A Picture Can Speak a Thousand Words (Peterick)

Peter

Fuck this school. Fuck this timetable. No, scratch that, fuck my life.

I'd only just got used to the old art classroom layout, I knew where everything was stored in the room,even some of the people. The people who hated me but acknowledged my existance, which was rare.

Why rare, you ask?

I'm gay.

Yeah, don't go on about the fact that 'I'm a sin' and 'there's still a change for me to see the light'. No. I'm happy with who I am, even if it involes being hated by my whole school and not to mention half of my own family.

I sigh as I check my timetable briskly before shuffling my way down to my next lesson. Art. Teachers that were meant to care about their students' wellbeing and education had lost all traces of my timetable again and had "accidently" put me in a different art class. I adjusted my prized black and white checkered fedora before stepping into the room, plastering a fake smile on my face for Mr Way, the art teacher, and my favourite teacher.

"Patrick! Why do you happen to be in here, buddy?" Mr Way greets me with open arms. I hear murmurs of 'fag' and snorts from the back of the room but ignore it, as usual.

"My timetable," I roll my eyes dramatically. "Got lost again. Been switched to this room for some reason."

"In that case, make yourself at home!" Mr Way ushers me to the only empty seat at the back of the room next to a dark haired boy with olive skin and a generous smile. I set down my things at my desk and prepare myself for the next two hours of art. I turn to pull out my seat to sit on but, to my surprise, it's already out and waiting for me. I touch at the brim of my fedora in confusement before the boy sitting to the left of the desk whispers a giggle-filled "you're welcome," and grins at me. I gape at him in shock before realising how stupid I must look and sit myself down on the seat.

"Okay guys, as we've had a student dropped randomly into our room," whispers of 'homo boy' and 'weirdo'. "We're going to have to go over the basic parts of this subject. Anyone care to enlighten Patrick on what we're studying at the moment?" Mr Way shouts from the front of the room, stepping back and forth nervously yet confidently. Silence. Not one raised hand. "Yes, Peter, please explain." I turn to my left and stare wide eyed at the boy again. Mmm... Peter. The name rings at the back of my mind, sends a shiver down my spine.

"Well, Patrick, we're studying anime and comics and how they played a part in the world of art and stuff". Peter stares at me whole time he talks, as I stare at him. He's smirking as he talks, as if he knows he's entracing me in this littlr wrath of his. I feel the heat rush to my face as I duck my head and turn back to the front, smiling wryly at Mr Way's questioning face eager to know if I understood or not.

"Okay, so that's it basically! Today we're going to be looking into a type of comic called 'manga'. It's quite interesting, really," Mr Way chunters on, all the time I'm being looked at by the smiling boy to my left. After a few moments of putting up with it, I become infuriated and slam my hands on the desk, turning to stare coldly into his eyes.

"What?! What is it about me? You want to laugh already and tag me with some stupid nickname like the rest of them?" I hiss, spitting out the words. Yet his grin doesn't waver, infact he grins wider.

"Just thought you looked cute, man"