*WARNING! BULLYING AND SELF-HARM AHEAD! DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU! THIS SHIT'S NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART!*
This chapter has taken me nearly a week to complete, and a week prior to procrastinate on. So, this was started just after spring break ended… It's nearly three times longer than a normal chapter, at just over 6,000 words alone. Seventeen pages, flat out. I'm fairly proud of it.
But, it DOES contain a self-harm scene. I've dealt with self-harm in the past, guys. It's not pretty, or graceful, or something to be admired. I really wanted to write this, however, so I went ahead with it. The rating of this story will now move to an M, since I don't want to have to say this again. Things that I enjoy in literature are not the same things that I condone in real life. Stay safe, keep clean, guys.
(Please, no flaming either. I fairly warned you.)
His hands shook.
Raivis watched his yellow converse hit the pavement. The dark surface was still wet; it had drizzled rain early in the morning, but by the time noon came it was usually gone. He walked briskly. He might have looked rushed; but in reality, he just walked like that. His hands trembled by his sides; they hadn't stopped shaking for a long time now. For days; for weeks. He was generally just nervous anywhere outside of his own home, or maybe Eduard's house.
He'd spent enough time at Eduard's house lately to be comfortable in the atmosphere there; they'd been in a steady relationship for nearly ten months. He'd met the boy in his freshman year—he and Toris. They'd been a year older than him, but they were still the best friends he could ask for. Ones who listened.
He'd been mostly alone in the freshman class, anyways. As soon as it became common knowledge that he was gay, he'd indeed been ostracized by his peers; hell, even his former friends. He'd been bullied his whole life, whether it was because of his height, or his hair, or his voice, or what TV shows he liked, or his sexuality. It became a mantra; constant flow of society to him. In order for there to be happiness for some people, people like himself had to suffer. And he'd accepted it, as a second nature. Keep to yourself. Don't touch anyone. If you don't bother them, maybe they won't approach you. Maybe they will just keep walking—to find another willing tribute, a different seal under the shark's nose.
It was just turning from afternoon to dusk. The sky was starting to get tinged dark around the corners by the trees; that's how you could tell it was gonna get dark soon. Raivis kept walking at his quick pace, hoping the sun wouldn't get too low before he got home. It was only 6:30; you'd think the sun would stay up longer. However, he wasn't surprised. The days got shorter and shorter as the year went on.
It was only a short distance from Eduard's house to his own; well, relatively short. He'd gotten used to walking where he needed to go; his parents weren't often available to drive him. They liked to save gas money to get to work and back; and besides, it wasn't an insufferable distance between their houses. Raivis didn't want to be a burden to his parents.
He hummed a tune as he walked- a slow one, with a steady beat he'd heard on Toris' i-pod at school the other day. The three of them shared everything—music, homework answers, sometimes even clothes. (Of course, not much of Eduard's clothes fit Raivis, and Toris' was a little small for Eduard, but they still sometimes ended up with the other's sweatshirt or jacket or something).
Raivis turned the final block to his house; into a less developed neighborhood, with less space and no sidewalks. Trees shaded the road—they had all lost their leaves, but they cast strange skeletal shadows into the street as the sun set. He approached his own driveway, and got to the side door. The screen was still up from the summer, but the heavy glass door sat behind it. He pulled them open separately, leaning the screen against his side while he unlocked the glass door.
Entering the house, he was almost relieved at the quiet. His parents weren't yet home from work, and he had no siblings or pets, so he kicked off his shoes and relished in the peacefulness of the house. He knew, however, that this peacefulness couldn't really be a relaxing time for him. He had a lot of work to do.
Raivis was indeed a sophomore. His only friends were Juniors, Eduard and Toris. They were taller than him, and stronger than him (if only a little bit) and they loved him. He had only one other friend, Peter, a freshman. He was a little annoying, but he called Raivis on the phone to talk about his day and he would sit with Raivis on the days he had to sit alone, so he was in fact a good friend.
In the end, his friends being different ages from him was an incredibly frustrating thing; so he'd tried his best to pull up his grades enough to skip a year. It was a crazy goal, indeed, almost fantastically out of the question. But Raivis just kept trying; he was now in four AP classes and one CP class, with A's in every single one except for math. He sported a mediocre B+ in that class, something about which he'd panicked when it first happened but he'd later calmed down about. His GPA was nearly a 4.0, but that meant hours upon hours of work on his shoulders.
