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Description
Alex limps and crawls, his whole body hurting as if he's just been hit by a train. He can feel a trickle of blood running down from the back of his head where it had hit a sharp corner of Tom's bed. And bruises are probably beginning to form on his forehead, on his arms, on his back. But the pain of all these injuries do not compare to the hurt he feels in his heart. It's indescribably painful, like someone's just ripped his heart out. His chest is nothing but an empty hollow. Tears spill out from his dazed eyes as he collapses into one dark corner of the street, cowering and burying his head deep into his knees.

"Gosh Alex, what happened to you?" Alex looks up feebly to find two dark figures towering over him. He doesn't have the strength to reply, and therefore continues whimpering, his eyes completely glazed. The last thing he remembers before everything goes dark is the horrorstruck faces of his flat mate and the 20-year-old's boyfriend, swimming before his eyes. Then he goes unconscious.

* * * * *

Michael crouches at a corner of the room and peeks up at a glowering Tom. Shit… Why did I say that? But even he himself cannot provide an answer to why he had to fuck Alex, or why he accused the man he loved so dearly. Alex is gone now, and the blur of the incident that just happened before him replays in his head. It's all my fault… all my fault… Michael starts rocking back and forth on his heels in despair.

Gradually, Tom calms down, his rapid angered heaves slowing down to a regular breathing. "You okay there?" He kneels down beside the guilt-stricken Michael (who to Tom seems only to be extremely terrified) and asks gently. He offers a helping hand to help Michael stand up and ushers him towards the bed. Michael lets himself be lead towards the bed (at this he thinks of Alex again) and sits down. Tom is still staring caringly at him, but he knows he can't return the gaze without breaking down, and so chooses to look down towards his bare feet, twiddling his thumbs a bit.

Tom, seeing Michael's inability to speak, ducks his head a little to peer at the latter's ashen face. "Um… Are you okay? You're scaring me." Michael grimaces and looks away. "I'm… fine…" He says in a rush, standing abruptly and turns to leave the room. "Hey, hold on there," Tom says, stopping the older male, "Where will you stay at now?"

Shit, I can't go back to Charlie's to face Alex now, the thought flashes through his mind and keeps him nailed to the spot. "C'mon, you can settle down here first," Tom continues, his voice full of concern, completely oblivious to what is going on in the American's head. "You can stay until Alex--" He stops short, and struggles to calm the anger from bubbling inside him again. Finally, he exhales long and hard, and without another word, starts rummaging around his wardrobe for spare pillows and blankets. "You can stay in Ed's room for now. I'll text him on that." And he strides out of the musical-instruments-littered room.

I'm so so so fucked up… Michael looks at the open doorway, his mind in a blaze. He wonders how Alex is right now… He should probably call to see if he's okay – wait, he hasn't even brought his stuff with him. And he's put himself in danger too – what if Tom suddenly decided that he should kick Michael out too? And what will happen when he finds out the truth? For once, Michael thanks Tom for his impulsive thick-headedness.

At least, when it holds everything together and keeps the bubble from bursting.

He sighs and shakes his head slowly, and walks out into the living room to locate the bluenette.

* * * * *

"Alex? Alex, are you alright?" The brunette opens his heavy eyelids to find Charlie's face greeting him. "Alex!" The younger male squeals in joy, "You're alive!" He immediately hops off the scrawnier of the two and runs off towards the other side of the room. "Ed! Ed!" A fuzzy set of footsteps follows, and Ed appears, walking behind the super excited Charlie. "He's okay!" Charlie hollers again. "Woah, woah, keep it down will 'ya?" Ed laughs, "I can't blame you for being hyper over our friend's safety. But it's almost midnight now." He half jokes, and leans over Alex. "Welcome back," he smiles warmly. Charlie scoots over with a warm cup of tea and hands it over to the severely bruised 23-year-old. Alex receives it with a nod and a grin brimming with gratitude, but his shaky hands spill the steaming liquid inside. "Careful," Charlie helps Alex to hold it while the latter drains it down hungrily. "Thank you guys," Alex croaks weakly, feeling better already.

The couple, after much caring for their injured friend, decides to give him some space and leaves Alex to himself on the couch. They walk silently back to the en suite bedroom, for Ed has left all his stuff in there. "I should probably get going…" he talks, though not really meaning it. Charlie puts on his famous puppy eyes, blinking at his boyfriend pleadingly. "Please, can you stay for tonight? I don't want to be all alone…" Ed purses his lips as if he is going to say no, and then says, "Okay then. And don't you pull that face at me anymore – you're going to kill me with your adorableness." He pulls Charlie in to plant a light kiss on the forehead.

