Sweet Boy [COMPLETED]

~1~

REMI ¤ POV

"Hey, sweet boy, what's up?"

I was distracted as I ruffled the papers over my desk, searching for a pen to jot some notes down about the last client who'd walked in. But the sniffle on the other end of the phone made me pause, thoughts of work immeadiately draining away.

"Tyler? What's the matter honey?"

"Th-they laughed at me," my little brother whimpered through the phone, letting me know that he was most definately crying. My heart fell and a puff of defeated air left my lips. I pressed my hand to my forehead, cursing the world for being so cruel.

When Tyler told me he was running for student council last week, I'd grabbed him and spun him around, so excited and so damn proud of him that I could've screamed. He'd been ecstatic, his smile so wide that it could've cured any broken heart.

We'd spent the whole weekend preparing his poster, going over his pledges and speech, and I'd spent the morning styling his hair and straightening out his school uniform until he looked absolutely handsome and ready to conquer the world.

There had been a small voice in the back of my head, telling me not to let him do this, knowing that there was a chance that he would get hurt, wanting to protect him. But who would I be to stop my amazing brother from being himself and going after his dreams and fighting for his rights? I would be a deadbeat asshole and it would contradict everything I'd ever taught him about loving, accepting and cherishing himself.

"Tell me what happened," I encouraged gently, my hurt turning into rage for Tyler. I would be down to that school in a heartbeat and rain hell down on them if anything happened to him that could've been stopped. I didn't care for the opinions of his teachers or classmates but the school had a moral duty to protect Tyler from open discrimination.

"It was my turn to present," Tyler sniffled and I wanted to reach through the phone and wrap my arms around him. "I got up and I had my poster but... as soon as," he choked up and I cursed, clenching my fists.

Pledge number seven: EVERYONE should be allowed to wear skirts or shorts or trousers or pinafores, as long as they are part of the school uniform. We should all have a choice!

That pledge had meant the most to him and I remember holding him in my arms on his first day of secondary school when I'd had to let him know about the school's uniform policy. He was devastated.

Boys must wear trousers or shorts. Girls must wear skirts or pinafores. It was a strict, catholic school, the school I went to when I was his age and the school our parents decided Tyler should attend too before they died.

I'd been looking around, trying to find other alternatives to the stifling institute, knowing how oppressed and out of place Tyler felt there. But the nearest community school was an hour away and I couldn't afford the weekly transport costs it would take to get him there and back. Right now, he was being brave and doing well where he was, but I knew sometimes... it was hell for him.

Tyler didn't get bullied. No, when the school realised that I was an intimidating, six-foot-four black guy who would kill for my little brother, they knew damn well that shit wouldn't fly with me. I let his teacher know, I let his school board know and I let his head master know that if anything happened to Tyler, I'd make their lives a living hell. I showed face to every parents meeting, assembly, bring your mom, dad, grandparents to school day. I was there and I made sure that anything to do with Tyler was my business. I didn't fuck around.

On his first day of school, I made sure to walk Tyler through the school yard and right up to his classroom. I made sure that all of the other kids knew my face. They fucked with him, I fucked with them. Teenagers could be nasty and there weren't no way some pimple faced younger with a stick up their ass would make life hard for my baby. No way.