Bishop Taes the Queen

****WARNING: this chapter deals with domestic abuse in gay relationships. Carlin and D'metrius do take the next step, but this chapter may not appeal to everyone because it's a little heavier than other stuff.

I hope you stick around, and if you do read it, I hope you enjoy.

Penny***

*

D'metrius had a bad feeling, a very particular one that he was more familiar with than he'd like to admit. He knew Alex was coming back, knew he did something wrong, he couldn't remember what, but he knew that Alex was mad and coming to punish him. He thought about hiding, but it would just make it worse, he knew that from experience.

A door opened and slammed shut, the force of it feeling like a physical slap. It was just Alex warming up. D'metrius suddenly wasn't in the bedroom anymore, he was in the kitchen. Dinner was... it wasn't, but he wasn't sure why. Wasn't he just cooking something? He felt the hair on his arms stand on end with terrified anticipation, reminding him of his mom's pomeranian for a minute. Pixie. A sudden wave of nostalgia and loss hit him like another physical blow, he never thought he'd miss the sand-colored little shit, but he did.

He wondered if his mom ever worried about him. Or if he was really and truly dead to her. His chest tightened until he couldn't breath, and then strong, calloused hands wrapped around his neck and he really couldn't.

"Didn't I tell you not to leave the house, Didi?" He couldn't breathe for a million different reasons. Hearing his nickname, the one Alex used to call him, filled his stomach with boiling lava, which was also somehow cold as ice.

"Yeah," he heard himself respond, gasping for breath as the hands relaxed, then pulled away. "It was only for a second, I needed-"

"Didi, I didn't fucking asking you why you left. I told you to stay home, didn't I?"

He looked down at his hands, he was washing dishes. The water was dirty and soapy at the same time, and he wondered how it could be both things at once. Dirty and clean, two things that weren't supposed to be together. "Yes, Alex," he said, barely a whisper.

"And you did anyway, right?" D'metrius, no Didi, didn't respond. He knew what was coming whether or not he said anything. "Didi, you left when I told you not to." He nodded, his hands deep in the murky dishwater. "Answer me. With words, Didi! You know, use your words."

Alex's tone was so condescending, and he couldn't think of anything to say that would be productive, so he kept his lips tightly sealed. Alex's fingers flexed around his neck, a warning. Apparently that wasn't the right answer, either, but there never was a right answer with Alex.

"Listen, you little queer ass bitch, you're lucky that I'm here. You know that, right? You're lucky you have someone like me to take care of you. No one else could love an ugly fucking faggot like you. Without me you'd be all alone, you know that, right?"

"Yes, Alex," Didi responded, his dialogue already written for him, the same as always. He held his breath, trying to hold back his tears, feeling more than worthless.

"Your own mama won't even say your name, cause you're such a disappointment, isn't that right?" He shook his head, stars forming in his vision from holding his breath to keep from crying, but it was too much. He hated it when Alex reminded him about his mother's reaction to finding out he was gay. She had always loved him best, the youngest of four, her baby. Now she wouldn't even speak his name, and he knew it, and Alex knew it, too.

"Y-yes Alex," he said, unable to say anything else. The first tear fell and then another. He tried to hide them by splashing in the water, washing up another plate.

"Who would you have, Didi, if it weren't for me?"

"No-no one," he said, trying to keep the hitch out of his voice. It would be worse if Alex knew he was crying. He'd never felt so alone, so isolated. So worthless.

D'metrius knew it was coming, knew this story by heart, but he could do nothing to stop it from happening. Even though he wasn't facing Alex, he could somehow still see his face, see that look of superiority and anger that he wore so often. "That's right, you bitch-ass fag. I'm the only one who could ever love you, so why do you make me have to hurt you?"

"I'm s-sorry," he stammered.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Alex mocked. "I'm s-s-sorry! Jesus, Didi, are you fucking stupid?"

He knew it wasn't a question, but he answered it anyway. He tried so hard to stop himself, but he couldn't. "I'm not stupid," D'metrius heard himself, heard Didi mutter. Didi sniffled in some snot.

"Turn around and say it to my face, Didi," Alex demanded. He shook his head. "Turn around, faggot, and say it to my face. Or are you too much of a wittle baby to even say your sassy shit to my face?"

He turned slowly, knowing what was coming, unable to stop it. "I'm not stupid," he said again. He turned back to the sink quickly and searched for another dish in the opaque water. His hand closed around some silverware just as Alex slapped the back of his head so hard he slipped and slammed his face into the spigot. It was one of the tall fancy ones like a swan's neck, and it landed to the right of his nose, just under his eye.

