Quinn was sat in class, his legs propped up on the desk in front of him, his chair tilted back precariously. He was fiddling with a piece of paper he’d ripped from the textbook, folding it into a swan. He hadn’t realised what he’d done until his perfect creation was already fully assembled, and he quickly screwed it into a ball and tossed it in the bin.
His Mum had forced him to take origami lessons when he was younger. That along with Latin, piano, swimming, archery, drama, flute and ballroom dancing classes. He hated it at the time and looking back on it, he still loathed every second of his childhood.
His Mother had crafted the perfect image for her only son. He was going to excel. He was going to be a genius, the best at everything. He’d grow up and live in a big fancy house with a pretty blonde wife and children who wore sweaters over collared white shirts. He was meant to have the title of ‘doctor’ or ‘professor’ and spend weekends on his yacht with his billionaire friends.
But instead, he was here. It was practically prison.
He’d wasted his family’s time and resources. All the effort they’d put into making him perfect had gone down the drain. He was just a bundle of disappointment and lost dreams, never amounting to anything.
He’d been kicked out of his snobby prep school when a teacher found him getting fucked by the rowing instructor. The coach, of course, was fired and put on trial. It led to a huge court case, resulting in his parents looking at him with nothing but disgust in their eyes. He was expelled and after the scandal, no other school would accept him.
Oakleaf Academy was his only choice.
And now here he was, wondering how he’d thrown his entire future away for one good fuck. His parents were glad to have him locked up and far away. They couldn’t even look at him anymore, not with the knowledge of their son being gay. It had spoiled everything.
He hadn’t told anyone how he wound up in here, not even Diesel, his best friend. If anyone knew he was into guys, he’d be a goner. Plus, letting people know that he came from a privileged background would only spark a divide and breed hatred born from resentment. If anyone asked what he did to get sent to Oakleaf, he’d shrug his shoulder and lie; ‘What can I say? I was a troubled kid.’
He was completely zoning out of the teacher’s lecture, his eyes focussed on the back of Kit’s head a few tables ahead. He sighed internally, feeling his heart flutter at the mere thought of the boy. He hated how he couldn’t control his emotions. He wasn’t supposed to be like this; he wasn’t supposed to be gay and he wasn’t supposed to fall for someone he could never have. He despised the way that Kit had shaken his entire life with something so small and insignificant. Maybe it was a smile or a messy tie or a little snide comment. It was something so tiny, Quinn couldn’t even put his finger on it. But somehow, he’d been put under his spell and he had no idea how to reverse it.
Their stupid ‘arrangement’ had started in the showers, late at night, when nobody else was around. He wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but they’d ended up kissing like the world was ending. The next thing he knew, Quinn was being shoved up against the tiled wall, concealing his moans and feeling as much of Kit’s body as he possibly could.
And now he was a lovesick puppy with a broken heart.
Once the bell signalled the end of the lesson, he hurriedly packed up his books and shoved his way past the hustling students and out the room, receiving a few muttered insults and middle fingers. Thankfully, it was the end of the day, meaning he could retire to his dorm and cut the rest of the world out until tomorrow. But apparently, the world had other plans.
He was suddenly grabbed by his forearm and dragged into a nearby storage cupboard. The movements were so quick and smooth, no one even noticed him being kidnapped in the middle of the busy corridor. He squirmed and struggled and tried to break free, kicking his feet furiously.
“Jesus, calm down, it’s me!”
He was finally released, stumbling back and squinting into the darkness, “Kit? What the fuck!”
Kit blindly felt along the wall for a switch and in a few moments, a lightbulb flickered on above them. The room was small and cramped, lined with shelves holding cleaning supplies and bin bags. Brooms and mops were leant against the wall and the entire room smelt faintly of bleach. “I saw you staring at me, Starr, you looked pretty hungry.” Kit murmured, pulling Quinn forward by his belt loops.
“Fuck this.” Quinn protested, mustering all his strength to push Kit away.
“What, you don’t want this?” He laughed. “I find that pretty hard to believe.”
“Leave me alone, Samuels.” He hissed, noticing a faint bruise shadowing Kit’s cheek from when he’d punched him.
Kit noticed what he was looking at and smirked, “You hurt me pretty bad.” He lied. “Don’t you think you owe me?”
“I don’t owe you a thing.”
“What’s up with you? Why are you being so difficult all of a sudden?”
“I’m not a slut.” He blurted out before he could even process his words. “Okay?”
“Okay.” Kit chuckled, “Sure.”
“Or a whore.”
Kit rose his hands in surrender, “Or a whore.” He agreed.
“Are you even gay?”
“Answer the question.”
Kit groaned loudly in complaint as he leant back against the door, “No.”
“So...what, I’m just a toy?”
“Yeah. Pretty much. That’s what we fucking agreed on, remember?” He snapped in irritation. “We use each other and that’s okay because the feeling’s mutual, right?”
“Right.” Quinn whispered to himself.
“So, are we gonna fuck or...?”
Quinn rolled his eyes and took a quick stride forward, his hands fisting into Kit’s blazer as he slammed their lips together. Kit stumbled back, accidentally knocking into a shelf and sending a bucketload of supplies tumbling to the floor. His back hit the wall clumsily as he gripped onto Quinn for support, his fingers knotting into his dirty blond hair.
Kit quickly regained his senses and attempted to twist the situation around. Quinn was taking advantage of being dominant for once, but no way would Kit let that happen. He pried Quinn’s lips open with his tongue and kissed him feverishly, relishing in the feeling of his warm mouth and satisfied moan.