It was almost too much to handle. He'd remembered flying off the handle a few times over his grades; not maintaining a perfect 4.0 could have caused him much trouble. But he'd figured out that AP classes balanced out the credit anyways—it was enough to get him to stop worrying. For now, though, he had work to do.
He pulled himself away from the doorway and set down his heavy backpack. Pulling out his math homework, he began to study.
It was about four and a half hours later that he stopped; he'd pulled out his i-pod and started to let himself slip into a mechanical solving of the math problems; it was very easy for him once he'd gotten the hang of it. The only problem was the lessons the teacher supplied; they were so complicated and quick, he had to go home each day and re-teach the lessons to himself, from the text book. He cursed the teacher for being so long-winded and arrogant. No one liked the teacher, anyways. She was just an old bitch, said the slackers.
He realized now that it was incredibly late; he'd sucked up all of his free time when he'd gone to Eduard's house. Well, it was alright. He'd spent some quality time with someone he trusted; a rarer thing than should be. He found it a bit difficult to trust people due to a thing many people dealt with; bullies, what else.
He was in fact disappointed in himself for that fact. He'd always thought that when he was fifteen he'd be stronger; a person to be proud of that declared opinions and openly participated in society. Ah, no. What he was stuck with here was an anxiety disorder and two hands that won't stop shaking. He could mainly, in fact, blame it on one person; Ivan Braginski.
Ivan was a junior, and his most frequent tormentor. He bullied him and his best friends, Toris and Eduard, forcing them to give him money, hitting them, sending them home with bruises and threats. It was only under a threat that he didn't tell anyone, really. He was sure, as well, that he could handle it. Toris took it worse than either of them, most of the time (something he didn't deserve). He hadn't really realized it was bullying in the first place; he'd just dealt with the torment for a while. A little taunting from Ivan occasionally, a punch on the arm that sent him reeling into the lockers. None of it really clicked under the label until Eduard had come along. You can't just let him do that to you, Raivis. He's just a bully; anyone smaller than him is under his domain.
It was a mindset Raivis found himself unfamiliar with. Normally he'd just try to avoid conflict. Let Ivan do as he pleases—one day he'll give up, right? The more you fight, the more you're giving him what he wants… isn't that worse?
In the end, he just wanted Ivan to leave him alone.
He was, in fact, nervous each day as he went to bed—Each time he laid down his head, it was only preparation for a day of fear and anxieties. His hands never stopped shaking, even now, as he pulled his backpack out again and slipped his math book back into it. He wondered why he shook sometimes, and came to the conclusion that he didn't know. He was like a scared little rabbit, or a frail bird. Only comfortable around a select few people—afraid of the world, it's people, it's society.
He slipped into some sweatpants and walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Glancing into the mirror, he caught sight of golden waves that were getting just a little greasy since he hadn't taken a shower that day. He saw somber eyes on either side of a furrowed brow. His skin was pale and even, excluding the dark bags under his eyes with glossy purplish skin that made him look tired. He pulled out his toothbrush and brushed his teeth near soundlessly, then ran his fingers through his hair. He mentally reminded himself to take a shower tomorrow.
As soon as he'd laid down in his bed, he felt a force pulling him downwards. It was as if his tiredness had contained itself until now, as he unceremoniously flopped down onto the maroon sheets and covered himself with the comforter. He felt the anxiety picking at his sluggish mind, however, as the voice in the back of his head started to tell him that he'd see Ivan again, he'd see him in less than eight hours, less than seven! Hell, it was too late. Far too late to sleep, far too early to rise.
He relished in the softness of the comforter. Ivan could wait, couldn't he? He could wait… along with anxiety, and depression… He just needed to sleep for a while.
He was unconscious only minutes later. The shaking had stopped.
A loud alarm blared in Raivis' ears, interrupting his dream. He couldn't remember what the dream was about, now awake, but he was sure it was a good one and that he wouldn't want to be woken from it. He didn't want to be woken ever, in fact. He couldn't just sleep all day?
