Thomas Brodie-Sangster Imagines

Bullies

Bullies.

(A/N: Imagine that Thomas is your age for this one shot/imagine. Also what the bullies say in this imagine is 100% FALSE! YOU ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL♥)

"Bitch.", "Worthless", "Ugly" and "Freak" were only some of the things I remember being called today. I'm beginning to believe what they keep saying is true: I am a worthless freak, I should just die because no one loves me.

I sit on the toilet seat in the girls bathroom and let the tears fall out of my eyes and onto my school skirt. It's time to go home but I can't - they said they'd beat me up if I tried to go home. Stupidly, I had tried to go home today, unnoticed, but they saw me and beat me up, so I ran back into school and ended up here. My arms and legs are patched with bruises and my side hurts from where one of the girls had hit me with one of PE's hockey sticks. I'm so pathetic! I begin to whimper and I can't stop: I'm terrified. School has become a prison from which I can't escape. I'm trapped and bullied in a place where I should feel safe. My grades have dipped rapidly and I'm beginning to feel paranoid and depressed. All of my friends turned on me for no reason so now I'm alone; with no one to stand up for me.

I wail as I cry and I begin to chide myself for thinking that I need someone to stand up for me. The door of the girl's bathroom swings open and I'm glad I'm sat in a cubical - I feel (and probably look) like a disastrous mess. I cover my mouth with my hand to stop myself from crying but it doesn't work, I feel like I'm gagging on my own tears.

"Y/N?" A unfamiliar boy's voice calls my name and I frown,

"You shouldn't be in the girl's toilets. Get out." I take a shaky breath and squeeze my eyes shut, feeling my mascara dry on my cheeks.

"No. You in there?" The boy bangs on my cubical door and makes me jump,

"I'm not coming out until you tell me who you are." My voice sounds weak and pathetic compared to his sweet, faultless voice,

"Thomas Sangster, from your Performing arts and Drama class. Remember me?" I do, of course I do. He's an amazing actor; better than any other boy in my class and he always smiles at me, when everyone else treats me like shit.

I unlock the door and stare at his worried face. Why is he here? He should be at home. I close the cubical door behind me and I don't register what happens next, he picks me up and sits me on the edge of the sink: making me drop my school bag. "Lets clean you up!" He gives me a lopsided smile and looks through the labyrinth that is my bag. Five minutes after he places makeup remover wipes and my makeup bag next to me and gets to work without me questioning him. I don't understand why he's doing this so I just let him. He wipes my makeup off and tells me to close my eyes so he can get off the mascara. I close my eyes. He doesn't laugh or speak, he just does what he needs to. I feel him walk away and bin the wipes.

"Why are you doing this?" I open my eyes and ask. He laughs and shakes his head in a "seriously?!" motion - I don't get it.

"Because I've seen what those bullies do to you. What they call you isn't true, you know. Now close your eyes, Y/N." I nod and do as he asks. As it turns out; he's a bit of an expert on makeup (A/N: idk if that's true!) and he knows what everything is and where to put it. I feel him put foundation on me, powder, highlighter, and all the rest. I then feel Thomas' hand cupping my chin, with his thumb on my lips; I don't dare open my eyes. He runs his thumb down my lips, making them part and I instantly think that he's going to put lip gloss on me, ugh - I hate lip gloss, I don't know why I own it!

He doesn't put lip gloss on me, he puts something cool and soft on my lips instead: his lips. He plants a small, sweet kiss on my lips and I open my eyes. His cheeks are a light shade of crimson and he bites his bottom lip,

"What was...uh...what's that for?" I ask, my cheeks blushing too,

"Because I wanted to show you that those bullies are wrong. They've always been wrong: you're perfect. I've been wanting to kiss you for a while, I've wanted to tell you you're perfect ever since I met you in Drama. We did an improvisation scene where you were my girlfriend remember?"

"Yeah..." I laugh. I do remember, at the very start of the year we had to work in pairs and show different types of relationships through acting. Thomas had insisted that I play his girlfriend and he kissed me on the forehead in our performance. Since then, I hadn't spoken to him or even noticed him in that class - I was too busy trying to ingnore all the insults the bullies had said during the day...everyday.

I look at my phone and see the time: 4:07pm. We've been here for an hour.

"Tom I have to go home." I couldn't look him in the eye, I felt too embarrassed. His kiss left me feeling tingly inside and I don't know why, I'd never liked him like that but the kiss is telling me other wise. I force myself to look at him and he smiles sheepishly, silently motioning me to turn around. I do and stare at my face, he's done my makeup better than I do it. A smile breaks on my face and I look back at Thomas, he's standing so close to me that our noses are practically touching, our foreheads already coming into contact,

"Perfect." He breathes out and wraps his arms around my waist. My arms instinctively slide over his shoulders and I place my hands on the back of his neck; making us closer than we already were. All thoughts clear out of my mind - even about the bullies. Tom pulls me closer and...

"La la la la...oh" Me and Thomas pull apart quicker than two magnets repulsing. I stare wide-eyed at the cleaner, my mouth hanging wide open.

"We're so sorry. We didn't notice the time..um, we'll let you get on with your work now." Tom says, "We'll..uh...leave." He picks up my bag and grabs my hand, fast-walking us out of the girl's toilets. As soon as we leave the room we run down the hallway.

Hand-in-hand, we start laughing hysterically and we sprint our way down the corridors and out of the school.

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A/N:

Sorry for the R E A L L Y crap imagine, I feel really ill right now so it's messing with my brain. Please feel free to Internet slap me (is that a thing?) because it is so terrible! :( :'( SORRY!

- A very ill and fed up Leigh x