John

"The fuck she isn't," his dad snarled. "She can come whenever she likes, I'll have her a fucking key made!"

"No you won't! You are going to keep fucking my god damn girlfriend!" John yelled.

Emmerleigh gaped at him and his dad put his hands on his hips, his eyebrows high. "Son, she isn't your girlfriend. That's a lie you tell people to cover up who you really are... you can't get caught up in your own lie and ruin her life with it..."

"It's not a lie! She's my girlfriend. She has been for a couple of years now!"

"John?" Mack asked, confused.

"I said wait in my fucking room!" John screamed at him. "This has nothing to do with you!"

"Son, I always said I would never interfere with your love life. You are who you are and I have known it since you were six and you asked for four Ken dolls and clothes for your birthday. I have always accepted you for who you are... but this man in front of me now... I do not accept him. I don't accept this asshole who is using this girl, making her think she has a chance and getting jealous because you think someone might take her away from you so you can't use her any more. I get that you have some weird S&M thing I don't get, but I don't think that boy signed up for this bullshit either. You are doing wrong by both of them and I do not accept that. I have stood by you and helped you for everything you have ever wanted or needed... but I won't stand for this."

"I'm not asking you to! I don't need this bullshit right now! Em, I mean it, you need to go! I will call you tomorrow."

"No. No you won't," she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks now. "I don't want to talk to you... not ever again. This... what you have done to me... I feel violated, John. Completely. You lied to me, you used me and... I came here to give myself to you and instead I get used by another man! I feel... I feel like I have been raped, John. Not at his fault but at yours! You lied to me and set all of this in motion, this never could have happened without your lies and you misleading me!"

"Em! You ARE my girlfriend! You know that! I have every intention of marrying you!"

"Marrying me?!? Are you out of your mind? You are gay!"

"So what?"

"So I don't want to marry you, John! I am not going to be your cover! I want to be loved and made love to and kissed! I don't want to be someone who has to show up to office parties and pretend next to you! I want the real thing! And I won't even get into the fact that if you truly, in some fucked up and bizarre way think of me as your girlfriend, you are cheating on me!"

"It's not like that! Mack is just a fucktoy! I'm not in love with him at all!"

"And you love me?" she asked flatly.

"Well... yeah, Em. Of course I do."

"Do you hear yourself, John? Do you hear how fucked up you sound? You need help! Real help!"

"Bullshit! I am not going back to the stupid fuckign therapist, I am fine!" John raged, pacing in front of the door with his hands on his head. "Em... you are leaving. Now," he spat, stepping across the room and taking hold of her arm. He pulled her to the door and opened it. "I will call you tomorrow or whatever."

"Let her go, Little John!" his father snapped. "Don't you put your hands on her again!"

"I'm not hurting her, quit overreacting!" John yelled.

"You are shoving her out the door without shoes, without her purse or keys and blood still covering her face! Let her go! Em, come here, I'll grab a washcloth."

"Em, get your shoes," John snarled, shoving her towards the bedroom door. "You need to go and he isn't putting hands on you again!"

Emmerleigh was so incredibly confused, but also pissed. She spun to John. "You do NOT get to decide anything for me, John! You don't even get to speak to me anymore! I will do what I want with whoever I want and you do not get to stop me! Lose my number, lose my address and forget we were ever friends, asshole!" she yelled.

His father held out a damp cloth and instead, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into his room, slamming his door as she did. She turned the lock, then went to the bed and pulled her shirt off, tossing it on the floor before laying down, tears in her eyes. Her hands went to her jeans, but his father snatched the shirt off the floor and threw it at her roughly before leaning over her, fury in his eyes.

"I will not be used either, Em! Don't even try it. Put you fucking clothes back on," he hissed quietly so that no one outside could hear him.

"Open the fucking door!" John yelled through it.

His dad stayed close, leaning over her and looking her face over, still pissed. "When... and I do fucking mean when, you come back to my bed, it is not going to be to make that shit jealous! It's going to be because you want me to make you come like a fucking geyser again, because you want my mouth on you again and you want me to fuck you until you pass out again. And me, Em. Because you fucking want me. Do you understand me?"

