"What's the point in everything you said because I have no idea what you are trying to say," Riley asked after a moment.
He tried to hold his composure, tried to sound neutral, but the frustration he was pushing down still slipped through his voice.
"Nothing, just wondering," his brother answered, his tone casual but his face betraying something else.
There was a smugness in his expression, a certain curl of the lips that looked like he was enjoying getting under Riley's skin.
Yet beneath it, his eyes carried suspicion, like he wasn't only throwing words out for fun, he was searching for something, waiting for Riley to slip.
"Okay, get the hell out of my room if you're just throwing around words for no real reason , I'm tired, I want to sleep." Riley said, still steady but still with quiet frustration threaded through his words.
He didn't want this conversation; he didn't want to peel it open any further. The pressure in his chest was already enough.
But Liam wasn't finished. He leaned back slightly, his smirk never fading, as if Riley's irritation was exactly the reaction he wanted. "Mia came over in the morning to look for you. I don't know why you just won't ask her out. It's clear she likes you that way, while you keep treating her like just a friend. I'm only eighteen, and I've dated at least five girls since high school. And you? Zero. Why do you keep turning girls off?"
His voice carried a teasing lilt, but the persistence behind his words hit Riley like sharp pokes to the ribs.
"I'm too busy for dating. Now get the out of my room, seriously." Riley replied flatly.
He grabbed his brother by the arm, pulling him off the bed, looking like just a game.
But Liam, stubborn as ever, kept talking even as Riley tried to force him away.
"Maybe Dad is right! Maybe something is wrong with you, just like Zane. And it's total madness. I mean, how can a guy like a guy that way?! Like how do you even kiss a guy or tou..." His words twisted sharper, crueler, spitting poison into Riley's ears. "Maybe they are right. You need to go to church with Grandma so you can get your ways back to right. Maybe you're actually a fag."
The word hung heavy in the room, venomous, cutting, freezing Riley in place for a full second.
His blood roared in his ears, his breath snagged in his chest, and then the sharp crack of anger surged, breaking him free.
Rage swept through him so hot and fast it left no room for thought. He slammed Liam against the wall, pinning him hard, his eyes blazing with fury.
"Something is wrong with me?!" Riley hissed, his voice trembling with the weight of his anger. His face was inches from his brother's, his grip unrelenting. "This is the last time you're going to talk to me like that, you hear me?!" His chest heaved with each breath, sharp and heavy, each word a lash of heat. "Get the f*ck out of my room!" His voice rose, shoving Liam toward the door.
Liam stumbled out, wide-eyed now, and the instant he was barely across the threshold, Riley slammed the door shut with such force that the frame rattled. The sound echoed through the walls.
His breathing was ragged, uncontrolled, and the anger inside him refused to slow down.
It twisted and clawed inside his chest, making his whole body shake. He turned to the wall and punched it hard, the impact sending pain slicing through his hand, but he didn't register it.. not fully. The pain wasn't enough to match what was raging inside him.
"How can a guy kiss a guy…" The words replayed in his head, repeating like a curse, burning through him.
And with it came the memory he couldn't bury, the accidental touch of his lips against Henry's. It had been nothing, a slip, something without meaning, yet it was unraveling him now as if it defined him entirely.
The thought alone made him punch the wall again, harder, and again until his knuckles split and blood smeared across the pale surface.
His fists throbbed, but he kept striking until exhaustion began to dull the rage just enough for him to hear himself breathe.
"It doesn't matter what anyone thinks," he muttered under his breath, each word harsh, almost broken. "I'm still me. I'm not gay, and just because I'm supporting my cousin doesn't make me one!" He spoke the words as though saying them louder, could make them truer.
But even as he told himself this, something inside him twisted with doubt. He hated it. He hated that the seed was there at all.
And all he wanted in that moment was to leave this house for good, to walk out and never return.
Because if this was what they whispered about him when he wasn't around.. if this was how they saw him.. then maybe he didn't belong here at all.
The thought burned like acid.
Eventually, drained, he collapsed onto his bed. He dragged the covers over himself as if they could shield him from all the doubt.
He closed his eyes tightly, squeezing them shut, and shoved his headphones on, blasting loud music into his ears.
The sound was deafening, but it wasn't enough. No matter how much he turned up the volume, the chaos inside his mind wouldn't silence.
At some point, exhaustion claimed him. He didn't know when his eyes drifted shut or when his clenched fists finally loosened, but he slipped into sleep with the music still echoing in his ears.
~
The sharp sound of his phone jolted him awake. The headphones had gotten off his head. He sat up suddenly, the music still faint in the background, his heart hammering from the abruptness of it.
Groggily, he reached for the device, his vision blurring for a second before the screen came into focus.
It was an unknown number calling.
Riley frowned, staring at it. Something in him told him to ignore it, but his eyes caught on another notification sitting above the call.
A message.. delivered just a minute ago. The number calling was the same one that message came from.
His eyes widen when realization hit him. The number. He knew who it belonged to.
He had texted Henry earlier that morning, just once, and then deleted the number immediately after. He had been sure it was gone. So why was the message only showing as delivered now?
The call ended before he could decide what to do. He stared at the screen, torn, uneasy. Then the phone buzzed again, the same number flashing, demanding his attention.
His hand shook slightly as he held it, but against his better judgment, he tapped the green button. The call connected.
Riley didn't speak at first, tension building with every second of quiet.
Then Henry's voice came through, clear, without hesitation, without even a greeting. "Someone wants to talk to you," he said, his tone quick, almost too quick, as if he was trying to move past his own presence.
Riley frowned with confusion. "Someone?!" he asked.
The silence stretched again, Henry's answer not immediate, and Riley's confusion deepened, tangled now with a rising unease that left his fingers gripping the phone tighter.