Swing for the Fences

by Little Buddha

Chapter 18

I must have dozed off.

When I opened my eyes, I was still buried beneath my covers. The air under the blanket was warm, stale, and faintly damp. My cheeks were tacky with dried tears. My legs were twisted in the sheets. I wasn't crying anymore, but I could still feel the weight of it – like the sadness had calcified somewhere deep inside my chest.

It took me a second to remember where I was.

And then everything came rushing back.

Noah.

Jeff Purdell, that fucking redheaded dweeb who I would hunt down and beat the crap out of, if it was the last thing I ever did.

Their bodies tangled together. Skin on skin. Kisses. Moans. The way Noah's back arched as they feverishly rubbed their dicks together.

And then the crowd.

The whispers.

I curled tighter beneath the covers, swallowing against the lump in my throat. Outside the blanket, I heard hushed voices – muffled, cautious, too low to make out.

Some of the boys must've come into the room.

God.

No.

I couldn't face them.

I didn't want them to see me like this – pathetic, broken, exposed. I could already imagine what they were saying.

"How could he not see it?"

"God, he's so fucking naïve."

"He thought someone like Noah would actually love him?"

They were right.

I was blind. I was stupid. I should have seen it coming. Jack warned me. Jonah screamed at me. And I still didn't listen. I was too wrapped up in my fantasy – boarding school, friends, love, happiness. I let myself believe I belonged here.

I didn't .

I was the mistake.

The thought of going to the infirmary flitted through my head. Just long enough to find some pills that would knock me out. Or maybe I could slip outside. Just lie down in the snow and go to sleep. Let the cold carry me away to nothingness. I'd heard it was the most peaceful and painless way to go.

Coward, I thought.

You couldn't even do that right.

The blanket lifted.

My heart stuttered.

A small figure crawled in beside me. Slid under the covers without asking, without hesitation.

Jonah.

In the dim light filtering through the doorway, I could see his face. His curls were a mess. His eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. His lower lip was trembling.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

I didn't answer.

He threw his arms around me and started sobbing.

Not a sniffle. Not a show.

Real, guttural sobs.

"Please talk to us, Nick," he whispered between cries. "At least talk to me . We're really scared. I'm really scared."

I stayed still. Let him cry. Let him cling. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I didn't want to feel it. Not the hug. Not the worry. Not the pain.

Eventually, Jonah pulled away and slipped back out of the bed.

I heard voices again – closer this time.

And then the blanket was ripped away.

In one swift motion, I was bare to the room – just in my underwear, blinking against the sudden light, frozen like prey caught in a trap.

Mark. Emery. Christian. Danny. Jonah. Jack.

All of them were standing there.

All of them were looking at me.

Christian moved first.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around me. His hug was iron.

Heavy. Warm.

I panicked.

"No – get off me," I mumbled, struggling to push him away. "Please just go."

"Not a chance, champ," he said.

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"Please – please – just leave me alone," I begged, as the tears started falling anew.

I started thrashing, trying to wriggle away. It was pathetic.

"I'm stupid," I gasped. "I'm such a fucking idiot. I don't deserve friends. I don't even –"

"Hey." Emery's voice broke through. He stepped forward and put a hand gently on my arm. "You're not stupid. Or an idiot. And everyone in this room loves you."

Mark knelt at the foot of the bed. "This was Noah's fault. Not yours. He's the dick. He's the one who should be embarrassed. Not you ."

"We're not friends with him anymore," Emery added fiercely. "Like, at all ."

Christian kept hugging me tightly while they all were trying to talk to me. I actually felt safe in Christian's arms and kind of didn't want him to let go … ever .

I wanted to believe them. I wanted to let their words in. But I couldn't.

Not until Jack moved.

He pushed past Christian, nearly knocking him aside, and collapsed onto the bed beside me. "Nick, please listen to me," he said softly. "It's me, Jack. Please."

He wrapped his arms tentatively around me. I didn't push him away I couldn't

But I stayed buried under the blanket, like if I hid long enough, the world would forget I existed. Everyone was still in my room, throwing out bits of advice or lame jokes, trying to fix me. Their voices blurred together into background noise. All except Jack's. His voice cut through, steady and low, slipping under the blanket and into me like it had a key.

