I Was Made For Lovin' You

I Hate It Here, Mike

~MIKES POV~

I was eating lunch with Will at school as usual. I look over at his metal lunchbox and see he only has a small cheese sandwich and half a chocolate bar.

"Are you still hungry?" I say after he finishes everything, which didn't take long.

He seemed zoned out so I said again.
"Will?"

"Oh yeah, no I'm fine don't worry"

"You sure? You've hardly had any food."

"That's all my Mom bought, I'm not rich like you Mike!" Will giggled for a minute but I could tell he was lying about not being hungry.

"You can have some of my food if you want."

"Really?"

"Of course, your my best friend!"

I have always felt different around Will, but a good different. A safe different. A welcomed different. It's not the feeling you get around normal friends.

...

Or best friends, for that matter.

"Earth to Mike..?" I quickly glance over to Wills hand waving in front of my face and I see that he has a massive smile. I love it. In a friend way. Obviously.

"Oh yeah, sorry. Did you want anything then?"

"Could I have some of your salted chips?"

"Sure!"

We open the bag and begin to share, each of us taking turns to grab a handful, as if on shifts. I saw a couple kids look at us and giggle, but I assumed it was just the usual 'your a nerd' and 'freak' and 'dork' stuff. I didn't like it, but I was pretty blind to it now.

"Hey Mike, I'm just going to wash my hands now that  I have salt all over them!"

"Oh yeah that's fine!"

Will gets up awkwardly, trying not to touch his salted hands on his clothes. He then walks over to the bathroom, but I see some kids follow him.

~WILLS POV~

I get up to walk to the bathroom. Me and Mike just shared some chips, so now the salt is all over my hands. After I rinse off the soap I flick my hands a little in the sink to get the excess water off and then walk over to the paper towels. Then the door flings open.

"Thought I would find you here, so I guess this is fairy land huh?"

"What?"

"We saw you with that other guy at lunch, this is what I hate about gay people. Always hitting on straight, unavailable dudes. So gross."

"What do you mean unavailable?" I say, genuinely curious.

"He's dating that freak, isn't he?"

"They broke up ages ago."

"Oh well I bet you would like that wouldn't you."

"And i'm not gay! And I'm not... hitting on him." I protested.

"Whatever, fag!" As the words slipped off the kids tongue I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, like I had just been... punched. I felt it. Again. Again. Again. This time I felt a pain simultaneously in my leg. And then my back. And then my face. At this point I'm on the floor, crawling into a little ball. I can see the bruises up my arms and legs.