#frathouse boxboy

[deluxewhump]

Cam, Alex, Zee: Guilt Rituals

CW: BBU, frat house, bloody nose, marijuana and nicotine, alcoholism mentioned, abuse mentioned, dysfunctional family dynamics mention, multiple whumper household, non sexual intimacy, Cam feels feelings, Alex and Zee do asmr

*Takes place back in the house, Alex’s senior year, Cam’s junior year.

Cameron was smoking less lately, but not out of some noble quest for sobriety. He was actually more convinced than ever that life would be completely unbearable without some sort of chemical buffer.

But there was a huge creeping problem with weed, and it was introspection. He’d switched to another strain, but the problem remained. Every time he’d get high, what should have been a quieter plane of existence slightly above the trench warfare that was his junior year of college turned into a nightmarish mano a mano with himself.

Alcohol was out of the question still. Having an alcoholic parent will ruin certain things for you, most commonly alcohol. He watched his peers get gloriously drunk every weekend with no introspection whatsoever, just shameless extroverted bad behavior, but couldn’t bring himself to touch the stuff. The smell alone made him curdle with disgust. And if he went into it feeling such contempt, such hate, it was surely not going to go anywhere he wanted it to.

But even with weed now, he felt wave after wave of highly specific guilt, overblown and looming beside him like a parade float. It would start with how things ended with his dad, never to be reconciled in death, then bleed into the way he’d treated his mom when she actually reached out to him. Eventually it would spread like the veins of a river delta into all the shit with the boxboy, and Alex, and Dominic.

He could get a hold of himself enough to say fuck Alex and Dominic, for sure, but the guilt about Z2 grew stronger every time, until the pathways in his brain that go to the dank basement of regret and anguish were so well worn it was like he could just slide right down them and end up at the bottom— faster every time. In fact, he’d hit the bottom a while ago and had since started digging.

He tried to asphyxiate it by smoking more, until his hideously loud thoughts melted to nothing and he fell asleep with his throat stuck together and his mouth parched for water, too unwilling to climb back up into consciousness to go get it.

Eventually though, it stayed his hand when he went to smoke. The thoughts were easy enough to keep at bay sober. He was busy with school and work and chapter meetings. Only when he was high did he not have the skill to escape them. He thought longingly of something stronger, but knew he couldn’t fall so far as to indulge in that. It wasn’t that he didn’t know who to ask. It was his resentment for his mother that pushed him away from the siren song of harder drugs, ever since highschool.

So he found himself sober, as on most weeknights now, studying extra for an exam or organizing recruitment workshops with his brothers. Tonight, he talked himself into a small hit. A little hit wouldn’t hurt. He just needed to stop smoking quite so much, his tolerance was too high. One pull would just take the worst of the edge off.

It did, until it didn’t. He abandoned his schoolwork, leaving his weed in the locked drawer of his desk so he wouldn’t be tempted to smoke more, and found himself wandering around the house. They’d implemented a new chore system that was going poorly, and the house was kind of dirty. Not the worst it had ever been, but not as nice as it was when they made Zee do most of the cleaning. That had eventually been voted out, because too many of them felt bad. Not that they were offering to pick up the slack, they just felt bad watching him try to keep up with their sloppiness.

He remembered that vote. Who had suggested it, Alex or Dominic? One of them. He’d voted against the motion, but that wasn’t one of the things that chased him around his own brain at night.

He didn’t realize he was looking for Zee until he found him, sitting on the counter of the bathroom sink holding a wad of toilet paper to his face. He was with Alex, and his nose was bleeding.

Cam paused in the hallway, but not before an old wooden floorboard creaked. Alex looked up into the medicine cabinet mirror and their eyes met. Zee didn’t look to see who it was. He closed his eyes.

“What happened?”

Alex swung the bathroom door wider so he could look at him directly, instead of his reflection. “Why, are you sorry you missed it?”

He was glad for the one hit he’d taken. Even a small chemical buffer was necessary for him to be around Alex Clair. He wasn’t going to get any answers from him, not if he was in a sour mood. But he and Zee had been doing better lately. They had a kind of truce working, only Alex probably didn’t know that. He knew Zee liked Alex better than him, obviously, but he thought maybe their working relationship had come far enough that Alex would see it, despite his near constant self-righteous indignation.

“Z2?” Cam asked, still a full step outside the doorway. “What’s goin’ on?”

Zee opened his eyes and tilted his head down enough to look at him. He grinned almost apologetically under the wad of tissue— alarmingly red in places with bright blood. “Nothing. I think I have allergies or something. Dry sinuses.”

Alex gave Zee a leveling look and Zee returned his gaze to the ceiling to avoid it.

“To the pollen, or Mike and Tyler?” Cam asked

Alex turned his disapproval on him. “The class is missing their clown tonight, huh? Aren’t you usually leading the pack? All the most fucked up incidents I can remember around here were your brainchild. Even before he got here.”

This further confirmed Cam's suspicion that Alex had never liked him, even before they were at odds with the boxboy dilemma. The sting of rejection was familiar. It bothered him less than it used to, but it still added another tally mark somewhere in his head, another scratch in a long line of reasons justifying the nagging disdain he felt for everyone, even the people who are supposed to be his brothers. Supposed to give him a chance.

Alex raised his eyebrows at Cam’s unusual silence. “So, what’s it to you what happened to him this time?”

From his perch on the sink, Zee nudged Alex’s leg with his foot.

“What?” Alex hissed at him, though there was patience right behind the exasperation, a gentleness that did not exist two seconds ago when he was addressing Cam.

“I just wanted to check on you, Zee,” he said, deciding not to answer Alex at all. “Here.” He pushed past Alex and bundled fresh toilet paper into a wad, handing it to Zee. He took the bloodied one from him and threw it in the wastebasket, which was filthy and had not seen a plastic liner in months, if not longer than that.

Zee thanked him with a genuine smile— fleeting and secretive, like he didn’t want Alex to see it but was willing to risk it to make sure Cam did.

He didn’t know if it made it better or worse that Zee had been so receptive to his small changes of heart. It made him feel better on one hand, like if he could repair something as fucked as their relationship to each other he could tell himself it couldn’t have been that bad. On the other hand it made him feel worse. It was that bad. It definitely was. Zee was just short on allies, and possibly a bigger person than he was anyway. He was open to the grudging, embarrassed little kindnesses Cam was willing to offer and was too noble to hold his past actions against him. It made his past behavior look even uglier and smaller.

It made it worse that he’d been so deliberately, calculatedly cruel to him in the first place. Sometimes he wondered if he realized that Z2 was a person at first, and that boxies weren’t all some Frankenstein’s monster, some lobotomized AI in a flesh and blood package. But that wasn’t really true. Of course he knew. Everyone knows, deep down.

“C’mon,” Alex said, and helped Zee hop down off the counter. “You’re good now.”

“Will you do the thing?” Zee asked him.

“Yeah. Hell yeah. I could use it right now, too.”

“Use what?” he asked, following them.

“Get lost.”

“I have a right to know,” he said lamely, though he sort of did. He had pitched in for Zee, Alex had not. Alex was not, as they sometimes put it, a boxboy shareholder.

But Alex and Zee had history together that he and Zee did not. He knew that. Alex had always tried to protect him, sometimes locking him in his room for fourteen hours at a time and not letting anyone take him out. Cam had objected at first, but because Alex was Alex, everyone else just sort of let it ride. Another reason to hate Alex Clair.

“He can come if he’s quiet,” he overheard Zee.

“He’s not gonna be quiet. He’s incapable.”

“Shut up,” he said ineffectually as he followed them to Alex’s room.

Zee went inside first and sat down on the bed. Alex turned and held onto the door, deciding whether to let him in or not. Cam held two fingers up by his chest in a peace sign. “I’m not gonna be a dick, dude.”

He could tell Alex was skeptical, but shrugged and let him inside. Once he was in, they proceeded to completely ignore him. Alex turned off the light and switched on a blue lava lamp, just like the one Cams’s cousin had in his room growing up. Zee sat cross legged on the bed, watching Alex with trusting expectancy as he went to his laptop and started playing some weird ambient shit. He slid a disposable vape and a pencil off the desk into his hand and joined Zee on the bed.

Cam felt awkward standing, and helped himself to Alex’s computer chair. He spread his legs and swiveled back and forth a few inches, affecting casual comfort even though he’d never been in Alex’s room for more than a second, and never with the lights off.

The two of them sat facing each other on the bed. Zee was propped up by pillows behind him and Alex seemed satisfied without, his spine pin straight and his athletic shoulders relaxed.

“Four counts,” he said, hitting the vape and then handing it to Zee. Zee hit it and set it on his knee. Alex started them off on some breathing ritual; in four counts, hold for four, exhale, hold for four, and then begin again. Cam tried to copy them without them catching on, inhaling quietly when they inhaled and waiting for Alex to give the cue to exhale. It was immediately calming, like Alex had reached to the back of his neck and hit an override button in his brain. He didn’t like it.

“You two just come in here and breathe weird?”

“Another word and you’re out,” Alex warned.

He laughed. “Understood.”

“Try it,” Zee whispered, opening his eyes just long enough to glance over at him.

“I’m good,” he answered, but something in Zee’s eyes made him think he already knew he had been, a moment ago.

“Hands first?” Alex asked.

Zee held out his hands palm up and Alex took them in his, a gesture so intimate but casual that it shocked him more than if Alex had slapped their boxboy in the face.

He held each of Zee’s hands in his as if warming them, rubbing over a wide surface area at first, followed by slower, massaging sweeps of his thumbs over the open palms. He spread each finger and rubbed the length of it, rubbing circles on the finger pads and back down over each knuckle til he reached old callouses, all the way to his wrists. He watched with growing agitation as Zee relaxed visibly.

When he decided he was done, Alex turned Zee’s palms down on his plaid comforter and picked the vape off Zee’s knee, hitting it before placing it between Zee’s lips for him. Zee took a drag without bothering to ever open his eyes.

He then picked up the pencil he’d brought from his desk and Cam made a face, wondering what in the fuck he was possibly going to do with a pencil and also feeling the agitation in his lower belly grow into an ache in his chest, a tingling of his scalp.

“Eyes closed,” Alex said gently, though Zee’s eyes were closed already. He meant it as a reminder to keep them closed, Cam knew instinctively. To stay still. He took the pencil and used it to draw along Zee’s face, using the soft pink eraser on his skin. Cam’s breath caught strangely in his chest. It looked gentle as tracing, light and maybe ticklish but also satisfying. He traced slow ovals around Zee’s face, over his cheeks and up to his hairline, down again beneath his chin. Zee breathed serenely, a grin pulling the corners of his mouth now and then. Alex lifted the eraser tip to do four points instead, tapping down oh so gently on his cheeks, forehead, chin, in first a predictable pattern and then an unpredictable one.

He felt soothed by proxy, an even more so than with the rhythmic breathing. Yet he was uncomfortable, almost alarmingly so, because it felt like Alex was the author of it, and he couldn't stand Alex, but watching him with Zee was intoxicating. They’d clearly done this little ritual before. If Zee was in half a trance, Alex seemed to be enjoying himself just as much, eyes low and a small smile on his face as he tapped and traced and tapped. Cam thought he would probably be able to hear his own heartbeat if it wasn’t for that music that was playing in the background. He was grateful for it now.

Alex finally stopped, drawing the eraser tip down the sloping bridge of Zee’s nose a few times before taking the pencil away. He squeezed Zee’s left hand, which seemed to tell Zee it was safe to open his eyes. He looked almost drugged, happy, eyes shining and low.

“I could sleep,” he said to Alex, who nodded.

“Go ahead.”

