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CHAPTER THIRTY THREE: happiness

The pain pulsating beneath Corey's fresh bruises tried to yank him from his slumber. His tossed and turned and clung onto the warm body that was sharing the bed. Eventually the discomfort grew so unbearable that he jolted awake.

Dorian glanced down at him with a gentle expression, "Hey." He whispered.

Corey groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as he nuzzled back into the pillow, "I'm sorry." He murmured almost indistinguishably. Everything came flooding back to him and a crushing wave of self loathing threatened his sanity.

Dorian ran his fingers over Corey's clothed shoulder blades, rubbing his back soothingly, "What happened?" His voice was soft but firm. He wanted to comfort him but at the same time, he was desperate for facts. He'd been laying awake for two hours, just cuddling his boyfriend and waiting for him to wake up. He'd been left alone with his thoughts, conjuring all sorts of theories and ideas about what Corey had been through.

"I don't wanna talk about it." Corey peeked up from where the sheets were pulled up over his face.

"I'm sorry, Corey, but you're going to have to talk about it." Dorian tried to be understanding, but his voice was shaking with anger. Every time he looked at that bruise, he got more and more frustrated. "Tell me what happened."

Corey winced at his harsh tone, shifting into an upright position. Dorian twisted around until they were sitting cross legged, face to face. There was no avoiding his expectant glare. "D-Dorian, you don't need to worry. I'm okay and it won't happen again—"

"Listen, Corey, I'm going to worry, whether you like it or not. So, tell me what the fuck happened to your face."

"You don't have to be such an arsehole about it—"

"You scared the shit out of me!" Dorian defended. "You weren't answering any of my calls and you never showed up to Velvet's. You owe me an explanation."

Corey's eyes welled with tears and Dorian instantly regretted being so careless. He should have at least made an attempt to be sensitive towards the situation. "I-It was my boss." He breathed out. "He grabbed me a-and...and hit me. He was gonna...h-he was gonna..." He broke into sobs and sprung forward into Dorian's arms, squeezing him as tight as he possibly could, desperate for that momentary feeling of security.

Dorian's eyes widened as he held the shaking boy close to his heart, stoking his hair soothingly. He wanted to clench his fists and hit something. He wanted to scream and see blood. But the crying boy in his arms needed him, and in that moment he vowed to never let Corey down. "I'm sorry." He whispered. "What was he going to do to you?"

Corey sniffed but refused to break the hug, "H-He was going to rape me." He mumbled into Dorian's shoulder.

And if Dorian thought he was angry before, now he was raging. He was inflamed with fury. All he could see was red; he was blinded by it. "I'm so sorry." Dorian almost cried out for his boyfriend's pain. He felt physically agonised by it. "You're okay? You're...You're safe? He didn't...?"

"H-His Mum came in." He sniffled, "I ran."

Dorian had nothing else to say. No words could make this okay. Nothing he did would succeed in cheering him up, and Dorian wasn't even sure if that was what Corey needed right now. Maybe he needed to cry and be hugged and loved and told how much he means to the world. He needed to hurt and he needed the pain, because telling Corey that everything will be okay would be lying to him. There was no use pushing his feelings aside because Corey didn't need to get over it — he needed to get through it.

They weren't sure how long they stayed like that, just touching each other, hugging each other, loving each other. Finally, Corey's tears dried and his heart didn't ache quite so much. He offered Dorian a sad but grateful smile and the pair migrated downstairs. Dorian put on a movie, grabbed a couple of blankets and dimmed the lights. As they burnt through film and film after film, the clock ticked away in the corner. Soon it was almost two AM, but neither were tired enough for sleep. Corey had slept all afternoon and the aggravation festering in Dorian's chest kept him alert and wide awake.

"Corey?" Dorian hummed softly as the credits rolled. He had his arm draped loosely over his shoulder and the blankets were tugged tightly over their bodies.

"Yeah?"

"Do you wanna come out at school?"

Corey tilted his head up to look at him properly, his face illuminated by the flickering television screen, "Do you?"

"I think so." Dorian answered. "But only if you do."

"A-Are you sure you're ready?" He asked uncertainly.

"You mean so much to me, Corey. Ever since my Mum left, you've kept me grounded. You're the first person I've ever really loved and...fuck, I'm not good at all this soppy shit, but I know I don't want to hide this away anymore." He sighed, struggling to force his words out. "It's not that I have an overwhelming desire to come out, but...I don't care if people know about us or not; it doesn't affect me. Because this — us — is ours."

Corey snuggled up closer, "Dorian, you know I've never cared about what other people think." He whispered, "If you want to, let's do it."

Dorian grinned and swooped down to plant a firm kiss on his lips, "Thanks, babe."

"Stop calling me that." Corey pouted.

"But your reaction is so cute." He laughed.

Corey slung his legs over Dorian's lap and stretched out spiritlessly. "Can we go to the beach tomorrow?" He queried, turning the TV off and releasing a yawn.

"Really? It'll be freezing."

"Sleepy British seaside towns are always freezing. It's part of their charm."

Dorian yawned too, "I'll take you. Whatever you want, babe."

Corey didn't even bother scolding him.

They shared Dorian's Mother's bed that night, clinging to each other's body heat as they curled up under layers of blankets and duvets. The heating didn't work in the house, so they shivered and and complained throughout the night, but as long as they had each other, they didn't need warmth.

