The Hearts of Lonely People

Title cred: She makes dirty words sound pretty- Jonny Craig (ft. Vic Fuentes)

Vic’s P.O.V.:

Ugh. I hate free periods. Is that weird? I guess I’m just strange. I’m sitting in the hall and I decide to continue working on my writing project for music. We have to write a song and perform it in class. I’m petrified even thinking about it; Everybody’s eyes on you, while you make a fool of yourself. There’s a nauseous pit in my stomach but I’m not sure if it’s because the last time I ate was two days ago, or because of the anxiety I feel on this assignment. So far I have the guitar down and no lyrics, but that’s alright I have about three weeks till I have to perform it. Suddenly my progress is interrupted when Rick, the lead of the group of kids who beat me up, glances at me all alone. He decides to take this to his advantage. He slides up to me and puts his mouth to my ear to whisper something. He breathes and I shift uncomfortably. “What you working on you worthless faggot?” I make eye contact with him, which is odd. “Why do you care?” I question and he chuckles. “I don’t know.” He grabs my journal and dashes outside. Fucker. I chase after him. He stops behind the school and dangles the book high above my head. I reach for it and he kicks me down. My stomach is gonna be so bruised up tomorrow. He leans down in my face and spits, “I wasn’t done this morning, too bad your boyfriend had to interrupt, the daily torture wouldn’t have to be this rough, huh?”

He punches me in the upper nose; the corner of my eye, and my chin. I cry out in pain. He then grabs me by my wrists and pulls me up, only to smash me against the brick wall. I can feel my newest cuts reopening. Damn, that hurts. He notices my pain and smirks, pulling down my sleeves. “Rick st-stop.” I try to wiggle my arms free. When he gets a good look at my work he laughs hard in my face. “You’re so pathetic.” He shoves my journal in my chest and walks away chuckling. I look down at my arms. “I know.” I whisper, rolling down my sleeves. I walk back to the hall where the bell rings signaling it’s time for lunch. I walk off with my head down. I turn the knob and pop open my locker, placing my work on the shelf then slamming the locker shut. Hundreds of hungry teenagers dash past me and bump into me. ‘You’re really starving yourself? You’ll always be a fat pig’. ‘No wonder you don’t have any friends.’ ‘Faggot.’ Voices repeated in my head. A single tear slides down my cheek. ‘Now you’re gonna cry? How-‘ “Pathetic.” I cut off the voice with a whisper. I might as well tattoo that word across my forehead. I slip into the bathroom and enter a stall quickly I saw someone washing his hands but I ignore him. All I need is one more person telling me I’m a failure. I slide down the cold tile wall and hug my knees to my chest. Tears flood out of my eyes and I sniffle into my jeans. I’m just about to grab the blade in my pocket to ease my suffering but then there’s a knock on the stall door. Shit. I’m gonna be beat up again. “Vic?” A familiar voice called. Jonny?

Jonny’s P.O.V.:

I step out of the stall and wash my hands, looking myself in the mirror. I’m so happy I’m not hideous. Just then a familiar short boy dashes past me into the furthest stall, wiping his face. Hey, it’s the cute guy. I grin, why does he make me feel so giddy? I’m not a queer. I hear soft sniffles from the corner of the bathroom. Was Vic, crying? Wow, when I get my hands on the people that did this to him I swear- wait, no. Vic’s a man. He can fix this himself. But is it really considered gay to help out a friend? I breathe in heavily, slowly making my way to Vic. I knock on the door three times and hear him abruptly stop making any noise. No crying. No breathing. He was scared. Did he think I was gonna beat him up like those assholes? “Vic?” I ask hoping for a response. I hear him sob again before replying “J-Jonny? Is that you?” Awe, my baby. I mean- ugh. “Yeah it is. Can I come in?” I ask softly. He unlocks the door and returns to his seat on the hard bathroom tile, his skinny legs to his chest. I shut and lock the door, deciding to sit across from him. “Why are you cooped up in here, aren’t you hungry?” He’s awfully thin, from what I could see anyway. He was wearing a baggy hoodie which is odd considering it’s in the low 80’s. He probably gets cold easily from his small body. “I’m fine.” Lies. Why won’t he look at me? “Sure you are.” I roll my eyes at him. He pulls on his long straightened locks nervously, then crosses his arms against his chest. “Why do you care, anyway? I’m just a worthless faggot.” He spats and hides his beautiful face in his sleeves. How could anybody so wonderful think so low of themselves? “Hey,” I grab his wrist, not meaning to be rough. “Ah, stop.” Vic whimpers, pulling his arm back. Was he injured there or something?. “Um well anyways, Vic. Look at me.” I put my hand on his knee this time. He glances up and I notice something I hadn’t before. A large purple and black bruise surrounding the corner of his eye, which he tried to cover up with his hair. On his chin was another mark. He notices me staring and looks away tearing up.

