Adriel would shove himself up, slide between Bacchus' legs and break the pin. He’d shove Bacchus' shoulder, roll them over so he was on top. His knees would lock around Bacchus' hips, his legs wrapping his thighs to keep him place, and he'd force his weight on Bacchus' wrists. "You always celebrated my birthday on Valentine's Day," he'd say, but his voice would be laced more with sorrow than with anger, wet in the back of his throat. "My birthday is February 15th, so you were close enough. My favorite color is blue, because I was always teased about my hair as a kid, and blue is the complete opposite of red. The wolf on my ribs is supposed to be Revelin, because he was my first and very best friend. And the piece I started on my chest was supposed to be for you before everything went to shit because you're the first person I've ever loved, and I thought I’d spend the rest of my fucking life with you. I used to hate just about every one of your hobbies and interests, but sports and beer and love-making have grown on me because I associate all of them with you. I love caramel more than chocolate, but I’ll never turn down anything with sugar, and I prefer strawberries in my smoothies instead of bananas. But how could I ever tell you any of these things when you'd always have Sophie? When your parents would always hate me? When you've already failed everything you've ever loved for some cock-sucker you happened to walk in on one day by the bleachers?" And he'd be crying by the end of his tirade. "You hit me when all I wanted was to try to make you feel good, and you're always so fucking angry. How could I ever give myself over when you could storm off at any moment?"
Note: I was crying by the time I finished writing this. It was really intense.