Langst One-Shots

You Must Be Mistaken *High-School AU*

♡▪Gracias for 21K+ Reads, you guys are amazing! ILYSM!!▪♤

¤Caution, contains self-harm/talk of suicide/bullying/anxiety. Please read responsibly¤

☆IMPORTANT: This one-shot contains racism and inappropriate/cruel words. Just to be clear, I DO NOT support rasim or segregation in any way. There is also cruel language directed at LGBT+ kids in this one-shot. I AM LGBT AND SUPPORT ALL OTHERS THAT ARE AS WELL. ANY HARSH WORDS ARE JUST FOR THE SAKE OF KEEPING THE PLOT ON TRACK IN THIS ONE-SHOT. I DO NOT USE OR APPROVE OF HARMFUL WORDS AT ALL IN REAL LIFE. Thank you.☆

-Lance's POV-

"Hey, brown boy." Dylan sneered, slamming my locker shut. I flinched, the sudden sound startling me. "Aw, what's wrong? Is the baby scared of a little noise?" I clutched my books tighter, averting my gaze.

"Listen up, loser."

Dylan growled, shoving me up against the cold metal, "You look at me when I'm talking to you. Got it?" I looked up, struggling against his hold. "No way that's happening," I grinned, "It'd kill me to look at a face as ugly as yours." Dylan snarled, and his grip tightened painfully around my arm. "You're gonna regret that." He stated, voice low, "When I beat the crap out of you." He abruptly pulled his hand back and swung, his fist digging into my stomach. My eyes widened, and I doubled over coughing, my books scattering over the floor. "While I'm fixing the world's mistakes," Dylan laughed, walking away, "Use this. Maybe it'll help you kill yourself faster." He tossed something over his shoulder, a metallic sound echoing in the empty hall as it hit the ground and landed not a door away. I looked at it with blurred vision.

A razor blade.

I laughed softly, pocketing the blade and scrambling to pick up my books from the awkward position on the floor. I winced as I bent over, spots flashing across my vision. I hurried down the hall and into room E-67, English Language Arts. "Mr. McClain." The teacher looked at me from his desk, "I believe you're 10 minutes late." I looked down as the others started to giggle. "Sorry Sir." I mumbled, "It won't happen again." The teacher was silent as he turned back to the chalkboard, droning on in his usual monotone voice. I was faintly aware of Pidge and Hunk sharing a glance across the rows of desks, but I paid them no heed. "Mr. Mastri, may I please use the restroom?" I raised my hand, not moving an inch as his eyes narrowed into slits. "Sure, Lance, but try to make it back before the bell so you can hear at least a minute of my lecture, hmm?" The class burst into laughter. I quickly walked out of the room without a sound, speeding up as I neared the bathroom down the hall. I slowly opened the door, sighing in relief as an empty restroom stared back at me. I locked myself in a stall, eyes hooked onto the dull yellow tiles that were stained gray with dirt and god knows what. "Use it." I muttered, fingers wrapping around the small silver blade that laid dormant in my pocket, "Mistake." I brought the blade up to my wrist, tugging down my sleeve to reveal scarred tan flesh. I winced as the blade sliced through my skin, blood rushing to the surface and beading along a red line.

"Waste of space."

I lowered the blade again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Over and over until my arm was littered with deep cuts, blood dripping down my arm and into the toilet. My eyes widened and I threw the blade in the toilet, shaking.

What was I thinking?

I wiped my arm clean of the blood with toilet paper, flushing it down the pipes along with the blade. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a wad of bandages that were emergency backup incase Dylan took it way too far. I hesitantly wrapped it around my arm and lowered my sweater sleeve. I walked out of the bathroom and took a deep breath, entering the reading classroom yet again.
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-Pidge's POV-