Raivis pushed himself from the mattress in the dark; daylight savings time had kicked in now fully, and it was pitch dark outside. No light came from the curtains as it had in the summer, bathing the room in a peachy light from the color of the blinds. He sat in nondescript darkness, propping himself up from the bed using his forearms.
He forced himself to stand and dress—a dress shirt and a sweater, with some jeans. He pulled some socks on (they may or may not have matched) and headed downstairs. His parents were asleep in their room—that was ok. Raivis didn't blame them. The fact that they hadn't arrived home by the time he was in bed meant that they got home late. They needed to sleep anywhere from eight to ten more hours- He'd probably just wake them up when he got home from school.
He grabbed his iPod—fuck, his hands had already started shaking again—and his phone off of the chargers, and he threw them in his pockets and pulled on a coat. He donned his yellow converse- song lyrics written all over them. Shrugging on his heavy backpack, he moved out the door and onto the street. It wasn't far to walk from his house to the bus stop, and for that he was grateful. It meant he'd have to spend less time in the damp, foggy morning. A light fog clouded the whole street every morning, especially in the fall and winter.
The bus arrived only a few minutes after he'd gotten there; he boarded and headed to the seat he always sat in. Popping in his ear buds, the ride passed uneventfully.
As soon as he got to school was when the real anxieties began. The kids on the bus were quiet; some of them even slept and most were generally dormant while they travelled in the dark morning. However, seeing other busses arriving, he wondered if he could maybe slip in the doors by the band room; surely it was unlocked, and that hall would be less crowded than the main hallway…
He split off from the flow of students and walked across campus in the cold morning. It was freezing, really. He probably should have just walked down the damned main hallway, but the promise of an empty path to his locker loomed ahead as he- successfully- pulled open the band hall doors and stepped onto the linoleum. He could hear the faint sound of someone playing the piano in the back room—probably Roderich. He played it before school sometimes, and after school on other days. He said he liked the sound of the upright piano in the sound-proofed room; it provided a different feeling than the grand piano in his own home.
Raivis headed up the back staircase and into the math wing—where his locker was, and cringed as he saw maybe sixty people down the stretch to his locker. Oh, come on. You can make it. He walked forward, weaving in and out of tall seniors in the direction of locker 4457. He made it there, and quickly opened the tall locker, shoving his books inside in order to grab what he needed for AP biology. It was nearly frantic as he unzipped his coat, stashed his iPod, and dashed out of the math wing.
He spent the time until class getting out his assignments, then laid his head down on the desk for a minute, until he heard the final bell go off and he was sitting in a classroom full of students; he sat in the back, intentionally. His AP bio teacher started to give an introduction to his lecture; Raivis found his consciousness slipping anyways. There was a packet of notes passed back to him, and he felt a little relieved. The fact there was a pre-written notes packet meant he could sleep. He laid his head down on the desk, fully aware that he'd have to teach himself the lecture after school today, or perhaps during his free period.
It didn't take long for his eyes to slip shut, the desk feeling more comfortable than it should, as always.
He woke up at the sound of the ending bell—hell, that lecture had taken the whole hour? He decided to wait for a moment just outside the door before entering the hallway—There were crowds of kids rushing to their next classes, and it was among his worst nightmares to get caught in that kind of rush. A minute later, when the halls were mostly clear, he let himself go. He was now even a bit excited, because Eduard was in his next hour—CP Computer Tech.
The reason he'd ended up taking the class was because he needed some CP credit—to prove he was more than smart enough to skip a grade. However, he was quite clueless on computer tech. That was where Eduard came in. If there was one thing Eduard could do better than everybody else, it was working with computers. He could hack, html code, web design, anything. Eduard already knew half the stuff in the class- so he simply did Raivis' work too. The teacher had even caught on to the fact that they were 'sharing answers' when the assignments ended up the same, so Eduard completed some assignments twice seperately, and read through them to make it seem believable. Raivis had to do virtually nothing except show up, and type some things in class. He was eternally grateful to Eduard for that- He wasn't sure he could handle five advanced classes by himself.
