Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Starr [boyxboy]

Prologue

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Starr [boyxboy] by DocMartensAndCoffee

Copyright (c): All Rights Reserved.

This is my work blah blah hurt anyone who steals it blah blah blah cheers.

Contains themes of homosexuality, bullying, abuse and depression. Also strong sexual themes and innuendo. If you don't like it don't read it. Simples.

•••••••••

Starr Forrester.

The boy with a girl's name. The 'Emo' without much to say and not many friends. The guy in all the top classes who sat at the back, away from the cruel eyes of bullies. The boy who had a smile and a kind word for even the meanest of people. The boy with the scars.

That's how I was known throughout the school. "The boy with..." "The boy who...". Everyone knew my name. 'Starr' isn't exactly easy to forget, is it? Especially with the unnessecary double 'r' at the end. But people didn't like to use it. It was like some kind of taboo. Like He Must Not Be Named or Batman's secret identity. I don't know why. Maybe it was because they couldn't help the curl of their lip or the snigger in the back of their throats when they said it, and they wanted to seem kind. 

Of course, there were those who were unkind. They used my name alright - and any variation on it they thought would get to me. "Starr." "Sparkles." "Starry Night." "Bedtime Boy." They got imaginitive, put it that way. Oh, I know it was childish, letting stuff like that get to me. But I couldn't help it. Their words wormed their way under my skin and stabbed me like tiny knives. And, unfortunately for me those people were very much in the majority. 

Even the few who were kind enough to me tended to give me a wide berth. I didn't get it when I was younger. I thought I maybe smelled bad and took about twelve baths a day. People still avoided me. Bad breath became an option too me, and I brushed my teeth until my gums bled. Still no results. 

I was eleven when I realised it was the scars that scared people off. I didn't work it out for myself. I found out on parents evening, my first one of the Secondary School. I was supposed to sit on a bench outside the classroom while Jen went in and talked to my teacher, but when I tried the others all moved right up to the other end. Instead, I stood with my ear pressed to the door. 

"I just don't think Starr is making many friends, that's all," Jen had said, sounding desperate. 

"Look, Mrs Forrester, I understand your concerns completely," the teacher had said. "And obviously we know how traumatic a past Starr has had. But what you and we must all understand is that the kids don't - they're not mature enough to understand." 

"What are you incinuating?" Jen sounded mad, then. She very rarely got mad and was a force to be reckoned with when she did. 

"Nothing negative about Starr, of course,"  she said. "He's a lovely boy, charming, well-motivated and incredibly bright. But... the scars might frighten the other children a little, that's all." 

"What?!" I heard Jen get up, the scrape of her chair as she pushed it back and the clatter as it hit the floor. "You mean to tell me you're letting the little shits get away with picking on my boy because of the way he looks? You think he asked to be given those scars?" 

"Mrs Forrester, I'm going to have to ask you to restrain yourself, or I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the teacher and said, firmly. Jen didn't say another word. Just left the room, took me to the car and drove me home. I slept in her bed that night, and Sam slept in mine. 

That's how I found out it was the scars. 

People avoided me all the time. Nobody was genuinely interested in me. 

Until Vinnie.