But he turned those glassy eyes toward him instead, knowing and cunning despite their alleged innocence. “You wanna try it, Cameron?”

“I don’t even know what I just watched.”

“You never did anything like that?” Alex asked, uncrossing his legs and stretching over his left hamstring. “It’s just made-up whatever. But if you add the box breathing, it’s pretty powerful. I had to think of some way to calm him down when he first got here. You guys were relentless. He was in fight or flight constantly. It was really bad.”

Cam set his teeth against the accusation, but didn’t drop his eyes from Alex’s level blue gaze. He knew it was bad. He held out his hand for the vape. Alex gave it to him and he pulled deep, lungs filling with candy flavored nicotine. Almost immediately, he felt the head buzz that came with it.

“You mean you want me to do it to you, Zee?”

Zee was nestled in a pile of Alex’s pillows like a housepet. “If you wanted. Or Alex can show you.”

Cam laughed reflexively. He glanced at Alex, who was giving Zee a funny look. “I’ll pass.”

“Yeah, me too, thanks,” Alex said dryly.

“You sure you’re gonna let me near him with a pencil? Or is that considered a weapon?”

“If he wants you to do it,” Alex shrugged, and handed him the pencil. “Whatever.”

Now that it was actually happening, he felt strange. His heart was pounding lightly, like it always did the first time a girl he’d never had before started getting undressed. It’s Z2, he told himself. Get it together. But it was Alex, too, and he was in their space, doing their weird thing. He sat close to Zee as Alex had and felt awkward that he didn’t have a plan for a preamble, like Alex did with the breathing and the hand thing.

“Wanna hold your hand out first?”

Zee did. He started there but with the pencil, tracing the eraser tip lightly over the lines of his palm. Zee smiled and squirmed on an exhale like it was a lot of sensation, and Cam paused. “No?”

“No, yeah,” Zee said, looking at him more directly than he had in the past, whenever Cam was being antagonistic. “It’s good.”

Cam had a sudden, bright memory of holding a fistful of his reddish brown hair as he buzzed the other half off in the bathroom sink. He continued with the pencil tip, like a feather.

Alex flipped onto his back on his bed, casual and composed as always, belonging everywhere he set foot— never awkward, or disliked, or challenged. He watched the two of them serenely as he hit the yellow vape. “Who knew you could act like a normal human being, Cameron?” was his only snipe. It was said in a quiet enough voice that Cam felt he could let it go unchallenged.

“Close your eyes,” he said, ready to trace Zee’s face.

Zee gave him a steady, head-on glance before doing as he asked.

[whumpawink]

My Favorite Whump (or whump-y) Series

@pretty-face-breaker ‘s Emir’s Masterlist (1973)

@deluxewhump ‘s The Blackmuir Reign

@deluxewhump ‘s True North

@whumpwillow ‘s Hazeshift

@whump-in-the-closet ‘s Liberosis

@ashintheairlikesnow ‘s Erase to Control

@whumpering-heights ‘s Behind the Masks

@deluxewhump ‘s Frathouse Boxboy (Z2) (some NSFW)

@whumpsday ‘s Kane and Jim

@/coldresolve ‘s Moneymakers (pls do not tag as whump)

@whumblr ‘s :

Home is Where the Hurt is

Custody Series

@painsandconfusion ‘s With You

@whump-world ‘s Deal with the Devil (NSFW)

@spookyboywhump ‘s Wren/Zander/Cain

@whumpshaped ‘s Devil... h-hot... (crack whump) (SOME NSFW)

@whumpshaped ‘s 7 Minutes in Hell

@whumpzone ‘s Linden and Colton (SOME NSFW)

Tomas and Rowe

@the-bloody-sadist ‘s Dancing with Death

@hurting-fictional-people ‘s Whumpee Betrays Caretaker

@whump-tr0pes ‘s Honor Bound

@whumpers-inc ‘s Who Wants To Be A Whumpee?

@thoughtsonhurtandcomfort ‘s Arrin and Alex (SOME NSFW)

@secretwhumplair ‘s No Warrior (some implied NSFW)

@whumpacabra ‘s The Black Knight

@ shameless whumper’s Jericho series

(since this is gonna be ongoing and constantly edited pls lemme know if every time i edit it tags yall again and i’ll unlink the @‘s 😅💖)

[sordayciega]

Masterlist-esque

because i need organization in my life.

cw: various posts/links contain nsfw & non-con at least once! they will be given a ⚠️ label.

drabbles and long posts 📜

touch starved whumpee drabble by @unleashthehoundsofwhump

defiant whumpee drabble from @whump-or-whatever written by @sordayciega

hypnotized whumper drabble written by @sordayciega (me)

my little flour by @sordayciega (me again)

⚠️ alien whump part 1

alien whump part 2

albino whumpee

mermaid whumpee

posts 📃

touch starved whumpee

hypnotized whumper

optimistic defiant whumpee

abusive relationship whump

stitches for whumpee

singing whumpee

⚠️ sadistic beauty BL manga

hurt disguised as comfort

angel captive yt

immediately obedient whumpee

making whumpee flinch

shitposts 🗒

whumpee mocking whumper

tongue whump potential

procrastination is my middle name

some of my favorite series 🗃

— V A M P I R E W H U M P —

🩸Ash & Callum by @whumping-every-day

🩸Cat and Mouse by @t0rture-memoved

🩸Kane & Jim by @whumpsday

🩸Bloodbag!Carlo by @deluxewhump

🩸The Heart and The Hunger by @wolfeyedwitch

🩸 Blue Monday (Egon and Simon) by @thecyrulik

🩸Deal with The Devil (demon not vampire) by @whumpshaped

🩸Auden’s Story (demon not vampire) by @whumpitisthen

— H U M A N W H U M P —

💧⚠️ Frathouse boxboy (Z2) 1 by @deluxewhump

💧⚠️ Frathouse boxboy (Z2) 2 by @deluxewhump

💧 ⚠️ Behavior Modification by @whumpcereal

💧 ⚠️ Brother’s Keeper by @darkthingshappen

💧 ⚠️ SV-240 by @galaxywhump

💧⚠️ Asa & Hayes by @lonewhumper

💧⚠️ Linden and Colton (recovery) by @whumpzone

💧⚠️ Master Galo series by @haro-whumps

💧⚠️ Second-Hand Goods by @echo-goes-mmm

💧Into the Woods Somewhere by @knivestothroats

💧 The Stars At Night, Are Big 'N Bright *clapclapclapclap* Deep In The Heart Of Fucking Outer Space (giant/tiny) by @showrunnerihardlyknowher

💧Home is where the hurt is by @whumblr

💧With You by @painsandconfusion

💧 guns for hire by @avvail-whumps

💧 Whumptober 2022 (3 mini series) by @whump-me-all-night-long

— N O N - S E R I E S W H U M P —

⛓ The Merry Whump of May by @painsandconfusion

⛓ Oneshot Drabble Masterlist by @whumpitisthen

[whumpsday]

BBU Community Days #9: Owned

here are two of my favorite BBU pieces taking place during captivity!

The Cedar Chest from Zee / Frathouse Boxboy by @deluxewhump

This is still one of my favorite whump pieces ever, let alone just BBU pieces. It was the first BBU writing I ever reblogged to this blog. The claustrophobia, the way Zee tries so hard to comply and is still shoved in the box for absolutely no reason. THE BEGGING. The careless party-guy atmosphere is built up so well, and you can really feel Zee's fear. I literally have parts of this memorized I've re-read it so often. Bee has left whump behind, but I will always look back on her writing fondly.

Excerpt:

“You are a Box Boy, right? Shouldn’t we keep you in a box when we’re done playing with you?” “Gross.” Someone gestures at the blood on his knees, on the floor.  “N…..no,” Zee whispers, eyes widening. He pushes back against Michael’s hand on the back of his neck. “Please. Tyler, please. Michael?” Tyler nods to Michael and he pushes Zee forward toward the box. He doesn’t mean to fight, to struggle. He doesn’t. He wants to be good but they make it so hard. He can’t go inside that. He can’t it’s too small, it’s too SMALL for him, they can’t close the lid and he’d be inside, they could bury him alive in the dirt he’d never get out, he’d dig at the top with his fingernails til they split and broke and run out of air. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s struggling until two more boys rush into help Michael, grabbing Zee’s wrists and holding them tight, picking up his legs and setting him in.  “No! Nonono pleeeease, pleeeeease I’ll do anything— I’ll stay on the, the caps. I’ll drink the king’s cup, I swear, I swear to god— please— pl...nonono, I was good! I was good!”  Michael’s hand covers his mouth with bruising force. He tries to scream for Alex, looking wildly at the people around him for a friendly or sympathetic face as they wrestle him into the box, legs tucked up so he’ll fit. 

Corset from Seven Series by @whump-queen

AAAAA AKIA... I LOVE SEVEN... I love how this piece showcases Seven's learned helplessness. He can reason that his owner wouldn't want Kiarra to hurt him, and he wants Kiarra to stop hurting him, but he doesn't take the obvious route of informing Antoine, because he's so conditioned into just accepting whatever pain anyone wants to give him. The whump aspect is also really unique and well-done. Not just being forced into a too-tight corset, but being forced to complete his domestic work with it on? OUCH.

Excerpt:

“P-please, no, no more—I can’t— can’t take—” “Oh you can’t take any more?” She sounds angry, Seven has overstepped, no no please— “I-I’m sorry M—" As if out of pure spite, she gives one final, brutal tug, and Seven cries out, his eyes are squeezed shut, his head is spinning. He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t— “See, you can take it after all, can’t you.”  She grabs his shoulder and spins him around, and a delighted smile spreads across her face when she finally sees his expression—His cheeks are red, his eyes are lidded, small beaded tears glisten in the corners, threatening to spill over at any second. His lips are bitten red and bloody and parted as he desperately gasps for air.  He looks as if he might pass out. Perfect. “Put your shirt back on,” she orders, and while Seven stumbles over to the chair to retrieve his button-down shirt, she continues, “You are to return to your duties now, Seven.” Panicked eyes shoot up at her from where he’s fumbling with the buttons, “W-what?”

@bbu-on-the-side

[whumpeesblog]

@deluxewhump - zee :)

Please open the images individually to see them properly 👀 ❤

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Have this late night doodle of @deluxewhump s Baby Z2 being sad.

The foto is sadly a bit low in quality but the scanner is in my roommates room and he would kill me if i tried to use it in the middle of night. Soooo you all gotta live with this foto i took in poor lightning.

[lost-tanuki-tales]

Frathouse Boxboy - Alex finds out that Cam didn’t just cut Zee’s hair that one time

Z2, Alex and Cam belong to @deluxewhump (Frathouse Boxboy series).

Z2 sits shaking on the bed and waits. Alex told him to sit and wait, even though Z2 is staining the sheets with slimy remains of the garbage he was dumped in out there, behind the house. Cold, dirty water drips from his clothes and spreads out on the soft fabric of Alex's bed. It's fine, Z2 promises himself, he'll wash everything as soon as Alex lets him. 

He doesn't know what the other boy is doing. Alex disappeared into the bathroom earlier and there's only been the sound of running water coming from there since then. Just as he wonders again what Alex could be doing, the latter reappears in the doorway and walks to the bed.

"Are you still cold?"

Z2 would have lied no, but Alex likes when he says the truth and he's never been punished for saying it in front of him. So Z2 says: "Less than before."

Alex nods and pulls him up by the hand to guide him outside. Z2 notes that the light in the hallway makes the other boy’s blond hair shine prettily just before Alex nudges him inside the bathroom. Z2 steps in and his gaze quickly roams around the room- a habit, to assess what he needs to do and the potential danger he might have been thrust in- and his heart drops when he sees the water peacefully rippling in the tub. He stops dead in his tracks.

