Walk into my Heart

Ok, Pythagoras Theorem… a2 + b2 = c2 … only used in right-angled triangles… I increased my depth of focus on the worksheet in front of me to drown out the barrage of taunting from my right. I wouldn't usually give this level of concentration to a maths sheet (and an exceptionally boring 'revision' one at that), but it was far better than having to sit through that constant onslaught of bullshit again… and made resisting the urge to hit the girl responsible a little easier.
    I caught a sympathetic look from the sandy haired boy next to me, as he quickly brushed a comforting hand against mine; he wanted to intervene and shut her up, just as much as I did, but experience dictated that this would only succeed in making matters worse…
    "...and why no pretty make-up today? Did poor little Mattie get upset?"
    Surprisingly, it is possible to get just a little upset after regular bullying over eye make-up. I really should have known that, no matter what I did, I was never going to win here… Back to maths- example question 1. I tried to regain concentration, despite the ever-growing desire to forcibly wipe that smug smirk from her orange-tinted face…
    
    Baz almost laughed out loud at the hypocrisy of Nicky's taunt: she actually thought she was in any position to be commenting on someone else's make-up? Perhaps she should look in the mirror once in a while… or a little to her right, at her equally ridiculous-looking friend. It was almost a miracle that both these girls weren't currently stuck with their heads down on their desks, due to the weight of their make up-caked faces: cheap foundation so thick you could doodle in it, topped off with what looked like a large brush-full of black paint plastering each eye… and they thought that put them in a strong position to slate Matt's usual hint of black eyeliner and mascara- so delicate and subtle in comparison… but it made the ice blue of his eyes all the more piercing.
    
    "…Or did your mummy tell you she wanted a boy, not a girl?" Nicky's smirk grew. She had touched this particular nerve many times before, when she wanted to be sure of a reaction.
    You dare bring my mother into this, bitch?!   "Would you like to shut up?" I hissed at the two, now giggling together at their own 'comedy genius'.
    "Matt…" Baz had a soft warning tone to his voice.
    I was very familiar with what that use of my name with the slight shake of his head meant- 'they're only winding you up for a reaction, don't do anything stupid'. The problem is- it's very hard, in the heat of the moment, not to retaliate…
    "I've seen your mum around. She's a right MILF innt she, Nicky?" The other girl contributed, through her raucous but strategically quiet laughter; setting up her friend nicely for another round of verbal assault.
    "Although, you wouldn't know anything about fancying a woman, would you, Matt?"
    I knew immediately what she was implying- what this was all about… again… and it took a few deep breaths and a significant amount of pure willpower to stop the raging hormones from having their way right there and then. It was too much, all of it, to just ignore… but then, I couldn't give in to their tormenting- not right now, in the back of maths class. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction…

