Book of BxB One Shots

Loving You Hurts

*Edited Oct. 11th, 2016.

I created a new cover for the story, and would like to know what you guys think. Check it out in the media image!

Note: As of Dec. 6th, 2016, this short story has become a work-in-progress novel, which you can find on my profile. It's title is still Loving You Hurts, and the two parts that are in this book will remain here, unedited, whereas the story that will be posted over there has undergone revision. I hope you guys will enjoy the rewritten story, and don't forget to leave feedback about what you think of the revised version compared to this one.

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The halls were silent as Clint made his way to the boys washroom, his hall pass stuffed safely in his back pocket.

It was Clinton's first year in high school, and he turned fifteen today. He had never particularly liked his birthday, mostly because his foster parents never celebrated it, but as birthdays went for Clinton, this one was the worst. His day was doomed from the beginning; having woken up to the same left overs he got everyday, Clint knew as soon as he saw the look in his foster dad's eyes that he was in trouble. After being dragged into the master bedroom and thrown onto the double bed that sat unmade in the middle of the room, he was bound to the headboard and quickly stripped of his clothes. He'd whimpered, but otherwise laid silent as he felt the first hand slide up his inner thigh. All he wanted was to be left alone, to go to school and pass through the day without having to be someone's stress reliever or punching bag. He didn't think it was too much to ask. But he should have known from the constant beatings and unanswered pleas that he would never get to enjoy one day of peace.

That's why, as he walked through the halls during fourth period -- the hallways deserted of life as kids sat in classrooms learning -- he made his way to the washrooms with a somber expression. His eyes were downcast, hands scratching at his arms through the sleeves of the tattered oversize hoodie he wore, as tears stung his eyes. Not yet, he thought as he quickened the scratching of his arms. Don't cry yet, don't let them see you being weak.

He quickened his pace, hurrying even more to the safety of the washrooms where he could be alone for just a moment.

During his fourth period English class, Clint had to recite the poem he wrote for the class assignment. This was fine, except for the fact that he had to walk to the front of the class, where everyone could stare at him and the rags he wore as clothes. What made it even worse was that Dimitri -- who was Clint's crush and number one tormentor -- had the class with him. Dimitri enjoyed making fun of Clint's clothes, his shaggy black hair that desperately needed trimmed, his chipped front tooth which his foster dad gave him, and of course, his awkward stuttering. He would push Clint around, and was the cause of many of the scars that littered Clint's body. So it was only natural for Clint to feel nervous, as Dimitri watched him with a lopsided smirk and crossed arms from his seat in the back of the room. The look sent shivers down Clint's spine, as well as heat to his cheeks. The crush Clint had on Dimitri was one he wished he didn't have, but he couldn't help it. Crushes weren't something you could just turn on or off. Of course, it didn't help that Dimitri was attractive. Black hair that framed his face and fell into his grey eyes, his corded muscles that showed through the white v-neck he wore beneath a real black leather jacket, and his form fitting faded blue jeans that hung from his hips and accentuated his long legs. Dimitri Langford stood at a height of six-three and towered over almost the entire student population. He was every girls dream and every boys worst nightmare -- except for Clint, that is. He hated Dimitri for always picking on him, but he couldn't help the heat that rushed to his cheeks each and every time Dimitri looked at him, or ignore the butterflies that erupted in his stomach whenever Dimitri got close to him. Which is why, as Clint had stood at the front of the class reciting the poem he had worked so hard on, he couldn't help but feel tears well up and sting his eyes as Dimitri began laughing and making fun of the poem.