What Happened in Winter [boyxboy]

Chapter Two

Craft POV

Unsurprisingly, the new boy was assigned to the empty seat next to Craft. There were no more desks to be filled, but Craft couldn't help wondering why it had to be the seat Jayson claimed every year in english before now. Now that he was gone, the seat would go unused for the next year. That is, before this razor blade of a boy showed up.

When the black haired boy sat down, Craft lifted his arm to shake his hand and introduce himself, but the other boy flinched away, a flash of fear ignited in his impossibly blue eyes. Craft had never witnessed someone express fear towards him. He had worked so hard to be like Jayson and followed his lead in everything that Craft had never thought to physically harm anyone.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Craft withdrew his hand, his face hot. "I'm Craft Johnson. I'm a senior. And that's Greyson. He's a junior and he spends most of his time sleeping in class since he doesn't sleep at night." Craft gestured to Grey who was still sleeping, the off-handed remark falling on deaf ears.

The sharp boy's eyes darted to Greyson, the back to Craft. He sat down in his chair and finally mumbled, "River. Junior." He put a white earbud in, his thumb hovering over the play button on his phone. Craft looked down at River's screen, curious as to what he could be listening to. It was a band, guessing by the three elaborate words in the artist slot.

"Maybe your friend doesn't sleep at night for a reason. You should talk to him. You never know what could be going on in his life. Maybe you should be a better friend," River flicked his cold eyes up to Craft's stunned face. River smirked to himself, shrugging his shoulders, "Just a thought. Don't mind me." He tapped the play button.

Greyson POV

He opened his eyes blearily and noticed he was completely alone. He was in his classroom when he had fallen asleep... right? Right? Greyson shook his head. He was having such a hard time remembering anything anymore. 'I-it's okay. Just get a grip,' he thought to himself.

He recognized this place. It was a classroom, but not the english literature class he thought he had fallen asleep in. This classroom looked to be apart of the same school, though, judging by the same old, yellowing walls. The homework for the day had been lazily scrawled on the whiteboard in black ink. Below the assignment, something was written in small, blood red letters. Greyson's vision blurred and he stood up, shaking his head again, his hair slapping his cheeks. He walked cautiously over to the board, his hands drawn up to his trembling chest.

4:00. Bus loading zone. Come alone. You know who & why.

Static flashed across Greyson's vision, his brain and body practically vibrating from a deep primal fear. He was a lamb and he was being singled out by wolves again. They had been toying with him for weeks, writing notes to him, telling him to meet them behind the school at the bus loading zone. The first time Grey had shown up, one of them held his breakable arms behind his back, the other smashing a violent fist against his face. They laughed as blood gushed from Greyson's nose like a faucet. Greyson yelped as the boy holding him swept his feet from under him. He grazed his exposed knee on the concrete and dirt ground into his white shorts.

"God, look at him cry! He's so pathetic! At least his legs are pretty like a girl's," The one who punched him laughed.

The boy behind Greyson grabbed a fistful of Greyson's red and white hair. The boy in front of him brought his fist back. "Light's out," he sneered in a sing-song tone and Greyson's world had gone black.

Greyson staggered back from the board, his fingers tugging at his hair as if trying to strip the memory of all that blood. He backed into a desk and slumped to the floor. He dug feverishly in his pants pockets, trying in vain to find any sharp object he could. Tears soon flowed down his cheeks when he realized his search would turn up fruitless. He never left his razors at home. Never, never, never, never. He always found a reason to bring them to school. Always, always, always, always.

There was only one thing left to do, but Greyson's heart hammered his ribs like a xylophone, playing his death march. He gathered himself onto skinny, shaky legs and made his way to the bus.

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"So he did show up today. I was starting to think our little lamb would never show up for playtime again," one of the boys said. It was the one that liked to punch him in the face.

'Man up, Greyson! Just say it!' Greyson pleaded with himself. He trudged over to the two bullies and pinched his arms. 'Say it!'

"What? Does Lil Bo Peep have something to say? Go on! Spit it out!" The bully that usually restrained him said, pushing Greyson with both hands. With a small "oof!" Greyson fell to the ground. Greyson's head was spinning like a top, but the most violent of the boys was already squatting in front of him, a hand squeezing Greyson's skull by his temples.

"Stop! Stop it! What did I ever do to you to deserve this?! Please, if I did something wrong, tell me so I can I can fix it! But, just stop it!"

There was a deathly silence that fell over the three boys. Greyson started sobbing, realizing what he had just done. He should've just kept his mouth shut and went with it like he always did. He should've-

"Huh. You can talk. See, we were convinced that your older brother was the only one that could talk. But, now we know you can talk so... we need to make it clear that if you snitch, you're dead." The boy in front of Greyson looked positively murderous. He pulled out a sleek black object from his khaki pants.

"You know what this is?" When Greyson didn't respond, the boy in front of him threw the object out at his side, a swift click was heard, and he lifted the object back up. It had doubled in size and it was obvious now what it was. Greyson felt his insides turn to slush and his heart started fluttering.

"P-please don't kill m-me. I don't... I don't want to die yet," Greyson whimpered softly. The other boy smiled maniacally, switch blade pressing into Greyson's forearm "Oh, I don't want to kill you. I just want to hurt you. Real bad."