Pretty for the Sake
Chapter 2
“So if we get pictures off the internet and put them on a poster-” Nathan stopped talking and glared at his partner, who was talking to the table full of girls conveniently right next to theirs, “Paris.”
“Yeah?”
Nathan sighed, “We need to work on this.”
“Uh-huh. Sure, whatever.”
Sighing in frustration, Nathan went over to the bookshelves and found another book on their topic, Anglo-Saxon Literature. He went back to the table where Paris had picked up his notebook and was reading over his outline for their project.
“What do we need all of these books for?” asked Paris.
“Research,” Nathan replied, “We need to research stuff so we can write the research paper, hence the name.”
Paris made a disgusted face, “Why don’t we just buy a paper off of the internet?”
“Because, Paris, that is plagiarism and we can get suspended for that then get a zero. This is a quarter of our final, Paris. It’s very, very important. You would know that if you would use the head on your shoulders for a little while and paid attention.”
Smiling at him, Paris breathed, “You’re so pretty when you’re mad.”
Nathan froze. That hit deep. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. His body wouldn’t respond. He breathed in deeply then let it out. He turned, walked out of the library and sprinted away down the hall.
“Paris,” their teacher, Ms. Lansing, said harshly, “Go get him or you fail.”
Paris sighed heavily and left the library in search of Nathan.
Nathan sat on the floor in the boy’s restroom, one that was not commonly used. He was glad this was an early morning class. The restroom was still clean from the work of the janitors the night before. His knees were curled up to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around them while his tear streaked and make-up smeared face was buried in the fabric covering his knees.
Why did it have to be Paris? The first person to ever call him pretty just had to be that stupid jerk with no tact, no sense of subtlety and no respect for anyone else’s thoughts or feelings. He just said whatever he felt like saying and did whatever he felt like doing with no consideration to how that makes other people feel or how it affects them.
Nathan couldn’t stand Paris and his stupid... stupid-ness! He was such an asshole and Nathan hated... hated how nice it had felt to hear those words from someone’s mouth, even if that someone was Paris....
The door slammed open and Nathan flinched.
“Nathan, are you in here?” Paris’s voice rang through the tiled bathroom. Nathan held his breathe. He couldn’t face Paris like this, tears running down his face and make-up smudged around his eyes.
Paris walked over to the stall he was in and pushed the door open in a frustrated manner.
“This is the tenth room I’ve been in looking for you,” Paris said as he plopped down on the floor next to him, “God, why did you run off like that?”
Nathan didn’t look at him, just hid his face in his knees. He sniffed thickly and fought back his tears.
“Are you crying?” Paris’s voice was so uncaring. He was just annoyed. “What the hell, why are you crying? Does it upset you that much that I didn’t want to do the project? I mean, what the freaking heck, man? It’s just a stupid project. Five years from now, that project won’t matter so just get over it. Geez!”
Nathan shook his head. He looked up at Paris and tried to rub the smudges off of his face, “You called me pretty.”
“Yeah, so?”
That one comment made Nathan unable to fight back his tears. They ran down his face as he spoke brokenly, “You didn’t mean it. You don’t actually think I’m pretty. Those words don't mean anything to you. You throw them around like they’re worthless, just like all of those girls you sleep with. Well that word means something to me. Being called pretty is something special, something important and you ruined it. You dirtied it and made it worthless, just like everything else you do or say. Nothing is ever important to you.”
Paris didn’t know what to say. He just stared at Nathan with a confused, almost hurt expression on his face.
“My whole life,” breathed Nathan, “I’ve wanted someone to call me pretty. Then you did and it wasn’t supposed to be you. It was supposed to be something special.
Someone special was supposed to tell me I’m pretty. And that person was supposed to think I’m special. Not just some weird, stupid boy that dresses like a girl because he supposedly wants attention. Me. And they’d look at me and be like, “Wow, he's pretty.” and they would mean it. It would mean something to them.”
Still, Paris didn’t move. He barely reacted. He was... hurt by those words. He made things worthless? What right did Nathan have to say those things to him? Why did those words cut him so deep?
“You say I don’t care about those words. Well, I don’t. Words are just words so just get over your self. You say I make things worthless, well that’s because they already are,” Paris’s voice was hard and cold. Nathan had never seen him talk that way. “They are worth nothing and they mean nothing. I use those girls because they use me. They don’t want who I am, they want a hot body and a handsome face and bragging rights that they’ve been with a model. I mean nothing to them and they mean less to me. Get over it. No one thinks you’re special and no one thinks I’m special. Saying that everyone is special is just another way of saying that no one is. So don’t get so hurt by stupid little words that mean nothing because nothing means anything and the sooner you learn that, the better off you’ll be.”
Paris froze at the words that exited his mouth. Nathan was watching him and he looked scared, frightened... terrified. Neither moved. Paris looked like he was about to throw up. He stared into Nathan’s eyes and shook his head, “I didn’t mean that. None of it, I didn’t.”
“Who did mean it?” Nathan asked softly. If something bothered Paris, it was something important. Paris shrugged off everything. He didn’t get angry or stressed out so when he was serious, it was not something to take lightly.
Licking his lips, Paris stared down at the ground, “Does it even matter?”
“It does to you. And that’s what matters.”
Paris’s voice broke as he stared at the tiled floor, “Do you think I’m special?” He voice was barely above a whisper.
“I think that you’re very special. You don’t give yourself enough credit. And you hide too much pain inside.”
Paris looked up at Nathan. Then leaned in and kissed his lips. It started of soft, gentle, chaste... but Paris quickly deepened it, running his fingers through Nathan’s long hair, holding the back of this neck and using it to pull the effeminate boy closer.
Nathan felt a billion emotions at once and he cherished all of them. He felt... amazing. He couldn’t describe what he was feeling; he just knew that he never, ever wanted it to stop.
The bell rang and Paris broke the kiss. He helped Nathan stand up with him the held his face as he gently rubbed the smeared eyeliner away from underneath his eyes.
Nathan smiled up at him and stood and his toes to kiss him again.
As two other boys entered the restroom, Paris pushed him away roughly, slamming him into the concrete wall behind him.
“What the hell, you little fag?!” Paris shouted.
“Hey, Paris, you alright?” asked one of the boys.
“This homo just tried to kiss me!” he yelled, his voice angry, barely masking over his fear. “Listen you little queer,” he yelled at Nathan, “I’m not gay and even if I was I would never want some androgynous freak like you!”
Nathan felt like he’d died. Everything was cold and he felt pain, constant, screaming pain. He pushed away from the wall he’d been slammed against and ran. He pushed through the crowds of people and ran right out the doors past his teachers. He cut straight across the parking lot, dodging cars until he made it to his neighborhood, right next to the school. He cut through back yards and ran on the sidewalk where he made it home.
He hadn’t stopped running till he got home. He’d left all of his stuff at school, but he didn’t care. He unlocked the door with the key under the welcome mat and went inside.
He slammed the front door shut and collapsed to the ground, crying so hard, he thought he would break.