Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bitter silence lingered around the unfazed teenage boy that stood, bravely, one hand outstretched in front of him. Purple and blue were painted along his knuckles, almost as if they were blended using oil pastels, the definition was pure along his boney hands and his slender, pale fingers, that curled off into his sweaty palm. His navy blue uniform was ruffled yet his dark hair was slicked back appropriately, it was the only part of him that wasn’t in poor quality though he was a handsome boy. His shorts had been covered in dust and his dress, leather shoes were painted in a thick coat of dried, hazel mud and his white tie had been yanked at and it was obvious he had tried his best to retie it as he obediently slumped to the principal’s classroom. But there he stood, his dark blue jumper torn at the collar and his socks grey, shoulders back and head high; he was nervous, his slim legs were shaking but he had only hoped that the large man in front of him hadn’t noticed. He stared at the man with his grey, piercing eyes, trying to shield any anxiousness that may have been revealed. The large man stared down on him, goggling through his lenses that were perched on the bridge of his cauliflower nose. The boy’s slim face grew even paler as he watched the headmaster tower over him, gripping a black, leather cane in one plump hand and, tempted, flicking it into his own hand, back and forth. The sounds of a soft crack against his own palm gently bounced around the polished oak room’s walls. The man cleared his throat and the boy felt as though he wanted it to be over and done with, this room was too familiar and the man’s actions were repeated.

A loud crack sounded and as ready as the boy thought he was, his legs nearly gave way when the crack quickly drew pain to his hand. It left a red lash imprinted and it eventually subsided into a numb sensation. A loud voice boomed in the classroom.

“So, Nicolas, what is it this time?” The man traced his sausage, red fingers along the edge of the cane, teasingly.

“Sir,” Nick began, trying to let his voice be as strong as it could be, “I find this is not very fair.”

There was a loud crack and Nick took a quick deep breath in, sharp, trying to belittle the pain and keep his posture strong. His dark eyebrows furrowed together and his arm began to shake, the pain began to subside faster.

“You know what isn’t fair?!” The man barked, fiercely. Nick knew it was rhetorical and felt he shouldn’t answer at all, his stomach stirred and the urge to be sick burrowed into his stomach.

“Answer me boy!” He belting down on the poor boy’s knuckles once again before the room fell into complete silence.

The boy shook all over but kept rooted to his spot, he tried as best as he could to be brave in front of a bear, the headmaster, who had tried continuously to push Nick and let him topple over the line, though Nick knew better than that, he managed to choke out what the headmaster wished to hear.

“I don’t know, sir.”

The bear’s face flushed with satisfaction and a smug smirk slipped onto his bulging face, which had grown red with anger and didn’t return to its natural colour.

“My time being wasted on you, always, Nicolas!” He yelled and Nick braced himself but there was no large lash of anger being impaled onto his wrist, instead he took a step closer to the boy.

“And wouldn’t 100 lines be unfair?” He kept going, “Yes, indeed, so I’ll make it 500.”

Nick knew better than to kick up a fuss though he felt an anger build up inside him, one that deserved to be unleashed on this power tripping dictator. The headmaster quickly flicked the end of his cane in the direction of a two seated desk, both occupied with paper and ink pens on the wooden, shiny desk tops. Nick obeyed and dragged his dirty shoes over to the desk.

He slipped in between the desk and the bench seat, which were both so highly polished he could see the big, white blur of his reflection as he squeezed into his spot on the left, beside the window, framing a dead tree trapped in a teasing circle of live shrubs. Nick had seen this sight before; he sighed and stared at the tree, which he though was beauty amongst the sheep.

There was a loud crack against a hard surface that yanked Nick back into reality, the fuming bear stood over his podium, his face screwed together spitefully.

“Get to work, Nicolas,” He boomed before flicking the cane to the blackboard where he had written in cursive Nick’s punishment.

Nick began to read it under his breath.

“Our school of Rayford, respectable and valued, has fairness due to all students, its rules are plain and simple but I have disobeyed these so I must remember the greatness of our school through fair punishment.”

He scoffed and the headmaster would have picked up on it if it weren’t for the door, squeaking open. Nick sat up in his seat, leaning over; trying to see which person was to walk through the door after him. It had been racing through his mind, the ginger, the pipsqueak or the person that actually deserved it, that bully. The soon to be victim of the great oafs wrath had tried to open the door discreetly but the loud shriek of the hinges warned us of their arrival and now the headmaster switched his attention from Nick. A small, dirty blonde headed boy walked in, his hair was ruffled and he was fumbling about with a navy blue hat in both his hands in front of him. It was the pipsqueak. His hair covered majority of his nervous face but not enough to see the red blooming along his cheeks and the light freckles dusted along his nose. His uniform was a mess, blood was stained in various areas of his grey, unbuttoned shirt and the collar was partially upturned, blood stained a large part of it too. His shorts were much dirtier than Nick’s and his large, heavy shoes were covered in mud, not just a dried cracked layer but a browning, lush mix along the heels. His posture was anxious and he hung his head. Nick gave a gasp, only quiet enough to keep his shock personal; he began to move his hands around in panic, sweeping one through his hair and another grasped at his face. The headmaster gave a smug chuckle before being taken aback once the younger boy raised his head. His lip was bleeding and his nose was too, his hands had been painted in a dark red of bleed that had dried slightly, he tried to wipe them down on his shorts discreetly but the headmaster tried to intimidate him right away.

“What’s the matter with you?” He demanded, his voice slightly shaken.

He cleared his throat.

“How dare you present yourself in such a state?”

The small boy seemed to sink lower without much hesitation and pulled the hat in his hands closer to his chest, he was afraid but so was Nick, he sat at the desk, worried.

“Shit, no, what is he doing here?” He muttered.

The headmaster gave a loud grunt before ordering the boy to hand over the hat. The boy clutched onto to it tightly, avoiding all eye contact before, reluctantly, stretching out his arm to hand it over, shakily. The headmaster quickly gripping the forearm and the hat dropped suddenly, revealing the rouge underside, the texture was almost like an acrylic painting. His large face grew almost purple at the sight though his mouth was frowning, sickly. He suddenly shook it out of himself, scowling once again and the grip on his cane tighten, and he rolled his shoulder, ready to thrash the small boy. Nick sat in the sidelines, guilt nervously built up in his stomach while he was examining the kid who looked only a couple of years younger than his self. He watched the boy keep his plump, red lips shut tight and his eyes dart away from the headmaster. The first crack pelted down sounding harder than anything Nick had dealt with, Nick flinched at the noise and the small boy collapsed, the headmaster still had his grip so the boy was dangling from his arm.

“Get up, punishment is a virtue when you’re defiant, isn’t it?” He questioned, mockingly as the boy tried to collect himself.

The kid was near tears, his green, large eyes welling up, innocently. The headmaster gave a jerk of his thin arm that looked as if it would break under the strength of the goon.

“Answer me!” He yelled and the small boy flinched.

Nick slightly leaned forward over his desk, impatiently.

A stream of glistening tears tumbled out of the corner of the boy’s black eye and ran along his cut and bleeding nose. The headmaster scoffed and rolled his eyes, largely motioning that he thought the boy was being ridiculous.

“Have some dignity boy and answer me!” He shook harder and longer before lashing down when the kid was least expecting it.

Nick yelled at the loud crack bouncing towards the back of the room and kicked his sitting bench backwards, angrily. He stood on his feet, furious.

“Stop,” He hissed and to himself he thought he shouldn’t be doing this but the look of the small boy barely holding himself up, sniffling and bleeding all over was too much for Nick to witness.

The air was still and the headmaster froze before edging his large head around on his neck, stiffly. The sight of the large man turning his head in such a demonic manner had made Nick feel as if backing down would be the best option but kept at his stance, bravely. The small boy looked up at Nick in respect.

“There is absolutely no need to interfere, Nicolas,” His voice was quiet and intimidating.

“Yes there is,” Nick began before being cut off by a large booming voice.

“TRY THAT AGAIN NICOLAS,” He yelled mockingly.

Nick let out an irritable long sigh before repeating himself.

“SIR, yes there is,” He paused and the headmaster nodded, menacingly, “The boy you hold is innocent.”

The kid sniffled before using his other arm to reach across for his hat, which had fallen on the floor before he did. He scrambled about still restricted by the principal holding his arm, hard.

“Then why is he here? Tell me that, Nicolas.” He acted snotty and tried to lead Nick to be speechless, but he was prepared.

“He was,” A loud clearing of a throat broke Nick off and he quickly and angrily continued, “Sir, minding his own business when someone happened to pick on him, it is never the victims fault.”

The headmaster laughed, almost forcing it out, pressing his hand and the cane against his stomach.

“I want answers, not a story, Nicolas.”

Nick started thinking about what to say next, feeling almost defeated. The silence of the room had suddenly swept in as he tried to collect his thoughts. A loud voice sounded and Nick was slightly relieved that he didn’t have to admit defeat.

“Would you take the hits for this boy then, Nicolas?”

Nick suddenly nodded with no hesitation or thought, he felt he could handle it better and the small boy was too undeserving of the belting. He shuffled out from his desk, taking a quick look out the window out to the bravely standing tree unaffected by the life blooming around it. He walked forward, unashamed. The headmaster released his grip on the boy and he tumbled into a pathetic pile on the ground, he hurried himself up and the headmaster motioned to the seat, giving him the same instructions as he had given Nick earlier. He also added something extra to the small beaten kid shuffling towards the oak set of desk and bench.

“I want you to see the pain you’re causing this hero,” He said hero so bitterly that the small boy flinched and almost sprinted to the seat.

“It doesn’t hurt me,” Nick spat out fast, trying to reassure the boy who kept his head down anyway.

Nick stood in front of the oaf once again, his large stomach bulging out and he peered down from his thick specs. He held his hand out in front of himself, just as unaffected as the tree.

“Turn it over,” The headmaster ordered, cackling to himself.

Nick paused, shocked but complied and showed the pale, fleshy underside of his thin hand and the bear wrapped his large hand around his upper arm, digging his stubby, fat fingers into the delicate part of Nick’s arm. He flashed a nasty, yellow teethed smile and drew his cane arm upwards. Nick braced his self and strongly watched the leather cane hover in the still, dangerous atmosphere. Suddenly it came down within the blink of an eye onto his wrist; it left a bright red, glowing mark and a stinging pain that lingered and shot up his arm. Nick took a sharp breath trying to make sure the small boy didn’t feel guilty. It struck him again, painfully, the numb feeling hadn’t started yet so every thrash that he pelted upon Nick stung badly and homely stayed. Nick softly looked over to the small kid. He was chewing on his hat that he had curled his small fingers into, nervously, and he was shaking, he was crying harder, his green eyes circled by red and water and he was hunched over the desk, looking too apologetic. Nick tried to shine him a smile, playfully, letting him know that he was strong before being cut off mid-grin with a large strike to his aching wrist and clenching his teeth together. The small boy gave a whimper.

Finally there was a painfully hard hit that made Nick swear loudly, the boy squeal and the headmaster finish breathlessly and proud. There was a long painful silence before the grip on his arm was released and Nick grasped it, cradling it protecting. He suddenly let the pain subside fast and he stood straight up and stared at the oaf, right into his soulless, small eyes, he had no expression but the headmaster was slightly threatened.

“Off you go, you too boy.” He suddenly ordered.

The boy got off his seat fast, gathered his hat and hurried towards the door. Nick stood for a while before muttering “Pig” right at the headmaster who tried to play off any sense of hearing. Nick turned and calmly walked away. He began opening the door and walking out along the empty corridor when there was a large thump into the back of him, he turned around irritably, almost thankful for something to take his anger out on before seeing the small boy nervously back away. Nick gave a small, sympathetic sigh and reached out, grabbing the boy’s arm that flinched at the touch.

“Are you alright?” He asked, sincere.

The boy avoided eye contact and shrugged slightly. Nick hummed a little bit before leading the boy to a bathroom. The room opened softly and revealed an empty, white room, tiled floors began to trace the small kid’s dirty footsteps and the tiny, cracked mirror barely let Nick fix his hair. The door shut, airily. The boy kept to himself near the exit of the bathroom as Nick began to yank paper towels out, releasing some of his anger. He bunched them up, quietly and ran them under a tap. The small boy stood warily, like a deer among headlights, as Nick approached him coolly and began dabbing away the dried blood. The small boy was stiff but gradually dropped his guard as Nick carefully worked away at his horrific face. He began to replenish the paper towels and motioned for the boy to come towards the taps. Nick stood cleaning the kid up and the quietness of the room was broken first by Nick.

“What’s your name?” He muttered, peering over his thin, pale nose, dabbing at the kid’s lip.

He barely made any noise but gently he whispered, “Ellis.”

Nick grunted, “Alice?” He repeated, chuckling.

“No, El-lis.”

“Oh.”

Nick suddenly felt embarrassed for once in his confident life.

“You have a cute name,” He said, trying to regain his cool.

Ellis blushed and Nick noticed while he drew the wet paper towel along his rouge, soft cheek but pretended he didn’t for Ellis’ sake. Things went back to being silent but as Nick went to alter that, Ellis went first.

“Thank you for all you’ve done,” Ellis mumbled.

“It’s no problem, it doesn’t hurt me anymore,” He began to laugh at himself before realizing how sad he was.

Ellis shook his shaggy hair, “I mean even before that, sticking up for me, punching that guy.”

Nick tried to steady him again so he could fix up his black eye, “Oh it was nothing.”

“Did it hurt getting punched and stuff?”

Nick laughed at the small kid’s concern as his green eyes sparkled admiring, “Not too bad, I’m sure I hurt him more.”

