[Chapter Four]
[foul language]
The weekend had finally ended, and Thomas knew he hsd to actually speak to someone, anyone, now. But hopefully he could ignore and show no emotions to and around Dylan, because thats not exactly what he wanted right. Especially since he'd done nothing but lie in bed for two days, staring at the ceiling. He didnt even play music or read. He just started, his cat Mollie pressed up against his side.
He kissed her head, that morning, and sat up. His mom was constantly yelling at him to get up, and had been for the past half an hour or so. He, literally, rolled out of his bed, where he had stayed in the cacoon, and pondered whether to shower. Considering he hsdnt for about three or four days, he decided it wad a good idea.
Grabbing a pair of black jeans, a grey shirt and a blue sweater, he headed to the bathroom to get ready.
-
Thomas growled when he saw Dylan at the door of the theatre, laughing and joking around with some of the lead actors, who were horrible. They were the ones himself, Al and Luke didn't likw. And now, he hated the girl, Violet, -or 'Vi'. Who the fucks name is Vi?- even more, because Dylan was smirking and winking as he flirted with her.
He huffed, walking at fast pase, making Dylans head whip around, and a happy grin spread across his face, but the small boy simply pushed past him, his back hitting the door, and his heart sinking into a black obyss.
Thomas strode to the dressing room, dumping his Dan and Phil bag, the galaxy one, on his usual chair. He went straight to Al, feeling more hurt than angry now, and took his outfit for his next scene and going to get changed. He was angrily putting the clothes on, when there was a knock on the door. "Go away, Luke, Ill be out in a second," he rolled his eyes, finishing up.
He was now wearing a black button up, and a pair of the tightest black jeans youd ever see. He slung the bag over his shoulder before slamming the door wide open, whoever was knocking hopped back and nearly knocked over Violet, but they didnt care. Thomas nearly spat when he regocnised Dylan, and crossed his arms over his chest.
"What do you want?" He asked, the words spiralling out of his soft lips like rapid fire, a venomous tone hinting to it. Dylan was taken back, and hurt flashed through his eyes, before they returned to their emotionless mess that theyd been like for the past two days.
"I uh, rehearse?" He asked, resting his porcelain hand on the back of his neck. The older boys heart lifted when Thomas sweetly smiled placing both his pale hands on his chest, but was shocked when the small boys expressiong changed to a scowl full of hatrid, and he shoved Dylan backwards, and into the empty cardboard boxes. He didnt care about the pain, he just wanted to curl up and cry.
Thomas, however, stormed over to Luke and let him do his thing for half an hour, finally looking "emo" enough, before going to his corner, where there was a folded piece of paper laying on his bag. 'why are you mad at me? Heres my number; [XXX-XXX-XXX] -dylan'
he scoffed, scrunching it up and shoving it into his bag, xue to there not being any bins around in the room. He knew, really, he was overreacting and that it was stupid, but he knes Dylan knew what it was about, and made it worse by flirting and acting like nothing happened. He just wanted to go back to being boring old Thomas Sangster.
He rolled his eyes, walking to the director, Brooke, who was pointing to things from the back of the stage, and yelling st people. Funny, because she want that much for talking or socializing usually. She was more Als friend then his own, but he decided to do this anyway. He knew Dylan could still see him, so he whispered something into Brookes ear, who nodded and giggled.
He started complimenting her and flirting with her, making her blush and giggle. This continued until a slam was heard, and the door to the theatre was slammed closed. He gave Brooke a thumbs up, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm never doing that again, I have a boyfriend!" She groaned, flipping her haze hlair over a shoulder and going to yell at a props person.
He thanked her over the loud, obnoxious voices of the drama group and rushed out into the hall, where he saw a brown mop of hair against the teal lockers. He knew it was Dylan instantly, even though his face was buried in his knees and his arms were wrapped tightly around his legs.
"What the fuck do you want?" Dylan asked, muffled by his jeans, his voice straining and making it sound forced and scratchy. "Whoa, calm down mate," Thomas smirked, thinking he would friendzone the one he was being friendzoned by, now.
"Fuck off. Dont talk to me," he spat, hopping to his feet and showing off his face. His eyes were red and puffy, tears staining his cheeks and over all, he looked a mess. Even his hair was messed up, and his knuckles were bleeding, the dented locker next to him proving he punched it.
"I only did to you what you did to me, get used to it, because im not stopping anytime soon," Thomas scowled, walking straight past Dylan in a normal paste, and the older boy followed him. They were just walking, Thomas a few metres in front of Dylan and the older boy just following Thomas. The blonde boy soon found the door, and Dylan jogged a little to catch up.
In a matter of seconds, Thomas span around and pushed Dylan back, making the older boy stumble. He soon caught up again though, pushing the small boy into a wall, where he cringed and punched it, letting a few tears fall. Dylan frowned, realising hed hurt him once again, and started apologising, letting his hand trail up the blonde boys back and rest of his shoulder.
Like lightning, however, Thomas reacted and turned around, punching Dylan in the face, and letting him fall to the ground, also hitting a small display desk and knocking it over, along with a glass bowl, that left a massive crimson read gash in his leg, blood oozing out by the second.
Thomas gave him one more look, before the tears came on and he pelted it out of school.
They knew they were overreacting now, but this had gone too far and made matters worse.
