Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]-Chapter 32: You’re not the one feeling the pain.

Chapter 32: Chapter 32: You’re not the one feeling the pain.
"...Also that..." Lev said. "But mainly that I can finally stop pretending instant noodles are cool. I mean they are but a man needs some real food and I’m talking about them spicy barbecue ribs.."
-_-
Lance snorted softly.
"Send me your details.." he said. "I’ll transfer it before I sleep."
"Already sent.." Lev replied instantly
"You really are prepared aren’t you." Lance lips twitched when he saw the account details in his dms.
"Always.." Lev said proudly.
"Opportunities like this don’t knock twice."
Another pause followed, quieter this time.
Then Lev cleared his throat.
"Hey.." he said, softer again. "I know we joke. But... thanks for stepping up. You always do."
Lance stared at the wall, the weight in his chest easing just a fraction.
"Someone has to.." he replied. "And Dad sure isn’t."
"Yeah.." Lev said quietly. "I won’t be like him."
Lance closed his eyes.
"You better or I’ll blow your head off. One is enough.." he said.
Lev exhaled, then like a switch flipped, his energy snapped right back.
"Okay but seriously.." he added, grinning through the phone, "I’m telling everyone my brother is rich now."
"I am not rich."
"You just dropped twenty-five hundred like it was pocket change."
"It was not pocket change."
Lev laughed. "Too late. You’re officially ’Loaded’ in my contacts."
"Go to sleep.." Lance said, shaking his head.
"The poor shouldn’t sleep.." Lev replied smugly. "But yeah. Goodnight, big bro."
"Goodnight, Lev."
The call ended and Lance switched to his Cash app, sending the 2500 to Lev.
The account showed red after. That was all he had left in that account.
But at least, it was enough to settle Lev’s rent for the month. And if he budgeted well the remaining 1300 should be enough for him to settle his bills.
That was how he survived most of his college years without asking too much from his parents.
While it’s a bit different in Lev’s case. He hoped his younger brother would be dependent as well as independent on his own.
He didn’t want him to feel like he was alone and needed to do everything on his own, but he also wanted him to be responsible.
Lance let the phone fall onto his chest and stared at the ceiling again.
For the first time that night, the noise in his head dulled just a little.
He turned onto his side with a low groan, the movement sending a dull reminder through his lower back.
Right. That.
He sighed and reached for his phone again, intending to set it down on the nightstand—
Buzz.
A notification lit up the screen.Lance frowned slightly, then unlocked it.
[Ansel:]
[Don’t forget to use the ointment.]
Lance stared.
Once.
Twice.
"...You’ve got to be kidding me."
Heat crept up his neck, crawling straight into his ears. Of all the things he’d expected tonight...that was not one of them.
He had, in fact, completely forgotten.
Not because he didn’t need it.
But because the idea of actually... applying it was mortifying.
He rolled onto his back again, arm flung over his eyes like that might somehow block the message from existence.
"Great.." he muttered to the empty room. "Fantastic. Love that you’re still in my head."
The fact that Ansel remembered...remembered enough to text him about, made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t like.
It wasn’t concern or kindness.
It felt... intrusive.
Like a reminder that even now, even here, he wasn’t fully out of Ansel’s reach.
He typed back before he could overthink it.
[Lance:]
[I remembered.]
A pause.
Then the three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Reappeared.
[Ansel:]
[You’re lying.]
Lance stared at the message with a hiss.
He was annoyingly accurate.
He exhaled sharply through his nose and pushed himself upright with a quiet hiss, already regretting every life choice that led him here.
He shuffled over to the dresser, grabbed the bag, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed like it personally offended him.
The ointment stared back at him.
Like it had a grin, mocking his current predicament.
He picked it up between two fingers like it might explode.
"...Why is this my life," he whispered to no one.
His phone buzzed again.
[Ansel:]
[Use it before it gets worse.]
Lance swallowed, then typed one-handed.
[Lance:]
[You don’t have to remind me. I’m not a child.]
This time the reply came almost immediately.
[Only kids cry, in my opinion you’re a big baby..]
-_-
Lance frowned, not finding it funny. It hurt so bad, was he expecting so just go through with it and not shed a single tear?
Others may not have shed a single tear but they weren’t him. He didn’t know how to stop crying when he was hurt.
[You hurt me, I was in pain cause I was getting impaled by your huge dick without any preparation. Just because you were angry. Getting me medicine or telling me I need to take it, does not solve anything. You’re not the one feeling the pain.]
After this he outrightly blocked Ansel’s number.
He had been through a lot today, he just wanted the day to end.
But his troubles were far from over.
After finally applying the ointment and taking the drugs.
He flopped on the bed, it was time to sleep and put this day behind.
Lance placed his phone on the wireless charger and yawned for a good two seconds.
This would have been the perfect moment but it was ruined by the sound of the doorbell ringing.
Lance’s lips twitched, who the hell would be at his door by this time?
The doorbell rang again.
Longer this time.
Lance’s jaw tightened and he sighed helplessly.
Whoever it was... wasn’t leaving.
He swung his legs off the bed with a quiet hiss, irritation flaring hot in his chest.
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, already marching toward the door. "I’m coming.
He was halfway down the hall when his phone vibrated on the charger.
"I swear, if this is some delivery I didn’t order—"
He yanked the door open.
And froze.
Ansel stood there staring at him with obvious anger in his eyes.