His vision turned white, then black for a moment, pain blossoming in monochrome. It took a few seconds before he realized something was wrong with his hand, too, the pain there more of a throbbing than a blooming.

He opened his good eye, the other one hurt way too bad, to find the murky dishwater had a weird streak of red in it. He looked at it, confused, disoriented, dazed. It spread, turning the water a weird brownish red color, and for a few seconds he couldn't figure out why the water was changing.

"Sorry, baby, sorry, so sorry," Alex cooed, grabbing him by the arms. "You make me do this, you know I love you, right?" His hands came out of the water and he was still confused for a second as ruby red droplets dripped from his hand and splashed into the water. A knife, the big chopping knife that Alex had given him for his birthday because he liked to cook, the sharp, expensive knife was sheathed in his closed fist.

The instant his brain put the pieces into place the pain started for real, shadowing the pain in his eye by magnitudes. He couldn't make his hand relax, couldn't unclench his fist, and the blood, there was so much of it. How did he have that much blood?

"Oh, fuck, fuck, shit, Didi, you stupid shit. You stupid fucking cunt. You fucking cut yourself? You did it on purpose, didn't you? To get me in trouble? I should leave your ass here, let you bleed to death. You stupid little bitch, you don't appreciate me, what I sacrifice for you every day!" Alex released his arms and paced behind him as Didi stared at the knife in his fist, unable to do anything other than bleed freely. "You fucking did this on purpose, I fucking know it."

He was sobbing uncontrollably, the pain was mind-numbing, and then he heard Alex shoving his shoes on. "Get the hell over here and put the stupid fucking knife down, you dumb little bitch."

As if he had been waiting for permission, his hand unclenched and the knife fell to the floor with a noise that was too loud. Alex's calloused hand closed around his upper arm and dragged him from the house. At some point a dish towel was wrapped around his hand, but he didn't know when.

"You'll pay for this," Alex threatened as he dragged Didi from the house to his car without shoes or a coat. "You'll tell them you cut yourself, an accident, and if you even breathe a word about me I will do more damage to you than that knife did. Do you understand me?" Didi nodded his head, his whole world still spinning from his impact with the sink, then Alex shoved him in the passenger seat hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.

D'metrius's eyes flew open then he squeezed them shut again, his hand aching. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He panicked and tried to cry out, but his lungs were flat and nothing came out. He sobbed silently, terrified of Alex's promised threat, his eyes shut tight, unable to open them, terrified to open them. After a moment his body relaxed enough for him to suck in a breath, and then he was sucking in deep breaths like he'd been drowning. His head swam as he went from not enough air to too much air and he hyperventilated for a while.

He didn't recognize where he was, and for a second he was sure he was back in Alex's apartment, but then a combination of the smell of foundation powder and Plastic by Trixie Mattel snaked into his brain like a soothing balm. The fear cooled a little, allowing his muscles to relax enough for him to move. He sat up, sobbing uncontrollably.

He'd never liked the scent of Plastic, it had always been a little too sweet for him, but Jimmy loved it, and now it filled him with way more comfort than the smell of perfume should.

It took him a long time to calm down, and even after he collected himself his hand still ached. He looked at his palm, could still see the faint line where he'd sliced his hand deep enough he needed fourteen stitches and lots of meat glue. He closed his eyes and sighed, deeply conflicted and now also unsettled by the reemergence of his recurring nightmare.

He'd been avoiding his apartment, partly because of Carlin, and partly because of Zion. After the couch sleeping incident before the NYE party he only ran into Carlin once, and he felt too many emotions to control. Before Carlin could even get a word out he turned on his heel and locked himself in his apartment just to avoid him. Zion's things made him feel overwhelmed and unworthy, so he threw enough of his stuff into a duffle bag and called Dean, then waited until he thought Carlin wouldn't be in the courtyard and escaped.

He stayed with Dean, or rather stayed in Dean's apartment for a week and a half while Dean played house with Ben, but Dean kicked him back to his own apartment when he finally admitted why he didn't want to go home, just the Zion part, not the Carlin part. Jimmy had taken him in after that, letting him sleep on his couch and commute to work from there with very few questions asked.

And now somehow it was already the gloomy middle of January and he'd been crashing/hiding at Jimmy's place for six days. He got up and folded his blankets, placing them neatly at the end of the couch. He heard the door open and turned to find Jimmy coming in, home from work.

