ALL THE WORDS WE COULDN'T SAY

T W O

I recognised him from the moment I walked into that bathroom.

Some fucking nerve he had trying to talk to me after what he'd done. Granted it wasn't all his fault for my rapid descent into madness, but he played a big part.

I hadn't expected to see Killian ever again after what happened five years ago. I assumed he'd go to Oxford or Cambridge, not some tiny university in the middle of rural England.

Or maybe he didn't go here, maybe he was visiting that friend of his. But who am I kidding? Killian couldn't make a friend if his life depended on it.

Or maybe he's changed, I pushed the thought away. A boy like Killian Hayes could never change. He'd been born a classist piece of shit, and he'd stay that way until his dying breath.

I nibbled on my pasta. I remembered loving food. I could eat entire pizzas and snack on practically anything, but now I struggled to finish a bowl of depressing pasta that a child could eat in 2 minutes.

Killian was the only one I'd ever told about my step-dad. He was the only one who'd read every chapter, every word of me, my life, and he still tossed me aside.

I refused to dwell on it. The past was in the past. However, it was becoming difficult not to think about. Ever since I threw my drink in his face two nights ago, it had been constantly running through my mind, all the things I wanted to say to him. To scream at him. To claw that face of his. To dig out those dark blue eyes. To rip his hair out and kick him until he bled from every orifice so he could finally understand just a fraction of what I had to go through.

At least he tried to be nice...

I pushed the plate aside and slid on my crocs. I needed a fag. Cigarettes filled me up more anyway.

I stepped out of my accom building and shivered against the biting cold. I had four layers on and still felt like I was naked on top of the glaciers in Greenland.

As I inhale the sweet taste of tobacco, I, quite self-destructively, let my mind think back to five years ago.

•

We were just fifteen. I'd known about him from all the gossip I heard. I wasn't a sharp-tongued viper who barged past people and lashed out at any slight irritating moment. I wasn't friends with many people but I was kind and a lot of people liked me.

I sometimes think I might've made a lot of friends if my life at home hadn't been so shit. While I liked the idea of having friends who'd I share anything with, I didn't want to burden any of them. Because I soon realised that friends asked a lot of questions. This time, can we go to your house? I bet your parents are much cooler than mine, what do they work as? Do you have any siblings? Who's the favourite child? Is your mum strict about the clothes you wear? What about your dad?

The lies soon piled up, and when a lot of them realised that I was lying, they began to distrust me. I never had a friend for more than a couple of months before they'd start to move on. I got used to it.

Then my teacher, Miss Andria, convinced me that Killian needed help with drama. He was the smartest person in school, having a photographic memory got him full marks in everything. Well, almost everything. Drama was the one subject he despised because it wasn't something you could memorise and write down. He was so rigid on stage. He could recite an entire script but acting it out was too tortuous to watch.

The first time I ever spoke to him was outside the sports department. It absolutely stank of BO, but it's what the note left on my desk in English said. Killian was looking around making sure no one could see us.

"Urm... You're Killian, right?" I asked.

"Obviously." He hissed. "I assume you know about what Miss Andria told you."

"Yeah, she said you need help with your acting-"

"No need to repeat it." He muttered, still turning his head around to make sure no one was coming. "I'm sure you know about my reputation and how this will fuck it up. So, I'm going to need you to keep it to yourself."

I found a smug smile creeping up on my face. I didn't like seeing others in distress but it was somehow really funny to watch the 'perfect' Killian, all A's and no faults, stress out about something as simple as tutoring.

"What's so funny?"

"You are," I admitted. He narrowed his eyes before taking a step closer. He was about an inch or two shorter than me but he still somehow looked intimidating.

"Watch yourself. I really don't care about you or your personal life, but from what I heard you've got enough lies around you you're practically drowning in them. So I'd hate to have to expose whatever skeletons you have in your closet. I'm more than capable of doing so."

His words took me by surprise. I knew he was a bit of a prick but, fuck me, he was just downright rude. I tried to keep myself casual, but I took his threat very seriously.

"Calm down, we're not in the mafia, okay? I'll keep this a secret and I'll help you with your acting-"

"Good-"

"But... I'll want something in return."

"What? Aren't you supposed to be doing this out of the goodness of your heart?"

I stifled a laugh. "I don't just let people walk all over me. Now, if you'd asked me nicely and somewhere other than the armpit of this school, I would've done it free of charge. But the circumstances have now changed."

He huffed. "What do you want?"

"I'll think about it, then I'll let you know. Meet me in the drama room tomorrow before class starts."

"I hope you don't take this as an opportunity to start ordering me around, especially since you're basically a nobody." He looked me up and down before scoffing. Now I was really getting pissed.

"If you want to get full marks in this class, you'll do exactly as I say. When I tell you to jump, your only response should be 'how high?', got it?" It became my turn to be intimidating.

He got the message, took a step back and nodded.

I wasn't too keen on the idea of helping Killian, I found him obnoxious, unnecessarily vulgar and walked around like he had a giant stick up his ass. But it would be interesting nonetheless.

•

I took in a sharp breath when the intensity of the memory hit me in my chest, the vividness of it all. I threw the butt of the cigarette down and stepped on it, hoping to push back the painful recollections of the past. It was too much to bear. It felt like hot lava seeping through my veins and wrapping around my ribcage. I walked back into my room, certain that Killian Hayes was the same vile boy he was five years ago.