Petr stared intently at the back of the head of the boy in front of him, his eyes lost in a dreamy haze that could not be deterred.

The boy in front of him had black, curly hair—which shone beautifully in the sunlight. Even from his seat a foot or so away, Petr could smell those locks, scented like the heavy, manly musk boys wore nowadays. The boy had an exquisite name—Claude.

Claude was perhaps the most attractive boy attending West High, Petr assumed, because whenever he came into view, Petr could not get enough of his looks. Claude had the most wide, yet charming smile, behind thin rosy lips. His nose was long and crooked, but the dent was attractive to Petr, who stared at it anyhow.

But Claude had the most glorious eyes. They were set on his face on a perfect distance on either side of his nose. Deep green nearly blended into the dark center of his eye, and above each were heavy lids. Although barely visible, one could tell if Claude was studying them, and Petr's heart nearly burst in his chest when the boy gave him a look. His eyebrows were large, yet plucked perfectly, and gave him expression, which suited Claude perfectly as he was a very good actor in the drama club.

But, compared the Claude, Petr decided that he himself were too plain to dwell on hopes Claude would notice him someday. However, today, Petr sought out a chair behind Claude, and parked himself very close to desk so he was nearly spilling over the surface. This way, Petr could study Claude at a better angle. But Petr had to be discreet.

The students he found himself around didn't take kindly to him. They always looked for excuses to call him names. Why were kids so terrible? But Petr didn't have time to dote on this; he needed time to acquaint himself to the back of Claude's beautiful head.

So Petr sat there, with his hands holding up his head, pretending he was listening to lecture. His face revealed none of the expression he desperately wanted to show as he breathed in Claude's cologne and took in the boy's lovely hair. Instead, when one would look over to Petr, he looked as though he were deeply in thought, and just happened to be sitting very close to his desk and staring deeply into the back of a random boy's head. No one took this as any fault in Petr, and so, the boy was safe.

But the bell rang, interrupting the teacher as well as making her jolt up in the air. Petr was not at all fazed by the bell, and held his breath in anticipation as Claude began to rise from his seat to collect his things to put into his black book-bag. Perhaps Claude will drop a pencil which would roll conveniently under Petr's chair. Politely, the boy would ask Petr if he could retrieve it for him. Petr would smile and nod, bending down gracefully to hand the raven haired boy the pencil. Maybe their hands would touch and Petr could finally feel his rough, hard worked fingers.

But Claude slowly stowed away his pencils and pens in a case, dropping them in the large pocket of his book-bag. He quietly stuffed his notebooks away as a girl approached him. Petr quickly acted as though he were packing up as well as the two began to chat.

"What are you doing after school today?" the girl asked. She had a large wad of pink gum in her mouth that she munched on loudly, and every time she popped the gum, both Claude and Petr would flinch. Petr had a mind to think that Claude was also annoyed of the girl, and tried to avoid her whenever she approached him. But today he was not quite fast enough.

Claude stretched his long, muscled arms high into the air. "I have soccer," he replied, and Petr's heart raced as he caught a glance of the boy's midriff, "until five."

The girl curled a lock of hair around her long, neon painted finger, "Ohh…" she said, smacking her gum three more times, "What about goin' out to dinner with me?"

Petr watched as Claude's face drained of color. He could tell the boy was simply not interested, but he didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings either.

"My mom is making my favorite dinner tonight, so, maybe some other time, okay?" he said, flashing her a smile she couldn't refuse.

The girl giggled a haughty duck-like snort before nodding and turning on her heels and walking toward to the door out to the hallway. "Okay, Claude," she said nasally, smacking her gum twice, "I'll see you tomorrow! Or text me!" she puckered her fat, poorly lip-stick applied lips before skipping off into the mass of students in the hallway.

Claude waited for her to disappear before dropping the smile and shaking his head.

It then occurred to Petr that he and Claude were the only ones in the room, besides the teacher who seated herself in her desk up front. What would have been a wish come true to be alone with the angel actually turned out to be awkward. Petr hadn't realized that he had nearly glued himself to the chair so he could monitor the conversation. Now everyone had left the room. Claude probably thinks I'm a creep now, Petr thought to himself, his face burning crimson. He pressed his forehead against the desk.

"You sick or something?" Claude's voice danced through his ears. Immediately Petr looked up into those glowing eyes. The boy's face actually appeared concerned for his well-being. Petr opened his mouth to reply, but no words came through. "Your face is so red," Claude continued, "Do you want me to get a teacher?"

Petr shook his head, almost violently. "Oh no! I'm really fine!" he exclaimed, getting up from his seat and pulling his back pack unto his shoulder. He tugged on the collar of his shirt, trying to let some hot hair escape that permeated from his chest.

Claude smirked a little. "Well, okay," he said, "well…"

"I'm Petr," Petr announced, holding out a red hand. Oh no, he thought suddenly. His hands were so clammy, sweaty even. But Claude clasped it and shook it. Oh, Petr went on, they are so smooth yet so calloused.

"Claude."

The two stood there in the classroom, shaking each other's hands.

It was at this moment that Petr noticed Claude's height; the boy must be at least five inches taller than he—around 5'8, perhaps.

Claude raised an eyebrow as the hand-shaking went on for a few more unneeded moments. He withdrew his hand from a disappointed Petr, smiling confusedly. "Well," he said, "I'm going to soccer."

"Me too," Petr chimed, without thinking.