The boy smiled up at Nick, tilting his head before looking down slowly. Nick used his long, slender index finger to readjust the boys focus to his face so he could fix him up.

“It hurt getting kicked and shoved,” Ellis said, quietly, “and being hit with the stick.”

Nick froze but gently put his hand on the shoulder of the small boy who rushed in for a hug, wrapping his short arms around Nick’s slim torso. He could feel Ellis sniffling on his shoulder and he quickly pulled him off making sure there was no snot on him. He grabbed the kid’s hands, which fit nicely inside Nick’s large hands, and pulled the under the sink to scrub off the blood.

“Are you a clean freak?” Ellis asked, quietly.

Nick would have been offended, no matter how true, but the innocence and quietness of the kid easily manipulated Nick’s emotions, “I guess, yeah,” He chuckled.

The boy screwed up his button nose that had barely been attended to by Nick, his pressure on the bridge of his nose he created had made it bleed again, trickling slowly down his face. He lifted his shoulder trying to wipe it off. Nick quickly let go off his hands, swung his hand over to the paper towels and grasped at nothing. His dark eyebrows arched and he stared beyond belief, he had sworn there was plenty enough there. The boy immediately wiped his freshly washed, damp hand over his nose carelessly. Nick began to stress as Ellis watched him with large eyes of emerald innocence. There was a standoff of silence as rouge liquid poured down Ellis’ sad face, evacuating in drips to land on the tiles. Nick grunted to himself in anger and undid his messy tie that had been in poor quality and dabbed it on Ellis’ face before he could protest.

A small muffled voice spoke through the bloody fabric.

“It’s white, Nick, how are you going to get it out?”

Nick paused before staring at the once blinding white tie that had been looked after in spectacular conditions suddenly turn to crimson. He shifted his weight uncomfortably before seeing the boy about to pull it away, trying to rescue Nick from his overloading stress, and immediately assured the kid that blood comes out easily. His honey, big eyebrow cocked but he didn’t question it.

There was a piercing loud ring that took the two by surprise. Nick pulled away and dabbed as best he could before staring at Ellis’ face which had become flushed through with a newly frightened expression of facing his classes. Nick sighed.

“Kid, you’ll be okay,” He mumbled and Ellis blinked his large eyes.

“How do you know?” He replied, almost threatened by Nick.

Nick shrugged, unbothered. He watched the kid sweep his hair around before adjusting his navy, dirty hat onto his head and frown. Nick folded his arms across his slim chest, watching the boy ready himself. Ellis finally began to leave before taking a quick look over his shoulder and smiling.

“Thank you, Nick, you’ve been real kind.”

Nick smiled, almost flustered and scratched the back of his neck, nervously, “See you later, kiddo.”

The boy suddenly shone and bounced out the door, lightly tapping his clunky boots as he ran along the hallway. Nick stood until the sound of an energetic boy eager to get to class had dissipated into the lingering painful silence that he found comfort in. He took a long breath in and leaned over the sink, he knew being stressed wasn’t helpful to his health. He ran the metal, useless tap and cupped his pale, bloody hands under the crimson running water, splashing it on his own beaten face once the water ran clear. He drew his head back with a release of breath, angrily, and caught a glimpse of his blue, black and red face. He dragged his slender fingers along the significant areas and became depressed.

“God, the only thing I had,” He said as he finally refused to look at himself once again.

Chapter Text

The aching repulsive feeling stirred in his stomach and he rushed out into the open. The sudden brush of fresh air danced welcomingly around his barely presentable uniform, allowing him to take a few moments to himself peacefully. There was a loud rumble that disrupted Nick and a large machine approached him as a spiteful, lady hunched over it, she was squinting at Nick with a wrinkled frown that turned Nick sour. He stood as he felt conflicted to sprint while he could, she was an old, working lady who couldn’t catch up without a heart attack or he could stay and lie his way to victory because after all she was an old, working lady who couldn’t catch up without a heart attack.

There was a piercing shriek that echoed along the glossy and clean hallway and Nick waited for her to shuffle to him with a loud, clunking machine in front of her, holding the bar like a trundler. Nick had decided to stay, he was no murderer and he couldn’t take responsibility for the collapse of a grandma. She was still gawking with her tired, wrinkled eyes at him, peering over her sharp, beaky nose. Her plum coloured lips frowned spitefully, outlined by a raisin coloured pencil like a picture in a children’s colouring book. Her green tracksuit and sketchers moved slowly, swaying in time with her elderly motions. Nick prepared himself, cleaning himself down and clearing his throat.

There was a sharp, bitter voice.

“Young man, what are you doing out here?” She hissed, her words jumping off her sharp, grey tongue.

“Sorry ma’am,” He began as the persuasion sweet like honey dribbled from the upturned corners of his sharp mouth, “You see I fell and I was ordered to clean myself up.”

She took a long look at him, stepping past her machine to get a full observation.

“Where’s your tie-,”

“But the caretaker had seemingly forgotten to stock up the paper towels; this school is really losing its Rayford pride!” Nick slyly told her.

She stepped back, shocked, before trundling into the men’s bathrooms. Nick waited until the door had completely shut before kicking off on the metal heel of his dress shoes with a loud clop and sprinting out of sight. A faint shocked scream was heard from the woman’s discovery of the blood but Nick ignored it. He pushed at the double doors hard and they swung open loudly and he didn’t stop running until a small bundled up ball of clothing came to halt him.

Nick was standing out in the greying open, the billowy clouds crowded together and blocked out the sun. The hair on his arms stood up as small goose bumps ran along his thin arms. A soft voice meowed out from the midst of Nick’s surprise.

“What are you doing?” A small boy huddled up on the grass, pulled his knees close and wrapped his muscular arms around them, tight. He was staring up at Nick.

Nick scowled. It was Ellis.

“What are you doing?” Nick’s voice was loud and bewildered, “You have class, kid!”

“So do you.”

There was a silence before the boy let out a soft chuckle and patted the lush, green grass beside him. Nick hesitated, floating in the racing thoughts of his own before kneeling down and sitting shoulder to shoulder with Ellis. The hush of the trees leaves being swept by combed through Nick’s hair, releasing a few oiled down tuffs and letting them dangle, teasingly, on his battered, bloody forehead. He used one hand to twist at one between his index and thumb finger while his other hand leant down on the grass.

“So?” The boy squeaked.

“What?”

The runt leaned his head on one shoulder, knocking his hat slightly looser.

“What are you doing?” His small voice repeated.

Nick’s dirty knees pulled up and he patiently mimicked the kid’s movements.

“Going to class,” Nick’s answer gave a slight hint of sarcasm before it was fully released in a scoff.

He rolled his thin, boney shoulders back and managed to heave himself up onto his muddy shoes once again. He towered over the huddled honey headed boy who was smiling, unconvincingly, up at him. He stretched out one arm to help Ellis up but he shook his curly locks about.

“I’m not,” He said, trying to sound as firm as Nick looked.

Nick stared down, scanning the boy with his disgruntled expression before dropping his arm, shrugging and turning away on the ball of his foot.

“Later El,” Nick said, coolly, as if he were trying to get on the kid’s nerves just as much as he was getting on Nicks.

He sighed, swiftly making his way around the block of corridors to avoid the janitor, before he heard a small, angry grunt that had been produced from the pipsqueak curled up on the green grass. He smirked to himself, satisfied with the emotions he had dealt to Ellis.

Nick gave a deep breath as he softly knocked on the oak, shiny door with a small sign saying “A2” in a rhythmic pattern. There was a loud screech of chair legs scraping against the planks and finally a dark face greeted Nick at the door with a despising expression, he was large almost blocking the entire doorway but Nick slithered past him, unaffected by his attempts to intimidate Nick.

“Nicolas,” A voice hissed, irritated.

“Sorry, ma’am, I had to see the headmaster,” As he announced this there was a chorus of rowdy kids, oohing and howling troublesomely.

“Nick’s in trouble,” They echoed, emphasizing trouble making it longer than necessary.

“Collect your books please Nick,” The lady ordered at the large oak desk, fronted by a child waving their paper frantically in her face.

Nick sighed. Great, he thought, another reason to get belted.

He kept his posture straight and darted his eyes around the class, searching for his leather satchel. He spotted it at the back behind the largely built, dark boy with scruffy black hair and terrible facial hygiene that had the pleasure to grant Nick access to the classroom. He swept through rows of desks elegantly, past giggles of petty girls and immature boys attempts at encouraging Nick’s stroke of bad luck by throwing at high fives and fist bumps that he did not return. He scowled at any attempts of interaction.

The dark boy kept his eyes fixed on his large book, laid out in front of him, upon his wooden, defaced desk. Nick stepped past him and reached down for the leather bag, sitting upon the bag racks, amongst the mixture of black and navy blue backpacks. He gripped on the strap before the seat of the buff teenage boy jolted back and knocked it out of Nick’s hand, scattering books along the floor. Papers fluttered about and gently landed in a mess of nervousness. Nick gave a loud, obviously annoyed sigh and tried his best to ignore the buffoon’s attempts at getting at him. He swept his papers up, tidily, slotting them into his bag and then moved on to collecting his large amounts of books, stacking them up as he picked them up. A group of girls flocked over to peer at him, offering their assistance but Nick waved them off, batting at the pests but he knew he would never hurt a girl. He organized his bag finally swung it over his tiny shoulder and nodded gratefully over at the girls that tried to help him who immediately returned the gesture with glares of white smiles and blushing of cheeks. The buff boy had returned his attention to his book once again and Nick knocked into his desk, purposefully, causing his book to thump to the ground, disrupting the desks in front of him but strolling away before any harm could be done. The boy, embarrassed, scooped up his book in one large hand, fast, and avoided all eye contact.

“Here,” The exhausted lady said as Nick approached her and she handed him a note.

Before he could fold it open she pointed to the door and he exhaled, in a pissed tone, as he prowled across the classroom and let himself out. He revealed the figures “B12” in the paper as he froze, trying to figure out where he was going, mentally working out a map of the school. He began physically tracing his way through the never ending hallways, pacing around, staring at the letters and numbers on each door before finally arriving to a door barely noticed at the end of an unlit hallway. He knocked in his usual pattern and waited. There was a soft voice coming from inside and Nick knocked again before losing his patience and slowly opening the door, peering around. It revealed a room with white walls and pale plank flooring; it looked like the schools older appearance before they redid it all. There was a round table and four chairs around it, one of which were occupied by a small, black girl with hair tied back. His clip of his heels alerted the girl and she quickly watched him, warily, making sure he was here for the same reason she was. Another older, European girl swept in behind Nick, silently and the African girl’s eyes followed her, smiling, comfortably. Her hair was dark and swept up in a ponytail also; she was wearing the school uniform, though she looked too old to be. She wasn’t wearing makeup like the girl in the seat was but it made no difference, they both led Nick to a strange, out of place feeling.

“Nicolas?” The older one said and he nodded, deciding to keep to the quiet act.

“I’m Zoey and this is Rochelle,” She introduced and Rochelle raised her delicate hand from the table to give him a small wave. Nick raised his eyebrows, smoothly, in return.

She gestured to a chair and Nick approached it, cautiously, taking his place.

“So, your teacher sent you here to study, yes?” Zoey asked and Nick screwed up his thin nose.

He shrugged and placed his bag beside his chair. She leant over to look at it before retreating and staring, intensely, at Nick. He changed his glance to over the table and spotted the African girl with her hands in her lap, looking down with an unsettled look. Zoey swung over to the large, old looking computer and loudly tapped a few buttons, Nick grunted in irritation.

“Ah, you’ve been sent to spend the rest of your class here, you arrived too late to catch up apparently, Nicolas,” She informed him.

He took it in but didn’t reply and stared at the space in front of him.

“So do you have anything to work on?” She questioned.

Nick ignored her.

“I can give you sheets, I have plenty of subject’s worksheets,” She continued.

She furrowed her thin, chocolate brows together.

“What do you do in your spare time, Nicolas?”

When will you mind your own business? Nick asked rhetorically in his head. He clipped open his satchel and pulled out a book and a wad of papers. The book had large printing of the words ASTRONOMICAL THERIOES with colours loud enough to give him a headache, he immediately threw the book open to an unintentional page.

“Science, huh,” Zoey squawked.

“I hate it, it’s my worst subject,” He muttered, agitated by the constant questions.

“I’m good at it,” A small voice spoke out and Nick looked up, surprised.

Rochelle was softly smiling, clearly nervous to be making conversation with such a character known to be so vicious. Her voice was more American than he expected but it wasn’t annoying like Zoey’s. Nick watched her face finally cower back down and avoid eye contact with him and the longer he stared the redder her dark cheeks became until the colour flowered over her skin colour and turned her cheeks violet. He decided to stare back at his book that looked like a mess of words and diagrams. He was patiently tracing one of the larger diagrams when he shifted uncomfortably and looked up to see the small, African girl looking at him in awe. He cleared his throat and she quickly looked away, nervously. He refocused and began jotting down the notes beside the diagram before reading a paragraph of difficult understanding, he inhaled and exhaled angrily before trying again, trying to make out every word on its own. He read it over and over and switched the page, everything became too hard to understand and he closed his eyes trying to prevent stress or anger. He flipped back towards the front of the book and a thought of Ellis swept through his mind, wondering about his wellbeing before he blinked furiously, removing the thought. He stared down at the page before copying down something he didn’t even understand. Zoey began to type away at the computer again; Nick began counting how many times she tapped before a large pause to distract himself. The silence created a loud piercing noise in Nick’s ears and he eventually slammed down his fist, frightening Zoey and Rochelle largely. Rochelle stared, bewildered and withdrew her hands from the table and Zoey quickly got up and rushed over to Nick.

