Reality Check (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 17: #14

Chapter 17

# 14

>>Carter

Bursting into the boy's locker room breathing very heavily, I did a quick scan and made the rash decision that there was no one else around. Good.

I made my way towards the ten foot tall mirrors placed in front of the toilet lockers and observed my anger stricken face. My fist slammed upon the tiles of the sink, allowing a vibration of pain run its way through my arm. My breathing was taking a dangerous rhythm, and I wasn't too sure if I could control myself much longer at this pace of anger.

I wanted to scream.

Maybelle mentioning her to me like she had any freaking right... I haven't heard her name in forever... now I'm close to having a fucking panic attack like the scared fourteen year old I was in freshman year.

 Pathetic.

 I'm not like this. Not anymore, and I don't know why I was doing this to myself again.

I tried to hold my breath. Pinch myself on the forearm to distract myself, but nothing was working the way it used to. I got so irritated and just threw my glasses at the most random corner of the locker room not caring if it dropped into a toilet or broke into shards; I had spares at home anyways.

I didn't have to look in the mirror to know that my face was scarlet red, and hazel eyes were furious and hurt.

That's when the unexpected occurred.

Suddenly, a rough pair of unfamiliar arms wrapped themselves around my waist, and took hold of my arms. My panicking mode rose at the sudden contact.

"Let me go!" I yelled trashing around instantly. I thought I was alone in here since everyone returned to class... but apparently not. Wait. Was this even a student?!

Oh god I'm getting kidnapped.

"Let me the fuck go!" I screamed as my voice echoed within the stalls of the shower.

"Breathe." a soft octave voice demanded before wrapping a piece of soft fabric around my nose and mouth, making me instantly stop my failing attempt to fight. But it wasn't the fact that I was scared... it's the opposite actually. The cloth around my nose smelt of honey.

It smelt like home.

I gladly took a long inhale of it, and instead of punching the bastard behind me with my now freed hands; I took hold what felt like a shirt tighter in my palms. The furious beating in my chest became softer as did my breathing in the comfort of the scent as my knees became weak in exhaustion. I slid down to the floor and practically smothered the shirt in my face just trying to calm myself down with the comfort I haven't gotten since I was loved.