I could hear him shift on the mattress beside me, feel the faint dip where he sat, close enough that the warmth of him bled through the blanket. I hated that it made me feel safer. I could hear his breathing too – slow, steady, grounding – and catch the faint smell of his soap, clean and warm, like the way his hoodie used to smell when he'd lend it to me.

God, why hadn't I just been with Jack from the start? How stupid could I have been? At first, I didn't even see what was right in front of me, and then when I did, I was too much of a chicken-shit to act on it. Too scared. Too weak. I should've dumped Noah weeks ago and been with Jack. Jack, who knew me better than anyone. Jack, who got me in a way nobody else ever could. Jack, who loved me – God help me – probably still loved me, even after all the crap I'd put him through. Did he know I love him, more than words could describe?

And that's the thing. Did I even deserve him anymore? After the hell I dragged him through with my back-and-forth? After making him doubt everything he ever felt for me?

No. Probably not.

But I needed him. I needed him like air, and I hated myself for it. I couldn't just jump straight from Noah into something with Jack, but I needed to tell him I was sorry. I needed him to know what he meant to me. I just didn't know how. I didn't know if I had the right. And I couldn't make him feel like he was my section choice, just a back-up, because, in all reality, he was always my first choice. Or should have been.

I felt his hand rest lightly on my shoulder – just for a second – and it took everything in me not to grab it and hold on. The only thing I knew for sure was that I didn't want him to leave my side. Not now. Not ever. Whether I was ready to say it out loud or not, I needed him. And deep down, I think I knew – we were tied together now. Our fates were inextricably linked together.

But how long would it take for us to get back to where we once were, and then something more than that.

"I'm so sorry," Jack whispered, voice raw and cracking. "I'm so, so sorry this happened to you."

He held me tighter.

"I should've protected you. I should've said more. I should've told you every single day how amazing you are."

He buried his face in my chest, but was still separated by the blanket.

"I love you, Nick. So much. More than I know how to say. I want to be with you, but I don't want to push you either. I know you need time, and while you figure things out, I'll be here for you, however you want me to be. Just don't push us away. Don't push me away. Please."

At this point, I could hear and feel him gently sobbing, and it was breaking what remained of my already damaged heart.

My defenses started to fracture.

The shame. The heartbreak. The self-doubt.

It didn't vanish. But it cracked. Just enough.

The others joined in.

One by one, they pressed close, wrapping their arms around me in a cocoon of warmth and care and love. Their hands on my back, my arms, my face, as they gently pulled the blanket away.

Noah had hurt me badly. But he didn't destroy me completely.

But they were trying to put me back together.

"We know what happened," Emery whispered. "The whole dorm knows. People from other dorms, too."

"And everyone's on your side," Christian said. " Everyone. "

"Noah locked himself in his room," Mark muttered. "Mr. G's trying to get him to come out, but… yeah. Good luck."

Christian swore that he was going to "bust Noah's face" as soon as he saw him. I wouldn't have minded that.

I blinked slowly, still trying to breathe. Still trying not to cry.

Mr. G showed up about ten minutes later. He opened the door, surveyed the scene – five boys wrapped around one – and exhaled heavily.

"Alright," he said, gentler than I'd ever heard him. "That's enough for tonight. Give him some space. Back to your rooms, gentlemen."

One by one, they trickled out. Mark gave my knee a squeeze. Emery brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. Jonah wiped his face and gave me one last look before whispering, "Don't disappear on us, okay? I need you, too." Then he kissed me every so softly on the lips and fled out the door.

Only Jack stayed behind. Of course, he was my roommate.

We sat in silence.

The light went off.

I turned toward the wall, pulled the covers up again, and whispered a silent thank-you that tomorrow was Sunday.

I wasn't ready to see anyone else yet, so I could just hide in my cocoon of shame until Monday morning.

But when I felt Jack lift the blanket and slide in next to me, I didn't flinch.

He pulled me close, his chest warm against my back. He threaded his fingers through my hair, slow and steady, the way he knew calmed me down.

He didn't speak.

He didn't have to.

Because I was still here.