Alex bumps into the taller boy because of the sudden halt and the impact against his back makes Z2 cringe away from the full tub. Alex is confused at first as to why Z2′s hand jerked out of his own so brutally, and then his blue eyes widen when he sees the look of utter betrayal on Z2's face.

"Zee...?" He sounds confused. "What's wrong?"

"Please," pleads Z2. His voice comes out in a whisper, his throat is tight. Blood thrums in his ears.

He's scared, he can't believe Alex would do this to him, but Z2 knows it's stupid to feel so shocked when he's only ever been just a boxboy. He must have deserved this. He frantically tries to remember at what point he disappointed his Masters enough to warrant this punishment. Maybe Alex is mad that Z2 didn't tell him the whole truth about what happened the time Cam shaved his hair. He shouldn't have lied.

"What's going on?" Alex reaches out for him and it makes Z2 flinch away. His wet foot slides on the pristine ceramic floor of the bathroom and he barely manages to catch himself on the side of the tub.

When Z2 realizes what he's holding onto, he immediately braces his arms against it. Alex is shorter than Cameron and he's alone, so Z2 has more chances of resisting hands pressing down on his nape and shoulders, but he knows that in the end he'd have to let it happen. He'd be able to resist, but never for long. The steam coming up from the bath caresses his face and it makes his skin crawl. The sound of running water is too loud in his ears. He can already feel the water surging up his nose and throat, burning his sinuses, filling up his aching lungs. He already wants to cough and hack. Z2 is scared.

"No," Z2 chokes out. "Alex, I'm sorry for not telling you, please don't make me..."

"Not telling me what?" Alex crouches next to him but doesn't try to touch him again. "Zee, what?"

"I- I didn't tell you, I'm sorry." Z2's voice wobbles, but he tries to regain control of himself. It'll only anger his Master if he continues to blubber like a pitiful child. "I didn't tell you everything that happened because I, it was already difficult to tell you that Cam cut my hair, and I don't know, I just didn't. I know I should have. I promise, I didn't mean to lie to you. I'm sorry, Alex. I'm sorry."

"Zee." There's something sharp in Alex's voice that makes Z2's belly flip. "What did Cameron do to you?"

Alex wants an answer and he wants it now. Z2 knows he made a mistake trying to keep things from him, he knows he should just get it over with as fast as he can and tell Alex what he wants to know. Z2 knows the price for making a Master wait, and he doesn't want to suffer, but the words won't come out so easily. "I- He took me by the neck. He... He pushed on it, and- and-" He falters, and then he flinches, knowing he's going to get hit for taking so long to speak. Nothing comes. Z2's eyes cautiously crack open and he peers up at Alex. Alex doesn't look mad. He's waiting.

"He pushed me down with another boy's help," Z2 continues in a faint voice. "They held my head down. Underwater. I..." He bunches up his pants with his fists. "I thought I was going to die. I thought- I thought I was going to drown. I couldn't," his voice wavers again, "I couldn't breathe. I was scared. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Alex, I'm sorry, I know I should have. Please don't do that to me again. I promise I'll be good, I promise I'll always tell you the truth."

Alex's expression was getting stormy but when Z2 starts apologizing and pleading again, his face falls and he quickly wraps his arms around Z2's back and pulls him close. "Hey, hey, calm down, I didn't know it would scare you like that. I'm not going to hurt you, okay? The bath was just to warm you up."

"I'm sorry," says Z2 in a small voice. Remembering what Cam did to him makes him want to cry even more. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I know, but it's fine, I promise. I'm not mad at you for that. I'm not mad at you at all." Z2 flinches when he feels a hand settle atop his short hair but relaxes when Alex says: "It's okay, Zee. It's okay."

The hand starts gently petting the back of his head and Z2 realizes that the reason Alex's voice is so soft is because he has been crying. His breath is shaky and his face is soaked. He's still shivering even though he's not cold anymore and he doesn't understand why, and he suddenly feels very tired. Z2 finally understands that he's safe, that Alex never meant him any harm. He buries his face in the warm crook of Alex's shoulder and sobs when he can't keep pretending any longer that nothing happened in the bathroom back then.

/!\ Please proceed with caution if you want to explore the Boxboy Universe as it features trafficking/slavery, and so often abuse, nonconsensual acts and institutionalized/pet whumpees. 

N.B: If anyone is interested, I could also post the story of what exactly happened to Z2 before Alex brought him to the bedroom for a bath!

[gottalovethemwriters]

Based on Zee’s self-starvation scenario

All characters belong to the amazing @deluxewhump. Check out her Frathouse Box Boy series, it’s dope.

Special thanks to @whump-tr0pes for proof-reading and making sure this was understandable. You’re the absolute best. Thank you ❤️

For context, this happens some time after Cam and Alex fight over Z2’s collar. You can find the initial ask for the scenario here.

Cw: self harm, self-starvation, disordered eating, food, self punishment, dehumanization (human pet). Please let me know if I forgot something!

***

Zee jumps a little as Cam heavily drops on the couch next to him. He’s sat on the floor, his head bent down, legs drawn to his chest and arms tightly wrapped around them. It’s been a little less than three days since he’s last eaten or drank anything, and he’s been dizzy all day, slower at completing his chores than he usually is. Alex and Dom had noticed his growing weakness pretty early on and had tried to coax him into eating something, in vain. 

He knows, though, that he won’t be able to keep his fast going for much longer, and the fact that he’s already fainted twice that day had proven him right. 

“So, Zeezee,” Cam says, and Z lifts his head to look at him. “I hear you’re on a little hunger strike. ‘that your new hobby?”

Zee drops his gaze to look at his hands and twists them guiltily. 

“I don’t... It’s not a... strike. I just...”

He shrugs a little, lets his eyes wander around the common room. Looks everywhere but in Cam’s direction. 

“I just don’t think I- I deserve to eat for a little while.”

Cam tilts his head and stares at the side of Zee’s face that he can see, looking almost genuinely curious. Like he actually cares how Zee feels. “And what makes you think that?”

“Well...” Zee’s eyes flick back to Cam’s, and he swallows hard as they land on the black eye the other boy wears, then drops his gaze on his hands again. “It’s, um, it’s my fault you and Alex got into a fight. It’s because of me.” He blinks twice, rapidly, before adding, “I thought I, um, thought I should be p-punished.”

The statement hangs in the air between them. Cam stares at him for a moment, brows furrowed, then reaches a hand and grabs Zee’s chin, turning his head so he would look at him but Z won’t meet his eyes. 

“Zee, look at me.”

Z obeys almost immediately. He knows it’s one thing to disobey Alex and Dom, to ask them to leave him alone, to stop coaxing him into eating something, but Cam’s different. He knows you don’t negotiate with Cam. 

“Who said you get to decide how you get punished?” There’s a mean smile on Cam’s lips, and Zee’s chin is still in his hands, fingers digging into his skin. 

Z shifts uncomfortably. He wants to pull away, wants to close his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Cam’s face, at his left eye. Swollen. Bruising. Black. The guilt that has been twisting his guts for the past three days tugs at him again, and he blinks back tears at the thought that it’s his fault, his fault, his fault that Cam got hurt. He lowers his glance sheepishly. 

“What’s it gonna be next, huh, Zeezee?” Cam continues, voice hard. “You’re gonna want your own bed? Your own room? Gonna start walking around the house like you own the fucking place, think you’re your own person, maybe?" Cam’s eyes fall on Zee’s neck. “You’re gonna want to take your fucking collar off?”

Zee shrinks back and closes his eyes against the poison in Cam’s voice, feeling the panic seize him. His words come out in a rush, he doesn’t even have to think about them, it’s pure instinct by now. 

“No, of course not, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry- I won’t, won’t do it again-”

“You better not,” Cam snaps. “Don’t need you fainting around because you’re too weak to do what we got you for in the first place. Now wait here.” 

He lets go of Zee’s face and stands up, heads to the kitchen. Zee watches as he grabs a bottle of water on the counter and opens the oven, pulls out a pizza box. He’s planned it out. Of course he’s planned it out, he thinks, massaging his jaw where the other boy’s fingers had dug. Then Cam comes back to the common room, drops the food and the water on the coffee table and looks pointedly at Zee. “Eat.”

Z swallows and slowly extends a hand to take the bottle of water. He hesitates a few more moments before opening it, and Cam watches as he takes one small, shy sip. 

“More”, he says sternly. 

Zee brings the bottle back to his mouth, and this time he takes huge, eager gulps. He’d been holding on okay without water until then, but after having the first few drops fall on his tongue, his throat seemed to remember how much it had missed it over the past three days. He’s almost emptied the bottle when Cam speaks again, taking the bottle away. “Slow down, you idiot,” he says, and his tone is softer. “You’re gonna get sick. Here, have a slice.” 

He reaches for the box and opens it, and Zee recognizes the leftovers of the pepperoni pizza the boys had the night before. He looks at Cam again, then grabs a slice and hungrily bites into it. Despite his initial resolutions, his body is grateful for the food, and eagerly accepts it. Both boys sit in silence while he chews, and once he’s finished, Cam gestures for him to take a second slice.

He’s almost done eating when Cam stands up again, ready to leave now that his mission’s complete, but a small movement on Z’s part stops him.

“T-Thank you,” the boy says shyly, keeping his head down. 

Cam looks at him from where he’s already standing, face hard again.

“I never want to hear about you starving yourself, or harming yourself in any way again, Zee. D’you hear me?” Z nods. “You’re our property, which means we get to decide what to do with you. Stay at your fucking place.” A pause, and then, ”You’ve done enough damage as it is.” Zee looks up at the words, eyes landing on Cameron’s black eye again.

Cam turns to leave, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “I like my things looked after.” And then he walks away.

[writehardwhumpharder]

Z2 and the BB gun

Disclaimer: These are @deluxewhump characters and this story is not canon. Going off the idea that Z2 was super rebellious and had a criminal record before becoming a box boy I got to thinking, did his training really get rid of all those old skills and habits? 

"Hey check it out, I brought this from home it's my old bb gun." Cam smiled.

"So? What are we supposed to do with that?" Dom asked as he passed by the kitchen.

"Shoot things duh."

Dom rolled his eyes on his way out. There was no point trying to stop him. "Don't kill yourselves. Or do, I don't care."

"I've got a target too, we can nail it to the tree," Cam added excitedly.

Most of the guys were only interested in shooting in video games but Tyler shrugged and got up. A couple others who had just been playing on their phones joined too.

"Is it even legal? We're not exactly in a rural area." Tyler said.

Cam lifted the box of extra metal balls and shook it around, "It's totally legal and basically harmless. Hurts like hell to get shot with one but it's not dangerous." He explained.

Ten minutes later Cam was leading a group of five guys into the backyard. He put a random brick down in the grass to mark where to stand and had the target nailed to the farthest tree about 50 feet away.

"Who wants to go first?" He asked.

They all looked at each other for a second before someone stepped forward to the brick. Cam handed him the gun with a smirk. The frat boy fired at the target, missing completely at first. On his second try it hit the edge, still not very accurate.

"I'll give it a go, I can definitely do better than that," Tyler said, immediately turning it into a competition. Though he only did marginally better than the other guy.

Tyler went to pass the gun back to Cam but he stopped him. "Hold on a sec. I'm gonna go get Z2. He'll hate this."

Cam found him cleaning up in the kitchen and grabbed his wrist to drag him outside.

"What's going on?" Z asked.

"You'll see."

The other boys took turns shooting at the target... and other things. Let’s just say their neighbor now had one less bird feeder. By the time Cam came back it needed to be reloaded so they all stepped aside as he filled it with tiny metal balls.

