Husband of My Homophobic Sister Ch. 22

Chapter 22 - Fucking intense night!

Warning content: Mentioning personal trauma, violence, and death.

This chapter was written for entertainment only and is in no way a guide. Always drive safely.

We were on our way home. Nate driving. We smelled, and we loved it! We just listened to music, talked about the night, laughed, and teased each other about what we would do in the shower when my playlist started playing the song Run Boy Run by Woodkid. Nate stopped talking at the first notes and just listened.

"Turn up the volume, please."

I smiled widely.

"Damn, sure. I love this song!"

"It's my favorite." Nate looked at the road ahead and tapped on the wheel with his fingers to the beat.

"You're joking!" I may have said that louder than was needed.

"You are drunk, and no, it really is," Nate looked at me, amused.

I grinned at him. "I am not drunk. I had two beers. At the most, I am buzzed."

He smiled sweetly at me. "You had three. But I'll accept your judgment for now."

"Is it seriously your favorite?"

Nate nodded, turning the wheel gently. "Yes. I remember I stood frozen in the spot the first time I ever heard it. I loved it ever since."

"It's mine as well!"

Nate looked at me, checking with a smile if I was serious.

"Then we have a favorite song."

"You should watch the road," I said, grinning like a little boy and pressing the repeat-one button.

"Did you just put it on repeat?"

"There are very few songs I can listen to in a loop, but this one is among them. And I want to enjoy this with you."

He just laughed.

"I love this night!" I shouted when the song ended.

Nate grinned even more. "Yes, it was great!" He now had this dreamy smile listening to it again.

"You'll be mine, boy," I said it wrong on purpose, along with the lyrics.

"You won't be singing it to me?" Nate winked at me.

"Not alone, not a chance!"

"Okay, the next time it starts, we both go."

I leaned toward him. "You serious?"

He nodded with that white smile looking at the road as he was taking another turn. "Yes."

"I must be drunk! Okay, ready?"

Nate nodded again and grinned like crazy. We sat there listening to the last chords in silence, waiting for it to start again.

Then we both started singing! I was looking at him, listening to his deep baritone, completely smitten. Every time there was the line 'You'll be a man, boy,' we both sang, "You'll be mine, boy!"

I don't remember the last time I had this much fun! When it stopped, we laughed.

Nate pulled to the side, stopped the engine, sat, and turned towards me. We just sat there looking at one another, listening to the song for the third time. Then he kissed me for the whole duration of the fourth.

How old are we again? I feel like in my teens!

"Let's head home." Nate purred as his lips left mine.

"Let's. I need to devour you whole!"

Nate buckled again with an endearing smirk. "You bet you do!"

He started the car and got back on the road. I realized how hot it was to watch him drive!

"You like driving a stick?"

Nate smirked at my remark.

"Yeah, I prefer it. Actually, it gives you more control over the car."

"You can drive a stick, you fuck like a pornstar, and you fight like a fucking wrestler. Is there anything you can't do?"

Nate laughed loudly. "Many things, actually." He kept smiling widely.

"But seriously, that was fucking impressive. How did you learn all that?"

He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. "I told you."

"You've really gotten into so many fights with those guys? I would never have said that about you or Dan, as he is the only one I've met."

His smile lessened a little. "People change."

"True, but this is huge! What happened?"

I didn't mean to go into anything deep or heavy. I was just spewing shit, enjoying the night, and I wanted to know more about this side of him that I never knew about. But at the sight of him, I froze. Nate gripped his jaw tightly, and I could see something was going on.

"What happened?" I meant right now, with his mood, I didn't mean to pry into something that was obviously painful for him, yet I suppose everyone could read into that question differently.

"You know how I said I drank my fill for the rest of my life?"

"Yeah," I said, nearly worried.

"That's part of my story I managed to speak about. But it's more like the part where I can hide the rest."

"And what is the rest of the story?"

Nate took a deep breath and blinked a few times. "Don't make me do this behind the wheel Richard."

"Why? What does it have to do with driving?" I was fucking stupid! Totally fucking clueless!! Why did I need to pry?! I could see it was hurting him...

