Bully || Septiplier

Chapter Two

JACK woke up at eight-thirty. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw a beam of light peeking from his bedroom window, and for a moment he forgot about everything. Where was he? He kind of shifted in the bed, but this was a bad idea, due to the fact that literally everything hurt. His head hurt, his face hurt, and he didn't remember why. Trying to think about it hurt.

"Hey," his head shifted to confront the voice with the Swedish accent. His eye, that he realized was now slightly swollen, caught sight of a blonde boy with blue eyes - Felix! But why was he in Jack's house?

"Why are you here," Jack tried to speak but his voice sounded more like a choked whisper. That was odd. Felix eyed him strangely.

"You don't remember?" When Jack shook his head, Felix continued, "Well. You got drunk at a party, and Mark found you and got to you. I found him holding you up against the fence, but when I tried to stop him he'd already gotten a few punches in you, and when he finally shoved off I stopped most of the bleeding and brought you here. Your mom was asleep so dont worry, she hasn't seen you."

And then faintly, the memory of the outline of Mark, holding him up against the fence. Jack said nothing but let the memory consume him, and then he figured that voice must have belonged to Felix, the voice that interrupted whatever Mark was doing. It was stupid of Jack to rebel against Mark anyways - he'd always win, Jack would ways lose. He was just drunk, and when your drunk your feelings change. Stupid, naive, intoxicated Jack.

"What time is it?" The Irishman glanced around, raising a fist to rub his eye that was, judging by the numbness and faint pain to the touch, probably bruised and black. In fact, he was sure that was half of his face, bruised, especially a particularly aching cheek bone.

"Schools almost started, but I wanted to check on you," replied the blonde. Jack frowned, but when he was about to say something, Felix only laughed knowingly. "Please don't give me a lecture about how I should be at school right now."

"Fine," muttered Jack. Was it just his imagination, or was his voice slightly off? "But I don't want my mom seeing me like this, so if you're going to school you're taking me."

"Okay, but I suggest you hurry up and get ready. It's almost eight-thirty."

"What?!"

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The hallways were strangely quiet. Well, Jack was late by ten minutes, he reflected while holding the late slip in his left hand - again he reached up to brush his hand against his face. He flinched at the slight pain of pressing on a bruise, and continued to walk, but now slower. He neither smiled nor frowned at the thought of how, only minutes before, Jack and Felix were at his house, fiddling with his mothers makeup to cover the worst of the bruises. They couldn't find coverup, so they used a peachy colour of eyeshadow that somewhat worked. Well, the best it could on Jack's milky colour of skin, he reflected.

Felix and him had parted ways only moments before, wishing each other luck on being late to class; but Jack needed the most luck on pulling off hiding his face, which was undeniably the most noticeable part of his body. If any teachers or even a handful of students saw the damage done to his face, even the very obvious quick attempts of two boys in a bathroom using makeup to cover it, child care would be called with the blink of an eye.

Would child care even be called, though? Jack was eighteen. If this made him an adult, then perhaps if anybody saw his face, they'd simply call the police. He uncomfortably wrapped his arm around his stomach - that would be a bad situation. Fear washed over him for a moment. But nothing compared to the recognition, memory and then terror that struck him when he realized just what class he was heading to.