-ˏˋ OH SWEETEST BOY - C.S ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
✎ᝰ. previous part ﹠au masterlist .ᐟ.ᐟ cw: smoking, abuse, angst
he is standing by his locker, rumbling through the different book and left over chips bags. his jaw is clenched, his eyes squinted slightly into a frustrated expression.
he knows he put it here, but somehow it has seemed to disappear.
he slams his locker close, a bit too harsh, making the people who already thought he was a freak glance at him with even more judgement.
he sighs and throws his backpack over one shoulder, walking towards the exit of the school.
when he’s met with the fresh outside air, his body seems to relax the tiniest bit. he sighs shakingly and reaches in his pocket, pulling out several coins.
he counts them, jaw clenching a bit harder each time when he only sees useless pennies.
he runs a hand through his messy hair, putting the coins back in his pocket and trying to forget them.
and then he feels that same tap on his shoulder, the touch one of the softest kinds. he turns around, being met with your kind eyes.
you send him a small smile, which he doesn’t return. he just raises both his brows in silence, as if asking what the hell you want.
you reach into your back pocket. his eyes widen slightly when he sees you reveal a ten dollar bill, and he glances back up at your eyes, his facade seeming to have fallen the slightest bit.
you smile. the paper is balancing in between your pointer and middle finger as you reach it out for him.
he just stares at it, not attempting to grab it. you let out a small chuckle.
hes taken aback in any way possible, not understanding and certaining not knowing how to handle this kindness.
he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, like he wants you to disappear on your own, and that is confusing you further.
you pull your hand back when he doesn’t take the bill and glance up at him, meeting those cold emotionless blue eyes. you let out a shaky sigh before shrugging.
“okay, i’ll text you probably, about the project.”
he doesn’t react once again, and you walk past him, but not before gently patting his shoulder, something that makes the poor boy flinch.
when you’re out of sight, chris allows himself to breathe again. he tries to think why anyone would offer him such a big gift, it’s not like the two of you are talking often. well, you’re the only person he’s ever talked to besides his parents, so for him that alone is already a big deal.
he shakes his head, beginning to walk again, his worn off converses slumping over the ground.
he reaches in his front pocket, which to be fair surprises him in the first place. he never puts stuff there, but somehow in this moment he is drawn towards it.
he lets his fingers brush the inside fabric of his jeans, and then he freezes. he feels something, maybe a note of some kind, since he feels thin paper brushing against his finger tips.
he pulls his hand out, and his heart skips a beat when he sees he holds a 10 dollar bill.
he stares at it, feeling his heart fasten in such an uncomfortable way, it makes his body shiver.
he looks back over his shoulder, a weak attempt to maybe catch your gaze again, but of course you’ve disappeared, leaving him confused.
later that same afternoon he finds himself in the tiny shop on the corner, the same old man behind the counter as always, a big cigar in his mouth.
the old man gives chris a friendly nod, putting out the cigar and already reaching under the counter to reveal a pack of cheap cigarettes.
chris comes here every other day. he has learned the man’s name by now, not because the man told him, but because he kept glancing at the keys dangling out of the man’s pocket.
and after a while, after he kept stealing glances at his pocket over the weeks, he finally could make out the name on the card that was attached to them.
chris hands the man the same ten dollar bill that was in your hands a few moments ago. the old fella takes it, puts it in the cash register drawer and slides the pack of cigarettes over the counter towards chris, who takes it eagerly and stores them in his back pocket.
he murmurs and the man laughs lowly, showing chris his yellow and rotten teeth. he gives chris a wave, which he surprisingly returns, before he walks out of the shop.
he crosses the street, walking automatically towards the park that is near his house.
he finds the same bench, hidden slightly behind all the greens and leaves. chris sits down, pulling out his cigarettes once again and his lighter.
he unwraps the seal carefully, and he finds himself admiring this pack more than all the others.
not because it’s a different brand, not because its a value pack. no, it’s because after all you indirectly gifted this to him, and that same uncomfortable feeling appears in his chest once again, something he has never felt before.
it’s both suffocating and terrifying, but it’s there, and he can’t avoid it anymore.
after a cigarette or two he walks around the park until he reaches home. he walks up the narrow stairs of his apartment building, approaches his door and opens it, being met with the same mess and silence like always.
he walks around his house, on the way to his room he picks up empty cans and bottles, stubbed out cigarettes and left over fast food packages.
he checks if his mother is home, which she isnt, of course, and he wonders if she’ll even get home tonight.
he slumps towards his room, plopping down on the bed and kicking his shoes off. he sighs, pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through random platforms.
he then notices your number saved in his phone, and he can’t help but click on your profile picture, zooming in and wondering why the hell you would want to be partners with him for a schools project and why you would even talk to him in the first place.
it’s getting darker and darker outside, and he’s been staring at his phone for hours now. he already warmed up a microwave meal for himself, since his mother still hasn’t shown her face.
and then suddenly he hears the door unlock, followed by a loud bang. he sighs when he hears various stumbling around, expecting nothing more.
after a short moment of silence, he hears his name, loud, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel an icy shiver run down his spine.
he hesitantly pads out of his room, being met with his mothers glazed over eyes, her expression frustrated as she holds up the empty package of the microwave meal he heated up for himself.
“how many fucking times do i have to tell you that you need to keep your filthy hands off my stuff?!”
she spats, every word coated in a deep layer of disgust as she speaks with a slurred speech.
chris nibbles on his lip, wanting to speak up. he wants to say that this house is of them both, he wants to say that every month he helps paying rent, he wants to say that he buys groceries too,
but the last time he said something, he received a slap, so he keeps his mouth shut.
but of course, just like always, his mothers mood is unstable, whatever he tries, it’s never enough.
her hand meets his face, leaving a stinging red mark on his cheek. he stares at her emotionless, while she throws the empty package on the ground.
“fucking useless.” she slurs, breath smelling like alcohol, weed and god knows what else.
she stumbles on her heels towards the couch, sinking into the pillows, her eyes half lidded.
“clean that up.” his mother mumbles to him from the couch, grabbing a beer can from the ground and pouring the last liquid into her mouth.
chris swallows, rubbing his cheek to soothe the stinging pain. he leans down to pick up the mess, his mothers words never stopping.
“and act like a good son for once, because you’re not doing anything..” she lets out a heartless scoff.
“why can’t you look more like your dad, follow his path.” she mumbles coldly, and chris quickly wipes a tear out of his face, continuing to clean up the mess.
a/n i’m working on making my chapters longer ayeee 🙏 also two posts because i really missed u all <3