Pretty Things Bleed Too

I stood in front of the cracked bathroom mirror, trying not to cry again. My hands were shaking so bad the concealer tube kept slipping. There was this ugly purple bruise on my cheek from last night when Luca got mad about dinner being cold. I dabbed more cream on it, blending it like my life depended on it. Because it kinda did. If anyone saw, the teasing would get worse. They’d call me a punching bag. A weak little doll. A pretty boy who deserved it. “Kai Reyes, you’re such a joke,” I whispered to my reflection. My eyes looked too big and too shiny, like I was about to break. I hate that I look like this. Soft cheeks. Long lashes. Lips that always look like they should have gloss on them. I slipped the strawberry lip gloss from my pocket anyway and put a little on. It made me feel… pretty. Even if pretty got me hurt. The bell rang. s**t. I stuffed everything in my bag and rushed out, head down, hoodie pulled over my face. Blackthorne Academy was hell. The hallways smelled like sweat and expensive perfume mixed together. Everyone here had money or power or both. Me? I had bruises and a sketchbook full of dreams nobody cared about. “Fairy boy!” someone yelled as I passed. Laughter exploded behind me. I kept walking faster, clutching my bag to my chest like it could protect me. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? I never did anything to them. I just… existed. In class, I sat in the back corner like always. The seat next to me stayed empty on purpose. Nobody wanted to be near the weird soft kid who drew dresses instead of playing sports. I pulled out my sketchbook carefully. Today’s drawing was this velvet jacket with silver embroidery. It looked like something a prince who was also a villain would wear. Dark but beautiful. I smiled a tiny bit while shading it. Then juice hit it. Cold, sticky orange liquid splashed all over my sketchbook. My drawing. My velvet jacket. Ruined. I gasped and looked up. Jake and his stupid friends were laughing, one of them still holding the empty carton. “Oops,” Jake said with a fake smile. “Didn’t see you there, princess.” My eyes burned. I bit my lip hard so I wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of them. “Why… why do you do this?” I whispered. My voice came out too soft. Too weak. “Because it’s funny,” one of the girls next to him said. She flipped her hair. “You walk around looking like a broken doll. It’s pathetic.” I tried to wipe the juice off with my sleeve but it only smeared the ink. The lines blurred. My beautiful drawing looked like it was bleeding. Just like me. Everything I cared about always got destroyed. My makeup. My clothes. My art. Me. The teacher didn’t even look up. They never did. Nobody cared about Kai Reyes. I was invisible except when they wanted to hurt me. I closed the ruined sketchbook and put my head down on the desk. The wood felt cold against my bruised cheek. I just wanted one day where I didn’t feel like crying. One day where someone saw me and didn’t want to break me more. That’s when I felt it. Someone was staring at me. Hard. I peeked up through my hair. Across the room, leaning against the wall like he owned the whole school, was Damian Valenti. He was tall and scary and beautiful in that dangerous way. Black hair that fell over his eyes. Sharp jaw. The kind of guy who got expelled twice but still came back like nothing happened. Rumors said he beat people up for fun. That his family was in the mafia or something crazy like that. Everyone was scared of him. Even the teachers. He was looking right at me. Not laughing. Not disgusted. Just… looking. Like he was seeing me for the first time. Really seeing. My heart did this weird flip. I looked away fast, cheeks burning. Why was he staring? Did he think I was pathetic too? Class ended. I grabbed my stuff and tried to disappear into the crowd, but the hallway was worse. People shoved me. Someone “accidentally” tripped me and I almost fell. My bag ripped open a little and one of my loose sketches flew out. The velvet one. The ruined one. It landed on the dirty floor. I froze. No no no. People stepped over it. One guy almost crushed it with his shoe. I rushed forward but someone pushed me back. Tears were starting now. I couldn’t stop them. Then a black boot stopped right next to the paper. I looked up slowly. Damian Valenti bent down and picked up my sketch. His fingers were careful. Not like he was going to rip it or stomp on it. He looked at the drawing for a long second, even though the juice had made the lines run. His face didn’t change much, but something in his eyes got darker. Sharper. He held it out to me. I stared at his hand like it might burn me. Up close he smelled like expensive cologne and something dangerous. My fingers shook when I took the paper back. “Th-thank you,” I whispered. My voice was so small. He didn’t say anything at first. Just kept staring. His eyes went to the bruise I thought I hid. To my glossy lips. To the way I was hugging my ruined sketchbook like it was a baby. “Why do you let them treat you like that?” His voice was low. Rough. Like he didn’t talk much but when he did, people listened. I blinked. Nobody ever asked me that. They just laughed or joined in. I swallowed hard. “Because fighting back makes it worse.” The words came out before I could stop them. It was true. Last time I tried to stand up for myself, Luca beat me so bad I couldn’t go to school for three days. Dad just called me disgusting and told me to man up. Whatever that meant. Damian’s jaw tightened. He looked like he wanted to say more, but the bell rang again. People were watching us now. Whispering. The devil of Blackthorne Academy talking to the weak femboy? It was probably the most interesting thing that happened all week. He stepped closer. Just a little. Close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes. “You look better smiling,” he said quietly. Then he walked away, hands in his pockets, like he didn’t just say something that made my whole chest feel warm and scared at the same time. I stood there in the hallway holding my ruined sketch, lip gloss sticky on my mouth, bruises hidden under my hoodie. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might explode. Damian Valenti noticed me. And for the first time in forever, someone didn’t want to break me right away. But I knew better. Boys like him didn’t save people like me. They destroyed them. Still… when I got home that night and Luca slammed me against the wall for being late, I touched the spot on my sketch where Damian’s fingers had been. The paper still smelled a tiny bit like him. I cried into my pillow, but this time some of the tears felt different. Hope hurt worse than bruises sometimes. Because deep down, even though I knew it was stupid, I wanted him to notice me again. I wanted someone-anyone-to think I was worth protecting. Even if it was the most dangerous boy in school.