SAVED ☆ Bang Chan [COMPLETED]

18

The class erupts into laughter, apart from a few people who give Leah the nastiest looks that I momentarily feel relieved. That is, until Leah stands up and struts up to me, resting her hands on my desk as she bends over, face close to mine. The scent of her cheap, sweet perfume is cloying as it fills my nose and I cough, trying to move away from her.

“I’m going to have fun, tomorrow night,” Leah whispers before she pushes my desk towards me, hard, and sashays out of the room, leaving the table digging into my ribs.

I gasp and push it away, clutching my stomach as I wince. The bruises on my skin groan in protest and then Chan is there, his hands rubbing gentle circles over my waist to ease the pain.

“Channie, she’s going to do something,” I whisper, anxiety rising up in me.

Chan's eyes are soft as he shakes his head. His hands are warm on my shoulders, his touch gentle as always.“We won’t let her. You’ll be with me and the guys, we’ll protect you. Okay?”

"Promise?" I ask hesitantly as I search Chan’s eyes with my own.

"I promise. I'll protect you," Chan whispers back and I smile before leaning forward, letting my head drop onto his shoulder as his arms come up around me, holding me tight.

***
"Deep breath, Y/N," I mutter to myself as I stare at the chipped door to the front room, paint peeling off of it. My heart is hammering in my ribcage, drumming against the hand I have braced against my chest.

I knock on the door, permission slip clutched in my hand.

“Mum?” I ask quietly, heading up to the ragged looking women lounging lazily on the equally as ragged looking sofa. She looks up slowly and regards me as if I’ve spitten in her tea.

“Oh. It’s you. What do you want?” She barks, turning the volume of the TV higher. I gulp, trying to look innocent. It's now or never.

“Can you please sign this for me? We have a camping trip tomorrow at school, it’s compulsory.”

She snatches the paper out of my hand, so fast that the edge slices through the skin on my finger. I bite my lip, knowing making a sound will only lessen my chances.

To my surprise, she scribbles an ugly signature at the bottom of the page, before tossing it to me aswell as the pen, the plastic stabbing me in the gut.

“Thanks mum,” I say, lowering my head. She snorts, cracking open another bottle of vodka.

“Thanks my ass. Better to have you out of my sight for a few days. Now get lost,” she says, pretending to throw the bottle at me. I run out of the room, up into my bedroom where I collapse onto my bed, breathing a sigh of relief.

An incoming call alerts my intention and I pick it up, smiling at Chan’s name displayed on the screen.

“Hey,” I say, lying down amongst my duvet. I curl around it, wishing it was Chan I was hugging.

“Hey. Did your mum sign the paper?” Chan asks me, the creak of a bed telling me he’s lying down too.

“Funnily enough, she did. She’s glad to get rid of me, I think,” I tell him.

“She’s making me so … ” he makes an interesting sound over the phone, frustration mixed with exasperation and I laugh at how adorable he sounds.

“That’s a good way of describing it,” I tell him. He hums in agreement before we suddenly grow silent.

“Y/N? Are you still there?” Chan asks, voice low.

“What? Oh, yeah. I was just thinking,” I say.

“What were you thinking about?”

I sigh. In truth, I was thinking about how much I’d love to be with him right now. How much I’d love one of his hugs. But I can’t tell him that. Not now. Not ever.

I really can't afford to let him know how much he means to me.

If I do that ... well. He'd probably leave me like everyone else.

“I can’t remember,” I lie and I'm relieved when he doesn’t question it.

We talk some more, my heart beating crazily in my chest and it’s a wonder that he can’t hear it. He hangs up a short while later when his mum calls him and I toss my phone aside with a side. Looking up at the ceiling, I suddenly feel very empty and very alone.

I jump up and decide to pack my bags for the next couple of days. The camping trip lasts for five days, so I pull my small, violet suitcase out from under my bed and after pulling a spider off of it, I turn my music on and start to pack.

I fold in pairs of jeans, t-shirts and a dress for emergencies, adding too many pairs of black tights in, because I know I’ll end up ripping at least half. Then I add in my pyjamas - a plain, black sweatshirt and jogging bottoms to match. Baggy, oversized and plain, perfect for concealing all my imperfections.

I add in my toiletries, sketchbook, pencil case and a few paints in case, aswell as my gaming console. Then I go to lie back down again, instantly falling into a fitful asleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night I wake, dark thoughts weighing me down as if someone is pressing bricks down onto my chest and I struggle to breathe, tears pricking my eyes. My mind yells at me, reminding me how worthless I am, how I will never mean anything to anyone, how my ugliness and dull character are the sources of everyone’s amusement. I swallow back a cry and reach for the nearest blade, completely forgetting my promise.

I feel like I'm a stranger watching as I slide the metal across my skin, almost in a trance. I feel nothing, just the dull ache as fresh beads of blood bloom along the opened flesh.

On second thought, I toss a couple into a hidden pocket inside my suitcase along with a few safety pins and zip it up, feeling better. My forearm aches, the impact of what I’ve just done but at least the mental pain has gone, leaving behind a sharp, throbbing ache.

Then I get up and throw my windows open, letting the chilly night air swallow me up, the stars twinkling in the cloudless sky. They do nothing to cheer me up or calm me, and I don’t see the beauty in them that I usually see. Instead, I feel dead on the inside, numb to the world.

Slamming the windows shut again, I bang my head against the wall, trying to shut out the echoes in my brain. But nothing works, the words only getting louder. I take up my phone, going to call Chan but I see the time and stop, throwing it down onto my bed. I can’t call him at three in the morning.

I sit down in the middle of the floor amongst my bloody tissues, clamping my hands against my ears.

I’ve always been alone. I guess I just have to deal with this myself.