And, somehow, so was he .

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the empty space next to me on the bed.

The second was the headache.

Not just any headache – a full-body, behind-the-eyes, soul-deep kind of headache. Like my entire skull had been packed with wet cement. My limbs ached. My mouth was dry. My brain felt like it was struggling to boot back up after being unplugged for too long.

It took me a second to remember where I was. Another second to remember why everything hurt.

And then it hit me again, like it always did: Noah. Jeff. The bed. The crowd.

The look on Jack's face when I blamed him.

I shifted under the covers, blinking blearily around the room. Jack wasn't in his bed.

But Christian was.

He sat up when he saw me stir, brushing sleep from his eyes. "You sleep okay?"

"Not really," I croaked, rubbing my temples.

He got up and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of my bed, and checking my forehead for a fever gently with the back of his hand. "Jack went to get you breakfast from the dining hall. He'll be back soon."

I squinted at him. "Are you babysitting me?"

He gave me a sheepish little grin. "Maybe a little. You gave us all quite the scare last night, bro."

I sighed. "I'm sorry. I know I reacted like a crazy person."

"Nah, you acted like a normal teenage boy going through his first breakup," Christian said. "It may feel like you'll never get over it, but I think you'll be feeling a lot better in just a few days. Trust me, I've been through plenty of breakups in my life."

I didn't have the energy to argue. I needed a shower more than anything. My skin felt gross, like my emotions from last night had leaked out through my pores and were still clinging to me. And this damn headache. It must have been from all the stress.

I dragged myself to the bathroom with Christian in tow, which made me feel a little like an emotionally crippled toddler being escorted to the potty. At least he stayed on the other side of the curtain while I showered. He even handed me an ibuprofen for my headache, which I swallowed with a mouthful of shower water like the picture of dignity.

The hot water helped a little. I stood under it, letting it pound against my back, eyes closed, trying not to think, trying not to feel. I imagined peeling my skin off like a suit and stepping out of it, fresh and clean and unruined.

Then the curtain whipped open suddenly.

I yelped.

Standing there, calm and emotionless, was Noah.

I instinctively curled in on myself, one hand grabbing the curtain, the other trying to cover my body, and wondering where Christian had gone.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I shouted. "Get the fuck out!"

Noah's face didn't move. "We need to talk."

"Like hell we do!" I backed up until I hit the cold tile wall, heart racing.

And then –

Noah was suddenly tackled .

There was a blur of motion and a crash, and the next thing I knew, Noah was on the floor, sprawled out and gasping. That was gonna leave a mark, I thought.

Christian stood over him, fists clenched.

"He said he doesn't want to talk to you, you two-timing asswipe ," Christian growled. "So, get the fuck out before I get the rest of the football team to help me remove you … forcefully."

Noah scrambled to his feet and puffed out his chest like he wanted to fight. But Christian was a full head taller and at least thirty pounds heavier—and not in a flabby way. Then Noah did the stupidest thing imaginable. He actually took a step toward Christian, and within milliseconds, Christian's fist made contact with Noah's face (the sound was terrifying), and then Noah was lying in a heap on the ground again, holding his eye and groaning.

After a few minutes, Noah managed to stumble to his feet. He adjusted his shirt, glared at both of us, and muttered, "Nick, we still need to talk." He then quickly departed the bathroom, hopefully never to be seen again.

After that, Christian stood outside the shower like a bodyguard until I was finished.

Back in my room, the window had been opened to "air it out," even though it was below freezing outside. The heater was still on full blast, which somehow made the room feel like a fever dream – cold air seeping in from one side, oppressive heat building from the other.

I didn't say much. Neither did Christian.

Jack came back a few minutes later, carrying a paper tray loaded with food. Bagels, fruit, yogurt, and a cup of coffee.

He lit up when he saw me – until Christian filled him in on what had just happened in the shower.

Jack's face darkened.

"I'm gonna kill him," he muttered.

"Let it go," Christian said, holding up a hand. "If he keeps bothering Nick, then we deal with it. But for now? Just let it go. Hopefully, the black eye he'll have will be enough of a message to leave our boy alone."

