No Academy (boyxboy)

Chapt. 9

It was storming that day. Not just the on and off rain consistent of the time of year. There was the crackle of thunder, and a rattle through the walls whenever a gust of wind decided so. Classes were called off for Monday, the storm so strong majority of faculty couldn't make it to the building themselves. The only ones that arrived were day counsellors and some security who roamed the halls.

"I got nothing, I'm out." The group of four were sprawled out in Markus' and Sasha's room, the cards splayed out among them. Markus had been dealt a bad hand and was out, joining Sasha.

"Hope y'all don't mind," Jay began, organising his cards as he spoke, "I invited a little friend of mine around."

"Who?" Markus asked.

Jay placed his cards, Waylon knew he was beat out before he could go and dropped his stack in defeat, "Lainey." Was spoken before he low fived Sasha over his win.

Waylon recognised the name straight away. It was one of the last things he remembered before being grabbed. He shuddered at the memory.

Markus leant on his hand, "What you searching to get high?"

"No," Jay answered, looking almost offended as he did so, "he's helping me out with something right now."

"Do I wanna know?" Markus said more as a statement than a question, which made Jay shrug into a laugh. Waylon and Sasha kept themselves out of conversation, they played along in the rounds before someone rounded the door frame.

The guy was average height, with waist length curly black hair. His eyes were downturned with thick lashes. His skin was tanned and dusted with moles. Wearing a thick fleece he nodded over to Jay, who beckoned for him to sit with the group.

Thunder cracked loudly in the air, covering the shaky inhale Waylon took. Lainey had sat right next to him. He could feel the cold bathroom floor and his body double over. Whatever the two talked about they kept it under wraps. The conversation was held in nods and implications. Jay handed Lainey an unspecified amount of money and the curly head not once dropped his smile.

The paint on the windows was darker than usual, indication of the shadows that lay cast along the walls of the room. Walls did shudder alongside the shaking bodies within those very walls.

Not everyone shuddered the same. In those cold days Waylon took notice of the way in which people shook. He noticed that Sasha never did, the boy always shielded by layers upon layers. Markus would walk around the dorm room when it got cold, a blanket draped over his shoulders. Waylon would let the cold chatter his teeth, and only still the movement by biting the dried skin on his lips.

He needed some space. As the others continued their game Waylon left without a word, Markus had jeered at him—probably in hope that his provocation would encourage the other to stay. He didn't. Waylon left that room for his own sake.

Under the dim, yellow light of the halls he wrapped his arms around himself. His eyes were unfocussed and he simply walked and walked.

Once he had stopped he found himself outside the art room, all the way at that back corner. He saw the lights off and the shudders pulled closed and pushed in without hesitation. He didn't know what he'd get up to in there but the isolation beckoned.

Waylon sorely missed his privacy, although he had an older sibling they had long since moved out by the time he reached teen-hood. He rarely saw them these days, they were practically strangers.