So Where Does that Put Us (boy x boy)

Chapter One - Justin

Remember smiling?

Those are the two words that pierce my brain as I trudge into the blinding sunlight at the end of school. All around are smiling faces, laughter, people living their lives, and then there's me. I rub my bruised eye and shoulder, grunting a quiet "Oww."

The sea of students rushes out from behind me, making me trip and fall flat on my face. "Loser!" Says a voice from above me, grabbing my stuff out of my weak grip and running away. I don't bother looking to see who took my backpack. Only a few people acknowledge I actually exist and Rodrick Walsh is the only one who does it to torture me.

I sit up, rubbing my throbbing head. My jeans tore open, revealing scabby knees. People filter around me as if I'm not even there. No one even asks if I'm okay, why would they? I'm pathetic. Everything is pathetic.

Walsh likes to call me his personal wimp. I'm the only one he beats up and he's the only one that beats me up. It's like a relationship. He's true to beating me up on a regular basis and I sit there and take it like the "man" I'll never live up to be, on a regular basis. I force myself to stand, walking toward the iron gate that leads out into the city.

How will I explain it this time? Black eyes are always harder to deal with, but I can work with some scratched knees and elbows. I could easily have fallen on my bicycle. The same bike sitting in the way back of the garage that I haven't ridden for...about a year, three months, and sixteen days give or take. It doesn't even matter anyway, even as I come up with excuse after excuse to hide the fact Walsh beats me up, my parents never ask about every black eye, bruised lip, twisted ankle, and scraped skin.

I walk down the marble steps, scanning my card to open the gate and step out into the city. I stare at the school sign for a moment, reading the golden words that essentially mean "nerd school": West Imperial Mountain Preparatory School. A school that shouldn't have a fuck up like me.

Cars honk in the street only a few feet away and I can't escape the feeling they're honking at me. I need to get out. Get out of this place and flee to someplace I don't know either. People push past me, grunting annoyances about me not moving out of their way. My breath catches in my throat and I fall against the school sign, stars dancing before my eyes. Not now! My stomach growls and my hands start shaking. I have to get up. I need to get the fuck up.

Pushing through the spots in my vision I rejoin the stream of pedestrians. Just as the entrance to the metro station appears through the thick crowd, a hand comes crashing down on my shoulder.

"Dude!" The owner of the hand says, "I've been looking for you."

I turn around slowly and pull my shoulder free of his hand. I force my gaze up to look into his dark almond shaped eyes. "Hey Ben..."

I give him a weak smile.

Ben raises his perfectly sculpted eyebrow, which is about the only hint of an expression he has on his perfectly sculpted face. He looks me up and down my face, analyzing all my imperfections, probably finding so many it overwhelms his operating system (I'm still convinced he's a robot sometimes, he has the emotional capacity of a toothpick). "Who did this?" He gestures to my black eye, pulling my arm and walking toward the metro.

Excuses don't work on Ben. Unlike my parents, he actually asks about all the scraped knees, black eyes, skipped lunches, and long sleeves. "Oh uhm...I took a wrestling elective?"

The eyebrow goes even higher and he yanks me down the metro steps so I can't get a look at his expression. Not that he ever has much of one. "A wrestling elective in the middle of the semester?"

"Did I say elective? I meant club, yeah, a wrestling club. Just started. Today..."

"Who did this to you?"