"Here, I'll show you how it's done, then it's your turn," Cam said. Z's face twisted with discomfort and Tyler laughed to himself noting that Cam was right, Z2 does hate this. Three loud cracks split through the air a few seconds apart. Cam lowered the gun to see how he'd done. Two hit the second innermost ring and one was in the next ring out. Not bad considering he hasn't shot this thing since he was in high school.

"Your turn. Aim for the target, you've got three tries." Cam said, holding out the gun. Z made no move to take it and even took a step back when it was thrust at him. "Take it! That's an order."

The other boys tensed slightly at the scene unfolding. The anxiety was clear on Z's face.

"Please. I don't want to."

"Are you disobeying us?" Tyler asked.

"No... I-" Z started. A single tear slipped from his eye.

"Oh my God look he's crying!" One guy shouted as he slapped his friend on the back. They both laughed at their scared box boy.

Cam's smile was even more sadistic than theirs, "I'll make you a deal. If you can hit the target three times you can go back inside." He said. It was meant to be an impossible deal. The sight on the bb gun was warped to the left, throwing off anyone who wasn't used to it.

Z sniffled, "then I can go inside?" He confirmed.

Cam set a hand on his shoulder, "Sure, buddy." Z really didn't want to shoot it, even though it was just a bb gun. This sort of thing made him extremely nervous. Maybe because he expected the bb gun to be turned on him at some point. His hands shook slightly as he accepted the gun. Cam and the frat boys exchanged pleased looks as Z stepped up to the brick. Taking a deep breath, Z2 raised the bb gun in his right hand so that it was pointed towards the target. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were different. More serious, cold somehow. Cam stood behind him.

"Okay now just-"

Z pulled the trigger. He fired 3 pellets as quickly as he could at the target then let the bb gun swing down to his side. It was easy to tell which marks on the target were his because they were all clustered in the very center. Not just in the middle ring, but the actual center.

Tyler stepped forward and squinted at the target, looking to see where Z's shots went. It took him a second to realize, "oh."

Cam looked down at Z with surprise and just a hint of anger. "Give me that," he demanded, prying the gun out of Z2's hand.

"Can I?"

"Yes, you can go now," Cam snapped. He hadn't expected him to even hit the target. Z scurried away in his usual submissive demeanor leaving the rest of them to gawk at each other.

"I guess he's a natural huh."

Cam looked in the direction Z had just run off in then back at the target. "No. He's had practice. A lot of it."

[i-like-windex]

Z2 and self-deprication

This is a “fanfiction” type thing of @deluxewhump story Frathouse boxboy! ⚠Warning⚠ this story will contain self-deprecation, self-harm, negative self image

    Zee looked at himself in the mirror, a million thoughts racing through his head as he gazed at the different marks and imperfections that plagued him. He had stood there in the bathroom, wondering why the boys in the fraternity would even want him. Of course, the way they treated him could be considered practically inhumane, but at least they had never thrown him out into the street, or threatened to send him back to the place they bought him from.

   He was shirtless, poking at the ribs that were beginning to stick out of his skin, sighing as he saw the countless bruises that littered his body. Zee was scared, he was so incredibly scared. Scared of the fact that he could be so easily discarded at the snap of a finger, they could in fact get rid of him, they could buy a different boy and forget Zee like he was nothing more than a spec of dirt.

    That constant worry and the idea that he could be thrown away at any moment, or that the boys could literally beat him or let him starve to death shredded any form of self-love or comfort he had.

“Stupid,” he muttered to himself, looking up at the weak boy in the mirror. The boy who acted strong all day, holding in his cries during any form of torture he sustained, but still clung to his pillow and sobbed every single night, letting horrendous nightmares overtake his subconscious. He felt so undeniably ugly, with his hair growing matted and unruly, and his body getting paler and scrawnier by the day. How could any one love him when he didn’t even love himself?

“Ugly,” Zee sighed softly, he knew it was time. He grabbed the razor from the bathroom counter, he had stolen it from Cam yesterday, and he prayed that he wouldn’t notice that the piece of plastic had strangely disappeared out of his room. Zee tried to stifle any noise he would make while he broke away the plastic to retrieve what he really wanted, the blade.

    He cracked the plastic, gasping as it made a shockingly loud noise. With that, he pulled one of the 4 blades out, throwing the rest of it to the side, almost instantly feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt as he realized he had just broken something that had belonged to Cam. Zee picked up the blade, trying his best to replicate what he had occasionally seen on TV. He didn’t even know if it was something people actually did, or if it was just something that happened in movies and TV shows, but he didn’t really care, he just knew that this would hurt him.

   Zee shakily brought the blade up to his wrist, dragging it back and forth, not breaking the skin yet. He was confused, from what he had seen it was supposed to be easy, he should of had red lines present on his skin with blood beginning to bubble out of it. Instead, he had pinkish lines like scratches on his wrist, he wanted more he needed more. So that’s what Zee did, he pushed down harder, practically jerking the blade back and forth in a haphazard pattern. There were criss-cross lines, some deeper than others. A few were scarily deep, bleeding at an alarming rate, and others barely broke the surface of his skin.

“Who’s in the bathroom, I need to fucking piss!” A voice called out that Z2 almost instantly recognized as the one and only Cam.

“Shit!” Zee whisper shouted, tossing the blade into the trashcan next to the toilet. He never swore much, he never really learned how to, but living with college boys, Zee picked it up rather quickly.

“Zee?!” Cam shouted in shock, grabbing the doorknob and pushing open the bathroom door that was surprisingly, and luckily unlocked. Cam couldn’t help the feeling of fear and anger that began forming, he was worried, Zee never swore and he knew better than being in the bathroom for 10 minutes, let alone going to the bathroom by himself!

    He felt frozen as he saw Zee sat on the tile floor, a razor in his hand and blood dripping onto the floor and on the hoodie that Dominic had given him. Upon Cam’s entry, Z2 quickly tucked his arm into his chest, trying his best to hide the cuts that now covered his arms

“ZeeZee... what the hell did you do!” Cam shouted, dropping down to his knees with frustration present in his actions. Of course he was overwhelmingly concerned for Zee, seeing that he had hurt himself, but another part of him was furious, how dare Z2 destroy what was his.

     He lurched forward and yanked Zee’s hand away from his chest, pulling it close to him in an attempt to asses the damage he had caused to himself.

“M’sorry, I didn’t want to make Cammy upset,” Zee whimpered, he was shaking softly, he never meant to hurt any of the boys, especially not Cam. Z2 would never admit it, but deep down, Cam was his favorite. He felt awful saying that, knowing that Dominica and Alex were the ones who took care of him, and Cam, if he was being honest, probably treated him the worst out of any of the boys in the fraternity.

“You didn’t make me upset, I’m just... disappointing. If you ever want to hurt yourself again, you come to me, understood?” Cam stated calmly, examining the cuts, wincing as his eyes caught a particularly deep one on his left wrist, blood was practically pouring out of it.

“I’m going to go get Dom to patch you up, but before I go come here Zee Zee,” Cam said with a crooked half-smile slowly replacing his usual hard and stone cold expression. Z2 hesitently inched forward, suprise filling him as Cam wrapped his arms around him, stroking his fingers up Zee’s back.

“I don’t want you hurting yourself,” Cam sighed, it was quiet, almost like he didn’t really want to stay it out loud.

“I understand,” Zee replied quietly, watching as Cam stood up and left the bathroom, going to find Dominic, hoping that he would be able to bandage Zee up, and that they wouldn’t have to resort to taking him to the hospital.

[cats-and-other-garbage]

((a fan fic based on @deluxewhump 's series max and Carlo, and the boxboy frathouse. Special thanks to my boyfriend for editing my God awful spelling and grammar, and thanks to @deluxewhump for writeing such amazing work to inspire my first fan fic))

Carlo sat in class, shifting quietly in his seat. He was nervous, anxious even. The last time he had showed up to this class, there had been the guest speaker incident. So you could imagine his distress as the topic that had been discussed seemed to have become a whole ass unit, because yet again it was the highlight of class. He was initially tuning it out when suddenly he kept hearing “Z2” as if it were a name. It even kept being put in the same sentence as “boxboy” and “frathouse”. If his breath wasn't already speeding up, and his heart pounding, what sent him yet again over the edge was the girl sitting in front of him pulling out a picture of a poor, underfed boy about his age to show the class. The boy was at some sort of party it seemed, and while Carlo didn't see much else, he saw the wavy auburn hair and dark, scared eyes that sent his mind all the way back to the mirror in Eric's room. 

As he yet again left the classroom in a crying panic, both the image of this Z2 in his head and his own reflection burning into his brain. 

***

That was a month ago. And now In an attempt to avoid yet another party, Zee had asked Dom to take him to his football game, which had gone over well. “Did you even have to ask? “ Dom had said as he shot a smile. sitting on the bleachers. Zee smiled warmly at the memory, though it only distracted him for a moment. Shivering in Dom's jacket, Zee crossed his legs doing his very best to stay and watch the game and be an obedient boxboy by sitting through it. He needed to visit the bathroom. 

So by the time Dom walked up to him excited by his most recent victory, Zee could barely hold it in. Dom’s eyebrows knit together “what's wrong Zee?”

“I- I need to pee” he didn't really hold still after he stood up

“Why didn't you go then? You didn't have to hold it:” 

“I don't know where the- the uhm, the bathroom and i wanted to watch your game s-sir” 

“Here, I’ll show you where the bathroom is, come on” Dom put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the bathrooms. By this point the place was almost empty and all the crowds were gone. When they got there, Dom offered to hold his jacket and wait outside while Zee went into the bathroom. Zee gladly accepted and ran in.

After relieving himself, Zee was washing his hands when another boy walked in. The boy was about the same height, and looked about the same age. Zee hesitated as he looked at the other, feeling something vaguely familiar about him. Perhaps he had seen him at a party? Or maybe one of the frat brothers’ friends? But it felt a little deeper than that; something in the way he walked, or something about his eyes.

***

Carlo walked into the bathroom, hoping it was late enough that nobody would be in there. He kept his head down as he headed toward the stalls, his dealer always left pills in the same stall, in the same toilet paper holder, when he left money there. But as he was passing the sinks, he spotted something in the mirror that caught his eye. 

Carlo nearly threw up. It was unmistakable, the thin boy with nice hair in front of him was the boxboy. The one from the frat house. Again, the image of Carlos' own eyes in Holstorm’s mirror flashed across his mind. He stopped in his tracks, and swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly.

After a couple of seconds of staring at each other the boxboy spoke up “who-”

Just then a rather big college student walked in “Zee? “

Carlo, who was already panicked, looked up at who he assumed to be Z2’s owner, and his eyes widened even more. Carlo almost ran, but his feet seemed glued to the floor.

“Zee, you almost done”

“Y-yeah. Sorry for making you wait sir” 

Carlo watched as the Z2 left with his ‘master’. He wanted to help the poor thing. He wanted to give him food, and comfort? Possibly? He didn't know, his mind was racing too much. He kept standing there after the boxboyleft, and texted Max.

[deluxewhump]

My masterlists: Carlo’s masterlist / Carlo Pieces 2024/Martin Olson AU/Zee’s masterlist / Zee’s Masterlist Part 2/  true north / Vampire!Carlo AU / Nightfall- the Bloodbag AU / The Scry / Bo’s masterlist (shop captive) / The Blackmuir Reign / Eriks Journals/ Bluebeard’s Pet / Belle / the bahkauv

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Searching for Answers: Alex and Jake the Shelter Guy

CW: Pet whump as a setting (Box Boy universe). References to dehumanization, brief vague reference to torture and noncon. If you’ve ever read @deluxewhump‘s excellent work (if you haven’t, you should be), you’ll see a very familiar face.

