city of achilles {bxb}

chapter 8

Friday

My back is straight and my head is up as I walk into school. It's my first time feeling like this since first grade. I have my marker in the pocket of my cargo pants. The thought that nobody knows what I did but the thought that some of them will probably see is empowering in a way I can't describe. If it's wrong, then why does it feel so right?

I have my hair tied back today because I've discovered what makeup can do. I look like I've never had a patch on my face. The bruise, however, was much harder to conceal than I thought, and maybe someone will notice that. Whatever. They can notice. Nobody's gonna ask. Not even Leon- maybe he's nosy but I think he's more polite than that.

Today in art is our last period in class to work on our paintings and I can't take mine home, so I have to manage my time wisely. It's nearly done, so most of my work is tweaking. The red and the blue mix in the middle to create a passionate, deep purple. It's a bit too dark, so I add highlight to everything. The boys absolutely fucking sparkle and I get butterflies in my stomach just looking at them. This is beautiful. I think this is the best painting I've ever made. I stand up and move back to see where it doesn't look perfect from afar since people are just gonna be seeing this in the hallway. My hands and hoodie sleeves are covered in paint and I forget this when I go to scratch my face. Oh well- staple of being an artist.

Mr. Fly walks up next to me. "That's beautiful. Really accentuate those highlights, though- don't wanna make something like this dull."

"I agree." I say, going back up to the painting to add some more white, but I feel a sense of emptiness when looking at their faces. "But something is missing. I can't tell what they're feeling. Can you tell what they're feeling?"

"Hmm..." He comes a bit closer. "Well, there's definitely attraction."

"That's bullshit." I mumble. "They're supposed to be in love."

"Right...there's supposed to be that emotional longing. And how do you think you're gonna portray that?"

"Well, I've felt it." I say, then shake my head. I'm not supposed to remember that, but I do. I remember being in that moment. I remember standing at the bus stop in the rain, feeling him walk up next to me. Not seeing him, but knowing it was him, and saying this:

"Jack..." I choke out. I sniffle and look down. "They found out."

"They- what?" Jackson sounds vulnerable. I've seen him in dark places, but he's never sounded so...weak. Beaten down. Defeated. "Marco...hey. No." He takes my hand, making me face him.

I immediately break down. I bring a hand up to my face in attempts of wiping away the tears, but it's no use. "They got it out of me. They get into my head."

Jack shakes his head. "No, no, baby, they don't have to. You can't let them do that to you. They don't fucking matter."

"No. They do. And they're right. I'm fucking broken."

"You're not broken. We're not broken." Jack consoles me. He cups my face and tilts my head up. "Hey. It's gonna be okay. I'm here for you." His voice is shaky and I see a couple tears escape his eyes. I know that he's just as worried as I am, because he knows what I'm about to tell him.

He pulls me into a kiss and I let myself get lost in this feeling one last time. Our bodies close together. His hands on my skin. His taste. Just...him.

Geraldine's voice sneaks into my head. "He doesn't love you. He will never love you. Two men can never love each other." It resonates and creates a loud, jarring echo that causes me to pull away. My lips feel cold. I feel the colour drain from my face.