Two Mates (bxbxb)

Okay so this is a story I wrote in high school in 2016, got banned on Wattpad for (at 4 million reads, no big deal), and have been mortifyingly teased by my friends over. So. I’m not confident I want to republish it, but what the hell?

I’m making the poor decision of not editing a word. This story is a time capsul. It’s probably emotionally scarring to people who didn’t ship Wincest on Tumblr in 2012. It’s not an exaggeration to consider it a hazard to literature.

Enjoy!

P/N (WARNING): There will be no italics or formatting edits due to my unabashed laziness. Oh and also, incest.

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Elliott's POV

When I woke up this morning, I sure as hell did not expect that today I'd walk in on two brothers making out. Nope. I had woken up, rolled out of bed, did my makeup, dressed in an outfit fashionable enough for the Elliott Davis, and hopped in my car. I drove off, not realizing that my entire innocence was about to be crushed into tiny, dusty pieces.

Just kidding. What innocence?

... Alright, two brothers making out in the school bathroom was a little racy, even for me. My innocence was crushed.

It wasn't typical for me to be entering the school's disgusting cum-covered, cockroach-infested bathroom, but my friend Stella told me that my eyeliner was smudged, so I had to fix it! I pushed open the door to the men's bathroom right next to the smelly gym, and boom! There they were. Tate and Oliver Moore, the school's scariest and the school's most popular boy respectively. The dynamic duo of darkness and light, of most-likely-to-be-a-serial-killer and most-likely-to-be-famous, of night and day. The twins that the girls want and the guys want to be.

Full on. Making. Out. In the bathroom. In the bathroom! Who does that? Gross!

"Uh..." I said, in a highly intelligent manner. They ripped apart from each other and turned on me, and I froze every muscle in my body. Two pairs of striking green eyes dug into my soul. "Don't beat me up! Please don't beat me up! I'll leave! ... Wait, actually, I can't leave because I have to fix my makeup, but after that I swear I'll leave!"

Tate was utterly silent. Not surprising. There was actually a rumor going around that he spoke once, but I didn't believe it for a hot second. All the guy did was stand around, glaring and flexing the muscles under his leather jacket and looking like a total snack.

His piercing eyes narrowed and his jaw muscles tightened. Scratch that—this guy was no snack, he was the full meal.

He lifted his arm to angrily run a hand through his short, black hair... and the bottom of his shirt rode up. Yeah... maybe a buffet table.

"Elliott Davis?" That was the sunshiney twin speaking. Wait. The hyper-athletic, hockey-player heartthrob Oliver Moore knew my name?

"Uh, yeah? You know me?" I asked, utterly dumbfounded. I mean, he was athletic and sweaty and beefy and stuff. I was very gay and did not enjoy being manhandled unless I was being manhandled where it counts. Our types just did not mix.

"Of course, we have art together," he said. He ran a hand through his longer mess of black hair. Must've been a family quirk or something. "Listen... I don't know what you thought you just saw..."

"You were kissing."

"Ha! Ha ha! That's what I thought you might've thought, but that's not actually the case," Oliver sputtered. He was developing a sweet little red flush to the tops of his cheeks. "I was dying, actually. Choking. Um, Tate was doing CPR to save me so you kind of have to touch mouth-to-mouth for those sorts of things, so..."

I blinked. "Wow. Um. No, you were kissing. It's cool. I really just want to fix my makeup, so if you don't mind..."

I dropped my makeup bag onto the counter and stared at my own reflection. Blonde hair, curly. Blue eyes. A freckle underneath my right eye. Oh and yup, right there, right in my eyes: crushed innocence. Oh, and smudged makeup too. Awesome.

I watched the twins exchange a glance in the reflection. Both of their eyes turned to me, awkwardly making eye contact through the mirror. Silence had never been more painfully obvious to me.

Wow, this was the most awkward moment of my whole entire 17 years of living.

I pulled out a makeup remover wipe and swiped away the eyeliner at the corner where it was smudged. Carefully, I began to redraw the perfect line.

"So, listen, Elliott... You can't really tell anyone about this, ya know?"

"Oh believe me, I never want to talk about this ever again. With anyone. So that works out then." I zipped up the bag, now finished, and turned to them.

Oliver was still looking at me from under long lashes. He played with the frayed bottom of his Celtic's jersey. "So... you won't tell?"

"Oh, uh, no! Definitely not," I said, thinking of how quickly I could get to my best friend Stella. ... And maybe Jordan, oh and Ryan was definitely cool enough to know.

Tate scowled at me and I felt my knees go weak. He touched Oliver's wrist with two fingers and a thumb; a small gesture, but coming from someone like him, it attracted everyone's attention.

