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Description
Carlisle was sitting with his back to the door, his blond hair ruffled back away from his eyes. He watched his class mate twirl around on the gym floor, his thin legs and arms gracefully cutting the air. The emotion on his face surprised Carlisle, not because each expression changed to accommodate the music, but for the fact that it was there at all. This boy in front of him normally was closed off, angry, and icy cold, but now, almost like magic, he was a living, breathing human being. It was almost like a light had clicked on inside of him as soon as he hit play on his CD player. This was a part of him Carlisle never gotten to see, a part that he hadn’t even known about till now.
He turned and Carlisle knew he was caught. Kristoff came to a sudden stop, his arms dropping to his sides like great hunks of wood, his legs fastening to the floor, and he face falling into a wooden look. He was more a tree then a human within seconds.
“What the hell do you want?” Kristoff hissed as he clicked his player off. Carlisle flinched at the harsh tone of his voice. It was hateful and Carlisle wished he knew why Kristoff disliked him so much.
Ignoring the question Carlisle slid up to his feet and gave a real smile. “You’re really good,” he pointed out as he pushed back his coppery hair, which did nothing but dishevel it again. Kristoff glared like Carlisle was breathing the plague all over him, his chocolate brown eyes nothing but slits in his pale face.
“Go away,” he snapped.
“Why?” Kristoff sputtered and ended up red faced with no real excuse. Carlisle raised his eyebrows, baiting the boy. “Well?”
“F-you,” Kris replied with true cruelty. Carlisle winced. God, what the hell did he do? On normal circumstances he would snap back, walk out, and rant about the boy with the giant pole up his butt to Andy, his best friend, but this wasn’t normal. No, he was trying to be nice to Kristoff, trying to be friends with him. Why? Well, he hadn’t quite figured it out farther then that he was curious about him and the fact that he had started hanging out with Kristoff’s group of friends recently. Well, there was one other reason…
“How long have you been dancing?” Carlisle asked patiently. Kristoff clenched his left fist, his other hand pulling the ponytail out of his shaggy black hair. Suddenly his pale face was eaten by the black strands and the pretty boy Carlisle saw dancing was completely gone. In his place was a scared kid with bruises up his bare arms; bruises that almost looked like fingers.
“Don’t you get it?” Kristoff was nearly crying out the words. “Whatever sick game you’re trying to play with me, it’s not funny and it’s going to hurt. So just f**king leave me alone.”
Carlisle raised his hands as if trying to calm Kris down. “Kristoff, I’m not trying anything, okay? I’m not going to trick you, or whatever you are thinking. I’m not like James or…even Andy. I just want to be friends.” Kristoff shook his head. Carlisle crumpled a little. For a moment he could almost see the damage his friends had done to Kristoff. The bullying, the harassment, and the laughter, all the things Carlisle had never participated in, but never tried to stop. He could see the scars caused by fear all over Kristoff’s tiny body. Suddenly Kristoff moved and the illusion was shattered.
“Says the wolf to red-riding hood,” Kris spat as he unplugged his CD player with a hard tug, ripping the plug out of the socket so hard it ended up snapping Kristoff in the leg. Carlisle wondered if he even felt it, or if Kristoff had become immune to pain, because it seemed like it. Actually, he sometimes felt like Kristoff was numbed to the world, and maybe he was since the world didn’t seem to like him much. His attitude wasn’t helping anything, either.
“Can you even pretend to be nice?” Carlisle found himself spouting. “Or are you always cold and angry?” He didn’t say it meanly, but there was an edge to his voice. Actually, it was more of a challenging tone then an edge.
Kris blinked for a moment, the eyeliner on his lids giving him almost a cartoonish look. “No, because I’m not you. I don’t need to pretend.”
“Then why are you?” Bam. It was like Carlisle hit him in the stomach. Kristoff suddenly look pale and fragile. For a moment Carlisle had a strange urge to go hold Kristoff, to make the pain in him better, to be that friend he needed, but Carlisle knew if he got even one step closer Kristoff would bolt like a scared animal.
“You have no idea what I have to go through,” Kristoff whispered as he shook his head. As if on instinct he touched his bruised arms. Carlisle looked at the marks, the ones usually hidden by Kris’s black hoodies, and felt sick. They looked new and old, a patchwork quilt of abuse.
