Someone Somewhere

"Faggot!"
"Why don't you kill yourself?"
"You're disgusting..."

Ben felt like he was dying. The kicks and punches just didn't seem like they would ever stop. His parents had shipped him off overseas in an attempt to be rid of him legally. To avoid the shame of having a homosexual for a son. These Americans were so cruel, loud, judgmental. Not unlike the teenagers back in England, they were worse here though. Violence wasn't tolerated in the dignified, English private school he had attended, here though it was like the teachers just turned their heads. He hated Fremont, he hated America, he hated himself for being gay and not being able to be the perfect son his parents wanted.

It was one swift kick to the ribs later, and he found himself alone in the locker room. It seemed the other boys had gotten bored of abusing the whimpering male. Really, how long could one be entertained by kicking something that just laid there? Very slowly, the boy removed his arms from his head, it had been his only attempt at defending himself. Ben hadn't even pleaded for them to stop, because deep down, he knew he deserved it. The words pathetic and disgusting were starting to circle his mind, much like vultures over a wounded animal. The pain his body was radiating was nothing compared to the abuse his own mind was whipping up. His mind was destructive, much like a forest fire, and it was swiftly consuming his remaining will. Warm wetness on his face startled him into a sitting position, he hadn't even realized he'd started crying. It was like a dam burst though once it started, the tears and sobs wrenched themselves from his chest, sounding broken and scared as he began to claw at his skin. God it hurt. Not the scratches though, the agony went far deeper than physical pain. It traveled deep, deep into the recesses of Ben's mind.

'Why don't you just kill yourself...'
The bitter words spat from one of the boys mouths swirled around in his head. Didn't they realize he wanted to? That he was tired of the constant self-loathing, the fact that no one cared, even his own parents didn't want him. Who would want a faggot for a son...
Gasping for breath, the teen scrambled to his feet. His backpack, which locker held his backpack? There it was, locker 478b, in all it's rusty glory. Of course they gave the new kid the shittiest locker available. Thankfully, the locker didn't even lock anymore, so what he needed wasn't hindered. After a brief hunt, he found it. The one thing he called a friend now, the little piece of metal glittering wickedly in his hand under the fluorescent light. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ben slunk to the toilet area of the locker room. He needed a cubicle, something he could lock and be alone in.

Once he was safely locked in the grimy cubicle, Ben lifted his hoodie. A pale stomach littered with scars and open cuts stared back at him. Reminding him of how worthless he was, proved to him that he was a pathetic waste of space and that he truly was disgusting. 'No one will love you...' His mind whispered at him, giggling at his misery. "I know..." He whispered back, pressing the sharp blade to the skin, reveling in the way the blade easily bit into the flesh. Soothing him, calming him, killing him. That was the point wasn't it? The hope that one day he'd cut too deep and they'd find him dead on a bathroom floor. The blade sank into his skin, almost moving on it's own accord it seemed, over and over again. The bright red oozing down onto his black basketball shorts, in some places it dripped onto the floor. Over and over... Tilting his head back, Ben's lips parted, it was almost sexual looking if one peered past the pool of blood on the floor and vicious wounds on his stomach. It was a deadly pleasure, the only thing that helped. The blade bit deeper and deeper, the skin splitting and blood shining in the dim light.

Dizzy...he was so dizzy though. He couldn't make another stroke, it required too much energy. That was okay though, he couldn't even remember why he had been upset.

---

"Mr. Worsnop, where do you think you're going?" A frazzled looking, grey haired teacher shrieked after a young man. Danny Worsnop.

The senior didn't even acknowledge the old woman, he ignored the whispers and snide comments that followed him out of the classroom as well. Did they ever stop? He hated them all.. They were the ones who caused the scars littering his wrist. Cutting was new for him, still somewhat alien and frightening, but it helped. Helped the memory of his mother's recent suicide fade for a few seconds, or numbed him to where he couldn't care. And right now, he needed to be numbed. A stupid remark made by the class 'badass' Oli still pricked at his mind. "I bet she killed herself because of you. I mean seriously, if you were my son, I'd have offed myself years ago." The cruel grin, and laughs of Oli's friends had made him see red. Not the red of anger though.

That's how he found himself in the locker room, it was deserted at this hour, all the junior boys would be out running laps for gym and wouldn't be back until the hour was over. A broken piece of glass from his bathroom mirror was all he had to work with. The idea of buying razor's to mutilate himself seemed terrifying, made it seem like he had a problem. He didn't have a problem, he wasn't depressed... Depression was a disease, it had killed his mother. Danny fingered the shard in his pocket, quickly moving the bathrooms now. It was quiet, and he breathed out the uneasy sigh he'd been holding in. Something prompted him to look at the floor though, and under one of the stalls he saw a pair of Vans clad feet. That wasn't what caused him to gasp out loud though. It was the small pool of blood on the floor staining the soles of the shoes that formed a pit of fear in his stomach. "Hey! Hey open this stall man, what are you doing?!" Danny shrilled at the locked cubicle, banging on the door. No reply. That same feeling he'd felt when he found his mother's dead body in the bathroom flashed through him. In a fit of panic, he kicked the door with the flat of his foot. One of the flimsy hinges, already deteriorated from lack of care, broke, allowing him to squeeze into the narrow stall. His stomach churned as he stepped in the puddle, he softly moaned the word 'no'. Before him was the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen, he didn't recognize him, but the term 'exchange student' briefly flickered through his mind. That was it! He was the new British kid, that was about as far as his knowledge went about him though. Not that it mattered at the moment. "C'mon....don't quit on me!" Danny cupped Ben's face with both hands, willing the other to come to his senses. He pulled the other to him, slowly sliding onto the floor, away from the puddle.

