ɪ ʜᴀᴛᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ (Gareth x Reader)

VII

The halls felt... emptier, than normal. Less kids stuck around their lockers to snicker about the new Hawkins High scoop, more rather shuffling quickly out towards the lunch room and main exit. A high sense of agitation and giddy-excitement filled the air, making you feel like you even had someplace to be. Some boys shuffled by you, whispering about something. All you caught was "fight" & "late." You chose to ignore it.

You shrugged the bag filled with your leftovers over your shoulders, slumping them slightly as you slammed your locker. Last night was Potato Salad night, a recipe passed down from the aunts who lived by your mom's college.

You glanced around, walking slower than normal. Hannah wasn't around. Usually she'd catch you in the hall, or by your locker, ranting on some topic like a lost eyeshadow or the newest couple. Today there was no trace of her, just a couple handfuls of teens who didn't know what to do with themselves. Social outcasts. You shivered, before moving swiftly. Maybe she just made plans with Chase today.

As you walked, you passed by the main exit (which was left wide open on nice days in case students chose to eat outside) and crowds of people went through, quickly. You raised an eyebrow in confusion, before trekking on.

Eventually, you walked through the lunch-room double doors, and then your face fully fell.

Half the lunch-room was empty, your entire table gone, and half of the freaks missing. Including, yours fucking truly, Gareth Emerson.

Your heart dropped, confusion pouring up through your entire body, when a meak little voice shouted behind you.

"Y/N!" You turned, met with Ava.

Ava was another of the girls on the cheer team. You were familiar with her, but you weren't quite as close as you were with Hannah, or even Chrissy. She had big blond curls that made her look like Marilyn Monroe with an afro, and they bounced every time she took a step. She was tall, but extremely slim, with petite little curves that she tried her absolute hardest to make pop. You knew her particularly for her massive crush on Jason Carver, before being one-upped by Chrissy, and losing the battle for him.

"Y/N!" She repeated, scurrying up to you, her boot heels clicking, "you're the girl who Gareth called a slut, right?"

Your face paled, your jaw hanging slightly ajar. Hannah told her. Hannah. Fucking. Told. Her.

With that in mind, she probably told everyone.

"Yeah," you said weakly, and Ava beamed, seeming to ignore your apparent shock.

"He's fighting your guy's right now over it. Hannah coordinated it! Come on! Come on, we have to watch!" She grabbed your wrist, pulling you outside. Your feet almost didn't budge. You couldn't face him. You couldn't bear to think that Jason fucking Carver was doing God knows what to him because of nothing.

But your feet did move, almost as if trying to drag you and Ava back, but they didn't, and in moments she pulled you up to a large crowd, and all you heard was the repetitive chants of Jason and Chance's name. Ava let go of you, and you stood for a moment dumbfounded.

"Oh my god-" Ava began, but you didn't hear the rest, pushing yourself to the front to get a better view. Your ears wrung as the crowd kept shouting, "Jason! Chance!" and your whole body buzzed with adrenaline. And soon, you could finally see.

Gareth was leaning against the fence, one eye half-lidded and swelling at the second. It was a deep shade of purple, touched with a complimenting shade of yellow. His lip was busted, blood trickling down his chin and dripping on his shirt. His lip was beginning to swell now, leaving his mouth hanging open, like a warm dog. Bruises rimmed his cheek bone, and a couple of cuts spotted his leg, where the rips of his jeans were. His fist remained up, knuckles white and bruised and bloodied. He heaved for breath.

Jason stood across from him, in a bit better shape than Gareth, but not much. His nose was dripping blood, as was his lip, but he only had a deep bruise on his cheekbone. Chance stood next to him, looking absolutely feral. His face was nearly as bad as Gareth's, but he did not care, only taking a moment's breath before diving right back into Gareth. Andy stood to the side, holding Eddie back, who wriggled in his grasp.

Gareth tensed, attempting to push back Chance and remain on his feet, but Chance wouldn't have it, pushing him to the ground. Gareth didn't stop trying, using all of his might, but Chance had his eyes set on winning, and began to ruin Gareth with a series of punches. The whole crowd gasped, and you screamed. You screamed for him to stop but no one could hear you over the chants of the crowd. You hated that boy, but he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve any of this.

"Say that again about my girl! Say it! Say it again, you fag!" Chance screamed, and Gareth sputtered up blood, poking him in the eyes and spit out, "make me bitch!" Chance fell back, but Jason tapped himself in, picking Gareth back up and trying to pummel into him. Gareth defended and aimed a suckerpunch to the nuts, missing him only slightly upwards.

You screamed more. You wanted this to end, but no one heard you. You hated Gareth, but this was bad. This was undeserved. This shouldn't be happening.

Your eyes found Hannah in the front somewhere, a smirk lining her face as she shouted victorious chants at the both of the Basketball boys, and a bitter taste made itself known on your tongue. She told.

Then, your eyes found Gareth's. It was only for a split second, but you saw the abundance of pain and hatred in those eyes. It was even more than he had while looking at Jason, and he was right to look that way, this was all your fault. You told. It didn't matter than Hannah set this all up, but you told her. You did.

"Hey!" The lunch monitor asked, and then a second voice yelled, "scatter!" So everyone did, running away in all sorts of directions. You stood dumbfounded for a moment, before doing the same.

You turned back, seeing a broken and bruised Gareth on the ground with Eddie, the King of Freaks, holding a hand on his shoulder. You felt a pang of sympathy before continuing off.