[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 8 (Patreon)

Warning for rape and violence. Please proceed with caution.

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Water floods into his lungs. He can't breathe. His body convulses as he trashes. Every breath burns as he desperately tries to get air into his protesting lungs. He's suffocating. Swallowing lungfuls of water through his nose and mouth, his screams turning into bubbles in front of his eyes, he realizes. So this is how drowning feels like.

Then, all of a sudden, he can breathe again. Gabriel gasps, choking and spluttering, taking gulps after gulps of much-needed air, at the same time coughing up water from his lungs. Shuddering violently, he takes in his surroundings. He's on his knees in front of a toilet bowl, the front of his t-shirt drenched. Water rolls off his hair and face as he pants, blinking water out of his eyes.

Someone grabs him by the arms and drags him back out, dropping him in the middle of the room. He stares around the restroom, taking in the blood splatter on the sink and the smudges on the floor around him. Five men are gathered around him. They look furious. One of them kicks him in the stomach. He groans, curling onto his side as he tries to make himself a smaller target.

"Fucking weak!" Another kick. Followed by another grunt of pain.

"Fucking useless, aren't you?" A sharp kick at his shoulder spins him onto his back.

"Taking cocks. That's all you're good at." Someone places their foot between his thigh, right above his flaccid penis and balls. "Bet you couldn't get it up even if you try," he taunts, applying more pressure. He whimpers as the man grinds the sole of his boots down onto his crotch. Writhing and squirming in pain, he grabs at the boots trying to push it away but it only comes down harder. He cries, the sound strangled, guttural. The man lifts his boots, smirking. Clutching his balls, he rolls to his side, legs closing in on itself.

Someone walks by his head, the boots stopping directly in front of his face. He flinches as whoever it is, moves but instead of kicking him in the face like he expected, he crouches down. Rough fingers grip his chin, jerking his head upwards. Gabriel stares blearily at the figure in front of him. Gordon. "Thank you for a good time, little bitch," he says, giving his cheek two firm pat. Then, without warning, his fist connects with his jaw forcefully, spit and blood flying as his head spins around. Gabriel collapses, knocking his head hard against the tiled floor.

"Time to hit the road, boys," he says as he wipes his hands on Gabriel's shirt. Standing up, Gordon steps over his body to the exit. The sounds of more footsteps follow.

The door bangs open and falls close with a soft click. Everything goes silent. All Gabriel can hear is the steady drip of leaking taps and the smell of blood and urine to accompany him. He lies on the floor, unable to move, his vision blurring. He doesn't know if it's because he's crying or he's losing consciousness, but he can feel his body begin to shake. It starts slow, one moment he is lying on the floor, struggling to breathe through the blood in his mouth and nose, his labored breathing echoing off the restroom walls. The next, he is hit with a wave of spasms so hard that his muscles cramped up, causing him to convulse violently.

The funny thing is, as his body goes into shock, all he can think of are the things he came here to forget. Kind green eyes. A warm smile. Long lashes. A smattering of freckles. And sandy blonde hair. A tear falls from his lashes and leaks down the side of his face to the floor. He closes his eyes and lets the convulsion take over. Right before he is swallowed by darkness, he swears he heard someone call out his name. Whoever it is, sounds young. Familiar.

Gabe.

Someone takes him into their arms. He could feel their warmness against his damp and chilled skin. But he's still convulsing, and the darkness is all consuming. Someone is cupping his face but he can't see. He feels himself falling, and for the first time since he was assaulted, he doesn't want to die. He wants to stay here, in this person's arms where it's warm and soft. He doesn't want to die.

I'm sorry.

There are no snippets of the top 10 moments of his life. No flashbacks or memories. Nothing.

Just him.

Chase.

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Chase tugs on his leather jacket as he ambles down the few cobble steps at the front of the house, bowlegs apparent in his loose fitting jeans. The day is still warm enough without a jacket, but it's getting a little windy now, making it feels a degree or two colder. He hunches his shoulder forward, the leather jacket hanging off his slight frame. It used to belong to his dad. When he disappeared, he left some of his things behind. The jacket is one of Chase's favorites. It still smells like dad sometimes if he's desperate enough. Wearing it makes him feel a tad safer, stronger. And he needs all the courage he could get for his talk with Gabriel.

He takes a deep breath. To be honest, he's feeling anxious about having this conversation. He stands by his words that he sucks at these feelings crap. They're messy and confusing and trying to talk about them is like pulling teeth. They're just damn hard to get out. Why can't people just understand what he is trying to say without him actually saying it? The world would be a much better place. No misunderstanding. No putting your foot in your mouth. Something he's unnaturally good at. And isn't that just great.

Shaking his head, he's still in disbelief. Gabriel must not be coping very well if this is what he resorted to. And could Chase blame him? He's in a relationship with someone who abuses him both mentally and physically. To make matters worse, Gabriel actually believes that he deserves this life, that he belongs on the streets. Believes this to be some sort of atonement. And for what? For something that he has no control over whatsoever! What kind of fucked up logic is that? His head hurts trying to make sense of it.