He arrived in the door to see Eduard's blonde head turned away from him—looking at the 2003 model box-type computer in front of him. (Their school was pitifully behind in technology due to budget cuts.) Approaching Eduard, he sat down at the computer next to him.
"Hello Eduard," Raivis spoke for the first time that day.
"Ah, Raivis! How are you doing? How was biology?" Eduard inquired, looking anxiously at Raivis' face.
"Uhm. It was alright. I slept through it, but I-I got the lecture notes." Raivis stuttered, "I'm just so tired today."
Eduard looked like he wanted to hug Raivis, but he didn't. "Raivis, what time did you fall asleep last night? I know it was late when you left my house. Did you still have homework to do after that?!"
Raivis sighed slightly.
"I wouldn't have kept you so long if I'd known! Oh, Raivis… you're losing sleep over me!" Eduard fretted.
"I-It's really alright, Eduard. I wanted to spend time yesterday… we wouldn't really have that much extra time the rest of this week, so I… Well, it was really worth it!" Raivis was a little flustered that Eduard was that concerned over him and his sleeping patterns; not many people in his lifetime had been concerned about his health.
The two of them sat down at their computers and started to work on a coding project due the following week. Eduard let Raivis put down his head after a while, deciding he could handle doing the second project at home the next night. The hour passed without incident—the teacher was sitting across the room working on paperwork while they silently typed. Before they knew it, the bell was ringing and it was time for lunch.
They headed down to the lunchroom, Eduard pulling a brown sack-lunch out of his locker on the way there. He walked hand in hand with Raivis, down to the cafeteria, the two of them sticking close together in the flow of students. The two of them had learned to deal with holding hands and such in public; it was common knowledge amongst the school that they were together. It wasn't so much that they weren't bothered by the kids there; they were. Bullying was rampant in such a school. Some schools dealt with bullying appropriately; theirs had no approach. It was simply left to fester amongst hormone-raging cruel teenagers. Not a pleasant idea.
No; the solution lied in them as people. The two of them weren't all that popular or well known around the school, so they seemed to be exceptions to a lot of social rules. They kept out of everybody's way, for the most part, so people didn't bother them as much as an average person.
The problem did however, confront them as soon as they'd stepped foot into the room. They eyed their usual lunch table; Toris was already sitting there, blocked by a tall silhouette. An unsettlingly familiar silhouette; one of a long beige coat, and flaxen hair. Raivis gripped Eduard's wrist and Eduard looked back at him—He could see the blonde gulp. They slowly approached the table, skirting around until they were standing behind Toris, who was sitting on the corner seat of one lunch table. He was visibly tense, eyes wild.
"Ah, hello there Eduard! Raivis!" Ivan was saying as they got closer. "I was just telling Toris… I seem to be a bit short on money today! You should help me out, yes?" He made a face that could not be construed as friendly.
The trio glanced at each other. This was not the first time this had happened. Not the first time, and not the second. This hadn't ended well, either, the previous times. Ivan wasn't talking about lunch money here.
"Raivis?" Ivan's eyes met the shy boy's in the midst of the bustling students around them. In the middle of all this, Yao approached them and watched from a few feet away. The boy's hair was messily parted and pulled back into a black ponytail, where it fell down his back over his red hoodie. He crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk appearing on his face as Raivis started to look distressed.
Apparently, Eduard took the initiative from this. "We d-don't have any money to give you, Ivan! So just please go, so we can eat our lunch in peace."
Ivan looked a little peeved at this. "Ah? I'm fairly sure you do have some money, Eduard! Raivis probably has some, don't you?" Ivan looked back over his shoulder at Yao, smiling in the slightest appreciation of his observance.
Raivis' breath was crushed out of him with that one sentence. "I-I… I think I do. Just, p-please leave us alone." Raivis found himself reaching for his wallet when Eduard stopped him.
"He doesn't have to give you anything!" Eduard stated defiantly, scowling in Ivan's direction as he kept a hand on Raivis' wallet.
"Eduard—Really, i-it's fine. It's okay, to make him leave." He held a long gaze between him and Eduard, communicating through eye contact. Toris still watched nervously as he fidgeted in his seat—He was deathly afraid of Ivan, actually ending up getting beaten up by him once. It had left him bleeding and broken—something he wasn't eager to try again. The school had taken unacceptably minor action against the whole event, but Toris didn't want to get any more involved in the argument with the school board than he was.
