Look away (BxB) [COMPLETE]

Thirty-seven: Pinscher

Jersey number eleven, Begum, draped over the slender shoulders of Louis Carter. Several girls in the school were walking around in football jerseys with their boyfriends' names and numbers on them. Louis was the only guy it seemed. He'd worn a hoodie with Bran's name and number before but wearing his jersey was different. It felt more real. Since the bruise around his neck hadn't gone away yet, he wore a scarf. Although it looked a bit strange, Bran had ordered him to wear the scarf and Louis couldn't say no to Bran.

Bran wasn't around. Louis was wandering alone in the halls. People didn't hide the fact that they were staring. There were whispers, snickers, glares, eye rolls and looks of disgust.

Why did they hate him so much? What was it that drive everyone to torture him like they did. Most of them not with words or physically, but mentally. Louis knew that they all wanted him to bleed. If they could they would've probably killed him just for the rush of it. Some dogs are like that. Not by nature, but because they have been trained to. Living beings fear what is different. It is embedded in their DNA, glued filters inside their minds that can never come off. They sniff out what they find strange and isolate it to the best of their abilities. No one can escape it. Not even humans. Since the dawn of time, people have avoided what was different. Avoided brightly coloured berries in fear of poison, avoided flames in fear of getting burnt, avoided rethinking in fear of losing their old ways, avoided people who rebelled in fear of being rejected by the conservative society they lived in. Even in modern times, people fear change. And Louis, Louis was as different as they got. Even in the diverse modern society, Louis Carter stood out like a dash of black paint on a white canvas. Filth on a perfect surface.

Brannon Begum, of course, stood out too. But he stood out in a way that people were attracted to. He stood out in a majestic way, the moon in the dark sky. Different from everyone else yet so natural and fitting.

Louis concentrated on the music in his headphones. The playful music box sound that played behind the clean guitar. The drums that filled in an empty spot before the chorus. The meaningless yet deep lyrics. Louis actually quite enjoyed the song. It was a song Bran had played in the car once and since Bran liked it, Louis had liked it too. The speaking part of the song came and Louis listened with interest as the strange voice spoke meaningful nonsense.

"Carter," The teacher said sternly. Louis looked up, startled. "Please remove your earbuds..."

With an embarrassed nod, Louis pulled the headphones out and put them in his pocket. He hadn't been paying attention to where he was or when he'd made it to his classroom. His classmates were glaring, just as they always did. With all those rumours drilled into their heads, Louis couldn't blame them. They saw him as an insect. But then again, Louis always wished to be an insect. Perhaps A butterfly or a mayfly. But that's not what they saw. They just saw him as filth. A silverfish like the ones in the bathroom at home. The unwanted guest. The filth that keeps coming back no matter how many times you stomp it. They'd always see him like that, always see him as the lesser being. You can't teach an old dog to sit, after all.

...
Oscar watched his former friends laugh together. They playfully shoved each other around, told jokes and spoke of whatever was on their minds. It envied Oscar that he wasn't part of it. It envied him that they didn't mind his absence. They never cared. He was just another flower in the field to them, wasn't he? Even if he went away there would be others to replace him.

He pinched his hand, piercing the skin with his short nails as he stared at the bunch of people who once seemed to care for him. It stung, he deserved the pain. This was what he did to Louis all those years ago, wasn't it? Oscar punched harder, twisted the skin until it felt like the skin would stretch and tear. Needles, it felt like hot needles. The pain kept him grounded. Kenny and the others could do whatever they wanted, Oscar didn't need them, not over his dead body.