Jake takes naps between classes.

He spends three days a week at school taking 18 credit hours, in class from 8 in the morning until 10:30 at night. Then he heads to Nat’s place and does the overnight-house-worker thing, giving the rescues a sense of security knowing somebody familiar and safe is there if they have bad dreams or need help. The other four days a week he works with Natalie Yoder and Dr. Masood, learning about the rescues and how to help them.

It sounds exciting, being a college student secretly part of an underground liberation movement, but mostly it’s just exhausting.

He’s going to graduate with a degree in public health and a double-minor in communications and philosophy. It looks stupid, on the surface, he guesses, but he’s got a plan. Advocacy for runaways and human pets, working towards getting this country to a place to consider a full legal liberation and adjustment period for every person trapped in the system. 

Public health, so he can stand as an advocate with the degree to back up his hands-on experience and knowledge. Communications, to make him a better advocate by giving him the tools to understand how to utilize the media to change the way human pets are seen. Philosophy, to give him the skills to dig deeply into the thought processes around human pet ownership. 

The movement’s got more than 75 years of entrenched prejudice to undo. One day, he’s one hundred percent certain, pet ownership is going to be abolished as the fucking crime against humanity it really is. 

Jake wants to be a part of the group that finally makes it happen. 

The only problem is that he’s set himself an impossible schedule, and he’s so tired some days it’s all he can do to stay awake through his classes. He sleeps like four hours a night, and one day that’s going to catch up to him in a big way, but for now… he naps on benches and in courtyards, naps in the teacher’s lounge in the English department and behind a bunch of bookshelves in the philosophy hallway. 

It’s nice, except for when some asshole decides not to let him.

“Hey, uh, you’re… Jake Stanton, right?”

Jake groans, rubbing at his temple as he sits back and rests his back against the crumbling old brick wall of the oldest building on campus. He squints up at the fucking frat boy looking down at him. Not that Jake’s ever seen him before, but it’s easy to tell one of the fratbrats when you see them. 

He’s got the look - super clean-cut, blond hair and blue eyes, he’s even got a square jaw. Maybe not as musclebound as some of the other ones, but he’s still unmistakable. He looks kind of familiar, too, but that’s kind of the problem with frat guys. They mostly dress enough alike that it’s kind of hard to tell if he’s had a class with them or just had a class with one of their brothers. 

The guy looks nervous as hell. 

“Yeah, I’m Jake. Do I know you?”

“Uh, probably… prob’ly you do.” The frat guy shifts uneasily, one hand gripped tightly onto the backpack slung over one shoulder, a couple of textbooks under the other arm. “I’m Alex. We’re both minoring in, uh, philosophy, I think?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jake pushes back a yawn, just barely covering it with one hand. “Yeah, okay. I thought you looked familiar. What can I do for you? I’m sorry in advance if you wanted help with the essay thing, I haven’t even started on it, I’ve been busy with work.”

Nat’s newest charge had nonstop fucking nightmares from training, night after night. Jake had barely gotten a wink of sleep. 

“No, that’s okay, I, uh-... actually I’d be good to help you, if you need it. I finished mine, ran it by our-... my buddy last night.” Jake blinks, squinting again. He could swear Alex the Frat Guy is blushing. “Um. I just. I heard from, from some people that you’re… that you… know stuff.” Alex’s voice drops, into something just above a whisper. “About, uh, you know. Pets. Box Boys.”

 Jake stiffens, as his chest goes a little cold. “Who told you that?” He doesn’t talk about it much - being openly part of the pet lib movement isn’t exactly dangerous, but nobody talks pet liberation in polite company. 

 “Um. This girl I know. Meghan Jensen-” Alex pronounces the h, just a little, Meg-hen, and Jake can’t quite keep himself from smiling. “-she’s in a sorority… we kind of partner with sometimes… she said she heard from her twin sister Hannah who’s into some, like, punk underground lib shit… that you were, um. Someone I could talk to. For advice.”

Jake nods, slowly, giving himself time to process the words. He knows who Hannah Jensen is, he’s seen her at some of the group meetings and protests. He knows she has a twin who’s in a sorority, too. If this Alex guy is fucking with him, he did way too much research first. “Yeah, okay. Not out here, though, all right?”

Alex nods, expression going solemn and uncertain. “We can’t, like… get arrested just for talking about it, can we? I definitely can’t have that on my, like, record.”

Jake wants to laugh, but then he sees that the guy’s serious. Probably all he’s seen is the company propaganda shit about theft of property and consent and everything. It’s fake enough that no millenial or Gen Z person’s going to fall for it, but it’s still basically everywhere you look. Hard to make too many inroads against everyone’s assumptions about the system without someone who knows how to work it.

Hence - public health, communications, and philosophy.

“No, we won’t get arrested for talking. But someone might follow me home.” Jake makes his voice light and joking, even though it’s a genuine concern, and pushes himself to his feet. He’s actually a little taller than Alex, and more muscled-up, too.

“I just… need help. With, um. Someone I know.”

Jake blinks, thrown off-guard. “Someone specific?” Then it clicks, and he groans. “Shit. You’re with the frat, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you guys, you’ve got the guy going into the NFL. You’re one of those assholes that bought one-”

“Look, it seemed like… I didn’t really think about it, okay?” Alex’s face is even redder now, but he looks half-miserable with it, embarrassed and ashamed. Like Jake had caught him dealing drugs at an elementary school playground. “He’s… I just wanted to ask you some stuff about things I’ve noticed about him… and about Box Boys, and…”

“Why don’t you call the fucking company, Alex? They come with a number on their fucking brochure.” Jake’s voice goes dark, and he sees Alex bristle defensively. “Right there on the back, when you buy a human being. Customer service for your personal slave.”

“Hey, back the fuck off.” Alex’s eyes narrow, and he moves closer into Jake’s space, glaring at him. “Look, we went in on the whole thing together, and now I’ve gotten to know him, and I just-... I’m, um. I’m worried, and… I needed someone to talk to.”

Jake wants to push back again, to push harder. To ask Alex what the fuck he was thinking, being part of a group buying a human being. If he thought it’d be funny, or if he just cracked under peer pressure. But it won’t help, and instead he takes a deep breath, remembering Nat’s words. One step, one conversation, one person at a time. We can change the story, but you have to change minds and hearts, first. “... yeah, okay. Okay, I get it. Yeah. I can talk to you. I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, I get it,” Alex says, quickly, backing up again. “I get it. I probably look like a total rat-bastard to you.”

“No… not really. But if you’re, uh. Look, there’s a place I meet people sometimes to talk about this. I’ll buy you a drink and we’ll talk there.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds cool.”

“What’s your major, anyway?” Jake asks, sliding his own backpack on, eyes scanning over the campus. He’s met so many rescues who should be walking around college like this, safe and easy and free. He’s met a few that he’s pretty sure were walking around places like this, before WRU picked them up. “I feel like you were really good at arguing in Intro to Philosophy. So… something public-speaking-focused, right?”

“Uh, Poli Sci,” Alex says, falling into step beside him as Jake makes his way down the dirt path made by tens of thousands of students over the course of decades simply choosing to ignore the paved sidewalks and make their own way.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

“You look like a baby politician, and you’re good at arguing. What else would you be here for?” Alex snorts, hunching his shoulders a little defensively as his sneaker scrapes along the ground, and Jake sighs. “Sorry, man. I didn’t really mean that as an insult. I’m just tired as shit and everything’s been coming out the wrong way today. It really has not been my day.”

There’s a headache pounding behind his eyes, the fuzzy-headed exhaustion that could easily take him over. But he tells himself the rescues - and the Box Boys and Box Babes still in captivity - have it so much worse than he does.

That gives him a little more energy to keep walking.

“No, it’s okay. If I want to go into politics I should probably look like a politician, right?” Alex flashes him a hint of a smile, sidelong, and Jake relaxes. Okay, Alex the Frat Guy’s not as bad as he thought he’d be.

They end up chatting pretty amicably about professors and TAs they liked and hated in their shared philosophy courses, homework, and Alex laughs at Jake’s surprise, finding out that only a few of his frat brothers are even in sports as part of their long-term goal. Alex mentions a ‘Zee’ a few times, and eventually Jake realizes he’s talking about the Box Boy his frat bought, not just another frat brother or friend. 

He doesn’t talk about the Box Boy like he’s just an object to be owned. Jake wonders why he went in on the purchase at all. Probably, he decides, peer pressure. Everyone does stupid shit because of peer pressure. Jake smoked for a while in high school. His friend Krista got the worst haircut Jake had ever seen. Maybe Alex’s stupid peer pressure thing was buying a fucking person. 

Nope. He has to stop being so bitter about it. It’s just part of being in a subculture - and like it or not, being against pet ownership is way more of a minority, right now, than being either neutral or in favor of it.

If he carries all this anger back to the shelter tonight, the rescues will pick up on the tension, on his unhappiness. They’re all experts at reading the slightest negative change in mood, and while not all of them panic, they will all start trying to fix it in whatever way they understand. Jake definitely doesn’t have the energy to deal with a handful of recovering pets trying to clean or cook or screw their way out of danger. 

He walks Alex to the Student Center while the conversation is still safely focused on surface level stuff, grabbing himself and and Alex both iced coffees before he heads downstairs. Alex seems like he knows every third person they see. Jake can’t decide if that’s some weird politician-to-be gladhanding, or if he genuinely just has a really good memory for faces and names. 

He has to stop being so bitter about politics, too - not everyone’s going to be Senator Carlotta Grant, after all. Maybe Alex will be one of the good guys, for real. 

Maybe Jake can help nudge him that direction, if he wasn’t already headed that way.

The basement has a bunch of space for students, too, but Jake can count on his hands the amount of people he’s ever seen here over the course of his entire collegiate career. There’s a small booth where a bored girl with long black hair is ostensibly selling jewelry and pottery, a small open area with a piano that has a thin film of dust, and Jake leads an increasingly nervous Alex all the way to the back, where a series of hard wooden booths are built into the walls around an open hardwood floor. It’s dim down here, and dark as hell. Jake likes to call it the Speakeasy - to himself, at least. That’s what it reminds him of, speakeasies in Hollywood movies.

“I’ve never been down here,” Alex says, slightly hushed. “I didn’t even know this existed.”

“Yeah, it’s like… everyone just collectively decides to ignore this part of the Student Center. Works for me. We have meetings down here sometimes. Plus, the fact that nobody knows about it means nobody is gonna give us a hard time about whatever you’re going to tell me.” 

Jake slides into a booth and Alex sits across from him, the both of them slipping their backpacks off. It feels sort of hilariously surreal, like they’re in a movie about spies or the only two people who know the truth at the beginning of a zombie movie. 

Alex pulls out his cell phone, nervously fiddling with it and staring down. The silence draws slowly out until Jake finally leans over. Alex’s blue eyes jump up to his. “Look. The answer is yes, I, uh. I do some stuff with pet lib groups now and then. If you’re looking for info on, like, how to donate and shit, I’ve got some papers in my backpack with stuff you can do to help the movement… we could really use some clothing donations and, like, canned food and stuff right now-”

“No, um. I mean, yeah, I’ll… I’ll ask around and see if any of the guys have clothes they don’t need, but… that’s not… what I want to ask about.”

Jake frowns, then asks, softly, “Are you looking to help him get out of the system? Your Box Boy, at your frat house?”

There’s a pause. Alex goes wide-eyed, like he hadn’t even thought of it. “No! I mean. Not, um. I don’t think he’d want to… I just wanted to… to ask. Some stuff. About, um. How to help him act more like, uh, like a person. Like, if I take him out or whatever.”