Out of the three of them, Toris had no doubt suffered the most physically at Ivan's hands. Eduard and Raivis, however, took more of a psychological blow. Their mindsets were in a most primal fear of the tall boy, Ivan. It was unpleasant, at the very least, and grew into an unavoidable terror when approached.
Raivis pulled out a $20, with a hand he now noticed was shaking worse than ever. He tried to still it, but failed entirely; it was trembling horribly as Ivan snatched the bill from his fingers.
"Ah! Thank you, Raivis! I hope you don't expect it back, really, haha!" Ivan shamelessly laughed.
He hung his head as Ivan swung an arm around Yao's shoulders and walked away with him. Eduard looked at him with a scowl. "Raivis. You shouldn't have given him what he wanted!"
Raivis looked back up at Eduard, nearly having tears in his eyes. He just felt so helpless, since he couldn't protect himself from Ivan's attacks when he needed to, and when he 'compromised', Eduard would get irritated with him. "What else was I supposed to do, Eduard?!" Raivis exclaimed. "He would have probably hurt you, or more likely Toris!" The brunette flinched next to him.
Eduard seemed upset, but had no more to say, as Feliks had strolled over to the table. "Ah? What's wrong?" He started, resting a hand on Toris' shoulder gently.
Toris explained, and Feliks managed to get the trio calmed down enough to eat their lunch. The rest of the lunch period was fairly peaceful, only being interrupted when Raivis spilled a carton of milk onto their table. However, Toris made a run for some napkins, and all was well.
After school was when the problems, of course resumed. It's Raivis, standing by his locker, a few other students rushing out of the hall. He was reaching for his books, gathering them quickly in order to rush to the bus.
Normally he got a ride home from Eduard or Toris, but today they both had activities after school. That was okay. Raivis was fine with riding the bus as long as he got a seat to himself; one of the most uncomfortable experiences in his life was when a couple had sat in the seat with him; together. They had started to kiss, and the girl's back was pressed into Raivis' shoulder. He'd nearly panicked, and got off the bus at least ten blocks early because he couldn't take it.
He stood up, slamming the locker closed.
Whirling around in a hurry, he rushed out of the math wing, heading toward the staircase that would lead down into the music wing. Surely he'd make it to the busses now, it was only 2:18. The busses left at 2:21, and he was only a short run from them.
However, on his way down the staircase, fate seemed to hate him. His small form tensed as he saw the exact wrong person scaling the staircase—Ivan. It fucking had to be Ivan. Strange colored eyes glinted as they spotted him coming down the stairs. Raivis was tempted to turn around and run back—but then, he'd miss the bus! Dammit, dammit!
He moved as far to the right as he could, nearly pressing himself to the wall.
Ivan chuckled low in his throat, growling out a "Hello, Raivis~!" as he cut the smaller boy off, stopping him in his tracks. A threatening gaze met his own. It almost seemed… playful. "Have a good time with your pitiable friends today, yes?"
Ivan put a heavy hand on his shoulder. Raivis could feel his shoulders twitch and shake, stress and fear working to the front of his mind. "Leave me alone. Don't touch me." Raivis heard himself say. It felt like someone else was talking, when really, the words had left his own lips.
"Oh? What will you do to me, if I say no, worthless boy?" Ivan's lips twisted into a more threatening smile. "Something like… this?" Suddenly, the hand laid on his shoulder hit the side of his head with a heavy force. His body was jerked to the right, into the glass windows of the staircase.
He hit the window with an oof and fell to the ground. The thump echoed around the stairwell, emphasizing that there was no one around to help him.
"You're so, so worthless, Raivis. Can't you see that all your friends are worthless, too? I doubt they even like you. You're not very likable, Raivis. Such a pity."
Ivan stepped in front of him again, and Raivis' eyes were focused on his heavy brown boots. Oh, oh no. Ooooh no. The leg lifted back as Ivan sent a kick flying into his ribs, and he nearly screamed. Pain exploded in his stomach and chest, and fuck, had he broken something?
