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George sat in dread on the floor of the toilet, pants completely soaked through with his own piss. His arms were pinned between his back and the wall, the duct tape around him making it so that the only thing he could really move was his neck, and it still did him no good to get rid of his headache.
He’d been here since the second period, nearly two hours ago. An hour later is when he (involuntarily, thank you very much) lost control of his full bladder squished by the tape. And only an hour after that is when he even heard anybody in the toilet.
“Stop it! I’ll be right there!” came the voice of Ivan as the door to the toilet closed. George listened as his footsteps crossed the room and stopped in front of a urinal. The sound of piss splattering against the wall did a wonderful job of reminding him of the wet pants he’d had on for an hour at least.
He thought maybe he could ask Ivan to get Paul for him, because Paul never used the school toilets, and he was also the only one George trusted with this information.
He sighed as Ivan’s stream trickled off, shifting around in the duct tape holding him up against the wall. “Ivan?” he called, and the footsteps to the sink stopped.
“George, is that you?” He laughed. “Where the fuck have you been? We’ve been looking for you. Couldn’t find you anywhere.”
“You didn’t check hard enough,” he responded flatly. “Could you just tell Paul I’m in here, though? Tell him I need to talk to him.” Ivan laughed some more. “Please?”
“You’re so weird, kid. I’ll let him know.” George sighed again, quietly this time, shifting again in his puddle on the ground. Ivan left the toilet, and Paul came in a few minutes later.
He stood still for a second before muttering, “fucker.” He turned to leave but George called out to him.
“Wait! Paul!” Silence followed. “Could you help me with something?”
“Sure?” he responded hesitantly. “Are you okay?
“N-not really. Just… just… I’m in the last stall, and I can’t get up.”
Paul was already hurrying under the door, not even waiting to hear if George wanted him to. “Did you hurt yourself? Oh, god, love…” The younger boy didn’t say anything until Paul noticed that he was duct taped to the brick wall behind him. He tried to cross his legs to at least hide the stain on his pants, but it was hopeless. “What…? What happened?”
“Can you just figure out how to get this off of me?” Paul nodded.
“Y-yeah. Do you want me to get you something to wear, too? I think John still had his gym clothes--”
“No!” Paul blinked at him. “No, please. Don’t tell John.”
Paul started to pull at the duct tape. “Geo, he’s the only I know that might have something you can wear. I mean, we’re not in primary school. It’s not like they keep spare trousers in the office.” George huffed. “Sorry, but I don’t know what you want me to do. You can’t go out like this. You’ll get laughed at.”
A tear rolled down George’s cheek just as Paul had finished with about half of the tape. He wiped it away. “I didn’t know who else to tell. You’re the only one that won’t make fun of me for it. You’re the only one that won’t ask who did it, because you know I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You do, though. I can tell you do. You just don’t want anybody to think you’re just the baby brother for it.” George’s nostrils flared as he attempted his very best to keep his tears at bay. “Who was it, Geo?”
“You’ll be upset.” Paul shook his head, letting the tape fall from his hands. “You will. You practically worship him, think he can do no bad at all.”
“If somebody did this to you, I’m not giving him the benefit of the doubt.” George sighed, so Paul pushed on his shoulder. “Geo.”
“John.” Now uncomfortable, he tried to pull away from the rest of the tape. Paul looked unreadable. “Fuckin’ say something, would you.”
“Well, if the only person with available trousers is the one that made you wet yourself, then I’d say you’re screwed,” Paul joked, but George sobbed. “Geo, I was just kidding. I’ll get them for you. And I won’t tell him why. I promise.”
“God, fuck this.” He leaned up against the wall, tears spilling down over his cheeks. “I’m really sorry about all this, Paul. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, I know. I’ll be right back with something you can wear, okay?” George nodded, and Paul left the toilet, immediately running into Ivan, arms folded. “Where’s John?” he demanded angrily.
“God, you seem really angry.” Paul rolled his eyes, and Ivan just glanced down the hall, seeing John, hanging off of Cynthia, smelling her neck. “There he is.”
Paul marched down to him, and by the time he got there, the two were kissing. He pushed John away from Cynthia.
“Macca? What the--?”
“The fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouted, and Cynthia looked between the two.
“What… what did I do?”
“You think that’s funny? To just tape my friend up to the wall and not tell anyone where he was!” John’s eyes widened in absolute horror. “I mean, for fuck’s sake!”
“Oh, god… I forgot..”
“Fuck you!” He stole John’s bag right off of his back and started rummaging through it.
“Hey! What are you doing?!” But he trusted Paul enough not to make an attempt to take it back. He watched as Paul pulled out his gym trousers and threw it back at him. “What do you want those for?!”
Paul huffed through his nose and glared at John. “He had to piss, John,” he hissed. “And he was taped to a fucking wall.” Then his eyes drifted over to Cynthia, whose face had turned red. “Neither of you say a word about this.” His eyes focused back on John. “Or I’ll tape you to a wall and make you wet your trousers. You prick.”
He stormed away in anger back towards the toilet.