ANON. || l.s.

Scribbles

For the next few days my body was tingling and my mind distracted. Not only had I experienced a beautiful guy breathing hotly against my neck, but I also felt a weird connection with the precinct guy. Not just a hot connection because he was beautiful, but something else. Like he read me with just looking into my eyes, understood me with only a slight touch against my skin. My mind was torn.

I had avoided Zayn at school, something that was pretty easy - given the fact we only had classes together on Mondays and Fridays - but today I would see him again. Every time I saw him walking the hallways at school I just hid behind a crowd or snuck into a classroom. Avoiding him had a downside though, I hadn't talked to anyone at school for a few days. Sometimes I caught glimpses of Liam but he always seemed to be avoiding any type of contact I tried to make. I felt so fucking lonely... I'd heard people whisper about me, about my black eye, which was already turning a blue-ish green. "The gay kid got beaten up for blowing someone in an alleyway" or "He'd participated in the riots tonight". The way rumors traveled at this school was honestly alarming.  

Today was the day we would get a house visit, again from the precinct. Would it be the same guy again? God, I hope so. On the other hand, maybe it wasn't such a great thing if he would. My father was already on edge after the phone call he'd gotten from school. 

He had ignored me, per usual, and he hadn't been home a lot. He even went MIA again last Wednesday, and only showed up again the next morning. He'd probably wanted to distract himself from me, but in every movement he made I saw that he was trying his best to keep his anger hidden. He had slammed the doors too loud, his voice sounded agitated during all his work calls and now and then he gave me a look. The look I could now identify as the silence before the storm. He hadn't touched me though. In all honesty, thus far the Tagging had been a blessing - besides the fact that I had lost Liam. Because even Father wasn't stupid enough to worsen the bruises I had when there were people coming to check upon him. 

Tomorrow he'd get his first course for parents who had Tagged kids. I was secretly hoping he would actually learn something and I just tried to be as careful as I possibly could. I had cooked his favorite meal - mac and cheese with hotdog slices - and I made sure there was no clutter anywhere he could get mad about. 

In between all the stressing I got deja vu's of green eyes, hot breathes, touches, and tattooed hands, corrupting my mind. I would be lying if I said I hadn't already had a few wanks in, fueled by the imagery of a green-eyed, tattoed man, mixed with the feeling Zayn gave me while pushing me against that lamppost. But no one had to know right? 

When I entered the class I had together with Zayn, he was already meeting my eyes with a sly grin on his face. He motioned to the seat next to him and hesitantly I took the seat. I didn't know how to talk to the guy I almost shared an almost kiss with. After all, the last fling I had ended in disaster. 
   'Hey pretty...' He whispered and he briefly touched my knee, immediately sending a shiver down my spine. 
   'Hey...How are-'

   'Quiet please!' The teacher interrupted me before starting a plea about the civil war. I held up my finger to Zayn and grabbed my notepad to scribble down a message. I felt like a child, writing notes, but at least this way I would be scolded by the teacher and I wouldn't have to stammer my responses to Zayn. 

How are you? 

I passed the note to Zayn and he chuckled about the passing notes. Then he grabbed the paper, wrote back in big chuncky letters, and we started passing the note back and forth, careful to not show the teacher. 

a little hurt...

why?