Jake’s headache is getting worse.

“You want me to give you advice on how to train him?” He can’t stop the jagged edge that creeps into his voice. “So that you can, what-... hide what he is and take your pet around without having to answer any questions about it and face up to what you did-”

“Holy shit, dude,” Alex says, sitting back and setting his phone slowly down. “You don’t need to get so mad about it. I didn’t mean-”

“Well, what did you mean? Look, I do a lot of work with the kinds of people who get bought. I’m sorry if that freaks you out or something, but… you should see the damage this whole system does, you know?”

Alex is quiet, for a long time, just staring at him. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking - he’s already got that way of looking serious and thoughtful without actually giving anything away. Then, quietly, he says, “Zee has nightmares.”

“You call him Zee?”

“Yeah, uh. I mean, technically Z2, it’s part of his, um, official-”

“Yeah, I get it.” Jake sips his iced coffee and watches Alex hurriedly pick his up and sip, too, like he’d forgotten it was there. To Jake at least it seemed like a lifeline, a way to hold back the urge he has to grab this guy by the shoulders and shake him. “They make them answer to numbers. Dehumanization is, like, the first step of what they do.”

Alex’s face twists, like he’s tasted something awful, and he looks away. “Right. So, anyway, we all kind of decided on Z2. But… I like Zee better. It seems like it’s short for, for a real name, maybe. Like I could call him that in public and nobody, nobody would know-”

“That you own him?”

“No.” Alex sits up straighter. “No, not exactly. I figure it’d make it easier for him. I don’t-... I don’t really care what people think about me-”

“If you’re going into politics, you’re definitely going to care what people think of you.”

“Look, man, let me finish a sentence, okay? Just, like,  single sentence?” Alex pauses, and waits, and Jake finally sits back and sips his drink again and nods, silently. Alex sighs. “Thanks. I just meant that if I call him Zee, people will talk to him like he’s a regular guy. And I think he deserves it, to be able to go out and just, like, talk to people and be normal. That’s all I meant. But, this is… you, um. You just said you work with them, right? With, um. The… ones who get away? Get freed, or whatever?”

“They don’t get freed,” Jake says flatly. “That’s a myth. They run away or they stay kept.”

“... right.” Alex frowns, looking down at his coffee again, rubbing his fingers over the condensation building up along the clear plastic. “You said you work with them? So, um. I just. I want to know how to make things better for Zee, while he lives with us.”

“Belongs to you.”

Alex groans, throwing his hands up in the air. “Fine! What is it with you, dude? I’m trying to make Zee’s life better. I can’t just, like, make him not a Box Boy. One of my brothers technically has all his paperwork, we all went in on him together, he belongs to the whole fucking frat. If it was up to me and Dom, we’d free him in a heartbeat, okay? But it’s not up to us. And I can’t figure out how to make things better for him unless I know where to even start.” 

There’s real anguish in his voice, now. Actual, genuine guilt and remorse. Jake closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, calms the anger that he feels buzzing along all his nerves. It’s not Alex’s fault. He’s part of a system just like everybody else. Born into it, raised in it, no need to question or even think it through, until something hits him where he lives. 

Literally, in this case.

A lot of people are paid a lot of money to make sure people like Alex don’t ask questions, don’t try to make anything different or better. A lot of people work very hard to put out marketing materials and buy TV ads and write speeches for the President all about how great and above-board and one hundred percent normal it all is. 

And people like Jake are the nutjobs standing on a streetcorner wearing a sandwich board.

“Yeah,” Jake says. Just something to fill the silence, while he keeps his breathing slow and even, takes another drink. “Look, can I… can I say something?”

“Sure. I haven’t been insulted enough today, have at it.” Alex slumps back, looking almost morose, like a kid tired of being yelled at for listening to his music too loud. 

“I”m not going to insult you. Uh, anymore. I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. It’s… I live it, every single day, so it’s kind of hard to remember not everybody does. I’ll help you out with some advice, but… but I’m really going to want you to set him free for us to help him, you know? Or people like us, anyway. Just… know that any advice I give you’s going to come from that direction, okay?”

Alex swallows, drawing little nonsense symbols on the tabletop with one finger, as he thinks. “... okay. Yeah.”

“Good. So you said he has nightmares?” He pauses long enough for Alex to nod. “Okay. That’s a good starting place. They all have nightmares. Fucking all of them. Got it? And I bet if you wake him up, he doesn’t even know what he was dreaming about, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Or he won’t tell me, anyway. He tried once, but he got a really bad headache and had to take some, like, Advil…”

“Which, I’m going to guess, didn’t do shit to help. It’s not a headache from actual, like, nerves… it’s a conditioning thing.”

“... the fuck is conditioning?”

Jake opens his mouth, closes it again. Then he turns and digs into his backpack, pulling out a worn, wrinkled old bit of printer paper carefully folded into a three-sided brochure. WRU and the companies have the good stuff. Nat just prints this stuff out on her home computer, and Jake and the rescues sit up folding them until they look - mostly - presentable for the public. He slides it across the table, and Alex picks it up, looking it over. There’s an old photo on the front of a woman who died back in the 90’s with two rescues standing in front of her, her hands on their shoulders, everyone smiling. It’s the best picture they have. 

Nobody wants to have their photo printed, not anymore. Not since people started disappearing, sometimes. 

“Read this. It’s got a little bit in it about navigating that stuff. Conditioning is like brainwashing, a little bit. It’s how they teach them to act the way they do. Like… you’ve probably noticed he can’t really say no to any chore you tell him to do, right?”

Alex swallows, hard enough for Jake to notice, and nods. He’s still got the brochure unfolded in his hands, but he looks up slowly, meeting Jake’s eyes. “Yeah. And he never gets mad, either. He just… does whatever we tell him. Even if they, uh, sometimes the others… aren’t super nice to him. And he just… takes it.”

“Right. His nightmares are probably about the reason he just sits there and takes it, Alex. If you push him - if you give him orders he can’t handle, or you tell him to do something that hurts him or he’s terrified of it or, like…” A thought flashes through Jake’s mind, one that’s so dark even he doesn’t think the frat boys would be that kind of evil, and he dismisses it. “... even if you tell him to go jump out a window, or something… he might protest or cry, but if you keep going… he’ll do it. Because, deep down, that’s all he can do anymore. Got that?”

Some of the blood has drained from Alex’s face. “And he has nightmares about, about being… taught? To do whatever we say?”

“Yeah. Look, I’m going to sound fucking crazy, I get it. But… please just trust me. I see rescues - that’s what we call the ones we take care of - every day. They all have nightmares. They all do whatever you tell them to. Some of them do worse than that. I can help you with some exercises, some therapy stuff, that we do to help calm their nightmares down. But I can’t do anything that’ll really, really help, unless you let me talk to him. Or if you get him out of that frat house.”

“I can’t do that. He doesn’t even belong to me, he belongs to all of us.” Alex’s face twists again, but Jake is more focused on the fact that Alex didn’t protest the idea of freeing the boy at all. Only argued that it would be difficult. That Jake could work with. “Technically he belongs to my frat brother, and Cam’s… um.” Alex is silent for a second, and then asks, “What do I do if someone else, like… pushes him in ways he’s not supposed to be? Like… that don’t go along with what he’s, um, what his… category or whatever is?”

“What?” At first, Jake’s confused.

Then he realizes what Alex is actually asking, and feels the anger under his skin all over again. 

Closing his eyes isn’t enough this time. He thinks about the rescues he’s seen come through, all of them used in different, equally horrible ways. All of them absolutely, completely, utterly unable to even begin to refuse it. “Is it just one guy, or are there more?”

He’s surprised to hear his own voice come out soft, and even. He doesn’t even sound angry. Just mildly annoyed.

Underneath that, he’s ready to start throwing punches. This is why he doesn’t talk about this stuff at school - he’s going to miss his classes today, unable to handle it being here, too, when normally he keeps the two halves of his life separate so he can keep himself from burning out too soon. No, he’ll skip class and go straight to the shelter tonight. Get to bed earlier than usual, if the rescues are feeling good. 

“Just one… I think. I mean, I hope just the one. We, uh, we talked about it with him, and I’m sure… I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, it will. Give someone total power over another human life and they’ll go fucknuts destroying it.”

“We’re trying to keep them apart, but… we can’t always be there. Which is why I thought, um, if I could get him to pass for, like, just another person he could maybe just go around with us more and not be in the house when we’re not…” 

“Good start. I’ve got… hold on.” He digs another piece of paper out and lays it out on the table. “This one’s about ways to talk to your rescue about consent. It’s… kind of an awkward conversation and he won’t understand it. But… if you just keep talking, it’ll help him feel better standing up for himself.”

“Why doesn’t he understand cuh-... uh… consent?” Alex’s face was red again. “I mean. He wants… so much attention, and he seems like he’s used to being, like, hugged or kept around people, like he wants it. From Dom and me, at least.”

Jake swallows, trying to decide how much to tell him. How far to take this conversation. He pulls another paper, this one four sheets stapled together front and back, and lays it down on the table, too. “Have you ever been locked in a room without human contact for months on end, except to be hurt? The only good thing they get is dehumanizing shit like that - being petted, or touched against their will. It’s normalized. He doesn’t know he shouldn’t want it, anymore. And he’ll be terrified and upset if you stop.”

Alex looks down at the paper, shaking his head “Do you… do you have a paper for everything?”

“Bet your ass I do. That one’s on training methods. Turn to page two. It’ll answer your question. I have stuff in here to answer all your questions, and I have-... there’s a, uh. A friend of mine… I could bring to talk to you, if you’re interested. A rescue who’s… mostly… better now. He’s our IT guy. He’s been through all the counseling, and he remembers training and all of it. He can tell you what your, uh. What Zee has gone through. Ways to help him break it. But… that’s only if you want. I get that I’m throwing a lot at you. And I get that it probably seems crazy-”

“No, it doesn’t. Really.” Alex leans over, looking at him earnestly, one hand over the papers Jake has set down on the table between them. “Look, before I met Zee, I would maybe have thought… it was all exaggerated, but… but I’ve listened to him when he sleeps. He sounds so… terrified. And he’s so grateful for… everything. Anything nice, literally the smallest nice things… I don’t think you’re crazy, I think… think like, maybe… maybe I need to try and help him get out of our house before I graduate, I just have no idea where to start.”

“I can give you an address,” Jake says, softly.

“Uh… no. I don’t think he’d… want to do that.”

“Not yet. But it’s what a lot of them do, when they’re ready.”

“No, I get that, but I just. Um. I don’t think I’d… want him to be, like, homeless? Just without anybody? That seems really… awful, actually.”

“Does it?” Jake raises an eyebrow. “Does it seem worse than, I don’t know, cleaning frat guy toilets? Or whatever awful shit you’re almost telling me about your frat brother? Does he even have a bed?”

Alex looks back out into the dim basement corner, tapping his fingers on the table. His discomfort is basically a physical weight around him in the air. “No. He, uh. There’s this… closet, or he stays with Dom or me…”

“Yeah. So. Does that seem better than an address where I can guarantee a bed?”

“No… it doesn’t… I guess.” Alex glances down at his coffee, apparently surprised to discover he’s been drinking it the whole time and it’s all gone. He takes the lid off and picks out a piece of ice, crunching it between his teeth. The sound is enormously loud in the quiet, empty space. “I just feel like… we care about Zee. I think I can do better than, um, whatever you’re suggesting. I just… need your help, to do better. He… deserves better.”

“Yeah. He does. They all do.”