Jack looked like he wanted to argue, but eventually sat down beside me, handing me the tray. I took it gratefully, even if I only managed a few bites.

The rest of the day was quiet.

Safe.

I didn't leave the room once, and no one made me.

Friends came by – sometimes just one or two, sometimes more. They brought snacks, board games, and stories. Emery stopped in briefly with a couple of books and some tea. Jonah came by three separate times, crawling onto my bed and launching into wild stories about "the flaming ferret incident" and the wedding he held in his backyard for two frogs. I didn't always laugh, but I smiled. And he also gave me a lot more cuddles than usual, which is saying a lot. And that actually helped more than anything else, to be honest. Jonah was the best cuddler in the world, and I loved smelling his curly golden locks while he buried his face in my neck and our arms were wrapped around each other. Jonah was completely selfless when it came to affection, and I appreciated it now more than ever.

At one point in the late afternoon, I was lying back on my bed, with Jonah curled up beside me like a warm, chatty cat. I was absentmindedly running my fingers through his cute blond curls, letting him ramble about conspiracy theories involving Taylor Swift and encrypted government memos. Across the room, Jack was sprawled on his bed, flipping through a paperback, shirtless, as usual, with one earbud in his ear.

He glanced up and smirked. "You two should get a room already."

"Don't tempt me," Jonah said, batting his lashes coquettishly. "Although a room for three would be better."

Jack rolled his eyes – but he was smiling. I was so glad he wasn't jealous of Jonah. And he had no reason to be. Jonah and I were just special friends. Cuddle buddies.

Later, Emery returned with Danny. "Cute Danny," as everyone had started calling him. I still didn't trust him completely, but he was polite and sweet and made Emery laugh, and the others seemed to like him. I always thought of our group as kind of a refuge for stray gay kids (and their allies – that means you, Christian), so I wasn't going to turn him away. And maybe we did need some new blood within our ranks.

Emery plopped down on the floor and started chatting away, for once without his nose buried in a book. Danny, on the other hand, just stood there, stiff and unsure, like he wasn't sure if he was invited or about to be pranked.

"C'mon, just get in with us," I said, lifting the edge of the blanket with a grin. Jonah peeked out from under the covers, already smiling like he knew Danny would cave.

After a moment's hesitation, Danny kicked off his shoes and climbed in beside us. He nestled in quietly, and before long, both he and Jonah were tucked against me, warm and solid and safe. The twin-sized bed was awfully small for the three of us, but we made do.

I'm not gonna lie – it felt amazing. Danny was a world-class snuggler, the kind you didn't even realize you needed until you were wrapped up in him. In our group, snuggling was practically a membership requirement, so Danny passing that test was a given. He didn't just hug me; he rubbed slow circles on my back, combed his fingers gently through my hair, and even massaged the back of my neck like he was determined to melt every last knot of tension out of me. I could've stayed there forever.

For the next hour, words were almost unnecessary. I lay there, breathing in the warm, sleepy air, letting my thoughts wander and replay everything that had happened. My fingers drifted lazily through Danny's hair, then Jonah's – both impossibly soft – while their arms rested loosely around me. One of their legs (I couldn't even tell whose) was draped over mine, anchoring me there. That was just us. We were a tangle of limbs and quiet affection, the kind of closeness that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with feeling safe, wanted, and completely at ease.

It made me quietly sad to think that so many straight boys would go their whole lives without ever feeling this kind of closeness – without ever knowing what it was like to simply exist in someone's arms without judgment, without expectation. All because of some unspoken, outdated social "rules" about what boys could and couldn't do. I honestly believed every boy needed this, at least once in a while – to heal, to breathe, to remember they weren't alone in the world. There was nothing "gay" about it. It was friendship at its most unguarded, a silent exchange of care and trust, giving love to your friends and feeling it come back to you tenfold, until it warmed you all the way through.

At one point, Danny lifted the duvet over his head and looked at me. "Nick, I know we're not really friends yet or anything, but I'd like to be … your friend," he smiled shyly.

I ruffled his perfect hair and told him I'd like that too. I'd decided he was a sweet boy, and he belonged with us.

