Only difference is the limit is 300 words.

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Dogtags

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It's such a cliché, honestly.

"Sneaking" off to the bathroom.

I held him in my arms, his head on my collarbone. His fingers gripped onto my shoulderblades, like he couldn't believe I was actually here.

I couldn't either.

Tears gathered in my eyes as I realized I would have to let go.

I didn't want to.

"I love you," I murmur, trying to keep my voice from breaking.

"I love you too..."

Who would have thought? That someone I met online would have such an impact when we met face to face. Enough to bring me to tears.

"Dad's probably wondering where I am," I murmur, gently letting him go. He pulls away and lightly bites his lip.

"Alright."

With a glance of regret, I start out the door. His parents don't know he's bisexual, so we had to sneak off to say something like that... I hate it, but at least I get to see him.

We walk out through the restaurant. As we pass by the bar, heading back to the outside patio, I fish for his hand. He obviously doesn't notice because my knuckles clang up against the wood. Stifling my sigh, we walk back out, and I take my place next to my dad as he sits next to me.

"And... Uh... Mitch?"

"Yeah?" I glance up at him, hazel eyes meeting his dark ones.

"I... Got something for you."

Ah, shit. Leave it to me to forget to be a gentleman and get something for him.

He takes something out from under his shirt, the metal glinting in the weak sunlight. Dogtags, two of them on a silver chain. My eyes widen slightly as I take them.

"So you'll remember me..."

"I'll always remember you."

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Ice Skating

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"You're making it a bigger deal than it actually is," Mitch laughed, grabbing the wall and stepping out into the rink. He caught his balance immediately.

"No, I'm not! Meeeetch. I'm going to fall on my face and break my beautiful nose." Jerome was trying to protest. He knew he was going to be terrible at it. "I have no balance."

"Just come on," Mitch groaned, stepping back onto the ice with ease.

"This is for girls!" Jerome whined. He wasn't going to give up.

Great, now he got the Bitch Face.

"No, it's not. I used to play hockey, baby. I have to be good."

"You never told me you played hockey. You used to work at a hockey rink."

"Now you're just stalling."

"Am not!"

"Jerome?"

"Yes Mitch?"

"Every lap you get around this arena equals a make-out session."

Jerome was out on the ice within seconds.

Granted, he fell on his ass five times.

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Flight Crew

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"Look." Mitch nudged his friend, nodding in the direction of a flight attendant giving dirty looks at the lesbian couple a couple rows forward.

"That's sick," Jerome snapped, the disgust appearing on his face. His eyes flickered as he devised a plan. Mitch watched him carefully.

This is where things got dangerous.

"Biggums, we're ten thousand feet above civilization. If you kill the flight attendant there's no way for you to hide the body. I can't bail you for manslaughter."

"That's what you're worried about?"

"Of course."

Jerome snorted, still staring the lady down. She started pushing her little cart to their row. Mitch saw his mouth curl into a smirk.

"Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?" She asked, innocently enough.

"Does Jack Daniels sound good, babe?" Jerome asked, glancing back to Mitch, who was more or less surprised.

Oh, so that's his little revenge plan.

"Yeah, sounds perfect, love."

"Not too much, though... You know how you get when you're drunk." Mitch felt his own lips twist up as Jerome ordered two small cups of beer for "me and my fiancé."

"Since when did you propose?" Mitch whispered with a chuckle when the disgusted lady turned to get their drinks.

"Just now. Mitch, will you marry me?"

"Sure."

One was joking.

The other was not.

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Sky Zone

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I'm fourteen, he thought to himself. I shouldn't still have to do this.

But, of course, his parents insisted he be escorted between gates as an unaccompanied minor.

He sighed and watched as the attendant checked him in.

"Name?"

"Mitchell Hughes."

"Age?"

"Fourteen."

"Where are you headed?"

"Pennsylvania."

"Who's picking you up?"

"My father, Sean Hughes."

She nodded, and he was left to his own devices for the next two hours, alone in this kid's room.

At least he wasn't the only teen.

He walked over, slinging the bag down from his shoulders and grabbing his charger out of the front pouch. The other boy was wearing ear buds, the music up so loud Mitch could just barely hear the words.

Why do good girls,

Like bad guys?

I've had this question

For a real long time

I've been a bad boy,

And it's plain to see

So why do good girls

Fall in love with me?

Mitch grinned, leaning across the table and tapping the boy on the shoulder. He jumped up, dark eyes wide as he took in Mitch's appearance, pulling one of his ear bud's out.

"Yeah?"

"Falling In Reverse?" Mitch asked.

"Y-Yeah..."

"You like 'em?"

"Yeah."

"Is that all you can say?"

"No."

Mitch laughed. "Why are you so nervous?"

"You're cute. I have a hard time talking to cute boys."

The Canadian boy paused, blinking. He hadn't met anyone who had that kind of an attitude, something to match his own.

"What's your name, sexy?" He tried instead.

Great. Know the boy thirty seconds and you're already flirting. This is why you don't have friends, Mitchell.

"Jerome. And yours, cutie?"

"Mitch, but you can call me 'yours.'"

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Before You Judge

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The girl behind me snickered. "The little boy's mad! Look!"

I knew who she was talking about.

I grit my teeth. Yes, my dad was in a pissy mood. His wife was in the hospital with a possibly fatal brain tumor. Anyone would be pissy.

"Hey!" I glance up. A boy with caramel eyes (I had spotted him when he first came for baggage), sitting across the row from me, was turned around, glaring down the girl. "You don't know what that man has been through. Shut the fuck up."

"Thank you," I murmur as the girl falls silent. He grins at me and scoots down a couple seats to stay next to me. "My s-stepmom is sick and my dad's worried."

"I understand," he says quietly, laying an arm around my shoulder. I lean into his side.

"Like I said, thank you."

"Any time."

The two of us fall silent, and I look up at him after a little while. He meets my gaze evenly. "I'm Mitch, by the way."

"Jerome..." I mutter in response. His fingers grip my shoulder tightly.

"It'll be okay, Jerome. It'll all be okay."

I nod, then pull out my phone, unlocking it and handing it to him. He catches on and adds his number, then shoves his own phone into my hands.

I tap my number in, and add my name as The Boy You Helped.

When I get mine back, I see he put his name as "Call Me."

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