A/N : First oneshot of the year? Yep. & it's pretty dark & fluffy(?) I guess. Sigh. Leave a review, fave & follow my account if you happen to enjoy this! It was written in a few minutes while my brain was being a depressed little shit. I hope you understand. Read on! :D
To everyone else, he's funny, outgoing, silly and, in a way, really intellectual. He'll always lend a helping hand, even if he jokes about the extra effort he puts in just to talk to you. You'll sometimes catch him cheekily smiling at his desk as he works on the piece of paper your lecturer handed to you and the others because he finishes it within record timing with no difficulty, whatsoever.
He's never short on humour, neither is he lacking in energy. You'll catch him giggling with his friends over things as minor as the fact that their clothes match, or as major as having screwed up during a presentation. He's weird; he finds embarrassing situations hilarious, and he makes sure to leave the shame behind with a smile as bright as the Sun's rays.
Maybe that's why I've always been attracted to him. Maybe, it's the fact that his smile is contagious, even though some have been mean to him and told him off about his big nose or his bushy eyebrows. However, it doesn't seem like he cares.
He'll flash them the hugest grin anyone could muster and politely tell them goodbye before walking off to his next class with his friends, who were glaring daggers at the bunch of bullies and rambling about how he's good-looking as he is, that he shouldn't listen to the morons' insults.
He never does react to the negativity that he faces on a week-to-week basis. He just beams at the problem and finds a logical way to solve it, like how you would attempt a Maths equation. To find him slumped in a corner, whimpering in fear, sobbing his heart out; that's impossible.
His mask is as thick as cement, and no one- absolutely no one- has been able to see through it. Except me.
I couldn't put to words before the stabbing pain I felt when he'd flinch away from my touch, or when he hyperventilates the second I look at him and has a full out panic attack when I'm next to him. In the beginning, I found it adorable how he couldn't control his emotions in my presence.
I didn't expect I'd fall for him as well.
The pain multiplied on the day I overheard a conversation between him and one of his best friends, when I pushed myself forward and sat next to him. An hour into the class, he asked to be excused, his friend calling out to mine to give him way as he walked behind us to reach the door.
He was as pale as Caspar, the friendly ghost.
He came back to class half an hour later, sighing as he flopped down on his seat. Without even sparing a glance to our teacher, who had begun explaining certain programming concepts, he rested his head on the desk, face away from me.
I didn't suspect anything until I heard, "Have you vomited? Are you going to be okay?"
I froze and sneaked a glance as his slumped body, taking notice on how his breathing seems harsh and how he was gulping for air like there wasn't a sufficient amount of oxygen in the classroom. His head jerked slightly to a nod before he whispered, almost out of breath, "I'm fine. I just panicked because of… You know."
His friend's eyes shot straight to me and I turned away, a light blush on my cheeks from having been caught eavesdropping. Thankfully, she didn't question any of us further and class ended. He got himself together and left the room quickly, stating the reason behind his hasty escape as hunger.
Few days later, on a Friday, in our last lesson, I noticed his hunched figure in front of me, seeing as I've chosen the seat right behind him. The girl next him had been cautiously patting his back, soothingly telling him to cheer up.
The second class ended, they left. I was thankful I caught a glimpse of him before he got on his train, silently waiting for him with a cigarette between my teeth. My heart raced with each inhale, nicotine burning the back of my throat as I watched him walk pass me, grinning at his friends.
He walked right in front of me, eyes shifted elsewhere. It was then I realised his green orbs no longer gleamed. If anything, he seemed tired and disappointed, as though someone had ripped his heart out and stomped on it, repeatedly.
I flicked the remains of my stick away and ran, as fast as I could, onto the train station. The sight of the cabins moving out of its shelter caused a frustrated groan to escape my throat and I just stared at the moving train in disbelief.
Over the weekend, I couldn't help but wonder what went wrong. Yet, I knew I needed to tell him. He has to know.
The following Monday, I cornered him before class, catching him returning from his trip to the bathroom. I told him everything; how his smile mesmerises me, his eyes pulling me into the depths of the unknown. I told him that I've fallen, and I can't get up without him.
I told him that he is my pillar of strength. I told him I would like to go out with him, to be his boyfriend.
That was the first time I brushed my fingers against his skin, and the first time I thought I was being rejected. He cringed and shoved me away, then clutching his heart like a lifeline. His eyes widened and his breathing quickened.
I grabbed him and pulled him into my tight embrace, silently accepting each push and punch he gave me as he tried to stop his own panic attack. When he did, tears were streaming down his pink cheeks. I wiped them away for him and promised him that, whatever had caused these violent reactions, I will stop it, even if it takes me a whole lifetime. Even if it kills me slowly inside.
We continued our relationship, allowing it to blossom with as little touches as possible. He wasn't comfortable and I wasn't about to pressure him into something he disliked. I was hit with another slap to the face when he finally relaxed in my grip, when the truth came out from his own luscious lips.
He threw himself at me, face buried into the crook of my neck and he mumbled. His arms tightened with each word his tongue enunciated, and I was left frozen.
The story behind his reactions was disturbing and upsetting and infuriating, all at once.
My lover had nearly been raped, twice, by men who claimed to have loved him. The second my shirt began sticking to my skin, I held him close and told him it wasn't his fault, even if his stubborn mind wouldn't wrap itself around the fact. He was young, he craved attention, just from the wrong company.
But it made him who he is today, the boy I fell in love with. I didn't fall for the whole being at once. I fell for each and every broken piece he kept hidden from public. Each time I learn something new about him, it's like that overwhelming feeling of love takes me on a newer, tougher ride of my life.
A ride I gladly went through.
Every time I catch him daydream, I would slowly lean over and kiss him, just to stop his mind from wandering too far down a damned road that was meant to be in his past. If I'm too far away, I'll send him cheesy, romantic texts just to see the smile that brightened his face.
I won't stop trying to make him happy, each and every day. Because that's what you do when you've found someone to love. You shower them with affection, and expect nothing in return. You understand and admire each shattered piece of his soul, even if they prick you with their sharp edges.
With love, comes sacrifice. While he took off his mask for me- leaving him open and vulnerable yet trusting me not to pull the same shit as his exes -, I'll give up the world just to see his smile, just to hold him close and dear to my heart. To stop him from despising my touches- of which has been succeeding; he no longer flinches away from me.
I'll give up the world to make his more livelier and bright and cheerful, as long as I'm able to stay by his side. Because I love him, every single tiny piece of him.