Copyright© [boyxboy]

Chapter 8

Luke's POV

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My blue eyes seemed more of a grey right now. Weird. I threw on a plain red shirt and some jeans before brushing my slightly curly hair. Memories of last night kept flooding into my line of thought, and that caused me to only get about an hour of sleep. "Why does he have such a strong grasp on me?" I mumbled to myself before I started brushing my teeth.
Today is the third day of school. Also known as the third day I've known Dylan. Wow... only three days? It seems like three months. With my female toys I've normally fucked them at least twice by the third day. And as for my male toys, they'd be scared shitless of me, not to mention they'd have many a bruise from me. So why not Dylan?
An image of the scarring scab that traced from the top of Dylan's chest to his bottom rib infiltrated my mind. I winced. I want to know what he meant when he said he wasn't the most liked... when he said bad neighbourhood.
And I still don't know if he admitted to being gay or not. Maybe he's bi? What am I thinking? Am I bi? Do I like him? No. That's absurd.
I jumped into my beauty of a truck and headed to school. The first two classes were a torturous three hours, but as soon as lunch ended I ran to the art room. I sat down in my seat and eagerly awaited my toys arrival. He walked in with that bright blonde haired kid, laughing. Smiling. They did the one arm hug thing before the kid who looks like Dylan turned and walked away. I stood up, my blood boiling. And not in a good way. I stormed over to Dylan and pulled him out of the classroom.
"What are you doing?!" He shrieked. I ignored him and let go of him when we were in the boys bathroom. "Hug? A hug? Really? And laughing. I can't make you laugh, but some random dude can?" I shouted.
"You're getting angry over nothing... Brandon is my friend. My only friend. My best friend."
Only friend? Ouch... "That's some shit. What the fuck are you thinking? You're lucky I don't punch the living shit out of you. I don't want to see you," the bell rang and he tried running for me, but I slammed him against the wall, "I don't want to see you hanging over some other dude. You're my fucking toy, not his."
His nostrils were flaring, and I could tell he was holding back tears. Then I looked where my arm was. I removed my arm from his chest and he slowly fell to the floor, bent over in pain. My anger left me and was replaced with guilt. He let out a big breath and winced as he did so. "Shit. Let me see it," I commanded as I bent down next to him. He kicked my leg and continued holding onto his chest. I ripped his arm from his chest and saw blood on his hand. I looked at his white shirt, and not to my surprise, there was a spreading line of blood from where the scab had been torn open. This was my fault. I ran into the stall and grabbed the entire roll of toilet paper. I went to lift up his shirt but he swatted my hand away. "Damnit, you fuck. Stop it," I growled angrily. He moved away and I pulled his shirt up. I placed a wad of TP on the deepest part of the gash before standing up and running a hand through my hair.
"We should just go back to my house. I have everything you'll need there," I told him as I leaned back down towards him. I applied pressure on a fresh wad of paper, receiving a painful hiss from the teary-eyed boy in front of me.
"No, just leave me alone," he whispered.
"Don't make me drag you outta here," I warned.
"I'm used to being left like this, I'll be fine," he made a high pitched squealing noise when he moved to sit on his bum, "go back to art."
I sat next to him, "I'm sorry, Dyl... I got angry for no reason, I shouldn't have done that. I forgot you had injuries on your chest."
"Did you just call me 'Dyl'?"
I chuckled, "Yes. So how about we ditch school and go back to my place?"
He shook his head.
"Mind telling me how the fuck you got these bruises and scars everywhere then?"
He shook his head again.
"It involved your old school. Was it a group of people, one person, who?"
He shook his head.
"That didn't answer a damn thing, kid." I put his shirt back down and picked him up in the way I've been doing to him a lot - bridal. We got to my truck and I sat him down as he remained silent.
No words spoken the entire ride to my house. Or the first half hour we were in my room.
"I need gauze, please," Dylan whisper-asked. I got up, ran downstairs and grabbed the first aid kit we have in our kitchen. when I got upstairs, Dylan was standing up, and removing his bloody shirt. He turned to me, and there was freshly dried blood stuck all over his chest. I opened the kit and handed him a roll of what he asked for. He wrapped it around himself, starting from right below his armpits down to his bottom rib. I handed him a second roll, and he re-wrapped himself. I walked up to him and he took a step backwards.
"I won't hurt you," I said.
"I don't trust you," he replied bitterly. Ouch.
"Please tell me what happened," I practically begged.
"No. It was almost healed though... by the looks of it, I would've only had the scab for about a month or two before it would've just turned into another scar. Not anymore." He looked down at his dark green skinnies.
He made me feel bad, "I'm sorry... I really am. I let my anger get the best I me, and I shouldn't have done that. Forgive me?" I pleaded.
"I heard you never ask for forgiveness. And that you never apologize."
"Yeah, I also don't kiss dudes, or give them fucking handjobs, but you have changed all of that."
"No."
"No what?"
"I won't forgive you."
"Why not??"
"You hurt me. I don't see how you're any different than them."
"Than whom?"
"Them."
"They are?"
He gestured to his entire body, "The ones that did this to me since I was 14."
My eyes widened, "THREE YEARS? THEY DID THIS TO YOU FOR THREE FUCKING YEARS?? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED DYLAN?"
"Just, things, okay? It started after I saw the only boyfriend I've ever had shove his tongue down someone's throat. Freshman year. And just because I'm at West Ridge now doesn't mean I won't still hurt. I mean, look what you've already done to me because of your temper," he said in a monotone voice.
My heart flipped and my facial expression grew soft again. He thought of me as a bully... And that saddened me.
I turned his face towards mine, an for the first time, I kissed someone softly. It was blissful, and calming. Just lips on lips, connecting, but not in a forceful way. My heart began to flutter, and Dylan put his arms around my shoulders and moved so he was sitting on my lap, facing me. He laid his forehead down on my shoulder, and within a minute, I felt liquid seeping through my shirt, followed by sniffles from Dylan.
"I'm sorry," he apologized.
"Why? You did nothing wrong."
"I didn't know hugging was off limits to friends even though I'm yours... and I made you angry. So I'm sorry."
"It's okay, I'm just... hotheaded a lot of people would say. I'm sorry I made you cry."
"It wasn't a group. It was the cheater of a boyfriend, his friends, and mostly random guys at school who'd see and attack me."
"What?"
"No particular group, just a bunch of different people."
"You're still not making a whole lot of sense... Explain more? What happened? Why you?"
Silence. Sniffle. More silence.
"Because I'm gay."