Chapter Text
Simon Mould had beautiful eyes.
This was something Edwin had kept to himself, knowing how the other boys would look at him, the whispers intensifying, the rumours that often spread like wildfire, if Edwin were to make the mistake of speaking his thoughts.
But, that did not stop them from growing.
A neglected thing, trying so hard to grow towards the light, stretching its energy far beyond what it was meant to.
Edwin Payne knew those thoughts were to be ignored, to be snuffed out.
Yet, they continued to grow like wildfire.
Simon Mould would often look at Edwin, and Edwin did not know what to make of his gaze. The way it lingered just a second too long, so Edwin would noticed.
The way Simon looked almost, hungry, if that were the correct word for it.
Edwin did not like to think about the feeling that rest in his stomach, the want, the need that he was so good at ignoring.
There was no reason to look Simon Mould in the eyes, yet, often times, when Edwin raised his head, Simon’s eyes caught his.
Stretching, stretching, for the chance to reach the sunlight.
A single moment of daylight, making up for the lifetime of darkness.
It was unusual, right? To keep finding another boy’s gaze on him, blue eyes picking him apart until they found what they were looking for.
Constantly looking, searching, watching, for what Edwin could never guess.
It was not as if Simon Mould were particularly kind to Edwin, it was not as if Edwin could trust him to be a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on.
No, Edwin knew he was quite alone in that regard, too odd, offputting, rude, to be considered worthy of friendship.
Edwin had long since accepted that he was not friendship material, he was not quite, normal, enough, to be considered anything more than what he was.
It was a surprise, the day a hand caught his bag, and tugged him along.
Edwin was quite use to freeing himself from these sorts of situations, to get free and run, lest he be the recipient to something he did not want.
No one would care, if he were the victim. No one would listen, or believe him. He would deserve it, in many of his classmates’, his teachers’, eyes.
A door was opened, and Edwin had just managed to free his arm from the strap when the door closed.
His breath caught-
Simon Mould looked at him, a second passed, then suddenly Edwin’s vision was filled.
Chapped lips pressed against his own.
Edwin felt sparks light in his chest, bursting forth until he was warm from head to toe, until he felt ready to float.
It was strange, to feel so entirely in your body for the first time, while also drifting away. As if this was exactly where he was meant to be in thise moment, and no where else.
Edwin knew about the rumours that were spread about him.
How his eyes wandered where they should not, for too long.
Edwin had learned, some time ago, to keep his eyes averted.
To not meet another’s gaze, to keep his thoughts buried.
Had forced himself to learn what was staring, waht was too long, too odd. What spoke of things he barely understood himself.
What would trigger another’s anger before they figured it out.
Edwin had never been kissed before.
Had not known that he would be able to taste the other’s mouth.
Edwin did not allow himself the fantasy of reading romance novels, his classmates turning their nose as Charlotte Brontë, Emily Brontë, and Jane Austen were mentioned in their classes. It was not as if his teachers enjoyed them either, but they were important.
Charlotte Brontë had written under a pseudonym, after all. To have her words heard.
They had read Romeo and Juliet one day, when his teacher fancied himself a Shakespeare expert who would force the school boys to appreciate sonnets.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Simon was hot, his hands branding Edwin’s sides, his face, as his lips pressed and tongue searched, as Edwin stood making pathetic noises that he could not bite back.
It was not like he wanted to, not really.
Simon had filled every sense that Edwin fancied himself having, his hands and scent and taste, pouring into Edwin.
Filling that odd spot inside of his chest that he hadn’t known was empty, not until it was filled.
Simon pulled away, and Edwin tried to follow him, but a hand kept him in place.
He felt pathetic.
Probably looked pathetic as well.
“Class is starting soon,” Simon said quietly, gently. Like he were laying Edwin down in a soft bed of flowers, rather than snogging him senseless in a cupboard that smelled of old mop.
Edwin swallowed. “I have maths, you know that never starts on time.”
Simon looked at him, his hooded eyes searching for something, and Edwin wasn’t sure if he found it. “Best not chance it.”
Simon pulled fully away, Edwin feeling oddly cold without his intense heat, before placing his hand on the doorknob. “You go first, then I’ll come out in a bit. Don’t want anyone thinking they saw anything, do we?”
Edwin nodded, and tried to ignore the heaviness in his heart.
So long lives this, and gives life to thee.