Wes changed into a long-sleeved shirt, going to the commons, still fuming.
"Oh my god, what happened to you?" Blaine asked when he saw the hives on his hands and wrists, worried.
But he was only looking at Nick, who was removed from the group. "You're a little bitch, Duval."
Nick didn't look up at him. "Hm?"
He stormed over, slamming his hands on the arms of his armchair. "Look me in the fucking eyes, Nick. I hope you're real fucking happy with yourself, because that's gotta be the pettiest thing anyone's thought of in years. What do you gain, hm? Just seeing me in pain? Do y-"
He interrupted by grabbing Wes's face in his hands, getting up and kissing him.
Wes immediately shoved the boy off of him. "Get your fucking hands off of me!" he shouted.
Nick was crying, burying his face in his hands.
Everyone in the commons was looking at them. People had come to the commons just to see what was happening.
"Oh, in case any of you were wondering why the Warbler meeting ended early," Wes said, looking around at them, "it's because Duval here knows I'm allergic to grapes and decided to cover my section of the desk and gavel in grape seed oil."
Nick got up, tears still streaming from his eyes. "What was I supposed to do? You- you made a fool of me!"
"The only person making a fool of you is yourself. You know, I could have called you out on it so much earlier. I wanted to be sure before I said something. You were Jeff's boyfriend, so I tolerated you. Now I don't have to. Now I can say you're a fucking creep and your crush on me is disgusting and obvious."
Nick punched him in the face before he could say anything else.
But Wes's eyes didn't even water. He checked his nose to see if it was bleeding, seeming only mildly inconvenienced. "Is that all?"
He was furious. He wanted to get under Wes's skin. Everything just rolled off his back.
Wes turned and started to leave when he said it.
"Faggot."
There was a gasp from nearly everyone in the commons.
"Oh, no he didn't."
"I can't believe he pulled that out."
"That's even lower than using his allergies."
"Oh my god, poor Wes. What's he going to say?"
Nick didn't know what they were talking about. Using Wes's allergies was worse than calling him out for being gay.
Wes laughed, not turning around. Something about it was emotionless. "You're the only person in this room that doesn't know, aren't you? Yet you still pulled that out."
"Doesn't know what?" he snapped.
Wes calmly rolled up his sleeve, showing him his arm with turning around. "That doesn't know that that was my father's nickname for me."
The color drained out of Nick's face. He felt like he might be sick.
Because scarred- branded- into Wes's skin was the word he'd just called him. When he was Wes, there had been a bandage around that arm, and he just hadn't questioned it.
He almost forgot everyone else was there. "Is he why you're anorexic, too?" he nearly whispered.
"Bulimic," Wes corrected him, completely calm. "Yes."
Then he left.
Nick just stood there, absolutely horrified. His father was abusive? He hit him so much his eyes didn't even water anymore when he got punched in the face? He had bulimia? He knew everything but never called him out on it?
And he had ruined everything.
