No Academy (boyxboy)

Chapt 5.

The classes went by in a blur, turns out Sasha and Waylon had math together too. That class was far louder, Waylon had considered asking Sasha if he had free period next. Despite there...differences he wanted to get to know the guy. He sort of related to his quite demeanour. Yet halfway through math the other boy simply stood up and left without a word, not returning for the rest of class. The teacher seemed used to it and just ignored the absence.

Once class finished Waylon sat in common room on his phone, he was on the academies website looking at the different electives. He never particularly thought about his future. Normally just doing whatever his friends were doing. He wasn't really an academic, or athletic, or maybe even artistic(although he tried). To his defence he never gave it much time nor effort. He spent most of his free time looking for excuses to get out the house most days. He spent most weekends on friends couches, on one thing or the other.

Music, humanities, sport, drama, literature, art or cooking were his just some of his options. He didn't know, chewing his nails. He put down literature regardless, he knew Sasha took that and even if they weren't exactly friendly he'd rather see a familiar face. He almost debated putting down a sport elective, but the prospect of being "made a fool" loomed over his head. The the other twos athletic statures he didn't doubt it.

Finally Waylon bit the bullet and just chose art. He didn't have any particular passion for it, but he knew it would be time where he could get into his own world. His timetable filled out with that and he sat back, he'd have to go submit it to office soon. As he went to stand up the door swung open.

A guy walked in, his face swollen and scabbed. His eye was shut, top lip held with medical tape, a bump on his forehead. Now Waylon knew, Harlow clearly had won the fight. He remembered seeing the guy on the ground, covering his head as blow after blow met his face. Waylon caught himself staring and suddenly felt the hairs on his neck stand up.

Suddenly he got the nagging feeling he should leave, realising it was just the two in the room together. Sure most guys are probably somewhat unstable in this facility, but it just felt bad in that room. Very very bad. Waylon's intuition was telling him to leave, right now. So he went too. Waylon stood up to walk out the room as the other guy pulled out a chair to sit on.

"Got somewhere to be?" The brunette spoke as Waylon passed him, catching his arm.

"I have to," Waylon held out his slip, realising his hand was shaking suddenly, "hand in my form at the office." He trailed off.

The brunette stood up, his swollen face stoic as he leaned down. The gesture could be mistaken for trying to meet the boys gaze, but instead it felt like he was being caged in.

He spoke in a hushed voiced, with a forced kindness to it, "I'm Kian, what's your name?" His hand came up to tilt Waylon's head to look at him. Waylon didn't respond, he felt his skin suddenly go clammy.

Something was very wrong.

"Cmon," Kian smiled, the wound on his lip threatening to open again, "I know you can talk. Talk to me." He continued to try and meet Waylon's gaze. The others hands clenched and unclenched with tension, his eyes kept flicking to the open door.

"I think I should go to the office..." his brows knit together as Kian grabbed his arm again, gripping it harder then before.

He had something unhinged about himself, like he wanted something. Something he knew he could satisfy through Waylon, "I just want to know your name." His voice was still "sweet" but all the words came out sharp, like he was fighting himself. Waylon hadn't noticed Kian had backed him into a wall, shifting on his feet every time it appeared Waylon might try to run.