• now isn't forever •

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CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: now isn't forever

"Would you like whipped cream?" Corey asked the customer politely from over his shoulder.

"That'd be great, hun. Thanks." She replied.

He finished up the drink and slid the hot chocolate over the counter. She thanked him, paid, and took a seat with her two sons in the corner of the cafe. They hadn't received many customers today, and although Corey was thankful that it resulted in him having to do minimal work, he was always on edge when alone with Arthur. He preferred to be surrounded by other people — at least it meant he was safe.

Corey was wiping down the coffee machine where he'd spilt a jug of boiling milk. He was thinking about Dorian, like he so often was was. His boyfriend was at the gym with Ty today, and they were planning on all meeting up at Velvet's place later. He could hardly wait to finish his shift and get out of the sickly decorated shop. The pink frills and plastic flowers always succeeded in giving him a headache that refused to subside.

He flinched as his boss brushed past him, "How's it going, Corey?" Arthur asked, standing far too close for comfort.

"Good, thank you." Corey responded thickly.

"Keep it up." Corey could only picture the menacing smile ghosting the man's features. And then, Arthur's hand grazed his lower back and fell down to give him a firm squeeze.

Corey gulped and paled.

Did he seriously just grab my arse?

He forced himself to take a few deep breaths and calm down. He continued working while Arthur busied himself with the cake display. The rest of the day dragged on far too slowly for Corey's liking, but finally, it was time to close up. This was Corey's least favourite part of the day; he dreaded it. Arthur always locked the doors while they finished their cleaning and it made Corey incredibly uncomfortable. His hands shook and palms sweated as he mopped the floor, trying to finish as quickly as possible.

When he entered the stockroom to grab a fresh bin bag, he felt a presence behind him. "You worked great today." Arthur's tone was darker, and when Corey turned around, he caught a glimpse of hunger in his eyes.

"Thanks." He tried to shove past him but the older man grabbed his wrist. His mind flashed with images of his Father — squeezing him, pinning him down, hurting him until he screamed. It took everything Corey had not to cry.

"What's the rush?"

"My boyfriend's picking me up in ten minutes." He lied. He was planning on meeting Dorian at Velvet's. And now he was beginning to regret not asking his boyfriend to pick him up straight from work.

"Ten minutes is a long time." Arthur shot back hauntingly. "You can do a lot in ten minutes."

"We need to finish closing—"

Arthur threw Corey against the wall and he groaned in agony, crumbling to the floor. Suddenly, Arthur was his Father. And his Father wanted to hurt him.

"P-Please—"

"I know you want it." Arthur stood over him, tugging at his belt buckle purposefully. "You've wanted it from the day you walked in."

"N-No..." Tears were streaming down Corey's face as he stumbled to his feet. "P-Please don't do this—"

"Oh, but I want to. And I'm your boss — you do what I want." Arthur laughed sweetly. He suddenly seemed decades older than twenty-something. He was barely even human anymore; he was a monster, an animal, a beast. He was Corey's nightmare.

He wrapped his fingers around Corey's wrist and pulled the small boy towards him, almost making Corey trip over a broom. He slammed him against one of the creaky old fridges and slapped him across the face, hard. Corey whimpered and Arthur did it again.

"Will you stop crying, you fucking attention seeker?" Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't act like a little virgin all of a sudden. I see the way you act; you're just a slutty whore, so don't pretend you're not."

Corey cried out in pain as Arthur spun him around and smashed his face against the door of the fridge. His cheek was pressed up against the cold metal as Arthur pulled at his trousers impatiently.

"Arthur?" A gentle feminine voice called from the cafe, the sound of jingling keys rattling in her hand.

"Help!" Corey screamed, his lungs aching from the volume. "Please! He—!" A hand was slammed over his mouth and his screams turned to muffled cries.

When the woman entered the stockroom, Arthur pulled away hastily and smiled at her kindly, feeling very thankful that they were both still fully clothed. "Hi, Mum. I thought it was your day off."

Corey's face was bright red and streaked with tears, multiple bruises staining his wrists and blossoming on his face. He was staring wide eyed at the lady, suddenly at a loss for words.

She appeared to be in her mid to late fifties, her cropped silver hair bordering her friendly, wrinkled face. Her eyes were as dark as her son's and her thin eyebrows were carefully drawn on. Corey could have worked out who she was from a mile away. Her pink blouse and bright, sequinned pumps reflected her style perfectly — and it was the same style that the cafe was decorated with.

"This is Corey, the new boy." Arthur introduced, acting as though the scene she walked in on was completely normal. "This is my Mother, Talia. She owns the place. It's about time you two finally met."

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Talia asked worriedly, her eyes flickering between the beaten boy and her son.

"I-I...I..." Another wave of tears broke through and begun streaming down his cheeks. "I-I need to go." He rushed out, bolting past them and running straight for the door, his vision clouded and foggy.

As soon as he left, Talia's expression steeled as she placed her hands on her hips sternly. "Arthur, I swear to god if you—"

"I didn't do anything, Mum! He's just a whiny, emotional, little teenager."

