Social Suicide (BxB) / On Hold

Chapter 6

Previously:

Alex decided that he might as well go and wait in front of his next classroom, at least then he wouldn't be late. Just as he turned to leave, however, he collided with something. Something tall, firm and... warm?

He looked up. It was Ashton.

*   *   *

"Something tells me you're stalking me." 

Ashton spoke first, jumping back as if scalded. His breath was short, as if he'd been just been running. Sporting a counterfeit smile, Alex hoped that the awkwardness that bathed the moment would be transient. 

"I - I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." Alex swallowed thickly. Why were they constantly running into each other? Was this some practical joke? 

It was then he noticed Ashton's expression. He had a somewhat glazed and frantic look in his normally unreadable eyes and seemed to be deep in thought. He looked behind his shoulder into the hallway, and then back at Alex. Alex couldn't help but notice the clenching of his jaw muscles and the slight twitching of his hand. Ashton stepped forward, and for a moment Alex almost imagined a slight hesitation in his movements. Was he coming closer?

Suddenly, Alex felt himself being pushed back into the bathroom and into the nearest stall. Ashton was right behind him, and together they almost topped over. 

"What the fu-" Alex felt a hand come over his face, blocking his words. Ashton was going to shove him in the toilet, he could tell. How cliche. But when he looked up, he noticed that Ashton didn't look mad; he looked worried. He watched, transfixed and slightly terrified as Ashton held up his hand, visually signaling for Alex to be quiet. That's when they heard it. The loud, authoritative clicking of heels down the hall. There was a teacher outside; Ashton must've been running from her. 

They waited for what felt like an eternity before the footsteps disappeared. Alex couldn't help but notice the lack of proximity between the two. He could basically feel the outline of Ashton's body against his own.

"Um... this is cozy." Alex whisper-yelled.

Alex's realization of what he just said caused his next words to stick in his throat. He looked up and Ashton was staring at him in bewilderment. Feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, Alex turned away, praying the other didn't notice. 

"Sorry. It was either this or be caught out of class by that teacher." Ashton pulled himself away violently and stood outside the cubicle before continuing. "She has a personal vendetta against me, and probably would've kept me in detention for the next year if I'd been caught."  

Something about Ashton today was different. He was more vulnerable, cautious. Alex opened if mouth, as if to speak, but decided against it. He could have walked away had it not been for the smirk. That little rise in the corner of Ashton's mouth.

"Since when did you care about getting in trouble?"

Suddenly Ashton was in front of him, and Alex was forced to witness the full effect of his eyes. Why did he have to open his big mouth?

"What'd you say to me?"

Ashton squinted at him through hardened eyes. Every muscle in his face was tense and without a word, he communicated intense mistrust. Now he stood between Alex and the only exit, glaring, seething, clenching his fists rhythmically. Talking to Ashton was like walking on eggshells! One moment he was at ease, the next, he looked like he wanted to murder someone.

"Oh, nothing! I just wondered why you cared if you went to detention or not, you know? I always see you there anyway." Alex thought back on the many times that he had walked past the detention room. Ashton was almost always there, sitting in the back left-hand corner. 

"You think I want to be there? You think I want to disappoint my family like that constantly?" Something in his eyes changed, and again his expression was unreadable. "Whatever. You don't know what you're talking about anyway."

He sent one last glare before quickly retreating, leaving Alex alone with his thoughts.

*   *   *

The rest of the day continued smoothly for seemingly everyone. Everyone except Alex. By the time it hit 2:00 pm, Alex had already received detention for missing his morning class, he'd got water all over his new textbooks and somehow got into a fight with his friend Chris over nothing. The final period, ironically, was PE, and Alex had been to enough lessons to know how amazingly that would go. Not.

He walked into the locker rooms bitterly. The revolting, sour smell of deodorant and sweat instantly hit Alex in the face, and the hot air stuck to him like feathers to glue. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, Alex eyed his clothes which he'd already put on the bench. Much to his annoyance, however, he found that he'd somehow laid them in a large puddle of muddy water. Lurching forward, Alex collected the items and hoped to God that they could still be worn. The last thing he wanted was to wear sweaty, filthy clothes for the rest of the day. 

He examined the clothes reluctantly, but the last trace of hope he had was dashed when he saw that they were basically saturated. That was the breaking point of his patience. At that moment, Alex was blinded by rage that tasted bitter, yet surprisingly satisfying. He reached out, and his arm connected loudly with his locker. He had never punched anyone or anything before, so Alex was incredibly surprised at the pain that blazed up his arm as his fist connected with the metal. Crap, that hurt. 

'This is all Ashton's fault,' Alex thought. 'I wasn't even in a mad mood until I saw him this morning.

Alex sighed. He needed to stop getting so worked up over that guy.