Can't Afford To Lose Another Second With You (Scömìche)

Strangers

A/N: Soo this is the first story I'm publishing on here! It's already written, but I actually wrote this about my OCs so updates are going to come quickly, but I might need to change some details. English isn't my first language so if you find any big mistakes feel free to point it out. Anyway, I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!!

Oh and also, this story is going to be pretty dark at some point, I'll make sure to put trigger warnings when needed! For this chapter, it's homophobia/homophobic language.

Do you know the feeling you get when you are punched in the stomach? When fall on your back, you can't breathe and you start gasping for what feels like an eternity? This is exactly how I felt. This is how I felt in that moment that should've never happened. Not to this person, not to anyone. But especially not to him.

I immediately turned my head when I heard them. The popular guys, the ones who believed they had every right to pick on people who just couldn't defend themselves. They were in my football team, but I hated them with a burning passion and I made sure they knew it. Because I was not going to submit to them and pretend everything was fine. Because it wasn't, and no matter what consequences that would bring, I didn't care. However, now, those guys decided to pick on the person who deserved it the least. Mitch.

Angrily, I slammed the locker closed and went up to the bullies. Mitch gave me a quick look to signalize he was alright, but for god's sake he wasn't. He was clutching his books as if his life depended on it and avoided the other guys' gaze.

"Hey, faggot" they laughed but to me it just sounded like obnoxious animals just seeking attention when they found their prey. I made a fist, ready to fight.

"Brian!" I called out before I could even think about it. The tall dirty blonde guy looked up, apparently caught off guard, which was just fine. He snorted.

"What do you want?"

"Stop it." I said calmly, with a steady voice.

He raised his eyebrows. His friend laughed. "Or what? You wanna protect this little fag? Oh wait!" He joined into the laughter. "I completely forgot! That's your little girlfriend over here, look at you." He had stopped laughing and was just looking at me with a disgusted expression. "Look at you being all heart eyes head over heels for him. Aren't you a little fag, too? Maybe I should beat you up instead."

Despite him being tall, he was still about an inch shorter than me, maybe even two. Perks of being a giant, I guess. No doubt in a fight he would go down immediately.

The bell saved us. Or him. You never know.

Brian gritted his teeth. "You two. You're lucky this time. Next time no talking, I'll beat you up. Both of you gross faggots." He turned around and walked away, his friend behind him. I turned to Mitch.

"Hey," I said softly. "You okay?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, I'm- I'm fine." He looked up, his dark brown eyes meeting mine. "Really. Thanks for, uh- for stepping in."

"No need to thank me for it. I should've punched him when I had the chance."

I watched the smaller boy. We weren't really close to be honest, we barely even talked. When I thought about it, I didn't know anything about him. His name was Mitch Grassi. He had raven hair swept to the side over half of his forehead, beautiful cognac eyes and a small frame, even though he was almost six feet tall. He always - always - wore the most high class expensive clothing and I'm talking Saint Laurent type of things. I supposed his family was rich, so why the hell not. He was in my art class and very talented, his drawings and paintings being exhibited in the whole school because the teachers thought they looked good. Don't get me wrong, they were stunning - but you could see it in his eyes that he didn't like all the attention he got through that. But Mitch was one of a kind - he attracted attention without even trying. He was beautiful, flawless, talented, and that's why they hated him. I just hoped and prayed he didn't hate himself.

Mitch looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Something wrong?" I shook my head to sort my thoughts, but my mind was spinning.

"Nah, I'm good," I just managed weakly. I turned around, checking the huge clock at the wall. "I, uh-" I pointed to it, "need to get to my classroom."