Dangerous: A Marcel Styles Fan Fiction

10: Metamorphosis

10: Metamorphosis

   The crowd in the darkened gymnasium was nearly triple what it had been in the hallway. News had gotten out fast. The people here were pumped, all except me. Just the thought of it was enough to make dry heave, or maybe it was just Georgia Rose’s infectious breath.

   The blonde had dragged her ill ass out of bed and came just to witness this. A garbage can was always perched at her side and, above the bets of how long Marcel would last against Kevin, the idiots gathered here to see a fight also made bets on when the sick popular girl would lose her lunch. So far, it had been twice and Jimmy Rodriguez and Riley Donovan had each gained fifty bucks.

   The seconds ticked by and the sounds of Georgia Rose’s puking just made me want to heave more. My stomach was flipped upside down. Marcel was so sweet and I was dreading watching him get his ass kicked.

   “Where the fuck is he?” Kevin demanded finally, forcing a silence over the crowd. “The little shit’s fifteen minutes late!”

   “The punk probably chickened out,” Lionel remarked.

   “Guess he really is smart,” Cory chuckled, “You’d beat the shit out of him!”

   “What did you fucking peasants say about our brother?!”

   The laughter of the three boys had masked the sounds of a door opening. The gym doors in front of them had swung open, bringing a stream of light silhouetting five familiar figures which made my heart race. Silence grew over the crowd for a few mere seconds before the five shadows stepped forward and girlish screams erupted around me, the loudest likely being from Georgia Rose. One Direction was in our school’s gym.

   “So you’re the boys who’ve been bullying my little brother?” Harry asked in a shout. Each of the boys stood tall with crossed arms and blank, threatening expressions.

   “Guess I was right,” Lionel purred, “He pussied out!”

   “So he sent these faggots to fight me in his place?” Kevin chuckled.

   Zayn’s brown eyes were locked nonchalantly on his nails as he calmly spoke the word, “Nope.”

   “I’m going to kick your fucking ass myself!”

   The words had been spoken in a deep British accent I recognized too well. My heart immediately stopped beating and, along with the rest of the crowd and the three boys in the middle of the gym floor, I turned my head away from the boys of One Direction to the gym door across from the one from which they had entered, seeing Marcel silhouetted against the light.

   “Is that…” Georgia Rose began in a shocked breath, unable to finish her sentence. The entire gym had grown silence and a thick aura of pure surprise lingered over the crowd.

   I tried my hardest to regain motion and nodded slowly, following the boy as he stepped into the dark gym. “Uhhuh,” I breathed eyes wide.

   Marcel was in sweats and a black wife beater – not the typical sweater vest and tie – with his hair loose and in curls, like his brothers. His visible arms showed the muscle I’d seen when we had had sex – his only weapon in this fight – and his hands were buried in reddish boxing gloves, obviously curled into fists. His green eyes seemed fiery and, for once, weren’t hidden behind taped, thick glasses. This was not the Marcel the school knew.

   “I bet you weren’t expecting this,” Marcel growled as he approached the bully head on. His arm raised and he pointed at Kevin with his glove, “Now, time to go down, you ass!”

   As the focus had turned on Marcel and this incredible transformation, Liam had time to appear behind the boys. He tapped Kevin’s shoulder and forced a black pair of boxing gloves into the bully’s arms with the blunt words, “Suit up.”

   Kevin, thinking still he could pummel Marcel into the ground, slipped on the gloves and tightened them, which made the entire crowd, go wild, except me. My throat was tight and my stomach queasy. Marcel didn’t know what he was getting into fighting one of the best football players this school had. He was going to get hurt, no matter which accent he used or how he dressed.

   Anyone who wasn’t paralyzed from shock cheered as Lionel and Cory backed off a bit, leaving Marcel facing Kevin. I looked over to the boys of One Direction. None of them showed any hint of worry, and just stood with crossed arms and blanked faces. I wished I could have their confidence.

   I focused back in the fight and watched as the two circled slowly, trying to intimidate each other as the crowd chanted over and over, “Fight!” like they had earlier.

   “C’mon!” Marcel finally yelled above the noise, “Hit me, loser!”

   I could tell by his angered expression, Kevin was enraged from being taunted with the same words he’d used earlier. The only thing keeping me from puking at the thought of Marcel getting hurt was my molars digging into my cheek.

   “Come on!” Marcel challenged.

   With only a glance at his two friends, Kevin charged, aiming for Marcel’s head. My hands flew up and covered my open-hanging jaw, expecting the obvious, before the twist played out before my eyes.

   As Kevin swung, Marcel ducked and missed the bully’s shot. Before Kevin could even process this, Marcel threw a punch, hitting Kevin’s cheek so hard I saw blood fly from his mouth. The bully stumbled back, caught by Cory.

   Some people in the crowd only stopped their cheering to shriek – including me. Marcel had just…punched someone! The first shot had been fired and, so far, Marcel was…winning!

   Cory and Lionel pushed Kevin back into the fight. A small trail of blood dripped down from his lips and the skin on his cheek was turning purple where Marcel had hit him, but the bully stood his ground.

   “You want more?!” Marcel challenged.

   This time, Kevin didn’t hesitate to dive for Marcel. My heart raced as I watched him again aim for the British boy’s head.

   Again, Marcel dodged his shot as if it were nothing, and threw more punches his way. Marcel hit Kevin hard – in the head, the face, the gut – multiple times this round. No matter how much Kevin’s limbs flailed, he couldn’t get a defensive punch in. Marcel hit until he saw blood, which dripped from Kevin’s nose and mouth, and he continued to punch until the crowd was silenced when Kevin hit the ground.

   In the dead silence, I heard movement, coming from Marcel taking off his boxing gloves, and throwing them down on the ground, violently. Kevin wasn’t knocked out, but he was bordering on the state of consciousness and heard, along with all of us, as Marcel said in a low growl, “Mess with me again. I fucking dare you.”

   Marcel stepped from the heap that was Kevin Heartwood, making room for the remainder of the trio to crowd around him. Marcel walked away without another word, stepping through a part in the boy band – who had witnessed this entire squabble with straight faces – and out the doors. The five boys turned with him and leaved, but, before the doors closed, Niall and Louis both flipped off the bullies.

   I’d just watched Marcel, the nerd I’d known for a week, and the nice guy I’d lost my virginity to, win a fight against a football player, who seemed bigger and stronger than him. I’d just seen Marcel transform into something entirely new. The shock that washed over me – making my jaw hang open and forcing my heart to nearly stop – paralyzed me.

   Georgia Rose, who still stood at my side, stared ahead at the defeated bullies with wide eyes, before speaking again words I wished I could have said myself.

   “What,” she said in a near whisper before pausing only a second to take in another breath, “the fuck?”