Just then, Ed's phone peeps its tiny got-a-message beep. He picks his phone up from the mess on the floor; the screen shows "Tom Milsom". What could it be? He checks the text message – it's Tom asking if Michael can stay at their place for the coming few weeks, specifically using his room. "What is it baby?" Charlie asks, seeing Ed's raised eyebrows at the message. "Oh, it's nothing. Just Tom asking if I'd give my room to Michael. To stay there."

"Are you going to let him?"

"Why not? Gives me an excuse to sleep with you anyway," Ed smirks, and settles his phone down on the toy-crowded desk of Charlie's. "You going to bed yet? It's pretty late." He doesn't want his sleep-loving boyfriend to stay up too late.

"Going to… But what about Alex?" Charlie replies, apparently worried about his flat mate's much-wounded state. "I really want to know how come he's ended up like that… but I don't want to probe my nose into his business and make him feel sad all again…"

"Let's wait till tomorrow. We'll see if Alex feels better by then," Ed reassures him. "Now go to sleep before you collapse!" He drags the almost-slumbering Charlie towards the bed and takes off his t-shirt. Then he crawls under the covers to snuggle up beside the drooling boy.

* * * * *

Michael tosses and turns, but he still can't fall asleep. It must be about three o'clock in the morning, but the events of the night are still whizzing through his head at a dizzying speed, giving him a terrible headache and insomnia. Finally he decides to get up and kill some time with the books in Ed's room. But as he flips through the pages, the words dance and float around to form nothing but gibberish, and only one sentence remains in Michael's mind: What am I gonna do? Sooner or later, Tom's going to find out the truth. Then where will he go?

* * * * *

Alex sits up groggily, but immediately flinches as the cuts on his arms and legs brush against the side of the couch. At the same time, his head throbs, and his whole body aches terribly. He manages to drag himself off the couch though, and he stumbles towards the bathroom to wash up. Brushing his teeth, he looks himself in the mirror for the first time after all the turmoil yesterday night, and notices a scar starting to form at the corner of his forehead. The shadows below his eyes are overwhelmingly dark, contrasting heavily with his pale face. This all makes him look like he's just been through hell and back. His every move hurts, and so, after a painful ten minutes of trying to clean himself, he surrenders, and shuffles back into the living room.

He arrives back into the living room to find Charlie and Ed up and about. "G'morning," Charlie chirps, a cup of tea in one hand, and a piece of toast in the other, "Feeling better?"

"Still pretty bad," Alex replies with a grimace whilst walking awkwardly back towards the couch to avoid his wounds from stinging again. "Good morning to you too," he nods at Ed, and sits himself down on the couch.

The other two lads walk over to where Alex is and sit beside him, each holding a mug. "Want one?" Charlie offers, but Alex declines with a wave of his hand. His sorrowful expression begins to surface again, and his two friends look at him worriedly. "Alex?" Ed inquires softly.

After a minute or two, Alex's eyes glistens, and a tear falls onto his lap. "Alex?" Charlie asks quietly, thoroughly frightened at his friend's behaviour. Then, as sudden as the teardrop, a huge sob racks his scrawny body, and Alex curls into a ball on the couch. Ed reaches over an arm to rub Alex on his back maternally, whilst signaling Charlie with his other hand to go get some tissue. Charlie stands up frantically, and dashes off to find the tissue box.

"Take deep breaths," Ed whispers, trying to get Alex to sit up and calm down. Eventually the curley-haired man unfolds himself and lets himself be comforted. His shoulders still shake uncontrollably, and his breath still ragged from the crying. Charlie walks with a cup of hot water to Alex, and hands him some tissue paper. "Are you fit enough to tell us what happened? Or do you want to just..."

"No, I'm fine," Alex insists, though still quite breathless. Then he retells the experience to his two friends.

* * * * *

"Urrrgh…" Tom reaches over his bed to slam his hand against his alarm clock. Usually he would be up making breakfast immediately, but today he can barely think straight. He's extremely disorientated, probably a result from last night's tumult. He scuffs out into the living room, squinting his eyes at the blaring sunlight. "Hi," he mumbles, turning around to see Michael sitting crossed-leg on the sofa. "Mornin'," Michael replies, and turns back towards the laptop on his lap, "Do you have any coffee?"

"I'm afraid not. Only tea. That okay with you?"