“Oh my goodness, what’s the matter?” She asked, her legs were shaky and she bent down to come to Nick’s level as he sat on the chair.

He stared at his hand that was glowing red before he looked over to Rochelle, apologetically. She didn’t react but her expression let him know she was concerned about him.

Zoey touched Nick’s shoulder and he flinched.

“I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just…” Nick couldn’t finish his sentence but the atmosphere was urging him too.

A loud ring sounded followed by the wave of footsteps wash through the silence. Nick immediately shuffled his belongings into his bag quickly, getting out of his chair fast. Rochelle was exiting the door when he looked up.

“You can talk to me,” Zoey pestered and Nick retreated away from her and out the door before getting lost in the masses of navy blue.

 Being swept out into the open, he took a breath and moved from the crowds filing out. He searched about for his regular placing he would reserve for himself at breaks. He gently sat upon a bench amongst the blades of green, overlooking the fence and onto the town’s harbor with his bag leaning against the other arm of the bench. He didn’t like to go to the cafeteria; instead he reached into his bag and pulled out a crimson apple. He fixed his gaze so over the period of time lunchtime took, he saw the waves of navy blue and the flocks of grey amongst the school court and field or the distant ships pummeling through the fog and cranes toss about crates of assorted colours. The peace of his loneliness had given him time to recover from his hectic day before it was disrupted by three curious boys.

“Are you Nicolas?” They squeaked. He nodded, unimpressed.

“Did you really beat up Chad?” They asked, excited.

He raised one of his dark eyebrows and inhaled.

“You’re like some cool superhero to Ellis and Keith and stuff, like you could be the Rayford superhero,” They twittered and he chuckled, amused by their innocence before dismissing them with the confirmation of the story.

He watched the squawking crowd of the three boys flutter away and mingle, excitedly. Nick reached into his bag and pulled out his headphones attached to a silver mp3 player, dangling, uselessly. He pressed play, mindlessly listening to any song and pocketing the glittering device. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes, softly, mellowing out. His peace muted out even the slightest noise, he didn’t notice the blonde troublesome kid curl up beside him on his bench. Nick only became aware when the kid gently nuzzled his shoulder using his small, soft hand, batting at him like a cat. Nick groaned, letting it go on, until the boy stopped and he flicked open his grey eyes, furiously burning, yanking his headphones out fast. Ellis dangled over his unimpressed face with a cheesy smile that even Nick couldn’t reject. Nick pushed himself up on one hand and Ellis at back on his knees, lurking like a prowling dog, on the wooden seat.

“What?” Nick spat, sharply, almost shocking Ellis with the sound of hatred that spilled out of his thin down-curved mouth.

“Well Keith, my bud, is down there,” He began, cheerily, gesturing gently to a ginger headed boy that looked almost identical to Ellis from this distance, “And he wants to come talk to you, you’re a hero!”

Nick sighed but felt slightly sympathetic for the boy’s innocence. Ellis immediately took that as a positive response and waved Keith to come up. The ginger messy kid bounced up the green hill, his alikeness to Ellis’ appearance altered as he approached. The comparison on the face had been differed by the size; Ellis had a small face with flawless bone structure and the other kid, Keith had a long face that seemed to be scruffy already. Ellis was a lot shorter than Keith who had square bust shoulders. He shone his white teeth, revealing a gaping darkness between the two front teeth.

“Man, oh, man!” He bickered, loudly.

Nick aggressively pinched at the bridge of his nose.

“You’re so cool!” His voice was loud.

He began swinging his arms around, frantically, mimicking the movements that Nick had made earlier on. His mouth kept flapping, wildly and Nick groaned.

Nick finally managed to stop his groaning to slip out, “I don’t want a big deal made out of this, and I just want everything to be how it was before.”

Keith continued to run his mouth and finally Nick’s patience finished at the small thread and he quietly advised they leave. Ellis’ silence became concerning to Nick. The two disheartened kids paused, falling from their mighty highs, and Ellis turned to Keith, slowly. Suddenly, very quickly, the pipsqueak led the ginger boy away, their boots had imprinted heavily into the soil as they paced away. Nick waited until their figures in the distance had been devoured by the flocks of grey before he returned back to his peaceful state. He leaned his head back in a lazy manner, watching the billowy clouds form as one and split like oil in water.

For a while Nick’s stress began to bleed out from a large gash on his forehead before there was a familiar pestering tapping at his relaxed shoulders. He peered over to see Ellis. He took a sharp breath in before releasing it, loudly, pulling at his headphones. He stared at him for a while until Ellis finally said something.

“You’re bleeding,” A soft voice muttered, “Do you want my tie?”

Nick scoffed and waved at him, dismissively.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that, Keith was just real excited to see you,” He mumbled, nervously.

Nick stared at him, in disbelief. What the hell, he thought to himself, grumbling loudly inside his own head, is he split personality or something? He waited for the kid to continue as Nick had no grasp of carrying the one sided conversation.

“What did it used to be like, Nick?” Ellis asked in his innocent tone.

Nick immediately collapsed under his hard shell cover act and Ellis began nervously twiddling his dirty thumbs around, doubting that Nick had any good in him. Nick swept his leg over the other and leaned towards Ellis. If he wasn’t going to be a tough guy he was at least going to be charismatic.

“Imagine,” Nick began in a hushed tone and the runt leaned in to listen up as his emerald eyes lit up in hope, Nick saw that, smirked and continued, “Stress free, wind in your hair, nothing but you and your thoughts.”

The small kid begun to glow and quickly took his hat off, acting out he could feel the wind in his messy, flicked hair. Nick chuckled to himself, shaking his head proudly, as he knew the wind was softer than the current of a still, isolated pond. Suddenly Ellis seemed so consumed in the idea of being peaceful that he stayed quiet and Nick patiently sat next to him, watching his clumsy movements. Nick gave a tiny sigh, taking in the peacefulness of having company.

 The bell sounded but Ellis didn’t flinch at all.

He slowly fixed his hat back onto his head but deathly sat, waiting for Nick to get up. Nick swept his belongings into his bag and swung it onto his boney shoulder, jumping onto his feet. Ellis watched him, carefully, as the tall older kid begun to gently tap down the slope. Nick stopped, suddenly and the kid flinched, leaning back into the seat.

“Aren’t you going to your last class?” He hissed; staying focused on the path in front of him.

His honey messy hair bounced about as he shook his head, “Nope.”

Nick sighed.

“Hey Nick, sorry again about Keith.”

His sweet voice lingered in the air and Nick shrugged before taking another quiet step forward, a few meters away before being swept into the herds of dull coloured kids.

“I know what you’re like, y’know.”

Nick stopped, his bag slamming against his boney hip hard but he was unaffected.

“No, you don’t know me,” He growled, quietly and Ellis looked taken aback before his flushing face soften into a gentle smile and he watched the angry, isolated teenager stomp away.

Ellis swung his large boots against the bench and screwed up his nose, nervously. He was flustered, glowing pink and clasped his small, messy hands together. He was waiting for the usual pack of search dogs, his teachers, to scavenge for his presence so he patiently postponed going anywhere and stayed on the isolated, hidden bench.

Chapter Text

Herds of large, bickering boys hovered around Nick as he entered his dorm room. He sighed and tried his hardest to slip past them, attempting to reach his bed.

“So how hard did you hit Chad?” They squawked, all synchronized.

He ignored their ignorance and swept around them to his bed, climbing onto it. It was dark blue like every other bed in the room but it was clear of wrinkles and in spectacular condition. His pajamas matched his bed colours; they were also nice and straight. Nick shared a dorm room with a large amount of the jocks, a few wrestlers and a simple guy, who was dark-skinned, slim and kept to himself mainly, though he was friendly with the others. This simple guy was sitting, cross-legged, on the bed across from Nick and as Nick clambered onto his own bed, they exchanged a friendly nod. For a while the guy kept his dark eyes on his book before hearing a few nasty words being spouted out freely and he shifted his eyes from the book to the group of large shouldered surrounding Nick’s bed, intimidatingly. Nick kept a cool head and stared at them blankly.

“All we want to know is how you managed to thrash him.”

“C’mon, dick head.”

“Homo, tell us.”

Nick inhaled, irritably and leaned back onto his hands.

“You guys really want to know?” He questioned with a sly undertone to his voice.

The large horde of brainless jocks leaned in, eagerly before Nick quickly shrugged.

“I don’t know, the story’s quite queer,” He muttered, acting at his best.

Loud irritated sighs sounded out and drew the room to a loud bickering level before Nick made a gesture, tapping one finger on his excellently defined jawbone and used his other hand to cradle his sharp elbow. Silence struck the room and all attention was on Nick again.

“Actually, you guys might not be queer enough to hear it.”

There was suddenly uproar.

“I AM QUEER ENOUGH!” One hollered and the others cheered.

Trying to prove their selves, one let a large slap rein down on another’s backside. Instead of the usual insult of being gay he clapped his large hands together and hooted, excitedly and in moments Nick’s dark blue bed was surrounding by jocks rudely touching one another, he began to snicker for a while before growing tiresome of the noise and an even louder command for quiet slipped out of his pale, thin lips.

“Well, there it is, you guys proved yourselves,” He begun to say and a few guys high-fived each other.

“I’ll tell you if you get into your beds and stay quiet.”

Before any argument could be started Nick quickly withdrew his book from under his pillow and the large buffoons slumped in their red, sporty sleep gear to their messy beds, dragging their dirty socks along the wooden floors. They heaved themselves into their beds and looked at Nick, expectantly.

“Properly,” Nick sighed.

There was a chorus of loud rustlings of sheets and all the jocks tucked themselves in, neatly. Nick kept his eyes on his book when the story of today’s event began to knit itself together cleverly out of his mouth.

“There I saw him, shoving one of the juniors about, so I went down and told him to stop but apparently he was intellectually defiant and couldn’t understand what I was saying so I thought, ‘Well he must understand my hand gestures’ and that’s when I threw it, swinging consistently.”

Nick was lying and he knew it but the jocks were vulnerable and kept quiet as the simple guy kept his eyes on Nick.

/

Ellis crossed his legs and kept his comic huddled close to him as he shrouded himself in his indigo duvet; he was intensely following the plot line when a file of people walked in. He attempted to finish his strip of large colours and worded bubbles. His scruffy hair was rubbed against his duvet as he turned his head and it fell out of place, he watched the intelligent juniors arrive and they all smiled and waved at him as they caught notice of the hermit crab Ellis had made of himself. They were wearing long legged pajama bottoms with button upon long sleeved pajama shirts, all different colours. He was familiar with three of them just by their pajama colours, the one in the white pajamas was Francis, he’s smart but Ellis never saw much of him, his voice was gravelly and he looked threatening although he was amongst, what Ellis assumed was, ‘the nerd group.’ Then there was the one in dark green, he’s a nice guy, Ellis always has to guess his name because he doesn’t know it off by heart, he nicknames him behind his back ‘Smokey’ because he’s consistently sick and is coughing as if he had smoked for majority of his life, his coughs aren’t pathetic and light but they’re rough and loud and sound painful. Joe is the last one that Ellis can name because of his lemon pajamas; he’s small and ginger and is swarmed with freckles. He’s one of the jocks younger brothers so Ellis usually sees them playing about, piggybacking or play fighting.

Immediately Francis leaned across his bed on the far side of the room and managed to spit out, almost as if he despised asking, “Are you okay?”

Ellis looked around, disoriented, lowering his duvet hood and Francis’s pale face caught his attention.

“I said, are you okay, Ellis?” He repeated, slightly irritated.

Ellis shrugged, “Why wouldn’t I be?” He chimed.

There was a loud mutter and all the boys became nervous, all burying their faces further into their large, impressive books. Francis cleared his throat and he began to search for a pair of eyes staring at him to rescue him from his loss of words, trying to find the right words by looking for them. Smokey quickly avoided eye contact with Francis and leaned over to his side table, fishing about for his inhaler.

“Y’know, about the fight that occurred this morning?” His voice sounded uncertain as if he were going to be corrected and embarrassed and he began to scratch the back of his neck.

Ellis looked oblivious for a while before creating an o with his mouth as he put his comic book down. He let out a giggle that shook, unsubtly, and tugged on his duvet, wrapping it around himself tighter. He let his shoulders rise up and slouch in a relaxed nerve.

“Oh, that, I nearly forgot,” As he let these words roll of his tongue, Francis’ stomach turned guiltily, “But that wasn’t even the bad part!”

He chuckled and the faces all lit up, nervously curious, wanting to press on for information.

“W-what was?” Joe stammered.

Ellis peered at the small ginger boy, who was barely a quarter of the size of his great bed. Ellis repaired face looked almost offended but he smiled gently, encouraging the boy’s self esteem.

“Well, I don’t know if any of y’all have even seen the-” He paused, leaning towards the center of the room for dramatic effect before whispering, “Headmaster.”

The room fell to a dead silence, except for the noise of Ellis’ comic book fluttered onto the floor, before one of the anonymous boys perked up.

“Yeah, he’s nice; he congratulates us on our good work.”

Ellis began to laugh with such a knowledgeable tone that all the boys watched him warily.

“No no, he most definitely is not nice, y’all should have seen him!” Ellis begun to get louder and louder, flailing his arms about and dropping his duvet, revealing his large dirty, yellow bed shirt that had a monster snarling on the front with a barely readable font.

“There was the boy from the fight there, not Chad, but another boy and wow, he was strong, I mean, really strong, he didn’t even cry when he got caned and he yelled at the headmaster so-”

Before Ellis could continue, Francis cut in.

“Caned? Isn’t that dis-allowed?” He inquired.

Ellis stayed distracted for a while before returning to Francis’ question.