“Who did that?” Carlisle found himself asking softly. He looked at Kristoff with his soft amber-brown eyes. Kristoff looked at his arms, blanched, and dived for the studded jacket on the gym’s rubbery floor. He pulled it around him like a lifesaver.
“None of your business,” Kristoff murmured. He looked scared.
Carlisle shook his head. “They may not be,” Carlisle agreed, “and I won’t tell.” Kristoff’s eyes widened and he looked almost relieved, and then his expression went stone cold again.
“Whatever,” he breathed.
“No, really, I won’t. As you said, it’s none of my business.” For now, Carlisle thought as Kristoff looked sideways at him. Kristoff shook his head. Carlisle didn’t know if he believe or not, but either way, Kristoff was letting it slid, for now.
There was a long pause where Kristoff packed up his player. Carlisle watched him. Even with out the music he could see the dancer in the other boy. He wondered how he never noticed how smoothly Kristoff could move. Almost like each muscle in his body had choreographed each action and practiced it till each movement was perfect. In a sense, now that Carlisle thought about it, Kris probably had.
Kristoff turned and look surprised that Carlisle was still standing there. “Really, Carlisle, what are you doing here?” He sounded tired, too tired to be a brat. Carlisle smiled to himself.
“Heard the music and saw you,” Carlisle answered. “You are really good.” Instead of yelling now, Kristoff looked away. He appeared conflicted with anger starting to boil up under the surface again. Finally he looked back up and his expression was curious.
“You’re really being nice, aren’t you?” He stared at Carlisle and for once it wasn’t with hate.
“Yep.”
Kristoff breathed out a sigh. “I wish you were like the others so at least I could feel good when I hate you. You’re making it so damn hard too, though.” Carlisle raised his eyebrows and he suddenly wanted to hug him, but he didn’t because he knew Kristoff would shatter into pieces at his touch.
“Just don’t hate me then,” Carlisle stated. Kris looked at the ground.
“I can’t because if I don’t I would….” Kris cut off.
“Would what?”
Kristoff bit his lip. “I can’t say,” he muttered threw closed lips. He shook his head, his black hair flying around his face. Carlisle looked in Kristoff’s dark eyes and he saw his answer deep in them. Carlisle was stunned, but he had known all along. Known why Kristoff was hard and cold to him, why he wouldn’t surrender, wouldn’t give up a one sided fight.
Before Carlisle could think himself out of doing it, or before Kristoff relapsed back into his ass of a self, he crossed the gab between them. Kristoff didn’t even have time to shoot his mouth off before Carlisle kissed him full on the lips.
Carlisle felt Kris go ridged and his pale hands grab his shoulders as if they were going push Carlisle away, but he felt Kristoff pause. Something in Kristoff seemed to soften and give in. He could feel Kristoff’s body leaning into him.
Suddenly Carlisle realized this was the first time. Not the kissing part, he had done it in the past, but the kissing a boy part was new. Years ago he never would have thought of doing it. He had never thought of it when Andy threw bashing insults in Kris’s face, yelling fag down the halls, but now he knew he would. He knew when Andy jokingly called Kristoff a fairy Andy was also calling him one, too. And now he knew how much it hurt.
Kris suddenly pushed him away, hard. Carlisle tripped over his feet and fell, his butted thumping against the gym floor. He looked at Kristoff and the boy had gone sheet white, his lined eyes big, his black lipstick smeared, and his breath coming ragged. He touched his mouth.
“Why did you…?”
“Kristoff…” Kristoff’s face collapsed. He turned and ran. Carlisle watched his black clad figure hit the gym door, the noise of him smacking the metal echoing in the big space. “Kristoff!” He actually stopped. Carlisle watched Kristoff turn and look over his shoulder. He looked like he had just seen his mother get hit by a semi.
“My…my friends can call me Kris.” He couldn’t look more shocked. Carlisle smiled and waved from the ground. Kris turned to leave again, this time a lot slower.
“Hey, Kris,” Carlisle called. Kris turned once more, slowly. “You’re a beautiful dancer, but I think I said that already.” He smiled.
