𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝔾𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤 ➷ ℙ𝕙𝕒𝕟

. 5 .

Dan's P.O.V.

"What do you want, Jackson?" I ask, trying to sound confident but end up just saying in a pitiful, small voice.

"Got some false confidence in ya now, huh?" He leans down closer to me, getting right up in my face.

I don't answer.

"Not talking now, eh? Think that'll really help this whole faggot freak show thing you got goin' on?"

He slams both hands on either side of my head, making a loud clang against the lockers. I jump at the sudden noise and try to curl up into myself.

"You should just kill yourself." He scoffs, taking his hand and punching me in the stomach.

I wince in pain and move my arms so they were holding my stomach.

Jackson then proceeds to kick me hard in my leg, causing me to fall over suddenly.

I put my arm out to brace my fall, but when I land it causes my arm to bend farther than normal. A sharp pain travels up from my elbow.

I hiss in pain, as Jackson laughs, getting ready to kick me again. He would've too if there wasn't a sudden voice approaching him.

"Hey, Moore!"

Over comes Mr. Punk himself, Phil Lester.

Just worried he would want to help beat me up, I scoot back up to the wall and hold my arm in pain.

"What is it, Lester? Got a problem?" Jackson says, venom lacing his voice.

"Yeah, actually, I do. What makes you think you have the right to beat someone up who didn't do anything to you?" Phil comes face to face with Jackson.

Phil was a very intimidating person. So was Jackson. I was surprised to see quick flashes of fear behind Jackson's eyes.

Phil had to be at least two inches taller than Jackson, and Jackson was at least 5'10.

"He's a freak! He deserves it. Have you seen him? He's a fucking faggot too! What, with wearing all those pastel colors." Jackson exclaims in defense.

"He's not a freak or a faggot. Using derogatory terms like that makes you worse than anything he's probably ever done! So I suggest you bugger off before I start throwing punches!" Phil grabs Jackson shirt collar, yelling in his face.

He lets go a Jackson and glares at him. Jackson stomps off with a 'hmph' and some other incoherent mumbled words.

Phil turns his attention to me. His hard glare turns into concern as he approaches me sitting on the ground, clutching my arm in pain.

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"Why did you scare him off?" I reply to his question with my own.

Phil's P.O.V.

"No one deserves to be treated like that. Especially you because you have that bone disorder thingy."

I hold out my hand to help him stand up.

His brown doe-eyes cautiously look into my blue eyes, then back down at my hand.

He slowly extends the arm that was holding his other one out and grabs my hand daintily.

"What's your name, remind me?" I ask the boy.

"Dan. Howell. Er- Dan Howell. Sorry, that was weird." Dan shakes his head in a flustered state.

I help lift him up, and he unconsciously grips onto my arm before steadying himself.

"Is your arm okay? You were clutching it super hard on the ground." I ask, concern lacing my voice.

"Oh, um, I think I sprained my elbow. It's fine though- it happens a lot." Dan replies in the softest voice I've ever heard.

I felt bad for Dan. He was constantly being picked on and bullied just because of his disorder. I always saw him getting picked on but never bothered to do anything in fear I would lose reputation points.

I guess I decided to help him today because I got fed up with Jackson being a bitch to him.

"Well, let's get you fixed up then." I say to him, starting to lead him toward the nurse's office.

"Oh, I'm fine. I should just get to class and you should too. It's starting soon. I'm fine, I promise." Dan replies frantically.

"Are you sure?"

He nods his head up and down vigorously.

"Well, I might as well walk you to class then, since we have the same first period."

Dan doesn't say anything in response, just silently walks to his class beside me. He kept taking quick glances at me to make sure I wasn't going to do anything rude or mean.

I don't blame him; with how everyone else treats him, I wouldn't trust some punk guy to walk me to class that looks like he does the same thing as the rest of the bullies in the school.

I never really considered myself a bully. Sure, I said mean things here and there to people who didn't do anything wrong, but doesn't everyone on a bad day?

I did, however, do some typical 'punk' things. I smoked, drank alcohol even though I was underage, went to parties. Most of the girls in this school and even some of the guys have wanted to go out with me at some point. It was awkward when a girl asked me though because I was, well, very much gay.

I obviously looked the very opposite, and I liked it that way. I would hate for someone to find out I was gay. It would ruin my entire reputation.

I had nothing wrong with gay people or being gay; I just didn't want to ruin the walls I had built up.

We reach the classroom, and I open the door for Dan. He mumbles a quiet thank you and heads to sit at a desk in the back.

I've never been one of those kids who show up early to class, but today I guess I was. There were still three minutes before class started.

Other than Dan and I, there were only about five other students in the classroom. All of them looked up when I entered, obviously. The punk bad-boy of the school just came to class early.

Out of all the seats I could've sat in, I sat in the same one as yesterday. Right next to Dan Howell.

I could see him visibly tense in his seat as I sat down. I understood though, I looked quite intimidating. I prefer to keep it that way too.

After three minutes of me staring at Dan, and him staring down awkwardly at his arm that was laying on the desk and students slowly filing in, the teacher finally walked into class.