“I don’t think so, I mean, the headmaster was doing it.”

Francis opened his mouth to say something else but the sound of footsteps broke off all conversation as the boys all tucked themselves in, too quick for Ellis to follow, and dug their heads back into their books.

The door swung open and Ellis’ name was hollered, in a tone of annoyance by the voice of a senior girl. He stared at the end of his bed for a while before the repetition of his name brought him back into reality and he scrambled about his bed, kicking his long legged, cartoon patterned pajama bottoms about and dove under his duvet, immediately sounding out a fake snore. There was suddenly a sigh that echoed through the dorm and a racket of books shutting and being stored away.

“Goodnight juniors.” The girl announced.

There was a dull chorus of replies, “Goodnight Zoey.”

Ellis heard nothing for a while and began to shuffle about; pulling his pillow under the covers so he could sleep in his own enclosure.

“Ellis, please, sleep tonight,” The girl’s voice quickly said, softly and worrisome.

Ellis furrowed his eyebrows with his eyes shut tight and screwed up his nose. He hustled into a ball and waited for the light switch to flick off and the door to shut.

Why should I care about what that dumb girl tells me to do? Ellis fumed in his head. She’s good for nothing; she’s so not too good for me.

He lay on his back and kicked upwards letting his duvet shoot upwards and tumble back onto him in a mess. There was a disturbance in the dorm and a few beds turned and Ellis lay completely still before thinking of Nick and turning on his side.

“He’s too good for me as well,” Ellis whispered under his duvet.

Chapter Text

The peak of sunrise slipped through the indigo curtains and slithered across Nick’s exhausted face as he lay, watching it and awaiting the painfully loud morning call with an anxious stomach. Nick managed to get no sleep and instead listened to the disgruntled snores of the others, twisting and turning throughout the night, but only hopelessly catching onto the pattern of their snores and counting a silent tempo in his head. There were purple bags under Nick’s grey, tired eyes and his skin was pale white, the only colour visible were his veins through his transparent skin and the black and blue bruises he had earned yesterday. Nick drowsily tried to block out the sun with a lazy arm, holding it up before spreading his slender fingers and letting the white rays slip through and he dropped his arm again.

“Morning,” A quiet, gentle voice said to Nick.

He jumped in his duvet, frightened, before looking across and seeing the black, slim boy leaning back on his thin, knobby elbow and rubbing his barely woken eyes with his free hand.

Nick glared for a while before adjusting and replying, “Oh, Good morning Louis.”

They exchanged a tired, understanding glance, though Louis’ was much more energized, and immediately both begun to fish their books out from beside their identical beds. Nick had noticed that the boy across from him spent vast quantities of his time reading the same yellow, thick book over and over and Nick’s tired mind allowed him to ask why.

“This book,” He leaned forward, almost excited that Nick had finally asked, “Is about this team of survivors who fight zombies but they are immune and humanity’s last hope, it’s the best book I’ve ever read, there’s two parts.”

Nick stared at him, exhausted and Louis immediately became self-conscious, scratching the back of his dark neck and avoiding Nick’s toxic eyes.

“There’s a guy called Nick in it,” He quietly mumbled, which perked Nicolas up.

“What’s he like?” Nick asked, interested, with a slow tone in his sharp voice.

Louis shut his yellow book, turned it over and tapped the bent and marked back cover.

He grinned and laughed, quietly, “They call him the complainer but I think he’s the smartest and maybe the coolest, he wears a suit but he was supposedly an escaped convict.”

Louis continued telling Nick about the character in the book before he examined his tired expression and stopped very suddenly. This made Nick tilt his head, questionably.

“You can read it, if you want.”

Nick smiled, softly, stretching his thin, blue lips into a criminalist grin, “Part one first, though.”

Louis laughed, leaning over the side of his neat bed and grabbing a green covered book.

“It’s got a group of survivors too, but it’s kind of sad,” Louis noted, frowning down at the book.

Nick could see that Louis really did invest quite a bit of his emotions into the books and as he took it, stretching his long arms, he smiled, genuinely, as excited as he could be with such lack of sleep.

He spent the rest of the early morning reading the first part of the book, introducing the characters in separate chapters, one dedicated to each. His eyes were heavy and begging for rest but he would force himself awake, interested in the story, until there was a sudden siren and a shrieking noise over a speaker.

“7:00 am, showers are open, head students are on their way so get up.”

The crackling, piercing noise rung through Nick’s dorm followed by a groan of all the boys, lazily trying to wake up. They kicked at tangled blankets before lying paralyzed by the cold air of the room; some cuddled back up but tried their best to look awake, widening their eyes and combing their large hands through their bedhead hair and some begun to stretch, brutally energetic, and annoy their friends. This ended in large tussles, punching and kicking at one another, so early in the morning, but Nick and Louis managed to absorb themselves so thoroughly into their books they didn’t complain about the motion around them. It came to a halt when a clipping of heels and jingling of keys on a necklace echoed down the corridor. Opening the door next door, muffled words were shared as the boys managed to make their selves orderly. Very suddenly, their door swung open, loudly.

“The sun is rising, it’s a new day so let’s go, boys, let’s go!”

Zoey shone, ready and brighter than any other student in the room. Her hazel hair, neatly, tied up already and her face was clean and shining and her red uniform was ironed and washed. She gestured towards all the love struck senior thugs, pointing them out the door, and they complied, all except Nick and Louis.

“You two,” She said, with a friendly tone, “C’mon, Louis!”

Louis pulled his neatly combed head from the book and looked around, almost astonished, but got up, fast, and made his way past Zoey without saying anything. Nick continued to read, clearly informed that the red annoyance was hovering over his bed.

“Hey, Nicolas, you were the one I met yesterday, right?”

Nick felt like denying it, he couldn’t forget about how annoying she was so he simply ignored her. She tried her hardest to keep in his way, sitting at the end of his bed and clearing her throat. She even tried to make conversation when she repeated the name of the book, pretending she knew anything about it.

“I get it, I’m going,” Nick finally said, irritated, putting down the book and clambering out of bed, slowly moving.

She quickly grabbed it before Nick could take it and place it in his personal drawer beside his indigo bed. She read the back and Nick stood with an aggressive stance, folding his arms, waiting for his book to return to him. She tapped with the ends of her long nails on the back cover, excitedly.

“There’s a Zoey!” She squeaked.

He growled, “Yes and she’s annoying too,” He snatched the book back, slipping it away safely.

She stayed on his bed when he tried to make it, jerking at the sheet underneath, indicating for her to remove herself from it. Instead, she leaned over to Nick.

“You’re so mysterious,” She muttered, through crimson lips.

Nick’s dark, sharp eyebrows twitched, furiously building up anger. He was tired and annoyed.

She giggled suggestively, trying to lie herself across his bed, seductively, “You’re, like, such a bad boy.”

Nick immediately let go off his sheet, knocking her hard, turned and stomped, as loud as his thin, clean socks could on the polished wooden planks, out of the room.

“Hey, you can’t hit a girl!” She squealed after him but Nick was out of ears reach by then.

Ellis had heard the chaos as all the boys, in unruffled pajamas, in front of him filed out of the dorm, towards the showers and a pale, tall boy with an angry expression, wearing dark blue pajamas stormed past his roommates and they all nervously flinched, clearing the path fast.

“Why are you so scared?” Ellis muttered to Smokey, trembling ahead of him.

Smokey turned to Ellis, shocked, before clearing away with the rest of the junior boys. Ellis chewed his bottom lip, a little cautious himself, before looking back at where Nick had emerged. Zoey was holding onto the doorframe, hurt and confused with her thin body rested upon it as if she were a fair maiden waiting for her prince to return, before she caught Ellis’ wide, innocent eyes and turned away, sharp. She went back into the senior boy’s room and pushed the oak door shut. Ellis, following his actions before his delayed thoughts, crawled along the hallway to the senior boy dorm. He peered through the crack of the door, watching Zoey zip from side to side, clearing out of his vision but then stumbling back in it. She eventually was seen, curious and suspicious, clasping the green book, a key and an envelope and as Ellis tried his hardest to figure out why, he caught a glimpse of the name on the envelope, ‘Nicol-’ He screwed his hazel eyebrows together, pushed his hand gently against the door before his name was called in a husky voice with a strict tone.

“Ellis!” When he turned, praying it wasn’t the headmaster, the janitor, dressed in a dark green suit, stared at him, furious.

Ellis sighed in relief but as he was distracted, Zoey hurried about, putting the things back into Nick’s drawer.

“Hello Bill,” He greeted the Janitor in his usual, familiar green attire.

His cart full of colourful and toxic cleaning supplies was steered with great control in one hand and the other crooked hand was pointing at the junior, who was well too calm.

“Say, was it your blood and mess in the bathroom that you left Ms. Spitter to clean?” He questioned and Ellis immediately guiltily nodded, shaking his shaggy, honey hair about.

“But not all mine!” He immediately added, desperate for Bill to understand without telling him.

Bill shook his head, knowing he knew it but sympathetically, before he trundled closer.

“How did you make such a sty?” He pushed his trolley into the first room of the long hallway but he stayed in the doorway, throwing a shadow over Ellis’ bruised and cut up face.

Ellis shrugged, flushed red and began to tug on his large, dirty, mustard coloured shirt. Before Bill could say anything else, Zoey pushed through and charged past Ellis, clutching something in her hands.

“Morning, head girl,” Bill said, pleasantly.

Zoey smiled, “Good morning, Janitor Richard.”

When she was out of sight he frowned and looked over at nervous Ellis with sad, blue eyes.

“I don’t like people addressing me as an authority or as Richard, reminds me of the time in-” He paused before hurrying himself into the other junior room to clean.

Ellis stared at the door slowly swaying shut and waited.

“Hey, turd, get out of here.”

There was a loud growl behind him and he raised his shoulders, almost waiting for a punch, because the threatening, low voice belonged to Chad, who happened to come up the stairs from the stench full sports department.

“I’m going, Chad,” Ellis murmured, slowly making his way down the corridor.

“It’s Coach to you, junior,” He hissed.

Ellis frowned but didn’t look the buff, black figure in the eye and stared at his oversized socks pushing themselves along the wooden floor instead.

“I don’t do a sport though,” He replied, quietly, his voice sounding like a kitten’s desperate meow.

Chad gave him a shove, stomping past, and Ellis stumbled, pathetically.

“Just so happens that you joined the one of the baseball teams, junior, see you at training tonight.”

“Okay,” Ellis whispered, not even loud enough for brain-dead Chad to hear.

Ellis sighed but waited until the heavy footsteps were out of ear-reach and kept shuffling towards the showers.

Chapter Text

“So you joined the baseball team?” Keith’s thick southern accent spoke through the hot shower steam.

“It was kind of compulsory.”

The two juniors emerged from the showers and into the locker room, towels around waists and little beads of water dribbled down their tan, dirty necks. The boy’s locker room was always disgusting, not just in cleanliness but in how they act, whipping one another, picking on juniors or flexing, pathetically.

“Oh man, I guess I’d better join!” Keith patted Ellis on the back before heading to his locker over the way.

Ellis’ locker happened to be closer to the entrance which he never really enjoyed, he always was stared at by the school boys when they would enter, usually in packs like predators hunting prey, and they would snigger usually because Ellis hadn’t exactly been able to earn any chest hair or, much rather, any other hair on his body apart from his head or face.

He unlocked his compartment and pulled his baby blue shirt out, it was untidily crumpled in a ball but he didn’t care.

“Word is you’re on the baseball team, Elly Belly!” A senior boy howled at him, snickering.

Ellis ignored him and begun to organize his uniform.

“Great,” Someone’s sour, low voice hissed as they entered and as Ellis frowned, he looked across and saw grumpy Nick walking into the room, freshly out of the showers.

His body was pale and thin but he was in great shape, his arms held his white, fluffy towel up around his hips and he caught Ellis staring at his chest, decorated by soft, black hair, and his stomach had a tiny trail going from his belly button to further beyond his towel. But Nick also glared at Ellis’ naked stomach, clear of fur, but tan and complimented by a scar that ran from his shoulder to his right pectoral muscle, Nick looked shocked. Ellis caught his expression and found himself growing pink in the cheeks and quickly jerked his blue, ruffled shirt over his shoulders and buttoned it up, fast. Nick hurried around the corner of the lockers and began to open his locker over a few rows.

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself as he shuffled through his neatly folded clothing, pulling a new clean shirt out.

“Hey Nicolas, hear that little wimp, you smashed Chad for, is on the team?”

There was a buff, tall guy opening his locker beside Nick’s. He had muscular arms and veins largely pulsed through viciously, everyone admired his body but was repulsed by his reputation for not being able to get a girlfriend, so rumors grew about him jacking himself off in the dorm room and other such disgusting things. Nick wasn’t sure if they were real or not but he was glad that he didn’t share a dorm with him.

“Yes,” Nick sighed, “I have, Charge.”

He sniggered and dropped his towel, confidently, which made Nick groan and turn away to put on his straight, neat shirt.

“Hey, I’m doing you a favor,” He said, loudly and offended.

“No, you’re not, you really don’t understand,” Nick replied, feistiness rolling off his sharp tongue.

Charge screwed his red nose up and yanked his grey boxers out of his untidy locker. When he put them on Nick faced him again, figuring he was decent now.

“So how’s Joe?” Nick asked, getting his own white, perfect condition underwear out and slipping them on under his towel.

“Annoying, always laughing, bouncing and running around, energetically.”

Nick shrugged.

“Like your boy, Ellis.”

Nick growled.

“Don’t deny it, everyone saw you two hanging out.”

