I don't know why the hell I'm writing this crap. As if it served any purpose. I suppose it's better than banging my head against the wall. Or is it?

Tomorrow.

I'm eighteen. Great. My parents have "congratulated" me by leaving a fucking smartwatch in the kitchen. One of those sports ones. To count the steps I don't take and measure the calories I don't burn. It's almost a joke. A "let's see if you get off your ass, lazy shit" wrapped up as a gift.

Then Marcos came down. My little brother. The fucking lord of the house, the perfect man project. He's already a head taller than me and twice as broad-shouldered. He ruffled my hair like I was a dog.

"Congratulations, dwarf".

Dwarf. This comes from the guy who's one eighty and growing. Asshole. The best part was the look of pride on my parents' faces while he was talking about some crap about a game. Me, meanwhile, invisible. As always.

Afternoon.

At school, more of the same. Me in my corner, trying not to exist. Drawing.

Until he showed up. Leo. He's not the typical gym rat like my brother. He's one of those bastards with class, the kind who screws up your life with a fucking smile. He dresses in black, everything looks perfect on him, and he moves like the hallway is his.

He touched me. And it wasn't an accident. The soda can. The cold liquid drowning my drawing. His voice next to my ear, "Shhh... we're going to fix this... together". His hand on mine, using me as a rag.

And my dick, the damn thing, woke up. Got hard as a rock. A textbook erection, painful, pressing against my jeans. But what the hell is wrong with me? What kind of sicko gets turned on by something like that?

And he, of course, saw it. He stopped. He looked down. And he smiled.

"Well...", he whispered. "Looks like you liked it after all, huh, ghost?".

Damn. He saw me. He saw my fucking erection. I wanted the earth to swallow me. He took off with his friends, laughing his ass off.

Now. Night.

Locked in the bathroom. Looking at myself in the damn mirror. And I've understood everything. Why me. I look like a loser, easy prey. Ghostly skin, wire body, scared kid eyes, and a mouth that's begging to be shut up. I'm not a person, I'm a neon sign that says "FUCK ME".

Now I'm in bed. Lights off. But the erection from this afternoon is back, or maybe it never really went away. It's a hard, painful ember in my crotch. I try to think of something else, of nothing, of white noise. But it's useless. The image of Leo's smile won't leave me. His voice. His fucking words.

"…looks like you liked it after all..."

Damn.

My hand goes down, clumsy, almost without my permission. Hesitates for a moment over the fabric of my pajama pants, right above my hard dick. I close my eyes tight, as if that could make this not be happening. But my fingers close around it.

The movement is fe...