Ivan chuckled lightly. "Thanks for the money earlier. You won't be seeing it again, but this is alright, yes?"
"Stop! Go awa—" Raivis was cut off as he was sent into a fit of coughing.
"Aah. You won't be telling anyone of this, Raivis. Just go play with your trivial friends, hmm?" Another bout of laughter, and Ivan bounded up the rest of the stairs, leaving Raivis weeping brokenly on the staircase.
Take a breath. It's alright. Take a breath, you'll live.
That was the chant he'd burned into his mind to ignore the pain of the bruise on his head, and the pain in his ribs. He was walking home, as he'd missed the bus while that… event was occurring.
He finally reached his house; near a mile away. It was now 3:30; it had taken him almost an hour to walk this far. His breaths were shallow and his eyes felt shrunken from the tears.
Stop that. You'll live, just keep walking. You'll live. Take a breath.
Ivan was a constant tormentor; Raivis was aware he'd tormented Toris and Eduard before he'd even gotten into highschool; now that he was a sophomore, long-term bullying had gone unnoticed by the staff. He felt like bullying at other schools was more like gossip and word of mouth; maybe the kids at his school were more confrontational than most. Maybe he was just unlucky. Maybe god hated him.
But what did he care? He was just an 'unlucky' (severely depressed, overworked, hyper-stressed) teenager.
The door to his home was unlocked, thankfully. He hadn't wanted to bend down to pull the key out of his shoe, anyways. Entering the dim home, he kicked off the shoes and dropped his too-heavy backpack. He walked into the kitchen.
Nearly dropping himself into a chair at the counter, he cried openly again.
He shouldn't be doing this. Feeling sorry for himself. What the hell? He knew Toris had it worse than he did, and yet. He shouldn't have to fucking deal with this. In freshman year, he'd drowned it with alcohol, but his parents had found out. They'd since forbade him to touch even the slightest of alcoholic drinks. Dammit, why didn't they understand? Maybe it would be better for him to just drink himself to death, to fall asleep one night and die of alcohol poisoning. Surely it would be better than this—surely, if god hated him.
If god hated him—
He eyed the knife rack.
Standing up on legs that seemed to work on their own, he took the smallest one, and walked into the bathroom. The person in the mirror nearly startled him; it looked nothing like the honors student he had masqueraded a few hours earlier, no. Here he only saw a disgrace, a demon.
Who else could it be, someone that god hates?
It felt like someone else's hand as he sat down on the toilet, his sleeve down to expose the smooth flesh of his wrist. Someone else's hand as the knife shook, resting lightly against the skin before sliding, slicing—
It was a few minutes later that Raivis realized what he'd done. His wrist—now slashed to ribbons. The knife clattered to the ground, thrown from his grasp like it burned. Eleven times, he'd torn the blade across his wrist. There was blood, and a lot of it, dripping freely onto the floor. He wadded up toilet paper in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Tears slid down his face, but he hadn't realized it. As far as he knew, his mind was in a surreal state. Had he really just—
After he'd said, so long ago! He'd promised never to drop this low!
He pulled his phone from his pocket. Eduard, Eduard had to help! He pressed the speed dial number '2' and hoped, prayed (how can you pray, boy that god hates?), and cried as the ringer sounded. One—Two, Three—Four! Five!
Eduard's voice came on, over voicemail. Raivis hung up before the sound of the tone.
Take a breath. You'll live. You'll live, just calm down.
He takes small steps to clean himself up. Slowly, he sets the phone on the counter, removing the toilet paper from the lacerations. He winces as the red-blotched skin appears—blood already half-dried onto it. He decides to wet it down, slowly, deliberately pulling some more toilet paper onto it, this time damp. Gently, gently, he cleans the wound, and wraps his arm with white gauze. No red or pink or any variation seeps through, and he thinks that's maybe good.
Eventually, he musters up his courage enough to pick the knife back up. He sets it lightly in the kitchen sink, running the tap over it. The deceptive shine makes it look like nothing ever happened—however, for his own reasons; he elected to leave it in the sink.
He wipes the blood from the floor in the bathroom. He barely remembers bleeding this much, hell, did he really bleed this much?