"You're in soccer? Here at school?" Claude asked, "I've never seen you on the team before. And we're halfway into the season."

"Oh," Petr was sure he was an even brighter shade of red.

"Maybe you're in club soccer then," Claude said as he slung his book-bag over his shoulder. Petr nodded eagerly.

"Yes, yes! That's what I meant," Petr laughed, "Yes. I'm a… defender."

To be honest, Petr had a crippling fear of soccer. His sister played the sport quite well, and often dragged the family across town to the complex to watch her play. But when Petr was eight, a soccer ball struck the back of his head while he attended one of his sister's games, and was knocked about for ten minutes. When he came to, he was sprawled across the ground, with the entire girls' team looking over him, one girl spouting apologies. As he sat up, Petr realized he had wet himself while he was knocked out. He began to sob uncontrollably, embarrassed.

But that didn't matter. Claude was interested in him now, and Petr wanted to retain his interest for as long as possible.

"That's funny, I'm a defender too—a sweeper," Claude said, beginning to walk slowly for the hallway, beckoning Petr to walk with him. "We have two hour practices. When do you get done?"

"Uhh… four thirty. Club practices are not as hard as high school practices, I'm sure," Petr said, walking fast to catch up with Claude, "But we do a lot of drills, none stop."

Claude nodded. "Yeah, our coach is a killer, I think." The two approached a fork in the hallway. "Well, I have to go now. It was nice meeting you, I guess," Claude said, smiling and waving as he turned right.

"Oh!" Petr said, "Yeah, it was nice… maybe we can sit together tomorrow and discuss… soccer?"

Claude nodded and continued down the hallway, disappearing down a length of stairs.

But Petr didn't continue on his way; he simply stood there in the hallway, students dodging around him. His heart melted into his lungs as it warmed him up to think Claude was going to carry out a conversation with him tomorrow.

"I saw that."

Petr didn't know why he heard this above all the other chatter in the hallway, but the grand feeling that filled his whole being suddenly disappeared. His knees grew weak and cold as he turned around to face his big brother Ripper.

The kid was draped against the lockers, staring intently at Petr. His mouth was curled into a hideous smirk. Slowly, Ripper stood straight up on his feet, towering over his poor little brother. A girl who was talking to him intently noticed his interest and gave Petr an awful glare.

"Come here, Petr," Ripper demanded slowly, crossing his arms.

But Petr stood still, quivering horribly. Some students noticed him and pushed past him, growling that he shouldn't stand in the middle of the hallway like a dumbass.

Ripper began to grow angry. "What the fuck are you doing?" he snapped, "Get the hell over here."

Petr took a step forward, knowing that if he didn't abide to his brother's rules now that he would suffer more in the future. But a step was as far as he went.

The girl beside Ripper laughed. "Jack, you got him so scared that he can't move a foot!" she guffawed loudly like a horse—and had the teeth to match.

Ripper hushed her and quickly approached Petr, throwing a kid out of his way in the process.

Petr stepped back a ways, but Ripper lashed out a hand and took the kid by his collar. Students began to notice the scuffle being caused, and subsequently filed around the two, chanting 'Fight! Fight!'.

"Listen," Ripper said, gnashing his teeth, "I'm gonna tell Claude you got a thing for him."

"No!" Petr cried, clawing at his brother's hands.

Ripper hooted a cackle. "And I'm gonna tell Mom and Dad that you're gay," he went on. Petr searched the people around him, desperately hoping that they couldn't hear what Ripper was saying. But the students all stood with their mouths agape.

"A faggot? At our school?!"

"We've been so careful with that sort of thing!"

"How blasphemous!"

"Get him, Jack! Beat'em up!"

The students cheered Ripper on, and Petr pressed his hands to his face to cover his burning cheeks and watering eyes. He peeked through his fingers, watching in horror as his brother lifted a tight fist and all the while the students jeering and yelling and laughing.

Petr could feel that fist rip through him, breaking his bones, shattering his face.

It all seemed like an unrealistic, dreary dream, and then Petr realized it and sat up in bed with a start, sweat pooling down his face and making rings around his pits. He grasped the world around him, identifying his bed, desk and bureau. He casted a glare at the door, which was a crack open, light seeping into his otherwise dark room from the hallway.

Carefully, Petr got up and closed the door completely, leaning against it. He sighed and sank to the floor, raising his eyes out the window. The world was dark and blue; cloudy and gloomy as rain came down in thick, icy sheets. Cars splashed down the street.

Suddenly, Petr heard a door open in the hallway. He slid to his left, pressing himself closer against the wall as he quietly opened the door a crack, light again splashing his face. It was Ripper, groggily slumping against the wall as he walked down the hallway and into the bathroom.

Petr sneered at his brother before closing the door again and getting up to lay back down in his warm bed. He buried his head under his pillow, cursing himself.

I hate my life… he moaned to himself, feigning typical teenage angst.

Suddenly there were a few knocks on the door, but he didn't stir.

He heard his mom begin to sing , "Wakey wakey!" as she opened his door and crept into his room. She sat down next to him on his bed, gently caressing his back.

"Want some breakfast?" she asked.

Petr mumbled something.

"Eggs and toast?" Mom pressed, uncovering Petr's head from the pillow. She bent down and kissed the back of his head.

Petr mumbled again.

"Okay sweetie, I'll make you some breakfast. Better hurry and get ready for school," Mom said sweetly, rising from the bed and walking out of the room, leaving the light from the hallway to glare into Petr's face.