Paint Splattered Scars (rewrite) | dnf

Day One

Welcome, new readers, and welcome back to those who are here from the original 'paint splattered scars' fic. It's great to be back.

Please enjoy! Comment while you read + vote <3

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George was tired. He kept his eyes on the ground as he walked up to the front door of Essempii High School. His personal purgatory (hell was home). Music blared from his earbuds at an eardrum damaging decibel, and his hood was pulled up around his head like an almost comforting cocoon.

Today, he didn't even make it into the building before he saw Sapnap. He was talking to a bunch of other guys by the "Essempii High School" sign in the front courtyard of the school. But surprisingly, apparently Sapnap was going to play this a bit differently. When George looked over and saw the other glaring at him, he thought he'd have a new black eye by first period, but Sapnap didn't move. He just stood there, which was almost more threatening than just fucking punching him in the face outright.

George walked a bit quicker, managing to get into the school without an altercation with that black-haired bastard. He found his way to the library quickly after unloading his backpack at his locker. Skirting between bookshelves, George found solace in finally sitting down beside someone he could actually stand.

"Morning, George," Karl offered with an accompanying smile. "Picked you up a bagel on my way here." He didn't look up from the book he was writing in.

"Did you get-"

"Yes, it's all in there."

George opened the paper bag silently to find a sesame seed bagel, toasted, with some cream cheese and a plastic knife inside. "Thanks."

Karl hummed in acknowledgment. He was a bit strange like that. He was always kind. He bought George food and helped him with homework (he refused to let him copy it), but it was like he wouldn't accept anything in return. Even a thank you.

But Karl was weird in more ways than one. He was a pretty eccentric guy. Bright colors— purple, green, yellow, blue— were his favorite to wear. He never seemed to be paying much attention to anything at all besides his book or notebook or whatever the hell he was always carrying around. He also simultaneously managed to know just about everyone in the school and also only have one friend (and that'd be George). He was a character for sure, but he made George's life a thousand times better.

The food made him a bit less exhausted, but it didn't do much. George and Karl hung out in comfortable silence before going their respective ways for first hour.

George stumbled his way through nearly every school day as if the bell was going to be any kind of savior. Deep down he knew it wasn't. At the end of the day, Sapnap could track him down just as easily on his way to the bus as he could in the halls, he thought. The only difference was that a teacher was less likely to witness his brutality in the parking lot after hours.

Once the last bell did finally ring, George trudged out of the front doors of the school with a bag weighed down with math homework he wouldn't do and earbuds blasting music he didn't really like once again. It didn't take long for him to catch some unwanted attention, despite all the effort he put in to negate just that. He pulled up his hood and stared down at his phone. Maybe it would make him go away.

Heavy footfall fell in line next to him. White sneakers, red detailing. "What're you reading?" he asked loudly, voice condescending as always. He craned his neck over the short brunette's shoulder to get a glance of his phone.

Despite being aware of his presence, George still nearly dropped his phone to the ground when Sapnap spoke. He snatched it from the air in a death grip and shoved it in his back pocket. "Nothing."

He could feel Sapnap's grin, his eyes piercing into George's, his voice's teasing lilt. "No need to be so tense. I'm just playing." He punched George's arm. It was well-placed, George would give him that. Strategically jabbed right into an older healing bruise. "What? Are you scared or something?"

The bullying should've been something he was used to by now, but for some reason George was scared. He always was. At least Sapnap was alone now.

His eyes flicked up from the ground only for a second to see how far he was from the bus. He opened his mouth to respond, but no noise came out. Thank the Lord, though. George had no idea what he was meant to say to that kind of question. It felt rhetorical, but—

"I said are you fucking scared?"

—an answer was expected. He didn't know what to do. His brain had essentially shut off by the time he managed a small shake of his head.

A cruel huff of laughter. "Really?" Sapnap shoved him by the shoulders with ease, and George managed to trip over his own feet, landing on the ground. An unfortunate crunch came from his phone in his back pocket. "Wanna try that again now?"

George nodded lightly. His palms stung against the concrete. A hard blow landed against his side, and George could've vomited up his lunch right then and there.

Half of his brain was screaming at him to stay on the ground and pray Sapnap would just leave. The other half was screaming for him to run. Another hard kick landed in the time it took him to decide, and he nearly was sent sprawling onto his back.

Sapnap was stronger than him, that was for sure. Quicker too. For some reason, George didn't consider either of those things before he scrambled to his feet, practically falling all over himself as he just started running, fast and far and wherever his legs decided he was going. Pens, pencils, crumpled up sticky notes, and God-knows what else dropped from his backpack in a rush, but George couldn't be bothered to stop.

He dashed up the steps of the nearby bus, just praying that Sapnap wouldn't try anything in the presence of an adult. George threw his backpack aside into the seat he was normally in and fell in after it, finally taking a moment to breathe on the half-filled bus.

A beat of silence. A deep breath in. Blood rushing in his ears. A deep breath out.

"Sorry, but, uh, this... is yours," uttered a confused voice beside George. He nearly jumped out of his own skin at the sound. His head whipped around only to be met with his backpack being handed back to him. "You threw it at me," the voice stated blatantly.

George felt his face grow red from embarrassment. "Thanks," he choked out, pulling his backpack into his lap. Why is there someone in my seat. He looked down at his bag, wishing he could disappear. Why are you here, oh my god, he mentally asked the stranger. He cast a second glance at whoever it was, but they were already staring back at him. Dirty blond hair and the brightest green eyes he'd ever seen. George clocked his face immediately.

Dream.

"Shit—"

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1195 words

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