Tyler wakes up late after a terrible night and a nightmare. His friend Aaron shows up unexpectedly and is agitated. They argue about Thanksgiving when Tyler missed Aaron's recital. Aaron becomes sexually aggressive with Tyler, who resists and stops Aaron by twisting his wrist. They leave for the recital angrily with tensions still high between them.

1. Chapter 1
I woke up and wiped the dried spit on my cheek. The city was as dark as it had been when I’d fallen
asleep. The alarm clock showed 4:32 PM in red like the eyes of a demon lurking in the corner.
Shit. I’m already going to get there late.
The door shook on its hinges. That must have been what woke me up. For too long I wondered what was
happening. Earthquake? In New York? Maybe I don’t have to drive anywhere now. No…
“Tyler!”
Aaron.
I stumbled out of bed and tripped on the luggage on the floor. “Hold on a fucking minute!” I yelled. I
opened it and found Aaron in a pea coat, with a messenger bag strapped to his shoulder. My body felt like
stone. My tongue was flooded with a bitter taste like bile. I wanted to throw up. He inspected me and then
walked past, into the room. “For someone who’s supposed to be leaving in thirty minutes, you don’t look
ready.”
“I overslept.”
He sat on the window ledge and glared. “You look like shit.”
“So do you,” I said looking through the chest of drawers. I rubbed my forehead. I had a sleep headache
and a sore back. I did not want to drive 100 miles. “I had a terrible night.”
“So did I,” said Aaron. “Every night.”
“Look, I’ll be ready in a few minutes to take you to the recital. Can you wait outside? I need to change.”
“Why? I’ve seen you naked already. Not that it was much to look at.” He rested his chin on his palm. I
saw the red marks on his wrist poke out from under his sleeve. “I see you staring,” he said, “you feel sorry
for me.”
“I don’t.”
He shook his head. “You’re not insulting me back. Come on, tell me you think my hair looks terrible. I
shouldn’t have bleached it, or, better yet, just call me an asshole. I know you think I’m one.”
I undressed and raided the drawers of the dresser. Honestly, I thought he looked good with that hair, but
complementing each other was a foreign concept. “Have you decided what you’re going to play for the
director tonight?”
“You know I don’t like small talk,” said Aaron looking out the window.
“How is it small talk? It’s relevant.”
“You’ve never cared about the recitals,” he said.
“Then why did I go to every single one?”
“To be bored to death. You’re a masochist. Take off that sweater! It’s ugly.”
“My mom got it for me.”

2. He chuckled. “Are you trying to impress her by wearing it tonight?”
“Well, I did miss Thanksgiving,” I said, before realizing my mistake. Aaron clapped his hands. “There it
is! Finally. You’re still mad at me. It’s better that way, Tyler. When you don’t pretend everything’s fine.”
“I’m not mad. Why would I be?”
Aaron approached, pulled the sweater from over my head, and tossed it into the suitcase on the floor.
“You can impress her another day.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
I kept looking for something to wear, but he began to run his cold hands down my back. I flinched, but
Aaron kept going.
“Stop it.”
Aaron, taller than me by a head, buried his face in the crook of my neck. Deep, hot breaths. His hands
went to my underwear and started to pull it down. “Not right now.” My underwear fell around my ankles.
He pressed me hard into the dresser. Hard enough to shake the wall. The force was blunt and sickening. I
was in pain. “Come on, I know you want it. How long has it been?” I could hear him undoing his zipper.
“Seriously, stop, Aaron… Aaron!”
He pushed me harder. “It’s why you keep me around, right? It’s the only thing I’m good for.”
“God damn it, stop!” I freed my arm and grabbed Aaron’s wrist, twisting the sutured skin. “Ow! Jesus!
What the fuck?” He let go and I pushed him away.
“I told you to stop!”
“You didn’t have to do that though! It’s still raw.” He winced, rubbing his wrist. “Crazy fucker.”
“And you’re not?” I rubbed my chest. I could tell there would be bruises all over me. Aaron retreated and
sulked in the corner rubbing his wrist while I dressed. I could hear his sniffling. I didn’t look up to see if
he was crying. I shouldn’t have left him alone like that. I probably should have taken him back to the
hospital or called his parents. They still didn’t know about what had happened on Thanksgiving, and I
didn’t know if they would care. I just wanted to get out of the city as fast as possible and have a break
from the emergency that was Aaron’s life. I closed the zipper on the suitcase and grabbed my keys. “Let’s
go.” Aaron looked down and walked out into the hallway ahead of me without a word. Feeling guilty, I
tried to put my free arm around his waist, but he shook it off. We walked down the stairwell, the echoes
of our boots yelling to each other. The street was covered in filthy slush. Aaron’s silver car was parked by
the sidewalk. “I thought you said you wanted me to walk you there.” He sniffled and wiped his nose with
his glove. “No. I just wanted to see you before you left, asshole.” He pulled away and walked to his car. I
sighed and followed. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“You don’t mean that,” he replied. He jumped in his car, slammed the door shut, and sped away down the
street, spraying slush onto my pants.