Taking Chances

Guess who I had economics with. Eleanor-fucking-Child. I had seen her earlier if only a glimpse, when I got out of my car. She had gotten older, and I admit, she had actually grown into her looks since she's 18 now. He once curly mop had turned into nice bright red ringlets and her body was better proportioned than before. She still obviously had her fetish for funky glasses, since she was wearing sparkly aqua ones that were probably a little too big for her. She looked better, but I didn't like her- I never had. Back then, I had no idea what made me hate her guts but now that I've... confronted my sexuality and my feelings for Micah, it all finally clicked. I was jealous of her, since she and Micah were closer than close, and I hated the way they hugged so casually, the way he always had a smile on his face around her, and the way they always did everything together.

But now it didn't matter all that much, since Micah was homosexual, which was not a problem for me, since I was bi-sexual. But honestly, I think bi-sexuals were just people who weren't very picky, like me. I mean, now I was picky, but that was because after seeing Micah looking so enticing, gorgeous, radiant, everyone else seemed insignificant. He seemed like perfection, no, he was perfection. God, he was so fucking beautiful, in an adorable and protective way.

But back to the problem at hand- Eleanor Child. After listening in on my little spiel about Micah, her eyes widened with recognition, and the colour drained from her face. Since everyone had settled now, the teacher could calmly commence his pointless class. But before he started teaching, being the asshole he was, made us all change our seats according to his liking. And it was either majorly bad luck on my part, or God was punishing me for one of the many bad things I have done, guess who was next to me?

Eleanor Child. Ugh. And since I was situated in a seat against the wall, she was the only person next to me. I probably had a scowl on my face, because she snickered, despite the disgusted and annoyed expression plastered on her face. I folded my arms against my chest, leaning back on my chair as the teacher lay down the basic rules of his class, which weren't basic by any means.

A piece of crumpled paper landed on my desk, resting on top of my navy blue economics folder, and I picked it up, expecting it to be some chick's phone number, like they usually were. I looked around to see who the sender was, but no one was looking at me. Except for Eleanor.

I gave her a cocky raised brow, and she rolled her eyes, biting back her snappy tongue as her hands motioned "Open It". I sighed, and un-crinkled the little wad of lined paper, and read the hasty scrawl that adorned it in inky red pen.

What the fuck are you doing here? it read, and she glared at me as I scrunched it back up again, flicking it onto the floor as I pulled out a larger sheet of paper, grabbing the first pen I got my hands on, a black ballpoint, and wrote in my messy script a reply.

It was a coincidence, sweetheart. But a damn good one. I folded it a couple of times and then lobbed it onto her desk, and she quickly scooped up with her polish-nailed hands, and her eyes narrowed, sending me a side-ways look of fiery red hatred. It looked like her blazing hair reflected her equally hot-tempered nature. She scribbled something, her mouth in a growl, and I was so sure she was going to snap that pen of hers in two by the way her knuckles were ghostly white because of the way she strangled the pen half to death. She chucked it at my head, but I caught it was a self-satisfied grin on my face, as she flipped me off, her hand hidden underneath her desk.

Fuck you. Do you know how much you hurt him? Do you have any idea how seeing you again will damage him? When you left, he almost fucking killed himself. He thought he was ugly, that he disgusted you, that he was horrid. He threw up every meal we made for him, and it got to the point of anorexia. Luckily we, and his therapist, were able to help him. Did you know that? What you did to him? her writing said, and my breath caught in my throat, as I gripped the piece of paper in my hands, which were now clenched in tight fists. My stomach curled and my heart felt like someone had grabbed one side, someone the other, and were pulling it apart with all their strength. I felt like a fucking dick, drowning in guilt.

I turned to look at her, and instead of looking insanely pissed off like she did a moment ago, she looked so worried, her leg tapping against the floor as she nibbled on her already short nails. I read her note again and again, each time the knife stabbing deeper and deeper into my heart. Micah had almost died, and it was because of me. It hurt, but it was nothing compared to how he must have felt, when I left him there in the blistering cold, yelling out my name as I walked away, not even looking back at him.

