What Happened in Winter [boyxboy]

Chapter One

Craft POV

Craft pulled the door to his first period class open with a little more force than was necessary, almost knocking himself in the head. He recovered and immediately recognized his best friend, Greyson, sitting in the seat in front of Craft's. His designated spot. Greyson had his head laid on his desk, unruly white hair splayed across the surface. 'Still not sleeping at night, huh?' Craft thought somberly to himself. He softly shook Greyson's arm, waking him up from what seemed to be a deep, dreamless sleep. 

"Hm?" Greyson peeked up, half-lidded at Craft, not exactly remembering where he was. "You're in english lit, Grey," Craft said, unable to completely conceal his concern, "Looks like you fell asleep again."

"Ah...," Greyson intoned wistfully. "I don't remember when I fell asleep..." His eyes started to close again and Craft gave up on trying to rouse him. Greyson didn't sleep at night anymore. Craft asked Greyson six months ago why he looked so sick all the time over a bowl of soup at Lady's Diner in the downtown district of their city.

"Haven't I always looked like this? I've always been sick. Since I was a baby, you know that," Grey said in that same far-away tone. Greyson always seemed like he was somewhere else. What was going on up there in his head? Would he ever go back to how he was before the... tragedy that spun both their lives out of control?

"No, you haven't looked like this before... before Jay died," Craft said cautiously, watching his best friend's face pull tight against his skull and his knuckles turn white from death-gripping his spoon. 

"Jayson didn't just die,"  Greyson's voice was low and shaky, on the verge of losing his mind in the middle of the quiet restaurant. "He was murdered, Craft. Because of me. My cowardice got my brother murdered." 

'I've really done it now. Going and bringing up Jayson's death like that. Stupid fucking idiot,' Craft thought as Greyson started tugging at his unkempt, cloud-like hair. He tended to do that when he was in a situation he didn't want to be in. Grey was always quick to punish himself for other people's mistakes and issues; he tended to believe that if the world fell apart, it would be because of him. 

After that day, Craft never brought up Jayson with Grey again. 

"I'll copy your notes for you. Just try not to get caught by Stevens. He hates when anyone sleeps in class," Craft said to Grey's already fast-asleep form. 'Not like he's going to say anything to you. Or anyone. They know the circumstances,' Craft said to himself as an afterthought. He sat in his seat behind Greyson, his gaze unintentionally drifted to the empty seat next to him. Craft pictured Jayson sitting there, all smiles and jokes and curly brown hair. His infectious, sunny personality could break the coldest of people into a fit of belly laughs. Craft had always wanted to be like Jay and Jay made Greyson more comfortable in public. Jayson had been their rock. And now he was gone. 

"Alright, gremlins, settle down," Mr. Stevens said dryly, slamming the classroom door behind him. Craft lifted his eyes up and his breath caught in his throat. 

'Who... Who is that?' Craft thought. His eyes weren't on his eccentric english teacher. They were on the boy next to him. Hair like raven feathers, full lips pushed into a vacant scowl, creamy white skin, and his eyes were like two glacial pools with something big, dark, and dangerous looming beneath the surface. Something moved inside of Craft and he believed it was his heart. He hadn't felt that movement since Jayson.

River POV

River and his step-father pulled up to Cedar Pointe High School at 8:25 am, ten minutes before River's first class started. That was the only good thing about his step-father; he would get you there on time. 

"Try not to fuck this one up, too, son. Or I will put you six feet under. Do you understand me?" River's step-father's eyes looked like shit-brown marbles about to pop out of the sockets.

River swallowed drily, his throat making a click with the lack of saliva. "Yes," he responded, looking away.

"What did you just say? No, look at me! Tell me what the fuck you just said." His step-father gritted his teeth. "Tell me before I kill you." River knew he wouldn't really kill him, but it was too hot in the car and too loud. River didn't mind if his step-father hit him or even killed him, but he needed to stay alive for his mother and five-year-old sister. He couldn't expect his mom to get out alive with little Willow. Because as much as he loved to hit River, his first choice would always be River's mother. But, their fights were always behind closed doors when no one could disturb his step-father. Every chance River got, he protected his mom, intentionally antagonizing his step-father to beat him. 

River quieted his rising bitterness and met his step-father's swine eyes. "Yes, sir," he corrected himself. Before anything else could be said, River grabbed his backpack and slinked out the car. __________________________________________

Inside, River conveniently ran into his first period teacher, Mr. Stevans. He was a handsome man, River observed. He had shiny, long brunette hair thrown into a messy bun, a hipster kind of style with lots of brown and green, and a handlebar mustache. 

"So, what school did you go to before this one?" Stevans asked casually. 

"Uh, St. Calvin Catholic. I've... been there until now," River said awkwardly. He wasn't a huge fan of men. In fact, you could say he had a phobia of men. His breath was staggering, each inhale coming quicker and quicker, his exhales becoming few and far between.

Before River could make the final decision to run, Stevans opened a classroom door on the left side of the hallway they were in. The class was quiet already and were staring directly at him. They were staring at him like an animal in a cage, his vision started to turn to static and all he could hear was white noise. He wanted to scream, wanted to run, wanted to kill all the fuckers in this class. 

But, he couldn't. Because he was better than that. They hadn't done anything yet. If they did mess with him, though, he would teach them why River Tollis didn't have bullies anymore. And if they were lucky, learn why River got kicked out of his last school.

River swept his steady gaze across the crowd of teenagers in front of him. The first person he noticed was probably the person that didn't want to be noticed. His head was on his desk, wild hair splayed like white tendrils around him. He looked... damaged. Like a defective ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode at any moment. 

The next boy River noticed was brilliant. He was almost too bright to look at. But, there was something so familiar about him that River wanted to slap him. There were only three people in his life that were familiar and none of them were here. What could this possibly mean? And why did his heart stir?