Floating Face Down (boyxboy)

Chapter Two

[A/N] Quick reminder there's some rough language and fighting. Also, I changed the name of the guy Elliot likes to Victor.

Sorry about the rare updates, I've got a lot of books to write at the moment and ending them is more difficult than starting them. A bad ending can ruin a whole book.  (ㆆ ^ ㆆ) That said I'm going to switch up my schedule and put this on the weekly update list on the 1st of February, but I've yet to decide what day.

Do y'all like the name Elliot? If not let me know what names you like instead and I can put it to a poll on my Twitter page (@OkiNeptune) ✰

Victor was the kind of guy whose mom just fixed him up right when she was making him, good genetics, perfect teeth and skin and the kind of muscle that looked more natural rather than due to athletics. His hair was blond, eyebrows a little darker, light grey-blue eyes. Some kind of Nordic descent. 

He was tall, but in a good way, not half made of neck, nice legs and broad shoulders. When he leaned over my desk slightly as he passed through the tables in slight disarray I always got a little thumping in my heart, trying not to look up at him and make it obvious.

Victor was the only one with enough social credit to stop people from messing with me and get away with it, everyone liked the guy, not just me. If the Patrick or one of those guys continued after Victor declared in his own affable way not to do just that there was usually some chorus of dissatisfaction from our classmates.

I'd get it double as bad later if they were shamed into stopping like that. One thing I'd learned over my time being the least likeable person in the school, apparently, was that half their anger probably came from guilt. The more you made them face up to how shitty they were being, the more pissed they became, someone had to be at fault for how bad they felt and it couldn't be them.

Still, it was the thought that counted, the feeling in the moment, the vindication, in a way, and the tickle of happiness that came from having someone step up to my defence.

He didn't say 'hi', but he usually noticed me, more so than anyone else did. And when I smiled at him from across the class he winked at me, with the kind of charismatic ease that tied me up in knots.

It was successful anyway, every time, a little flutter in my chest and a smile on my lips for the next half an hour. 

I tried not to make it obvious, I was definitely not out. I might be able to tolerate bullying but I wasn't looking to help them out with finding things to use against me, others might be able to but not me.

The teacher stepped into the room, a Miss Sharma, short and pretty with an amazingly thick set of purple rimmed glasses and shiny long black hair she seemed to have permanently set in a side plait.

"Good morning guys." She put her folder down and stopped to shush the kids still talking and waggle her hand to direct the ones still out of their seats into the places they were meant to be sitting. " Come on, hurry. Lets get your attendance down!"

Miss Sharma was our form teacher, I saw her every morning. Mixed feelings every time.

She was a genuinely great teacher, I meant that. She taught Biology, my favourite subject, knew her subject like the back of her hand.

But in the end it didn't matter, I didn't like her, because every day she came in late and left early. And the moment she was gone, the moment certain people got bored, it was the moment they started messing with me, like a street dog, an easy target for apathetic bored teens.