1 Chapter 0.5

"Is that him?"

He could feel their eyes moving with him, stealing glances and muttering as he walked. It always bothered him, his heart shuddered with pain every time it happened. A feeling of self loathing and hatred consistently washing over himself, adrenaline spiking and flowing through his body; ready to jump at even a paperclip falling. His long lanky arms twitched, begging for food and nourishment. His body shuttering with every step, like wading through a river fully clothed. His mind begging for them to stop looking, to stop talking. His eyes shaped like a dead fish, staring at the ground as he walked through the corridors.

"How much for you to go and slap him right now?"

"Hahaha I'd do it for free"

His attentive ears picked up every conversation, he wished it would stop; but he never was able to not care what people thought about him, his desire for everyone to like him and had turned to this. Walking alone from class to class, hoping no one would confront him, his mind wouldn't be able to handle , a cold sweat washed over him as he walked into his next class. Normally his uniform would be perfect, his tied down up to the top button, his shirt tucked in and a school sweater over the top. Clean and expensive shoes, perfect length pants and a shiny belt, he smelt like the ocean and his hair was always appropriate. Only, he had made a mistake today, a seemingly small issue, he had drawn stars on his hand, black blemishes lathered his left hand.

"——————… what is that on your hand?"

the teacher asked, asking a simple and polite question, she was always smiling and saying

"Remember boys to always be a gentleman!"

He didn't dislike her nor did he like her , she was nothing to him, just another stepping stone through the pond of lies and deception he had been traversing for a year and half now. His heart sunk as he heard his name called…

"Sorry miss, I'll go clean it up after class"

he muttered quietly as he walked to the back of the classroom, his body shook with fear as he moved, begging for the conversation to end before anyone noticed he was talking. Of course, some did notice, and they snickered and whispered and they started, shooting daggers into the back of his head. He hated that, he hated when they saw him, when they spoke about them, he wanted them to love him , to adore him like a older sibling, someone to respect and appreciate. The teacher was also still staring at him, her smile slipping for only a moment before she went back to her desk at the front of the class, her salmon shirt and grey skirt wrinkled and dishevelled, betraying her look of flawlessness she had been accustomed to being accused of. She knew. He knew that she knew, and she realised that. Almost saying sorry to him, she didn't ask him any questions during the english class nor even look in his direction. He appreciated it, he thanked her for a moment where no one was looking at him, judging and critiquing him, question img his every movement, every blink and every breathe taken.