“He’s not mine,” Nick’s voice bitterly lingered on the word mine, “I just hate when Chad picks on juniors, especially ones that don’t deserve it.”

“It’s ok,” Charge laughed, trying to wind Nick up, “I would have done anything to protect my girlfriend.”

“Do you mean your hand?” Nick hissed, flickering hurtful words of his devil tongue.

Charge paused but tried to shrug it off and Nick fumed, angrily thinking about things. They finished getting dressed in silence, awkwardly, before Charge exited with the other jocks before Nicolas could gather his apology. Nick gathered his leather satchel and shoveled his books in, as well as folding his pajamas and slotting them into his locker in orderly fashion. Nick was always last to leave by choice, he’d do everything slowly so he could absorb the peace and relax for a bit but the atmosphere of the empty cloakroom had been disturbed. He ignored it and swung his satchel over his boney shoulder, making his way to the exit.

“Uh, hey Nick,” A squeak sounded behind him.

He rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder, in annoyance, “What do you want?”

To his surprise, Ellis was sitting down on the bench between two sets of lockers, still with his fluffy, white towel around his waist and his blue shirt buttoned terribly. He looked small and vulnerable. His wet hair was shaken about but he sat twirling a loose piece of hair between his index finger and his thumb.

“I hate to ask, but the seniors,” Ellis kept pausing, reluctant, “They, well, they took my… Y’know what I’m fine, catch you later Nick!” He grinned, politely.

Nick turned completely around and stared at the nervous hillbilly.

“What did they take?” Nick asked, squinting with his tired eyes angrily.

Ellis shrugged and laughed, batting his long, feminine eyelashes at him.

“Nothin’!” His innocent, sweet voice shook but he kept smiling.

Nick moved closer, as cautiously as if he were approaching a wild animal, and sat next to him, planting himself facing away.

“You can just tell me.”

Ellis scratched the back of his shaggy, honey head and shrugged, slower and almost sadly, though Ellis didn’t allow himself to show that emotion. He fumbled about with gestures.

“They, uh, kind of, um, took my uniform when I wasn’t looking.”

Nick groaned and got up, releasing a small, infuriated kick on the lockers in front of him.

“What the hell is their problem?” He muttered in a fearsome voice, “Why do they have to pick on you, Ellis? You’re a good kid!”

Nick made his way to his own locker and fished out some of his own clothing, neatly ironed and cleaned. He got a pair of grey shorts, a white tie and a navy, furry jersey and delivered them to Ellis, who was shaking from the cold, on the bench.

“Do- do you have a hat?” He whispered, stroking the clean fabric.

Nick frowned, “No.”

Ellis flinched at his sharp, mean reply but grateful nodded. He got up and dropped his towel; his burgundy underwear gave Nick a shock because he was so used to wearing white underwear so it was always absurd to see another colour. Ellis begun to fumble about with the shorts in his hands before looking over at Nick, slightly embarrassed.

“Uh, you’re really tall, aren’tcha?”

Nick would have been offended if it weren’t for the fact that Ellis looked so small holding the long shorts and looked even more innocent when he tried to put them on. He hopped around, tangling about with the pants, before sitting down and pulling them up, slowly and focused, sticking his tiny, pink tongue out in concentration. Eventually he zipped them up and tried rolling up the legs to get them above his scraped, bruised knees.

“You don’t have to wait for me, y’know?” Ellis told him, trying to be considerate.

Nick raised a sharp, dark eyebrow but waited, arms folded, “I have to make sure it’s ok,” He tried not to look like he cared about Ellis by moving back to his locker so he added aloud, “And I have to do my hair anyway.”

He took a pot of gel out from his locker and stood in front of the mirror that he could still see Ellis in the slight corner of the mistreated, small mirror. He applied some mint green gel to the ends of his slim, long fingers and combed it through his dark hair.

When Ellis pulled the jersey of his scruffy hair, Nick quickly reminded him to fix his buttons.

“Oh that’s right,” He murmured, removing the jersey and trying to do up his buttons orderly.

Nick continued to watch him slightly through the reflection.

“I ain’t ever had one of these jumpers before,” He watched Ellis say excitedly.

Ellis put it on and cuddled himself in it, calling it nice and toasty, and Nick felt happy for him.

Once Ellis was ready, with his muddy, clunky boots on his feet, and wearing a giant jumper, rolled up shorts and nothing on his head, Nick put his gel away. He picked up the white tie from the bench and made Ellis stay still as he did it up for him, along with tucking it under the jersey. Ellis returned to his locker, suddenly, and started pushing his books in his backpack, messily and Nick sniggered at the absent minded kid.

Eventually they were ready and emerged from the lockers, side by side. Nick looked at Ellis who was wearing large clothing and holding his backpack straps, peering with his emerald eyes around for Keith and Nick bit his thin, pale bottom lip. Ellis waved at a ginger headed kid, covered in dirt already, racing towards the two.

“Science,” Keith howled, excitedly and Ellis nodded in return, clasping his small hands together under his chin.

Keith caught sight of Nick and looked as if he were going to scamper away before grinning with his missing teeth revealed, confidently. Nick gave a quick jerk of his head, greeting him and also signaling farewell, before making a sharp turn and hiding behind a wall. Nick pushed himself up against the brick wall, holding his satchel bag still and quiet, as he heard the two junior’s converse, unintelligibly.

“Oh man, you look like one of ‘em shrunk persons!” Keith snickered.

“I think I look damn great, Nick was nice enough to give me some uniform,” Ellis replied, his voice high and excited, drooling like honey from his tongue.

Nick exhaled, infuriated, and muttered that it was merely a lending of clothing to protect his pride.

Keith sniggered before going silent and whispering, “Ain’t he a scary lookin’ senior fella though?”

Ellis made a horse like noise and grew defensive, calling Nick admirable before the loud, long ring of the bell pushed the boys to class. Nick let go of his bag and moved out, staring into space and thinking through all sorts of emotions in his head, as his polished dress shoes slowly moved one in front of the other.

“Huh,” Nick muttered to his self, “Uh, Math.”

Chapter Text

The anonymous, confident senior tapped the wooden, intimidating baseball bat against his white training shoes before stomping, kicking dust about, on the plate. He was surrounded by a large chain fence and faced an open, green plantain that a spiteful looking senior stood in, bored, cupping a red and white ball in a large, hazel mitt. Nick tossed it around, extremely out of focus, as the team prepared their positioning on the field. A blow horn went off and two juniors left over at the back of the field jumped though Nick kept his cool.

“C’mon, Nick,” Chad growled, clasping his giant, gorilla-like hands together nervously.

Nicolas changed his stance and stood, firm and aggressive. He tossed his hair backwards, covered up by a blue and white striped hat, glared at the baseball pitcher in opposing colours until he shifted awkwardly under Nicolas’ deadly glance. Suddenly the small sphere shot right past the batters delayed swing and landed in the weary mitt of the keeper.

“Wow,” Keith’s distracting voice lingered around the field and Ellis stood on tiptoes, excitedly, cheering.

Nick tried to shrug them off as he settled down, catching the ball and tossing it between the mitt and his bare hand. The batter flushed and muttered something to his self, in a bitter tone, before tapping the inner of his shoe. The keeper flicked his thick finger toward and Nick gave a swift nod to the keeper, crouched stiffly before swinging his arm fast and releasing the ball softly. The batter swung with all his effort, just to sweep past it too early and it softly landed into the mitt. A loud cheer came from the back of the field and Nick sighed, annoyed, already figuring out who produced the annoying squeak of approval. Ellis grinned, blearing his shining, white teeth, watching Nick in awe.

Nick rolled his shoulders backwards before receiving the ball once again.

“C’mon, Nicolas, you’ve got this, boy,” Chad muttered, leaning closely over the sideline.

“Man, Ellis, this is kind of boring,” Keith announced, beginning to sit down on the lush, short grass.

Ellis furrowed his eyebrows together, “Naw, that’s not the attitude!”

A few seniors glanced over their shoulders in annoyance, eyes furiously anxious. Keith caught their despising glances and turned away, awkwardly shuffling in a semicircle. Ellis watched him do this, slipped a subtle glance over at the fielding seniors in matching uniform and chewed on his bottom lip.

“Holy cow, Ellis, look!” Keith hollered, his thick accent swum through the atmosphere, as he pointed beyond Ellis’s view.

 Ellis quickly looked, clasping both his hands together, sweaty palms sticking to one another like glue. Nick swung the ball back, clenched in a fist of whitening knuckles before launching it, distracted by Keith’s sudden outburst of excitement. The ball pathetically flung from Nick’s twitching palm and made hard contact with the wooden cylinder base and a rival roar was produced behind the fence the opposing teams were clinging to.

“ELLIS!” Chad’s low voice yelled, desperate, as the baseball shot, too fast to focus on, in his direction.

He spun his head and readied his hands before being impaled by the object in the head, knocking him backwards off his feet and onto his back with a solid thud that left the field in silence. His baseball cap released grip from his head and launched in another direction as he had fallen. Heavy anxiety flooded the audience of the fallen boy before a stern voice inappropriately expressed his opinion about the two juniors. Feet suddenly took action and stomped in his direction. Ellis gently opened his eyes and stared into the blaring sun, peering out from two clouds, also anxiously awaiting Ellis’s wellbeing before the view had been filled with a smaller, darker figure. Ellis began to prop his feathered weight onto his elbow before a soft hand on his chest pushed him back down, effortless.

“See why I hooked the fuckwit now, Nicolas?” Growled Chad, as his voice approached.

Nick’s voice came back, slick and sly, “See why I hooked the fuckwit now, Coach?” in a bitter, sarcastic tone. His soft, low voice also seemed to be coming closer.

A gentle hand pushed across his forehead and swept back his fluffy, curly hair, best it could. Ellis’s emerald eyes could barely hold themselves open as a soft voice kept telling him he’s okay.

“Ah shit,” Chad’s low voice muttered, blocking out the rays of warmth.

Footsteps begun to distance away from Ellis’s head as the heavy shape, still hovering in the way of light, turned slightly, “Hey ginger, where are you going?” His voice suddenly yelled, painfully.

There was no response but opinions were quickly shared. Nick shuffled over and leaned over the African girl putting pressure onto the junior’s messy hairline. She pushed her dreadlocked ponytail back and looked up at the pale senior, anxiously waiting, with a subtle, shaky smile. She lifted her hand slightly and her plump, dark lips turned downwards at the corners, she turned a lighter shade and began to scan her hand. A shock of nervousness shot down Nick’s spine as he observed the gushing blood running over his head and through his honey, shining hair.

“Get him up!” Nick suddenly burst, making big hand gestures of a pulling motion, waving his hands towards himself.

Chad tilted his head to look at Nick in a puzzled but aggressive expression but hooked his hands underneath the slowly loosing conscious junior and shifted him up so he was sitting up. The blood took another direction and crimson stained his nose as it dribbled down.

“Rochelle,” Chad begun sentimentally as he yanked Ellis off the ground and onto his back, like a puppet hanging uselessly by its strings, “Are you coming?”

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

“I’m coming,” Nick insisted, firmly, swiping Ellis’s small, dusty baseball cap off the ground and clutching it in his sweaty palms.

“No, you have a game to finish, Coach’s orders” He fiercely ordered before adding on, “You had his back before, let me help him now.”

“Now, hold on-” Ellis’ sickly voice peeped, “I’m batting soon, I need to be ready.”

Chad grumbled, “Lunatic,” Under his heavy voice.

“No, sweetie, quiet,” Rochelle whispered, grasping Ellis’ limp hand.

Ellis loosely motioned around, “Give Nick my hat, it’s super lucky and he’ll win!” He mumbled, indirectly.

Nick sighed with a shake of his head, scanning the weary hat and discreetly passed Ellis’s cap to Rochelle. Chad hobbled off the field as Rochelle trailed behind him, admiringly and Nick swiftly returned to his pitching base, shoulders back and head high. The other team watched, awkwardly shuffling about, pretending they didn’t try peer into Rayford High’s business. Nick retrieved his mitt and ball from his feet and the idea of winning burned vigorously in his mind as he readied himself.

Chapter Text

“Oh that’s great news!”

“Sheesh, back down kid,” Nick’s sour voice muttered.

He reached his hand forward onto Ellis’ chest and pushed at him, forcing him to flop back onto the bed. The small junior gave a grunt as he landed. His hair had been pulled back into a small ponytail as a large, white plaster occupied his hairline, it had crimson flowering in the middle. Ellis was sunken in a single, light blue bed with a vine pattern duvet and matching pillows. He stared at the ceiling and screwed up his scarred, button nose. Nick was sitting on a chair beside his bed, at the end. He was still in his baseball gear and had Ellis’ baseball cap in his hand, tossing it from side to side. He looked worn out as his hair hadn’t been gelled back and hung in front of his scarred forehead, messily. There was only silence between the two before Rochelle emerged in the doorframe, her small figure outlined by the light of outside.

“Chad’s coming back in a few minutes,” She told them, in an airy voice.

Nick nodded before pulling a chair closer to his and ordered Rochelle to sit in it. She followed his hostile orders and gently swept into the chair. The three of them sat as the fan on the ceiling make a repetitive sound, slicing through the heavy atmosphere. Ellis’ voice again perked up and Nick almost groaned as he watched him sit up once more.

“I bet I was a good supporter though, Nick!” The boy shone his smile and shuffled about in his bed excitedly.

Nick began to sigh before Rochelle agreed and giggled, encouraging Ellis’ behavior. Nick firmly ordered Ellis to lie down before he knocks him out otherwise and Ellis thumped back down with a leap. He was still smiling though.

“I wish I could have watched,” Rochelle said, softly smiling.