She stared up at him, wide eyed, then nodded slightly.

Had he always been that commandingly sexy?

He had always been hot, John looked just like him, just without the scruff and with nicer clothes. His words had brought up other things as well... most of them how amazing he was in bed. His hands, his lips, his... dick.

That had all been him making her feel that way.

Of course it was. She had never imagined John could do those things to her because he couldn't. John didn't care enough about another person to make sure they enjoyed themself or to work to see them pleased. John cared about John getting off. Having someone grovel and beg for him, serve him completely.

How had she not known it wasn't John?

She knew all of those things about him. Had she really been that fooled by a pretty face and blinded by the attention he was giving her?

"Open the fucking door!" John yelled, banging on it again.

"Get off my door!" his father yelled, then turned and looked back down at Emmerleigh, watching her face as all of those realizations washed over her.

"Em, get out here!" John demanded.

"No! No... I... think I hit my head too hard. I am staying here for a while," she called, confused. More quietly. "Do... you have some tylenol I could have? And more water please?"

"Come out here so we can talk!" John yelled.

"John, leave over!" his dad yelled, yanking the door open. "You need to go see to that boy you have crying in your room!"

"Em! Come out here and... why is your shirt off?!? Put your fucking shirt on! Jesus!" he yelled, coming in and yanking her off the bed, shoving her sweater over her head. "Come on!" he demanded, pulling her out of the bedroom.

"I told you not to put hands on her again!" his father growled, storming across the room with a bottle of water and a bottle of tylenol in one hand. "You are fucking drunk! You need to let her go and sleep it off, Little John. I will not tell you again to take your hands off of her!"

"She is mine to put hands on! Not yours! Mine! You do not get to have her! She belongs to me!"

Emmerleigh yanked away from John, then spun and slapped him as hard as she could. "I am not yours! I was never yours and I will never be yours! You put your hands on me again and I will break every single finger in your hand! Go in there and talk to Mack and apologize for being such a freaking dick to him!"

"Don't bother," Mack sobbed from the door. "I am leaving!" He threw himself away from the bedroom to the front door and opened it, then paused to look back.

John wasn't even looking at him, he was glaring down at Emmerleigh, who just felt sad and broken now.

Mack slammed the door and left.

"You're an asshole," his father growled. "Go catch up to him and say you're sorry."

"Fuck that, he knows I don't like him like that. It was just about sex. Em, you ARE mine. No matter who I was fucking, it was always you I spent my time with, hung out with, went everywhere with. Everyone knows we are a thing, Em, everyone! I know you care about me... love me even and maybe I should have told you I only like sex with dudes, but it's you I want to marry, Em. Don't you understand that? It's you I planned on marrying! I have the whole thing planned out! A huge beach wedding, you in a white flowy, boho sundress, one of those white feather boho style headdress things in your hair, bare feet. I'll have some of those white linen pants and a white shirt that's open in the front and almost see through. Super hot and sexy. It'll be beautiful! We are the perfect couple, Em, we look great together!"

"Stop! Stop, John, listen to yourself. You don't care about me as much as you care about the wedding and how it will look and what we look like as a couple. I believe you. I believe that you want to marry me... but I know that it will never happen. I don't want you, John. I want love!"

"I love you, Em!"

"I want real love, and passion and amazing sex and kissing and holding hands! I don't want to be a best friend for the rest of my life!"

"You could at least give it a chance! We're great together, Em! You are so incredibly smart and hot, you could have everything all set up perfectly! Once we finish school and you get your job with Black and Veech, we'll be set up!"

Emmerleigh felt like she'd received another blow and she flinched. "You want me because you know I am going to make good money!" she accused, more tears welling up.

"No! No, Em, you know I don't! I mean, it'll be awesome! Not having to worry about money for once. I'll be working too! I'll find a good job, that's why I'm going to school, right?"

