I'd Pause My Game For You (Michael x Jeremy BMC)

Chapter 18: Back to School

TW: Bullying. Use of hateful words. Violence and blood.

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     We walked into school the next morning, holding each other's hand. Even though we stepped into an air-conditioned facility, I felt my hands become sweaty. It didn't seem to worry Jeremy however that I was a nervous wreck—mainly because he was one as well.

     Before we knew it, Jeremy and I were already getting odd looks at the people at their lockers. Conversations ended, heads turned, and what hurt me the most: the snickering and quiet comments that escaped our fellow peers' mouths.

     I looked up at Jer, who snaked his arm around my waist and picked up his pace to our lockers. I attempted to follow him at his pace, but I was stopped.

     I was ripped from my love's hand by my sweatshirt. I let out a shriek, and I saw Jeremy turn around and run towards me. Even so, the figure dragging me was moving too fast for such a tall, slender, unathletic boy. I tried to look up to see the culprit of a kidnapping. Sadly, they were moving too fast for me to notice any significant features.

     Attempting to not go into a full panic attack, I heard a creaky door swing open, and I was thrown into a tile wall. The figure brought me into the men's bathroom. As the room stopped becoming blurry and twisted, I looked at the figure.

     He was a tall male. Taller than me, but about the same height as Jeremy. Unlike Jeremy, his build was fairly muscular. He had short, dusty blonde hair and had green eyes; the sort of green you would see on Maleficent, vicious, but vibrant. I look further down to his torso. He had a white t-shirt underneath a crimson red, leather jacket. He was wearing jeans—but not the usual blue jeans. He has tattered and torn black jeans.

     Before anyone spoke, I saw someone with black, greasy hair, a similar black leather jacket, and blue jeans lock the door from the inside. I honestly had no idea where he came from. Suddenly, more boys, no older than me, come out of the stalls. I promise you, it looked like a scene out of West Side Story, The Outsiders—you name it, this was that movie.

     "So, you're the kid who's dating my sister's ex?" He chortled, making all the other guys laugh along. The boy glared at me, smirking. "My sister is a wreck... because of you fags?"

     I didn't know if I was going to throw up or pass out or both. I had forgotten about this kid. I made an attempt to stand up, holding onto a sink for support. Even so, I stumbled back to the ground, tears welling up in my eyes.

     Fag. I had despised that word from the first time I heard it. Any version of that word disgusted me.

     I looked to the ground, trying to act as tough as a wimpy kid like me could. I chuckled, "Y-yeah? So what-t-t? Who-o even is your sist-ter?"

     He sighed going to me and pinning me to the wall so I could look into his big, evil green eyes. "You seriously don't know me, Mell? Aw..." he pouted, "That hurts me right here." He pointed to his heart.

     Suddenly, he punched me in the stomach "But it's gonna hurt you right there." He threw me to the middle of the bathroom, allowing his "gang" (Or whatever the fuck they were) at me. They punched and kicked every part of my body. One guy got on top of me and started to tug my hair violently.

     After what seemed like hours of constant bruising and cutting of my body, the leader, or at least I assumed he was the leader, quietly demanded, "Times up, boys. Get off the fag."

     Repeated chuckles and laughter began to unlock and exit the, now spinning room. The figure that was once dragging me across the school, closed the door and locked it once more.

     He got on top of me, sighing again. "Michael, Michael, Michael. This is what happens when you ruin the happiness of the people around me."

     "I have no idea what the f-fuck you're talking about!" I whimpered cowardly. Then, he did something no one has ever attempted.

     He took off my headphones.

    Ripping them from their comfortable position around my neck, the boy unplugged them from my phone and stood up. He took out the cushiony part of it, then throwing them into a toilet. When he returned, he began to crunch them in his hands. I could feel my hot tears streak my face and go across new bruises on my face.

     I  wanted to get up. I wanted to use whatever strength I had left to stand up and push in his face. I wanted to kick him right between the legs and watch him suffer. But I couldn't. It wasn't smart.

     Instead, I witnessed one of my most prized possessions be torn to nothing but scraps of plastic and wire.

     When he was finished, he shook off whatever remains were in his hands and walked off. As he unlocked the door and the first bell rang, he stopped to whisper, "Oh, and if you tell anyone about this little... event. I'll make sure you won't survive the next time we meet."

                                                                                     ~^*^~

     Bruised and bloody and running out of strength to keep my eyes open. Breathing was a luxury at this point, as I continued to cry into my sleeves. I lay on my side, huddled into my jacket. I lay there, helpless on the floor for what seemed to be hours, even though it wasn't halfway into the first period when someone found me.

     They had the same dusty blonde hair the other boy, but with one red streak in his hair. He was also much shorter. He was wearing a muscle tee too. I—almost inaudibly—muttered, "R-Rich...?"

     He ran to me, kneeling down to me, saying something, but it was nothing I could hear. It was like a bomb went off in my head. I couldn't hear anything but the noise his voice was making. I felt like I was going to die; and, by that point, I accepted it. I believed he said something along the lines of, "Stay with me, I'm going to get help," before he bolted for the door.

     Everything went black after that.