And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Description
Carlisle was sitting with his back to the door, his blond hair ruffled back away from his eyes. He watched his class mate twirl around on the gym floor, his thin legs and arms gracefully cutting the air. The emotion on his face surprised Carlisle, not because each expression changed to accommodate the music, but for the fact that it was there at all. This boy in front of him normally was closed off, angry, and icy cold, but now, almost like magic, he was a living, breathing human being. It was almost like a light had clicked on inside of him as soon as he hit play on his CD player. This was a part of him Carlisle never gotten to see, a part that he hadn’t even known about till now.
He turned and Carlisle knew he was caught. Kristoff came to a sudden stop, his arms dropping to his sides like great hunks of wood, his legs fastening to the floor, and he face falling into a wooden look. He was more a tree then a human within seconds.
“What the hell do you want?” Kristoff hissed as he clicked his player off. Carlisle flinched at the harsh tone of his voice. It was hateful and Carlisle wished he knew why Kristoff disliked him so much.
Ignoring the question Carlisle slid up to his feet and gave a real smile. “You’re really good,” he pointed out as he pushed back his coppery hair, which did nothing but dishevel it again. Kristoff glared like Carlisle was breathing the plague all over him, his chocolate brown eyes nothing but slits in his pale face.
“Go away,” he snapped.
“Why?” Kristoff sputtered and ended up red faced with no real excuse. Carlisle raised his eyebrows, baiting the boy. “Well?”
“F-you,” Kris replied with true cruelty. Carlisle winced. God, what the hell did he do? On normal circumstances he would snap back, walk out, and rant about the boy with the giant pole up his butt to Andy, his best friend, but this wasn’t normal. No, he was trying to be nice to Kristoff, trying to be friends with him. Why? Well, he hadn’t quite figured it out farther then that he was curious about him and the fact that he had started hanging out with Kristoff’s group of friends recently. Well, there was one other reason…
“How long have you been dancing?” Carlisle asked patiently. Kristoff clenched his left fist, his other hand pulling the ponytail out of his shaggy black hair. Suddenly his pale face was eaten by the black strands and the pretty boy Carlisle saw dancing was completely gone. In his place was a scared kid with bruises up his bare arms; bruises that almost looked like fingers.
“Don’t you get it?” Kristoff was nearly crying out the words. “Whatever sick game you’re trying to play with me, it’s not funny and it’s going to hurt. So just f**king leave me alone.”
Carlisle raised his hands as if trying to calm Kris down. “Kristoff, I’m not trying anything, okay? I’m not going to trick you, or whatever you are thinking. I’m not like James or…even Andy. I just want to be friends.” Kristoff shook his head. Carlisle crumpled a little. For a moment he could almost see the damage his friends had done to Kristoff. The bullying, the harassment, and the laughter, all the things Carlisle had never participated in, but never tried to stop. He could see the scars caused by fear all over Kristoff’s tiny body. Suddenly Kristoff moved and the illusion was shattered.
“Says the wolf to red-riding hood,” Kris spat as he unplugged his CD player with a hard tug, ripping the plug out of the socket so hard it ended up snapping Kristoff in the leg. Carlisle wondered if he even felt it, or if Kristoff had become immune to pain, because it seemed like it. Actually, he sometimes felt like Kristoff was numbed to the world, and maybe he was since the world didn’t seem to like him much. His attitude wasn’t helping anything, either.
“Can you even pretend to be nice?” Carlisle found himself spouting. “Or are you always cold and angry?” He didn’t say it meanly, but there was an edge to his voice. Actually, it was more of a challenging tone then an edge.
Kris blinked for a moment, the eyeliner on his lids giving him almost a cartoonish look. “No, because I’m not you. I don’t need to pretend.”
“Then why are you?” Bam. It was like Carlisle hit him in the stomach. Kristoff suddenly look pale and fragile. For a moment Carlisle had a strange urge to go hold Kristoff, to make the pain in him better, to be that friend he needed, but Carlisle knew if he got even one step closer Kristoff would bolt like a scared animal.
“You have no idea what I have to go through,” Kristoff whispered as he shook his head. As if on instinct he touched his bruised arms. Carlisle looked at the marks, the ones usually hidden by Kris’s black hoodies, and felt sick. They looked new and old, a patchwork quilt of abuse.