Nate gave me a look I hadn't seen before. It excited me and scared me at the same time.

"Richard, do you trust me?"

Without thinking, I went, "Yes."

Nate exhaled and changed the gears suddenly. Then he started to speed up the car. We were driving at 50mph at that point, but then the car started to accelerate. 

I looked around. We were on an empty night road. Nate drove to some road leading to a suburban area, and the way the car turned made me slide in my seat. I grabbed the door handle and looked at his focused profile. He changed the gears in a way that made me double-check if I had a seatbelt on. I stared at him, shocked and worried, trying to stay calm. He hit the gas. We were now at 87mph.

"You know when you do something for a long time, and you are passionate about it, it grows on you, and soon you start to look at the world around you through the lens of it. You climb, and with every rock you see, you think, how can I make it to the top? Every crack and edge you see as grabbing spots."

We were nearing a junction on the road. I looked at Nate, scared. He changed the gears again to slow down enough to make it and made the turn without even changing his expression.

"You walk highlines, and every two points high above the ground made you think of rigging a line up there. Buildings, towers, cliffs, mountains."

A long straight road ahead. I heard the car row as he hit the gas pedal.

"You freerun, and everything you see is an obstacle worth jumping over. You speed drive, and every road you see makes you think, how fast can I go and still survive the turn? Or if a car appears on the other side, will I make it past him?"

I watched his profile, realizing there were tears running down his cheeks. Then, in fast motion, he wiped them away.

"When your mind gets used to life on the edge, you feel that if you woke up one day in life without it, you wouldn't be able to survive. Like the sudden halt would kill you because your mind would keep the speed up, but your life would just collide with the still world around you and shatter you into pieces."

I yelped, reading the number 107 on the dashboard under the wheel.

"You know, Richard, there are moments in life that will split it into the one before and the one after."

He took a deep breath, and his hand went to that fucking stick again. I looked ahead. I was screaming internally. Turn! Fuck! 

Nate stopped talking and again tortured my car to bring it to just under 60. Then he made a sharp turn, and I screamed, gripping the dashboard in front of me.

"After this moment, you are no longer the same person. Yet the memory of the life before lives within you. So you either go crazy or you adapt. But to adapt, you need to bury that part of you that is making you crazy first. That part which reminds you of how much you need that edge to thrive! To feel alive! But you must remember that that part can also kill you. Otherwise, you'll never let go of it!"

Nate pulled on the brake, and the car drifted and spun! His eyes were laser-focused, and he turned the wheel with precision. In those seconds that felt like an agonizing few hours, the car stopped. I would have screamed, but it all happened so fast and with such intensity that I was muted in shock.

Nate sat there glaring out of the front window, both hands on the wheel.

"When I was young, I was a bully. My parents never cared for more than my good grades and boasting to others about how gifted children they had. No one cared that our talents were cold hard work we both hated and despised. All those talents that made me perfect till I sometimes bled; I grew to hate."

He wiped his face with the back of his hand and stared with hatred in front of him.

"My parents taught me that this was the way to strive. To go deep into things to perfect anything I decide. They also made me not care about it at the same time. I was hollow. And after I told them to fuck off after I refused to go to the college they chose for me, I filled that hole within me with adrenaline."

I couldn't stop staring at him in disbelief.

"Fights, alcohol, drugs. Then even that becomes boring. One can't go into those that deep and still feel good while doing so. I suppose that was my luck, this mindset I got from my grandma. If anything made her sick physically, she would refuse to touch it again. No exceptions, no excuses." 

His lips curled up just a tiny bit.

"Then I started to explore highs. Climbing, highlining, base jumping, skydiving. Anything that made my blood rush and spiked my adrenaline to the limit. Matt used to get into fights often. Like he lived in those moments, and in them, he felt the most alive. We were always there for him, and John or I usually calmed them down, but you can't stop it all, especially when both sides yearn for it. So on those, we, of course, fought with him. After a few wins, we all grew to love the thrill of pain, even the closeness to death."

