Bullies did this to him? They hurt him like that? My hand squeezes his, and my stomach coils.

“One day I was late for school, Momma had a difficult morning,icu he and I didn’t want to go. She made me, telling me I had to go and learn. I did as she asked, but I backtracked, going a different way so I could get there quicker. Marcel and his group of friends cornered me in an Alley just at the back of the school. He was telling me his girlfriend found my eyes beautiful, and that seemed to really bother him. He told me no one was beautiful to his girlfriend except him.”

I swallow the pain rising in my throat, and manage to keep myself from crying.

“I didn’t even know his girlfriend,” he laughs bitterly. “I didn’t know what he was talking about. I don’t even know why he chose me to bully. I knew something bad was going to happen, I felt it. When they tackled me to the ground, I can’t explain the confusion and fear I felt. They pinned me down, his friends holding my arms and legs while another held my head down.”

I think I’m going to be sick, but I manage to keep myself calm enough to keep listening. My hands are trembling, and I feel him squeeze one. I don’t know why he’s comforting me. He should be the one getting comfort.

“They had stolen hydrochloric acid from the science lab at school. They held my eye open and poured it in. I can’t even begin to explain the pain I felt. I couldn’t even wipe it away, my hands were pinned. I know I was screaming, but I didn’t hear it. It ran down the side of my face, burning all the skin there too. They ran off and left me there, and I was sure for a moment that I would die. The people that lived across the road from the alley heard me screaming and got help. I was never the same, it broke something inside of me.”

I’m crying now, nothing can stop the tears from cascading down my cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. It’s all I can manage. What more can you say to someone who has had something so utterly cowardly done to them? I can’t bring his eye back, nor can I change that it happened. Sorry is all I have, yet even then, it’s just not enough.

“I became a monster that day, but not in the way people would think. I didn’t become cruel or unforgiving, I became disfigured. People stared at me, they pointed, they taunted. People are cruel to those who are different. I could have become a heartless, cold person, shutting of my emotions and turning into an unrelenting bastard, but it wasn’t who I am. Instead, I became obsessed with teaching. If Marcels parents had have taught him properly, he might have never been so cruel. He had never learned his lesson; he was never punished for his crime. He was a bad person, and he was allowed to get away with it.”

“Is this why you’ve got us?” I dare to ask.

He looks down at me with a soft expression. “That’s more than one question, and it’s not something I’m willing to speak about right now.”

Even though he’s speaking to me kindly, he’s also being very firm. I think about tonight, and how his father treated him, and I think about how his life must have been growing up: the taunting, the abusive words. It couldn’t have been easy.

“William?” I say in a small, meek voice.

“Yes?”

“Your dad...was he always like that?”

I’m sure he won’t answer me because I know what he’s given me tonight is more than he’s probably even given anyone. I don’t want to push it, but at the same time I just can’t shove my curiosity down.

“For as long as I can remember.”

“Why?”

It makes no sense to me. Why would a father love one son and yet treat ands lothe other with such hatred? They’re twins, they look the same—hell, they have similar behaviors. How could someone who is meant to love you be so cruel?

“I can’t answer that, Beauty, because I don’t know. When I was growing up, it made no sense to me. Ben and I were exactly the same in so many ways, yet he only saw him. He never saw me. He never wanted to.”

We’re silent a moment before I murmur, “I see you, William.”

He flinches, and then he uncurls me off his lap and stands. He makes his way over to his desk and shuffles a bit; soon a soft, slow song comes on, filling the room with its beautiful melody. He turns around and walks over to me with an outstretched hand. I hesitate. If I take this, if I let him in, that’s it for me. I already know I won’t be able to turn back. I lift my gaze to his, and I see him staring at me with an intensity I’ve never experienced.

It’s in that moment I just see him for what he is: a jagged piece of glass that can never be glued back into its spot because it’s not perfect. It has rough edges, even though the middle is still stunning.

I’m a piece of jagged glass, too. Maybe together we can find a way to fit.

I reach up and I take his hand. He pulls me slowly to my feet before wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against his body. I feel so tiny compared to him. His powerful form surrounds me, but it’s in the most amazing way. Like we were made for each other, two people molded to fit. He slides a hand down my arm, wrapping his fingers around mine, and then we’re dancing. And it’s perfect, and brilliant, and everything I ever imagined dancing should be.

We sway slowly, just staring at each other. His lips are slightly parted, and his blue gaze is intense, filled with something so deep it has me questioning everything I’ve believed in the past month. He’s changing everything I am, and it’s one of those changes that can’t be undone. Warmth fills my body, and I find my mind trailing off into thoughts that involve absolutely no dancing.