It was always hard, sitting there and listening while all this was happening only centimetres away- easily in earshot, despite their whispers- and not being able to do a thing about it… nothing, that is, apart from offer an inconspicuous amount of emotional support, which was never going to be enough at the best of times.
    It had been like this for the two boys since the start of secondary school: Baz had always though that Matt was a fascinating boy, with all his eccentric quirks and mannerisms… unfortunately, other children didn't seem to appreciate him for what he was, in the same way that Baz had always tried to do. They seemed to spend a much greater portion of their time with him picking out and criticizing the small details. From here, however, the nasty comments tailed off- people ran out of original things to say. A few ass-holes carried on, of course, but that was easily ignored.
    But now, however, the bullying had flared up again; and this time, the offenders had found a whole shiny new angle, and had been busy using it to apply a different spin to all the old reasons…
    It was all because the two boys were close. Far too close for their classmates to accept that their connection was purely a friendship… that didn't mean they weren't completely wrong in their accusations, but all their reasoning was bullshit, and only Baz seemed to realise this. For one, Matt had always run around looking like a duck coming into land and talked with a very slight lisp- it wasn't some 'homosexual development' or whatever the hell they said… and Baz suspected that Matt's tendency to wear make up was more of a 'gothic' thing which he'd inherited from his mother; it certainly wasn't uncommon to see boys walking around wearing eyeliner in the Whitby area. Even if you ignored the 'location' factor entirely, Baz was sure that what little eye make up Matt wore certainly didn't deserve the level of slating it received… especially when no-one could deny that it looked good on him.
     Another thing that was often commented on was Matt's way of gesturing with the index and middle finger of each hand together, (Apparently the reason for this was that Matt, at an early age, had badly broken both the index and middle fingers of his right hand. Many years later, these fingers still refused to move properly and Matt insisted on acted like they were still strapped together; he had also gotten into the habit of doing the same with his left hand, to even things out. And the wild gesturing? That was just Matt being overdramatic.) But that was another thing that Matt had always done.  
    To be honest, Baz almost pitied those few people who truly believed that they could judge someone's sexuality from running styles or speech impediments… but any shred of that feeling vanished when he tuned back in to the girls cruel 'discussion'. He knew how much Matt had been struggling recently, as the teasing got progressively worse and added extra tension to the stresses of looming exams and general 'growing-up'. He didn't need it. Not right now. And neither did Baz; obviously, he himself wasn't exempt, as the rumours began to circulate, but Matt just provided the 'better' target- being more likely to provide the bullies with the reaction they thrived on. Now, however, Matt was completely silent. It may have looked, to anyone else, like he was just ignoring the girls- staring instead down at the worksheet in front of him- but Baz knew that intense stare, and the worksheet was certainly the last thing on Matt's mind. That was often when Matt was most upset- when he just stared straight ahead at nothing in particular; it was a way of forcing himself not to react- locking himself securely within his own head… The problem was, all that bottled up frustration had to come out somehow, and Baz was pretty sure that many, many things were going to get kicked en route to English…
    Suddenly, though, Matt did something that, in all five years at secondary school, he had managed never to do…
    he walked out.
    He didn't say anything; didn't make a fuss- just walked straight out of the classroom.
    The two girls laughed louder than before, and that was the only reason Miss Harper noticed.
    Then came the questions, followed by the indignant volley of denial from the two responsible ("what the hell?! It wasn't even us, Miss!"), but Baz wasn't listening to any of this- he was just waiting for the right opportunity… for the petty drama beside him to die down juuuust enough…  
    His hand shot up, "Miss, can I go see if he's ok?"
    "Yes, yes Barry, you can go…" Mrs Harper sighed. "Now quiet down, all of you, or its two minutes off your lunch! That goes for you too, Nicky. I'll deal with you two at the end of the lesson."
    That was a forbidding tone she ended with, Baz noticed with some satisfaction. He decided to give the girls something to explain to her, as a parting gift. "Why can you two never just leave him alone?" There, just loud enough for Miss to hear. Enjoy your detention.
    Baz left the classroom quickly before either of them could protest, or drag him into an argument. Now all he needed to do was find Matt…

    I had to get out of there.
    I had no idea where I was going to go, or what I was going to do now- I just had to get away from them… before I f*cking strangled one of the bitches; walking out was certainly going to have far less consequences than if I stupidly went and did that.
    I had found myself, after a few minutes of aimless storming down corridors, in the nearest empty boys' toilets. Straight away, the radiator got a few solid kicks- helping to relieve the worst of the built up tension even as the first hot tears started falling…    I hated crying over something like this- it felt so pathetic and weak to give in to their teasing- but at least now I was where no one could see me cry…
    I gripped either side of a sink and leant forward to rest my head against the mirror behind it. I closed my eyes and tried my best to slow my wild, erratic breathing and racing heartbeat. All the while, my tears kept falling- wet droplets rolling down my cheeks and splashing at intervals into the basin below.
    I screwed my eyes more tightly shut. I had to stop crying: any minute, the bell would ring for the start of next period… and I didn't want to: 1. be caught or 2. have to explain why I was late…
    "Matt?" my heart pounded for a moment as the door swung open, and footsteps clattered on the tiled floor… then I heard the familiar voice… and relaxed.

    Baz had been fairly confident of finding his friend here. It seemed a logical place to start- the toilet block being only a little way down the corridor from their maths class; Matt wouldn't have gone too far away.
    He knew he had been right the moment he pushed the door open; the moment he saw the dark shape huddled in the corner, head pressed against the mirror… the moment he heard Matt's muffled sobs.
    And now no one was around to judge.  
    Baz ran over and draped his arms around Matt's shoulders in an attempt to offer comfort. "You ok, Matt?"
    
