Drive me Wild, Rival(BL)

Nico

​My eyes welled up with hot, stinging tears as Uncle Anderson stepped directly between my grandfather and me.

The towering presence of the only man who had ever made me feel safe in this house felt like a shield blocking the toxic aura radiating from the head of the table.

Anderson lowered his hand, his sharp brown eyes cutting through the air as he turned his frame completely toward Geum-ho.

​"Is this the truth, Father?" Anderson asked. His voice was low, deceptively calm, but it carried a dangerous vibration that made the air in the dining hall instantly drop to sub-zero temperatures.

​Geum-ho jumped immediately in his seat, his face twisting into a frantic, desperate mask of panic as he tried to claw back his defenses. "Of course not! That can’t be! Why the hell are you believing him? Do you honestly expect that I would treat my own nephew that way? He is lying to get out of this homosexual shit! He is possessed by a demon, and he is—"

​His vile words were cut violently short as a heavy object cracked hard against his head.

​Uncle Anderson hadn’t even hesitated. In one fluid, explosive motion, he snatched a heavy silver spoon from the table and hurled it straight across the space. It struck Geum-ho squarely on the forehead with a sickening, metallic thud.

The blunt force split the skin instantly, and a thick trail of dark blood began bleeding down his face, dripping past his eyes and splashing onto his linen collar.

​A horrified, ringing scream tore from the throat of Geum-ho’s wife. She bolted up from her chair, her hand trembling violently as she pointed directly at Anderson. "What the hell is wrong with both of you? Two homosexuals standing here lying like this and trying to destroy—"

​"Enough!"

​My grandfather’s voice broke through the screams and the escalating chaos like a thunderclap. The sheer volume of his roar made the silverware rattle against the porcelain plates. He stared intensely at me, his dark eyes boring into my soul with an icy fury, before he slowly turned his face back to Anderson. "I have no words to say concerning this matter right now. We should instead focus on your mother’s memorial ceremony. Then, we can address this later."

​As expected.

​A sickening, suffocating wave of familiarity washed over me. I knew my grandfather was going to act like this entire conversation had never happened, just as he had done years ago. He was turning a blind eye to the rot in this house, using the traditional facade of family duty to cover up a monster. It was the exact same way he had handled it when my father, Min-jun, died—silently pushing him to commit suicide under the crushing weight of a shame that wasn’t even his to bear.

​"I knew it," I said suddenly.

​A sharp, hysterical laughter burst from my throat, the sound echoing off the high, vaulted ceilings, entirely unhinged and raw in the tense room. My hand was still locked tightly in Alaric’s, my fingers gripping him like a man drowning in a storm. "I knew this is exactly what you were going to say, Grandfather! Just like all those years ago! You pretended not to see it, you forced me to keep quiet, and you let your own son die because he was ashamed! You are doing it again!"

​I yelled loudly, my free hand flying up to grip my hair tightly, tugging at the roots as the built-up agony of fifteen years tore out of my chest. "What the hell have I done so wrong to this family?! To deserve all of this?!" I screamed so loudly that I could feel the veins on my neck burning, bulging beneath my skin as if they were about to pop.

​I was completely fed up. I was so exhausted from having to go through all of this, tired of the suffocating pretense, and seeing how they comfortably sat there acting as if none of it had ever happened made me feel like my mind was tearing at the seams.

​Beside me, I felt Uncle Anderson’s hand rub my shoulder gently, his large palm offering a steady, grounding pressure. "I have got this, Nicholas," he muttered quietly, his deep voice cutting through the ringing in my ears. "You wouldn’t have to carry this on your own anymore."

​The tears welled up even more at his words, a lone, hot tear escaping my eye and tracing a burning line down my jaw. In the next millisecond, I felt Alaric’s hand tighten securely around mine.

​I looked up at him quickly, my heart hammering fiercely against my ribs. There was absolutely no emotion on his face. His striking features were entirely hard to read, frozen in a stone mask so perfect that I couldn’t figure out what was going on inside his head.

A dark, terrifying panic clawed at my throat. I wanted to ask him right then and there—I wanted to look into his eyes and find out if he was disgusted by me, if the revelation of my ruined past made him see me as something contaminated. But I was too afraid to even think about the answer.

​What if he doesn’t want me anymore? What if I disgust him now and he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me?

​Alaric was the one who had brought me out of my darkest places over the years, the anchor that kept me grounded on the grid when the shadows threatened to consume me. But right now, surrounded by the ghosts of this house, I was suddenly ten years old again—locked in a pitch-black, silent room, screaming my lungs out while the people outside ignored my cries.

​Anderson’s voice snapped me back to reality as he spat angrily toward the head of the table. "Father, I know that I can’t hit you right now even though I truly want to... but fuck you."

​A sharp, collective gasp escaped from everyone’s lips around the table. The cousins sat paralyzed, their eyes widened. I knew they all had wanted to say those exact words to the tyrant for years, but they were too chickened out, too terrified of losing their standing, to ever voice their thoughts.

​"Mind your tone with me, boy," my grandfather warned, his voice shaking with a dangerous undercurrent of absolute authority.

​"Or what, Father? Are you going to drive me to my death like you did my eldest brother?" Anderson demanded angrily, stepping closer until his massive frame completely cast a shadow over the old man. "Is that what you are going to do?"

​My grandfather’s eyes lightened up for a second. For a brief, fleeting flash, I saw a look of profound sadness followed by a heavy, suffocating guilt on his face, before he forcefully slammed his emotional walls back up. "I am not going to talk about that. We still have your mother’s memorial to decide. That should be the focus now."

​"Are you saying what Seo-jun said is all true, Father?’’ my mother yelled, her voice vibrating with a sudden, chaotic rage as she slammed her hands on the table. She stared at my grandfather, her face completely pale as the reality finally began to pierce through her denial. "You knew that my son was getting violated by this pig? You knew it, and you drove Min-jun to his death because of it? Is it true!"

​My grandfather shook his head gently, his expression turning entirely cold and unyielding. "I have nothing to say concerning this. Like I said, the main focus is the memorial, then we address this."