He's Kind of Sad

Plucking

Josh and Tyler were in the same language arts class.
Tyler spent his hour writing words onto a page, anxiously glancing around to make sure nobody was reading it. He wasn't ready to share this stuff yet... It was just a draft, anyways.
Josh liked to try and get pencils to stick on the ceiling. He was a troublemaker, but the teacher adored him so he never got in trouble. Well, sometimes, but not often.
They sat by each other. Josh never bugged Tyler, he seemed like a sick kid that could bust out crying any minute. Though he was a troublemaker, he wasn't mean.
At the moment, Tyler was writing something on his page about bloody fingers from plucking ukulele strings. Josh was sort of reading it.
"That's good. Do you write poetry a lot?" Hopefully that simple question wouldn't make him break down.
Tyler jumped and looked at Josh nervously. He started stumbling over some words.
"U-uh... You read it...?" He didn't want anyone to read his stuff. It was private.
"Yeah. Just a little bit though. But from what there was it was pretty good," Josh tried to have soft tone of voice.
"Thanks I guess... I write every day... It's just jumbled up junk," Tyler rubbed his arm. He didn't know why Josh was so interested.
Josh smiled at him.
"It's not junk. It's pretty good, actually."
Tyler glanced away. "Okay..."
Josh was a nice guy.