Random One-Shot Collection (MxM) | Completed

Wishing He Was Mine

I moved closer and popped my head out from behind a tree. He was there again. The boy was reading another book under his favorite tree's canopy. I felt upset when I saw the bruises on his face, even though he looked strong.

I ducked my head behind the tree when the boy looked up. I waited for a few long moments, then peeked out from behind the tree trunk again. He was reading again.

I was relieved that he hadn't caught me watching him. Most people got scared and ran away, so I never saw them again. But I'm going to make sure that doesn't happen this time. I want to protect this boy and I hope he makes me his own in return.

As the sun began to fall, the boy snapped the book shut and stuffed it in his bag, then got up. I hid again, but I heard his footsteps leave the edge of the forest. I watched him go with longing. What I would give to be at his side. He looked to be in so much pain. I wanted to ease it for him.

I dipped my head and made my way towards home, making sure to grab a quick meal on the way. I chowed down at home, then cleaned up a bit before going to bed.

The next afternoon, when I returned to the same glen, the boy had even more bruises. A dark feeling rose inside me; I wanted to tear apart the ones who hurt him. He was special to me. How could they hurt him? His smile was so gentle as it faced the worn pages and, although I wished that smile was directed at me, I'll take comfort in knowing that he's okay for now.

I sat down later, still watching over him from my secluded position. The warm breeze was soothing, so I know those gentle tendrils caressed the boy's bruised, aching form in a good way. His grass-green eyes were starting to close, his muscles were losing their tension, and the book began to slide from his hands. The boy snapped awake and sighed aloud, grumbling to himself about something.

The breeze was downwind, so any sound from his lips was whisked away. I rubbed my face and continued watching him. I want to be next to him and feel his arms around me, thanking me for being at his side.

I shook my head. That was impossible. It would be a miracle if he made me his own. Oh, how I wished for that miracle.

The boy had fallen asleep. Out of curiosity, I got up and silently walked closer to his tree. I made sure not to get too close, but now his face was much clearer. A couple of his fingers were slightly crooked, his nose was like that too, and bruises snaked down his throat and under his shirt. My chest ached. I wanted to do something for him—anything for that boy.

"Mm," he mumbled.

I flinched back into the shadows. I returned to my hiding spot and dutifully watched over him until he left again in the evening.

This time, however, I followed him. It was incredibly risky, but it felt necessary. I had to see where I could go to protect him. I made no sound on the pavement as I skirted around cars and buildings. If the boy noticed, he clearly didn't care that I was following him.

That made me a bit happy. At least he wasn't scared.

The boy trudged towards a brick house and slowly entered it. Before he could even get inside, a loud crash echoed. As the door closed, the screams were suddenly muffled and I felt a chill run down my spine. I really wish he was mine.

He didn't return the next day, which made me really worried. The boy didn't return for many days, but when he did he brought a friend. I bristled and clenched my jaw. I was supposed to be at his side!

A shorter boy with blond hair had his hands on my boy, feeling his face and dark hair. Anger and jealousy welled inside me, but there was nothing I could do. I wanted to cry while I watched the shorter boy sit next to the one I wanted to be mine. He was smiling at the shorter boy and not at his book, so I couldn't imagine his precious smile ever being aimed at me. That short, blond boy should feel blessed. He has my spot.