Scars Don't Heal When You Keep Cutting

I couldn't take my eyes off him since I first lay them on him in the first place. He was perfect. His hair, his eyes, his lip rings, all of what I can see about him is cute, and I already mentioned perfect. He's also really quiet and shy, I’ve noticed. He came in, sat down, and has been staring at his lap ever since. He's-

"Mr. Worsnop, did you hear me?" our teacher, Ms. King's kind voice asks, snapping me out of my thoughts of the boy, who I'll call Cutie until I learn his name. Hey, he's fucking beautiful, why not? I glance at Ms. King's young, smiling face before glancing at Cutie, who was staring at me from the corner of his eye. How cute.

"No, ma'am, could you please repeat what you said?" I ask politely, a few of my classmates giggling at me. I could feel Cutie’s gaze on me as I spoke.

Ms. King shakes her head disapprovingly, but still wears that comforting smile and giggles. "The class is to complete the worksheet Aaron just handed out, but you may work with one other person," she answers me before telling the class to get partners if they wanted them. I glance at the worksheet that lay at my desk. What the fuck… I don’t know how to do any of this shit…

I roll my eyes at the paper before glancing over at Cutie, who just sat there, twirling a pencil with the tip digging into his finger (which looked like it would hurt but okay). He's not looking for a partner, so I might as well go to him. Hey, he might love having someone go up to him and asking him if they could be his partner, I know I would if I was in his position.

I grab a pencil and my worksheet and head over to him. I don't think he noticed me approaching, or even expected someone to go up to him, because he flinches when I tap his shoulder. He quickly turns to face me, horror swimming in his beautiful eyes. I offer a sad smile, knowing that I scared the crap out of him. Wonderful first impression, huh?

He starts to look at me funny, and I realize I’ve been staring. I clear my throat as I feel my cheeks redden slightly.

"Uh...Would you like to work together?" I ask sheepishly, praying for a positive reaction. His cheeks turn a cute shade of light pink as he stares up at me with wide eyes. He finally nods hesitantly and turns back around in his seat. I smile wide as I steal the chair from the empty desk next to Cutie's and sit in it. I watch him for a few seconds as he goes back to playing with his pencil.

"I'm Danny," I say, earning a small flinch from him again. He glances at me quickly before looking down at his lap.

"B-Benjamin. But you can just call me Ben," he speaks quietly. His voice was so quiet I almost missed it, but just enough for me to hear it well enough to know how beautiful it is.

"Alright, Ben! Well, let's start now and get it done?" I ask him with a huge smile. It’s then that I notice that he didn’t only tell me his nickname, but his actual birth name too. It shouldn’t make me feel so happy, but I’m on top of the fucking world.

Cutie- well, Ben, nods his head shyly and gets started.

Since I didn't really know how to do it, he showed me how to do it. I told him I knew how to do it after he showed me how to do the first three, but really, I started looking over at his paper. I didn't want to bother him any more than I might’ve. We eventually finished every problem, and I collect both of our papers.

"I'll bring yours up for you," I tell him when he gives a confused look and walk away to Ms. King and give her the worksheets. She offers me the biggest smile anyone's ever given me. It kinda confused me, but her response told me why.

"Thank you for working with Mr. Bruce! I think he needed a friend," she says quietly so the rest of the class didn't hear. I smile back at her. Well, all it really did was widen. I haven’t stopped smiling ever since I started talking to Ben.

"It was really no problem at all!" I chuckle before going back to Ben, Ms. King's words scampering through my mind.

'Thank you for working with Mr. Bruce!'

I know his last name, baby! Fuck yeah!

'I think he needed a friend.'

Wait… He has no friends?

My smile falters.

But he's so precious, who wouldn't want to be his friend? I mean, he's very quiet, yes, but that's not a reason not to talk to the poor thing. They could be missing out on so much because they decided not to talk to him because of him being so shy. Mmph, their loss. They won’t have the opportunity to say they have the hottest best friend ever while I will.

I sit in the seat next to Ben and stare at him with a cheeky smile. He glances at me before looking back to the pencil between his fingers.

"Um...you're making me feel...uncomfortable," he speaks quietly.

"Sorry, bad habit of mine,-" I apologize, looking away for a second so I don't freak him out any more than I already have. I look back to him and ask him one of those questions that are said to be annoying:

"Why are you so quiet?"

He looks up at me slightly and we make eye contact. It was as if he was searching for something.

"You won't judge me...will you?" he asks shyly. I shake my head.

“Hey, I’m not one to judge anyone,” I smile at him.

He stares at me for a few more seconds before he finally answers.

"I don't trust people, so I try to keep to myself if I can," he answers quietly. I nod my head understandingly.

"You trust me, though, right?"

"Um, I think," he answers, not making eye contact. I raise an eyebrow.

"You think? Why think?" I ask, desperately wanting to gain his trust.

"It's...nothing, don't worry about it."

I sigh but leave it alone anyways. He doesn't wanna talk about it, I guess I won't pester him about it. But I do ask him another question, probably another annoying one people like me ask:

"What do you think of me?" I feel awkward as soon as the words slip from my lips. I feel a bit of heat rise to my cheeks as I look anywhere but him.

"Wha?"

Shit shit shit and shit. He probably thinks I'm a creepy pedophile!

Even though we’re like the same age but okay…

“You’re just fine, mate," he says, causing me to blush a bit.

"Ah, nice," I say awkwardly. I risk a glance at him. He’s twirling the pencil still. He suddenly flinches and drops the pencil in his lap. Before I can say anything, a drop of crimson oozes from his fingertip and he quickly moves it to his mouth, sealing his lips around the wound.

“Do you need a bandaid?” I ask him, but he shakes his head no. We sit silently, until he actually speaks up.

“So… You new to this school?” Ben asks as he looks to me, removing his finger from his mouth. I smile, happy to know that he is the one who started this conversation.

“Yeah. Do you think you could show me to my next class? I have no idea where it is,” I chuckle.

“Of course you wouldn’t. Let me see your schedule,” he tells me, and I pull it out of my bag and hand it to him. He looks it over and nods.

“I’ll get you there.”