Beneath the polaroid [BXB]

BENEATH THE POLAROID - 10 | It wasn't going away

JAMES STOOD AT THE entrance of the cafeteria, the hum of voices and the clatter of trays a dull roar in his ears. The room was a sea of faces, a chaotic blur of students crammed together at long, rectangular tables, their conversations overlapping like the static of a broken radio. His eyes flicked across the room, searching, assessing, hoping for some empty corner where he could slip in unnoticed.

The scent of reheated food—pungent and overwhelming—wafted toward him, making his stomach churn. He hadn't eaten much for breakfast, his nerves twisting tight ever since he'd woken up that morning, but now, standing here, the idea of forcing anything down felt impossible.

He caught sight of them immediately. William and his friends. They were sitting in the far corner, their usual spot, backs to the wall like a pack of predators surveying their territory. Markus was there, along with the others—laughing, nudging each other, faces twisted in the kind of smug confidence that only boys like them had. The kind that came from knowing they could get away with anything.

James' stomach tightened, his heart stuttering in his chest. A part of him had wanted to avoid the cafeteria entirely, find some quiet spot outside and eat alone, but he'd taken the risk, stepping into the lion's den, and now there was no turning back. His fingers tightened around the strap of his backpack, his Polaroid camera bouncing against his chest with every anxious step.

He hesitated just inside the door, eyes darting from the boys to the teachers scattered around the room. A few adults stood along the edges of the cafeteria, monitoring the students with bored expressions, their presence a thin shield of safety. The boys, James noticed, weren't making any move to approach him. They were watching him—he could feel their eyes, cold and calculating—but they didn't rise from their seats.

Maybe it was the teachers. Maybe the consequences weren't worth it today. He wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to question it. He exhaled, tension releasing from his shoulders, just enough for him to find a seat.

He moved toward an empty table near the side of the room, keeping his head down as he slid into a chair. The plastic seat felt cold and unwelcoming beneath him, the cafeteria's fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over everything. He set his tray down—an untouched apple and a carton of milk—and pulled his camera onto the table. It wasn't long before he started to scan the room again, his eyes drawn back to the same corner.

To William.

William was laughing—no, not quite. It was more of a smirk, lips curling upward but never quite reaching his eyes. The others were in full conversation, Markus and Caleb throwing jabs at each other, their voices carrying across the cafeteria, too loud, too confident. But William... something about him seemed off. His posture was more tense than before, shoulders rigid, his fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his tray. His mismatched eyes weren't focused on anything in particular, drifting away from the conversation like he wasn't really there. Like he was somewhere else entirely, lost in his own thoughts.

James tilted his head, watching the subtle shifts in William's expression. There was something strained in the way he interacted with the others, something that didn't match the easy arrogance of the boys around him. When Markus shoved his shoulder, William's smile faltered, the edges pulling tight, and for a brief second, James thought he caught a flash of discomfort in those eyes. A momentary crack in the facade.

The others didn't seem to notice, but James did.

It was like watching a storm roll in—something dark and turbulent swirling just beneath the surface, threatening to break through at any moment. William's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing slightly as Caleb said something that made the group laugh, but William's laughter came late, forced.

James' heart pounded in his chest, his fingers itching to reach for his camera, to capture that brief flicker of uncertainty on William's face. But he stopped himself, knowing better now than to draw attention. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, chewing his lip as he observed the blonde jock from afar, trying to make sense of the tension that radiated off him.

What was it? Was it guilt for standing by while his friends bullied people like James? Or was it something deeper? James couldn't help but wonder if there was more to William than the surface-level bravado, if maybe the same things that kept James isolated were eating away at him too, hidden behind the mask of popularity and strength.

James blinked, shaking his head slightly. What was he even thinking? William Carlisle, struggling? The boy who stood on top of the social food chain, with every girl fawning over him, every guy wanting to be him? It seemed impossible.

But the more James watched, the more he saw it—the way William's fingers flexed against his thigh like he was holding something back, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes. There was something there, buried deep, and James couldn't help but feel a pull toward it, a strange sense of understanding that he didn't want to admit.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter. His heart jumped in his chest, snapping his attention back to the table. William's friends had all turned their heads in his direction, and for a split second, James panicked, thinking they'd caught him staring. But no, they were laughing at something Markus had said, Caleb smacking him on the back like they were sharing some private joke.

But William's gaze... William wasn't laughing. His eyes met James' from across the cafeteria, just for a moment, before they flickered away again, distant and unreadable. James' breath caught in his throat, and he had to force himself to look away before it became too obvious.

The room felt colder suddenly, the buzz of conversation fading into the background. He reached for his apple, trying to focus on anything but the boys across the room, trying to shake the feeling of being watched.

James took a bite, the crunch loud in his ears, but his appetite was gone. The food tasted like ash in his mouth, dry and flavorless, and he set the apple down, pushing his tray away.

The teachers hadn't moved from their spots, still watching over the cafeteria with the same disinterest. It was a strange comfort, knowing they were there, even if they probably wouldn't step in unless things got bad. At least for now, the threat of confrontation seemed to hang in the air, just out of reach.

But James knew this wouldn't last. Sooner or later, those boys would corner him again. They wouldn't let what happened yesterday slide, not after the camera incident with Sandra. He could feel it, a slow burn in the back of his mind, like a predator circling just beyond the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

He risked one more glance at William, who was now half-heartedly participating in whatever conversation was happening at the table. He still seemed distant, his shoulders tense, his movements more deliberate than before, as if he was holding something back. As if there was some unspoken weight on him that none of his friends could see.

James couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to William than anyone realized. And that, more than anything, pulled him deeper into this dangerous obsession.

The lunch period dragged on, each second stretching out like an eternity, until the bell finally rang, cutting through the low hum of voices and the clatter of trays. James stood up, his body stiff from sitting so tensely, and gathered his things.

He slipped out of the cafeteria as quickly as possible, keeping his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone who might remember the Polaroid incident. His heart pounded as he moved through the hallways, the weight of William's gaze still lingering on him, the tension of the day coiling tighter around his chest.

Whatever was happening between him and William—it wasn't going away.