knives out || why don't we

"Locker"

25

𝙹𝙾𝚁𝙱𝚈𝙽

POPPING THE PIECE

of gum in his mouth, the brunette blew a bubble with a smile; winking at random strangers as he passed by them in the hallway. Jonah didn't know a lot of people at school personally, but he had seen them around; mostly their eyes staring at him with amazement. The seventeen year old didn't mind the stares; he loved them, actually. All the affection and attention he was given wasn't rare for the popular boy; it happened everyday.

Corbyn, on the other hand, hated attention; his hood always over his head, his clothes dark to try and cover himself from the colorful world. He was jealous of Jonah and all that the older boy had; Corbyn wanted nothing more than receive love and not be embarrassed by the littlest things— like the teacher calling out his name when he was distracted.

The blonde had always wanted a life like Jonah's, all colorful and free, but he couldn't get that; not when his father was in jail, his mother drunk of her ass and his younger siblings only having him to care for them.

Corbyn loved space, but it was taken from him when his father had murdered Jonah's parents; Ray Besson didn't even think twice, slicing their throats with a smile— Jonah watched everything unfold and was broken when they were gone. The brunette took his anger out on the younger blonde; cursing him out for the littlest things, beating him when he had the want to and always blaming him for the things his father had done. He told him the things Corbyn loved were dumb and childish, Corbyn believed him.

Now, the brunette stood in front of the blonde, towering over him and watching the fearful, icy-blue eyes look around; Corbyn didn't dare to look him in the eyes. Jonah gently brushed his long fingers through Corbyn's bleached hair; it was messy under the hood he always had up. Jonah leaned down and pecked Corbyn's forehead softly, turning around and leaving without another word.

Corbyn let out a long, deep breath, leaning his hands on the locker he was pushed against by Jonah.

Opening his locker, Corbyn lost all of his breath; nothing entering his lungs and his heartbeat slowing. The knife went through his neck, pushing him back against the ground and making him watch the fearful eyes that crowded around him.

"Corbyn!" The yell made him panic, his little brother crouching down by his head. "Corbyn? Corbyn!" His eyes had fallen closed and the last thing he saw was Jonah's smug smirk, the screw driver he had used for his little project in his hand.

"Took her where the wild roses grew," Jonah sung softly, a smile on his face as he turned his back to the scene and walked out of the school building.

wc: 473.