Unlikeable You

Chapter Eight

Trigger Warning: Mentions of abuse

Tyler didn’t sleep that night. Instead, he spent his time trying to ignore what had happened to him as he tended to his wounds. He looked in the mirror. The coloration of his skin ensured there'd be bruises by morning. His neck was already ruined. He touched the tender, purpled skin and hissed as it stung. He’d have to wear something to cover it—a turtleneck with a hoodie over it, maybe. It wasn’t something unusual for Tyler, but he knew that Daniel knew what it meant. 

Daniel—even the mere thought of him struck fear in Tyler. Fear that his father would come in and do the same thing again. All that again just for thinking about him. Tyler tried to shake the thought as his fingers began to tremble once again. He had thought of texting or calling Daniel. He thought of begging Daniel to help him, to save him, but quickly remembered his father’s words. 

“I’ll f*****g kill him for real.”

Tyler’s hands were rendered useless as they shook in fervor. He was a mess. He loved Daniel but was beginning to fear him at the same time. Tyler feared being beaten to near-death again, he feared getting his friend killed. Could Daniel even be his friend anymore? This had to have been the final straw, even if Daniel had no say. Tyler wouldn’t survive next time, he knew that. It was either him or Daniel’s life if they talked again. He didn’t want to play with those odds.

Tyler had finished his bandaging a few hours ago. Now, he laid on his bed with ice packs galore around him. He tried to close his eyes but flashes of intrusive thoughts haunted him each attempt. His father. Daniel. The repercussions of doing what Tyler wanted. So Tyler sat like always, staring at the ceiling as he waited.

Soon enough dawn spilled through Tyler’s windows, signaling for him to get ready for school. His ice packs had melted long ago, but he had decided not to change them. Instead, he got dressed, grabbed his things, and left. Tyler left much earlier than usual, missing any signs of Daniel. He did it both to be safe and to escape his friend’s worry. His ex-friend’s worry, at that.

Once Tyler arrived at school he sat in the busy cafeteria as he waited. Concealer sat on his face as a temporary fix for the bruises, which he tried his hardest not to rub it off. Tyler wanted to, though. He wanted to show someone what was happening to him, show someone who could do something. But he couldn’t. He feared his father getting a simple slap on the wrist. It had happened once when Tyler was a kid—a teacher got a little too worried about the bruises on Tyler’s arms—and it resulted in nothing but harsher beatings. It was mere luck for that man; the situation with Daniel proved that too.  Tyler sat in anguish over his situation, begging for school to start so that it’d quickly come to an end.

Tyler arrived at one of his classes, the familiar wave of anxiety rising in his gut. Daniel would come and see him after class, and Tyler would have to ignore him. There was no use trying to explain it to Daniel, no use trying to sneak around. When his father would ask, Tyler would break. The man always saw right through him—the pitiful sin of being father and son. 

Tyler took his seat in his usual spot, Emilia already sitting in her seat.  

“Good morning, Tyler,” she greeted, a familiar smile on her face. Tyler tried his best to give a genuine one in return.

“Good morning.”

“Tired? You look like you didn’t sleep much.” She gave a small frown. I didn’t. 

He tried to blow it off. “Just a rough night, I guess.” He chuckled at the understatement. Emilia tilted her head.

“Everything okay?” she asked. Tyler was slightly taken aback by the question but quickly recovered. He gave a swift nod.

“Yeah, thanks for asking.”

The end of class rolled around eventually, and Tyler quickly got up from his seat to leave. Him and Emilia said their goodbyes as he grabbed his things.

“See you tomorrow, Tyler.” Emilia smiled. Tyler nodded.

“You, too, Emilia.” Tyler rushed out the door and made his way down the hallway. He walked at a brisk pace—not too fast to cause attention, not too slow to be easily caught. In an attempt to evade Daniel, he walked a different way than usual, failing when Tyler felt a grab at his arm. 

“Hey.” Tyler was pulled back, wincing at the grasp on last night’s bruises. He turned to see Daniel. The boy’s eyebrows were furrowed as he examined Tyler. Tyler’s eyes widened as he tried to pull away to escape. “Did he hit you?”

Tyler was halted. He couldn’t even make an excuse. Daniel knew. He already f*****g knew.

Tears began to sting Tyler’s eyes. His throat burned as he held back his rising tears. He couldn’t cry. Not now, not here. He needed to get away from Daniel—stay away from Daniel. He gave one last pull on his arm and Daniel let go.

“Tyler—”

“Don’t worry about it. And don’t talk to me.” Tyler was blunt. Daniel gave a face of surprise and tried to say something more, but Tyler had already walked away.

I’m sorry.

Tyler did his best to escape Daniel the rest of the day, whether blatantly ignoring him or going out of the way to not see him. It hurt to do so, but he had to. Once the end of the day rolled around, Tyler quickly tried making his way home. Of course, Daniel stopped him before he made it there.

“Tyler.” Daniel grabbed his wrist, stopping him before he walked out the school door. He didn’t respond. Daniel let out a tsk and pulled them into a more secluded area. He turned to Tyler, facing them toward each other. “Tyler, please talk to me.” There was still no response. Daniel looked around, then looked back at his friend. “Nobody’s here, Ty.” He sounded desperate. “Your dad isn’t—”

“Don’t f*****g say that,” Tyler seethed. His hands began to tremble.

“I’ll f*****g kill him for real.” 

