saturday // mystrade

Stressed out

(Hehe no that is not TØP what do you mean)

The two thought it best to arrive at school separately, but turns out, Gregs walk was much worse without Mycroft holding his hand. He sighed softly and practically dragged his feet there, hoping to slow down his way. He hadn't been to school in what felt like forever. Greg was expecting bullies, girls, and the normal shit, but he was hoping to god they would leave Mycroft alone. In what seemed like no time at all, the campus was in view. Baker street high (shut up, I know, not original) or, as Greg had affectionately name it 'Hell'. The gorgeous black Impala that Mycroft drove sat out front of the school. Normally, he would park his bike up next to it, but alas, his baby was still at his fathers house.

"God damn him to hell"
Greg muttered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The school halls were loud, crowded, and annoying. Girls screaming about their weekend was made Mycroft grit his teeth the most. People made jeering remarks about him, nothing unusual. He froze. Mycroft felt genuinely sick.
'Oh god, did you see Greg. Ugh, he's so hot. God, I would sell my soul for one night with him'
Mycroft forced his legs to work.
'He's yours....and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop people from hitting on him...'
However, on the other side of campus, Greg was about to throttle someone. Girls all day had been wolf whistling and trying to grab at him. He was so sick and tired of it. Greg had worn Mycrofts pride bracelet to school, and hoped someone would notice. Someone did, unfortunately, it was Carl Powers, the biggest jock idiot there ever was.
'I've been calling people idiots a lot...Myc is getting to me'
He almost laughed aloud. Almost. But, Carl made sure he didn't even smile the rest if the day. The normal, his usual knee to the stomach and arm in his spine.
'Dull'
Greg mused while being beaten senseless. He made the mistake of chuckling at himself.

"You think this is funny?!"
Carl roared.
"Let's make him laugh even more!"
He hit Greg in the side of the skull, not enough force to knock him out, bit enough to keep him stumbling to class.
Mycroft was in his first class. He slid into the back row, avoiding eye contact with anyone, so no one would notice the already forming bruise. But Mycroft noticed. Mycroft turned to look at him, and gasped. The people around him heard and he shook his head. He felt sick.
'Oh god...who dares touch him? I should've come with him...I should've protected him...."