Things He Couldn't Take - Sidemen

Chapter 1

Simon is sliding his notebooks into his school bag after class when he hears his name called by his teacher, Mr. Gray. What could this be? The blonde boy spares a glance in Tobi's direction, squinting slightly at the orange glow of late afternoon sun crashing through the window behind his friend. Tobi pats him on the shoulder and says, "Don't worry about being late to practice" as he and the others file out through the door and toward the freedom of afterschool activities.

Simon sighs. He wonders if perhaps he didn't do as well on Monday's test as he thought he had. He'd hardly slept Sunday night, spending most of it texting Tobi and JJ about new developments in a TV show they were all watching. Tobi has a sixth sense when it comes to test taking, so it doesn't surprise Simon that staying up half the night hadn't hurt his score at all. Pulling the strap of his bag over his shoulder and steeling himself against his guilty, racing heart, Simon makes his way to Mr. Gray's desk when the room is finally empty. I'll just promise do better on the next one, he tells himself.

"Simon, on your last test," he begins, pulling the papers out from his desk drawer, "you scored significantly lower than you usually do."

I was right, he thinks. He sucks in a breath, ready to assure Mr. Gray that he'll study harder for the next one when he's cut off before he can begin.

"Given your previous scores I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and offer you an extra credit opportunity so this doesn't affect your grade."

Simon blinks and his face breaks into a relieved smile. "Thank you." Mr. Gray smiles back. "There's a student who needs tutoring and I'm swamped with grading all these damn papers I decided to assign. It'd actually be a big help to me if you could do me this favor. I'll go get her now."

"Yes, sir," Simon responds, lumbering back to his seat and sliding his bag to the ground before sitting. He supposes he'll be more than a few minutes late to practice. Tobi can do without me for one day, he laughs to himself. He waits, idly playing with his pencil until Mr. Gray comes back with a girl who looks vaguely familiar. Possibly a second year?

***

By the time the second year thanks both Mr. Gray and Simon for their help, the latter is antsy to get to practice. He thought he'd be happy for the reprieve, if only for the day, but it's been too long without the touch of a football on the field, and he misses it. He glances at his watch. Practice should technically be over by now, but the way his team is, Simon knows they'll be at it for at least another hour.

"Is that all, Mr. Gray?" the blond-haired teen asks, bounding up to his teacher who's leaning against his desk, hair tied up in a knot at the back of his head.

"Call me Lance," he says in a low voice that takes Simon by surprise.

"Huh?" is all that makes it out of his mouth before Lance's lips cover his own. They're fierce and demanding. Simon's initial shock dissipates and he tries to push the older man away but only succeeds in dropping his school bag to the floor. He goes cold. "Wha-what are you doing?" Simon splutters when he's finally able to break the kiss. The other man is silent, eyes hazy with something he doesn't want to think about. "Mr. Gray?"

Lance pushes the teen back against the chalkboard, pinning his wrists above him. This time he drags his tongue along the boy's neck in thick, wet strokes.

Simon shivers. "Stop," he pleads, disgust choking his airway. "Stop.Please, stop." He's unable to pull his hands free of Lance's iron grip, and as the man's free hand slips underneath Simon's shirt, panic shatters any logic.

He struggles. He begs. He cries. He curses this man who tricked him. Anything he can think of to get out of his current situation. Maybe someone will come to check on him. Maybe someone will walk down the hall and hear him. It's so late that no one is probably even in the main school building anymore, a traitorous voice in his head mentions.