One Shots (Feat. Shakespeare's Characters)

Tell me it's over

T/W: Bullying/Harassment, Assault, Homophobic Slurs.

*********************************
A/N: I do not in any way support bullying, homophobia, or suicide jokes!

Also, yes, this is the same "Test" one shot that I put in my MercutioxReader book.
*********************************

*Horatio's POV*

Today had gone smoothly. My hoodie had been hiding the ACE wrap well, and I was glad. If anyone at school had seen it, I'd be dead. Well, more dead than I already was. I had hoped that I wouldn't be cornered again. I had no such luck.

I had barely left the main hallway before I felt a yank on my hood, effectively stopping me in my tracks. A hand fell onto my shoulder, gripping it in a not so friendly way.

"Hey, Horatio, let's take a walk, shall we?" The voice said. I nodded minutely.

The person led me down a smaller hallway, and then stopped. The lights were dimmer here, and every noise echoed through the nearly empty space.

Even though I'd only felt one set of hands, I knew that there were more people there.

"You're going to stay here with us, and we're gonna have a nice talk, freak. You got that?" The person told me.

I nodded again, and the hand let go. I knew better than to start walking away. This interaction was far from over. I anticipated the shove before it came, but it still managed to surprise me. My hands came in contact with the dusty floor, and my wrist throbbed. It was barely healed from the last time.

"Hey faggot, why don't you get up," another voice said, lifting me up by my bag and throwing me down again.

These sorts of actions had become mundane. There was hardly a week that went by when I wasn't pulled into a side room and beaten up before class.

Better me than anyone else, I suppose.

"You're nothing to me, and to everyone else. You'll be forgotten before you're even done writing your suicide note. Your boyfriend probably wants you gone too," Another person said.

Hamlet had been my boyfriend for just a couple of weeks, and I'd never been in a relationship before. We hadn't even kissed yet. Why bring him up?

Someone tore my backpack off my back, and I heard a clunk down the hall. My shoulder was rammed into a wall, and it smarted.

"What's wrong, faggot? Cat got your tongue?" a new voice taunted.

"I wonder if you kiss like a fag too! Let's find out, shall we?" The first voice asked. A face loomed from the darkness. It was Laertes, Ophelia's brother.

The pieces started to line up, forming a picture that was so ugly I didn't want to look.

Before I knew it, he had me backed into a wall and his hands were on my shoulders, pinning me in place.

I did not want my first kiss to be like this. This was something horrifying and completely twisted. Sure, homophobia wasn't anything new in this group of people, but I never thought they'd stoop this low.

Before someone could stop me, I screamed.

"Help! Hamlet, Ophelia, anyone, please! Help me!" I begged. Laertes's hands squeezed my shoulders roughly. It was suffocating.

"Be quiet before I make you be quiet!" He hissed, forcing a knee between my legs.

I did not want this. Not from him, and not like this. My stomach began to churn.