For the Fans

by Nyla K.

What are you hiding inside that pretty head of yours, baby? Will it have you running from me again?

“I’m in love with you,” I murmur, and his body shudders in my hands. “And I’m pretty sure I have been since the moment we met.” He lets out a soft sound, like relief, and joy, fear and excitement all in one perfect little sigh. “But I was so mean to you…” His voice shakes. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. I nod. “I know… I might be a masochist.” He laughs,

Almighty Tom Brady… We need a miracle.

I don’t even know this person, but I want him to burn alive in an inferno for all eternity. I want him to know exactly why he’s being punished. I need him to get it.

Kyran: I wanna kiss you so bad babe. I’m gonna kiss you in front of EVERYONE :) Jesus, my fucking heart. I can’t even breathe…

I’m on a mission to do better for him. To prove that if he can just be patient with me, I’ll work past the fear I’ve been living with for so long, and be what he needs. I can do that for him.

Avi looks like an Avi I don’t know. Sad, angry, uncomfortable… So many things that aren’t the Avi I fell in love with, and it’s destroying me. I did this to him. I ruined him with my truth.

“I’m gonna come in you, Ky,” he whines, gripping and pulling the elastic waistband of my jockstrap with his free hand as he moves in steady thrusts between my legs. “I’m gonna fill you deep…” “Breed me,” I gasp. And that’s it. Game over for Avi.

Being inside him last night felt like we were finally home, in the sense that home is wherever we’re together and in love.

“Aviel, I’m so happy that you’re telling me.” She rubs my arm. “I’m proud of you for being so brave. But it’s not something I would need to process. I just love you. Who you love doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy with them.”

The real Kyran Harbor wouldn’t be alive without Avi Vega. He’s my reason, my rescue. Slow down, broken boy… and let him catch you.

But I just can’t help feeling like the idea of your boyfriend being sexually abused as a child and the reality of the gritty details are two very different things.

My trauma will always be with me, no matter where I’m located. It’s a part of who I am, and as I’ve learned in these past weeks, I just have to make room for it inside myself. Work on acceptance, and giving myself the time and space to heal.

I blink at my reflection. “You deserve better parents. But you’re stuck with the ones you have. So you’ll go, say your piece, and close that chapter. No matter what happens, you’re here. This is you.”

Pausing, I take in a steady inhale, reminding myself that I can’t control how other people react to things. I can only control my own actions.

Mom sighs, a pitying sound, and I shoot a glare in her direction. “Avi, I say this with love…” she starts, standing up from the couch. “You need to smoke some weed. Because you’re stressing me out.”

“Kyran, I want to fix you. Nothing in my life has ever made me happier than to open the door for you every single time you showed up, lost and confused and needing me to show you how good it can feel to let go. I love fixing you, baby, and if you need me to, I will. It would be my greatest pleasure.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I have a bad habit of running from you, baby. But I’m done now… Avi, you deserve to be chased.”

“I’m like… stupidly in love with you.” “Baby… I’m fucking moronically in love with you.”

No one gets to tell us to tone down our rainbows. We’re broadcasting that shit, whether you like it or not.