Lavender love | BxB Romance

ᴏɴᴇ - ᴄɪɢᴀʀᴇᴛᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ

October 6th

Dropped his hated backpack near the stands, Charlie looked around cautiously. Making sure that no one was nearby, he put hand in his pocket. The click of an old cheap lighter created a spark. Leaning against the beams, he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. The body, tense without nicotine, relaxed a little. It's fine. All the lessons he was thinking about this.

Charlie closed his eyes for the moment. How fucked up everything is.

It was as if everyone had conspired and decided to annoy him at the same time. The fucking teachers with useless homework, the fucking football team that uses him as a punching bag every chance they get. And fucking Coach Nash, who is only too happy to reward them for it. Four weeks have passed, and Blackwood Academy has taken an honorable first place in the hit parade of lame schools in America. In Charlie Wright's huge list, this is no less a huge achievement.

Not a school, but a real trash heap. To match this godforsaken town.

During his two months in this hole called Amber Hill, he never saw the piece of paradise that his father constantly talked about. Father... He's been completely out of his mind lately, and there's no hope that it will get any easier. Furious and embittered at the whole world... The blows became stronger, the bruises go away slowly. And more and more reasons for which he takes out his anger on his only son. The last one was music lessons. Harriet Wright was convinced that music was a shameful "womanish" hobby, and punches in the gut would make a real man out of his son.

Until now, this made Charlie out to be the same brutal, sick idiot. Charlie didn't want to go home. Thoughts were swirling in his head about how he could sit in the trash heap for the rest of the week. Live at his pleasure for at least these three days. And there is no point in going to school tomorrow. Why if he has already decided everything?

Hearing footsteps, Charlie perked up and hid the cigarette in his fist. If this is the coach, then he will definitely call and tell his father everything. They've been damn friends since school, how lucky dad decided to return to his native land to live out the rest of his days. Looking back, he saw a tall guy a couple of feet away from him. He stood there and just looked at Charlie. Damn... He's not on the football team, is he?

"I'll share it with you if you'll stop staring at me like that," Charlie said and took another drag on the cigarette until it was gone.

"Keep it for yourself. But you'll have to share it with the coach if he sees you here," the guy answered. Charlie chuckled and sank to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. He could not stand for long after being beaten by his father. And Coach Nash wasn't too fond of him. Charlie skipped his last lesson. Were there any other options? Tell the truth, like, "Oh, I'm so sorry I missed class, my dad and I got into an argument over the piano, and then he hit me so hard I almost puked my insides out?" Ha-ha. It'll be a fucked up story.

The guy looked familiar. Charlie couldn't remember where he'd seen him before. Definitely not among football players, although he... is definitely similar to them. At least six feet tall, with broad shoulders and an athletic figure. His funny tousled light brown hair made him look confused. He stomped a little in one place and slowly turned to leave. Why did he even come?

Charlie asked quietly behind him.

"Aren't you going to tell anyone?"

"No... Do you think I look like a sneak?" the guy said in surprise, without stopping.

"Like a football player. They like to preach about healthy living and brainwash."

He froze in place. Charlie got back to his feet. He seems to have seen this guy in biology or English. On those rare days when Wright did come to school.