From England, With Love

Fruit Punch

*Trigger warning: assault*

In the early evening, after ten minutes of stressful crowd-weaving through Soho, we pile through the front doors of our hotel into the reception. Checking in was surprisingly easy, as the school had kindly booked rooms under individual student names, and I had to suppress a smile when the receptionist told us that myself and Pete were booked into the same room.

Key cards in hand, the four of us and our luggage squeeze into the lift.

"Wouldn't it be funny if this was like one of those shitty fanfics and you two find out there's only one bed." Tabitha giggled, causing Milo to scoff and shake their head.

"Don't even say those words to me, I will lose my mind." They said, turning to me. "Me n' Tabitha are on the floor below you two, if you need anything drop us a text."

I nod as the lift doors open and the two step out, yanking a large suitcase along with them. Pete waves after them, pressing the button to shut the door, but before they seal a hand catches one and pulls them back open. A boy, who I vaguely recognise from Sixth Form, steps in, a slightly panicked look in his eye.

"I got off at the wrong floor, haha." He chuckles awkwardly, tossing a glance towards Pete who smiles pleasantly in response.

The boy is tall, around a head taller than Pete, with dark hair and glasses. He's large but not overweight, and carries the appearance of an uncoordinated giant, but something about him puts me on edge.

He continues looking at Pete.

"You're Pete, right?" He asks, tucking some loose hair behind his ears. I glance toward Pete, balancing my weight my leg closer to him. He seems a little surprised, but tries to smile.

"Yes, this is Pete," I say bluntly, my eyebrow raising, "what's your name?"

"I'm Michael." He answers, not to me but to Pete, outstretching his hand. Pete reluctantly does the same, and Michael shakes it with subtle enthusiasm. "I've, uh, seen you around school but we're not in any of the same classes."

"I see..." Pete says quietly, lowering his hand and playing with the hem of his shirt, his eyes averted as Michael continues to stare at him.

I feel myself reach the verge of telling him to fuck off and quite starring, but before I do the lift doors rattle open and I pull myself and Pete onto the corridor, placing myself between him and Michael.

"W-what room are you guys in?" He asks suddenly, collecting himself and checking his room card, "I'm in room 310." He looks at me for a brief moment, and our eyes meet. I try to communicate through my stare that he needs to back off, and sense in return a tone of almost... mocking?

"We're in 309," Pete says with a weak smile. I urge him further down the corridor, my eyes flitting between the room numbers and Michael, who continues to follow us like a lost puppy and burning a hole into the back of Pete's head. Arriving at the door, I take the key card from Pete's hand and swipe it through the lock as quickly as I can, pushing (as gently as possible) my boyfriend and our suitcase inside. When I'm halfway through the doorway, I turn back to Michael, who's demeaner seems much different.

He is no longer hunching, and I see he's almost six foot tall. His eyes, a green colour, pierce at me unaccompanied by an awkward laugh. Sliding his key card through lock he maintains eye contact with me and calls out, "see you later, Pete!".

A nerve in me ticks and a I lower my voice.

"I don't know who you think you are but you need to keep your distance." I warn him, my fists clenching.