Eventually, the sun dipped low, and the dorm began to quiet. No one had eaten yet, so Christian and Jack offered to run over to the Grab-N-Go for some sandwiches, personal pizzas, chips, and pop. When they returned with the bounty, Emery hooked up his laptop and put on Under the Tuscan Sun , which we all enjoyed, despite it being a rom-com. I mean, who wouldn't want to drop everything, move to Italy, and start a brand-new life over from scratch? At that moment, it sounded like a good idea to me.

After lights out, Jack climbed into bed with me again. No hesitation. No asking. He brought his laptop, and we picked The Wild Robot . I needed something light-hearted and emotional, to prove to myself that I could still feel .

I nestled into him, my cheek resting just above his heart, and tried to focus on the slow rise and fall of his breathing. He ran his fingers through my hair in soft, slow strokes.

I couldn't cry anymore.

But I still couldn't shake the depression and dread.

Tomorrow was Monday.

Classes.

Hallways.

Stares.

Whispers.

I didn't know how I'd face them. I didn't know if I could .

But at least tonight, I didn't have to.

Tonight, I had Jack.

My friends practically had to drag me to breakfast on Monday morning.

We were all already dressed in our school uniforms – white button-downs, navy ties, gray slacks – standard issue for the boys of Harrison West. I barely remembered putting mine on. At some point, Christian must've handed me my tie and helped me do it up. My fingers were clumsy. My limbs felt like they were filled with wet sand. I did remember the gentle kiss he gave me on my forehead when he was done tying my tie, though.

I didn't want to go. I didn't want to move, or eat, or be seen . But they wouldn't let me stay in bed.

Jonah hovered like a sugar-crazed shadow. Emery offered me quiet smiles and a sip of his matcha tea. Mark made hilarious jokes about the size of Noah's "equipment." Jack didn't say much – just stuck by my side like a good soldier. I knew what they were doing. And I was grateful. But I still felt like I was walking naked through the snow. Totally vulnerable.

Unfortunately, one of the first things I saw when we got to the dining hall was Noah in the buffet line, and he had a huge black and blue shiner on his left eye. Christian was definitely going to get a hug for that one, not that I condoned violence, but this was a special case. Fortunately, Noah didn't seem to notice me as I watched him walk to a corner of the dining hall and sit down to eat by himself. I didn't feel bad for him at all.

I found a seat at the end of the long table, surrounded by my people, and tried to lose myself in the motion of breakfast. I barely registered the taste of the cream chipped beef and eggs. It just sat in my mouth like paste. The dining hall buzzed with the usual morning energy, but I felt like a ghost – still bleeding from the night before, barely holding myself upright.

Then the loudspeaker crackled to life.

The entire room fell into a hush as the voice of the Dean of Student Life came through, loud and clear:

"There will be a mandatory school-wide assembly in Reynard Field House immediately following breakfast."

I froze. My fork clinked against the plate.

I didn't need to ask what it was about, although I hoped that Christian wasn't going to get in trouble for decking Noah.

Twenty minutes later, we were packed into the field house, the air reeking faintly of floor wax and preemptive shame. I sat sandwiched between Jack and Mark, my arms folded tight across my chest, wishing I could sink into the bleachers and disappear.

The Dean stood at the podium with his usual sour expression, gripping the lectern like it had personally done him harm in some past life.

"I'm sure that most – if not all – of you are aware of an incident that occurred this past weekend in one of our residential dormitories," he began.

A few scattered cheers and whistles erupted from the back of the gym.

I wanted to melt. I wanted to die . I pulled my blazer tighter around me, hunching in my seat as if that could protect me from the humiliation.

" Enough! " the Dean barked. "This is not a joking matter."

The room quieted.

"While sexual activity is not explicitly forbidden at Harrison West," he said, adjusting his tie, "it is nonetheless strongly discouraged . This is a place of learning. Of discipline. Of growth. And engaging in inappropriate conduct in shared spaces shows a lack of respect for the institution – and for each other."

Groans. Eye rolls. A cough that sounded suspiciously like a snort.

One kid sitting in the back spoke up. "But it wasn't a 'shared space,' Your Dean-ness. They were smashing in a dorm room! Someone just happened to open the door and walked in on them. That hardly seems fair!"