"And do you intend on her doing the application and your interview and job too?" his father demanded. "She already does most of your courseload under the guise of tutoring. You were just using her for that too, knowing that once she was out of school you had it made. Fuck your god damn mother for leaving me with someone who is just like her. Go to bed, Little John, sleep off the alcohol. No! Not another fucking word, look at her. You've broken her enough. Go! Or I'll put you there myself. Em, go wait in my room, here. Take these," he said gently, handing her the pills and water, then leading John to his room.

Emmerleigh went to his room and sat on his bed, took the pills, then curled up to sob. Her head was throbbing, her mouth hurt and her heart ached. All of her ached.

Arms enfolded her and she let them as she sobbed brokenly into the pillow, crying herself to sleep.

She woke to a hand on her face, brushing her hair back. "Hey, Em," his father said softly, smiling. "Sit up. Eat this," he told her, putting a plate in her lap as she sat up.

She looked down at the biscuits and gravy, blinking, then looked up at him in surprise. "You made this?"

"Sure did. Eat up."

"Oh! Wow, this is really good! I didn't realize I was so hungry! Umm... thanks. This is nice. Ummm... I do need the ladies room real quick though, excuse me."

She came out and he was in the living room with her plate and a glass of milk on the coffee table, eating his own plate full. She sat down next to him and picked up her plate, feeling a little lost.

"You always cook like this?"

"Only on Sundays. Usually it's a bowl of cereal. Little John used to get up and eat with me every Sunday, but not since he turned 21 and started staying out Saturday nights."

She nodded and took a few more bites, quietly thinking as she peeked at him through her hair. She was so confused. She should make an excuse, leave, not sit here with him and eat breakfast like everything was normal. Nothing was normal.

She had slept with John's father. No. She had let his father make love to her, make her come and then fuck her. Though, she guessed she had slept with him too. More than once.

She had slept with him.

After everything, she had laid in his bed, in his arms and fallen to sleep with him holding her. He was so... safe. He felt good. His arms were comforting and warm and loving. They put her at ease every single time he had touched her.

"What do you normally do on Sundays?" she asked lightly.

"Breakfast is the only tradition. Depends on the season otherwise. Sometimes it's fishing, sometimes it's working on my bike, sometimes it's reading a book or watching a movie."

"You don't have a girlfriend?"

He smirked. "Last woman I dated was several months back. We broke up when I wouldn't commit."

"Didn't like her or didn't like committing?"

"Neither one. Not enough anyway. She was too... high maintenance? Is that the term you all use?"

"'You all'?" she smiled. "Ok boomer."

"None of that," he laughed. "No, I just mean... she was always trying to pick fights and she was always real demanding of my time. I would say on Wednesday that I was going fishing on Sunday. Sunday comes and she pitches a fit, saying she wants me to stay home with her and take her shopping. She didn't need me to, she just couldn't stand me wanting to do anything alone. For me. That didn't sit well with me. So when she started demanding a ring, I walked away."

"Did John like her?"

He snorted. "I think he said hi to her once. Maybe."

"He never mentioned you dated anyone."

"Apparently he told you he hated me."

"No! No, he never said that! I assumed that you didn't like him. The way he talked, always so vague about you and no one was ever allowed to come here. Ever. You were so strict and didn't let him go anywhere or do anything."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Growing up. Like, middle school and highschool."

"Em... I never told him he couldn't have people over. No one came over because he was ashamed of where we lived. And he did go places, especially in highschool. He had an app on his phone and he would meet boys and they would go hang out, usually over in Vesper or Bennington. Not here, he was afraid someone would see him and recognize him. And when he was younger? He didn't want people over because of his room. He had posters up for years and kept a lot of his things from when he was little for a lot longer than most boys would. It's the main reason I started getting him therapy. I caught him playing with his dolls when he was in highschool and he was... so goddamn angry with them. The things he was saying, pretending they were doing. He had so much rage and I didn't know why. I loved him, I supported him... but he hated himself. He wanted to be perfect and he thinks he's not. I was so shocked the day I came home and you were here... then I realized his bedroom door was padlocked and he was keeping you at the table and not letting you see anything else. I was hoping he was coming around, but... he was just learning to be sneakier. More manipulative. I had no idea you didn't know. He always talked like you did, the way he said things. Even Friday. 'Me and Mack and Em are going to a party, don't worry, I'll be safe. I'll text when I leave.' Perfectly normal things that made me think you knew."