Brandon once hyped us into speeding. Not for some races, just the sheer thrill of being able to survive the next turn. Always on the edge of some other car appearing there and need to make it around. I was at the police station more times than I cared to count. But it was always just disturbance and speeding. I was in my early twenties and had wealthy parents that hated drama to be public, so I never got into any real trouble."

"I was living on the edge. Addicted to adrenaline. As it was the only thing that made me feel whole."

His voice got deeper and laced with pain. "Until one day."

Nate gripped the wheel tightly and then slammed into it with an open palm. He exhaled and tried to collect himself. The music was still playing, but he turned it off. Again, tears ran down his face, and this time he let them. He leaned back in his seat, and his eyes kept staring into the night out the front window. I wouldn't have been able to speak even if I had wanted to say something.

"I had a younger brother. His name was Luke."

He wiped the tears, and after a couple of moments, he continued with deep pain in his voice.

"He was also made into a gifted child, of course. Which meant being forced into greatness no matter how he felt or what he really wanted."

There was this heavy silence. Yet, from the look of him, I felt he was not finished. We were under a streetlight, which made everything happening here even more intense as I could see the expressions on his face.

"I killed him... One day, I came home. I hadn't been living there for about two years back then, but he called me crying and furious that he wanted to come to live with me. I was twenty-two then."

Nate closed his eyes. "Our parents found out Luke had a girlfriend. She was in a state school and was just a regular student about to graduate and head to some no-name college. Her parents were just normal working people. I knew her. She was a nice girl. I really liked her, and they really loved each other. She made him happy. But for them, she was not enough, and she was keeping their prodigy son from greatness." Nate opened his eyes and hit the wheel in sheer frustration and anger as he said those words.

"I came there, and they were yelling. I never heard my parents scream. Never! Nor Luke. He was eighteen then, and he hated the life they made him live. He was mad that they broke up his relationship, and they were screaming about some fucked up recital he was supposed to attend the following day. It was mental! He didn't have a life; he had been stuck living the good son persona his whole childhood. And they had taken away the only thing that made his life bearable!"

"I was furious. I stepped in, and we were all screaming at each other like we were deranged. I told them to fuck off, and we stormed off in my car. I took him home. The guys and I were renting a house back then. We welcomed him in, and I promised him that we would make it right. Luke told me he had already spoken with Trish, but she told him that it was over and it was for good. He was devastated. We tried to be there for him to cheer him up. After a few hours, Luke told me he wanted to go to sleep, and we just let him rest."

Nate leaned to the wheel, gripping it tight with both hands. "Everything after that is just a blur. I remember the police coming over and asking about my car. I was just confused and looked for Luke. Even when they told me he was dead... I had to go there to identify him and meet our parents there. I think we all blamed each other so we wouldn't have to say out loud that we all thought it was our fault."

Nate hugged the wheel and remained to stare out into nothingness. "I was devastated... I was constantly remembering how I was talking with him about how I cleared my head when I had done this or that. I even told him I would just speed on an empty road and stop at the last second. I was just talking shit! Trying to fill the silence... I will never forgive myself for giving him that idea."

"The turn we always made with the guys and laughed like stupid out of the sheer joy from surviving it cost him his life."

"There is no amount of 'it's not your fault' people can tell me for me ever to believe that or forgive myself."

"I couldn't start a car for years after that. And when I had to, I cried behind the wheel for months. I couldn't drink because, in the drunken state, all that guilt came crashing down on me, and even touching alcohol became a trigger for me. Same with drugs. I kept highlining and climbing, but I just became different. I think all of us guys did. They loved Luke like their own brother. They had known him since he was little. He was this little guy who wanted to hang out with us every chance he got. When he found Trish, it was us he introduced her to, and they used my room every time they could."

"I used to make fun of him, keeping a bunch of condoms on the nightstand and wishing them good night in the middle of the afternoon. I loved teasing them, and they were really cool about it. I loved Trish. She was a good girl."

"There was no question about whether he could live with us when all that shit went down, and they were cheering him up in the same shit way that I was. It was hell for us there, after that crash."

Nate seemed to calm down just a little. He leaned back into the seat and looked at his hands.