“Tyler,” Daniel spoke gently. He grabbed Tyler’s hand. The latter tried to pull away, but Daniel held on tight. “Tyler, he’s really not here, okay? So please don’t just shut me out like this.” Emotion came in waves as tears rolled down Tyler’s cheeks, and he let out a sob. It hurt. Everything hurt.

“I can’t—” Tyler shivered. He rubbed his face with his free hand unconsciously. Some of the concealer rubbed off with his tears. He mumbled pitifully, “Fuck.”

“So he did hit you. Again,” Daniel stated. Tyler was void of a response. That in itself was an answer. Daniel’s grip on Tyler’s hand tightened. He looked down at the ground.

“I can’t talk to you Daniel—not anymore.” Tyler sniffed. “My dad he...he—” Tyler choked another sob again, covering his face with his arm.

Daniel grabbed Tyler and pulled him into a tight embrace. Tyler broke. “I’m sorry Ty,” Daniel spoke quietly. The smaller boy trembled in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

Tyler desperately grasped onto Daniel, fear-struck of being torn apart and beaten again. He needed to push him away, to abandon him, but Daniel was the only one who knew. Daniel was the only one who understood. Tyler allowed himself to selfishly indulge in his desires a while longer.

A few moments passed before Tyler calmed down, reluctantly pulling away from Daniel. He heard a door shut in the distance, reminding him it was time to go home.

“I have to go now. He’ll get suspicious,” Tyler explained. Daniel nodded in understanding. He wanted to hold Tyler close again but knew he couldn’t. It would only hurt Tyler more. It would only hurt them both more. Daniel felt useless—he couldn’t protect Tyler, couldn’t save him, couldn’t have him—and he didn’t know what to do. All he could do was hope and wait.

“Okay. I have practice soon, anyways. Get home safe, okay?” Daniel said.  Tyler sheepishly nodded. He let out a deep breath.

“See you around, I guess.” Tyler let out a sad laugh. Daniel mirrored it with a gentle smile.

“Yeah, see you around.”

Tyler walked into his home, dropped his stuff in his room, then went to the bathroom. He wiped off all the remaining concealer, removing his clothes to examine the marks. The bruises had grown ugly colors over the day, black and blues painting his body like a canvas. Tyler grimaced at the state of his body and turned on the shower, hoping the heat could make him forget—even if just for a while. Tyler didn’t leave the shower until the water ran cold. His body was scalding, but he felt relieved.  He had a clear head. He could finally breathe.

Tyler laid on his bed and busied his mind with music and his schoolwork, humming along with a familiar tune. He tried not to think about Daniel. Every time his mind would drift, he’d turn the volume up and focus on his work a little harder. It was a hard task but it was bearable. Tyler would have to get used to it, he knew that. He couldn’t spend every waking hour worried about Daniel as he wanted. All it would do was damage the both of them—even more than they already were now.

“Out!” the coach called out as Daniel missed the third pitch of the practice match. He was distracted. How could he focus on practice when Tyler was at home? After what had happened after school? His head was flooded with thoughts of one boy, and his plays were facing the consequences. Daniel walked back to the rest of his team and sat down. “Everybody take a fifteen,” the coach instructed. Many of Daniel’s teammates got up to chat with other players or get some communal water. Daniel stayed sitting down. 

The coach approached him. “Daniel.”

“Yes, coach?”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but get your s**t together.” The statement was simple, but Daniel knew it was a threat. An added ‘or else’ would be more appropriate.

“Sorry, I—” Daniel stopped himself. He couldn’t tell his coach about what happened. It wasn’t even his story to tell. Not that the man would care, anyways. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I want you in for the next game. You’re good, you know that. But playing like this... I don’t know if I can,” the man spoke honestly. Daniel nodded. He knew he was playing shitty. Hell, he wasn’t even remotely focused on the game. He rubbed his own face and let out a deep breath.

“I’ll do better.”

Tyler was finishing up his last assignment when he heard the front door open. A light wave of fear washed over him but he did his best to suppress it. He knew an interrogation was coming. He needed to prepare himself.

“Tyler?” his father called. Tyler reluctantly got up and opened his bedroom door.

“Yes?” 

“Come here.” Tyler followed the command, closing his bedroom door behind him. He made his way to the kitchen where his father stood. The man looked haggard—undeniably from the hangover he must’ve been feeling—and bothered. A bag of take-out sat on the counter. “Did you meet up with that boy?”

Tyler responded immediately, looking at the ground. “No sir.”

“Look at me when you’re talking to me.”

Tyler looked up, locking eyes with the man. He suppressed the tremble of his voice. “No, sir.”

“Why not?” the man asked. It sounded genuine. Tyler knew it was a trap.

“Because you told me not to.” Tyler awaited a response. When none came, Tyler replayed their current scenario to find any blemishes in his speech, any fault in his response. Had he sounded genuine enough? Did it seem like a lie? Tyler felt bile rise in his throat from fear, gulping it down as he waited.

“Good,” the man stated. Tyler would have let out a sigh of relief had he been alone. But his father could read him like a book. Luckily, Tyler hadn’t stated a complete lie. The man opened the take-out bag and tossed Tyler a box. “Eat it before it gets cold. I know you don’t eat at school and I don’t want you dying on me.” The familiar tune was sung every time Tyler’s father brought food home. It happened every so often, the same dismissal delivered every time. Tyler knew its familiarity. To the unknowing eye it seemed sweet. Tyler knew better. In reality, it was the surface level of repent from his father; a way to strip him of some of the guilt from beating his son. It was twisted and cruel, but Tyler dealt with it, anyway. He always had.