"Tea will do." Speaking, Michael sets his laptop aside to saunter over towards the kitchen. "No, I'll make it," Tom kindly offers, and walks into the kitchen. The rhythmical pattern of clicking and beeping of Michael's computer ensues.

The clang of the stainless steel teaspoons against the mugs seems to wake the bluenette a bit. As he stands there stirring, his thoughts slowly drift from random to-do things of the day towards the fight he had with Alex. His eyes turn slightly red, and sniff escapes from under his fringe. Nevertheless, he runs his mind through the order of the events, trying to make sense of why and how his ex and Michael would be in his flat. He barely recalls a voice telling Alex to get dressed quickly before Tom opens the door – wasn't that voice… Michael's? Then again, I could've imagined it in the mess – but I'm sure I heard it! Realisation hit him then. It had been Michael all along.

A loud smash echoes in the quiet morning. The smash of ceramics against the tiled floor of the kitchen. "Tom?" Michael appears at the doorway. He does a double take at the sight in front of him – a cup is shattered on the floor, and tea spilled everywhere. But the bluenette doesn't reply; instead, his whole body jerking in fury, he looks up slowly. His look is murderous, like he's ready to kill…

"You, you – bitch!"

* * * * *

"So, that's what happened." Alex finishes his account with a disheartened sigh. Tears threaten to blur his sight again, and he blinks hard. Beside him, his two friends are just as speechless, jaws dropping to the ground in awe at Michael's outrageous actions.

"But you can't just let him get away with that!" Charlie finally exclaims, still not quite believing what he just heard. "I mean, you let him rape you and then --" Charlie flails his arms around wildly, and stops talking, not quite knowing how to continue with his sentence. But Alex only keeps on shaking head, and staring down at his feet. "He's right," Ed says sensibly, "You need to do something. What do you say, I call Tom now --"

"No! Don't… He'll just come and tear me up again…" Alex whimpers, his face all scrunched up like a little boy that's just gotten into trouble.

"No. I have to. You have to," Ed says firmly, "Now listen. We'll all head back to my flat and confront Michael. We have to do something before it's too late." And without further explanation, grabs Alex by the arms and ushers him towards the door. Charlie walks on the brunette's other side, making sure he doesn't escape. Alex gives up trying to protest, and walks fearfully down the streets with his two friends sandwiching him.

Description
Alex limps and crawls, his whole body hurting as if he's just been hit by a train. He can feel a trickle of blood running down from the back of his head where it had hit a sharp corner of Tom's bed. And bruises are probably beginning to form on his forehead, on his arms, on his back. But the pain of all these injuries do not compare to the hurt he feels in his heart. It's indescribably painful, like someone's just ripped his heart out. His chest is nothing but an empty hollow. Tears spill out from his dazed eyes as he collapses into one dark corner of the street, cowering and burying his head deep into his knees.

"Gosh Alex, what happened to you?" Alex looks up feebly to find two dark figures towering over him. He doesn't have the strength to reply, and therefore continues whimpering, his eyes completely glazed. The last thing he remembers before everything goes dark is the horrorstruck faces of his flat mate and the 20-year-old's boyfriend, swimming before his eyes. Then he goes unconscious.

* * * * *

Michael crouches at a corner of the room and peeks up at a glowering Tom. Shit… Why did I say that? But even he himself cannot provide an answer to why he had to fuck Alex, or why he accused the man he loved so dearly. Alex is gone now, and the blur of the incident that just happened before him replays in his head. It's all my fault… all my fault… Michael starts rocking back and forth on his heels in despair.

Gradually, Tom calms down, his rapid angered heaves slowing down to a regular breathing. "You okay there?" He kneels down beside the guilt-stricken Michael (who to Tom seems only to be extremely terrified) and asks gently. He offers a helping hand to help Michael stand up and ushers him towards the bed. Michael lets himself be lead towards the bed (at this he thinks of Alex again) and sits down. Tom is still staring caringly at him, but he knows he can't return the gaze without breaking down, and so chooses to look down towards his bare feet, twiddling his thumbs a bit.

Tom, seeing Michael's inability to speak, ducks his head a little to peer at the latter's ashen face. "Um… Are you okay? You're scaring me." Michael grimaces and looks away. "I'm… fine…" He says in a rush, standing abruptly and turns to leave the room. "Hey, hold on there," Tom says, stopping the older male, "Where will you stay at now?"

