This Rose Bleeds (boyxboy)

Chapter ~Twenty-Nine~

DUUUUUUUN, CHAPPPPTAAAA TWENTY NIIINE

(totally not editted)

HELL YESSSSSS, ITS COMING FOLKS, ITS COMING

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.:~*  RYDER *~:.

I turned page after page in the yearbook. Stupid, you’re supposed to be forgetting about him. But the guilt wouldn’t stop making fluttering motions in my stomach. But even worse, the anger wouldn’t leave my mind. I didn’t see him at school today.

            I wasn’t even sure I was entirely angry with him anymore. I think I was just mad at everything. Whatever, why not put it on him? He doesn’t care.

            Finally I turned the page and found the people who’s last name started with S. One more page later and I found his picture.

            Nathan Strauss. His hair swept across his face. He wasn’t smiling. On some level, it looked like this boy was incapable of showing any expression. On another level, he looked close to tears. I brushed my thumb over the face void of everything. I brought the book closer to my face and scanned it over until I picked up every detail. The sweater pulled tight around his neck. The light shadows under the eyes. The mat of hair. I noticed a shadow under one of the eyes, and for a second I figured it was from his hair. But after further thought, I didn’t dismiss the idea of a bruise.

            Suddenly I had a weird idea. I kneeled in front of my bed and from under it I pulled out my other yearbooks. I chose the one from freshman year. I rolled my eyes at my goofy face. Nice picture Ryder. I found his picture and frowned.

            Messy hair. Insecure posture. Sad eyes. No smile. This irritated me. I grabbed other older yearbooks. Eighth grade. Seventh grade. Sixth grade. He looked the same. Sad. Lost. Alone.

            Fifth grade looked weird. He still looked sad. But he also looked scared.

            I didn’t even know we’ve been going to the same school since elementary. I’ve never heard of him before this year. Was that possible?

            I didn’t even want to look at his fourth grade picture. It would just look the same. Little Nathan getting smaller and smaller with a decreasing glint of light in his eyes.

            I found Strauss in the yearbook. And he was smiling.

            I unintentionally sighed in shock. Hell, he was adorable. He was smiling this childish, knowing smile. A dimple marked one side of his face. I could just imagine the moment. He would see his friends in line behind the photography, watching, trying to make him laugh. He would bite his lip and mumble at them to stop, before looking back at the camera and grinning like the perfect child.

            Comparing that picture to the others, it was hard to believe it was the same person.

            Finally I forced myself to forget the idea and shut all the yearbooks, returning them to under the bed.