Needless to say, Tom did not have the amenities of a perfect life. In fact, his home life was known to be a complete shit show.

It began at birth when he emerged from a 16-year-old mother. His father was a full six years older, and it was clear neither had experience; they were not fit to be parents. No parenting book could help an illiterate parent–or one unwilling to pick up a paperback book. No, they were not ones to visit a library or simply type 'parenting' into the search bar of a dinosaur search engine. Tom would recommend that idea for expecting parents. Perhaps then children would not fear home

Their extended family quickly abandoned the trio, and Tom's parents were left with little advice.

To be clear, the punishments Tom received had not reached horrendous. His mother sticked to mental and verbal abuse, while his father handled the small shoves and hits. Both had a knack for slapping Tom's head somewhere: cheek, chin, forehead, cranium. It only got to the point where a dentist found bruises within the lad's cheeks. The frequent blows would send his flesh flying into his molars. However, Tom declared the actions minor. The countless magazine articles he read claimed his predicament could be far worse. Eventually, Tom vowed to snitch if it escalated. The chances of him sticking to the promise were slim. They were his parents, after all.

Enter self defense training–an idea that somewhat bothered Tom, but his instincts were persistent and insisted.

He had been to several sessions, each impossibly more disappointing than the last. Regardless, Chris was not giving up.

Tom, on the other hand, was always quick to call it quits. Tapping out, grabbing Chris' ever-so-muscular arms and forfeiting. He threw up white flags more than he threw a punch.

It reminded him of pottery in school, as he failed to center masterpieces on a board spinning bajillion miles per hour. He gave up then too. If he dropped his parents would not see his mistakes. Career based academics were a different story. He had no choice but to do well.

After Tom's embarrassing confession, personal topics were never discussed in defense class. Chris did not pry, and Tom was unwilling to press any further.

What idiot would say such a thing? And so soon? Tom had never felt so stupid. He barely knew Chris.

Now, walking to his next lesson, Tom worried further. Perhaps Chris would evaluate Tom's every glance and move.

To Chris, the confession required no further thought. It did not change his opinion. It was hardly important to him. Nothing to lose sleep over. In his opinion, it was more of an explanation. Perhaps Tom told him to drop a subtle hint as to why he was in need of these sessions. Whether it be people at school or not.

It did not make walking into the building any less stressful.

He pushed the door open, expecting a familiar bell to sound. He winced in preparation, for he hated the noise. It startled him the day after Chris must have installed it.

Silence.

The ring never came, and the bell was long gone. Instead, there was evidence of a rushed removal. The two holes in the drywall were empty, now pointless without screws.

The once empty front desk now supported a blue screwdriver and two tortured, broken screws.

Chris had removed the expensive, electronic bell. The one that worked perfectly.

"Tom, my favorite student." Chris did his best to keep a gentle tone.

"Liar." muttered Tom.

"I don't lie. You have the most personality."

"I'm the student who barely speaks. You must either have no other students or have me mistaken for another."

"I have a fabulous memory, thank you very much. And for someone who barely speaks, you sure like getting sassy with me."

"Fine. You just like that I can never beat you. You like how I inflate your ego." Tom was quiet, but his voice was heard.

"No, I don't need that kind of gratification. Plus, I know you can. In fact, I know you will today, because I have plans." Chris was using bigger words. Perhaps naturally or to impress Tom. Maybe Tom was rubbing off on him. Just not the way they both wanted.

"By going easy on me?"

"Never." It was an honest response.

Tom only nodded. He was done talking. He had already said more words than he had in his previous class. And he had spoken far too much then. Impulsive imbecile.

"Now that you know my memory is quite spectacular, let us test yours, yeah? What are the weak spots."

Tom knew them, and he was just about to list them off.

"Would you like an anagram?"

"Not necessary."

"Good, because I couldn't make an interesting, memorable one."

"Eyes, nose, neck, groin, knee, shin, instep."

"Good. Now, I am going to give you a few compliments." Chris said as they walked toward the soft-padded floor. "More so list your weapons. Things I have noticed."

Okay, Mr. Observant.

"You're fast, flexible, smart, quick, and you have good hand-to-eye coordination. You are very intelligent."

"Some of those are synonyms. They don't count." Tom continued, unintentionally deepening his voice to match Chris'. "And, on the other hand, I'm weak, stubborn, and I quit when things get tough."

"And you're also a negative Nancy at the moment. But you're still here. Can't quit me easily. And, might I add, I've got some bruises when you tapped out. So you are stronger than you think."

"Or you bruise easily."

"No, I don't. How else would I hide the evidence of school bullies from my mother." Chris said quick before moving on, revealing more information than Tom expected. "Now let's get to it before you piss me off further with your lack of faith. Because, Tom, I have enough of it for the both of us."

"Fine."

"Fine. Today we are working on surprises." Chris' eyes brightened as his lips curled into a smile.

Tom was confused.

"You can get far taking someone by surprise. Have any ideas as to what you could do?"

"Doesn't that apply more to the begin of an attack?"

"Sometimes that is needed."

"This class is about defense," Tom got defensive.

"I am only trying to help."

"What are you implying?" Tom's tone was vicious.

Chris stuttered, overthinking. "Forget it. But it is beneficial, so let's discuss them. Do you have any examples of a surprise?"

Tom did, but he refused to look stupid if he were to fail, especially in front of Chris. Chris was—well—Chris. His confidence was intimidating, and Tom was always eager to please. He struggled to see the disappointment on his teacher's face when his weak hits were so easily countered. Too bad his urge to quit often outweighed the one to please.

"I would not attack someone."

"I am not saying you would."

"Then why bring this up?"

"What if your life was in danger and you knew it? Sometimes surprising an opponent with a small hit gives you a chance to run."

Tom ignored him. He was not pissed... just more so bothered.

"Fine. Get in position, let's review."

Tom was quiet.

It began with Chris' hand around his neck again. It was gentle, and Tom didn't really like that it was gentle. Such a gentle, warm touch was giving his body other signals. It was better for it to be brutal and familiar. But something about the way Chris' thumb brushed against his windpipe and applied the perfect amount of pressure made Tom uneasy.

Tom turned his head. His body did not want to, but his mind said otherwise. It directed the pressure of Chris' hand to tendon, allowing the slightest amount of air.

"Good."

Tom blushed. If Chris noticed, he did not say anything. If anything he blushed as well.

Their next problem was much more difficult. It was no equation or multiple choice question. Chris was behind Tom, arms around the boy's front in a rather restricting position.

Tom was not as quick to find an answer. Chris' arms were flexed around him and he could feel a warm chest pressing against him, leaning into him. Tom was reading too far into Chris' actions, and he knew that. Chris would never come on to Tom.

"What next?"

Tom gulped, hating himself for the blood in his cheeks and speed of his heartbeat. He pushed his bad thoughts aside with guilt and shame.

"I don't know."