The bell finally rings, so we both get up and say goodbye, and we go to class. Walking down the halls was dreadful, stares and stares digging their way into my soul. But I ignore it all and go to class.
I tried to distract myself, saying I only had two more classes till the end of the day, but it didn't quite work. I start to zone out, not paying attention at all. Before I know it the bell rings and I go to my sixth-period class, I knew this class would be better since it was a study period, so it would be calm, and I can do whatever. The room I walk into is quiet and quite large. It was a computer lab on one side then just couches and a few tables on the other, perfect for studying. There was also a large shelf in the corner where it held extra textbooks.
I sit on a nice black couch and pull out my phone, since our teacher didn't give a damn what we do, as long as no one is talking. I see a notification, 'Anonymous_ has tagged you in their post.' I'm confused by the notification, so I decide to click on it. Once I click on the post, up comes a picture of Clay and me in the library, hugging. My eyes go wide, looking at all the other tags in the post, realizing this person had tagged probably almost the whole school. The caption read, 'Aw, the faggot and football player, is Clay in the gay committee too?' I slap my hand over my mouth, grabbing my stuff and going to the bathroom, breathing heavily. WHY CAN'T I JUST BE NORMAL?! Why can't I just be accepted? Now, Clay was brought into this, this is all my fault.
I slide down the tile wall of the bathroom, putting my hands over my head, rocking back and forth, crying silently, slowly losing my breath. I feel my phone buzz, so I bring my hand close enough to my face to see my screen, 'text message from "Clay :)"', it read. I unlock my phone to check the text. 'George where are you? Are you okay?', 'George please answer I need to know where you are', 'George, please.'
I respond to him, telling him that I'm in the south bathrooms, typing with shaky hands. I wait for Clay, slowly freaking out even more. What will he do now? Tell the whole school he was using me for a sick joke this whole time?
"GEORGE!" Clay yelled as he ran up to hug me, but I don't hug back, too scared
"Hey, hey, calm down please, just breathe"
"No, no, I got you into this, i-it's all m-my fault, y-you can ju-just leave"
"What? Why would I leave, no George, I'm not doing that alright? I'm not leaving, I'm not leaving, just calm down for me, just calm down," he says in a hushed tone
"Can I touch you?" I nod my head weakly
He sits down on the floor next to me, hugging me tightly, whispering sweet nothings to me, successfully calming me down.
"Thank you... again," I whisper
"Of course George, just know I won't leave, alright?"
"Okay," I say softly
We sit there for a long time, sitting in silence, both embracing one another, not having the need to say a word. We hear the bell ring, both getting up and heading to our class together since we have our last period with each other. Once we get inside the class, everyone stares right at us, even the little pick-me-girls. But not the usual stare they give Clay, they give him a weird stare, trying to pry and get out any more gossip that they could. We both sit in our seats and I just look at the board, ignoring everything else around me. I hear whispers and I feel stares, then I hear the teacher begin to speak, but I block it all out. I tap my finger and bounce my leg, wanting this all to go away.
"Again with the staring man, stop being a fucking faggot, what'd he do, pay you?"
"How about you shut the fuck up, you can't say that word, and I, in particular, like to stare at George"
My eyes widen at Clay's comeback, a bright pink blush making its way to my cheeks. I smile slightly, but that didn't last for long, since someone had decided on kicking my chair into my desk, making me fall forward.
After what felt like an eternity, the final bell rings and I hurry up and get my stuff, rushing out of the classroom, not giving anyone any chance to beat me up this time. I practically run out of school, but somehow someone shoves me in the hallway.
"What are you going to do, fag?" I say nothing, punch
"Nothing? How pathetic." Punch
Punch after punch, I do nothing, accepting my fate. He lets go of me, making me fall to the ground, then he started to kick, and spit at me. But I do absolutely fucking nothing. Maybe I am pathetic, maybe I am weak, but I'm not so pathetic that I judge someone for their sexuality. Punch after kick, I endure it, but then it suddenly stops, blows of whoops, so I look up, seeing Clay beat up the guy that was previously hitting me.
"YOU SICK FUCK! I swear to god if you punch him again I'm going to beat your ass to a pulp if you touch him again," Clay said, holding the guy in a chokehold against the wall, his fist about ready to punch him, for the final time.
"I'm not as pathetic as you, so I'm going to let you go, but if you touch him again, you're dead, got it?" the guy nodded his head and ran
"George, George, are you okay?"
"Mmm, no," I state, trying, and failing to get up.
"Come on, let's get you to my house, it that alright?" I nod my head
Since I couldn't walk, he picks me up and gives death glares to everyone in his way, holding me bridal style. My head is pounding, my body is aching, my mind fuzzy. Before I realize it, he's placing me in the passenger seat of his car, putting the seatbelt on for me, brushing my hair out of my face. He closes the door, gets to his side, and starts the car, soon driving off, towards his house.
"I'm going to text my mom, tell her that I'm going to your house, 'to study'"
"You do that"
I get my phone out of my pocket and start to text my mom, telling her where I was going. She soon replies with an okay and, 'don't have too much fun honey ;)' I start to giggle and put my phone away. Soon we were at Clay's house, which was nice to see again. Before I even realized that Clay had shut his door, he was at mine, getting ready to hold me again. I let him pick me up and bring me to his room. He lightly placed me on his bed, rushing over to his bathroom to most likely attend to my wounds. He comes back with bandages, a wet cloth, and gaus pads.
"This is going to hurt" I nod my head, bracing myself for the sting
After a long few minutes of cleaning the bloody cuts on my face, he asks me to lift up my shirt to get ice for the bruises there. I start to panic a little bit as he walks out of the room to get ice, but knowing Clay I knew he wouldn't judge me. So I take one deep breath and get ready to do this. He comes back into the room and I pick up my sweater, feeling very self-consious.
Clay put the ice on carefully, all of his touches soft and precise. I was pretty sure my face was as bright as a tomato but at the same time as pale as snow. The ice is cold against my skin, making me flinch slightly, at that Clay pulls away instantly, looking up at me with sympathy.
"Come on, shortie, you got to stop getting into fights, I can't do this everyday," he says with a playful smile
"Aw, I was really looking forward to getting beaten up everyday just so I could have you here to comfort me," I say with a fake pouty face
"Of course, shortie, anytime, except for game days," he said as he started laughing in the middle of his statement
Wait a damn minute, today is Friday. Oh thank fuck it's the weekend.
"Hey, shortie, wanna have a sleepover?"
YOU ARE READING
My Breaking Point (dnf)
General FictionDISCONTINUED George is an openly gay guy at his school but people were everything from forgiving. He is bullied, harassed, and most of all, depressed. He struggles with self-harm and an eating disorder. He had no friends. But what happens when a par...