“Oh my god, did that guy do this to you?” I reach for his face but he flinches away. Did he think I’d hit him? He looks away ashamed. Then whispers something in his sleeve I can’t quite hear. “What was that?” I ask softly. Vic glances up, his watery innocent eyes breaking my heart. “I’m sorry I’m so pathetic” I couldn’t help myself; I grabbed around his small body and hugged him tight. “Shh, you’re not pathetic. You’re wonderful. Don’t listen to what they say. It’s not true. I know we just met today, but I know you’re a great person who doesn’t deserve any of the shit you receive I’ve been through it too, dude. Not having anyone to turn to, being treated like a fucking punching bag. You’re more than that. Okay? I’m here for you. I’m not leaving your side.” I coo and he lets out a soft weep in my chest and wraps his arms around my torso. “You’re lying, you’re just gonna leave me.” He cries into the fabric of my shirt. “Why do you think that?” My eyes start to water. Why am I acting so wimpy? I don’t cry. “T-that’s all everyone does. T-they tell me they’ll n-never leave and the next day they’ll be g-gone.” His voice cracks and he lets go of me, returning the position he was in, covering his face with his sleeves. “Vic, I promise I’m not going to leave you.” He wipes his eyes and looks up at me. “Really?” I grin. “Really.” For the first time I see this kid smile. It’s beautiful. A genuine smile; not like any of that fake shit. He hugs me once more and I stand up offering a hand. “Want to eat lunch?” I beam. “I’m not h-hungry though.” Vic sniffs and just then his stomach grumbles. I smirk at him and he blushes. “I call bullshit. Now come on you’re going to eat.” He sighs. “Alright.”

Vic’s P.O.V.:

We were the only ones in line, considering how much time we wasted in the bathroom. I feel terrible, he shouldn’t have put up with me; he’s going to have no friends and it will be my fault. The cafeteria lady drops some chicken nuggets, carrots, celery, and a small carton of milk on my plate. I scrunch my nose in disgust. Jonny notices and laughs lightly. We grab are platters and look around for a place to sit. “Do you have any friends you sit next to?” He questions. “No.” I mumble looking at the floor. Jonny looks around and his eyes lock on Tony, I recognize him as the kid Mike and I picked up this morning. Tony notices and waves us over. “Hey Jonny, Hey..” “Vic.” I mumble. “Vic.” Tony smiles. He’s cute, but not as cute as Jonny. I can’t let him know I feel this way though. I can’t lose the one friend I have. I sigh and sit down with Tony and his friend Jaime. Jonny scoots next to me and accidently touches my hand. He pulls away and I blush. “Sorry” he whispers near my ear. “I-it’s fine.”