Nick nodded again, unconvincingly appreciative towards Rochelle. Coach’s large frame appeared in the doorway and his voice boomed, “How’s the kid holding up?”

Ellis immediately took this as an invitation to sit up once again and he pulled two thumbs up, “I’m fine, I don’t take no damage with anything, I’m immune,” He chattered on before Nick shot of look of burning anger and he lay down immediately.

“Great,” He replied, bored, before leaning in Nicolas direction, “Saw the rest of your game, Nicolas, got to say, you had good effort.”

The senior shrugged.

“Boy, you really knocked them out,” Chad told him before slightly chuckling at his own implication to Ellis’ condition, “But the only thing you need to work on is your focus, your mind was elsewhere, Nicky boy.”

Nick shrugged again.

“Ellis!” Coach suddenly remembered, “Your pal, ginger, he’s off the team but you’re getting one more chance, junior.”

“I can’t do it without Keith!” He almost shouted, “He’s my brother, it ain’t right to separate us!”

“Well where is he now?” Nick suddenly hissed as hatred for the ginger junior rolled off his sharp tongue. He regretted it as fast as he said it.

Ellis lay frozen before muttering, “He’s busy, he’s going to be here soon,” He got louder and began kicking his feet in eagerness, “He’s going to rush up to me and say ‘Look at you champ you’re gone get a cool scar’ and then he’ll give me a hug and then he’ll have to go but he’ll say bye and stuff!”

Nick rolled his eyes. Rochelle frowned.

“Okay, queer, but I need to get going so I’ll see you two at the meeting tomorrow,” Chad stated before looking over at Rochelle, feeble hands folded over one another, as she stared down, “Uh, Ro, let’s go, right?”

Her dark, slim face flushed and she hurried to Coach’s side. Her figure was much smaller than his but she looked up to him, adoringly and their frames were consumed by the sunlight. Ellis sighed and turned onto his side, facing the wall, away from Nick. Nick’s chair scraped along the tiles as he dragged it up to the head of the bed. He leaned his arms down onto the bed and his chin rested on top of his bare arms.  Ellis sighed again, quietly, into his duvet.

“You alright, sport?” Nick murmured, almost despising asking.

“Mhm, I just want to go home,” He whimpered.

Nick watched the back of Ellis’ head bob up and down as he spoke and his small ponytail swayed, Nick found himself absurdly attracted to how Ellis’ looked with his luscious, golden curls back in a tie. He shook himself of the fact.

“Four months and you go where ever you want,” Nick said before whispering, “Where ever you can go.”

“Where are you going?” Ellis asked, quietly.

Nick groaned, he hated talking about personal business but he continued to tell the small, curled up ball of junior. “Well to my fathers, most likely.”

“I’d like to go to my ma’s but I can’t,” Ellis began and without Nick having to ask the suddenly burning question, Ellis went into further details, “She’s not at home, she’s gone away again but I don’t want to go to grandmama’s so I think I’ll have to stay here.”

Nick leaned forward until his face was nearly buried in blankets, “Why not go to your fathers?”

“I’d like to, maybe if I ever met him I could,” Ellis said, ecstatically, still curled inside the blue blanket and Nicolas felt guilty.

He leaned back again and straightened up, “You’ll figure something out,” He eventually muttered, blandly, “Well I best go.”

Nick looked over his shoulder at the empty room and Ellis piped up, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I do-” Nick began before he stared at the small outline of Ellis, innocently curled up almost like a kitten.

“Where will you go?” Ellis whispered.

“To my study,” Nick replied, quick and loud, “Come on.”

Ellis shifted and craned his head, “What?”

“You said you don’t want to be alone and if you don’t hurry up I will leave you behind.”

Chapter Text

The room was very small and there was only a small, window above the wooden, polished desk. Papers flooded the oak wood surface and books had been stacked underneath the desk. There had been two large bookshelves, fit with books, on one side of his study and on the other was a velvet black two seat sofa, decorated with a white fleece blanket and a large black pillow, laced with gold thread and another smaller pillow in front of it, grey and fluffy. Nick allowed Ellis to enter first and he stared in awe, admiring the wall hangings of riches and morbidly inspiring sketches.

“Wow, your study is amazing,” Ellis stuttered, touching incredible condition pens and items.

“Stop, stop touching stuff,” Nick growled, “Don’t, no, don’t you dare touch that, just stop, sit down, don’t touch anything and just sit down on the couch please.”

Ellis beckoned to the sofa as Nick shut the door and fixed all the out of place items. He eventually retired into his desk chair and spun to face Ellis. Emerald eyes continued to scan the room in complete admiration. Nick watched the juniors glowing face excitedly adjust to new surroundings.

“You got a lot of stuff, don’t cha Nick?” He mumbled, distracted.  “You must be rich!” Ellis continued to babble and Nick sighed.

Nick’s grey eyes were glued to the small, innocent junior as he squirmed excitedly about the couch. Eventually Ellis noticed Nick watching him and flushed a light red; he shook his head and began to tug on his ponytail.

“I look like a dork with this stupid hair,” He grumbled.

“No,” Nick responded, too fast and tried to cover up, “You look like a dork anyway.”

Though Nick had intended to offend the junior, he laughed and left his ponytail in but pushed his cap onto his head. Nick smiled, relieved.

“Won’t we get caught skipping?” Ellis asked Nick, suddenly nervous of the idea.

Nick gave an irritated sigh and got back onto his feet; he slowly walked to the door and locked it. He stood by the lock and raised his eyebrows.

“No,” He groaned.

He moved back over and took a seat beside Ellis on the couch. The honey headed junior had his knees pulled up and his clumpy boots on his the sofa. Nick furiously stared before shrugging down his anger, knowing the stench of his socks would be far worse than any damage to the velvet furniture.  Ellis draped the blanket over his legs and shoulders and turned back into his small ball of protection. Nick sniggered at the sight but Ellis shook his head and chewed his lip, playfully mocking himself. The two stared at each other as Ellis pulled faces and Nick slyly admired Ellis.

“Boy, Nick, you sure seem like the scary type at first but now that I know you, you’re real cool!” He smiled and laughed.

Happiness radiated from him as if he was the sun and Nick was the moon, letting the radiation shine through him. Nick felt the air become lighter as if the junior’s presence had made it that way. Nick watched the juniors lips curl at the edges as he smiled back at him. Nick felt a warm sensation inside his chest and he rushed forward over the junior to kiss him. He leaned in fast and swooned Ellis midsentence, feeling the electricity spark between them and the warmth of Ellis’ plump, virgin lips until there was sudden movement beneath him and Ellis had pushed him and jerked away from the couch. He stood in the middle of the study, breathing fast and eyes widened.

“Ellis, I-” Nick began before Ellis rushed to the door and fumbled with the lock.

“Ellis, hold on, please let me explain-” Nick shouted after Ellis as he stomped out and ran down the hallway, loudly landing with each step. Nick sighed and slumped down into the small sofa and pulled a cushion to his pale face. He yelled into it, ferocious energy rushing through his veins and anger shaking his hands. The feeling of regret and fury swam in his lungs and he finished with a painful groan, lowering the pillow.

He slammed his fists down, pain spreading along his hands at an alarming rate.

“God fucking damn it!” He spat.

Chapter Text

A piercing, shrill of a bell sounded and Nick awoke, in shock, pushing a pillow off his chest. He had fallen asleep on the velvet, dark sofa, lined with a golden fabric, his head perked on the thin arm. Rubbing his eyes furiously, he heaved himself on to his feet in a hurry and scavenged for his uniform before a sudden realization of today’s events swept into Nicolas’ lungs and he begun to lose his breath, fearing what will take place in the dinner hall. Rain hammered against his small, box of a window, gushing down in a competitive way and the cold wind howled, thrashing and convincing trees to heave themselves against the school building. Nick managed to sweep all his clothes together and change out of his baseball uniform, leaving them in a neat pile beside the cushion he replaced.

“It’s fucking cold in here,” He muttered to himself, anger replaced every emotion in his body.

He rushed to his closet, hidden behind his side table, flooded with novels of all sorts, grey and black dominating the piles. Throwing the door open he scavenged, pulling the hangers along with a painful shriek, before remembering his jumper had been given to Ellis, which his face began to flourish with red at the thought of asking for it back, so he pulled out his dark grey coat instead and a scarf, wounding it around his pale, cold neck. In a rush, he slammed his door shut and began to run down the empty corridors, echoing with every heeled footstep. He turned a corner sharp before bumping into someone, large and towering over him, he fell back onto the ground. Nick began to collect himself before noticing it had been a professor who had previously taught him French before he dropped the subject.

“Oh, apologies Gale, I didn’t see where I was going.”

The old man, tall with a sharp nose, peered down at him with a slight frown. His slim, drooping face scanned the thin senior below him before outstretching his long, arm with his robe arm rolled up half way. Gale Seiznerisles had favored Nick in his classes, amazed at his outstanding ability to respond without hearing the question, and even begged Nick to stay in his class. Nick also had the upper hand as Gale Seiznerisles preferred to be called Mr. Seiznerisles but Nick, stubborn with his ways, continuously called him Gale, and defeated, he let him.

“Late to dinner, are we, Nicolas?” He spoke, droning.

Nick, firmly grasping the intimidating teacher’s hand, got to his feet and brushed himself off, quickly. He nodded, apologetic once again and met Gale’s dark hazel eyes, surrounded by bags.

“How about I take you up?” Gale offered, giving a lazy half smile as best his pale, ancient face would let him, “I’ll make up an excuse for you.”

“That would be greatly appreciated, thanks Gale,” Nick answered, relief swept through him.

They walked side by side, Gale’s hands behind his back, slowly pacing as his dark robe swept around him, and Nick dug his hands deep into his coat pockets, trying to keep at the pace of the towering individual beside him.

“Why are you late, Nicolas?” Gale eventually asked when the sound of their footsteps begun to drown out as they approached the dining hall, across the courtyard.

Nick, being asked this, flushed red and began to loosen his scarf as he searched his mind for a quick lie. He couldn’t come up with anything so he decided to bend the truth a tad.

“I had baseball and went back to my study to get changed and went for a nap, which turned out to be much longer than I intended,” He almost choked and even Gale barely believed what was coming out of his quiet, quick mouth.

Gale cleared his throat as they faced the entrance of the hall, which had, sitting right outside, a small crowd of professors smoking, a large grey cloud of toxic air hung round the top of them.

“Why is he late, Gale?” One of them spoke up.

Seiznerisles put his lanky hand on one of Nicolas’ shoulders before telling them he had stayed back to help him pick up the pages of a French book which had fallen apart and staple it back together. Nick felt the sudden urge the cringe as the huddle of teachers, who immediately recognized him, didn’t believe it but said nothing more.

“Thank you, boy,” Gale said, acting terribly as he dismissed him with a wave of his slender palm.

Inside the banquet hall fell silent as the pale teenager, highlighted by dark features, stepped in with a clip of his heel. Eyes watched him carefully as he slowly made his way to a table, a small space perfect for him in between Smokey and a boy he barely saw before. An empty platter laid before him and Smoker begun to twitch nervously, just being in the presence of Nicolas, who, when he reached over to serve himself, flinched just at the movement. Nick only ate a small amount at dinner by choice and almost everyone had finished their meal, consisting of mashed potatoes and a stewed broth, with consistency of vomit. The volume level inside the hall began to return to its original state.

Nick began to serve himself his stew, scooping the metal ladle inside the one of many porcelain, large bowls placed at an even spacing along the table. He hit something inside it which made a weird noise and before curiosity got the best of him someone snickered further along the table, he shot a dirty look back which made them immediately quieten down. He began to dig deeper inside before pulling out something, dripping in meaty stew. He pushed it on to his empty, china plate, and immediately recognized it, grabbing his napkin and wiping the front of it. It was Ellis’s precious hat. Smoker stared at it and Nick turned and met his green, widened eyes before Smoker, delayed but sharp, turned back to his own food, picking at it nervously with his fork. There was a loud outburst of laughter, hysterically cackling, at the end of the table as Nick wiped the hat completely with his napkin, it was stained and smelt awful. Charge immediately stood up, slammed his hands down on the table in hysterics.

“Oh boy! That is hilarious!” He bellowed, pointing his sausage-like finger at Nick.

Nick immediately spat back, “Shut the fuck up, Charge.”

“C’mon, Nicky, it was funny!” He said, “Get a sense of humor, pansy.”

Nick shot up in his seat and the hall fell silent.

Smokey began to hack up beside him, scavenging for his inhaler in his pockets.

“You did this?” He growled with such a ferocious intensity that Charge backed down.

He scanned the entire hall, which fell as far back to which he couldn’t see, before spotting Ellis whose shaggy head hung down, shoulders drooped and face almost touched his barely touched plate of food. Nick screwed up his face, sitting back in his seat with a thump. Looking at the hat, he poked it with his silver fork, imprinted finely at the end.

“I know who did it,” Smokey coughed to Nick, trying his best to keep his gravelly voice quiet.

Nick turned and sneered. “Oh yeah?”

Smokey immediately looked down at his lap, fondling with his inhaler in his abnormally slender hands. He nodded his neatly combed head, slowly.

“You going to tell me?” Nick asked.

With Nick’s wolf eyes daggering him, his pale face flushed almost purple, “Not here.”

“Then where?” He quickly shot back at Smokey.

Suddenly there was a chime and the head girl had risen from the head of the girls table. A clatter of cutlery sounded on every table, at every seat and Zoey shone proudly.

“You are dismissed.”

Smokey quickly left his chair, hurried away with his plate as Nick watched him, his thin, black brows furrowed and a frown spread across his face.

