for such a lengthy part of the day.
“I said no, Erik. That kid is bad news, he’s always trying to get you into something. I don’t like how he slinks around with that guilty fucking look on his face around me. Besides, you’ll get hurt there, there’s gonna be a lot of frat guys and it’s just going to be a lot of drinking and drugs and shit.” The look on Lyle’s face told Erik that it was final.
Normally, Erik didn’t argue, but today he felt a yearning and a strange bitterness he’d never felt before. Especially not towards his brother.
“You know what, you’re not mom and dad, you’re not them. I’m a sophomore now and I’ve never been to a college party, it’s sad!” Erik threw his hands up before the weight of his words hit him and he crossed his arms, doing his best not to pout, heart sinking at the hurt that appeared on his brother’s face before it vanished a second later, replaced by something ugly.
“How dare you compare me to them! You know I’m only trying, only trying to protect you. I know just what goes on at these parties, and I don’t want you involved.”
“I’m not a little boy anymore, Lyle. I don’t have to listen to everything you say. You’re not my keeper.”
“Who said I’m your keeper? Chris? I’ve told you I don’t want you —"
“You don’t tell me what to do!” Erik finally raised his voice, cutting him off, fists clenched, nails digging into his hand so hard he knew there would be crescent indentations.
“Fine, you know what, do what you want. You’re right, I don’t care, and if you’re such a big boy, you can start sleeping in your own bed from now on,” Lyle snapped.
“Sounds great to me. You’re the one who needs someone in the bed with you anyway,” Erik snapped back, swirling around before Lyle could see the tears form in his eyes, marching off to the empty room and loudly slamming the door so Lyle could hear. Really the room was for show, the only times he’d slept there in the last two years was whenever Chris stayed over, which had admittedly been happening more frequently now that Lyle had a more regular work schedule and he would never let him sleep at Chris’.
But overprotective big brother or not, Chris had ways of slipping into their apartment to hang out with Erik, much to Lyle’s disdain. If the boy tried anything, he’d wring his neck and Erik would never see him again.
Lyle bit his lip and winced upon hearing the door slam. He could just imagine his little brother choking down his tears, burying his face in his pillow. Erik felt. He always had. He also knew Erik would rebel eventually, it was inevitable. But he just couldn’t bear to let him slip through his fingers into the world, especially the world that was the Princeton party scene. Not his sweet, innocent, soft baby brother. Not yet. Not after all they’d been through in the past 2 years, not with the scars that had faded but were still very much present.
He would make it right, he would. They’d talk through it, they’d make up. They always did. That was as inevitable as the sun rise. As the hour got later, Lyle found himself hovering in front of Erik’s closed door. Finally biting the bullet, he turned the knob. Erik was fast asleep, arms tight around Mr. Floppy, the stuffed bunny he’d surprised him with five months ago after he’d aced a particularly tough calculus quiz. The skin on his bottom lip bitten raw, cheeks tear stained from all the crying he’d done. Lyle wanted nothing more than to take him in his arms in that moment, to smooth away the tears, to hold him tight.
But he knew it would be rejected.
He would wait until morning. The bed was cold that night and he felt emptier than he’d felt in forever.
He was woken up some hours later by the sound of screaming. Someone screaming his name. Erik. He leapt out of bed, wrenching the covers off him. He couldn’t get to Erik’s room fast enough, their rooms were right next to each other but it was as if the door to the hallway had just stretched 100 feet.
Erik hadn’t had a nightmare in months, especially not since he started sleeping with Lyle in his bed full time.
His heart broke at the sight of his brother caught in whatever hell he was going through, there but not really there, where all he could do was grip the sides of his face and repeat. He’s not here, he’s not here, he’s not here. And he’s never going to be.
At some point, Erik came to with a broken gasp. Lyle wrapped his arms tight around Erik, pulling him into his arms and rocking him gently while he continued to gasp for breath. He cradled him like he was all there was, his head tucked into his collarbone.
“He—it—” Erik sobbed, molding himself to his protector, burying himself in Lyle as hard as he could, as if he was about to disappear into thin air.
“Shhh, you don’t have to talk about it, baby,” Lyle whispered into his curly hair, clutching him just as tightly. Saying nothing and saying everything.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours before Lyle knew they had to move before his legs completely fell asleep.
“No,” Erik whined sleepily, fists clenching Lyle’s shirt.
“Oh baby. I’m just moving us,” Lyle squeezed him, moving Erik’s arms so they looped around his neck before carrying him into the adjacent bedroom—their bedroom, like a much smaller version of the child he currently was.
Erik refused to let go, so he slowly maneuvered them so he was lying down, Erik pressed tightly against his chest while he rubbed the last of the tears out of his eyes, replacing them with kisses.
“Oh, E. I’m so, so sorry.”
Erik only nuzzled further into his brother, and Lyle continued to hold him long after his breathing evened out and his hold went slack, all through the night.
Erik was shy when they both woke up the next morning, though he continued to nuzzle into Lyle’s side, not quite wanting to separate from the contact yet.
Lyle tilted his chin up and kissed him sweetly on the lips, grinning at the rosy blush that formed on Erik’s paler cheeks. Being away from the California sun had toned down Erik’s naturally fairer skin.
