Expulsion gave Liam Barrett a dangerous choice. Needing to transfer for his final year, he'd known immediately where to go. It was a distantly familiar place that'd taken everything from him; had once ruined him so absolutely and twisted his persona...
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"You look like shit," Ben stated.
ㅤCharlie groaned and scrubbed his face. "Yea, I feel like it too."
ㅤAn understatement. Charlie felt like someone was piercing the back of his eyes with a knife. A vice tightened around his head and each beat of the heart sent a throbbing ache to his brain. Not even the sunglasses stopped the blaring light from making his head swirl. Drinking so much the night before had been ill-advised.
ㅤ"Rough night?"
ㅤ"Something like that," Charlie noncommittally murmured.
ㅤCharlie was slumped into his usual seat in the corner of the cafeteria, an untouched cup of coffee deriding him from the table, the punishing smell making him queasy. Ben invited himself to sit opposite.
ㅤCharlie snorted at that. "Yea, take a seat why don't you?"
ㅤ"Don't mind if I do." Except Ben already had, wearing that familiar ghost of a grin on his face. Charlie wasn't in the mood to argue. His self-control was frayed to a taut thread and any mildly annoying thing could set him off.
ㅤ"You never fail to be an irritating pain in the backside. Don't you have any friends to go bother?"
ㅤ"Well, clearly I'm not the only pain in your ass." Ben wiggled his eyebrows. "Where's your boyfriend?"
ㅤCharlie sighed, pitching forward to rest his forehead into his hands for a moment. "He's not my boyfriend, and I'm not his fucking parole officer. I don't keep tabs on his regular location." He lowered his sunglasses, peering over the top. "Where's yours?"
ㅤBen's face fell with the weight of an unexpected bomb. He sniffed. "You're just being racist."
ㅤ"Oh my god, shut up. I'm not racist," Charlie groaned.
ㅤBen huffed. "That's what a racist would say. So much for Charlie fucking Bradley's famous 'equality of hate'."
ㅤThe crack of Charlie's fist slamming into the table whipped the air, startling everything around him. "Can you shut the fuck up?"
ㅤBen's eyes widened, alarmed by the rare outburst.
ㅤWhen Charlie saw his reaction he softened but didn't apologise. "What did you want, anyway?"
ㅤBen blinked away his unsettle and shook his head like a disappointed parent, smoothly putting on the theatrics again like a costume. "Receptionist told me to make sure you fill out your yellow slip, you naughty boy."
ㅤ"Yellow slip, what?"
ㅤ"The yellow slip," Ben said, levelling a look, "—is what you fill out when you miss lessons. You would know this if you ever took the time to report your absences."
ㅤNausea was churning in Charlie's stomach like thick butter and the possibility of vomiting became ever more likely. Blowing out an uncertain but steadying breath, he took the yellow paper from Ben, crumpling it. There was a crushed pencil on the floor and he gritted his teeth as he picked it up and wrote 'sick' in big letters in the space provided. He thrust it back to Ben and shut his eyes, the bright lights splotchy.
