“No, no, reel in that one!”

Somehow, the whole group had ended up gathered around a video slot machine, arguing about which lobsters Tina should choose for her bonus round.

In an effort to stay out of the debate, Zeph had grabbed himself a beer, but from the sounds of it, they were no closer to deciding which lobsters to choose.

He settled down at a terminal nearby, keeping half an ear on the conversation as he fed five bucks into the machine.

“We should ask River. He seems to be an expert.”

River scoffed. “At lobsters?”

“You know who I’m talking about,” Glam scoffed right back at him. “RB? Back me up.”

RB gave a noncommittal hum.

“Oh, RB knows something he’s not sharing. Selfish.”

River snorted with laughter. “I’m going to get a drink, since the waitress seems to have developed an allergy to obnoxious fags.”

The word still made Zeph wince, but he could see exactly why River used it. It took away the last vestige of anyone’s power to hurt him with it. It gave him a sense of community with all the flamboyant personalities in this group… the bonding of social exiles.

In a way, Zeph was a little jealous. He pulled the terminal handle and tried to shut down that line of thought as the digital wheels spun.

He didn’t need a word for himself. He was fine without labels, he told himself. One like that? Yeah, he wasn’t sure he could even use it for himself.

“What can I threaten RB with?” That was Tina again.

RB snorted. “There’s nothing in the world you can do to me that I can’t do to myself, hon.”

“I beg to differ,” Tina teased. “Come on, what’s with the two of them?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He looks happy, though,” RB told her.

“Really happy,” Dixie chimed in. “Mind you, he’s been looking forward to this for ages.”

“You think they’re…?”

“What? Already? No.”

“River nearly tore your head off for flirting with him,” Anna chimed in.

Zeph’s cheeks were hot as he upped his bet to the max lines so he could burn through his cash faster and take a stroll. Unfortunately, he was winning.

Gossip was inevitable, they both knew that. They hadn’t been trying to hide it, and they had been taking every opportunity to fuck.

But the way they were talking… it made him wonder what exactly River had told them, if anything. Especially RB, who seemed to know more than he was letting on.

Had River made it out to be more than it was?

The possibility made Zeph uneasy. He kept half an ear on their idle speculation until it drifted to other subjects, but the thoughts the gossip had brought up weren’t so easy to dismiss.

Was it really the idea of River wanting more that made him uneasy? Or was it the possibility that he wanted more with River?

He couldn’t really tell which. Maybe all of this was wishful thinking because he wanted River to fall for him, and this whirlwind fling to turn into…

What, exactly? A boyfriend who picked him up at the gym after training? Who put up with his weird eating habits, and taped up his bruises?

He couldn’t wrap his head around what a relationship with River would even look like.

When he finally ran out of money, he got up and wandered through the rows of machines, glancing at the people who seemed glued to them.

Then, Zeph stopped dead in his tracks.

There. It’s him.

There was no mistaking him, even all these years later. Zeph froze, like the world was suddenly pulling back from him, growing around him, leaving him small and helpless and wanting to be unconscious. Or dead. Anything but this.

“Father Peters. I appreciate you taking such good care of my boy. He’s been in need of some guidance since the Lord blessed us with him.”

Zeph—that wasn’t his name back then, but it didn’t matter anymore—stayed very still, silent. Hands folded in his lap, eyes down.

The priest’s feet shuffled under the desk, and his palms were sweating.

His head spun.

Not again, he wanted to say. Not again, don’t leave me with him.

But the last time he’d asked that, his new foster father had lectured him about speaking of a man of God that way. He’d gotten on his knees to pray with him for forgiveness.

George—he wouldn’t call his foster father Dad, that was for his real dad—saw something in his brother, Father Peters, that Zeph couldn’t.

Or maybe he didn’t see something that Zeph could.

Or maybe they both saw each other for who they were, and Zeph was trapped between them.

What George did to him was his own fault. Father Peters had told him that. He wasn’t ever, ever to tell a soul, except Father Peters, because Father Peters understood, and he would help him.

He’d tuned out the rest of the conversation. The door closed.

Father Peters stood up like he had all the time in the world, but the tension in the room was unbearable. Thick. Hot.

Just like…

No. No, no, no.

A broad hand closed around his shoulder, and Zeph’s eyes closed on their own. The priest was speaking, but he’d tuned him out.

Zeph’s mind was fixed on one fact that made him choke with fear: he wanted to burn for eternity. It would be better than what was coming now.

Fuck. Zeph couldn’t do it. He’d shut down. He recognized that fact, objectively. He couldn’t get the memories out of his head, and he couldn’t talk to the man while they were there.

George didn’t see Zeph—he was able to duck behind the last row of machines, then steered around them until he was half the casino floor away from the man.

Zeph felt small, like everyone who brushed against him was a threat. It had been a long, long fucking time since he’d felt like that.

Finding an exit door in a casino was like finding his balls in a pair of old boxers, but somehow he was outside in the darkening evening. He gulped cool, fresh air, the cigarette smoke still burning his throat and lungs.

Or maybe that was nausea. He fought it back, leaning against the side of the building and rolling his head back as he coughed.

“Hey, you taking a breather?” It was River. Not only could he tell from his footsteps and his light voice, but the way a warm weight pressed into his side. River leaned into him like he could even support himself right now. “Smoky in there. Jesus.”

“Yeah, and a break. I wanna be alone, if you don’t mind.”

River was quiet for a moment, and the weight pulled back from Zeph a moment later, giving him a chance to breathe. “Oh. Yeah, we’re pretty raucous, sorry. Come, uh, find me when you’re ready.”

Zeph nodded tightly.

River paused there a few moments longer before his footsteps receded and the door clicked shut again.

Hope I didn’t scare him off.

But if he had, it was just as well. It was nobody’s job to deal with Zeph’s fucked-up brain.