Make Me (MxM)

10 Years Ago

/Please take notice, that in all of the "10 years ago" chapters, I'll be writing in third-person. Look out for that to avoid confusion. /

School nursing rooms aren't exactly the cosiest places of all, and kids know that. All the bright white, the scent of chemicals and cleaning products, and of course, the very reason that you can get in there is just unnerving for most children, and so they hope to avoid it whenever they can. 

There were exceptions, of course, or rather only one. 

"I like your company, you know, but I'd be really happy if you'd come here less often"  the middle-aged women scolded the entering boy with a soft smile. Despite his obvious distress, and wounded state, the kid forced a cheeky grin on himself, and straightened up obviously fighting some pain that had come with the movement.

"You'd miss me" he replied, his voice small but hearable. He slowly limped to the bed and sat upon it. Having done this so many times, he was already very aware of the routine. 

The woman just followed the boy with her gaze, hiding her pity and empathy that the sight awakened withing her, especially because the kid was easy to anger, and she didn't really want to make him upset. 

"You should speak to your headmaster about these boys being mean to you" she suggested while walking up to the wounded, and beginning to clean the small cuts and wounds, along with the dust from his bruised arm. 

"Harvis? He wouldn't care"

"Mr Flecher, you mean?" she corrected with a smile, which the boy quickly mirrored. He didn't really like his teachers, and usually called them informally, just to annoy them. 

"Anyway, you don't have to worry, I've won... There were just too much of them so I got a few scratches too"  the boy lied without a flinch or shame, even though it was painfully obvious, that he didn't and wouldn't win. 

He was thin, and underfed, quite short for his age as well. His dark brown hair could only remind one of a lost stray-dog, and no signs of muscles or fighting skills for that matter were to be found in him (which isn't surprising for a ten-year-old). 

"I see. Well even if you wouldn't have won, I'd be proud of you for standing it so well, Seth"  

Penny never called him out on his obvious lies. She just didn't have the heart, especially after seeing that spark of joy and pride in the small boy's eyes, whenever she complimented him. She could tell, he didn't get much praise at home, but that was something almost the whole school knew... Seth was, unfortunately, only the "other Wilson boy", in most everyone's eyes. The more troubled one, the less smart one. The one that should've just "been more like his brother". 

"I could call your parents... tell them what's going on in here"  she suggested, searching for the boy's gaze. Would've probably been quite a beautiful sight, without all the scars, bruises and with a little more food in his system.

Seth's greenish eyes filled with terror in a second and shook his head numerous times, before swallowing his fear enough to speak. 

"I'm fine, there is no need." 

"Yeah but-" 

"Please don't call them, Penny" he cut her off, his huge eyes now widening even more. He hated asking people for stuff... he hated saying please, but it slipped out easily when it came to his parents. 

It's not even about the beating... He just didn't want to see his mother's disappointed gaze again, and again. He didn't want to hear about how Mark brought a 98% test home again... He was fine anyway... He was fine.