Bully || Septiplier

Chapter Three

JACK felt the world crumble with the teachers words. "Mr. Fischbach?" The moment they left his mouth, spoken in his manly, teacherly voice, he knew today was going to be a bad day. Why didn't Mark have a partner? And then Jack looked ahead, to see Bob and Wade sitting close beside each other. Oh, so they left Mark to be the only other person alone. 

Jack looked at Mark's face. It was flushed, but more of an angry flush, embarrassment maybe. Everyone waited for an answer and the silence was tense. Jack knew about half the class was pitying Mark for having to work with the nobody, and the other half were pitying the situation itself, having a bully and his victim work together. But perhaps Mr. Jackson didn't know, and that's why he even suggested the absurd idea - yes, that was it. Jack would talk to him about it after class - that was the plan. Okay. He'd get through this.

"I'll take that as a yes." The teacher immediately turned. "Does everybody else have a partner?" And when a few nodded, a few stayed quiet and the rest made soft grunts of approval, he nodded. "Then that's all the time we have, you are dismissed to your next class."

Jack let out a soft breath he didn't know he was holding. Okay. He observed as students got up, and the chatter immediately started - he caught sight of Mark, angrily walking over to Bob and Wade. He couldn't hear what they were saying too well, as by now they'd walked a little distance away, but he read their lips and Mark was obviously angry. He barked out at Bob and Wade - Bob took a step back and Wade hung his head. The two apologized, or so it looked, and Mark just turned and walked off. 

Jack shrugged and realized he was the only one still sitting. It was time to go talk to Mr. Jackson about the issue, anyways - better get a head start before he has to go somewhere, Jack figured as he stood from his desk and walked over to the teacher. 

But before he could reach him, he stopped when he realized Mr. Johnson was already talking to somebody. A certain back haired (dyed red) boy. Why was Mark talking to him, and what about? Why was Jack curious? But when he read Mark's expression - distressed, pleading - and even heard a few words, he knew. Mark had got to Mr. Johnson first, and was talking to him about the same issue. Not that Jack should have been surprised - of course, Mark was t happy with the arrangement either. 

Deciding it best to steer clear of Mark for now, to get way while he could because he'd definatley be seeing Mark later to be teased for something or another, Jack turned and walked out of the classroom. Mark would take care of the situation, he was sure - all the teachers liked Mark, and they wouldn't say no to his requests. Jack laughed quietly; it was funny how the worst people get the best reputation, and the good people are left to rot. But that was another problem for another day.

"Jack!" Felix's exited voice cut through the crowd of people, hoarding at their lockers. Jack turned in the general direction of the voice, and tried to lift his mood up - he didn't want to bring Felix down, however shitty he was feeling. So he took a deep breath, composed himself, and carried on.

-----

It was lunchtime, and the cafeteria was buzzing with excitement and chatter. Jack was seated on the far side of the room, at the end of a table that was distanced from the others. It was more solituded. Jack sat beside Felix, who usually wouldn't sit with him at lunch - he'd usually go sit in a table somewhere in the middle of the room, where all the popular boys sat and the preppy girls grouped together.

 Beside Felix was Cry, who usually sat at lunch with them. Matthew and two boys named Daniel and Phillip - Dan and Phil - sat across from them. Jack talked to Phil a few times, but Dan was more reserved.

While they were talking about something or another, Jack wasn't really paying attention. He was staring off, to the centre of the cafeteria, to the place where Mark and his group sat. Why? He didn't know. Mark was talking about something or the other, and Jack was trying to read his perfectly shaped lips as a bored habit. But with a quick glance Mark's gaze met his own, and he held his breath, quickly looking away. He was caught looking at him, but why did Mark's gaze drift over with the snap of a finger? 

He quietly peeked over, to see Mark now standing up. With a quick word Jack couldn't read, directed to his friends, Mark began to walk away - but his eyes again fell on Jack, and the Irishman slowly realized.. he was heading in his direction! Shit.

"Mark's coming over here," he urgently whispered to Felix in fear. But Felix apparently didn't hear him, and continued to stare off. Mark was getting closer and closer..

And suddenly, there he was. The handsome jerk towered over him, on the other side of the tabe. Fear surged through Jack - Mark looked angry, bothered. Was he going to tease him? Probably. But what if he pulled him away to beat him up, alone? He felt Felix stiffen beside him - was the blonde scared, too? Maybe.

"Jack," hissed Mark with fire in his tone. "Mr. Johnson wont let us take different partners."

Jack gulped and felt like shrinking back. Some people were looking in their direction. He gave Mark a nod in retrospect and looked away, almost shaking in nervousness. Mark continued, "The project is due in a week.., It has to get done."

Jack, however, didn't know where he was going with this. He didn't know why Mark was being so.. Different. Sure, he was scowling, tone icy and eyes narrowed, but he was actually talking to Jack and that itself was surprising. Why was he being like this? "Okay."

"You can come to my place after school so we can work on it." Mark was blunt, and it wasn't an offer - it was a direction. Jack was shaken. The guy who hated him was telling him to come over after school? Project or not, he was confused.

"Why're you being so.." He began.

"Nice? I'm not being nice, and I'm not being your friend. You actually think I want this to happen?" Oh, okay. That made sense. Ass or not, Mark did have good grades and that was something he probably wanted to keep - he came from a rich family. Jack slowly nodded as if he understood. Mark grumbled something. Then he took a slip of crumbled paper from his pocket, somehow found a pencil, and scribbled down an address in a barely readable handwriting. He handed it to Jack, who struggled to read what was written and looked down for only a moment.

And when he looked up, Mark was gone, headed back to his table of friends, back to his popular life where Jack didn't so much as exist.