t e n
"Fas est et ab hoste doceri." - Ovid, Metamorphoses 4:428
LET'S MAKE A DEAL
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When William woke up the next day, he spent the last of the money he'd stolen from Tom, giving it away to his driver. He had stepped onto the Academy's grounds, ducked his head and made a beeline for his room. He stayed there the rest of the day, and William couldn't bring himself to leave. Luckily, he didn't have classes on Sundays, so he lay motionless underneath the white, cream colored blankets of his bed, curled into a ball as his headache grew with every passing second.
He felt entirely too numb to get up and eat anyways.
On Monday morning, William forced himself from the warmth and safety of his bed, messily put on his uniform, and then strolled down the cluttered hallways. The sun peaked through the large windows, scattering across the stone floor in random patterns.
As he walked down the corridor, William felt eyes on him, the students were probably staring at the large gash on his forehead, which had barely started to scab. He probably did need stitches after all.
When William had woken up yesterday, blood had been oozing from his forehead. William didn't need to be a doctor to know that it wasn't a good sign.
He went into his classroom, and didn't pay his teacher an ounce of his attention. His head was pounding, and he couldn't focus on anything really-more than usual.
By third period, he had left and went to lay down in his room. By some miracle, he managed to fall asleep for a little while. He woke up just as seventh period was ending.
Pulling himself out of his bed for the second time that day, William made his way through the hallways towards his English class.
"William!"
He turned around slowly at the sound of Ashton's voice.
His dark eyebrows were furrowed as he scrambled up to him with a frown. "Where were you?" Ashton's dark green eyes widened. "What the bloody hell happened to you?"
William didn't feel like speaking-like explaining himself-yet Ashton was his friend; he deserved an explanation. "Tom," he simply replied. Ashton would understand.
And he did. He frowned even further-if that was even possible-and spoke. "That fucker," he muttered, then rested a hand on Williams's shoulder. "Everything okay?"
William forced his voice to come out even. "Mary's in a coma."
"Oh, fuck," he breathed out, then paused for a second. "Hey, William, if you need anything let me know. Alright, mate? I'm serious. Anything at all, and I'll do it."
He felt the edge of his lips curve up slightly. "I know, Ashton."
Ashton grinned, patted his shoulder, then spoke. "Good."
Together, they made their way towards the English classroom in a comfortable silence. William was grateful Ashton hadn't kept speaking; he didn't have the energy to muster up any more replies.
He was lucky to have such a good friend-one that knew him well enough.
"Mr. Brown, Mr. Walters," Professor Thompson said. "Take your seats. Class is starting."
YOU ARE READING
He Bleeds Flame ✔️
Romance(bxb) After a year of surviving an all boys boarding school, William Brown thought he had finally navigated the ups and downs that the rich, private school had to offer. He'd even managed to make a few friends, as well as a rightful enemy. Lucien Ha...
