What Happened in Winter [boyxboy]

Chapter Nine

*[a/n: this chapter will be going into detail about self harm. Viewers discretion advised.]*

Greyson POV

He tossed his stormy grey cat-shaped backpack next to his desk and fell like a feather into his seat. He needed to rest. The nightmares just kept coming back last night, more and more gruesome, more and more tragic. He pushed himself to read Jayson's lips perfectly in the moment everything had been loud and silent at once, but he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried. His brother's mouth movements were completely foreign. While the Ivanov's were Russian, their parents were the only ones that spoke the language.

He felt a large, warm hand on his back and Grey slowly looked behind him, half expecting his brother's murderer to be there. But, his nerves were put to rest quickly as he recognized his best friend. His heart squeezed at the awkward memory of last night. Greyson knew he shouldn't have called Craft; that he should've just dealt with it alone like always, but he just wanted to affirm he wasn't alone. Craft had known Jay just as well as Greyson. He would be the only one that really understood.

"So, why did you lie?" A voice inside him wondered.

'I didn't lie,' Greyson barked back in his mind.

"Not exactly a lie. But, you didn't tell anyone the whole truth, now did you?" The voice laughed. Greyson chose not to answer.

"Grey," Craft said, shaking his friend slightly. "Grey, are you okay?"

"Mhm. I'm okay," Greyson said, but he wasn't even convincing himself. His voice went up a couple octaves on "okay." He buried his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut. 'Please stop embarrassing me. You should've just talked to me last night.' He thought.

"I need to go." Grey grabbed his backpack again and started heading out of the classroom.

Kyle POV

Kyle watched Greyson enter the room. He didn't look good. At all. His skin was so white and the skin under his eyes were purple, making his grey eyes even darker. His white hair was even wilder than usual, like a tuft of a cumulus cloud. 'I wonder if he slept last night,' Kyle pondered.

Greyson somehow made collapsing into his seat look graceful. Kyle watched as Craft reached his hand over and touched Greyson. Kyle winced, knowing that was the last thing you did to someone having a panic attack.

While Kyle was watching Greyson and Craft, River was watching Kyle. He made eye contact with Kyle, signaling to sit down and wait. Kyle hadn't even noticed he was on the edge of his seat, preparing to defend a boy he didn't even know.

Suddenly, Greyson shot out of his seat, grabbing his backpack off the floor. Kyle looked over to River for guidance. River rolled his eyes and mouthed, "GO!"

Kyle clambered from behind his desk and met Craft's confused expression. "I'll, uh, I'll be right back," Kyle said, not hesitating another moment and rushing out the class after Greyson.

——————————————————————

Greyson POV

'Stupid idiot! Why can't you just be normal?' Greyson screamed in his head. He was tearing at his hair now, hiding in the boy's restroom down the hall from the english lit room. He banged his forehead with the palm of his hand, stifling his cries with the other.

'Kill yourself! Kill yourself! Kill yourself!' Each time he screamed in his head, he slammed his hand into his skull. He hoped he left bruises.

He reached into his pocket and drew out the only real friend he had left. This friend hurt him in all the ways he felt he deserved and never failed him once.

"Just a little bit. We wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone," Greyson whispered to himself. He fluttered his eyes closed and dragged the silver blade across his right forearm. His breath hitched and his eyes flew open. He watched the blood slowly flow to the top of his fresh wound, sweat beading on his hairline.

"Oh, that's dreadful," Greyson giggled, practically salivating at the sight. "Disgusting and pitiful, you poor, little bastard. Nobody loves you and never will love you and you'll die alone like your deceitful brother." He slit his wrist again, this time deeper and more jagged. He cried out, tears pricking his eyes.

"G-Greyson?" A hesitant voice called from the entrance to the restroom.

'Shit, fuck, shit, fuck, shit, fuck!' Greyson shoved his razor back in his pocket, slicing a tiny hole in his light blue jeans next to the belt loop. He rolled his black turtle-neck sleeve down and grabbed his backpack. 'I'll just have to clean the wounds later.'

He stepped out of the stall and tried to brush past the person who had said his name. But, the other boy had something else in mind. His strong, creamy brown arm caught Greyson, forbidding him from leaving.

"Let me go," Grey whimpered. "Or are you here to beat me up? I know you've wanted to bully me for a while; I've seen you staring. But, my brother and my other bullies stood in the way. Now they're gone and it's just you."

Greyson pushed this mean-looking kid away and screamed, "GO AHEAD AND HIT ME! I'M BROKEN ANYWAY!"

Kyle POV

"Hey, no. No," Kyle grabbed the small boy in front of him again, holding him at arms length by his shoulders. "I'm not here to hit you I'm-I'm here to... help you."

Greyson had a deer-in-the-headlights look, his pale eyelashes like the wings of a dove in flight. "Help... me?"

Kyle nodded, letting Greyson go. The white-haired boy stumbled back a few feet, eventually sinking to his knees. He pressed his back against the mint green tile wall. He pointed at Kyle with a small, shaky finger.

"B-but you're a bully. I've seen you do it," Grey said, his voice shaking.

Kyle sighed. 'What in the ever loving fuck am I doing?' He thought. He composed himself and slid down next to Greyson.

"When I was a kid, my biological father trained me to be a killing machine. He taught me how to fight hand-to-hand, how to shoot a gun, how to wield a knife, how to dismember a body, you name it. When I was five, he told me to assassinate one of his business partners, one that was giving my father's... group a hard time. I didn't ask any questions. I simply did it," Kyle said, staring up at the sickly florescent lights flickering.

"Five? How could you kill someone at five?" Greyson asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

Kyle chuckled. "I was supposed to be the Mexican Mafia leader by the time I was twenty. I was supposed to surpass my father and be the ultimate ruthless leader. My father knew exactly what he was doing. He knew he didn't have much time left." His tone was bitter on that last line.

"I can't believe someone like that could do something so awful to their own child. I hope he's dead," Greyson said a bit more savagely than he intended. Both boys were stunned at what Greyson said.

"Uh... well he is. He died not too long ago, actually. It was lung cancer, old bastard," Kyle said chuckled at that last part.

Greyson's lips started to tremble, his vocal cords beginning to hum the beginning of an apology. Kyle impulsively rested a hand behind Greyson's neck, encouraging him to look him in the eyes. Kyle took great note of the different shades of grey in his eyes, slivers of silver and blue intermingled.

"Don't ever apologize for speaking your mind. More people should have that type of mindset. Nobody should ever do what my father did to me because he was training a pequeño cachorro into a sadistic monster. Disgusting, for sure. But, I have to grieve for a man that put food on the table and kept me away from my even-more-crazy mother. Stand up for what you believe in, kid," Kyle said.

"Will you be my friend?" Greyson asked with more confidence than Kyle had ever heard.

"Yes, Greyson. We can be friends," Kyle smiled genuinely, showing all his teeth.