Safer This Way

Chapter 5

Alright, the last couple chapters were pretty dark and serious, so here's a little time with the boys before reality sets back in :) Thank you so much for voting and commenting, I love to read your reactions, also holy cow I hit 100 followers yesterday! You guys are amazing :) Happy reading!!

*Gabriel*

I fucking hate this school.

"Hey fag!" Those words are all these adolescent neanderthals seem to be able to come up with, well that and shoving me into lockers, and why? Because I have more style in my pinkie toe than they do in their steroid infused bodies, either that or they're afraid of how hot they think I am. All I know is that I'm done with it, and I can't fucking wait until this assignment, and this whole fucked up place, is well behind us.

Homeroom only just let out and already today I've been shoved, hit, ridiculed, and shamed all because I don't fit the status quo, something that their tiny little peanut brains just can't seem to fathom. If it weren't for my team, my eight brothers from other mothers, I would have snapped by now, but alas I have them and I'm confident enough in myself to push past the dumb fucks' words and do my motherfucking job.

With a huff, I flop down into a chair near Kota in this shitty excuse for a classroom We're in a fucking trailer because this shitty ass school doesn't have any fucking money to deal with so many fucking students.

"Hey, are you alright?" A weak, but familiar voice jolts me from my, as Owen would call them, "irreverent thoughts" and turn to see Shaw Sorenson looking at me with concern. Is it wrong that all I can think of is the fact that his hair is fucking perfect even with this shitty trailer lighting? It's just not right.

When I don't say anything, his frown deepens, and I feel the inexplicable urge to soothe away all his worries, which is just fucking weird. Not wanting to think too closely on that last thought, I say the first thing that I can think of.

"Can I touch your hair?" Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Now the poor guy just looks confused, can't say I blame him, I am too. "My hair?" He asks, and for a second he just kind of blinks at me,sort of like an owl if I really think about it.

Deciding I've already made an ass of myself, I just go with it. "Yeah, it's fucking amazing, all those different shades of color; some brown, different blondes, and I think I even see a little red thrown in there. It's not even styled either, I can tell and it still looks fucking perfect, do you dye it?" Wow, that was a lot of words.

Surprising the hell out of me though, Shaw actually blushes, I didn't think people did that anymore, sure as fuck not in this school, but then again he seems completely different from any of the others.

Someone shouts across the room and he seems to snap out of whatever thought he was having, suddenly realizing that he's still standing in the aisle so he takes the seat next to me. "My sister says it's like a dirty blonde or something, and no I don't dye it, don't really do much with it actually. I try not to focus on my hair too much nowadays," something almost sad crosses his face when he says this, but it's gone so fast I start to think I imagined it. "And no, I don't dye it." Too fucking right, it looks too healthy and soft to be color treated, lucky son of a bitch.

"Or something is fucking right, your sister needs to get her fucking eyes checked because that, my friend-" I motion to the fucking glorious mop on top of his head "-is what I like to call chameleon hair." It gives me a strange sort of satisfaction to watch the red color rise to his pale cheeks yet again, makes me want to keep complimenting him so it stays.

We fall silent again when I realize he never fucking answered my original question. "So...?" I prompt and he looks confused again before I mime messing with my hair and his face clears before he gives me a hesitant nod.