Chapter 7

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"Hey John, do you want to study at the library today?" Arlo asks with a textbook in his hands, startling the crap out of him. They had both just finished their last period and John was looking through his messy notes in front of his locker when the blond suddenly picked him out of a whole crowd of students. John didn't turn around, he didn't want to acknowledge his presence just a couple of inches behind him, but everyone's eyes were on them. Watching and waiting like vultures.

He shakes off the shiver running down his spine sparked by the tone of Arlo's voice.

It had only been a few days since he made that moment in the bathroom stalls, so he couldn't meet Arlo's unsuspecting eyes. "I'm good." John waves off and he stuffs all the binders and stationary gifted by Arlo into his bag in a hurry. "Thanks for your help these two weeks."

John knows that the rumours between Arlo and his supposed "girlfriend" were probably all speculation, but the scene he saw and the uncertainty between them were too great to ignore. He doesn't want their relationship to impact his status as a cripple. It was fine, really, living as someone who had no ability was what he wanted. Well, maybe aside from being abused every day but being caught up in the whole drama with Arlo and his "girlfriend" would warrant more attention on him.

He wanted to keep things low-key.

"You sure?" Arlo asked, tilting his head to the side to see John's stoic expression. He wasn't this cold before, did something happen? "Your grade might have been steadily improving because of my help, but we shouldn't rest until your grades are stable."

This sounded like an awful attempt at convincing him. John realized this.

"You're a busy guy. I don't think I should intrude on your life too much." He fabricates excuses and lies like a coward, his eyes never meet the blond's. In turn, Arlo started to examine John to find the source of his abrupt change in behaviour.

The first time he noticed John's strange behaviour was with the girl asking to tutor him, but at that time, he just assumed that he was jealous—and he even felt a bit elated by that assumption, but he soon realized that it wasn't the case. John was bothered by something. Arlo didn't say anything relating to it, but the seed of doubt had already sprouted in his mind. It seemed to him that John wasn't talking of his own accord. His avoiding eyes led him to think that someone might have threatened him into pushing Arlo away, but the only person he could think of doing that was the people who were either close to him or had a history of bullying John.

Zeke was suspended and his obedient little hooligans wouldn't try anything without him. Holden isn't the kind of person to threaten low-tiers, Remi and Blyke were usually friendly to low-tiers, and Isen... well, he at least knows not to mess with John. It also wouldn't make any sense if Elaine tried to distance them.

Thinking over it briefly, it had to be Holden's so-called "friends".

"By the way," John said, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder in one swift motion, "I'll pay you back all the money you've already spent on me soon. I got to go now, bye." John waved without sparing Arlo a single glance and started walking down the hall.

"Wait, John, hold on." The blond reached out and grabbed his arm. He saw the way John stiffened. His head turned downwards in the direction of his hand, barely showing his lowered lashes behind the mess of ebony hair. "Where did this come from? We're..." A lump swelled in Arlo's throat, "St-still friends... right?" He mutters, fighting against the need to admit that they were something more than friends.

He saw John's mouth open a bit, before promptly closing. He shrugs off Arlo's grip and forces a nod, short and uncertain. "Yeah."

Yeah. Right. Right. What a fucking joke. As if that held any meaning. John mocks in his head as the hold on his arm loosens enough for him to leave. He does so without looking back, fighting the urge to look behind him because he knows that Arlo's expression would absolutely kill him.

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