He met my eyes evenly and they were hard as stone. "He won't tell."

My mouth parted and I felt a small shiver run down my spine. "I won't." This time, I meant it. "I swear. Are we done here?" I tapped one foot in my maroon Van's, covering my nerves with impatience.

Tate was mute again. Oliver sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, we are. You can leave now."

You better believe I left as fast as I could. I ran my tight little booty all the way back to the lunchroom, where my friends greeted me like I was an idiot.

"You good, Davis?" Matt scoffed when I gasped and crumpled down on the seat.

"NO! No, I am so not good, Mattie," I plopped my head on his shoulder and he rolled his eyes. Matt was prickly, but also athletic, so his cushiony bicep was worth putting up with his personality. Just kidding, I loved him. "Where's Stella? I just need my best friend right now!"

The group of people collectively rolled their eyes, because they were jealous that I was Stella's besty.

"She went to get a second serving of mashed potatoes," Ryan, the goth of the group, informed me. "Seriously, boo, you okay? I think you might be sweating."

"Shut up Ryan, I hate you and I never want to talk to you again."

"Yeah guys, it must've been bad if Elliott actually took part in physical activity," Jordan said. Then they were laughing and poking my beautiful hair and cooing.

I whimpered and I'm pretty sure Ryan went aww. They loved me. They were meanies but they loved me. "This is why I need Stella! She isn't monstrous. She doesn't make fun of me."

"Oh please, you know we love you," Jordan scoffed. He leaned over and kissed my cheek, so I reluctantly emerged from the comfort of Matt's shoulder.

"Okay, I'm back and wondering why it took my boy seventeen years to fix a cat eye."

"STELLA!"

I leapt from the table and barely made it into her arms without knocking over her potatoes. Everyone at the table groaned.

"Get a room," Matt grumbled.

"Why don't you love us like that, Elliott?" Ryan whined.

I ignored them all. "You don't even know what I just witnessed! Oh Goddess, you can't even imagine the horror! The absolute treachery! Every scale of hotness has been tipped!"

... My resolve was weakening.

"Okay, what was it?" Stella asked, with a sympathetic pout and two light taps to my cheek.

"Actually..." ohhh my goddesssss, "I can't particularly..." stay... strong, "tell you?"

Matt barked a laugh. "My money's on him lasting maybe a day. Maybe."

My whole body was vibrating. Must... gossip...

"Ten minutes," Ryan said, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "Ten minutes max."

"The gossip queen of Kingston High, keeping a secret?" Jordan gave a delicate gasp. "I'm shook."

"Stop saying shook, Jordan," I said.

And it was at that moment when my eyes wandered to the most terrifying sight. There he was: Tate Moore, standing across the cafeteria with the evillest glare known to man. And man-wolf. And it was directed at me.

That was all I needed. "Uh, guys? I gotta go. I seriously have to pee."

For the second time that day, I booked it out of a room like a total spaz. However, I did not realize my grave mistake until a stern voice from behind me said, "Stop. Stop running."

I just barely, just barely, avoided wetting my pants.

"Um, hi!" I turned on my heel and flinched when I realized Tate was right behind me. Like. Right behind me, easily five inches away at most.

"Why did you leave?" His voice was deep and his stare was made of steel. Ho boy, this guy was sexy in a bend over my knee this instant young man kind of way.

I was... so into that.

"Please don't kill me!" I blurted, throwing my hands up to protect my face from a punch. I waited. After a solid ten seconds of blank silence, I lowered my hands and opened my eyes. He had literally done nothing. "Are you... not going to kill me?"

"You keep assuming I want to harm you."

"... Yes?"

His scowl somehow got even more scowly. "Go back to the lunchroom. You didn't eat."

"I'm sorry!" I squeaked. "I'll go, um, eat!"

His expression didn't change at all. I inched away slowly, and there was still no change. I wasn't sure what I was expecting. A dismissal, maybe? Some sign that he wouldn't choke me out as I made my way past him?

"Uh..." I took a step past him and glanced at his expression again. Nope, no change. One more step. "Okay, I'm going now, is that okay?" Still, nothing.

It was only when my back was turned, reluctantly, and I began to pick up my pace, that he said, "You remind me of a hamster."

I whirled around. "Excuse me?"

He had turned around as well and was staring at me. "Small, timid, and can be picked right up."

"Is that... is that a good thing, or..."

"And thrown. Really far."

"OkAY, then, goodbye!"

That officially made it three times I ran out of a room that day. And with sexy-but-scary Tate walking around, I assumed it wouldn't be my last.