The Prettiest Boy

Part 1

(WARNING: If you have not read the description, it would probably be best to do that first. Also, there will be a little self harm in the very beginning. I made sure to separate that off with two sets of 10 bold little stars. ********** <--- If you see this, that means it's the self harm part. I did that at the beginning and end of it, so if you want to skip it, you'll see right away where to start off with the rest of the story. It's only about four small paragraphs and a little bit of dialogue, and I did not go into deep, direct detail of it, but I know it can still be triggering to some people.)

"Let's break up." said Jenny, who sat on the bench next to her now ex-boyfriend, Victor.

Victor was staring at the ground, a pitiful expression on his face. He knew it would come to this. It always did.

"Really? Could you tell me why?" he asked quietly, already knowing that answer.

"I'm sorry, you know why. I tried, Vic, I really did. It's just- you're not like any of the other guys I've dated, at all. I can't be with a guy who doesn't even act like one." Victor stayed silent. He knew if he were to say something, he would start crying. "You're a real nice guy, but you're just weird, don't worry, though, I won't tell anyone about your secrets. I hope you understand my perspective." There was only a slight nod from Victor. Jenny let out a small sigh as she stood up. "I'm going home. Thank you for taking me out."

**********

And with that, Jenny left. Victor had barely moved from the spot he sat at. After a while of having a blank mind, he decided to go home. He dragged his feet along the sidewalk. There wasn't any rush, as his energy had been completely depleted. Victor felt empty, alone. When he got home, he was greeted with silence. This was how it always was. Once he was in his room, the door locked and lights off, he let out a muffled cry in his pillow. His crying seemed endless. He cried until he could no more. That was when he stood and made his way to the bathroom.

There held something that took away the pain for a moment. Just turning on the lights, it shined. It was such a small-and yet-powerful tool. Victor walked up to the sink and picked up the item, holding it in between his thumb and index finger. It was a little dull, but he knew it would get he job done.

"This is what I deserve, isn't it? What good am I? A freak like me, who would care?"

He bit his lip, almost to the point of drawing blood. His pain and grief were overwhelming. There was a tight feeling in his chest that was worse than anything he felt. Rolling up his hoodie, Victor pressed the item against his wrist. He stared at the many other scars, remembering all the times he had been a fool. Though, he knew emotional pain was far worse than physical. Physical was not permanent. Keeping this in mind, he slowly ran it down his arm. He would be lying if he thought of it to not be painful. Truth be told; it hurt, but not as much as the emotions. When finished, he dropped the tool into the sink, gasping out loud as he clutched a hand onto the fresh wounds.

"Of course I couldn't go deeper. I can't even do this right." he coughed out with a hoarse voice.

Victor wanted to go away, to be away from the pain, but he was afraid to leave. He knew it was pathetic, but he could never bring himself to go all the way. He hated himself for that. After cleaning up the mess and bandaging his arm of the two 3-inch long marks, he went back to his bed and slept. Victor slept, without eating, for the next three days until it was Monday and he had to go to school.

**********

In a way, he was glad to be a senior. Being a senior meant ten more months left of school, and then you would be free to do with life as you pleased. Sadly, ten months was still a long time, and the school year had only begun. Lucky for Victor, he had established friends around middle school, so he did not have much to complain about; other than the fact that his friends were severely homophobic and made fun of any guy who so much as talked in a feminine voice.