Francis touched the body buried underneath Ellis’s duvet and the lump squirmed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and Ellis, wrapped up inside his blanket, rolled the other way, making a pathetic squeak. Francis let a sigh release from his downturned lips.

“You didn’t deserve that,” Francis started. “That Nick guy is bad news.”

Ellis pulled the covers down, barely missing Francis with his arms and screwed up his red, button nose.

“You don’t know him like I do!” He exclaimed.

Francis stared at Ellis and the other guys in their beds pretended to mind their own business, burying their noses in their thick, impressive books with their beady eyes watching over the top.

Francis grumbled before warning him, “Guys like Nick don’t need friends so you’re pushing your luck as it is.”

Ellis shook his shaggy head, coils of golden bouncing left and right.

“I’ll show you,” Ellis grunted, pulling his duvet right back over his head.

For a while, the room went still before the springs in Ellis’ bed rose and Francis moved back to his own bed.

Chapter Text

“Aw, Joe, I’m sorry you got sick.”

Ellis sat by the small, ginger boy clutching a bowl as beads of sweat ran down his pale face. They were in the sickroom and Ellis dragged a chair with white, peeling arms that had fallen victim of bored students and a blue cushion, to beside Joe, shivering and tiny in comparison to the big bed he lay in.

“I’ll be fine soon anyway,” Joe mumbled.

He gave a weak smile at Ellis.

“Do you know what made you sick?” Ellis asked, leaning close to Joe.

He shrugged and Ellis patted his arm, sympathetically.

“What do you think you’re doing, young man?!” A howl came from behind him. “You’re going to get sick too!”

A large lady shuffled into Ellis’ sight, dressed in an unflattering white dress that looked as if it were made from paper and a slippers of light brown material. Her dark brown hair, streaked with grey, was done up tightly in a bun and she wore not a speck of makeup. In her hand she held a small, plastic cup of pink liquid.

“Do you know what he’s sick with?” Ellis asked, unfazed.

She stared down at the junior. “No.”

“Is it contagious?” He asked.

She passed the cup to Joe and instructed he drink it before responded to Ellis. “I’m not sure.”

He looked at Joe then back at the lady as he began to ask another question she cut him off.

“You best be leaving just in case,” She told him. “He’ll be better soon.”

Ellis did as he was told, standing up and leaving. He waved goodbye to Joe who immediately responded with a sickly green face. He stepped out in to the rain, spitting down as he fixed his hat on to his head. Nick had bought him a new hat, identical to his last, and though he didn’t feel like it was his hat he wore it because Nick had given it to him. He supposed it was an apology for kissing him but he pretended he had forgotten about it. It had been four months and days were just counting down until winter break started. Pulling his arms around himself, he started towards Nick’s study. He and Nick managed to keep their friendship alight as many around them tried to blow it out and it was a love-hate relationship, where Nick scowling Ellis over almost everything still adored him and let Ellis know it.

He reached Nick’s study, rapping on the door with his fist. A response of papers being fluttered and a stomp to the door had sounded from inside the study before he was meet face to face with the senior who’s expression quickly changed from bitter to neutral.

“I thought you were that bothersome professor,” Nick said. “You know, the one that teaches math.”

Ellis laughed before throwing himself on Nick’s couch, pulling a blanket from the arm onto himself.

They sat in silence for a while as Nick quickly collected his papers and neatly piled them on his oak, polished desk. It had been decorated with a dark lamp, lined with golden thread on its shade, a few thick books, stationary all neatly organized into different jars and a few letters. He had picked one, previously opened, and revealed a neatly scriptured letter.

“So,” Nick began. “I’ve been thinking.”

Ellis turned on to his stomach, staring at the darkened teenager on a leather office chair.

“Where are you going for winter break, El?” He asked, leaning back on his chair and swinging his posh shoes onto the desk.

Ellis frowned, furrowing his honey eyebrows. “You know I ain’t going nowhere.”

“How would you like to come to my fathers?” Nick offered and Ellis’ face shone.

He nodded excitedly, speechless.

“Great,” Nick said. “I’ve been planning this for a while.”

He handed Ellis the letter whose emerald eyes began to scan the neat paper immediately.

“Go pack.”

Ellis looked up, clutching the letter still and bounced off the couch, scattering cushions and a beige blanket onto the floor. He sprinted out the door before Nick could tell him off. Running down the senior corridor, he wondered, excitedly, about Nick’s family. He barely missed some seniors who swore at his disruption but he ignored it.

Reaching his dorm room, he burst through the door before coming to a halt.

Smokey was on the floor hacking furiously, doubled over. He had one slender palm clutching his stomach and the other cupped over something on the ground.

“Smokey!” Ellis cried.

He rushed down to his level, gathering the tall junior as best he could. Both of Smokey’s hands went to his mouth which became full of a gunky, brown substance. It smelt rancid but Ellis held on, scavenging for something to wipe it on to. Finding only a jumper of someone’s he pulled it up to Smokey’s mouth. Looking him in the face had been scarring for Ellis, one eye had been puffed up and the other looked as though he would soon cry blood. His mouth could find no words, not even to yell help. He pulled the junior along, stepping over a box of small sticks. Looking down at it, he swiped it up in a paw-like action.

“Cigerettes?” He whispered to himself.

Smokey immediately grew ashamed but Ellis only put them in his pocket of his dirty shorts and hobbled along with Smokey by his side.

“Oh my goodness,” Someone muttered, immediately pushing underneath Smokey’s other arm and sharing the weight.

Chad had been standing at the front of the senior corridor when Ellis soldiered on with Smokey weighing him down.

“God lord, Ellis,” He began.

“Coach, you got to help,” He yelped.

Chad, immediately taking initiative, swept Smokey off the two boys and rushed him down to the sickroom. Running alongside him had been Ellis and a teenager. The boy, presumably a junior also, was small and nimble. He had pale skin yet dark, dangerous eyes and a wicked smile. He looked at him with his sharp eyes and Ellis almost flinched.

His voice was small and gravelly. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, I found him like that,” Ellis replied.

They stood in silence waiting for Coach to return from inside the sickroom. Ellis stood on tiptoes, peering in the window and seeing Joe become even sicker at the sight of Smokey and spewing an alike liquid to what was left on someone’s jumper in the dorm. He retreated to beside the junior.

“I’m Ellis, by the way,” He said, shining.

“I’m Hunter.”

Ellis immediately spun around to meet the boy’s face. “Your name is so cool!”

A quick grin from him had immediately had Ellis question if he really had been named Hunter, only because it suited him so well.

“Well, he’s getting sent to hospital,” Coach told them, appearing from the sickroom. “In time for the holidays, just his luck, huh?”

Hunter finally said goodbye and they all left. Ellis walked with Coach for a bit back through the senior corridor.

“Did they say what was wrong with him?” Ellis mumbled.

“He has a history of cancer supposedly,” Coach looked down at the junior. “But they don’t know why it would be acting up now.”

Ellis quickly replied, with a lie and a frown, “Maybe he was stressed about going home!”

Coach shook his head quick, “Whatever it is it’s bad.”

Ellis watched Coach join his large friends, all looking as if they were constantly flexing. Ellis suddenly took off towards Nick’s study.

Chapter Text

 When Ellis reached the lonely door of Nick's study, the rush of urgency to talk to Nick had begun to wither. He shook his curly locks about and took a deep breath, giving a couple light knocks. There was a disturbance inside and a small slam that sounded as if there were a lot of power in something so small. Ellis was greeted by red, glossy eyes that were filled with anger and were decorated with dark circles, and a frown so spiteful Ellis could taste the bitterness on his own tongue. Ellis went to speak and Nick turned away, leaving the door open. His dark hair was loose and scruffy and his head was hanging as he crept back over to his oak desk. A slender, pale hand flicked back to gesture Ellis shutting the door behind him.  

"Nick, I need to ask," Ellis began as he stepped into the low lighted study, pushing the door shut behind himself slowly as if he needed to be cautious of a quick escape.  

Nick slunk into his chair without looking at the junior. "Shut it," He hissed. 

Ellis paused, wondering if he meant the door or him. He shut the door and watched as Nick flicked a sharp finger pointing to the couch. The small, blonde boy hurried over to the dark, velvet couch and didn't take his soft, emerald gaze off Nick, with honey, messy eyebrows furrowed, worried. 

"Now," Nick's sour voice slithered out of his mouth as his hand pressed against his head. "Before you say anything about the holidays, it's off." 

Ellis, who had been sitting patiently and carefully listening, sat back into the couch, sinking into the pillows as his heart sunk in his chest. The thought of Smoker had completely left as the thought of spending the holidays at school, again, buried themselves into his brain, viciously, worming themselves in there like a mole. Nick pulled open a drawer of his desk, picked up a letter and slammed the drawer back shut, causing the burrowed junior to jump. 

Nick propped himself up, unfolding the letter quickly and aggressively, as his dark eyes peered over the paper at Ellis. In a voice so hateful, he read, "Dear Nicolas, I regret to inform you that you will not be able to come here for break. Your stepmother has become very ill and spending time with you will not even squeeze onto my busy schedule. Attached is money to perhaps find somewhere to spend the holidays or to occupy your time with paid attractions." Nick took a long pause, holding back tears that stung his eyes. "I know I agreed previously to your friend, Alice, joining us, but perhaps her parents will allow you to accommodate their home instead. Apologies," He took a sharp breath and almost whispered, "Your Father." 

A large clip of money had been attached to the letter but Nick snatched it off and launched it across the room, as if it were a baseball. It hit one of the polished bookshelves and a few books fell off with a thump and a cloud of dust. Ellis, quick to his feet, rushed over and gathered the books up in his short arms. Nick sighed as Ellis slotted them into the shelf. Numerous times his boots almost stood on the clip of money that he refused to acknowledge. 

Ellis was the first to break the silence as he faced away from Nick. At the first sound of his voice, Nick winced before hearing his words. "That’s okay Nick," His words dripped like honey from his plump lips. "Y'know ain't many people are here during break, it would be like we got the whole place to ourselves!" 

Upon hearing this, Nicks chest lightened and at the sight of the junior spinning around to reveal a cheesy, goofy grin, Nicks heart skipped a beat. Ellis shone and the atmosphere of the room spun the other way. In Nick's eyes, it had been as if the dark walls were painted yellow right before his eyes.  

"Stay here," Ellis demanded, his bubbly voice cutting through the atmosphere. Nick nodded and the junior stomped in heavy boots to the door. As he pulled it open, he paused and looked over his shoulder, peering under his navy hat. 

"If you knew a secret 'bout someone that you should really tell, wouldya?" His emerald eyes held so much concern Nick was taken aback. "Even if it got them in trouble?" 

"Kid," Nick began, slowly, cautiously as if he were about to set off a bomb. "What do you know?"

Chapter Text

Heavy boots tapped together, slowly, as they hung off the couch. Cap pushed down until honey curls covered shameful eyes, Ellis sat in a sour silence. Nick had his elbows on the desk, pushed forward, with his head tilted back slightly and his thin fingers pinched the bridge of his narrow nose. Through his pale, downturned lips, a sigh escaped. The crushed, worn pack of cigarettes sat on the desk. 

"I-I didn't mean to," Ellis began with a stutter. "I thought maybe he'd get a beltin'." 

Quickly, Nick's hand snatched down to the cigarettes and he raised them in the air, just barely crushing them.  

"This!" He shook the pack, furiously. "This is his life or death!" 

He slammed it back down, put his head in his palms and groaned. 

"I ain't known that though!" Ellis spoke up. 

Nick pulled his face back up. It was weary and sad. His grey, tired eyes held sorrow unknown to Ellis and his dark brows were furrowed together. His frown was soft and not it's usual spiteful comforting frown that the Junior knew so well.  

"We-we need to tell someone." His quiet, uneasy voice shook.  

He looked directly into the Juniors green, doe eyes. His voice was more direct to ensure Ellis heard. "We need to tell someone." 

"I don't wanna!" Ellis shouted, defiantly. He leapt to his feet with a loud bang of his boots coming in contact with the wooden floor. He rushed towards the door as Nick tried to call him back, like a toddler refusing bathtime, and Ellis' strong hand threw the door open. His frame disappeared in the light flooding into the room almost instantly and Nick felt a lump in his throat form. 

He swept his shaking hand through his dark, slicked back hair. The tall teenager slipped from his chair and in minimal uniform, he snatched his scarf from the hanger. 

Locking the door behind himself with one hand and wounding the scarf around his neck with the other, he took off on a mission. The sharp, icy winds barely raised his arm hairs or stung his cheeks as he swept through halls on the heel of his leather, dress shoes. Trying to think as his head spun, the only thing appearing in his busied mind was the soft, brown eyes of Rochelle. The clipping sound of the heels on Nick's shoes sped up as he followed the only path he knew led to Rochelle. 

With a swift bang, the door flew open to reveal a red faced, breathless teenage boy with eyes searching the room for the help he needed. Nick stood, with cautious stance, in the room where he had met Rochelle, earlier on in the year. A groan escaped from as lips as the room was empty until a soft hand met his shoulder and cut his groan short. He spun on his heel to come face to face with the glowing, delicate smile he needed to see. 

He towered over her but as she spoke he seemed so small in her light. 

"Is everything okay, Nick?" 

"I- I just- Ellis found," He stuttered, pathetically and Rochelle's head tilted, flicking her tied back hair behind her back. He took a breath, trying to organize himself. He tried again. "I need your help..." 

Rochelle nodded, slowly, while looking up at the weary, worried face. In a slow gesture, her small delicate hand rose up and lay out flat and Nick looked down at it cautiously before bringing his grey eyes to meet her chocolate, smiling eyes. 

"Let me hand them in anonymously," She almost whispered. "They'll never know Ellis or you were involved." 

