Frequencies of Us Chapter 61: Fists and a Fall

Mateo POV

I’m walking out of school, Noah next to me, my heart beating fast from seeing him. The air’s hot, sticky, and my hands itch, restless. We’re by the parking lot when I hear it—Ryan’s voice, loud and mean. “Hey, fairy boy!” he yells, pointing at Noah, laughing with his jock buddies. My stomach twists, anger boiling up quick, and I feel my fists clench, tight and hard.

Noah stops, face going red, and I step in front, chest puffing out. “Shut your mouth,” I say, voice low, mad as hell. Ryan smirks, steps closer, and says, “What, gonna cry for your boyfriend?” My blood burns, hot and fast, and I swing, fist smashing his jaw. He stumbles back, cursing loud, and the other guys yell, rushing me. I don’t care—just see Noah, scared, and I swing again, hitting another one, knuckles stinging.

“Mateo, stop!” Noah shouts, grabbing my arm, but I shake him off, breathing hard. Ryan’s on the ground, nose bloody, and I feel good, strong, like I’d do anything for Noah. The jocks back off, muttering, and I turn, grab Noah’s hand, and pull him away, fast. “Come on,” I say, voice rough, and drag him to the locker room, my heart slamming wild.

We’re inside, alone, door locked, and I push him against the wall, hard. My lips crash into his, rough, kissing him deep. He moans, loud, hands grabbing my shirt, pulling me closer. “I’d kill for you,” I say, voice hoarse, and kiss him again, tongue sliding in, tasting him. My dick’s hard, pressing my shorts, and I grind into him, feeling him through his jeans. He groans, needy, and my chest tightens, heat rushing through me.

I rip his shirt off, tossing it, and run my hands over his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding. He yanks my shorts down, quick, and my dick springs out, thick and ready. I tug his jeans off, fast, and grab his ass, lifting him up. His legs wrap around me, tight, and I spit in my hand, slicking up, pressing against him. I slide in, hard, deep, and he gasps, loud, nails clawing my back. “Fuck, Mateo,” he says, voice breaking, and I thrust, wild, slamming him against the wall.

It’s sweaty, hot, and I fuck him fast, hips snapping, feeling him tight around me. His nails dig in, scratching hard, and I groan, loud, loving it. I grab his dick, pump it quick, and he moans, nonstop, head tipping back. My sweat drips, mixing with his, and I thrust deeper, heat building low in my gut. “You’re mine,” I growl, panting, and he nods, gasping, “Yes, yes.”

I fuck him harder, wall shaking, and he tenses, dick jerking in my hand. He cums, hot and thick, spilling over my fingers, and it hits me—I cum too, deep inside him, groaning loud, body shaking. Cum drips down our thighs, wet and messy, and I hold him there, breathing fast, chest pressed to his. I kiss him slow, soft, lips shaky, and he smiles, small, warm. My heart feels full, big, like he’s all I need.

We pull apart, fixing our clothes, and I grin, still buzzing. He looks at me, eyes soft, and my chest skips, happy. But then Coach bangs on the door, loud and mad. “Mateo! Open this!” he yells, and my stomach drops, cold hitting fast. I unlock it, slow, and he storms in, face red. “You’re suspended again,” he says, voice hard, pointing at me. “Fighting? Done.”

My chest burns, anger flaring up, and I look at Noah, standing quiet. “It’s your fault,” I snap, mad, words spilling out. “Distracting me all the time.” His face falls, hurt, and my heart twists, guilt mixing with rage. Coach shakes his head, says, “Office, now,” and walks out. I grab my bag, fists tight, and Noah says, “Mateo, wait,” voice small, but I storm off, mad at him, mad at me, head spinning.

I get home late, sneakers dragging, knuckles bruised from Ryan. Mom’s in the living room, TV on, and I try to sneak past. She stands, fast, and grabs my arm. “What’s this?” she says, voice sharp, holding up a crumpled note. My heart jumps, seeing it—“I saw you” in black ink. My hands sweat, panic clawing up, and she stares, eyes narrow. “You in a gang, Mateo?” she asks, loud, scared, and my stomach twists, tight.

“No,” I say, quick, shaking my head, but she steps closer, gripping the note. “Then what? Tell me!” she yells, and I feel trapped, chest hurting. I can’t say it’s about Noah, about us—can’t let her know. “It’s nothing,” I mutter, voice low, and pull away, heart racing. She glares, breathing hard, and I feel her worry, heavy on me. My head’s a mess, mad at Noah, scared of the note, and I don’t know what’s coming.

Then my phone buzzes, loud in my pocket, snapping me out of it. I pull it out, hands shaky, and see a text from Ryan. My breath catches, fast, and I open it. My heart stops, ice hitting hard. “Told Coach everything. You’re fucked,” it says, and my hands tremble, phone slipping. I look up, Mom still staring, note in her hand, and hear Coach’s voice in my head, suspension echoing. My chest locks up, panic slamming in, and I feel Noah slipping away, everything crashing down, waiting to explode.