I picked up my pen again, writing something that Eleanor looked eager to read.

I didn't know. And you don't know how guilty I felt after I left him. I have nightmares about him every night, when he dies and slips through my fingers. I've never felt so lonely in my life, and then I realised that I need him. I love him, Eleanor. I honestly do. I threw it over, and she read it, shaking her head sadly. She wrote a very quick reply, just before the bell rang, and pressed it harshly against my chest as we got up. She walked out, her red hair bobbing through the crowd that rushed to get out for lunch, as I peeled the message back.

You already hurt him once. What makes you think I'll trust you? You're a liar and a bastard. Just stay away from him if you really care about him.

I gritted my teeth, ripped the piece of paper before throwing it in the bin by the door as I walked out. I walked to my locker, which I had worked out where it was, and put my books away, grabbing my wallet and stuffing it into my back pocket, as I followed the crowd of horny teens to the cafeteria. It was a large area, packed full of tables. It was dimly lit, but the mid-day sun shone through the large windows on the far wall, looking out across the school's back gardens, complete with an ageing hexagonal gazebo with two sets of benches on the light wood platform. It was a nice school that accepted everyone.

Well, that's what I thought, until I noticed a trembling Micah in the corner of the room, drenched in some sort of coloured liquid, as a guy laughed along with his friends. Eleanor stood up, her wild mouth about to either curse at them or to insult their mothers, but Micah shakily grabbed her arm, shaking his head as he said something, the guy walking away with his buddies flanking his side. Micah stood up abruptly, and started walking out, half-way to the door breaking out in a sprint. As he brushed pass me, I tried to gently grab his arm, my heart about to burst, but he slapped it away and darted for the bathroom about 15 metres down the hall. Everyone watched him leave, but when he disappeared from sight they resumed their conversations. I saw Eleanor get up, grabbing another girl I recognised as Micah's little sister, who then in turn pulled up a very shocked but very angry guy, whom I didn't know. The three of them walked over to the drink-dumping guy, and started verbally attacking him. But being the obvious asshole he is (I'm an ass too, but I don't bully. I'm just full of myself. He's cocky and a bully), he just smirked, smacking Eleanor on the ass. Bad move. Eleanor then grabbed his lunch, which I think was pie, and slammed it on top of his head. He blinked, and the Maybelle, the random guy and Eleanor grinned, walking away satisfied.

I smiled a little, and hurried off to the bathroom. As I neared, I heard Micah sobbing and choking, and that was what did it. My heart just shattered in my chest. I quietly walked into the bathroom, the door squeaking on its rusted hinges, and I walked to the end cubicle, which was the only one locked. I knocked on the door, and heard Micah whimper an adorable "Wh-who i-is it? G-Go away."

"I can't do that, Micah," I said, and his sobs stopped for a brief moment, before starting back up more violently than before.

"G-go...a...away! Don't t-talk to me!" he screamed, his voice cracking. I sighed, and jammed my nail in the lock. Seriously, either the designers of toilet cubicle locks were complete numbskulls, or they were sexual offenders who wanted to be able to get into locked toilets so they could have their fun. Either way, I turned my thumb and the lock opened, the door swinging open ajar, and I saw Micah, my poor, sweet, little Micah, on the floor, a shaking mess, his face streaked with fresh tears. "N-No! Go away! I... I'm... s-so ugly. D-don't look at me!" He was practically screaming, scuttling away from me despite the tight space, and I bent down, sitting in front of him, hands up.

"I'm not going to come any closer, Micah," I said gently, my brow creased as I took in his dishevelled and tormented appearance. Fuck, I just wanted to wrap my arms around him, to kiss away his tears and to tell him he was beautiful. Which he was, despite the current situation. He was heart-breakingly beautiful.