Because Gabriel is awesome, okay? Sure, the guy can be awkward and is too intense sometimes. The way he stares makes you feel like he could see inside your soul. It's creepy but for some reason, Chase likes it. It feels like he's being seen. Years spent moving around, it makes forming relationships hard; friends and otherwise. And with dad being gone most of the time, sometimes it feels like nobody really sees him. Except for Sam, he has no one.

Despite his intensity or perhaps because of it, makes Gabriel a compassionate person. The guy has a lot of heart. He's capable of so much love, caring, thoughtful and giving to those around him. Only he could forgive so quickly and easily, happy to accept an apology. Gabriel is so earnest and sincere about his feelings. He doesn't keep them locked up inside but wears them on his sleeves for all to see.

As much as it's his best attribute, too much heart is also Gabriel's problem. He loves with an entirety. He gives his heart and soul to the people around him, be it a stranger or a friend. And that's what makes Gabriel so great. He's selfless. Despite what he'd gone through, Gabriel still managed to keep his faith in humanity. After witnessing first hand the depravity of the lowest scumbags in society, he still believes in the goodness of people. Still looks at the world and sees the beauty of it. That's what makes him special.

Chase, on the other hand, has a jaded view of the world. But he's not a quitter. He's a fighter. Whatever happens, he'll go down swinging. He's too stubborn not to. But damn does he want to see the world the way Gabriel sees it. Like there's hope. A light at the end of the tunnel.

The sky rumbles. He looks up at the darkening clouds. Seems like it is going to be a rainy night. He hopes it storms. If he doesn't screw up too badly, maybe they could walk back together. Maybe they could watch the storm tonight, cuddled up nice and warm in a blanket. The thought warms his heart. He's addicted to hanging out with Gabriel. It feels so right to have him by his side. They don't even have to talk, the silence between them comfortable. Just soak in each other's presence. He can stare into those intense blue eyes forever.

God, he's so whipped if that's what his inner monologues sound like.

Chase mentally smacks his brain, telling it to shut up and glances up ahead. He knows which truck stop Lucas meant, had been there himself when dad had stopped to pump up on gas. From this distance, he can see the flickering neon sign promoting the deli. It'll take him about five minutes to get there. He doesn't want to think about what Gabriel is probably doing right now.

Awesome as he may be, Gabriel can be pretty dense. How could he not see his effect on Chase? Gabriel made him blush more in a day than he did in his entire lifetime. And he's not one to blush. In fact, he's quite the ladies man. But then again, he'd never been smooth with the men. When you're young, confused and scared, even the most well-thought move takes a swan dive.

He hadn't had much practice anyway. Not when part of him is terrified his old man would find out. Henry Reed is a man's man. A homicide detective. He wouldn't take well to his son being bisexual. Would never believe it's even a thing. The thought of his dad ever finding out makes his stomach squirms uncomfortably. It's easy to imagine the disappointment in his dad's eyes, the disgust on his face. Chase sighs. No matter how hard he tries to please his old man, he'll never be enough.

A rowdy crowd draws his attention, snapping him out of his depressing thoughts. He looks up, catching sight of a group of men laughing and jeering, showing off something on their phone. They're still a little too far away for him to make out what they are saying exactly but experiences tell him not to attract the attention of these men. Everything about them spells trouble. He slows his pace, watching as the group walks towards the Harleys parked in a row by the deli.

One of the men, a big black guy, jumps onto his bike and starts the engine, revving it to get the attention of the others. Even from this distance, Chase could see his bloodshot eyes, the feral glint in them. He shivers. The others climb onto their bike and one by one they leave the truck stop, revving their engines loudly as they fly past him, causing the hair on his skin to stand.

Morons. He shakes his head as he walks up to the building. Gabriel's most likely to be near the restroom. Not that he would know per se, he hadn't had to work the streets yet. He just guessed based on what he'd seen on television. Maybe it's stereotypical of him, considering the place actually looks decent, not dodgy or dingy like he thought it would be. Normal.

When he reaches the side of the building where the restroom is, he scans around for Gabriel. He frowns. No sight of Gabriel. Maybe he is currently with a client? In one of the trucks in the parking lot? He cranes his head upwards to see if he can spot any sign of life in any one of those trucks. Squinting, he surveys every windshield in the parking lot, on the lookout for any telltale signs. A bobbing head. Anything. Nothing.

He purses his lips. Maybe Gabriel is in the restroom? He hesitates. It's hurt him just to think of it; he's unsure if he wants to catch Gabriel in the act. He decides to wait around. As he leans against the wall outside, he hears a noise. His ears prick up. He looks around and then his eyes lock on the door to the restroom. Without warning, the hair on the back of his neck prickles. His heart thumps.

There, near the handle of the door, is a stain that looks like blood. The air grows thick around him, and his heart is drumming a heavy beat in his chest. Suddenly afraid, he swallows. Then he hears it again. A sort of choking, guttural and throaty.

Without thinking, he takes a step forward. Then another. And before he knows it, his hands are clasped around the doorknob, sticky with blood. Silence. So silent except for the turn of the doorknob, the click rings loud in his ears. A sharp coppery smell hits his nostrils. Chase throws the door open, and stares horrified. The scene in front of him is like something out of a horror movie.

