Chapter Text
"Shh he's coming"
Too late.
George cowered past two freshmen girls who had their eyes glued on him. Despite their efforts, he could hear them gossip about him loud and clear.
He knew how pathetic is was to let two freshmen talk crap about him, but it was out of his control. What could he do? Ask them to stop? He'd be the laughing stock of the school, even more than he already was.
10 more months, then he would be free from his pain forever.
"Georgie, heads up."
George sighed, not even bothering to look up. He flinched as he felt something slimy hit his forehead, swiftly flicking the banana peal off his head. He dared to glance up to the crowd in front of him, greeted by an upsetting sight. 10 boys were pointing and laughing at him, led by the star quarterback of the school.
Dream.
His name isn't actually Dream, it's Clay. Everyone started calling him Dream after a huge save in a football game.
To George, he was more of a nightmare.
Dream wheezed after George kicked the banana peel off his shoe, gasping for air. George clicked his textbooks and walked as fast as he could to his locker. Dream and his friends' laughter could still be heard behind him.
George bit his tongue, trying not to cry. Crying would make everything worse, he couldn't let the waterfall escape his eyes. His eyes stung from the pain as his tongue started to bleed.
Great, now he was tearing up.
Once he arrived at his locker, he noticed the message sprawled across it, probably in permanent sharpie.
"Whore."
He groaned, he had just erased "slut" off his locker last week. His hands shook as he input his locker combination as he bit his tongue even harder.
He'd like to think that he was immune to the way everyone treated him already, but it still stung.
Physically and mentally.
He stuffed his textbooks in his empty locker, he couldn't keep any valuables or they'd get stolen. Shutting the locker door, he leaned against it defeated. One more block then he was done with the day.
His stomach roared, he hadn't ate yet today. He didn't have time for breakfast and his lunch money was stolen. He'll just have to make himself a sandwich once he got home.
"Georgie, nice locker."
He turned around to see Dream snickering at him, again. He was exhausted, he really had no energy to deal with his bullying anymore.
"Please, leave me alone." George whispered.
"Aw did Georgie say something?" Dream teased, getting a roar of laughter from his friends as a reaction.
"LEAVE ME ALONE!" George shouted.
Dream looked stunned for a moment, then his smug look returned. He waved his friends away, signalling that he'd be the one that'll deal with George.
"Where did you get that confidence from?" Dream snickered, nearing closer and closer to George.
George gulped, regretting his actions immediately. Now he'd be treated 10x worse, he should've just kept his mouth shut.
"It's adorable, honestly, the way you think you can talk to me like that."
George could basically feel Dream breathing down his neck at this point. He prepared himself for the punch that would probably hit his face.
"Don't ever do that again, or the consequences will be way worse." Dream whispered in his ear.
Here it comes.
George felt his entire body go limp as he felt Dream's fist hit his cheek. The burning sensation crept through his bodying, aching everywhere. He slid down his locker, crumbling into a pile on the floor.
Dream glared down at him, lazars in his eyes. George learnt his lesson, next time he'll let himself get beat up quietly like usual.
"Let's go, he's not worth anymore of our time." Dream walked away from George, leaving him bleeding on the floor.
He glanced up at him to see Dream wiping his hands on his shirt. George looked down at his hands and noticed that they were covered in blood, Dream probably broke his nose.
That'll be a pain to clean up later. George sunk into his little pile of blood, taking a moment to recover. 10 more months, then he'd leave all his misery behind.
It'd be a shame for him to give up now, he came this far, it'd be disappointing for him not to graduate highschool at least.
10 more months.
While on the floor, George could feel the stares of everyone passing by. Most were laughing at him, some were concerned (but couldn't feel bothered to help)
"Hey, are you ok-" A sophomore asked before his friend jabbed him in the ribs and dragged him away.
Of course, it was social suicide to associated with him. That's why he had no friends, at least his bullies kept him company right.
"It's him" A junior whispered to her friend.
"How pathetic" The friend replied before they both burst into laughter.
Yes, how pathetic of him indeed. He was a 17 year old, he should be laughing with his friends and having fun at school. Not sitting in his own blood on the floor at school.
He noticed how his whole shirt was red now, how was he supposed to explain that to his teachers?
"Don't worry teacher, I just fell off the stairs!"
Yeah right, and left a huge dent on the right side of my face in the exact shape of a fist.
The bell rang, and George picked himself up off the ground.