Beneath the polaroid [BXB]

BENEATH THE POLAROID - 30 | They wouldn't see it coming

JAMES BOLTED OUT OF the room before his legs even knew they were moving. His mind was a jumbled mess of humiliation, rage, and pain, his heart pounding so fiercely it felt like it might burst. The sound of laughter trailed behind him like a phantom, mocking him, suffocating him. Every jeer, every slur hurled at him clawed at his insides, ripping open old wounds and leaving him raw, exposed.

He pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered in the hallway, their faces a blur of sneers and grins, their eyes gleaming with sadistic glee. Someone shoved him, hard, and he stumbled forward, crashing into the wall. A chorus of laughter erupted again, louder this time, ringing in his ears like nails scraping across glass.

"Look at him! The little fag thought William actually liked him!"

"Get out of here, freak! Go back to where you came from!"

"You don't belong here, faggot!"

The words cut into him like shards of broken glass, each one lodging itself deep in his chest, twisting and twisting until all that was left was agony. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. All he could do was run.

He could hear the click of cameras, the flash of Polaroids capturing every second of his breakdown, his shame immortalized on film. A part of him wanted to stop, to rip the cameras out of their hands, to smash them into pieces. But he couldn't. His legs wouldn't let him. He needed to get out, to escape, before the weight of it all crushed him.

Tears blurred his vision as he made his way down the stairs, his chest heaving with sobs he refused to let out. He could still hear their voices behind him, mocking him, laughing at him, as if his pain was some twisted form of entertainment. His heart was a broken mess, splintering more with every word they threw at him.

William's voice had been the worst of them all.

"You really thought I'd be into you?" William's cruel, cold words echoed in his mind, replaying over and over like a broken record. The way he had smiled, that smug twist of his lips as he pulled away from James, had gutted him. The kiss had been a lie. A trick. A way to humiliate him in front of everyone.

James reached the front door and shoved it open, stumbling out into the cool night air. His chest was tight, his throat constricting as he gasped for breath, trying to hold back the sobs that were threatening to consume him. The world felt too big, too loud, and all he wanted was to disappear.

His mind raced as he ran through the streets, his legs moving on autopilot, taking him anywhere but here, anywhere but this nightmare. The wind bit at his tear-streaked cheeks, but he barely felt it. All he could feel was the crushing weight of the betrayal, the suffocating humiliation that wrapped around his throat like a noose.

His shoes pounded against the pavement, the sound echoing in the empty streets, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care. He just needed to get away, far away, from all of them. From William. From the nightmare that his life had become.

The town's lights blurred together in his tear-clouded vision, a dizzying whirl of neon and street lamps that only made his head spin more. He stumbled, catching himself against a brick wall, his body trembling with the force of his sobs. He pressed his palms into the rough surface, his fingers scraping against the brick as he struggled to breathe, struggled to hold onto whatever thin thread of sanity he had left.

Why?

Why had he thought, even for a second, that William could feel something for him? Why had he let himself believe that there was even a sliver of hope?

You're nothing, James.

The voices in his head, the ones he had fought so hard to silence for so long, came roaring back now, louder than ever, venomous and cruel.

No one will ever love you.

He closed his eyes, his forehead resting against the wall as the tears continued to fall, hot and relentless. His body shook with the force of it, his mind crumbling under the weight of everything. He had nothing left. No fight. No hope. Just pain.

And as the sobs wracked his body, something inside him began to shift. Something dark. Something that had been buried deep down, waiting for the moment to break free.

The laughter. The mockery. The cameras. The pictures. They wouldn't stop. Even as he stood here alone, the memory of it all gnawed at his insides, festering like an open wound. They had humiliated him. They had stripped him of his dignity, his hope, everything. And they'd done it all with smiles on their faces, like it was some sort of game.

William.

His name was a curse now. A bitter, twisted thing that burned on James' tongue. How could he have ever loved him? How could he have ever believed, even for a second, that there was anything good in him? William had led the charge. He had kissed him—kissed him—and then thrown him to the wolves.

James' hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms until they bled. The pain grounded him, gave him something to focus on other than the storm raging inside him. His breath came in harsh, ragged bursts, his vision blurring as his mind spiraled further into the darkness.

They'll never stop.

The thought came unbidden, sharp and cold as a knife. They wouldn't stop. Not until they had broken him completely. Not until they had destroyed every last piece of who he was. He could see it now—the endless torment, the whispers, the slurs, the beatings.

They wouldn't stop until there was nothing left of him.

Unless he did something.

The thought bloomed in his mind, dark and twisted and yet somehow...comforting. The idea of taking control, of finally standing up for himself in the only way he knew how, sent a shiver down his spine. The faces of his tormentors flashed in his mind—Marcus, Trent, Ethan, Tyler, Joel. And William. Especially William. Their laughter echoed in his ears, their sneers burned into his memory.

They deserve it.

The voice was quiet at first, but it grew louder, more insistent with every passing second. They deserved to feel the pain they had inflicted on him. They deserved to know what it felt like to be powerless, to be humiliated, to be broken.

James' breathing steadied, his body still trembling but now with something else. Something dangerous. His heart, once filled with hope and love, was now hollow, a gaping void where only anger and hatred remained.

He pushed himself off the wall, his legs unsteady but his mind made up. He would go home. He would go back to his room, back to the sanctuary where he could think, could plan. Because this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

James straightened, his face set in cold, hard determination as he turned and walked down the empty street. The laughter and jeers still echoed in his mind, but they didn't tear him apart like they had before. Now, they fueled him. Now, they gave him purpose.

Because James wasn't going to run anymore.

He was going to fight back.

And this time, they wouldn't see it coming.