Alex takes a deep breath and turns back to him, folding his hands together on the table, looking for all the world like the senator or congressman or whatever he’s planning to maybe one day be. He leans slowly over and looks Jake right in the eyes “I want all your papers from your bag. Just… the whole library. I don’t want to, to send him away. I think he’d… it’d hurt him, so badly. He really likes us, and we… we’re trying. But I want to know how to do better.”

Jake stares right back. He can’t tell if Alex really means it, or not, but he sounds like he means it. Finally, he turns and digs another stack of papers out, maybe a hundred different pages all total. He always keeps some on him, just in case, but nobody ever really asks. He lets the stack fall a couple of inches in front of Alex, watching his eyes widen as he stares.

“There it is,” Jake says. “The whole damn library. All the reading you could ever want on why the pet system is bullshit, what they’re doing to make you think it’s okay, and how to help someone who’s been trapped in it. If you and, uh, your frat brother, or-... or Zee wants to meet with my friend Nine, I can introduce you. Only when you’re ready. I’m on campus Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday basically all day. I can talk to you whenever. My number’s… hold on.” He grabs another piece of paper out and scribbles his number down, hands that over, too. “Call me if you want to talk more, on those three days. The rest of the time I work with the rescues, and I’m not gonna answer my phone unless someone died or you’re my dad.”

Alex nods, and shoves the whole pile of papers into his own backpack, zipping it carefully up. “Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something?”

Jake lets out a sigh. He knows what the question is going to be, too. It’s the same question, every time, and they always save it for the end of the conversation. “Yeah, go for it.”

Alex pauses, then asks, “Is it true you know Vincent Shield?”

Jake huffs a little bitter laughter. They always ask, every single time. 

“Yeah, I do. And he’s a dick.”

[deluxewhump]

Zee’s Story- Part 2

(part one masterlist)

I ran out of room for links, so everything post Alex graduating will live here now. This is part two of my box boy universe story, individual CW’s on individual chapters. Pet whump premise and lots of NSFW throughout.

pre series: Jamey and the facility

Cam Sickfic

Alex’s necklace

Alex/Cam: Spanking

Guilt Rituals

Dark Alex AUs

Dark!Alex AU

Dark!Alex and Zee first time

Dark!Alex kisses Zee

Dark!Alex Zee breaks a dish

Dark!Alex AU: tennis ball

Dark!Alex: face slap

Dark!Cam/Zee

Dark!Alex: Zee forgets the laundry

Dark!Alex AU: would you?

Dark!Alex AU: Fireball (Ben)

Dark!Alex AU: Ben’s visit (hickey)

Dark!Alex AU: Cam Finds Out

Dark!Alex AU: punishment deferred

Dark!Alex AU: Ben and Zee First Time

D ark!Alex AU Cam hurts Zee

Dark!AlexAU: noncon

Dark!Alex AU: comfort

Post-college timeline

Cam tops Alex

Zee + reading

Cam/Zee in the mustang

Cam gets his ass kicked

Cam/Zee pt 1: very bad boy  

Zee runs away

Zee runs away pt 2: My name is Jamey

Cam selling his dad’s house (cam crying)

Cam/Zee pt 2: the deal

Cam calls Alex (and asks for Zee)

Gunplay part I

Gunplay part II

Alex and Zee reading

Cam and Zee hookup part 3

Alex and Zee: “Camping”

Alex and Zee comfort Cam

Cam asks Alex to tie him up

Cam/Alex: lingerie and makeup pt 1

Cam/Alex: sex

Cam and Belle- why cant you keep me

Cam and Belle: Bad Luck, Belle

Alex/Claire flashback: spanking

The Swimming Pool one

Alex/Cam Collar

Cam and Zee explicit

Cam and Zee leave the party

zee- lingerie

Bad trip (Zee kisses Alex)

Alex and Zee reading

Zee shows Cam his breakthrough

Cam and Alex fight

Guilt Rituals II

Early Cam whump (Ethan Byrne)

Cam and Ethan- kitchen sink

Roman Dixon

Roman (runaway arc)

Roman pt 2 (With Dominic & Cissy)

Roman pt 3 (1st night)

Roman pt 4 (Arguing with a bossy boxboy)

Roman pt 5 (The Whole Truth)

Roman pt 6 (The Madden Twins)

Roman and Jack: Captivity Day 1

Zee & Roman sippet: Checkers

Roman sees Zee react like a boxie ( to accidental whump)

[deluxewhump]

Cam Sickfic

timeline: current- Alex’s apartment

Cw: BBU, sickness, fever, delirium, vomiting, past child neglect and past child abuse, implied drug abuse and addiction, mentioned death of a parent, box boy universe, pet whump, collar mention, food and eating habits, shower scene, manhandling, physical struggling, begging, crying, nonsexual nudity, sort of a forced strip. (Alex means well)

Thank you @morelikepainsley for this entire idea! (Down to many of the details! It’s practically co-authored)

***

Cam had always retreated to his room when he was sick. He went quiet, barely came out for food. He slept until he felt better. Alex had witnessed it last winter with that cold they’d all caught, the one that had him carrying around Halls cough drops in his pocket for three weeks. 

Zee got it too, and Dominic had responded by making him healthy smoothies every afternoon, chalky green things Zee choked down gratefully. Alex was convinced Zee would drink antifreeze if Dominic told him to. 

He had the afternoon off, and the next day too. He tossed his keys onto the counter, hooked his phone onto his charger. Zee was on the patio, potting herbs he’d planted for the windowsill and getting bagged soil all over the place, under his fingernails too. He had a streak of it on his cheek. 

Alex leaned in the doorframe. “They big enough for outdoors already?”

“Yeah,” Zee replied, squinting in the sun. “Should be. Did you… did you need me? I can…” 

Alex waved him off. “You’re good, bro. Do your thing. Just saying hi.”

Even now, Zee fell into the role of boxboy more often than Alex would like. He tried to give him things to do, ways to keep busy that weren’t housework, but it was limited with his aversion to reading and his steady urge to please. He still got pangs of guilt sometimes when Zee cleared his plate for him, or folded his clothes out of the dryer. He stopped halfway in the door. “Oh hey, did Cam leave?”

Zee looked past Alex at the empty living room. “I-I don’t think so? He didn’t say anything. But I can look-”

“It’s okay.” Alex waved him off again. “I promise you’re good, Zee.” He winked at him for good measure and shut the sliding glass door. Cam didn’t seem to be anywhere in the apartment, but his shoes were by the door, his keys on the hook. He peeked into Zee’s room, which he generally stayed out of so Zee would feel he had a place that was truly his own.

Cam didn’t seem to share that idea, because he was sleeping in Zee’s bed, on top of the blankets.

Alex called out to him. 

Nothing. 

He pushed the door the rest of the way open and went inside. “Cam? You awake?” He shook Cam’s foot, which only got him a whimper. 

He sat on the edge of Zee’s bed, the bedspread and sheets they’d picked out at the mall together. He touched Cam’s shoulder. “Yo. You can sleep in my bed, man. C’mon.’

Cam pulled away from him as if he were dreaming, and not of anything sweet. He whimpered again. Alex put a hand on his forehead, front and then back. He was hot, clammy. “Shit,” he whispered, resting the back of his knuckles on Cam’s cheek.

Cam moaned, batted at his hand. “Don’ touch me,” he whispered, frowning.

“Okay,” Alex said, hoping fever-Cam would hear him. Perhaps he thought he was someone who wished him harm, someone at the house even. “I won’t.”

He went to the kitchen cabinet for medicine, looking through his supply of over the counter medicines for something that might help. He was looking over a label for the words “fever reducer” when he heard the unmistakable sound of retching coming from the open bathroom door. He brought the pills and a half glass of water, headed back and found Cam on his knees in front of the toilet, vomiting stomach bile into the bowl. He sat on the lip of his tub and placed his hand between Cam’s shoulder blades. 

He moaned, racked by a violent shiver. 

"It’s okay," Alex said. “Get it all up. There you go.”

He kept his hand on Cam’s back until he was finished and even the dry-heaving stopped, reminded of how his mother would sit with him when he was little and he would get sick, how she was calm and patient and pressed cool cloths to his forehead. He could even remember the linoleum tiles of their old bathroom, black checkers on white, the frosted shower doors.

Cam spit, turned his head to look at him. His eyes were glassy. “I don’t feel very good.” 

Alex clicked his tongue in sympathy. Ya think, baby? He lowered himself onto his knees beside Cam, held the glass of water to his lips so he could take a sip. “Rinse first,” he instructed. “Good. Will you take a pill for me?”

Cam nodded, more lucid than he’d been just minutes ago on the bed. He shook two pills into Cam’s palm and helped him take another sip of water to get them down.

“C’mon, tough guy,” he urged, helping him up from under the armpits. “Let's get you in my bed instead.”

***

Zee asked if there was anything he could do, and Alex shrugged. “He's sleeping.”

Zee made himself a cheese and mustard sandwich without asking and sat on the couch to eat it instead of the floor, which were two things he'd slowly started doing that Alex took as good signs. He balanced the plate on his knees, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “What if he doesn’t get better?”

“I’ll take him to the hospital.”

“He won’t let you. He doesn’t have insurance.”

Let me, my ass, Alex thought, but did not say. Zee pulled a piece of his sandwich off and broke that piece into smaller bits the size of oyster crackers, putting them into his mouth one at a time. It reminded Alex of his kid brother Rob, who for years had separated all his food enough that he could drive a matchbox truck through the spaces like roads.

"I probably shouldn't have said that,” Zee realized, glancing at him. “About the insurance."

Alex huffed, rubbed his eyes. "Forget it. You're good."

*** 

A few hours later, he checked on Cam in the cool dark of his bedroom. He could smell the sharp scent of sweat when he got close, and saw he was all twisted up in the sheet, his hairline drenched.

He flinched when Alex touched his forehead. 

“Shhhh,” he soothed. “It’s Alex. It’s me.”

He thought maybe a cool shower would do the trick. Maybe it would bring his temperature down. At the very least it would feel better than layers of sweat sticking to him like a second skin. He swung Cam’s legs over the bed first, pulled him up to a sitting position. “Can you help me?” he asked, getting his shoulder underneath Cam’s right arm. “Can you walk with me?” 

Cam tried his best to stand, leaning heavily on Alex as they hugged the wall of his bedroom, out into the hall. Alex reassured him the whole way, not even hearing what he was saying. Words of encouragement, repeating little phrases. It didn't matter. Cam used his other hand to brace on the wall and slowly, they made it into the bathroom. He sat Cam on the toilet seat to run the water, waited until it felt lukewarm to him to strip him out of his sweaty tee shirt. 

“C’mon,” he urged, trying to get him to stand. “This’ll feel good. It’ll help.”

Cam let him peel off his shorts, stepped out of them when he tapped each leg like he was a horse. Alex realized he was going to be taking this shower too, or neither of them were. Cam felt wobbly, like he might fall and hurt himself without any support. He couldn’t strip his own clothes off without letting go of Cam, so he decided to get in clothed, as weird as it felt. He helped Cam maneuver one foot over the lip of the tub, until he seemed to realize where they were headed.

“Nnno,” he said, almost slurring it. 

“Yes. Other foot, Cam. C’mon.”

“No.”

“It’s okay. C’mon.”

Cam turned away from the water, his face blotchy and red. “Don’t wanna… please-”

Alex shushed him, held him tight by the biceps. 

He’s just confused.  Alex thought. He doesn't know what's happening. Or that it's me. He’ll figure it out when he feels the water.

When Cam accidentally scratched him, he cursed under his breath, wrangled him the rest of the way into the tub and held him there.