"Hello darling," Jimmy announced. His coat wasn't even off, though he'd already kicked off his snowy shoes. He looked D'metrius over with a frown. "You ready to talk?"

D'metrius couldn't look at him. "Ah..."

"Lover, I've been more than patient, waiting five days already. If you don't wanna talk about it I can't help you."

"You can't help me with this," he muttered. "I just..."

Jimmy waited for him to finish, but he didn't know what else to say. "You don't wanna talk about it?" He shook his head. Jimmy sighed, his hands on his hips. "Fine, whatever. Go pack your stuff, lover, cause today's the day you're going home. Unless you wanna talk about it?"

"I don't wanna," he whined. "I'll just hop down to the laundromat and take care of-"

"Nope," Jimmy cut him off, pulling him up off the couch by his arms. "You're going home. If you don't wanna talk about it there's nothing else I can do for you right now. And, if nothing else, you need to sleep in a real bed for one night. No more running away from your problems."

"Who said I'm running away?" D'metrius snapped. Jimmy spared him a quick look, high-eyebrowed and well practiced, though not usually on him. "Fine, but I don't wanna go. I'll find a motel or something."

"No," Jimmy said, voice firm. "Dean and I have talked about this, and we both think that the best thing for you right now is to confront your problem head on. Get your shit packed, lover. The train leaves in fifteen minutes."

D'metrius muttered some choice words under his breath, but knew that he'd overstayed his welcome and that Jimmy wasn't gonna tolerate his shit any longer if he wasn't talking.

He grabbed his bag from behind the couch, then went to the bathroom to grab his toiletries, the few he'd brought. Jimmy's bathroom looked only slightly less cluttered than his own, every square inch of counter space filled with make up, skin care products, hair spray, mousse, nail polish, and glitter. Jimmy's counter only looked better because his bathroom had more counter space.

As he looked over Bambi's beauty products he felt calmer. More grounded. He collected his things, took a deep breath, then followed it with four more as he prepared himself to go home. He wished he hadn't had the nightmare, it wasn't helping his nerves. It'd been over two years since he'd last dreamed of Alex, and he had an idea of why he was having those dreams again.

Then again, Carlin didn't look anything like him. Didn't act like him. Carlin was absolutely D'metrius's type from before all of the shit with Alex turned south. He was everything D'metrius had been trying to stop himself from desiring, his muscles and body build screaming masculinity, the calluses on his hands, the intensity he had, and how possessive he was. It hurt his pride to see how flimsy his armor was, all it took was one mouth-watering stud showing any interest in him at all and he was ready to eat out of his hand. His only defense mechanism seemed to be that his longing for Carlin triggered whatever the emotional equivalent of muscle memory was to protect himself.

He didn't want to go home, was terrified of running into Carlin, but Dean and Jimmy were right. He needed to go home and straighten his shit out. He could only run for so long.

The car ride was quiet. He thought of a million things he wanted to say, a million thoughts he wanted to share with Jimmy, but he said nothing.

Jimmy parked in front of his building and turned his car off. "I'm not doing this to be mean, Metri."

He sighed. "I know," he said after a quiet, contemplative moment. "I know."

"You need to, I dunno. Something. I don't have what you need hiding in my couch cushions."

"I know."

"Lover, I really am worried about you, but-"

"I said I know," he snapped, then softened instantly when Jimmy flinched. "I'm just dealing with some shit, like, you know. My baggage."

"You know I don't pry," Jimmy began, turning to look at him. He turned to look out the passenger window, unable to bear his friend's pity. "I don't pry, but usually you open up by now. Usually you talk to me, but..."

"I'm having the dreams again," D'metrius said when Jimmy didn't continue.

"Alex?" He nodded, biting his lip to keep from getting emotional. "Shit."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Shit indeed."

"Why now?" Jimmy asked. "I thought that was, like, you were, um, you know. Better."

D'metrius sighed. "I am. I was. I dunno. Like, this guy from my building, he reminds me, like, he's, you know. What I used to be attracted to, and, um..."

Jimmy inhaled sharply. "Who? Do I know him? Do I need to fuck someone up, Metri? I would fuck anyone up for you, you know that, right?"

"I do." D'metrius sighed. "No, I don't need your fists just yet. He's, he just made me remember, I guess. He's not like Alex at all, that's not it. He's no one, just someone who lives in my building. I dunno, like, shit just seems fucked up with me. I can't find my mojo lately, for a while now. I guess he was just icing on the cake."