"Mary knew about Luke. She heard it from Trish. They were best friends, even though I didn't know her back then. She met me a few years later when she came to one Slackline festival. So it was kind of soothing to have someone who knows and understands why I woke up in the middle of the night shaking and crying. We dated for about two years, but I broke it off. I think she thought that I had PTSD, and she understood many times that I didn't feel like having sex. But after some time of being with her, I just couldn't stand it. Knowing that she knows was just reminding me of everything more. I tried to deal with it. So I just couldn't be with her, even though I think I really did love her."

"Nathaniel..." I cried myself. I was utterly devastated hearing all that. 

Nate looked at me, his eyes full of pain. I was about to unbuckle and hug him when I heard the message sound. I didn't care for it one bit, but as I unbuckled myself and went to lean to him, my eyes involuntarily looked at the screen of my phone still attached to the car's dashboard.

I couldn't help my reaction when there was a message from Jerry on the screen. It read only one word: 'help'

Nate must have seen me freeze in fear that just grew within me. I couldn't even think. No! Not now, of all the fucking times!

"Richard, what happened?"

He looked at my phone and caught the message before the screen went black.

I was shocked. There were so many things I needed to process. To do! To be there for Nathaniel! After a confession like this! Yet I knew just how serious this message was!

"Richard!"

He took my face in his hands and made me look at his red, swollen face that bore the traces of him crying.

"Nathaniel, please forgive me, this... Jerry."

Nate nodded. "Something happened."

I nodded, and without any denunciation on his face, he handed me the phone. I looked at it and then at him, feeling like the shitiest partner ever!

"I am so..."

"Stop it. What happened?" I saw on his face that he was now more concerned about me than himself. Why tonight? Of all nights? Why now?

I immediately called Jerry.

I heard it ringing, but he wasn't picking up. I looked at Nate. I was desperate.

"How fast can you drive?"

Nate started the car within a second. "Tell me the address."

I told him, and he nodded, knowing exactly where that was. 

I tried to call Jerry the second time.

"When we broke up, and Jerry started exploring his kinks more, I asked him for one thing. If ever he felt that he was in danger to send me this message. It had never happened before, but knowing the assholes Jerry likes to fuck, this one must have turned out ugly. Jerry never texted me before, ever! And I saw him coming to me with black-eye and bruises all over once. Even then, he didn't text. I am really worried. I am so sorry, Nathaniel!"

"Don't you dare feel bad, Richard! I will be by your side for the rest of our lives. He needs help now! I trust your judgment."

"What did you just say?"

He just smiled weakly at me and turned back to the road.

I wish I could have had a place for thoughts like this. I wish I could enjoy the feeling or even trouble over it, but now I just couldn't stop thinking that Jerry was not answering.

"He isn't picking up," I said with worry when the line got disconnected again.

Nate turned to me seriously and sped up. I buckled my seatbelt, and we rode fucking fast! The weird thing was that I wasn't afraid in the least. I just needed to get there as soon as possible, and I suppose I trusted Nate with my life right now. I trusted him more than anyone ever.

We were silent the rest of the way.

Nate slowed when we got to Jerry's street and looked for the number.

"There, the second one on the left. Stop." I reached into the glovebox for the key pouch.

We ran out of the car, and I jumped the stairs and took my keys out.

"You have the keys?"

I nodded. "We dated for over two years and lived here for six months," I said as I opened the door and ran down the hall to the elevator.

We went up in tense silence, and I ran to Jerry's door the second the elevator opened.

I banged on his door, but there was no answer.

I used the key and opened it slowly, worried and expecting the worst.

There were obvious signs of battle. I was really afraid for him now.

"Jerry!?" I shouted and looked for him in that mess.

It stank of cum, things were all over the place, and the room was dark. How long did it take for us to get here?

"Rick?" We heard a weak voice in the corner of the room. I leaped to him and took him into my arms.

"Jerry! Are you all right?"

"Not really. I am so sorry."

"Stop that nonsense. Wait here. I will turn on the light."

"I can do it. I see the switch."

"Who is here with you?"

"Nate, we are kind of dating. Can you move?"