When There's No One Else But You and Me (𝖹𝖠𝖱𝖱𝖸)

Chapter IV

Chap. IV: "Welcome to Hell. Loser" Pt.II

❗⚠WARNING! ATTEMPTED RAPE⚠❗

The ride to his school was anything but easy.

There were eyes. As well as bumps in the road that jumbled him closer to the window, making him mistakenly bite his tongue and upper lip. Most pointed. Blatantly. Finger curled into the palm of their hands as they chucked a finger over at the new kid and whispered things to the person they sat next to. And he couldn't do anything about it. Nothing. So he just let the milk seep even deeper into his clothes and into his skin―his pores―his frail bones.

"Does he even talk?"

"What the hell is a guy like that doing here?"

"Why isn't he doing anything?"

"He looks like he's on coke. Do you think he is?"

"Heard people of his kind kill people like us."

"Where do you think he keeps his weapons?"

"I think he has firearm on him. I'd better stay away. And I advise you do too."

The bus hissed to a halt. Zain looked up from the floor, catching a glimpse of two people getting on the bus. Not knowing who, he peeked his head from around the seat ahead of him and glanced down the aisle. He stopped dead. Eyes wide and breathing basically nonexistent; he slid back to where he had been sitting―near the window and clutched onto his stomach. He felt like how he did back then. In those stupid dreams. When he'd wake up and he feels his heart palpating against his ribs and felt on the verge of dying. Hell, Zain didn't even know what dying felt like but the feeling that he was carrying in the very pit of his stomach seemed like it could be close enough. It just had to be. With his eyes dilated and blood rushing like a wave past his ears and that unwavering thought that no matter what: his breathing won't ever go back to normal.

He was dreaming. He had to be. It was the only well fit explanation as to why he was here too.

So, with a few deep breath techniques that he had taught himself he peeks around the seat and stares down the aisle. And lo and behold there he is, getting himself situated in a seat on the same side as Zain. There was a girl with him too―the blond one that he so faithfully despises―she has her hand clasped around his wrist, tugging him down playfully into the seat.

He's smiling.

Then he turns to Zain slowly, almost knowingly―almost mimicking how he did on the day he moved in―and that ever loving, goofy, thin lipped smile is ripped away and is replaced with an deep frown. Creasing the bottom of his mouth and the pinch of his eyebrows before being fully yanked down with the girl.

Harry doesn't turn around nor does he take another glance at him from behind, which Zain is thankful for.

But Zain does manage to bite his upper lip again before the bus hits another stop to indicate that another kid is getting on the bus again.

☮

He was the last person on the bus. Or so he thought, because there had been someone―some boy with a cross necklace sticking to his chest―outstretching their leg, which, coincidentally, made Zain plunge flat on the floor. There were grimy crumbs and wet shoe prints and gum rubbing against his cheek, and really, Zain has never felt anymore disgusted with himself than he did right now.

"Don't fall for me, you f@g." The boy with the cross necklace said, stepping over him and looked down, where he laid with such a revolted face it caused a pang in Zain's heart. Like a fucking bullet sped through and pierced it. "You deserve everything that's coming to you once you go through these school doors." The guy had been lent down to his height, but Zain didn't want to look at him. He'd cry if he did. "You know just as well as anyone that you don't belong here."