▎. . . In which seven boys meet in the school counsellor's office every week and are given a group project to work on for the year.
UNDERGOING REWRITING
sidemen...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐃. Ethan had shoved his burning mug down onto the table, chair screeching against the wooden floorboards. From there he walked, astonishingly quiet, out the office door.
JJ and Bitter Blond groaned in sync, the latter beginning to discard his blazer and swap it for a jacket.
"I'm gone," he mumbled irritably before he, too, dragged his chair back and began to take his leave. Just as the backpack looped over his shoulder and a pale hand caressed the door handle, the counsellor waved her hands frantically.
"Please, sit down and let me explain first!" Mrs Shields enthused, never once breaking from her cotton-candy persona. Tobi distantly admired the woman for smiling through this grievance; if it were him, he would have given up on the boys as soon as they left the room.
Bitter Blond rolled his eyes, head turning over his shoulder to eye the woman up and down. Poison dripped from his mouth.
"What, so we can gather around like best friends for a whole year and talk about our feelings? No thanks. I don't have to fucking be here," he hissed. Mrs Shields didn't frown, didn't object, simply nodded in understanding. The boy doubted that, though, because nobody ever understood.
"Which class are you missing right now?" She asked gently, to which he scowled, angling his full body towards her.
"Sociology. Why's that important?"
Mrs Shields emitted a deep breath. That familiar sense of repellence bubbled in his stomach but, for the first time in far too long, guilt was a strong mixer.
"I know for a fact that you don't have to be there, either. You scored the top mark in the entire school last term, 98%,and I know that you're working at university level Sociology."
Oh. The tallest of the group stilled (as did the rest of them), lifting his chin reticently and clenching his jaw. He hadn't told anyone that, not even JJ.
He decided to take a look around, amidst the feverish disorder, to rid himself of his remorse. Whilst most students stomped or whined or glared with dissatisfaction, only one boy remained untroubled.
Harry Lewis, with a childlike wonder, still cradled his cup of tea in delicate hands. He took slow and measured sips, glassy aquamarine eyes floating around the office, and when they made eye contact the taller felt like flying. There rose the question of how he could be so graceful, so unfazed, despite the hot and angry air circulating them all. He was the eye of the hurricane, one Bitter Blond felt inclined to retreat to.
