Bully || Septiplier

Chapter Nineteen

Sorry it took so long to update. I really have no bullshit excuse other than I didn't feel like writing. ALSO TY FOR 150 FOLLOWERS OK BYE READ NOW :))

JACK watched, at first from the corner of his eye, as the door swung open and there stood Bob. Jack almost wanted to push him away, to block him out of the moment, because he was melting into Mark and he wanted to scream, fuck off, because this was his moment with Mark and nobody could stop that. But Mark jerked away. And maybe he was wrong, because Bob Muyskens could defiantly pull them apart. Who was he kidding?

"What the fuck?" His voice was obnoxious, like poison, suffocating him, raping his ears, stopping his heart beat. Although when he began to fell is heartbeat again, it was rapid and violent. "You and him?"

Mark was visibly stiff. Jacks gaze was shifting from Mark to Bob, who was still standing there, awestruck and confused. A few more moments passed until Bob began to walk away, but Mark took a sudden step forward, one that made Jack flinch in spot. Apparently, it stopped Bob, too, because he was staggering.

"Don't tell my parents," said Mark, and his voice was choked and his eyes were wide and it was if he was struggling to speak. "Don't tell anyone."

"Excuse me?" Bob scoffed. Jack watched nervously, not knowing what to do, slightly wanting to disappear. At the his point he was observing Mark and Bob's conversation; he was just a bystander, blue eyes wide and scared.

"Bob, your my friend, please don't-"

"Friend?" Bob snarled, "You should know by now, Mark. I thought you were cool, but you're a fucking faggot, and you're not my friend. You're a loser like your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend." Mark quickly shot back a response, making Jack physically feel his heart crack. The world was spinning and he felt his eyes began to water up because if they weren't together, what were they? He didn't want to know the answer. Then Mark glanced directly at Jack, and he saw his face pale. He was beginning to take it back but Jack shook his head; he wasn't having any of this, not anymore.

He pushed past Mark's eyes and past Bob, out of the doorway and into the hall that was buzzing with activity. The tears were going to fall down the curves of his cheeks - they were dancing in his eyelids, blurring his vision, threatening to slip and fall and expose him. He speed walked to his locker, and when he got there he blocked himself from everything and everyone. He hid his face behind his locker door, the other side faced in the direction of it, and quickly wiped away a rebellious tear that fell loose.

And then he heard commotion. There was a loud slamming noise - Jack snapped his head in that direction to see the bathroom door being slammed shut, Bob strutting out and Mark rushing after him in desperation. But Jack turned away and tugged on his clothing and prepared himself. Soon, everybody would know. Mark's mother would know - Jacks mother would, too, even though Jack was sure his mother wouldn't mind the situation. Mrs. Fischbach, however, was another story entirely. Jack didn't want to think about what she did to Mark the last time he was revealed as gay.

He stole a glance back at the scene and saw Bob snarling and saying something to one of his other mini groups of friends. As the information went around, everybody widened their eyes and looked at Mark as if he was a whole new person. A few of them just shrugged when the word got to them - like Dan and Phil, Matthew, the rare nice kids like such - but mostly everybody laughed. Their laugher was like poison to Jack, and he wanted to run and hide.

Jack wanted to pretend he wasn't gay. He wanted to pretend he was a normal kid, one that everybody liked and admired or even just simply ignored. He wanted to pretend he had friends who adored him, a father who loved him, siblings that were around to support him. For a moment he got lost in the memeory. Then he realized people, more and more were beginning to glance or stare at him.

He closed his locker and began to walk away, but then there was a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Hey, faggot, is it true Mark's your new boyfriend? I thought it was impossible to infect him with your gayness."

Jack turned to face Wade, eyes wild and narrow and filled with a spitting anger. He was tired of everybody's judgement. For a second Wade looked surprised but he pulled the tough-guy mask back on. Jack was about to respond, when he saw Mark staring in their direction, helpless and lost.

"He's not my boyfriend," snarled Jack, making sure to speak loud enough so Mark could hear.

"Really." Wade sounded disinterested. "That's too bad, because usually when you're making out with somebody you're together. Never could have guessed you were a fuckboy." Jack balled his fist and bit the inside of his lip. But then he counted to three, turned and walked away. Away from Mark, away from Wade and everybody in that hallway. Away from them and to the cafeteria, where he slumped down in his seat.

It took a few minutes for Dan and Phil to join him, and thank god they only made small talk with him about other topics that weren't about Mark. But Dan kept giving him inquisitive glances, and Phil kept looking in his direction. They both obviously wanted to know if the rumour was true. But at least, Jack figured, they were nice enough not to directly ask. Either way they weren't getting an answer out of him because 1- he didn't know the answer, and 2- he didn't want to discuss it.

But because the mind and heart have entirely different ideas of what needs to be done, Jack found himself occasionally glancing in the area of Mark's table, with all the jocks. Correction; not Mark's table anymore. Jack noticed Mark was in fact sitting a few tables away, alone, taking in the glares and glances everybody gave him. For a moment Jack felt pity but he reminded himself what a dick Mark was and turned back when he heard Phil's voice.

"So where's Felix?"

Not here. Staying home. Not sick. Hiding from Jack. Staying away from Jack. Staying away from Mark. Being smart. Playing it safe. Loosing a friend. Being sick.

Millions of answers flooded Jack's brain all at once, some more likely than the others. He was apparently sick - but if Jack knew better, and he did, Felix was saying home solely to avoid Jack and no other reason. "He's sick," Jack lied.

"Okay." And then Phil spoke again, in a more hushed, private voice meant for only Jack's ears. "Is it true?"

"Is what true," said Jack, almost in a state of annoyance. Dan was glaring at Phil, as if shaming him for asking; Jack appreciated this.

"Did you and Mark..."

Before he could finish, Jack cut him off. "Yes, we did. But we're not together," he clarified.

"So you're kind of like a playboy?" Dan burst in, but then quickly shied away and mumbled an apology.

"I guess. Maybe. Can we talk about something else?" Something flying through the air caught Jack's attention - a milk carton? He followed its path through the air and watched as it hit Mark somewhere between the head and chest. Somebody snickered and a few others openly laughed at the red headed boy, who was glaring at just about everybody. It was clear that Mark was trying to remain the tough football player, but this time nobody else was playing along with the facade.

Jack almost pitied him again. But to avoid conflicting emotions, he tugged his glance away. And he continued on a discussion with Phil about anything other than the sad, angry red-headed gay boy across the cafeteria.