the book of fluff (that usually isn't)

twisted beauty

i'm sorry i'm really messed up

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

trigger warning: anorexia, depression, blood, self-harm, and severe mentions of self-harm

"Hello, Scott. Sit down." Coach Olusola gestured to the chair across from his desk. "We need to discuss your grades."

Scott refrained from rolling his eyes and slipped his backpack off so he could take a seat in the chair. "Yes, sir."

"So, as I'm sure you know, you cannot have a failing grade in a class if you want to continue playing on this team," Kevin started, "and you are failing math. As you're our star player, I'd really rather not lose you, so I've discussed it with Ms. Maldonado and she's agreed to get one of our National Honors Society tutors to tutor you. You have until the end of the semester to get your grades up."

Scott sighed, but he nodded. "Yes, sir. Will I still be able to play until then?"

"Yes, as long as you start keeping up with your work. You will be tutored every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school, starting tomorrow. The National Honors Society president assigned Mitch Grassi to tutor you, and you can meet him today during lunch to discuss where you'll do it."

Scott was prepared to groan, but when he heard that name, he smirked a bit. Mitch was bullied and he didn't have any friends — Scott probably wouldn't know who he was at all if they didn't have a few classes together — so as a result, Scott figured he could easily convince Mitch to let him fuck him whenever he wanted. He'd always thought Mitch was hot. "Yes, sir."

"That's all for today, Scott. I'll see you at practice."

Scott nodded and left, already plotting how he'd seduce Mitch.

+++

At lunchtime, Scott headed to the library to meet up with Mitch. It took him a moment to find the small boy, but he headed over to him once he'd spotted him in the corner and coolly sat down beside him. "Hey."

Mitch jumped and looked up. "Oh, h-hi. You're ready for our meeting?"

Scott had never heard Mitch talk before. His voice was soft and melodic and Scott couldn't wait to hear what it sounded like moaning. "Yep. Where do you want to do it?"

Mitch shrugged and nervously fidgeted with his sleeves. "I'm okay with wherever," he murmured. "Some students prefer it to be at Starbucks or another restaurant, some want it here, others want it at their houses. It's up to you, really."

Scott smirked. "Would my house be okay?"

Mitch nodded. "Yeah. I'll need your address, though. What times work for you?"

"I have practice from right after school to five, so maybe from six thirty to eight? Is that okay?"

Mitch nodded again. "Mhm. Um, I guess I should give you my number." His hands, shaking slightly, finally emerged from his sleeves to tear a piece of paper from his notebook and jot down his phone number. "Here," he whispered, giving the paper to Scott. "Text me your address sometime before I come tomorrow, please. Y-You can go eat now."

Scott nodded and stood. "Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess." He left without another word.

+++

That Friday, Mitch left for Scott's house around five. He didn't have a car and it was quite a long walk, but Mitch didn't want to bother his parents by asking for a ride. Plus, he knew he could always burn more calories, and this was a good way to do it.

When he finally arrived, he pulled his sleeves over his hands and reached up to knock. Scott opened the door before long, and he smiled at the sight, subtlely raking his eyes up and down Mitch's body. "Hey. Come in." He stepped aside, and Mitch obediently came inside, holding his books tighter to his chest.