----

To Ben it seemed as though he was underwater, he could see, but it was blurry, he could hear, but it was muffled. And why did breathing hurt his stomach so much? Slowly he began to regain his senses, who was holding him? And why was he cradled to this chest in a dingy bathroom stall? Blinking uncertainly, Ben tried to focus on the sobbing male who was holding him like a delicate piece of china. The pain in his stomach seemed to be increasing though as he regained his senses, it was burning at this point. Like grabbing a hot metal pan. As the pain reached its peak, he finally met eyes with the male before him, who abruptly stopped crying and looked like he'd seen a ghost. That's how pale he was. Blue eyes that seemed to stare into his very soul (as cheesy as that seemed) reminded him of exactly what happened. His own eyes slipped down to his black hoodie, he could see the drying blood peek out from beneath the article. He'd passed out from pain, the blood loss wasn't enough to kill him unfortunately. Just make him wake up feeling like absolute shit in a strangers arms. 'Huh...just like back home..' He thought vaguely, not even realizing the man before him was speaking. " 'M sorry, what did you say?" Ben said, feeling oddly safe in this stranger's arms. "I said, are you fucking crazy?! You could've died!" The serenity was shattered, "The fuck does it matter to you? I didn't ask you to fucking show up." Ben snarled, accent even stronger in his anger. It seemed to startle the older out of his anger, "You could've died..." Danny repeated, casting his eyes down to the cuts littering Ben's stomach. He gingerly ran his fingers over them, ignoring both the gasp from Ben and the sticky-ness left from the blood. "You-" Ben interrupted the statement he knew was to come, "Don't bother with the 'You have so much left to do' speech." The British boy muttered bitterly, turning his head and trying to rise out of this stranger's arms. The grip tightened, almost painfully, though. "I don't...I..please. I'll be there for you. I'll stick by you, whatever it takes. I don't want to see someone so beautiful throw their life away..." Danny's voice was so soft, his eyes so serious as they bore into Ben's that the younger actually blushed. Turning his head, he tugged his lip rings between his teeth, unsure of how to reply. No one had ever called him beautiful, sexy yes, fuckable definitely, but never beautiful.

Snapping out of his haze, he glanced back at Danny, "You don't even know me..." Ben whispered. "Let's change that...I'm Danny." Danny said, pulling the more slender of the two into a hug.

----

It had been weeks since Ben had cut, even longer since Danny had, and longer still since they had met. Danny was a lifeline to Ben, and Ben was someone to protect to Danny. His own past seemed to fade in the importance of protecting the slender male. Something to distract him from his mother. Ben had seen the scars, and been told the story, of course it made him cry. In fact it had made him hysterical, and he had to be calmed with a kiss. Well maybe not HAD to be, but it was the only logical option to Danny. Ben cracked a couple months later and told Danny about his parents reaction to his homosexuality, it resulted in another kiss to calm the hysterical junior. A month later Danny asked Ben out, he wanted Ben to realize how perfect and amazing he was to Danny. Today, three months from the day Danny made Ben his, they were sitting on Danny's couch. He lived in the basement so there was plenty of privacy. Ben's smaller form was currently curled into Danny's side, head resting in the crook of his neck, his long legs folded gracefully underneath him. He sported a new black hoodie (Danny had insisted that the old one held too many bad memories and bought him a new one) one that rode up as he shifted, exposing the creamy skin, marred by his past. Danny looked away from the movie they were watching to glance at the boy his arm was around, he noticed the skin. Ben refused to let Danny see him shirtless, so the sight reminded him from the first day. Without thinking, he reached down with his non-occupied arm, and ran his knuckles over the puckered lines. Gasping, Ben lurched away, his green eyes huge and terrified. It was a sight that wounded Danny, Ben leaning away, lower lip trembling, large eyes staring with distrust and self...hate? Usually Danny let it go, but not this time. "Baby...please, let me see."

He moved forward slowly, giving Ben a chance to push him away, until he was hovering over the younger. Ben bit his lip, eyes filling with tears, he looked away, clamping his eyes tightly closed. Danny felt his heart break at the sight, but continued, he lifted the hoodie and shirt underneath, eventually pulling the articles off. It could've been perceived as sexual, but it was too tender for that, and neither were in such a mood. Ben began to tremble beneath him, but Danny was marveling at the sight. Ben had always been the tinier of the two, but without the offending layers of clothing, he seemed even smaller. Gently protruding collar bones, completely smooth skin. No hair at all, just a span of creamy, unblemished skin. Until one looked above his shorts. The skin would be considered ruined and ugly to most, raised, off colored skin, some marks still angry looking. It was littered with the scars. One hand trailed down again, running gently over the skin, feeling, knowing why he was here. His purpose was to be with Ben, to take care of him, he knew that now. Reaching up, he grabbed Ben's chin gently but firmly, and leaned in. "Hey...look at me." Trembling violently now, Ben slowly opened eyes that screamed fear. Ben feared what he would see in Danny's eyes, he expected disgust, what he saw was much different. "Ben, you're beautiful, completely perfect." He whispered, leaning in to capture Ben's lips in the most loving kiss possible. Their lips molded together perfectly, moving over each other's slowly, tenderly. When they broke apart, panting lightly, Danny leaned his forehead against Ben's, smiling. He was so caught up dealing with the butterflies, kissing Ben gave him, he almost missed his next words. "I love you."