The boys didn’t waste much time after that. They hastily undressed and got straight to it with minimum preparation involved. Once they were done, Quinn felt so dirty, he almost broke down crying.
“When are you next free?” Kit queried as he fiddled with his belt buckle and rearranged his scruffy tie.
Quinn shrugged, sitting in the corner with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring into nothingness.
“Yo. Dude.” Kit prodded him with his foot. “You’re not having, like, a panic attack or some shit, right? ’Cause I don’t know how to deal with that type of—”
“D’you even know what a fucking panic attack is?” Quinn snapped, untangling his limbs and staggering into a standing position. “Or are you that much of an idiot?”
Kit rose his brows and folded his arms over his chest expectantly, “Excuse me?”
“Oh, you deaf now too?”
“Hey, fuck you!” Kit spat, advancing towards him threateningly. He was a lot taller and broader than Quinn, he knew he could win a fight easily.
“No, fuck you, Samuels! I’m done.” He turned for the door, but was grabbed by the back of his shirt before he could leave.
“What d’you mean you’re done?”
"This. I’m done with it and I’m done with you.”
Kit laughed cruelly, “Stop treating it like a fucking relationship, Starr, we shagged and that was it."
Without giving it a second thought, Quinn suddenly yanked his knee up, letting it collide with Kit’s groin at full force.
Kit groaned loudly, stumbling back as he leant against the wall for support, doubled over in pain. “What the fuck, Quinn!” He shouted in anger, his face scrunched up in pain. His expression resembled one of red hot, unfiltered anger. “Are you fucking crazy?”
Quinn’s eyes widened at what he’d done, his face draining of colour in shock, “Oh my god.” He muttered. He suddenly felt a pang of indescribable guilt, twisting and writhing in his stomach uncomfortably. Before he could succumb to apologising, he quickly shut his mouth, turned on his heels and almost sprinted out of the cupboard.
He wouldn’t let himself say sorry, he had to keep believing that Kit deserved it. And after what he’d just done to the boy, there was only one thought whirling around his head.
He called me Quinn.
Benji was sat on a bench in the courtyard, his knees pulled up to his chest, his nose buried in a book. He was nestled in the corner of the concrete playground, watching boys laugh and smoke and push each other around jokingly. Although he was miles away from his comfort zone, he was forcing himself not to return to his dorm. He needed to be outside, even if it was only for a few minutes. Otherwise he’d fall ill from being cooped up inside all day.
He flinched when someone collapsed into the seat beside him, their knee bobbing up and down in frustration, their fists clenching and unclenching. Benji recognised him to be Diesel’s friend. The one who’d fought Kit in the corridor the other week. He looked on edge, like he could punch something.
He finally dragged his eyes to Benji and in his rage, barely even recognised him to be Kit’s roommate, “You got a spare smoke?” He asked.
Benji tensed at being addressed unexpectedly, “N-No, sorry.”
“Fuck.” Quinn cursed under his breath, “You got anything?”
Benji shook his head.
He groaned, tilting his head back and letting his eyes fall shut, “Shit.”
“Are you okay?” Again, Benji regretted his words the second he opened his mouth. He should have just turned back to his book and shut up. But he couldn’t help himself, the boy was clearly struggling with something.
Quinn’s brows drew together into a frown, but his eyes remained shut. “Are you?”
“Uh...” Benji pondered, wondering where the question had come from. “I’m okay.”
Quinn scoffed, opened his eyes and scanned Benji up and down, “Bullshit.” He laughed humourlessly. “Let me guess...theft? Arson? Ooh, did you nick a tampon from your Mummy’s purse?”
“I stabbed my Dad.” Benji blurted out, bowing his head as his cheeks warmed.
Quinn’s brows rose, his shoulders slumping, “Shit.” He muttered, “You one of those weirdos who brings their pet rat to school? Or was your Dad just a wanker?”
Benji stayed silent, gulping down his insecurities. The memories were too fresh for him, he couldn’t handle talking about this. “I-I don’t...”
“I’m messing with you, kid.” He nudged him jokingly, “Oh, hey, you’re Samuels’ roommate, right?”
Benji nodded shyly, “Why did you fight him?”
He smirked slyly to himself, “Kit’s a dickhead. Don’t forget that, Pup.”
“I have a name, you know.”
“Yeah?” Quinn laughed. “I do too. I bet you don’t know mine either, huh?”
Benji blushed in realisation and shook his head, “What is it?”
“Quinn. Most people just call me Starr though.”
“Benji Cooper. Most people just call me Pup though.” He mumbled.
“Nicknames wear. Well, some do. Diesel’s been Diesel for as long as I’ve known him.”
“What’s his real name?”
“Fuck knows.” Quinn snorted.
Benji’s brows furrowed in confusion, “You don’t know his real name?”
“Course not. Why would I?”
“I thought you guys were like...best friends?”
Quinn rolled his eyes, “That’s such a wet title. Makes it sounds like we’re a couple of twelve year olds gossiping about celebrities. We’re mates, that’s it.”
“Well, surely you’d still know his—”
“Jesus, Cooper, I don’t. What’s the big deal?”
Benji was slightly taken aback at being referred to by his last name. People only called him Pup, even Lucky - his closest friend so far. No one had called him Cooper before. “I-I was just wondering.”
“Well, don’t. That’s the type of thing that gets you stabbed. And you know all about stabbing people, don’t you?”
Benji gulped and shut his mouth, “Right. Sorry.”
Quinn rolled his eyes and stood up, ruffling Benji’s hair before sauntering off with his hands in his pockets, heading for a group of kids passing around a cigarette. Benji watched him go before turning back to his book, confused and puzzled about the strange interaction with Starr.