"D-Don't look at... me," he sobbed, covering his face with his hands. "D-don't... I-I..."

"You're not ugly, Micah," I assured, and he looked up, his watery eyes wide. His lip trembled as he bit it, which looked painful by the way it was going red. "Trust me. You're not ugly at all." I then slowly, very slowly so I didn't scare him, moved forward, and gently touched his shoulder. He flinched a little, but didn't move away, so I leaned over and pulled him against me. That made him seem to choke a little, the waterworks resuming again. We were sitting on the ground in the toilet, and somehow had managed to reposition ourselves so my legs were spread out and he was curled up in between them, bawling his eyes out against my shirt. I rubbed his back in large circles, as he shook as he tried to suppress the tears that were spilling out.

"Don't hold it in, Micah," I whispered, playing with the hair that rested half-way down his slender neck. "Cry it all out. I'm not going to leave." Again, I added in my head, and we just sat there, me holding him as he cried is little heart out. When he calmed down, he pulled away- a little too quickly- and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Better?" I asked, and he nodded, nibbling on his lower lip.

I then looked at his shirt- which had dried in a sticky blue mess, moulding itself against his smooth chest. He sighed, and got up.

"Your shirt..." I said, and he shrugged, his eyes not as lively as I once remembered. This morning before he recognised me, they were bright, but now they were cool and guarded. I could tell he had built the walls around him thicker and higher, after seeing me again, as well as the new bully that has targeted him is dead set on tormenting him.

"It's fine," he mumbled, as he ran hid fingers through his locks in an unintentionally sexy way, letting out a tight breath. "There's only one period left, anyway."

"You can wear mine," I said, and he immediately shook his head profusely, and I couldn't help but chuckle. "Seriously, Micah. I have a jacket, so I'll just wear that. It's not a big deal, and besides, you're all sticky." Fuck, saying that turned me on for some reason. Sticky. Micah. Yummy. Maybe I could offer to lick all of the suga- Ugh, I'm fucked up in the head.

"O-okay," he stammered, after a moment of deep thought. I grinned, and pulled off my shirt. I pretended not to notice the way his eyes looked me up and down, and the way he blushed adorably when he realised what he was doing. I handed him my shirt, and very slowly pulled my jacket on, as Micah hesitantly pulled his own soaked top off.

And hot damn, he had an amazing body. If you saw his perfectly sculpted chest and lightly defined abdominal muscles, you would never have guessed that he had once been anorexic. He was absolutely beautiful, pale, devoid of blemishes. His skin that looked so smooth, and was slightly moist from the drink spillage. The blood inside my body pooled in a very specific location, and my dick tingled slightly, and I mentally groaned. Damn. Getting a hard on so easily because of Micah, but fuck, he was hotter than any girl I've seen naked.

He pulled on my shirt sadly, and thanked me softly, before the bell for 5th period droned.

"Are you going to show me to english, tour guide?" I asked, smiling softly, as his lips twitched into a barely recognisable smile. But he still smiled, and nothing could change that.

And the fact that I was the one who made him smile took a little of the burden of guilt off my shoulders. Just a little bit, though. We still had a long way to go.

Eleanor's message then flashed in my head, as we walked to the english room. You already hurt him once. What makes you think I'll trust you? You're a liar and a bastard. Just stay away from him if you really care about him. Stay away from him. It seemed like a reasonable order, considering how much I had wounded him, now not just mentally, but physically as I have discovered. I knew I should stay away from him- it still obviously pained him to even look at me, since even now he kept his distance, conflict flashing in his eyes every time he had to speak to me.

But...

I couldn't stay away from him. Not after what just happened in the bathroom. He had clung to me and had held onto me. My feelings of wanting to protect him had grown even more after seeing him crying like that. I couldn't get the feeling of his body snuggled against mine, fitting perfectly, like that last piece of the jigsaw puzzle. I wanted him, needed him.

The question was, did he need me?