im gonna jump right into a post zee-leaves-with-alex scene here, but you’ll get the gist right off I think. Look cameron thomas, it’s the ghost of christmas future.
cw: cam whump, blood, teeth getting knocked together mention, violence, mentions of boxboys and trafficking, 4 to 1 ganging up, weed
A year ago, this whole fraternity thing had seemed like the best thing he’d ever done.
Now it seemed like an expensive way to humiliate himself.
In their struggle, Tyler had elbowed him in the jaw. He felt a fine spray of enamel coat his tongue like sand, ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all still in place. His hands and knees met the floor, and suddenly Tyler was standing over him, not in front of him. He called Cam something he didn’t quite catch, kicked him for good measure so he fell sprawled on his back.
He remembered fighting with Alex for the key to Zee’s collar, how they’d each been hell bent on causing as much pain to the other as possible, how he’d lain on the floor on his back afterwards, just like he was now, and laughed and laughed.
The timage of Zee holding a broken bottle as a weapon was etched into his mind, the way Alex had felt when they were fighting, and later, how it felt when Alex held him instead.
“What the fuck’s funny?” Michael asked, toeing Cam’s ribs with his shoe. “Huh? That's funny to you?”
Michael kicked him in the same spot Tyler had and he cried out, curling his arms around his abdomen, gasping at the way the pain licked up his side, seemed to radiate down his arm and into his hip. His cry echoed sharply off the high ceiling, the weird acoustics of the sparse room.
“Sixteen hundred bucks.” Michael reminded, squatting down on his heels. He took Cam’s hair in his fist, pulled his head a few inches off the hardwood. “That’s what I gave you.”
“And you got your money’s worth.” Cam said. “A year of shits n’ giggles, right? Good times.”
Michael let Cam’s head drop with a dull thud. “That was not sixteen hundred bucks worth of entertainment. Or the agreement.”
“Fair.” Cam groaned, rolled onto his stomach so he could crawl to his feet.
He half expected to be knocked back down, but they let him— watched him struggle to his elbows and knees, climb gingerly to his feet. It was not about the money. It never had been. Michael wasn’t exactly hurting for it, and neither was Tyler. Tweedle dum and tweedle dee here hadn’t even thrown in for Zee.
“If you miss him so much,” Cam winced, holding his side. “Why don’t you buy one for yourself.”
They were bored. He’d spent enough time on the other end of this to be able to read the room. He could probably walk out with that comment and no one would stop him. He had his hand on the doorknob when Michael closed the distance, knocked him hard in the back so he slammed into the door, grimacing as his cheek pressed against the old solid wood.
“You ought to pay us back,” he breathed over Cam’s shoulder, grinning. “With interest. It’s just good business.”
Did he really put enough effort into blending in with these guys they thought he could pay them all back? Or did Michael know he couldn’t, and that was the joke? That’s what he’d do, if he were the one pinning him against a door in his own fucking fraternity house. So much for brotherhood.
Cam laughed at the thought. “Yeah. Not gonna happen.”
Michael wrenched Cam back by the shirt, slammed him back into place so he yelped in pain despite himself.
To be fair, if this were Zee, he would’ve called Michael off at this point, and told Tyler not to chase him up the stairs. He wasn’t sure what god of fairness would look kindly on that appeal, but the thought crossed his mind nonetheless.
“You’re fucking useless, Byrne.”
Cam closed his eyes. “It’s been said.”
Michael let off and shoved him to the floor. This time, he made no effort to get off it. Michael opened the door, gestured for the rest of them. Tyler filed out last, jutting his chin at Cam and making kissy noises.
Cam fake-smiled, flipped him off.
Fuck you, Tyler. Fuck you especially.
Later, after he patched himself up in the bathroom mirror and smoked a bowl, Cam crawled into bed in his boxer briefs and a t-shirt that was only slightly bloodied.
Quitting crossed his mind, but where would he go? He didn’t want to live in his Dad’s house, even with the nicotine stains painted over and the broken doors replaced. Plus it was on the market, and priced to be gotten rid of in a hurry.
He thought of Alex, only forty five minutes away. Alex wouldn’t turn somebody away, not if they’d just driven that far to stop by. He pulled up Alex’s contact, looked at their last messages from a few days before.
He didn’t want to talk to Alex.
The irony was not lost on him.
He curled up in the middle of his bed, holding his pillow close to his chest. He sniffed, tugged it closer, wrapping his leg over it. He pressed his face into the worn fabric of his pillowcase and swallowed around the lump in his throat.
A year ago, this had all seemed like a very good idea.