At first, he groaned like the water felt good on his burning skin. See? He thought. I got you, dummy. But maybe he was just dizzy from Alex’s rough handling, because soon he began to duck his head away from it, trying to cover his face with his hands. “No,” he wailed, hitting the tile with the heel of his palm. “No no no no-”

Alex was alarmed at the persistence, the fear. Cam was taller than he was, but slighter, too. He wasn’t hard for Alex to maneuver unless he was actively fighting. Alex pinned his arms to his side and held them there, held him tight. “It’s okay, Cameron. We’re just cooling off. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Cam sobbed, an alarming, harsh sound that seemed to come from deep inside him. Suddenly, he tried to wrench away. Afraid he’d fall, Alex tightened his grip. At this point, he only wanted to keep him from hurting himself, calm him down enough to get back out.

Cam’s father had been a real asshole when he was alive. If he was right about his hunch, it was physcial. That made him feel worse, worse than earlier when he wondered if Cam might think he was the guys from the house.

“No, no...” Cam pushed and twisted, trying to get away from him. Healthy, he could’ve done it. Alex knew that from experience. He would’ve sent them both toppling onto the floor, ripping down the shower curtain. As he was, he was far too weak. He began to cry in earnest. “Please, don’t. Please, don’t. Don’- don’t-”

Alex blinked away water that ran down his face, shook his wet hair out of his eyes. His stomach felt hot and sick that Cam thought he was hurting him… that he was doing something to him. He remembered fighting in Cam’s room two semesters ago, how intent they had been on hurting one another. Cam had been someone else to him then, and he could not have fathomed the tenderness he would someday feel when he looked at his sleeping face, watched him doing homework in his apartment.

“Cam!” he hissed, holding tight under the cool spray. "It’s okay, man. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re right here with me. You’re safe.”

“Nonononono. No!” He pushed against him again, but his body simply would not cooperate with him. Weak and exhausted, he sagged into the other boy’s arms, crying like Alex had never seen him. He shook with it, unaware and unselfconscious, gasping and shuddering, his hair drenched and sticking to his forehead. 

“Shhhh,” he soothed, holding the back of Cam’s neck and rocking them under the spray. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

When Alex was sixteen, he worked a summer as a counselor at the outdoors camp he went to every year as a kid. A few boys got into a fight one night- it turned out over a disputed pair of cleats- and he’d been the first counselor on the scene. The other boys had already run, leaving one camper slouched against one of the bathroom stalls guarding his bleeding face, refusing to lower his arms or open his eyes. Cam reminded him of that boy that night- unreachable and inconsolable. He hated how useless it made him feel. How powerless. 

When it became clear Cam wasn’t going to fight him anymore, Alex reached over and stopped the water. He pulled a towel off the rack and patted Cam dry, towel-dried his hair. He wrapped it around him so he wouldn't be naked. Next he stripped out of his own soaked clothes, left them in the tub and got a towel for himself. 

The walk back to his room was not so precarious as the way there. Maybe the water had helped, after all. He got clean sweatpants and a dry shirt out of his own dresser and helped a slow and groggy Cam into them, got him back into the bed. He was pulling on a pair of briefs when he heard Cam stirring. He turned, watching him curl his long body around a pillow as if he could absorb it into himself. He pressed his mouth tight into it and began to cry.

Alex didn't bother with a shirt. He climbed in on the other side of his bed and scooted close, but not touching. He laid a hand on Cam’s slim hip, over the covers and rubbed slowly up and down, shushing him softly in the dark. 

He woke hours later, in the early hours of the morning. The only source of light was the faint glow of the city from behind the blinds- just enough to make out the shape of his dresser, the closet door. Cam was still beside him, he realized with relief. He reached out in the dark to try and find his forehead. It felt better.

“Yup. I’m alive," Cam said dryly.

“Dude, don’t blame me for checking. I didn’t know you were awake.”

“Mhm.”

“How you feelin’?”

“Mmm, like I got hit by a truck.”

“You scared me a little bit.”

Cam was silent. Alex had no way to know if he remembered vomiting, or the shower, or crying himself to sleep. He wondered if Zee felt abandoned out there in the apartment, like they were ignoring him. He wondered if he heard any of the commotion. 

“Cam?”

“Huh.”

“I put you in the shower earlier. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know. I remember, kinda.”

“Okay.”

Outside, a car horn blared twice and another answered. 

"I’m sorry I was so...messy," Cam managed.

Alex shook his head on his pillow. “Nah. You were sick dude, you couldn’t help it. And besides- it’s just me.”

He thought that was going to be the end of it, because another five minutes went by in silence but Cam turned his head toward him. His eyes had adjusted enough that he could see the outline of him in the dark.

“When I was little, I got sick," he said. “A bug, or something. You know, like kids do. And my mom… she put me in the tub. Probably to cool me off, or, clean me off, I don’t know. But then she went back out to watch her program...her soaps, she called them, and big surprise, she nodded off on the couch. And I guess… I guess I didn’t get out of the fucking tub for some reason and…” 

He paused, swallowed audibly. His voice was rough and thick from sleep and sickness. “My dad came home from work and found me. The water was freezing cold by then. I was… I guess I had inhaled some of it at some point because he took me to the ER and he wouldn’t take me if it was nothing. I was sick for like, a month. Got pneumonia or something.”

Alex remembered the cool cloths, the songs his mom would sing to him at night, and later his siblings. He tried to imagine her leaving one of them sick in the tub and couldn’t. 

"Cam." 

“She was passed out still when we got back. TV blaring.”

“Cam…”

He sniffed. “Don’t. Please. Anyway. I don’t remember much of earlier, but I remember that shit got a little weird. So. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Alex told him. “For real. Don’t be. I’m sorry if I was rough. I really thought you might fall.”

“Thanks. For that. And for letting me crash here in the first place.”

“Don’t mention it.  Zee likes it. I like it. I don't want you over there anyway. You…” he paused. Cam didn’t usually let his guard down this far, wasn’t usually this sincere about things. He didn’t want to pry. He tried not to, especially with Cameron. “You can tell me anything you want. I know you don’t like to talk about some things and that’s legit, I get it, but… I’m here. If you wanna say it, I want to hear it. That’s all.” 

Cam was quiet. Alex thought for sure he’d say something snarky to make sure he cheapened the moment, but he didn’t. "Okay," he said, and lifted his head, flipped over the pillow to the cool side. “Sure.”

***

In the morning, Cam walked gingerly out to the couch when Alex got up to make coffee. He allowed Alex to coax him to take two more pills and a small glass of juice, but then he pulled a blanket over himself and fell asleep.

He finally stirred around noon, eyes ringed in dark circles, lips chapped. Zee was waiting with his saintlike patience, the way Alex imagined he must’ve waited outside his door at the fraternity house, back when he was too timid to knock and ask to come in. Cam draped an arm off the couch for him. 

Alex’s fingers paused over his laptop keys as he watched Zee scoot closer on the floor so Cam’s fingers could brush his cheek. 

"Hey, Zeezee," he whispered.

Zee rested his face in Cam’s palm. Alex had thought he looked naked without his collar, those first few days they’d come to live here together. He felt bad for thinking it. He was used to it now. Zee looked like any other guy their age, with his new clothes and his collarless neck, away from that place where it was so clear he was something other than they were just by his body language.

Cam invited him under the blanket with him and Zee crawled in, snuggled close. He didn't fully understand the truce that had happened between the two of them, but he liked this better than how it was before, when Zee had been afraid.

He watched Cam adjust the pillow so Zee could share it, click the remote to open Alex's Hulu account on the TV. 

He shut his laptop. Cam should try to eat. So should Zee, probably. He was going to make them all some lunch.

[deluxewhump]

bee i’m DYING over the thought of zee suffering through some book & trying to hide how much it hurts but alex and/or cam finding out and comforting him,,, look i’m already willing to die for u lmao but if u were to elaborate on that thought i just might decease right here and now

will you accept a very small snippet sweet anon?

CW: BBU, pet whump, nausea, headache, conditioning, illiteracy from torture, conditioned response, sick whumpee, comfort, soft cam

****

Cameron peered outside the sliding-glass door onto the balcony. It was dark out already, and cold. He doubted Zee would be out there once the sun went down. Sure enough, there was only a folding chair and a bag of potting soil. “You seen the little runt anywhere, Al?” He asked.

“Who?” Alex said pointedly. He was sprawled across the sofa, waiting for his new gym buddy JD to text that he was outside so they could carpool.

“The collarless wonder,” Cam said. “Our twitchy little Boxboy.”

Alex shot him a dirty look. Stop, he mouthed. 

“He loves it.”

Cam knocked on Zee’s door. Nothing. He went down the hall to peek in Alex’s room and found him sitting on Alex’s floor, cross legged with a hardcover book open on his lap.

He let the door swing all the way open. “Whatcha doin’ in here, dude?”

Zee snapped the book shut, tossed it away so it landed next to Alex’s bed. 

“Nothing,” he said, placing his head in his hands like it was hurting him. 

Alex slipped into view in the doorway behind him and they exchanged a glance. He gestured to the book, and Cam nodded that he understood. 

“Hey," Cam said, going closer and sitting next to Zee on the floor. He rested his back against the wall. “You’re shaking, Zee. Are you alright?”

Alex leaned in the doorway, resting his head on on his forearm to watch. Cam wondered if he thought two of them would be too much for Zee when he was like this, wanted to keep his distance. 

They both knew how physically ill reading text made him, how it brought nausea and headaches, blurred vision and intense frustration. Cam could see he had broken out in a sweat, and was beginning to shiver as it cooled on his skin. He took off his own zip-up hoodie, draped it over his shoulders like a blanket.

Zee sniffed and looked at him sidelong, holding his hands at his eyes like blinders on a horse. “I’m not getting any better.”

Cam scooted an inch closer. “What do you mean?”

His eyes were wet, dull as if he was in pain. Even his lips looked pale, as if all the blood was gone from his face. “I don’t feel good,” he whispered miserably. “I feel sick.”

Cam tilted his head in sympathy, opening his arms. "Come here."

Zee sobbed and crawled into them, sitting between his spread legs. 

 “It’ll go,” he said. “It’s gonna go, Zee. It’s not gonna stay."

Zee whimpered weakly, rested his cheek on Cam’s shoulder. Cam carded his fingers through his hair, shushed him gently. “It’ll go. I got you.”

“I’ve been trying to read three lines every other day,” Zee whispered. “I can’t… I can’t make myself try every day. And I’m not getting better. I feel like it's getting worse.”

“You don’t have to do it,” Cam offered. “Me and Al… we’re not gonna think less of you. Those bastards do it to everybody.”

Zee flinched at even an oblique mention of the WRU. He took a shaky breath. “I want to. I have to. I can’t even text anybody! I can barely look at street signs.” 

Cam glanced at Alex, who was still watching in the doorway with the solemn, slightly sick expression he wore when the WRU’s extensive damage reared its ugly head.

“Then I’ll help you,” Cam promised. “I’ll… I’ll look into it. You can’t be the first to try and read again after this. You just can’t. I’ll research it. I’ll find out what to do.”

Zee pulled back, eyes a little wide. “Really?”

Cam smiled at him, tucked a loose curl behind his ear. He’d kept one of Amber’s piercings, a stud in his earlobe that he wore always. Cam toyed with it now, rubbed it softly between two fingers. “If there’s a way to do it, we’ll find it. I’m gonna take care of it, Zeezee. If this isn’t working… you take a break, okay? I don't like to see you all sick like this.”

Zee looked as if he might cry, but he smiled through it, threw his arms around Cam’s neck. He squeezed, which meant he had some of his strength back. “Thank you,” he said, so quiet and sincere Cam could hardly stand it.

“Come on. Let's get up.” He squeezed back briefly. “I’ll put on a show without subtitles.”