A Bleacher Boy's Perspective (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 17

"Michael!" My dad bellows from downstairs, stirring me from my slumber.

I let out a groan into my pillow and snuggle deeper into my pile of blankets, basking in the warmth. It was the weekend. No morning runs. I was allowed to sleep in. So why was he calling for me? If it wasn't life or death, it wasn't worth disturbing me.

Half-asleep and less than fully-functioning, I decide it was just a figment of my imagination and settle back into sleep.

When my eyes open again the light from the window is flooding into the room, the curtains drawn to the side. I blink away the sleepiness from my eyes and stretch my arms over my head.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." A voice says cheekily, the mattress dipping at the foot of the bed. I jolt upright, a sudden rush adrenaline

I narrow my eyes in suspicion, tugging the covers closer to my chest. "You're not real." I tell him.

The corner of his lips quirks, amusement dancing in his green eyes. "Oh? Do you dream about me often? All good things I hope." He licks his lips. 

Someone. Kill. Me. Now.

"Why are you in my room? On my bed?" I screech and begin to pelt him with my pillow.

Derek falls to the floor, clutching his stomach in a fit of laughter, wheezing. Entertaining him more than anything, I give up. I hold the pillow above my head in a defensive stance that I hoped sent the message that I would peat him like a pinata if he tried anything. Anyone would have laughed at the ridiculous image of my small body, tired eyes, disheveled hair, and armed with nothing but a pillow.

When the shock finally begins to dissipate and my breath evens out, I toss the pillow on the pile of twisted sheets. For the first time, I take notice of my appearance. My attention dips down to my chest, bare and open for all to see. Heat rises in my cheeks. I rush past Derek who is still lying on the ground and I fling the dresser drawers open. I fish out the first shirt within reach and pull it over my head as quickly as humanly possible. I sigh, relieved to be covered and turn to face him again. When I do I'm shocked to see him, sitting on the floor with his hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

"Michael." He whispers past the cracks in his fingers, so faint I barely catch it. "There are bruises on your back."

My face drops. Bruises on my back? I walk to the mirror on the wall beside my dresser and lift my shirt. Twisting my neck so I look at my back in the mirror I see my pale skin decorated with an array of huge deep purple and blue blobs. Unlike the bruise left from when my dad had patted my back, I had no idea where these came from. I hesitantly poke at one of the blobs, but am surprised when it doesn't hurt as bad as it looks.

"I don't understand." Derek speaks. I had almost forgotten he was there.

"I don't know where those came from." I rush to reassure him even though I know my words would fall on deaf ears. He had already made up his mind that I was lying and that someone was hurting me. And someone was hurting me bad, strategically, where no one could see if they didn't know where to look. 

The Derek from just moments ago, the one that seemed shaken and scared had vanished. His hands gently grip my upper arms, tethering me there. "Who is hurting you?" His green eyes stare back at me pleadingly. 

I stare at him blankly. My mind reels for an explanation for the bruises that seemed to have appeared out of thin air. I've had bruises before that I couldn't explain or didn't even realize were there before. But this was completely different. These were too big to be just any random bruise. I don't know what to say. I don't know what's happening to me. From Derek suddenly appearing in my room to the mysterious bruises I feel like I'm on the verge of going insane. It was too early for any of this. I just want to crawl into my bed sheets and stay there forever.