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I start heading in the direction of his room, moving in a jog at first. I keep repeating to myself: he won't do that. Every repetition makes me doubt my words more. I break into a run a few steps in, I can't stop my hands from moving, or these tears from filling my eyes. I keep bumping into things, as only the warning lights are on. The school is reduced to red silhouettes of halls and passages I know so well. If I am caught out of my room at this time of night, I will be given at least detention. I reach his room in record time, and no one sees me slinking through the halls. I knock on his door like the maniac he has reduced me to. BANG! BANG! BANG! “Dude!” I turn around to find Peter, another classmate of mine from the next room, in pyjamas, eyes red and angry, “What the fuck? Some of us are trying to sleep.” My body is vibrating too hard for me to speak. Timothy's door opens, and he pulls me in and bangs it closed so hard I almost land on my ass when he lets me go. The flo
A smile forces its way up my face. “I’m… wow—that’s amazing. Isn’t it in Germany?” Her brows crease. “Yes.” She hesitates, looking at my hands where they hang at my sides. “I‘ll learn the language as I go.” “So when do you leave?” I ask. I hope my voice doesn’t sound how I feel.She shrugs one shoulder, her eyes smiling, “Immediately after the mid-semester exams. I’ll start classes in two days. Their year runs on a different calendar.” “Okay.” I step back and squeeze her shoulder, “I need a quick shower, but let’s have dinner at the library together? Celebratory.” She nods, dreamy, skipping off soon after. My brain keeps replaying the same words: Midterms are in two weeks. She hasn’t gotten too far, but I still shout, “Wait, how will you get your certificate if you don’t write the final exams?”She laughs, "Don't worry about that.” She turns away again and I watch her. When she's out of sight, I head to my dorm. Rain starts drizzling. Why am I this sad if I tell myself I am no
TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND BULLYING CONTAINED IN THIS CHAPTER.I don’t know who’s shouting. “What the—”Timothy stumbles, hitting a chair beside him before he lands finally on the floor. I don’t feel in control of my body. My fist move—one, two punches. Then Jo yanks me away, and everything blurs. Am I crying? Timothy’s coughs, his mouth a red stain. His smile is still in place; smaller, sharper. My vision tunnels to black. ~ I’m dreaming. Timothy in a towel, his fingers trace my shirt. He unbuttons them, one by one. His eyes are soft here, his smile easy. I cannot tell where he ends and where I begin.My body starts to move, desire drawing me closer and closer t this soft version of him. I hold his face with one hand. What has possessed me? Jasmine comes in. I can't tell where she’s come from. Somehow, she is behind me, her hands caressing my back, traci-"I need you to be awake, Liam," Timothy says. Jasmine rubs my shoulder. So softly. Then harder. So hard
TRIGGER WARNINGS: DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND BULLYING CONTAINED IN THIS CHAPTER. I open my mouth, but no words come out. An invisible hand pulls where my chest should be. I close my mouth, blink, and try again. “Did we… um—”He doesn’t let me finish. “No, we didn’t do anything,” his smile turns almost bashful. He moves his face closer to mine, like he’s about to say something, and I take a breath, moving back instinctively. “Chill,” he says as he lays a hand on my shoulder. He looks behind him, and I turn too. Jo on the bed opposite us, focused on his phone. I relax immediately—he won’t do anything with Jo here. “What?” My head falls back on the pillow, and he rises to face me, his eyes softening. “I won’t send those pictures to anyone. It would hurt me too.” I don’t believe him. He reads the doubt in my eyes and grimaces. I decide to change the subject. I don’t want to be here, with him this close, looking at me like everything is good between us. The light from the ceiling is
I don’t find Timothy immediately. The first person I see when I leave the room is Alexander, sitting on a stool outside the common area as he sips from a cup in his hands. “Hey,” I say, as I crouch before him. His eyes are bloodshot, unsteady. Slurring, he says, “Hey, pretty b–boy.” And I blush despite myself. His fingers graze my face, and I forget my original mission of finding Timothy. I take Alexander’s hand in mine, trying to hold it away from my face. He tips the bottle in his hand into my mouth. Cold liquid flashes down my throat; a second later my stomach roils and my vision blurs. “What are you doing here, all alone? The party is inside.” My voice comes out deeper than I intended, I almost don’t recognize it. He doesn’t respond for a second, staring at me. Then he goes, “Has anyone ever told you you have the most beautiful eyes?” His pointer rises to meet my face, drunken, almost childish, awe staining his expression. I take a step away from him as I stand. The floor t
Timothy’s replied: Whatever. We need to talk tonight. I look at my screen, my hands curling around my phone, pressing it until I can feel it vibrate in my palm. I look out the window, my chest deflating. A voice in my head batters me, reminding me how stupid I was to trust him. I’m so tired, and my eyes close. I try to sleep, shifting restlessly between the leather seats until we reach Aton. The dorms are decorated. Garlands hanging from the door frames, the windows glowing green, purple or blue—the different House colours. Two students hand out flyers at each House door about Saving the Dolphins or something. Each House has its own party going on and there’s always a competition between students to see who can attend the most parties without any teacher finding out. Last semester I won it alongside Timothy, and I remember how his hands entwined in mine every time we met in a different dorm party, electricity flying between our fingers, and no one else the wiser. It happened th