Shit, I can't go back to Charlie's to face Alex now, the thought flashes through his mind and keeps him nailed to the spot. "C'mon, you can settle down here first," Tom continues, his voice full of concern, completely oblivious to what is going on in the American's head. "You can stay until Alex--" He stops short, and struggles to calm the anger from bubbling inside him again. Finally, he exhales long and hard, and without another word, starts rummaging around his wardrobe for spare pillows and blankets. "You can stay in Ed's room for now. I'll text him on that." And he strides out of the musical-instruments-littered room.

I'm so so so fucked up… Michael looks at the open doorway, his mind in a blaze. He wonders how Alex is right now… He should probably call to see if he's okay – wait, he hasn't even brought his stuff with him. And he's put himself in danger too – what if Tom suddenly decided that he should kick Michael out too? And what will happen when he finds out the truth? For once, Michael thanks Tom for his impulsive thick-headedness.

At least, when it holds everything together and keeps the bubble from bursting.

He sighs and shakes his head slowly, and walks out into the living room to locate the bluenette.

* * * * *

"Alex? Alex, are you alright?" The brunette opens his heavy eyelids to find Charlie's face greeting him. "Alex!" The younger male squeals in joy, "You're alive!" He immediately hops off the scrawnier of the two and runs off towards the other side of the room. "Ed! Ed!" A fuzzy set of footsteps follows, and Ed appears, walking behind the super excited Charlie. "He's okay!" Charlie hollers again. "Woah, woah, keep it down will 'ya?" Ed laughs, "I can't blame you for being hyper over our friend's safety. But it's almost midnight now." He half jokes, and leans over Alex. "Welcome back," he smiles warmly. Charlie scoots over with a warm cup of tea and hands it over to the severely bruised 23-year-old. Alex receives it with a nod and a grin brimming with gratitude, but his shaky hands spill the steaming liquid inside. "Careful," Charlie helps Alex to hold it while the latter drains it down hungrily. "Thank you guys," Alex croaks weakly, feeling better already.

The couple, after much caring for their injured friend, decides to give him some space and leaves Alex to himself on the couch. They walk silently back to the en suite bedroom, for Ed has left all his stuff in there. "I should probably get going…" he talks, though not really meaning it. Charlie puts on his famous puppy eyes, blinking at his boyfriend pleadingly. "Please, can you stay for tonight? I don't want to be all alone…" Ed purses his lips as if he is going to say no, and then says, "Okay then. And don't you pull that face at me anymore – you're going to kill me with your adorableness." He pulls Charlie in to plant a light kiss on the forehead.

Just then, Ed's phone peeps its tiny got-a-message beep. He picks his phone up from the mess on the floor; the screen shows "Tom Milsom". What could it be? He checks the text message – it's Tom asking if Michael can stay at their place for the coming few weeks, specifically using his room. "What is it baby?" Charlie asks, seeing Ed's raised eyebrows at the message. "Oh, it's nothing. Just Tom asking if I'd give my room to Michael. To stay there."

"Are you going to let him?"

"Why not? Gives me an excuse to sleep with you anyway," Ed smirks, and settles his phone down on the toy-crowded desk of Charlie's. "You going to bed yet? It's pretty late." He doesn't want his sleep-loving boyfriend to stay up too late.

"Going to… But what about Alex?" Charlie replies, apparently worried about his flat mate's much-wounded state. "I really want to know how come he's ended up like that… but I don't want to probe my nose into his business and make him feel sad all again…"

"Let's wait till tomorrow. We'll see if Alex feels better by then," Ed reassures him. "Now go to sleep before you collapse!" He drags the almost-slumbering Charlie towards the bed and takes off his t-shirt. Then he crawls under the covers to snuggle up beside the drooling boy.

* * * * *

Michael tosses and turns, but he still can't fall asleep. It must be about three o'clock in the morning, but the events of the night are still whizzing through his head at a dizzying speed, giving him a terrible headache and insomnia. Finally he decides to get up and kill some time with the books in Ed's room. But as he flips through the pages, the words dance and float around to form nothing but gibberish, and only one sentence remains in Michael's mind: What am I gonna do? Sooner or later, Tom's going to find out the truth. Then where will he go?

* * * * *

Alex sits up groggily, but immediately flinches as the cuts on his arms and legs brush against the side of the couch. At the same time, his head throbs, and his whole body aches terribly. He manages to drag himself off the couch though, and he stumbles towards the bathroom to wash up. Brushing his teeth, he looks himself in the mirror for the first time after all the turmoil yesterday night, and notices a scar starting to form at the corner of his forehead. The shadows below his eyes are overwhelmingly dark, contrasting heavily with his pale face. This all makes him look like he's just been through hell and back. His every move hurts, and so, after a painful ten minutes of trying to clean himself, he surrenders, and shuffles back into the living room.