"I didn't know you knew my name."

"You were the only friend he talked about. I knew he had others, but he kept them a secret from me. I knew they were boys like Mack, boys he used. You though, you he talks about constantly. I feel like I know you even if I have only laid eyes on you a handful of times. I thought... I sort of thought it was the same the other way round. He talked about me to you."

"No... not really. He only ever said you were strict and didn't like people to come here and that he wasn't allowed to go anywhere or do anything. I guess that was so I wouldn't know he was leaving and hanging with boys all the time. I only knew you from the few times I saw you... honestly I was a little terrified of you."

"I imagine, the picture he painted of me. Still?"

"No. I mean, a little. Yesterday was..."

"Amazing?"

"I was going to say fucked up. That entire misread conversation at the party where he was telling Mack what he wanted and me thinking he was talking to me... coming here when he was with Mack... it seems so surreal. What are the odds that things would align how they did? You being in the shower when he said he was going to go home and shower?"

"Fairly good considering he texted me to say he would be home in an hour and to save him hot water. I got in and took a shower so it would be hot again by the time he got home. What are the chances that I spoke to you several times and you never realized it wasn't him?"

"You whispered, or... your voice was strained in other ways. There was once or twice when I thought you didn't sound like yourself... and the scruff... that should have given it away. John always shaves and keeps his face perfect."

He leaned up and took her plate, taking both of them to the kitchen before coming back and sitting down again, closer this time. He grabbed up the remote and turned on the TV, then laid back slightly and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

This was where she should say she had to go. Make an excuse, leave.

He made himself comfortable, one arm behind his head as he scrolled through shows. He lifted his arm in invitation, not looking at her.

She hesitated, then moved closer, laying on his chest tensely. She could leave any time... she just wondered if it would feel the same now that she knew. If he would still feel good even though he wasn't John.

He did.

His arms were strong and solid, but still gentle as he held her against his chest. He settled on a show and dropped the remote, putting both arms around her. She let out a breath and closed her eyes, trying to sort out how she felt. This was nice, but... was it what she wanted?

She didn't want John now, that was for sure.

Was it insane to even consider testing the waters with his father?

Why shouldn't she? She already knew he was gentle and sweet and loving, and that he liked her. She knew he accepted everything about his son except that he was an asshole.

She guessed she would just dabble her toes in the water for now, feel out the situation, see how she felt.

For now, she was fine where she was.

More than fine, she felt content. Happy. How was that even possible after all that had happened?

John was gay. How had she not known that?!?

He wasn't like the other gay men she knew, or like the ones on TV. He was so... manly and athletic and he acted like other guys...

Looking back though, his penchant for high end clothes, always wanting to look absolutely perfect. His hair that took him longer to fix than it took her to fix hers. It took him longer to do everything as far as getting ready...

Other things occurred to her as well. The way he could call and coordinate what they were wearing, or come over and pick out what she would wear to match him. How he decided how she would fix her hair and pick her jewelry to wear. He even went shopping with her and helped her pick out clothes and accessories.

How had she not known?

She had just thought he liked looking nice and liked her to look nice alongside him.

She realized then, she was an accessory to him. Something that complimented the way he looked. He really did feel like he owned her, the same way he owned a watch or his favorite pair of shoes. She was his and no one else could have her.

She sighed and moved up, cuddling closer to his father.

John.

He was John too, she had to stop thinking of him as John's father, he was his own entity, and... she was starting to feel like he was much more of a man than John was. He was kind and thoughtful and giving. John was none of those. He was also a pretty amazing lover...

Just the thought of it made her go hot all over and squirm. His thumb stroked her arm lightly when she did, an absent gesture that made her go warm all over.

She turned and looked up at him from his chest and he bent his head as he turned so he could look at her with his sparkling eyes. He smirked slightly, his arms tightening. "Should I pause the movie?"