𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐲

035. in the dream.

"DON'T WORRY about it so much, Mike." Logan's own words play over and over in his head. It's been two weeks since Dustin's run-in with Troy and James, it's the 28th of March, Logan found himself leaning against the brick wall behind their school, coughing and wheezing.

He looked down and saw blood on his hands after coughing on it. He looked up at Troy and the boy throws a punch at Logan again, hitting him right on his left cheek. Hard. Logan fell to the ground and laid there, panting. He laid onto his back and then grunted when he felt kicks on either side of his body, both Troy and James were kicking him. It didn't make it any better than they were wearing boots like those hard toed ones worker men wear. Logan rolled over onto his stomach when he stopped. Troy lifted his head by his hair.

"This is what happens to new kids in Hawkins." The boy's bitter words went in one ear and out the other as he gritted his teeth, feeling the sting of a knife on his face. "Stop! Stop! Not my face!" He pleaded and begged but Troy kept going. He even cut a letter in Logan's arm but then someone had caught them, a teacher maybe but Logan laid down onto the ground and closed his eyes. He imagined himself being at home, laying on his soft bed.

Mike beside him. Mike. Mike. Logan looked up and saw a teacher from the middle school, he never learned his name. "Are you okay, young man?" He asked and Logan slowly sat up, looking down at his arm to see what Troy carved into it. F. What was it suppose to be for? Freak. Fucker. Faggot. Fuckface. Fairy. He supposed he was all of those as he looked back up at the man, Mr. Clarke.

But he didn't know that so he just whimpered out, "I'm not." Mr. Clarke helped him up, one hand gentle on Logan's arm and once Logan was up on his two feet, Mr. Clarke sighed. "Ms. Kim should still be here even after hours, come with me," he said and Logan is lead inside the high school and all the way down the hall to the offices.

"Ms. Kim? Ms. Kim, are you still here?" The man knocked on the door and a woman opened the door, she looked about thirty and one look at Logan, she pulled him in and Mr. Clarke followed. "What happened to you?" She asked right away and gestured him to sit on the bed. It had those paper things across it, like they always do.

"Bullies. Assholes." He said and she scolded him for swearing but stood in front of him anyway, lifting his head and wiping his wound clean, first cleaning it with soap and water then disinfecting it. She looked at Mr. Clarke. "Did you see who the bullies were?" She asked and the man sighs.

"Troy Hardy and James Pearson." He said and even just hearing their names made Logan's blood boil. Mike was right. Acting out in anger never works. It's better to ignore them. But what good does that do either? If they'll keep coming back? "I'll let the principal know." She said and Logan looked at her, "they'll think I'm a fucking snitch." He spewed the cuss word at her for the stinging he felt on each wound that she was cleaning.

"Mr. Simmons, Scott told me, not you." She says and Logan relaxed for a moment but stood his ground as she bandaged him up. "Do you want a gold star for your tolerance of pain?" She said and put a gold star on his jacket, over his chest pocket. "I'm not a baby, I don't need a gold star." He says.

"Then I can take it back—" "No, I earned this fair and square." He covered the sticker before she could even take it. She sighs, "okay..." She shrugged and looked at the clock. "You should get going. It's after hours now." She told him and he just jumped off the bed, glancing between the two workers. "Thank you..." He said and walked past them both, over to the door to leave the room.

On his walk home, Logan felt like every part of his body ached and when he got home, he found himself looking through the fridge, the cupboards and even his mom's beside drawer. And when he found them, he went into the washroom and took a bath, he looked in the mirror and saw the bruises forming. He stared at them, wondering how he could just let them beat him up like that.

He looked at himself in the eye, "coward." He muttered and got into the bath, closing his eyes at the sensation of the cold water. He never bathes in cold water but the bruises all collecting on his skin would thank him for it. He took a cigarette, putting it between his teeth and light up a match, bringing it to the end of his unlit cigarette.

He paused and took a moment but it passed quick when he realized the match could burn him. He set it under the water then threw it to the side. He stared at the wall as he inhaled the smoke, and exhaled it. He closed his eyes and for a moment he had forgotten he was in the bath.

He stayed in for another twenty to twenty-five minutes, washing his hair and his body. When he was done, he got out of the bath and dried himself with a towel, draining the water. He looked down at his arm. He still wondered what Troy was trying to write on his arm. He got dressed in his bedroom, wearing baggy sweatpants and a baggy shirt before laying onto his bed, eyes closing.

He wanted to stay up, he really did but then he fell asleep. At least it's Friday. He won't have deal with those fucking assholes. Yeah. Assholes. Logan looked around, he was there again. Behind the school. Someone punched him, knocking him off his feet again and he laid there for a while, looking at the sky when Mike came into view.

"Mike." He whispered but Mike looked different, he looked... weird. "I told you to stay away from the party." He said and Logan looked to the other side of him to see Dustin lift his leg and step down onto Logan's face, it felt real. The sting of his nose and he reached up but found no blood.

He looked down when he felt something on his arm, Lucas was holding his wrist down and Max was carving his arm. "Max," he cried out and she giggled. "Max." She mocked him with an exaggerated expression. Mike, Lucas and Dustin cackled, not laugh like they usually do, cackles, the creepiest ones Logan ever heard.

"There. Finished it for him." Max said and Lucas let go of Logan's wrist, laughing as Logan quickly raised his arms to his face. FAGGOT was written across his skin and then kicks to the sides of his body again, kicking and kicking as they all surrounded him, cackling loudly.

Logan jolted awake, he's sweating as he panted. He looked to his arm right away to rip the bandage off
to find the wound was healing, but it didn't say... how it said in the dream. He put the bandage back on his arm and looked to the clock. 9:00 AM. Maybe he should go for a bike ride or something. Anything to take his mind off of his dream.

  

  

  

  

   

    

   

     

authors note dang flabbit

+ decided to update this to clear it all up: i was kidding and this will be ending at fifty chapters BUT if i do feel unsatisfied by chapter fifty, MAYBE i will continue it... just maybe