Beneath the polaroid [BXB]

BENEATH THE POLAROID - 25 | What scares him the most

JAMES BARELY MAKES IT through the day. His body aches, every step a reminder of the beating he'd taken. His ribs throb with each breath, and the sting from the fresh bruises pulses with an angry heat. As the sun sets and he drags himself up to his room, the weight of everything presses down on him like a suffocating fog. His bed creaks beneath him as he collapses onto it, burying his face into his pillow, half to muffle the groan of pain and half to drown out the noise of the world. He feels a strange emptiness clawing at his chest, not quite sorrow but something deeper, more hollow.

He closes his eyes, letting the exhaustion of the day pull him under, but as his mind drifts, the darkness twists, and suddenly he's no longer in his room.

In the dream, the air smells different—sweeter, fresher, with a warmth that isn't weighed down by the bitterness of reality. James finds himself standing in an open field, the golden sun casting long shadows across the grass. The world feels peaceful, soft in a way it never does when he's awake. He looks down at himself. No bruises. No pain. His body feels light, untethered by the violence of the day. His chest rises and falls steadily, free of that sharp ache he'd come to accept.

Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he turns and sees William. The sight of him makes James' heart stutter. He's not surrounded by his jock friends, not sneering or indifferent. Instead, William's alone, sitting on the edge of a wooden fence that borders the field. His dirty blonde hair is tousled, catching the light in such a way that makes it glow, and his mismatched eyes—one green, one silver—are softened, free of the usual cruelty or indifference that James has come to expect.

James steps closer, almost in a daze. There's no fear here, no tension. The distance between them feels like it could close with a single breath. For once, the space between them doesn't feel insurmountable.

William looks up, and their eyes meet. It's not the cold, cutting gaze that James has grown used to. This time, there's warmth in those eyes, something so tender it makes James' chest ache in a different way—a good way. James takes another step forward, feeling the ground steady beneath him. The fear of being seen, of being known, it's gone. In this dream world, there's no need for secrets, no need to hide.

"Hey," William says softly, his voice low and intimate, as if the rest of the world has vanished and it's just the two of them now. There's no mockery, no disdain.

James feels his lips twitch into a smile. He's afraid to speak, afraid that the moment he does, this fragile dream will shatter, but William is still looking at him, waiting.

"Hey," James finally says, the word coming out softer than he intended.

William jumps down from the fence, his movements smooth, graceful even. He walks toward James, and with each step, James' pulse quickens. Not with fear this time, but with something else, something deeper. When William finally reaches him, they're standing so close that James can feel the heat of his body.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. It's like all the unspoken things between them—the tension, the desire, the fear—it all dissolves, leaving only this. James swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows this can't be real, that this is just a dream, but in this moment, it feels so real that it hurts.

"You don't have to hide," William says, his voice barely above a whisper, but it's enough to make James' breath catch.

James opens his mouth to say something, anything, but he doesn't have the words. He's spent so long hiding, so long trying to suppress the way he feels that now, standing here in front of William like this, he doesn't know how to respond.

Before he can even think, William reaches out and gently takes his hand. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down James' spine. It's the kind of touch that's tender, affectionate—something James has never felt from anyone, least of all William.

James closes his eyes, allowing himself to be in this moment, to feel it fully. This is what he's wanted, what he's always imagined—William, without fear, without the hate, without the cruelty. Just the two of them, together, without the weight of the world pressing down on them.

But even as he lets himself sink into the dream, a part of him knows it's too good to be true. A shadow creeps in at the edges of his mind, whispering doubts. He's not safe here. He'll never be safe with William. He knows that deep down, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

When he opens his eyes again, the softness in William's expression is fading, replaced by something harder, more familiar. His hand slips away from James', and the warmth disappears, leaving behind a chilling emptiness.

"You really thought it could be like this?" William's voice is cold now, and James' heart plummets.

"No, I—" James stammers, but the words catch in his throat. He can feel the dream shifting, warping into something darker.

William's eyes, once kind, now glint with cruelty. "You're pathetic," he sneers, the venom in his voice cutting deeper than any punch James had ever taken. "You really thought someone like me could ever want you?"

The field around them fades into shadows, and James feels his stomach drop. The warmth, the peace—it's all gone, replaced by the cold, harsh reality that's always been there, lurking just beneath the surface.

"No!" James shouts, but it's too late. William turns his back on him, walking away, leaving James standing there, alone, his heart shattered.

The world around him dissolves into blackness, and James is left standing in the void, the weight of his loneliness pressing down on him like a lead blanket.

When he wakes up, he's still in his bed, his sheets tangled around him, his heart racing. The dream lingers in his mind, vivid and sharp, like a knife twisting in his gut. He sits up, his body drenched in sweat, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like a second skin.

He wants to cry, to scream, to do anything to release the tight knot of emotions building inside him, but he can't. He's trapped in his own mind, suffocating under the weight of his own desire, his own longing for something he knows he can never have.

Reality, cold and unforgiving, crashes down on him. William will never look at him like that, not in the real world. In the real world, William is cruel, indifferent, hateful. In the real world, James is nothing but a freak, a pervert, an outcast.

He runs a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake the lingering echoes of the dream. It was foolish to ever think he could have something different, something more. William isn't his salvation. He's just another tormentor.

And yet, despite it all, despite the cruelty, despite the pain, James still wants him. His stomach turns with the realization, a sick, twisted knot of desire and self-loathing. No matter what William does, no matter how much he hurts him, James can't stop wanting him.

And that's what scares him the most.