"Do I really need to remind you about what happened with the last two Saturday people?" She warned.

"They weren't ready for a real job." He rolled his eyes incredulously.

"They both left within two months." She barked. "The last girl said you were 'creepy'. Do not make this new boy uncomfortable."

He huffed in exasperation and stormed out of the cramped stockroom to finish cleaning, wondering why his Mother had even bothered coming to check up on him in the first place.

When Corey was hit with the cool air of the emptying high street, he took a deep breath, his lungs stinging and flesh burning. He was struck with a sense of urgent panic, his heart beat throbbing in his throat as the need to throw up grew insatiable. He collapsed under the nearest bus shelter, not even bothering to glance at the bus timetable. He didn't care when it came or when he left, he just needed to breathe.

He debated calling Dorian, or Velvet, or even Micah. But he couldn't bring himself to speak to anyone. The pressure building in his chest would only grow, and he was sure to explode any second. He was already submerged in the foggy midst of a panic attack, and talking to someone would only throw him deeper into the pit of self loathing.

"Are you okay?"

He rubbed the tears from his eyes and pulled his gaze up to the boy hovering over him. He flinched and curled into a tighter ball, cowering away like a scared animal. It was someone from school, one of the boys who had tried ambushing him after the last rugby match. He vaguely remembered the name Eugene in the fuzzy background of his mind, but he couldn't be sure. Luckily, Micah had been there to rescue him last time. But today, he was alone.

"W-What do you want?" He stammered shakily.

"What happened to you face?" Eugene asked curiously, taking a seat on the wet concrete beside him. Town was virtually deserted, and all the small independent shops lining the high street were beginning to close for the day. Eugene was wearing a tracksuit as usual and his scruffy appearance was tainted with the smell of weed and cheap laundry powder.

Corey wasn't in the mood. He'd gone through enough as it was today, the last thing he needed was to deal with a homophobic bully from school. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to be curled up with his boyfriend, watching outdated cartoons and pretending they weren't racist and old fashioned. "N-Nothing." He sniffed, finally building the courage to answer his question.

"How do you do it?" Eugene blurted out, fiddling with an empty cigarette box he'd found buried in his pocket. "How do you do whatever you want without caring about what other people think?"

Corey glanced up at him skeptically, "Who is he?" He whispered.

"You won't know him." Eugene breathed out, ripping up the corners of the forgotten packet in his hand.

It all made sense to him. Everything Micah had told him that day all fit into place.

'They never picked on me when I was single, not once. The second I started dating Beau, suddenly I was getting beaten up every other day. As if it's okay to be gay as long as you're not actually fucking dudes.'

It was easy to be gay, to just exist with a secret festering within your consciousness. It was a personality trait, a little piece of your life. Being gay was about as meaningful as liking Harry Potter or having a favourite pizza topping. It was something as trivial as a mere preference. But when you find yourself being attracted to someone, suddenly, it isn't just a preference, it's who you are. It's everything.

Liking boys and dating boys was an entirely different experience.

Eugene was gay, but it was something he could ignore. But now he was actually interested in someone, his sexuality couldn't be ignored any longer. It's why he had taken such a disgust to Micah's relationship with Beau. He was living a life he envied. Being free and liberated. He possessed the confidence Eugene never had, the confidence to be himself — his true, unfiltered self.

"Does he know you beat people up for being gay?"

"I don't do that anymore." Eugene gulped. "I need you to tell me how to ask him out. Y'know...properly. So far, we've just been..."

"Fucking?" Corey sighed, his sobs finally beginning to subside. Somehow, Eugene had proved to be the perfect distraction.

"Yeah." He sighed.

"Why are you even telling me this?"

"Because I know you won't tell anyone." He explained. "If you did, I'd tell everyone about you and Price."

"I don't know what you're—"

"I saw you two kissing in the car park when you thought everyone had left. I had detention, I saw from the window." He said quickly. "Now, can you help?"

"Apologise to him." Corey advised reluctantly. "Say sorry for using him, and hurting him."

"It's not like I took advantage of him, we had a mutual agreement—"

"You still used him, even if he used you back." Corey interrupted. "Now, you're the idiot who's fallen in love. So, apologise."

Eugene didn't question how Corey knew their journey without even asking; he just nodded in agreement. "Okay, then what?"

"Say that you don't deserve him and you're being selfish for wanting him, but you can't help it. You love him and if he could give you even just a piece of his heart, you'd be happy. Maybe it won't be forever, but forever turns love sour. So just love each other now, however long 'now' may last."

Eugene's eyes were misty with distance as he absorbed Corey's words. He glanced down into his lap almost guiltily. "Thanks, Winters." He said quietly.

The bus pulled up at the stop and Corey stumbled to his feet, quickly catching his balance. He turned to Eugene one last time, "Don't fuck with him." He warned before climbing onto the bus and paying his fare.

He didn't go to Velvet's house, he didn't even pluck his phone out of his pocket to tell his friends where he was or why he was late. He just headed back to Dorian's house and cried himself to sleep.

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