The whole room erupted in laughter, and it took the Dean several minutes to quiet them down again.

"Be that as it may, gentlemen," the Dean continued, "the door was open when they were found, meaning anyone could have seen what lewd acts were being done."

That wasn't exactly true either. The door was closed; I just happened to open it and didn't close it behind me when I bolted. Oops!

Jack reached over and gave my knee a reassuring squeeze. I didn't return the gesture. I just stared ahead, blinking, forcing myself to breathe.

I could feel the glances. Not from everyone, but from enough of them. Lingering. Calculating. Judging.

He was there.

He's the one who saw it.

Isn't that the kid who got cheated on?

The Dean continued. "While there will be no suspensions or expulsions in this case, the students involved will be meeting with our guidance counselor and having conversations with their parents about appropriate behavior and boundaries while at school."

My stomach dropped.

I could already picture the phone call to Noah's parents.

Part of me hoped they did find out. That they finally saw their golden boy for who he really was.

The Dean went on. "This school believes in consent. In maturity. In understanding your own body and the rights of others. But let me be clear – any instances of coercion, non-consensual contact, or statutory violations will be met with immediate expulsion. No exceptions. "

Then, inevitably, a hand shot up.

From the top row of the bleachers: Venable . The class clown. Always ready to pour gasoline on a fire.

"Yes, Mr. Venable," the Dean said flatly, rubbing his temples.

"Sir," Venable called, "since this is an all-boys' school… can we assume what happened Saturday night was – GAY SEX?! Like penis in the pooper?"

The room exploded .

Laughter. Whistles. Catcalls.

The Dean visibly tensed.

"Mr. Venable," he said, through gritted teeth, "I'll see you in my office after second period."

It didn't matter.

The damage was done.

I shrank in my seat, heart hammering in my chest, every molecule in my body buzzing with mortification.

This wasn't just embarrassing – it was soul-crushing. And I hadn't even done anything. I was a bystander. A casualty. And yet, somehow, I was seemingly the one under the microscope because I had been Noah's boyfriend. So many people kept approaching me with questions or wanting to confirm some rumor, that Mark had to start physically pushing them away from me.

We were dismissed shortly after that. A few teachers gave me knowing looks. One of them – I think it was Mr. Halston – rested his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently as I passed. I didn't respond. I couldn't.

The rest of the day blurred.

Classes, notebooks, bells, corridors.

Boys looked at me. Some whispered. Most said nothing.

It was worse than being mocked – it was being noticed . Being known .

I wanted to go back to how it had been at the beginning, when I was invisible.

The only thing that kept me upright was my friends.

They'd come up with an actual schedule to make sure I never had to walk to class alone. Mark took the first leg in the morning. Jonah intercepted me before third period. Emery shadowed me between buildings. Christian made sure I got to the cafeteria and ate lunch with me if none of our other friends were around. Jack was there at the end of the day, always just a step behind me, silent and steady.

I never asked for it. They never made a big deal of it. But they did it .

I didn't deserve them.

Tennis practice was the only part of the day I wasn't dreading. The structure helped. The movement. The sound of balls hitting racquets, the sound of our shoes on the non-slip indoor court surfaces. And I felt like I could take out some of my frustration and anger on the little green balls (I'm sure there's a joke somewhere in there about Noah, but I digress …).

We were already dressed in our team uniforms – gray shorts, navy shirts, school crest over the heart.

I was lacing my shoes when I felt someone tap my shoulder.

I turned.

It was Connor.

My crush . The older boy with the perfect hair and easy smile and arms like they were made to be wrapped around someone. I'd been crushing on him since he was my guide on freshmen orientation day.

"Hey," he said, quietly. "If anyone gives you any shit about this, you tell me. Okay? You didn't do anything wrong."

I blinked. "Uh… yeah. Okay."

He nodded once, then jogged off to the other court.

I stood there, stunned.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't .

I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't asked for any of this. But I was the one left feeling stained, exposed, pitied. And somehow, Noah got to hide.

I closed my eyes, took a breath, and tightened the strings on my racket.

Tomorrow, I'd have to face it all again.

But for today, I was still standing.

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