“Who did that?” Carlisle found himself asking softly. He looked at Kristoff with his soft amber-brown eyes. Kristoff looked at his arms, blanched, and dived for the studded jacket on the gym’s rubbery floor. He pulled it around him like a lifesaver.
“None of your business,” Kristoff murmured. He looked scared.
Carlisle shook his head. “They may not be,” Carlisle agreed, “and I won’t tell.” Kristoff’s eyes widened and he looked almost relieved, and then his expression went stone cold again.
“Whatever,” he breathed.
“No, really, I won’t. As you said, it’s none of my business.” For now, Carlisle thought as Kristoff looked sideways at him. Kristoff shook his head. Carlisle didn’t know if he believe or not, but either way, Kristoff was letting it slid, for now.
There was a long pause where Kristoff packed up his player. Carlisle watched him. Even with out the music he could see the dancer in the other boy. He wondered how he never noticed how smoothly Kristoff could move. Almost like each muscle in his body had choreographed each action and practiced it till each movement was perfect. In a sense, now that Carlisle thought about it, Kris probably had.
Kristoff turned and look surprised that Carlisle was still standing there. “Really, Carlisle, what are you doing here?” He sounded tired, too tired to be a brat. Carlisle smiled to himself.
“Heard the music and saw you,” Carlisle answered. “You are really good.” Instead of yelling now, Kristoff looked away. He appeared conflicted with anger starting to boil up under the surface again. Finally he looked back up and his expression was curious.
“You’re really being nice, aren’t you?” He stared at Carlisle and for once it wasn’t with hate.
“Yep.”
Kristoff breathed out a sigh. “I wish you were like the others so at least I could feel good when I hate you. You’re making it so damn hard too, though.” Carlisle raised his eyebrows and he suddenly wanted to hug him, but he didn’t because he knew Kristoff would shatter into pieces at his touch.
“Just don’t hate me then,” Carlisle stated. Kris looked at the ground.
“I can’t because if I don’t I would….” Kris cut off.
“Would what?”
Kristoff bit his lip. “I can’t say,” he muttered threw closed lips. He shook his head, his black hair flying around his face. Carlisle looked in Kristoff’s dark eyes and he saw his answer deep in them. Carlisle was stunned, but he had known all along. Known why Kristoff was hard and cold to him, why he wouldn’t surrender, wouldn’t give up a one sided fight.
Before Carlisle could think himself out of doing it, or before Kristoff relapsed back into his ass of a self, he crossed the gab between them. Kristoff didn’t even have time to shoot his mouth off before Carlisle kissed him full on the lips.
Carlisle felt Kris go ridged and his pale hands grab his shoulders as if they were going push Carlisle away, but he felt Kristoff pause. Something in Kristoff seemed to soften and give in. He could feel Kristoff’s body leaning into him.
Suddenly Carlisle realized this was the first time. Not the kissing part, he had done it in the past, but the kissing a boy part was new. Years ago he never would have thought of doing it. He had never thought of it when Andy threw bashing insults in Kris’s face, yelling fag down the halls, but now he knew he would. He knew when Andy jokingly called Kristoff a fairy Andy was also calling him one, too. And now he knew how much it hurt.
Kris suddenly pushed him away, hard. Carlisle tripped over his feet and fell, his butted thumping against the gym floor. He looked at Kristoff and the boy had gone sheet white, his lined eyes big, his black lipstick smeared, and his breath coming ragged. He touched his mouth.
“Why did you…?”
“Kristoff…” Kristoff’s face collapsed. He turned and ran. Carlisle watched his black clad figure hit the gym door, the noise of him smacking the metal echoing in the big space. “Kristoff!” He actually stopped. Carlisle watched Kristoff turn and look over his shoulder. He looked like he had just seen his mother get hit by a semi.
“My…my friends can call me Kris.” He couldn’t look more shocked. Carlisle smiled and waved from the ground. Kris turned to leave again, this time a lot slower.
“Hey, Kris,” Carlisle called. Kris turned once more, slowly. “You’re a beautiful dancer, but I think I said that already.” He smiled.
And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.