Make Me Learn

10 - Control

// Hi all, just wanted to do a TW for this chapter as it has quite a bit more blood, violence, homophobia and general trauma-y stuff than usual. Stay safe & enjoy if you do decide to read :)

Alden was droning, a monotone of Sin Cos and Tan that turned to static in my ears. My chin rested heavily in my hands. I had no window to gaze out of, so I resorted to twiddling a pen in my fingers, filling up the margins of my notebook with looping doodles. The black patterns twisted, curling into figures of eight, tying themselves up in knots.

Knots.

My cheek warmed in my hand. It had been five days since I'd knelt on the cool tile floor of that room. I could still feel Louis's touch as he pulled rope tight around my wrist, as he drew the singing pleasure out of me and set my nerves alight. He was godly, in his calmness and intensity. Or perhaps demonic in his power. And so damn human in his wamth and stubble and gravelly whisper. My hand wandered to my neck, as if to cool it. My lips tingled.

I was supposed to be seeing him again tonight, but Lester had a rugby game. I couldn't ditch that, no matter how much I'd rather be melting into Louis's hands like butter. His brother's hands. I cringed. That was uncomfortable. Which Ramos brother was I prioritising tonight?

Alden's crusty voice saved me from that train of thought. "Mr Clarke, you are in mathematics, not fine art."

My pen scratched to a stop. "Isn't 'fine' pushing it?"

"Very clever," he said. "Although not clever enough to remind the class how to differentiate Sec squared, I'm sure."

My ears burned. This guy got off on humilitating people. And not in a good way. I imagined Louis saying 'and not in a consenual way either'. "Probably not, no," I muttered, fighting the urge to spit the words through my teeth.

"Perhaps some listening instead of aimless drawing is in order, then," said Alden. The bell starting ringing for break, and his smug tone became more flustered. "Especially as the homework this week is on this exact topic. Due next Tuesday-"

I'd tossed my bag over my shoulder and stomped out the door before he could finish his banal sentence.

The corrider clamoured with students as they poured out of classrooms. I clenched my jaw and burrowed my way out, escaping into the fresh air. The racket was too much, even for me and my obnoxiously loud music listening habits. I needed some peace to think, to daydream about last weekend. And God knew I wasn't going to get it that night, in a packed stadium with blaring speakers and floodlights that dazzled your retina.

I followed the gravel path along the back of the maths building. The route was unusually quiet. Normally there would be a few kids with massive sports bags taking this shortcut to the PE centre, or to the arts and humanities buildings further down. I was grateful for the solitude, though, and took a deep lungful of the cool air. It had rained recently, staining the gravel a darker shade of grey. it crunched under my trainers as I meandered to the old bike shed, slumped at the edge of the path.

I slipped behind it, away from the eyes of the college buildings and any sweaty prefect on break duty. The rotting wood of the shed creaked as I leaned on it, furry splinters snagging on my hoodie. I fumbled in my bag for a cigarette. Snicking my lighter, I lit one between my lips and sucked.

Smoke twisted in my lungs. It was disgustingly unhealthy, I knew that. But it was hard to give a fuck when everything else in your life was a steaming pile of shit. That creep my mum was shagging. Lester's attention on his new girlfriend, diverted away from me. The school preferring Jackson's blatant homophobia and misogyny over my violent self defence. The abyss below my feet, ready to swallow me up when I fail all by A-levels but Classics. And that poisonous spine of guilt whenever I heard Orion's name.