"What's his name?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it fucking matters," Jimmy snapped. "I care about you, Dean cares about you. We're worried about you."

D'metrius turned to Jimmy, then wished he hadn't. The look of concern on his face brought tears to his eyes. "You're both too nice," he said, turning away quickly so he didn't actually cry. "I'm okay. I'll get through it, I just, I dunno. Need to break out of my funk. I think Princess's straight boy got me a bit jealous. I mean, he deserves to be happy, if anyone deserves happiness it's Dean, don't get me wrong. Just, I'm jealous, you know?"

"Metri, no offence, but you always say you don't want relationships. Like, all the time. With heavy emphasis."

He shrugged. "I know it's stupid. I know it's duplicitous. I can't help it, and that I actually like Ben a lot makes it both better and worse."

Jimmy snorted. "Yeah, I know what you mean there. Like, how is he a real person? He's too perfect. It's not fair."

"What are you crying about? What about your long distance lady friend? From Chicago?"

Jimmy sighed. "She's... We decided to split. Distance really does kill a relationship, and to be fair, I think she was always jealous I was better at makeup, and looked better in makeup, then she ever was or will."

D'metrius chuckled. "Sorry. But, maybe that attitude didn't help." Jimmy chuckled, but didn't dispute it. "But, still, sorry to hear that it didn't work out."

Jimmy shrugged it off. "Not a big deal. It was a mutual decision. It's just so hard to find girls who like, you know, like me for me. Who I am, you know. As Jimmy, but also as Bambi."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know. I can tell you, it's not any easier being gay and a Queen."

"You think I don't know?" Jimmy snapped, then deflated. "Sorry, I know you know. I'm, I don't like seeing you this way. And, I miss Zion."

"I'm Zion, nard," he said, rolling his eyes affectionately.

"You know what I meant," Jimmy said.

"I do. I just, that's part of the problem. Like, I'm not okay, and I'm so worried that if I put her on that I'll fuck her up, too. I can't lose Zion, Jimmy. I can't risk ruining that for myself."

"I don't get it, Metri," Jimmy complained. "Like, Zion is your escape. How would you ruin her, if you need a break from Metri?"

He shook his head. "I dunno, it just feels like I would ruin it. I can't, I dunno. Sorry, I just..."

There was a moment of silence between them. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Other than let me live on your sofa?"

"Yes, other than letting you live on my sofa."

He chuckled, then sobered. "Not really. I just gotta get out of this funk, but I can't figure out how."

"You need something to change, lover," Jimmy declared. "Like, you need to make a change. Like when you started being Zion. After, um. You know. After Alex."

"Sure, but what?"

Jimmy shrugged. "That's the problem, isn't it?"

"That's the problem," he agreed.

"Want me to walk you up?" Jimmy asked.

He thought about it for a minute, then decided against it. As much as he wanted a buffer from Carlin if Carlin was in the courtyard, he couldn't handle it if Jimmy were to confront him, either. "Nah, I'm cool."

"You sure?"

He nodded and Jimmy looked nervous, but didn't push the issue. "I'll call you later. We're supposed to have brunch with Princess and Straight-bait on Saturday, right?"

"It's so fucking gay," Jimmy complained, smiling.

D'metrius nodded. "Super fucking gay." He tried to hold a serious face, then snorted out a laugh. "Later gater. Thanks again for letting me crash for a while. Sorry I made you kick me out."

Jimmy shrugged. "When a friend asks for help, you help them."

He nodded. "When a friend asks for help, you help them indeed. You're the best, Jimmy."

"I know, lover. Now, get out of my car, I've gotta date with youtube, brushes, and a bunch of wedges. Preaching my blending techniques for the kiddies at home. You know it's my civic duty."

"What would the internet do if you missed a make-up sesh?" D'metrius smiled, then climbed out of Jimmy's car. He grabbed his bag from the backseat, then hesitated. "Hey. Really. Thanks. I mean it."

"I know, lover. I'd die for you, figuratively, of course."

"Of course," he agreed. "Still. I appreciate you."

"Bye, Metri. Let me know if I need to beat up that guy from your building."

"You don't. Bye, Jimmy." He watched Jimmy drive away before entering the building, despite the chilled wind stealing his heat. He crept up the steps slowly, his pulse steadily increasing with each step, terrified and also longing to find Carlin drinking tea and reading a book. It would've been the right time, it was just around dinner time, prime for a Carlin in the courtyard spotting.