Trees

Freak.

Travis Pov

I made it in the bathroom, trying to calm myself from the teacher getting mad at me because I didn't fucking draw. I don't want to, father forbids it even when I'm fucking great at it. I stood infront of a mirror, looking at the sink then up at myself.
Next thing I know, the mirror broke. I obviously didn't do that, it broke by itself.

Blood was all over the floor and the- well what's left of the mirror. I clenched my jaw, feeling the pain kick in as I opened my hand. The shards of glass sinking in. I looked at my hand, and let me tell you it wasn't pretty. Blood was everywhere, little shards of glass littered my hand and my knuckles. I turned on the water and put my hand under it, biting my tongue as it stung. My eyes watered as I watched the blood go down the drain.

Then the door opened. And at this moment, I knew I was fucked. I avoided eye contact, not even looking at who it was. I need to get out of here I started getting the shards out, hearing who's ever it was stepping on the glass. I rolled my eyes and turned off the water, I turned around about to threaten who ever it was to not tell the teacher.

But then my eyes met a pair of annoying blue ones.

The Freak.

"Travis are you okay? I have bandages if you-" I pushed him away and scoffed. "Stop acting like you fucking care, just get out of my way." I said walking to the door, not bothering to pick up the glass. "You're hand is going to get infected, let me bandage it" he said quietly. I looked back at him and glared, he was scooting the glass in a pile with his shoe. Don't father will question you for the bandages. But my hand hurts, I need them. And plus it's getting me out of class. PE sucks. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"Fine." I walked over and he started the water up. And this guy pulls out fucking bandages out of his pocket, a tweezer, and alcohol wipes. What is he? A fucking nurse? "Give me you're hand" he said opening the little package.

I groaned "This is gay" I said giving him my hand. His hands were gentle and soft. Even his movements were carful, gently wiping the cuts on my hand and picking out the little shards of class. Of course it hurt, my eyes were filled with tears, the sting and him taking out the glass shards that were deep in there. Don't cry. Boys don't cry. Don't you dare fucking cry. He stopped and put the bloody wipe on the sink, grabbing a ointment from his pocket and opening the cap. "Why the fuck do you carry this shit around with you?" I said very confused.

"Larry likes to get into fights a lot" He said, sounding focused. "Fucking idiot" I mumbled. He sighed and grabbed the bandages wrapping them around my hand. His hands were steady. Seems like he's done this a lot. "And there" he said, his eyes squinting. Is he smiling orrrr. I looked at my hand, seeing how it's wrapped nicely. "Make sure to change it when you get home" he said putting his stuff back in his pockets.

"Yeah whatever" I said starting to walk off to the door. I stopped and gripped the door handle. "Thank you freak." I said before walking out.

Dumbass.

--

"Travis Phelps" "here" painting, I always hated it. Why did I get the art classes? After this is fucking ceramics.  I hate pottery. Feels like gross goo on my hands.

Someone ran in and sighed. I looked at who it was and my body instantly went cold. "Ashly Campbell?" "Here" She said. And SHE SAT INFRONT OF ME.  GREAT. SO GREAT, WHAT THE FUCK? She glanced at me and looked away. "Okay class, today we're going to paint whatever comes to you're mind, like a free paint. So everyone grab a paint brush, a little cup of water, and a paper plate" she said pointing at where the stuff was. I got up and shoved myself in the crowd.

Brush, water cup, anddddd- there's no more paper plates, great. "Ma'am there's no more paper plates" A student spoke behind me. "That's a shame, just share with who's at you're table if they have one" she said sitting at her desk. I looked over at my table and I groaned. She has one. I walk over to the desk with my stuff, watching her squirt the paints on the plate.

I looked at my paper. What the hell do I paint? I look over at Ashley's painting. What the fuck is that- why does she have her pencil out now? What's she writi- oh fuck you.

'take a picture so it lasts longer Travis' I rolled my eyes and looked at my paper. What do I paint? I mean I can draw but I father always told me that drawing shit was a sin. HOW IS DRAWING A SIN? I picked up my paint brush and I picked a random color. Grey.

My mind wondered back to the bathroom. Sal's hands, so small but yet so gentle. I stopped. Stop thinking like a fag Travis, they're just the freaks hands, now paint them because you have nothing else to paint idiot. I started to paint the bandages first, the ones he put on my hands. My brush wondered off to the red, mixing it with white to make faint blood stains on the bandage.

I didn't know how long I've been painting, but I eventually went on autopilot, my mind going back to the bathroom, replaying the scene.

Why did he even offer to bandage me up? Why was he so gentle with me? I've been hurting him and he's so...caring. what's wrong with him. He should hate me, he's such a fucking fa- A little "woah" broke my thoughts. My eyes focused on what I was doing, and I looked at what I painted. My hand in bandages while the Freaks hands putting them on me.

"Travis I didn't know you could paint" Ashley said, staring at it. I nodded. The teacher came over and looked at it. "There was another student who drew something like this, the vibes of the two are similar" she spoke, picking my paper up and examining it closer. "Very good Mr Phelps" she said taking it away, she wrote something on it and put it on the drying rack.

I looked over at Ashley's, it was a motorcycle. Eh.

I started fiddling with my bandages, looking at the clock. "Woah dude, what happened to your hand" Ashley spoke up. I looked at her and rolled my eyes. "Now why the fuck would you care?" He snapped. She giggled a bit. This crazy bitch. "Have you never been cared for in your whole life? Because like shit dude." She said looking back down at her paper.

I scoffed and started looking at the clock again.

Fuck you.