cover by @brokentruths [me]
it started on monday.
orion had limped into US history over an hour late wearing a thick turtleneck, sleeves covering his usually exposed arms, and the dark bags under his eyes more prominent than ever.
odd. it was nearly december, and turtlenecks were currently trending according to the magazine i had skimmed through in line at the grocery store, but orion hated long sleeves with a burning passion. it was something i had taken note when observing him.
shaking off the thought, i inconspicuously turn my chair so i can keep an eye on him while still giving off the impression that i'm paying attention to whatever mr. clarkson is rambling on about.
my heart constricts painfully in my chest as i watch him close his eyes and take deep breaths. i had always assumed that the dark circles etched under his eyes were due to teenage struggles with homework, and lack of sleep because of the newest video games and what not, but now i wasn't so sure.
when i brought it up at lunch, he shook his head and changed the subject.
i decided not to push it.
on tuesday, he turns down half of my turkey sandwich, one that he usually inhales. even after i wave a packet of mustard in front of his face.
"sorry anna, i ate a big breakfast." he mutters, his voice hoarse.
i know that's a lie because he volunteers at the library on tuesday and thursday mornings and never has time to eat.
i decided not to push it.
on wednesday he comes to school with a bloody hand, small shards of glass stuck in his flesh.
he claims he dropped a plate.
i want to interrogate him. i want to ask him what's wrong. i want to help. but when i look up at him, his eyes are pleading me to drop it. he looks so tired and worn out, that i do just that.
so once again, i decided not to push it.
on thursday he doesn't show up to his first four periods. at lunch, i search around for him and find him pressed up against his locker, clutching his shoulder which is clad in a sweater that must be at least an inch thick.
i rush over to him, supporting some of his body weight. "orion, what's going on?" i plead, desperate for some type of answer.
he shakes his head. "not now."
i decided not to push it.
on friday, he wears four layers, and gloves.
at lunch, i pull him into the empty hallways, grabbing ahold of his shoulders, looking at him clearly for the first time this whole week.
his cheeks are hollow, and his skin has adopted a yellowish hue, even the dark circles seem to be permanent now, but what scares me the most are his eyes.
they're empty.
"orion." i command firmly, trying to keep my voice from breaking. "take off the coat and jacket and whatever else you're wearing to hide whatever you're hiding." my words don't come out as smooth as i'd like them to, but it somewhat makes sense.
he looks at the ground, but he obliges and begins to peel away the articles of clothing, leaving him in only a white tee shirt.
a gasp escapes from my mouth.
bruises, there are bruises.
everywhere.
a/n
explorethisworld who deserves all the love in the world x
#284 in short story? i'm crying guys, ilysm.
YOU ARE READING
orion's belt | ✓
Short Storyhis name was written in the stars. - "this was a story redemption. this was a story of reality. this was a story of what love looks like. and this IS one of the most beautiful things that i have ever read." - @ctfires - highest ranking: #28 in short...
