Breeze (The Mighty Queertet: Story 3)

Chapter 22: Facing the Wind by Victory Thru Tears

Adam’s POV
I don’t bother putting my shirt back on as I enter my dorm building. The writing on me is already starting to smear from my sweat, and it would be worse if I had on another layer of clothing.

“What am I, the human notebook?” I grumble as I enter our room.

“What happened to you?” I turn around to see Fulton and Portman peering through the doorway.

I hold my arms up. My entire upper body is covered in ink… arms, back, chest, stomach.

“Maya got inspired, and decided to write an erotic novel on me.” I try to sound annoyed about it, but when they start laughing, I join in.

Fulton peers at my arm, and his eyes widen as he silently reads a passage of Maya’s work.

“Whoa! That’s dirty! I’d never think that something like that could come from a mind as sweet as hers!” He laughs.

I roll my eyes. “You have no idea. We’ve had many chats before, and the girl is the devil.”

The laughter stops as Charlie appears behind the Bash Brothers. He looks at us suspiciously.

Fulton and Portman exchange a glance.

“You know, we really should get going to talk to Bombay…” Portman elbows his boyfriend in the ribs.

“Yeah, don’t want to miss him…”

They bolt out faster than I had expected for two people of their size.

Charlie shoots me a glare. I sigh inwardly. Why, oh why, did I switch rooms with Guy? Oh yeah, because I was—am?—in love with Charlie. Right now, though, I don’t want to be sharing all of the private moments of my life with him. I walk into the bathroom to try and wash off the marker from my body, locking the door behind me.

I only take three steps coming back out before landing flat on my face. The pain shoots through my wrist yet again. God, three injuries in three days?

“Oh, sorry.” Charlie looks at me, sincere concern on his face. He holds out a hand to help me up.

I scramble up on my own. “What the hell is your problem? Can’t you put your stuff away? You made me hurt my wrist again!”

His expression darkens. “Hey, it was an accident. And plus, you fell on your own!”

This is stupid and petty. So why am I continuing? “If it weren’t for your stupidity, we wouldn’t be in this situation!”

“That has nothing to do with this!” He knows that I’m not referring to the bag on the floor.

“It has everything to do with this! You don’t realize what you’re doing to people, you’re just wrapped up in yourself and the fact that I got a life and broke up with you.”

“Got a life?” He snarls. “That was a low blow, Banks. You only broke up with me because you had nothing better to do, and you love to cause conflict.”

“Just shut up Charlie.” I wave my good wrist at him, motioning from him to go away. “Just shut up and get out of my sight.”

He doesn’t look angry anymore. Just hurt. He turns and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.


I lay awake in my bed. It’s well past one in the morning, and I haven’t been able to sleep a wink. Charlie’s awake too, I can tell by the absence of his mumbling. He actually talks more in his sleep than while conscious.

He tried to talk Guy into switching rooms again, but he wouldn’t agree. He insisted that he needed to keep Luis in check, and that if he switched back with me, Luis would probably beat the life out of me. He’s not happy about being kicked off the team.

I shift my position, and move my hand on top of the pillow. The silver ring on my finger glints in the moonlight.

I had almost forgotten about it, truthfully. It hasn’t been taken off of my finger in about four months, since the day that he put it on. I really don’t know if it’s right to keep it. I’m not saying that I don’t want to… it’s just…

I have come to terms with my feelings for Charlie. I was the world’s biggest idiot to break up with him, and I can easily admit that I had no real reason besides the fact that my pride was hurt. After the girls made up so easily, my jealousy swelled. I’m not sure why. So I decided to return the favor to Charlie and instill some heartache into him. Now I’m sorely paying for my decision.

Contrary to popular belief, Charlie and I really do not fight often. But we are both very full of ourselves, and love to be right. Usually I let him win in fights, since he is the more domineering one. And we also usually make up very quickly… but this time…

I’m supposed to take the initiative, aren’t I?

I can’t. It’s not me. But I’m the one that hurt him, so I…

“Charlie?” Did that really just come out of my mouth?

I look over at him, he’s facing the wall, and for a moment I wonder if he’s finally gone to sleep.

“What?” The reply comes back, cold and hard.

The moonlight glints on the ring again as I move my hand.

“Can I talk to you real quick?”

I think he catches the hesitant tone in my voice. He’s probably shocked that I’m talking to him without swearing.

“Sure.” He rolls over, and sits up so that his legs are dangling over the edge of the bed. He gazes at me intently.

I move so that I’m in the same position.

“Do you… do you want the ring back?” I ask, choking slightly.

Charlie looks taken aback. He clears his throat, and looks around the room a little bit. What seems like an eternity later, he looks back at me. Maybe it’s just because I haven’t gotten any sleep and I’m hallucinating, but his eyes look a little bit shiny.

“No. You keep it. I gave it to you, it’s yours.”

“But—”

“I said just keep it!” He cuts me off, and the wall between us goes back up.

I lie down on my bed, pulling the covers over my head.


I glance down at the silver ring now on my finger. He’s still holding my hand tightly, as if afraid to let go.

“It seems more like a proposal to me.” I tease.

He shrugs, and slides down so that he’s on his stomach. “Maybe it is.”

“So what are you proposing?” I roll over as well.

He looks embarrassed. “Don’t start laughing at me again.”

I promise, serious but amused at his slightly red ears.

“I’m proposing that you don’t stop loving me, because I don’t know if I could deal with that.”

That sentence makes my whole Christmas even better than it has been already. Forget everything else, I have the boy of my dreams right here with me, and what’s even better is that he feels the same for me as I do for him.

“Oh Charles…” I plant a kiss on his forehead. “Like that could ever happen.”


The Girl, Official stalker of Carla, Tangible Muse and Bod Who Generally Fixes the Mean Nasty Coding That Makes Carla Cry (After Having Broken It In The First Place)

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