Chapter Text
Braden knew a lot about biology. Despite flunking it in high school and not getting far enough in college to have been taught much, he knew far more than he ever thought he would.
Most of the research he read was on how to get and stay skinny, and how to not be unmanageably suicidal. Practical knowledge, things he could actually buy or put into practice.
He knew how to push his fingers into his throat just right and make himself churn up food he couldn't afford to digest. He knew how hard to tap a hammer into his cheekbones to stimulate healing.
What he was more foggy on, although he'd never breathe a word of it to anyone, was how to put all of his research on women into practice. No matter how many women he had sex with, it was frustratingly hard to become interested in any of them.
All of his friends seemed to have none of the same issues. Even Demir, who was so insecure that he considered himself unfuckable, had a new girl to talk about every week.
It made Braden feel like all of the work he'd put into himself was for nothing. Girls finally looked his way, but he didn't particularly want them to anymore.
His work could not be for nothing. That was an intolerable thought, one he would have drowned out with razor if scar creams weren't so ineffective. There was also the factor of Demir, who had for some reason been in tears the last time he'd seen fresh cuts on Braden's arm. Comforting Demir had been an uncomfortable and odd affair that time, and Braden didn't want a repeat.
He'd tried to do research on his issue, but most of the results had been coddling bullshit about finding someone compatible with no scientific backing. Braden didn't need to feel about his inferiority, he needed a solution.
Besides the internet, there was always Demir to ask. He knew the most about Black Pilled topics out of anyone Braden was close with. Also, if Braden were to be honest with himself, Demir was his closest friend and this was an embarrassing thing to be struggling with. It made him sound like a faggot, not being able to have romantic feelings for women.
He bit the bullet after a long night out. He'd done a little more meth than he usually did, and it made him feel invincible. Braden had to stay up and pace around when they got home. Half to get out all the excess energy he had and half to psych himself up to talk to Demir.
Demir was sprawled out on their couch, already half-asleep. It was probably due more to all of the drinks he'd had than the fact it was nearing sunrise.
Braden forced himself to stop and sit down. Forced his leg to not jiggle the way it wanted to, because he knew it made him look like a retard.
“Dem’”
Demir responded only with a grunt. Braden smacked his cheek none too gently to make him focus and ignored his protest.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Now? It's like, 5am.”
Braden resisted the urge to slap Demir again. It took a concerted effort, but he managed.
“Yes, now. I need to know how to get interested in a girl.”
Demir let out a whooshing sigh and finally sat up properly. “What? What do you mean? Like, how to get a girl?”
Braden squeezed the bridge of his nose between two fingers and rubbed there for a moment. Demir being stupid was making the whole ordeal far worse. “No. I mean, how do I like a girl? Get a, uh, a ‘crush’.”
Demir snickered, but it tapered off quickly. He leaned forward and rested his chin on a fist, eyebrows scrunched together as he studied Braden. Braden didn't appreciate it, but he resisted the urge to snap. He wanted Demir's help, and he wasn't going to get it unless he was nice. Civil, at least.
“Uh,” Demir began eloquently, and then stopped for a second. Either thinking or trying to find words that wouldn't land badly, like he always did. “You don't like girls, man?”
Braden scowled and his leg began to bounce despite his best efforts. “I'm not a faggot. It just, whenever I fuck a girl, I lose interest.”
“Fuck foids anyway. Who needs them, man” Demir mumbled, a hand scratching at his scruffy stubble. Braden's scowl deepened.
“I don't need a woman. I need to figure out what is wrong with me.”
Demir gave him a look. Pity, or worry. Braden didn't care, he didn't want it. “If you don't have advice, then fuck off.”
Demir bristled a little and stood. “Yknow what, man? I dunno. I dunno what you're even saying. Maybe you're, like, asexual. Or just really, really autistic.”
Braden didn't resist the urge to punch Demir. The feel of his gut tensing against Braden's knuckles was almost as satisfying as the punch to his own face that followed.
He felt alive as they tumbled to the ground, shouting at each other and exchanging fumbling, intoxicated blows. Braden ended up with Demir under him, both of them panting. Demir's lip was busted and his teeth had gone pink from the blood. Braden had an insane urge to lean forward and lick at it.
It was then that he realized they were both hard. Hard against each other. Demir's hips gave a little roll upward, as best they could with Braden's full weight on him.
Braden gasped and grabbed a handful of Demir's hair. He'd gone to tug at it to stop Demir, but he ended up just holding it. Braden was either more high than he'd realized, or Demir was splayed out under him. Under him, willing, and initiating.
Heat curled in Braden's gut, and that was his queue to stumble up and away. He stared, wide eyed and silent at Demir for a moment, before he ran as fast as he could to his room.
He slammed his door shut and locked it, because he knew Demir would follow. He always did, always tried to make things better. Tried to fix his mistakes right when they happened, like that would make their effects less long-lasting.
Braden didn't want to talk to Demir. Didn't want to talk to anyone at all. It had never felt like that before. Not with anyone. Not that electric, sizzling desire in his gut to feel good and make Demir feel even better.
He forced himself up and into his shower. The cold spray made his dick flag quickly. It did nothing for the terror pumping that made his heart pump in his throat.
Braden had his solution, and for the first time in his life, he wished he didn't.