Jonny’s P.O.V:

Vic stuttered, his face a dark shade of pink. He’s so cute but he’s always so nervous. The thought of someone hurting him enough to terrify him at any interaction is just depressing. I turn around and notice a guy sitting across from me. His spikey hair was black with one section bleached; interesting look. “Hey I’m Jonny.” I reach over the table to shake his hand. “Jaime.” He places his hand in mine, flashing me a dimply grin. “So,” Tony starts. “Your next class is music, and because we all have late lunch, that’s it.” Tony looks up from my schedule smiling. He’s a pretty cool dude surprisingly. He’s really into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Star Wars though; I guess that’s why he’s such an outcast and why people call him ‘Turtle boy’. “I don’t have that class with you, I take Spanish so I can show you there now if you want.” I’m about to reply but Vic interrupts, “I uh, have music next so I can take you after we eat.” He suggests. “Alright sounds cool.” I grin in agreement. I start chomping down my food while Vic just looks at his disgusted. He picks up a nugget and tears it in half. “Ew.” He whines. “Vic, just eat something please.” Jaime rolls his eyes. I chuckle a bit and watch as Vic groans. He picks up a carrot and brings it to his face. His nose scrunches up again. That’s adorable. He finally puts it in his mouth and gobbles down the orange vegetable. “Happy?” He questions. “Yes.” Jaime smiles. Vic sits up and grabs his platter. He wanders away to the trashcan and dumps everything away. “You’re wasting food!” Tony yells. “There’s starving children in Africa!” Jaime adds. We all laugh and Vic turns around, sticking out his tongue annoyed. “Hey,” Tony whispers, elbowing my ribs. “What happened to Vic’s face?” Jaime leans in wanting to hear about it as well. “Some dick beat him up, he doesn’t want to talk about it though.” I whisper in response. They both nod slowly. “It was probably Rick. That guy’s been bullying Vic ever since Vic’s ex, Kellin, told everyone he was gay.” Jaime explained. That would explain why people call him a fag. “That was in 8th grade in middle school, I think.” He continued. “Has it always been this bad?” I scratch the back of my neck, awkwardly. “Pretty much. It got worse after his mom left though.” Jaime looked at his lap and sighed. “Why’d she leave?” I ask. “No one knows, I don’t even think Mike or Vic know.” Tony replies. “Mike?” I tilt my head. “That’s his brother he’s a sophomore. Everyone likes him though, he’s a bit threatening. He’s really tall and he has a lip ring.” He points to the center of his bottom lip. Strange, would have never guessed a short guy like Vic would have a younger brother who’s tall and threatening. “Well alright, I got to go find the kid. See ya guys around I guess.” I get up and throw my scraps away, placing the platter on top of the trashcan. I make my way to the high school hall to catch up with Vic. I find him grabbing some things out of his locker. I pat him on the back and he flinches, quickly turning around. “Oh, it’s you. Sorry.” He plays with his hair. “It’s alright, no need to apologize. Do I need anything for music?” I question. “Yeah, y-you need your binder but that’s it, unless you brought an instrument.” He explains, grabbing an old acoustic guitar out of his locker. “You play guitar?” I ask. No, Jonny he just happens to have a guitar in his locker, and callus on his fingertips. “Yeah” He smiles happily. So cute. And he plays guitar. Score. We walk over to my locker and I grab my binder. The first bell rings and students flood through the halls. Vic leads me to the music room and we sit on the floor. “I feel like I’m back in kindergarten. No chairs? I dig this class already.” Vic laughs. “It’s my favorite class I love music.” He stares at his shoes. “What music are you into?” I turn to face him. “Nirvana, Blink-182, which by the way, I like your shirt,” he winks and I chuckle. “Red Hot Chili Peppers, Brand New, Greenday, Queen, etcetera.” Wow, he has a great taste in music. “That’s awesome.” We’re still the only ones in the classroom, guess we’re a little early. “Can you play any songs on guitar?” I ask. “I, uh, yeah.” He blushes and picks up his guitar. He tunes his guitar a little and starts playing a song I don’t recognize. It’s really pretty though. “What song is that?” I question, confused. “Oh, I made it up. It doesn’t have a name yet.” He glances up for a moment to respond. “Are there any lyrics?” I smirk. “Uh huh.” He stops playing. “D-do you wanna hear?”

Vic’s P.O.V:
I shouldn’t have asked. “Yeah, dude, totally!" he beams. “O-okay.” I start playing over again. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?
“I never knew what I would do if anybody tried to take you away,

And your beautiful boy won’t wait for you because he’s busy with the stars and the fame.

And I don’t know why I breathe.

It’s taking too long for me.

