More Than One Kind Of Family (Boyxboy)

Destruction and Repair

****2nd Mod****
Dylan's POV
It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt............Dear Satan does it hurt.

My ribs ache, my backs bruised, lips bleeding, heads pounding, legs scarred. My everything hurts like hell. It hurts to much to even move. So here I am, laying on the ground, black, blue, and covered in red, in a deserted hallway.

I manage to lift my head up and look around. I see a boys bathroom not to far down the hallway. If I can get there then I can clean up and get to class, after all I missed first mod and second mod is almost over. Slowly I reach my arms out one after the other and manage to army crawl all the way to the bathroom.

It was painful and stupid, but I finally got here. I pull myself up using the sink for support and look at my face in the mirror. Normally they do a good job of not hitting my face because they know that both Delilah and Henry could, and would probably destroy them if they were to every find out. Right now though, my face is sporting a nice puffy bruise right below my right eye, that will surely be noticed by, well everyone who was to see me.

I sigh as I reach into my back pocket and pull out the makeup. Makeup that my dad bought for Delilah years ago that she never used. So I took it upon my self to um, borrow it, that way it would be put to good use. Okay that was another lie. I actually asked Delilah if I could have her old makeup, all she did was raise her eyebrows at me and point to where she kept it in a pile at the corner of her bedroom in the attic. That's one thing I love about my sporty older sister, she doesn't judge, she hardly questions, and she always accepts me. It was still incredibly awkward though, I can still remember how I stuttered and stared at my feet while I could feel my face heating up. It's impossible for me to keep my cool like Delilah can, but at least I never blow up like Henry does.

As these thoughts were running around in my head like leprechauns on St. Patrick's day, my hands were expertly working. The first thing they did was wipe the blood off my clothes and face. Secondly they uncapped the liquid concealer bottle and begin applying it over my amazingly, brilliant new shinner. Once that was done they took out the blush and small brush, thingy, to apply over the rest of my face. This would help make everything even, and hopefully like I hadn't just been crying for my sister while bleeding in the hallway.

Whether any of this was really necessary, I have no clue. After all my own family hardly looks at me, so it's not like anyone from this hell hole will.

I sigh and straighten my baggy brown T-shirt, black skinny jeans, and short curly black hair. Taking one last look at my pale complexion in the mirror, I dive out the door and into the shark infested hallway. By the way, I can't swim.

As soon as I stepped into the hallway I kinda, accidentally, slammed into someone like a bull. Hey don't judge, if you were black abd blue you'd be out of it too. It was an accident honest, I was only running top speed to my next class when I rammed into them. Luckily before I hit the ground, after bouncing off of them, strong arms wrapped themselves around my chest keeping me upright.

That all leads to where I am now. Being towered over by the guy that just saved me from face planting into cold hard tile, by my own stupidity nonetheless. I squirm under his inspecting gaze as he looks me over. I wish he would stop looking at me like that, because he almost looks like he cares, but I know he doesn't really.

One of the most popular, hottest, and smartest guys in the school most certainly can't care about me. After all I'm just a skinny, stupid, pale, little nobody. Why did he even bother to catch me?

I want to leave and head to class, but he still has a firm grip on my shoulders, holding me at arms length. Looking away from his piercing gaze I realize that we're the only two left in the once packed hallway. Looking back at his face I see a confused and.......disturbed expression? His eyes are trained on the top of my left arm near my elbow. Looking at my arm I see a large bruise (about the size of Nettles fist, wouldn't ya know.)