With reluctant, shaking hands, Nick dove into his pocket and handed over the cigarettes. 

"What- what will you say?" Nick spluttered, heart racing and palms sweating.  

She held them so delicately in her hand that Nick felt guilty for giving her something as toxic as cigarettes, as if it would taint her fingertips just by touching the packaging. She tilted her head until she found the life in his eyes behind the busy thoughts and a gentle, reassuring smile spread across her face.  

"Found 'em."  

Unconvinced yet exhausted, Nick retreated finally, watching Rochelle swiftly strut along the isolated halls until she turned a corner and Nick's eyes found nothing to follow. 

Out of breath, his cheeks shone red and his eyes peered out from under his hat. His small, tough hands held onto the sink as he inspected himself in the mirror. Tears blurred half his vision as he took a breath in, trying to fight them off.  

"Ellis?" A low voice called from the entrance of the school bathroom.   

Quickly, Ellis pulled his arm up to his face and wiped across it. A hooded figured came into Ellis' line of vision in the mirror. The junior spun on his heel to greet the pale, inquisitive face under the hood. 

"Hey Hunter," Ellis murmured, relived but also disappointed it wasn't Nick. 

For a short while, there was an uncomfortable silence until Hunter begun to creep forward, gently and cautiously. His dark eyes didn't leave Ellis for a second as his smile curled, wickedly, at the corners. Ellis, feeling uneasy under Hunter's gaze, stuck a shaking hand out behind himself until it found the sink and grasped tightly onto it. The squeak of Hunters sneakers didn’t stop until he was close up to Ellis, his leg stepping between the juniors.  His sweaty palm on the ceramic surface begun to slip. 

"What's the matter, friend?" Hunter asked, his dark eyes full of life. His head tilted, almost mockingly. He leaned forward to the junior's ear and spoke in a sinister whisper. "What's got you looking so vulnerable, huh?" 

He stepped his other leg around Ellis so he towered over him and had him trapped against the sink. 

"This ain't funny, Hunter." Ellis muttered, trying to prevent his own emerald eyes from meeting Hunter's piercing gaze. 

Hunter begun to squeeze himself even closer to Ellis, pressing his body up against his.  

"Stop it, Hunter," Ellis raised his voice before pulling his arms forward and giving Hunter a shove. "Get off me!"  

Ellis begun to shove Hunter more, desperate for his freedom. Hunters face dropped to a threatening, chilling expression and Ellis felt the air becoming thinner. In an instance, Hunter's boney hands shot through Ellis' struggle and grasped his wrists, immobilizing the junior. He wrapped each finger around the tan boys skin, gripping it to the point of pain as a pink mark begun to bloom from under his restraint. Hunter controlled Ellis, like a puppet, with the force of his hands and pushed him hard against the sink, as Ellis squirmed trying to free himself desperately. Hunter pulled him forward and then pushed him against the sink again. Ellis made a yelp before his legs buckled and he fell to the ground.  

"Please!" His shaking voice yelled. 

"Shut up." Hunter hissed, continuing to hold Ellis' arms.  

"Help! Someone!" Ellis screamed. "Keith! Rochelle! Nick!"  

In a sharp motion, Hunter dropped down and released one of Ellis' arms to press hard over his mouth. Ellis begun to sob, muffled, behind his cold hand. Hunter's sharp nails slowly dug into Ellis' skin, piercing it. Ellis quickly stopped struggling and fell limp as tears welled up in his doe eyes. Hunter continued to let his nails sink in until a flow a blood dribbled out from the wounds. 

"No one can hear you," He whispered, manically.  

He used his elbow to push Ellis' to the hard, tiled floor and Ellis followed the movement, his head thumping hard on impact. His body weakened, limply following Hunter's gestures. He fell in and out of consciousness, letting the world of madness and unfairness spin around him. Hunter leaned forward to peer at Ellis, waiting for him to slip into a cold, unconscious state.  

"What the fuck?" A loud voice spoke.  

Ellis lit up and lifted his head, his eyes rolling, trying to focus. He let out a small cry of help. Hunter's weight from Ellis' chest to stand on his feet and approach the witness.  

"What the fuck..." Hunter muttered quietly to himself. 

The junior in pain, bleeding, tried to prop himself up to see who came to his rescue, though within a matter of seconds, Hunter was thrown back to the floor with such brute force, blood sprayed from him onto Ellis. Flinching from the mess Hunter became, Ellis begun to cry, traumatized in more ways than one. A large figure crouched down beside him, pushing one large arm beneath Ellis' upper body and the other under his legs. 

"Is he okay?" A little voice whispered from the doorway. 

"I don't want you to see this," The louder voice responded with a grunt, as he heaved Ellis upwards. 

Eyes rolling and fading in and out of the real world, Ellis' head fell backwards and caught a last glimpse of the bloody, twitching mess that was left of the hooded bandit.

Chapter Text

A burning sensation flickered inside his heavy chest. A lump held home to his throat as tears waited to be blinked away. The white ceiling felt as if it were dropping closer every time he took a breath. A light sigh pushed through the cold atmosphere.  

"Ellis?" A quiet voice whispered. 

Ellis stayed frozen in place on the nurse's room bed, decorated with a flowery duvet, he lay on top of, and matching pillow, his head was placed on, fixed on facing the ceiling of nothingness. The room felt as if it were continuing to close in around him, before the small voice spoke again and the walls rippled, being forced to open back up around Ellis.  

"I'm sorry that happened to you."  

Like a strike of lightning, his lungs fell short of breath and in pictures, it was relived in his head. Tears fell from the corners of his empty, emerald eyes and tumbled downwards his beaten face.  

"It’s alright, Jockey, you don't needa be sorry" Ellis croaked, his voice shaking and his lip trembling. "If it weren't for you and Charge, well..." His voice broke and he shut his eyes, forcing the ever-flowing stream of tears to pause.  

A scrape of chair legs on the fake tiled floor rung in the air and Jockey's small, sweating hand clasped Ellis'. Ellis squeezed his hand and the room fell silent again.  

The tense atmosphere lingered for a long while until there was a loud bang and heavy footsteps. Ellis jumped and Jockey sat straight up, not letting go of Ellis' hand.  

"I'm going to kill him!" A bitter voice shouted, as if he wanted the whole world to hold him to his word. Red faced and breathless, a tall, thin teenager barged into the nurse's room as his dark hair fell in his face, absent of any gel. His fiery eyes burned with the image of tearing apart Hunter until he found the blood-shot, teary eyes of the huddled, bruised blonde boy and the fire in his own eyes was put out with a wave of his own tears. In the blink of an eye, he had the junior trapped in a constricting embrace.  

"I'm so sorry," His raspy voice cried from Ellis' shaking shoulder. "I should've never let this happen to you."  

Ellis could feel the heat from Nick's hands as they pressed on his back. He could feel how bad he was shaking. He could feel his shirt dampening.  

In the corner of his eye, Jockey was by the doorframe and smiled, gently. The freckled, ginger boy took his leave and the room begun to close around Ellis again, except this time, it was closing around Nick too. 

"I want to go home." Ellis whimpered. "I want my ma." 

“I already knew that, kid.” 

Nick's arms wrapped around Ellis harder, though not even a minute later, there was a knock that forced Nick to pull away from Ellis finally, his grey eyes revealed to be bloodshot and glossy. 

A woman in a pink, paper-like dress hunched over in the doorway spoke lightly to Ellis as Nick fell into the background and let his mind wander every way he could harm Hunter.  

"I'm sorry, Ellis, we tried to call your mother and your grandmother, but there was no reply from either of them." The woman told him, she sounded as if every word felt like acid on her tongue. 

Ellis' heart sunk as low as it could and his whole body felt like in a moment he were to vanish into nothingness. She gave him a final look of sorrow from her own tired, upset eyes and returned to the reception.  

"Let's go."  

Rapidly, Nick pushed himself off the bed and nodded towards the exit. Ellis, defiantly and slowly, propped up his withering weight using his bruised elbow before Nick's hand pushed over Ellis' and a feeling of warmth bloomed from his fingertips under Nick's. The juniors watery, doe-like eyes met the senior’s weary gaze, holding it for a long second before Nick snatched himself back. He pulled back his shaking, pale hand and hid tearful eyes over his shoulder. 

“I said let’s go,” He muttered.  

Ellis begun to rush as he pulled off the old duvet, revealing his body, the canvas, with a painting that Hunter had created using a spectrum of reds, purples and blues, covering every inch of him. A pained groan fell from between Nick’s quivering lips. Honey curls shook furiously, and with a heavy heart, Ellis achingly stood in front of the tall teenager. A small, purpled hand reached out, ready for the grasp of slender fingers, to fit between his. In an instance, Nick clasped Ellis’ hand and spun on his heel. He begun to run, tugging on the junior, as if to run away from what just happened and leave it to stay in the little isolated sick room. As he threw the door open, the icy air stung his cheeks and howled past his ears, over powering the calls of the nurse. The taps of his shoes followed by the thumps of Ellis’ boots, not even tied, echoed through the halls. Swift turns after another, the junior spoke not a word, allowing the brisk wind to pull the tears from his eyes.  

Abruptly, they came to a stop in front of Nick’s study and Ellis fell into the back of Nick. Frozen, the tall teen mumbled. 

“You wanted to go home.” 

Ellis, finding no words within himself, strained to hear the quiet, slurred words. 

“I tried.” 

Nick swiftly spun to come face to face with the sniffling, blonde puppy. 

“I’ve done my best and I just-” His glistening, silver eyes fought back tears as he let himself get trapped in the emerald gaze. “I wanted to take you home.” 

His palm met the surface of his study door and his weight fell back onto it to push it open. 

Immediately from behind the pale teenager, it lit up. Ellis felt his feet step one in front of the other, drawn into the room, he was a moth drawn to the light. The whole study was flooded with warm light emitted from tiny bulbs, dangling from string, like a vine, each light a grape. A candle stood proudly on his great, dark oak desk, it’s flickering flame a ballerina, dancing, while the smell of vanilla clung to the air. A plaid duvet curled up on the couch and a tall teenage boy hovered amidst it all, expressionless. Overwhelmed, Ellis begun to cry. 

Fear fell through Nick and his whole body found a panic. 

“Please don’t cry, I’m sorry, I just thought-“ 

Warmth met his cold lips. It stayed a minute before the cold quickly interrupted. Ellis had kissed Nick. 

“This is, like, the nicest thing, ever done fur me!” Tears fell over his pink, flushed cheeks and a big grin spread across his beaten face. Nick struggled to find any words, and let himself be fixated by the sun radiating in front of him.  

Ellis threw himself down onto the couch and whipped the checkered duvet around himself until he looked like a red and white marshmallow with a head. Nick felt himself snap back to reality and in a sharp movement, he spun and lunged forward to his wardrobe. Hung up was the yellow pair of pajamas, cleaner than they were when first bought. His shaking hands pried the shirt from the hanger and slipped the bottoms from the bar of the hanger. 

“Please,” Nick revealed his poisonous face from behind the door of the wardrobe, “Get into these, you’ll be cleaner.”  

Ellis bounced to his feet, excitedly and gratefully accepted his beloved jammies from the towering senior, who begun to trail to his desk. 

Taking a seat in his throne, he pushed his palm over his tiring eyes. “Just get changed there, I won’t look.” And in an instance, Ellis had pulled his boots from each foot and thrown his raggedy sweater across the room. While changing, Nick caught a glimpse from between his fingers and only saw the purple that stained Ellis’ olive skin, prodominantly the deepest purple from the back of his ribs. A lump formed in his throat as he choked back tears. He didn’t look again until the smaller teenage boy bounced around, pleased and happily yellow. Collapsing onto the big duvet once again, his sweet voice ran through the vanilla air thanking Nick, though within a moment, the warm lights turned cold and the ballerina cowered, hiding within the glass walls of the candle and even the sweet vanilla tasted sour. 

“It’s all my fault.”  

Ellis spoke up quick to extinguish the idea but Nick slammed his brittle fist down onto the desk. The ballerina jumped.  

“It’s all my fucking fault! I should have followed you! I let the idea of responsibility come first! It should have been you who came first but I’m so fucking blind and it takes this for me to see!” His sharp tongue spat, his acid words tainting each speck of the air. 

“Nuh! That’s not true! You wanted to help Smoker!” Ellis’ gentle voice grew into a shout. 

“I should have been there! If I had followed!” Nick desperately cried, his own voice revealing his vulnerable state. 

“It don’t matter Nick! If Hunter weren’t there or if I hadn’t run into that bathroom or if I hadn’t been runnin’ in the first place! Or if I didn’t have someone to run from! Nick! There’s a whole lot of ‘ifs’ in the world and you’re not stopping it from happening with ifs!” Ellis’ rose with the couch, becoming the one to tower over Nick. His face glowed red and his eyes brimmed with hot, salty tears. “If Charge hadn’t been there…” 

Nick’s arm swung from his huddled position and forced a pile of books to tumble from his desk. He shot up in his seat, contesting Ellis. “If I had been there, I would’ve killed him.” Through his grey eyes, nothing could be found. 

“But you weren’t and there ain’t nothing we can do about it.” Ellis’ voice begun to quiver. “You’re here now though.” 

Ellis pushed himself back down into the couch once again and Nick swept across the room and lowered himself carefully next to the hurting junior. His thin yet strong arms braced the small blonde, who’s head fell into Nicks chest, beginning to cry, crying out every pain in his body and every bit of it he remembered. Nick rest his head on top of the blonde curls which tickled against his stubble. Soon the ballerina stopped dancing and the vanilla left through the crack beneath the door, and sleep fell upon the two.