Can we speed up the process, please?

But show me the one I need.

I need somebody.

Somebody, crazy enough to tell me

I will love you till we,

Till we are buried.

Our bodies,

Our bodies buried close together.

Cemetery weather.

In this cemetery weather.”

I stopped playing to see his reaction. I look up and our eyes meet. “That was amazing.”

Jonny’s P.O.V:
“O-okay.” Vic stutters and starts the song over again. “I never knew what I would do if anybody tried to take you away, and your beautiful boy won’t wait for you because he’s busy with the stars and the fame.” Holy shit, his voice is beautiful. It’s kind of unique. “And I don’t know why I breathe; it’s taking too long for me.” I wonder if he’s ever attempted suicide. That lyric just makes me wonder if he has and if he’s depressed. There’s a good chance he is considering how he sees himself and what others have said about him. With that thought it’s as if a light bulb went off in my head. When I grabbed his forearm and he winced and when Rick grabbed his wrist causing him to cry out. He self-harms. It all makes sense. “I need somebody. Somebody crazy enough to tell me ‘I will love you till we. Till we are buried.’” Vic sings passionately. “Our bodies, our bodies buried close together. Cemetery weather. In this cemetery weather.” He stops playing and glances up at me expecting some form of reaction. “That was amazing.” I say , the question still lying in the back of my head. We remain staring in each other’s eyes for a moment, thinking. “Th-thanks.” Vic looks back to the floor and places his guitar to the side. “Vic, can I ask you something?” His brown childlike eyes flick up to meet with mine. “Go for it.” He whispers, biting his bottom lip. That’s hot. Stop. “Do you cut yourself?” I ask worriedly. His eyes fill with panic for a moment then relax. “No, why?” It’s almost scary how good of a liar he is. “Because whenever somebody touches your wrist you flip out.” I state, a bit offended he won’t tell me the truth. He looks back to the floor, probably thinking up an excuse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vic avoids eye contact again. “Really? Show me your arm.” I command. “No. L-leave me alone.” He scoots away but I follow him. “Vic, I just want to help you. And frankly, I don’t like to be lied to.” I say. He finally looks up at me. “I do, alright? Why do you care so much? You’re not my mom!” After a second of realizing what he said, Vic’s eyes water. “Just leave me alone.” He whispers and students swarm in the classroom. I glance over at him and he wipes his eyes gently. I stand up and find a new spot to sit.
I flop down next to a couple of stoner looking guys. One has a navy blue Neff beanie stuffed on his buzzed head. He’s wearing a graphic top with pizza printed all over it, black sweatpants hang loosely on his bottom-half, friendship bracelets covered his arms, he has large red plugs in his ears and on his feet; tie-dye high socks and an old pair of Converse. His eyes are a bright but dark green, and his skin is tanned. His friend had dark brown hair, styled in a puff. He had hipster glasses on his face, hiding his brown eyes. On his body he wore a baggy forest-green shirt, grey jeans, white toms hugged his feet and different colored bracelets wrapped his wrists. He was a bit pale compared to the other students, his face was slightly freckled and a septum piercing hangs out his nose. A ukulele lies next to him, I assume he plays it. They’re laughing about some stupid joke when one turns to me, “Hey, you new here? I don’t think I’ve seen you in this class before.” The green eyed boy tilts his head. “Yeah, my name’s Jonny I just moved here from North Dakota.” I cross my legs and placed my arms behind me to hold up my upper body. “Oh cool, dude. I’m Tate and that’s Cameron.” He pointed to his friend who waved sheepishly. We had a short conversation about the school. Then Mr. Stevenson, the music teacher, strolls through the door silencing the class. I turn to check on Vic. He’s lying on his stomach, propping himself up with his elbows. His eyes are swollen and sad. He stares at the carpet in thought. Mr. Stevenson stops by him for a moment, bends down, and whispers something to him. Vic nods quickly and the teacher pats his back, standing back up. He trots to the front of the classroom and starts lecturing the students about their assignment. I’m not paying much attention; I’m too busy replaying Vic’s unique voice in my head