They took the train down to the coast the next day. It was an hour long journey and Dorian's motorbike just didn't appeal to them. It would have been cold and loud and uncomfortable. So, the train just seemed like the preferable option. They sat side by side, sharing headphones and feeling the shaky vibrations of the carriage, wrapped up warm in their coats and gloves.

The sea was grey and murky, rippled with high waves crashing against the shore. Sprays of salty water sparked the air and frothed up in foamy bubbles. The sky was as dark and gloomy as the water, and the pebbled beach was vacant of any visitors. As they strolled along the stone pathway laid out parallel to the water's edge, Dorian wove his cold fingers through Corey's. They walked hand in hand like a real couple in a place where no one knew them. They felt free; like the door to their cage had been left open and they had the opportunity to taste fresh air for the first time.

They sat on the stony beach, shuddering in the icy wind as they tossed stones into the caliginous abyss of violent waves and bitter sea water. Corey tugged his woolly hat over his ears and twisted around to look up at his boyfriend, "Can we get an ice cream?"

Dorian rose his brows, "You've got to be kidding."

Corey fixed his attention back on the aggressive rolling of the unforgiving sea. "It's something my grandma and I used to do." He sighed. "She'd take me to the seaside and we'd have ice cream, whatever time of year it was." He explained. "I don't have many good memories from my childhood, but that was one."

Dorian smiled pitifully. Corey's past consisted of nothing but violence, heartache and death. He would happily aid him in a journey to reconstruct a bittersweet memory from his youth.

The soothing walk to the pier consisted of laughter and cheap jokes. Somehow, the cold air had drawn the energy from their hearts, and they felt like a beautiful pair of beautiful boys. They laughed and smiled and kissed and loved. At one point, Dorian pulled the other boy onto his back and gave him a piggy back ride until they reached the next row of groynes. There weren't many people around, but the few that were gave them strange looks. A couple of dog walkers, an elderly couple and a family with a picnic all passed them by. Some smiled, and they received a friendly wave from a toddler, but the others merely watched them like they were crazy. Perhaps it was because they loved each other, or perhaps it was because they weren't afraid to show it off.

The long wooden pier stretched far into the brooding sea, held up by creaky, rotting stilts piercing the ocean floor. It was lined with fish and chip stands, ice cream shops and a long stretch of arcade games full of loud noises and dark lighting. It was the typical British seaside town; tacky, cheap, sleepy and run down. But — like the rest of them — it had a certain raffish charm to it. The decadence was endearing, and a sweet atmosphere of childish joy hung in the air.

Corey had walked this pier many times, his small hand enveloped in his grandmother's. He wouldn't be thinking about the arguing parents he'd left at home, or the bruise he'd noticed on his Mother's face the night before. He was thinking about which ice cream flavour he wanted and wondering how cold the sea would be if he were to jump in. Not much had changed. Today, his hand was linked with Dorian's and his thoughts were on nothing but the presence they shared and the pocket of peace they had found.

The pier hadn't changed a bit, but he had. He was no longer that carefree young boy, so polluted at such a young age. He was more contaminated; contaminated by life, by his boss, by his parents. And yet, none of that mattered. Not now, not here.

Dorian paid for their ice creams and they seated themselves on a rickety old bench overlooking the sea. At they ate, and their bodies grew steadily colder, they shifted closer together. "Babe?"

Corey didn't divert his focus away from the rough sea spread out in front of him, "Yeah?"

Dorian took a deep breath, preparing himself to finally confront the one thing he and Corey hadn't been totally honest about, "What are those notes? Eat?"

Corey froze, and stopped licking his strawberry ice cream. And yet, he still refused to look at the boy beside him, "How do you know about those?"

"They fell out your bag. I'm sorry."

Corey didn't reply instantly. He brought the cone up to his lips and continued eating contently. Then he released a long breath and turned to look Dorian directly in the eye. "I used to struggle with eating — y'know, skipping meals and stuff. The more depressed I was, the worse my appetite got. I started writing myself little reminders but it turned into a compulsion. Every morning I'd write a new one and every night, just before I went to sleep, I'd rip it up and throw it away. Then I'd do the whole thing again." He finished, then paused to have more ice cream. "You don't need to worry, Dorian. I don't do it anymore, I eat like a normal person now."

Dorian tightened his grip around him and smiled silently to himself, "I'm really happy that you're happy."

Corey thought back to the conversation they'd shared so many memories ago. Their first 'date' that wasn't really theirs. They'd snuck away from the arcade and the bright lights and their overbearing friends. They'd found an ice cream parlour with peeling paint and growing mould pulsating beneath the wallpaper. They'd bonded. They'd fallen. They shared ice cream; strawberry and rum and raisin, just like they were doing right now. And they'd talked about happiness.

"It's all fake. True happiness isn't real." That's how naive Corey had been. "Happiness can't mend a broken person." And how wrong he had been. Maybe love didn't fix everything — it didn't heal scars and vanish painful memories. But happiness did. Happiness was the real cause, and Dorian had been behind it all. And along the way, they'd happened to fall in love.

"I'm not going to be happy, Dorian. But maybe I don't have to be sad."

"I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy."

"You can't—"

"Watch me."

Seconds later, Corey had smiled for the first time in what felt like his entire life. And Dorian had fulfilled his promise.

I want to make you happy.

He had done just that.


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