    "I'm fine." This came out much more forceful than I had intended; the rage was still there, fighting its way out by any means possible; its favourite method so far, though, was in my tears… and these were showing no sign of stopping. Feeling self-conscious, I turned away from Baz. Even though his presence was reassuring, I still didn't want him to see me cry…
    His hands slipped off my shoulders and, for a few awful moments, I was sure that I had hurt him. But then they returned and, holding my shoulders gently but firmly, Baz turned me around to face him.
    "it's ok," he whispered, with a reassuring smile. "It's not like I haven't seen you cry before."
    "And that's meant to make me feel better?" I managed a weak smile. "It's just those… those bitches… they… they just don't know wh-when to…"
    "shhhh, it's ok."
    I realised I had been raising my voice, and instantly tailed off. the revived anguish and distress only making the tears flow faster.   
    
    Baz wiped the fresh moisture from Matt's cheeks. Was it wrong that he adored the way the water made Matt's eyes sparkle? Two pale, crystalline blue jewels against his pale skin, even in such dim lighting… Baz tried not to stare too much, although it was a tragedy to waste such beauty…
    Baz had suspected his feelings for Matt for some time now. They had always been especially (some might even say 'suspiciously') close and, although they had never kissed or shared any other intimate gestures, Baz had always felt a strong affinity towards the boy- he wanted to care for him, defend him from all those who would wish to harm him (which always seemed to be a great number of people) , and had always understood him on a much deeper level than anyone else could ever hope to achieve… it was a feeling much stronger than any friendship, and seeing him like this just recently- distressed to the point of tears on regular occasions- was almost unbearable…
    And now Matt was just getting himself worked up again. Baz longed for a way to comfort him; a way that was more effective than a simple hug, or a reassuring smile…
    There was only one way, Baz realised, but it meant crossing the barriers he had set for himself… and what if it was the wrong move?
    
    Baz had been quiet for a while, just gazing levelly into my eyes. I wasn't quite sure why, but for some reason I didn't want to look away… I stared back, captivated. I had never really looked into his eyes before… I mean, I had obviously looked at them, but not really looked- it was hard to make them out, in the badly-lit room, but for the first time I noticed their sheer complexity. Until now, I had always assumed they were blue and, to be perfectly honest, that's what they were. But at the same time, they were so much more than that- the base colour, a mottled dark grey/ blue, was highlighted with an amazing variety of lighter shades; an effect that made them look almost like stone-washed denim…
    In that moment, I felt something stir- a feeling that I had been suppressing, like the anger before, because I didn't want to display it publicly…

    Baz made up his mind. He had to do it. When would he ever get this chance again? The chance to display how he truly felt…
    He allowed himself to relax his barriers, and allowed the feelings to flood in and take control- letting instinct guide him as he gently rested his hands either side of Matt's head, closing his eyes and he leant forward… anticipating contact…  
    
    When Baz's lips touched mine, my initial reaction was to back away… or at least try to. I might have gotten further if my back wasn't now pressed to the wall. My eyes widened with panic but, after a few seconds, I gave in to the new sensation- closing my eyes as Baz had done. I found my hands moving up to his head, running fingers through soft, scruffy hair, even as he relocated his own hands to my waist.
    The whole situation suddenly felt… right. I had always strived to be in control- with no father, I had assumed that I had inherited the responsibility of 'dominant male' in my family, and had always forced myself to act as such… now, though, it was an overwhelming relief to allow Baz the position of control, as he pulled me in and pressed his soft lips even closer to mine.

    Baz had not expected such a great reaction; he pressed his lips more firmly against Matt's, committing even more to the kiss. This prompted an even better response- a small but lustful moan escaped Matt, as Baz pulled him deeper. With heat rising and driven by a sudden and impulsive wave of confidence, Baz used this moment to slip his tongue into the moist cavern of Matt's mouth.

    So immersed in their overwhelming, newly discovered feelings were the two boys that neither of them noticed the door open…