He tries not to think about it. (You deserved it, god hates you, his mind was screaming)
He feels a dull ache in his arm as he finishes, the bathroom looking just as it did before. The whole room, now, felt differently.
He was sitting on his bed, now, as he tried Eduard's number again. One—Two three four, five; Just as Raivis is about to give up hope, the scarily cheerful voice picked up on the other side.
"Raivis!" Eduard said. "What's going on, you never call this early?"
Raivis could hardly breathe. What was he supposed to say now? "Eduard." Raivis croaked. The crying, and the pain, and the tears, were all audible in his voice; a cracked, strangled thing. He sounded broken.
Eduard could tell something was wrong now. "Raivis? What's wrong?!"
"Eduard. I… messed up." God, help me.
(why would god help you, boy who god hates?)
Eduard was in a panic. "I'm coming over. Raivis, are you okay?" He didn't wait for an answer, as the phone clicked off when Raivis heard a car door slam shut.
Eduard had ran in, not bothering to knock. He'd found Raivis sitting at the kitchen counter—barely holding on to his composure. He had slumped into a chair, his forearms sitting on the surface. His face looked red and puffy—a purple bruise decorated one cheek in a gruesome display.
They'd shared a moment of eye contact, a moment of confusion—before Raivis' voice shook out into the air between them.
"I m-messed up." Raivis' eyes trailed down to his own bandaged wrist, and now Eduard understood; he rushed over to the boy, and as soon as the curly-haired blonde was in his arms, tears rolled out onto his cheeks and Raivis was crying again that day. God, god!
Eduard was crying now, too. "Raivis! Why would you…?!"
"I'm worthless!" Raivis howled. "Ivan said so! He said you didn't even like me, he said I'm t-trivial! He said—" The rest was cut off by such a pained wail, Eduard was shocked.
Eduard held him tight to his chest. "You're not! You're not worthless! Raivis, I love you!" His voice was of disbelief. "It doesn't matter what Ivan says! You're not worthless to me!"
Raivis just sobbed harder into Eduard's chest. Eduard inspects the bandages on his wrist, rubbing circles into the smaller boy's back. "Shhhhh. Raivis, I love you. It's alright."
It's alright.
Eduard is here. It's alright now.
Over the next few weeks, Raivis' cuts closed up. Eduard kept a close eye on them. He would run his fingers, gently, over each one— almost not touching them at all. Raivis watched them, too. They turned from scabs into red, angry lines, into raised bumps. Then they almost weren't there at all.
Over those few weeks, however, things changed a bit. Eduard visited every day. (Without fail.) Toris and Feliks visited nearly as often; not a day went by without some visitor to his house. Peter even came over once; he hadn't heard what had happened, of course, but came anyways when he realized Raivis had been hurting lately. Toris and Feliks knew, however, and they knew to keep quiet. Toris had cried over the phone when Eduard told him—Raivis had lowered his eyes in shame, nearly. Eduard just held him close—It didn't matter. Toris would have nearly the same reaction. His best friends needed comfort, so hugs were in order.
Eduard had been visiting so often and helping with Raivis' studies; the first semester was nearly over, and finals were coming up. The two of them would lay on Raivis' bed, curled into each other with an assignment book on one or both of their laps. They would exchange slow kisses between problems, Eduard assuring Raivis that he was loved, and needed, and not worthless. Even if finals were coming, Raivis wasn't worried. He wasn't as stressed now, since Eduard was helping, and Toris had his math class, so he gave Raivis the answers for that—and oh, things were easier now.
Eduard worked doubly hard on the CP Computer Tech, acing each assignment with flying colors. Raivis' grade point average had been wavering at a 3.9, now boosted to a 4.0.
The shaking had stopped.
It was a warm day in June that year, when a letter arrived, addressed to Raivis Galante.
Dear Mr. Galante,
It has come to our attention that your GPA in academic studies has remained at a perfect 4.0 all year, despite rigorous courses recommended for students of a class higher than yours. We are aware that a request has been put through before, and we have decided to accept the application to advance a year in your academic studies. As of September 5th this coming fall, you will be moving up to the senior class of next year. Congratulations, Mr. Galante.
I hope you like it. I've had no time for editing, so please tell me if you see any errors.