THE STIGMA (BOYS DON'T CRY.)

. D A Y E I G H T .

Everybody was dead silent, you could hear a pin drop. The bruised and battered boy raised his arm up, shaking and terrified of Sir- but I mean, who wouldn't after you got beaten the shit out of you for something you didn't do? 

"What is it, boy?" Sir mumbled.

"C-Can I-I b-be ex-exc-excused?" He stuttered. Waving his wrinkly old hand, he told him to make it quick. Patty and Ben looked at the deadly thin boy as he walked passed, quickly letting go of their hands so he could walk by before holding it again. Patty had finished his anxiety attack half an hour ago, but they still held hands. There was something about holding Patty's hand that Ben loved. Was it his soft skin? His small hands as if they were custom made for him? Who knows, but Ben savored every moment, because he didn't know when he could hold his hand again. 

Another half hour passed, and the skinny, bruised and battered boy hasn't returned yet.

"What's taking the boy so long?" Sir asked, looking at Patty. From the spot he was sitting at, he couldn't see Ben and Patty holding hands. Which Ben loved, because he didn't want to let go of Patty's hand.

"I-I don't kn-know," Patty stuttered. Ben gave his hand another squeeze to help him ease the anxiety. Patty cleared his throat before talking again, "I don't know, Sir." Sir got up from his desk and marched out the back doors, Patty and Ben letting hands go in case he saw. Once the door slammed shut, Patty did something no one in the room had the balls to. Nobody expected such a gold star student to do something like that before.

Let's just say, nobody would ever look at Patty the same way again...