There's blood smeared everywhere. The smell of it is overpowering, metallic and rusty. Combined with the pungent smell of bleach and urine, he doesn't think he'll ever be able to forget the smell. Lying in the middle of it all, is a boy. He's half naked and bloody. Chase's heart jumps to his throat when he recognizes the mop of dark hair.

Gabriel is seizing, eyes rolling into the back of his head, muscles spasming. All thoughts fly out of his head as Chase rushes forwards, falling onto his knees beside Gabriel. His vision starts to blur as tears fill his eyes.

"G- Gabe?" His voice breaks. He swallows and tries again. "GABE!" It's a wretched sound, strangled like his voice is being ripped from his throat. Chase hesitates for a while, hands hovering above the battered body unsure of what to do. Then, he pulls Gabriel into his arms and holds his head against his chest, fighting against the convulsion shaking his entire frame. Gabriel jerks one last time and stills, going limp in his arms.

His heart stops.

"Gabe?" His voice trembles, a tear rolls down his cheek. "Gabe?! W- Wake up!" he chokes, jostling Gabriel. His head lolls around listlessly, eyes closed. "No, please Gabe! Not now, please... Don't leave me!" he cries, fingers coming up to Gabriel's neck, searching for a pulse. "Not like this... GABE!"

He couldn't feel a damn thing! Stopping, Chase takes a deep breath and forces himself to calm down. Pressing two fingers over Gabriel's pulse point, he closes his eyes, tears spilling down both cheeks.

He feels it. A beat.

It's hardly there and dangerously slow. Snapping his eyes open, he moves into action. He shuffles out of his leather jacket and drapes it over Gabriel. Then, careful not to jar him too much, he lifts Gabriel up, bridal style. When he looks down at the broken face, the once bright blue eyes swollen shut, he feels a pang in his chest.

"It's okay, Gabe. Stay with me," he whispers. "I've got you. Just stay with me, buddy. Don't go to sleep."

He carries Gabriel out of the restroom, into the open. The sky is gloomy and foreboding, dark clouds rolling in, promising a storm. Afraid that Gabriel might have a punctured lung or broken bones, Chase keeps his grip firm and steady. It is hard to tell how bad his injuries are when his body is so battered and bruised, blood caking his head and thighs. He forces himself not to look at the dried come splattered all over Gabriel's body. He needs to keep his head straight. Focus. He needs to find help.

Throwing the door to the deli open with his shoulder, he cries out for help. His outburst causes the whole deli to go quiet, everyone turning to stare.

"Somebody, call 911. Please..." he begs.

It took a second before the deli erupts into action. Patrons scramble up from their seats and rush over. The waitress behind the counter reaches for the phone on the wall, dialing 911. Within seconds, he's surrounded by a mass of people, all plying him with questions and voicing their shock. When one of them tries to pry Gabriel out of his arms, he holds on tight, shaking his head as tears stream down his face.

He feels scared, overwhelmed and most of all useless as he cradles Gabriel closer, pressing a kiss into the mop of hair. His knees feel weak, and he lets himself slide to the ground, arms tight around the body in his lap. Closing his eyes, he buries his nose in Gabriel's hair. Every slow rise and fall of Gabriel's chest keeps him grounded, gives him hope.

He whispers reassurances and comforting words in Gabriel's ear, tells him that everything is going to be alright, and that help is on the way. He tells him to stay with him because he had promised to take Gabriel on a date and he's not one to break his promises. They still have to watch the rain together. And Chase's nowhere near done getting to know him. There's still so many things he doesn't know like what's his favorite color, his favorite food.

Chase tells him about his crush on him, how every look Gabriel threw at him made him blush, how his heart beat a little faster. He tells him he cares for him and that he doesn't want Gabriel to go, to leave him behind. He tells him about his abandonment issues, his fears, his insecurities. He spills out his soul until there is nothing left, just desperate pleas and Gabriel's name on his lips.

It feels like an eternity later before he finally hears the sound of sirens in the distance. Then, it's all a blur. The paramedics rush towards him, coaxing him to let go of Gabriel. He refuses at first, and it's not until after a sympathetic paramedic tells him that they need to strap Gabriel onto the stretcher so that they can bring him to the hospital that Chase manages to let go. He stays close, not wanting to let Gabriel out of his sight. Watch as the paramedics give Gabriel's body a quick scan, checking for any life threatening injuries before lifting him onto the stretcher and rolling him into the waiting ambulance.

Chase is quick to scramble into the back seat, not giving them any excuse to leave him behind. Taking Gabriel's hand in his, he watches as another paramedic places an oxygen mask over Gabriel's mouth and nose. Under the bright lights in the ambulance, Gabriel looks pale and sick, skin white against the red covering half his face. The siren echoes loudly in his ear as they start to move and for the whole ride to the hospital, his eyes never leave Gabriel's face, his hand a death grip onto Gabriel's own limp ones, afraid that if he doesn't hold tight enough, he might lose Gabriel forever.