grahamscott oneshot

oneshot

Thump.

Warren looked up from his bright laptop screen towards the door, wondering who was stumbling along the corridor at these hours. Checking the laptop again, he saw that it was past 1am now, and figured someone drunk was coming back from a party, a usual occurrence in the boy's dormitory.

He decided to shrug it off and resumed scrolling through tumblr when he heard yet another thump, followed by the sound of someone hissing in pain. Warren couldn't help the feeling of concern growing in his gut, and after hearing the mystery person groan in pain, he made up his mind.

Setting his laptop aside, he swung his legs off the side of the bed, feeling the itchy carpet beneath his bare feet, and padded over to the door leaving his dorm room. Quietly, Warren cracked the door open slightly and peered out into the corridor. His eyes widened at the sight before him: Nathan Prescott limping towards his dorm, leaning against the wall for support, with bloody knuckles and a beaten face. Warren gaped for a moment, taking in the scene. What was he meant to do?

Evidently, Nathan was struggling, and one of his eyes were shut and looking swollen as if it had been punched. Unable to leave someone in need, even if it was Nathan Prescott, Warren swung his door open and approached the boy, who was a little way down the corridor.

"Need any help?" he asked awkwardly, making sure to keep his voice low. His hand absentmindedly began rubbing the back of his neck.

Nathan immediately scowled, turning his body away from Warren. "Fuck off," he spat, continuing to drag himself along the wall to his room.

Sighing, Warren said, "Come on, Nathan, you're going to wake people up like this. Just let me help and I won't tell anyone, I swear."

"I said fuck off, Gayram," Nathan hissed. "I don't need your help."

Warren felt anger begin to bubble in the pit of his stomach, but bit back a cruel remark. "Look, I hate you just as much as you hate me, okay?" he growled. "But you're making a fucking racket and I'm not just going to leave you here, so I'm helping whether you like it or not."

For a moment, Nathan just stared at Warren, lips parted slightly in shock, before giving a hesitant nod and leaning towards him. Warren met him halfway, taking Nathan's arm and wrapping it around his neck and placing his own arm uncomfortably around the boy's waist. Nathan shot him a harsh glare as he did this, as if warning him, and Warren held back an eye roll. Quietly, they made their way to Nathan's dorm, Warren carrying most of the weight.

"It's unlocked," Nathan said when they got there, already twisting the handle and pushing the door open. Releasing Warren's neck, he stumbled onto his bed, collapsing in the middle of it and groaning.

Warren hovered by the door and rocked nervously on the balls of his feet, feeling out of place and unsure of what to do next. Realising this was the first time he'd ever been in Nathan's room, Warren took the opportunity to examine his surroundings. Behind the bed was a large bookshelf with some of Nathan's photographs on display, and across from the bed was a small, new looking sofa. What really caught Warren's eye was the projector above the couch (he'd always wanted one), and he imagined what it must be like to watch horror films on it.

"You can go now," Nathan muttered, twisting his head so he was facing Warren as it lay on the pillow.

Warren nodded stiffly, turning to leave before changing his mind. "Do you have a first aid kit?" he asked, eyes already darting around the room in search of one.

Nathan seemed to hesitate for a moment, his pale blue eyes searching Warren's face, before mumbling, "Yeah, s' in the draw over there." Weakly, he lifted his shaky hand off the bed and pointed across the room for a moment, before letting it drop.