He arrives back into the living room to find Charlie and Ed up and about. "G'morning," Charlie chirps, a cup of tea in one hand, and a piece of toast in the other, "Feeling better?"

"Still pretty bad," Alex replies with a grimace whilst walking awkwardly back towards the couch to avoid his wounds from stinging again. "Good morning to you too," he nods at Ed, and sits himself down on the couch.

The other two lads walk over to where Alex is and sit beside him, each holding a mug. "Want one?" Charlie offers, but Alex declines with a wave of his hand. His sorrowful expression begins to surface again, and his two friends look at him worriedly. "Alex?" Ed inquires softly.

After a minute or two, Alex's eyes glistens, and a tear falls onto his lap. "Alex?" Charlie asks quietly, thoroughly frightened at his friend's behaviour. Then, as sudden as the teardrop, a huge sob racks his scrawny body, and Alex curls into a ball on the couch. Ed reaches over an arm to rub Alex on his back maternally, whilst signaling Charlie with his other hand to go get some tissue. Charlie stands up frantically, and dashes off to find the tissue box.

"Take deep breaths," Ed whispers, trying to get Alex to sit up and calm down. Eventually the curley-haired man unfolds himself and lets himself be comforted. His shoulders still shake uncontrollably, and his breath still ragged from the crying. Charlie walks with a cup of hot water to Alex, and hands him some tissue paper. "Are you fit enough to tell us what happened? Or do you want to just..."

"No, I'm fine," Alex insists, though still quite breathless. Then he retells the experience to his two friends.

* * * * *

"Urrrgh…" Tom reaches over his bed to slam his hand against his alarm clock. Usually he would be up making breakfast immediately, but today he can barely think straight. He's extremely disorientated, probably a result from last night's tumult. He scuffs out into the living room, squinting his eyes at the blaring sunlight. "Hi," he mumbles, turning around to see Michael sitting crossed-leg on the sofa. "Mornin'," Michael replies, and turns back towards the laptop on his lap, "Do you have any coffee?"

"I'm afraid not. Only tea. That okay with you?"

"Tea will do." Speaking, Michael sets his laptop aside to saunter over towards the kitchen. "No, I'll make it," Tom kindly offers, and walks into the kitchen. The rhythmical pattern of clicking and beeping of Michael's computer ensues.

The clang of the stainless steel teaspoons against the mugs seems to wake the bluenette a bit. As he stands there stirring, his thoughts slowly drift from random to-do things of the day towards the fight he had with Alex. His eyes turn slightly red, and sniff escapes from under his fringe. Nevertheless, he runs his mind through the order of the events, trying to make sense of why and how his ex and Michael would be in his flat. He barely recalls a voice telling Alex to get dressed quickly before Tom opens the door – wasn't that voice… Michael's? Then again, I could've imagined it in the mess – but I'm sure I heard it! Realisation hit him then. It had been Michael all along.

A loud smash echoes in the quiet morning. The smash of ceramics against the tiled floor of the kitchen. "Tom?" Michael appears at the doorway. He does a double take at the sight in front of him – a cup is shattered on the floor, and tea spilled everywhere. But the bluenette doesn't reply; instead, his whole body jerking in fury, he looks up slowly. His look is murderous, like he's ready to kill…

"You, you – bitch!"

* * * * *

"So, that's what happened." Alex finishes his account with a disheartened sigh. Tears threaten to blur his sight again, and he blinks hard. Beside him, his two friends are just as speechless, jaws dropping to the ground in awe at Michael's outrageous actions.

"But you can't just let him get away with that!" Charlie finally exclaims, still not quite believing what he just heard. "I mean, you let him rape you and then --" Charlie flails his arms around wildly, and stops talking, not quite knowing how to continue with his sentence. But Alex only keeps on shaking head, and staring down at his feet. "He's right," Ed says sensibly, "You need to do something. What do you say, I call Tom now --"

"No! Don't… He'll just come and tear me up again…" Alex whimpers, his face all scrunched up like a little boy that's just gotten into trouble.

"No. I have to. You have to," Ed says firmly, "Now listen. We'll all head back to my flat and confront Michael. We have to do something before it's too late." And without further explanation, grabs Alex by the arms and ushers him towards the door. Charlie walks on the brunette's other side, making sure he doesn't escape. Alex gives up trying to protest, and walks fearfully down the streets with his two friends sandwiching him.