The Air We Breathe (BoyXBoy)

Chapter 4

Marcus

            Jesus.

It’s been a week since I told the whole school that Collin and I are dating, and despite the fact that I totally saved his ass from complete humiliation he seems to continue to stab me with his sharp words. As if I’m some sort of scum that he is only dealing with.

Yes, I know that attacking him like I did in the locker room was wrong. How could I not know that, but he made me so damn angry when he said those things about Caleb. The fact that he refused to apologize made me doubt if there was any bit of humanity left inside him at all and I was scared that I was truly losing him.

Then he cried.

After I had touched him and harassed him until he released inside my hand, he shot away from me and tried to attempt his escape. Of course me being the caring friend I am, and being unable to leave him in a moment of distress stopped him.

I saw his scar.

That scar had never been there before; when I saw him during our first lacrosse season he constantly took off his clothes on the field. I would try so desperately not to stare, but he was so beautiful, that small tight little body that looked like it would fit perfectly in my muscled arms. His skin so smooth, and pale, it looked extremely soft and I had to physically restrain myself from running my hands across his body in admiration.

That perfect little body is now riddled with that long horrifying mark.  The pink slightly puckered skin stretches from his hip down into the confines of his pants, where god only knows how far it reaches.

Did he do that?

What could possibly happen to Collin that he would harm himself so greatly like that, cut into his own beautiful flesh deep enough to leave that kind of scar?

Then again….what if he didn’t do it, what if someone else hurt him like that?

The thought has me boiling inside and I angrily throw an empty glass that’s sitting beside my bed across the room. The colored glass smashes against the red wall and shatters into a million pieces onto my floor. I’ll have to clean that up later.

Who would dare to touch him like that? Who would dare harm him in such a way? Did he bleed a lot? did that person even feel sorrow for what they did? Did they even apologize? Stupid questions continue to throw themselves around in the confines of my head, bouncing against my skull, causing a splitting pain to shoot through me. Groaning I roll around onto my stomach shoving my eyes into the blackness of my pillow, blocking out the impending daylight coming through the blinds of my window.

What about the pictures?

The photos of Collin and I in the boys locker room after lacrosse practice, my hands in his pants doing whatever the mind imagines to his body. My face was hidden in his bare shoulder, but his face was completely visible, his gorgeous features contorted into a look of complete and utter pleasure, as his hands dug into my arms painfully. The little crescent shaped marks are still etched into my flesh from where his nails entered the skin, drawing blood.

Who could have taken those photos? We had been completely alone in that room I was sure of it, Jason was the last to leave before us. With interest I hoist my body up from my bed letting the material fall from my naked torso, padding barefoot over to my desk where I pull out a copy of the photo from my drawer.  I adamantly skim over the picture studying the angle and the way it was photographed.

The angle it’s taken from has to be from the door into the hallway. The door that only a few moments later Collin would be bursting out of, in a hurry to get as far away as he possibly could from me. That means he must have seen them, without knowing it he must have run right past them! Grabbing my phone from my desk I quickly dial Collins number.