“I didn’t mean it,” Erik finally croaked, “I don’t know why I said you’re like them, you’re not you’re nothing like them, I know you’re just protective. I’m sorry.”
“I know. I’m sorry, too.” Lyle squeezed him even closer. “I didn’t mean to yell at you like that. I hate it when we fight like this.”
They were quiet for a few more minutes before Lyle cleared his throat.
“I want you to have a normal college experience, Erik. I do. There’s just some things..it’s easy to be surrounded by bad influences.”
Erik gasped playfully. “You don’t consider yourself one, do you?”
“Not to you,” he smiled, giving Erik a quick peck on the lips. “Go to the party. I didn’t think you were into parties, but if you really want to go, I’m not stopping you. You’re not a teenager anymore.”
“I’m not. It was Chris’ idea. But you mean it?”
“Yeah. Just be careful. Don’t take anything, please. Call me if anything goes wrong, the second you don’t feel good, or whatever and I’ll be there before you can blink.”
“Before that even, I’m sure,” Erik sassed.
The party was already packed by the time Erik and Chris arrived, beers and girls everyone, including many in bikinis, despite the 40-degree weather outside. The smell of sweat and marijuana lingered in the air, and Erik immediately swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat. Swallowed down the feeling of wanting to be back at the apartment, snuggled up with Lyle on the sofa watching some cheesy comedy.
“Hey, what’s you’re name?” one of the said-lightly-dressed girls asked, immediately snaking her arm through Erik’s and pulling him away from his friend.
“Uh..Erik,” was all Erik could say, nervously scratching the back of his neck.
“Awe, you’re sooo cute,” the girl said, as if she was talking about a chubby baby or a puppy.
“Thanks, I guess,” he said, trying to do his best to extricate himself from the tipsy girl who had plastered herself on him, looping her fingers through his belt loops.
“Hey, Erik! You’re Erik, right?” A big jock-looking guy with shaggy black hair and piercing blue eyes beelined for him, Chris sheepishly trailing him.
“Can you give us a minute, sweetheart?” The guy asked the girl, who huffed by finally let Erik go and disappeared into the crowd. Erik couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.
“You guys are new to the scene, I hear. First party and all. Well, I wanted to personally welcome you to the house. It’s great to meet you. Erik, right? I’m Scott.” He took Erik’s hand in his in a firm handshake before pressing a red cup into Erik’s hands. “Chris tells me you’re a little anxious. Drink a little, have fun!” He slapped Erik on the back a bit, making the young man cringe.
Maybe I am a little anxious, Erik thought before taking a sip. The vodka burned his insides and he felt himself grow a little warmer before he took another sip, sinking into himself, feeling the throbbing of music and laughter and loudness.
Chris seemed to make friends quickly and easily, his open extroverted nature and lack of pretensions what had drawn him to Erik in the first place, and soon they were surrounded by a small group of other guys—a Rick, a Johnny, a Derek, and a handful of other muscular guys who clearly came from money.
Erik had been given a few more drinks at that point, and was feeling a little less on edge. Rick was saying something in his direction but he didn’t hear it well over the noise of the party. He said it again, this time leaning into Erik’s space, into his ear, the sour smell of alcohol pouring off his lips.
“So I heard you do a little modeling, huh?” There was an ugly look on Rick’s face, a combination of disgust and teasing. The other guys had similar smirks and Erik had a feeling it was dinnertime but nobody really wanted what was on the plate.
“Yeah, I mean, I did. Kinda taking a break at the moment to focus more on my studies.” Erik said, looking down quickly. Feeling surrounded.
“So are you a fag or something? ‘Cuz only fags model,” Johnny noted.
“No, I’m not!”
“Well I guess that settled it, he’s not,” Rick laughed, a predatory smirk on his face.
“Why don’t you model for us, then?” Derek asked. “Y’know, show us some of your best.”
Erik frowned, a kind of alarm ringing somewhere in his brain behind the alcohol.
“Nah, uh, I’m good, man,” he choked out a laugh, glancing around for Chris to back him up but realizing he had disappeared.
“Who’re you looking around for? You aren’t hot for Chris or anything are you?” The blonde guy whose name Erik forgot asked, stepping further into his space.
“N’, no,” Erik snapped, trying for confident but coming out anesthetized.
“Oooh, I think he is, he totally is,” Johnny cackled.
He felt himself pulled into another room, the door shutting closed, and it was suddenly and painfully quiet, save for Rick, Derek, and Johnny, who were grinning wolfishly at him, the noises of the party stifled through the door.
“C’mon, pretty boy, show us how you model. Maybe we can get some tips from you, for your own modelling careers,” Rick laughed.
Erik suddenly felt loopy, his vision fading fast.
“C—C—"
He couldn’t find his friend anywhere. Where was Chris? Room spinning around him, hands touching him, grabbing him. Laughter, teasing. Sick with horror as he felt a hand on his fly. He grabbed at the hand with what little strength remained, but it was the equivalent of weakly batting away a bug. It had never worked, anyway. He felt a hand strike him, a burst of pain in his cheek not unexpected.
“Erik! Stay still! I’m not going to tell you again. The longer you resist the more you’re going to hurt, boy. What have I told you?”
Erik sucked in a breath and screamed before everything faded to black.