No Right Choice

As we returned to the Cafe I noticed how flirty Claire was being with Marik and his friend, I felt a spike of jealousy shoot through me and a pain as I watched her look at me and then turn back to the boys. I knew it. I knew she wasn't gay or Bi, I knew she was straight. Sitting I tugged Cody down into the seat and then asked him quietly, "Should I call you Cody or Nightmare?" His response surprised me, "Use Nightmare, I like it." To which I hugged him and introduced all of my friend's, Claire seemed to dislike him, no matter his attempts at conversation. Marik wanted Claire and thought that Nightmare was trying to flirt, and so a fight broke out.

"Why don't you just leave her the fuck alone?!" Marik's voice boomed across the table, silence dispersed around us. I looked over at Marik, annoyance clear in my gaze. Twining my hand with Nightmare's bloody one I glared at Marik and was cut off, a deep male voice came over mine, "I just..." Nightmare didn't finished, but instead he stood. Dropped my hand, and left. I watched him, turned to Marik and glared, a short cold sentence came from my mouth, "Your a bastard." And then, I glared at a fading, but still, smirking Claire, "I can't believe you two." And then I ran out of the Cafe., catching up with Nightmare quickly. I hugged him from behind and said they didn't hate him and he just watched me pitifully.

And then I remembered how lifelessly my hand had fallen, how dead it felt without him. Hearing the bell ring dully I grabbed his hand, flashed him a teary smile and tugged him out of the hallways and out of school, sure we were skipping, but we needed to catch up, on a lot. Slowing we walked along the path, it was concrete and led into the forest around our school. Our footsteps were dull and soft and I asked quietly, "Would you like to talk...about the past? I don't know much about you..." He looked at me quietly and spoke in icy, stone-set, and choppy sentences, "My parents died when I was little. My whole family hated me because I killed my mother at birth, went to an orphanage, was picked on. Then adopted, only to be molested. And then went back to the orphanage, where someone else adopted me at age seven. I lived with them and then met you. A softball game I believe. And that's when I found out you were the only thing that kept me alive."

He sighed and continued, "I cut a lot, like you used too." To which I responded solemnly, "I still do..." The look he gave me was a saddened one and when he grabbed my shoulders and looked me in the eyes, bending down, I got a nice look of his sharp strong features. Although he wasn't hot nor handsome, he was still...good looking. In a desperate, refined, grungy sort of way, if that makes any sense. His dark blue eyes were searching mine desperately and his features were as regal as ever and his scruffy hair and simple clothing set him off as different.