2 | Defiance Discipline Dream Repeat

104 Not Entirely Innocent M/M - Zander's POV

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I eventually got kicked out of the library. All I did was call for Alexander because I couldn't find him! I didn't even get a warning the second time I did it. He rudely ordered me to leave immediately. Also, it's not my fault I get urges to do the opposite of what every rule tells me. The silence in the library makes me want to scream at the top of my lungs.

I had a problem that I needed to solve as well. I might've been caught as the culprit for throwing snowballs, thanks to fucking Lucy. So I needed alone time to figure out a credible, promising lie before Alexander's arrival home. And I did. I lied about not being the one to throw snowballs and the reason why I was sent to isolation. Alexander believes it was schoolchildren who threw the snow and that it was all Sophia's fault.

The only thing I didn't get away with was shouting in the library.

My mood has darkened as I've sat on the bed waiting for Alexander for an eternity. It's not like my mood soured because I looked forward to it. I just hate waiting. It could bore me to death. Or likely bore me enough to cause death. It's not like I want to shoot or stab somebody randomly. If I don't get the urge to steal, boredom makes me very tempted to set things on fire or make a bomb. Right now, I really want to make small bombs and scatter them across the library. Imagine if I planted a bomb on a bookshelf, hidden behind the books, and then a person grabbed one of the books and as they do; the entire bookshelf explodes. That's fucking funny...

Alexander finally enters the bedroom, and I greet him with a glare. That's the least he deserves. I watch him walk around the bed to his side where, in the corner, we keep a chair for random shit to be tossed onto. The random shit is tossed onto the bed, and the chair is placed next to the bed. Above the chair, on the wall, we have belts hanging on hooks. He spends no time skimming through the options and picks a black leather belt straight away and doubles it over.

''You do remember that I only shouted your name in the library, right?" I speak up. "The rest, I was innocent of.''

He clasps the top rail of the chair, slightly leaning against it. ''Yes, I do," he replies dully.

''Yeah, a belt is pretty harsh, and Holling will probably thrash me tomorrow," I stress. "I don't want to be in too bad shape, you know. I think he will be particularly evil to us lads whilst Phia's ass is untouchable.''

''I will keep that in mind."

''Yeah, but I don't like unfair treatment. That's why I'm angry with Holling. Do you want me to be angry with you, too? If I were guilty of everything, including throwing snowballs and bullying Phia, I wouldn't dispute it,'' I argue. ''I'm not guilty of it, so I don't think I deserve to be hit by anything, really. I deserve praise!"

''Well, I decide that don't I?" He lets go of the chair and straightens up, rapping the chair with his fingers. "Come here now.''

I look at the rigid chair, feeling how much rather I'd want to stay on the bed. ''Yeah, but if I lean over that chair, the backrest will jab me.''

''No, it's not that high.''

''I'm not that flexible, so we should do it on the bed. I'll let you be on top this time and lie on my back–'' I blurt out the last sentence and make myself laugh.

''No, do as I say for once!" he snarls.

I snigger quietly over his nettled reaction as I make my way there by scrambling across the bed. Grudgingly, I lean over the backrest and clutch the edges of the wooden seat. The top rail is nowhere near jabbing me, but that's bad because that means we won't switch to the bed, which is comfortable. This shit isn't.

He briefly splays a hand on my back, compelling me to lower a notch further. When I close my eyes, all I see; is the vision of a bookshelf blowing up in someone's face. That and Alexander being berated on the street by Mum. It almost makes me crack up again.

"Why are you chuckling?" he asks, forbidding.

The smack that comes with his question does the opposite of quelling my laughter. But I manage to inhale and swallow the laughter. "I'm not."

"Shut up and be still."

"Rude as always," I breathe out silently enough to bypass his ears. Since closing my eyes didn't favour me, I pierce my gaze through Alexander's graduation photo on his nightstand. I think it's weird to keep a picture of yourself on your nightstand. His mum put it there, and I guess he's too scared to move it. He doesn't even look good in that photo.

I steel myself for the first strike, and the ones to follow. Taking the belt is well within my capacity. I'm just not feeling it. I lied to him to avoid something like this, and he believed me, yet I'm still getting it. I'm not happy about it, and a part of me wonders if he's only pretending to believe my lies.

I don't count the thwacks because I, frankly, can't be arsed to keep count. And numbers are horribly boring. I can say it's been enough to hurt, yet at a tolerable pain level. After a couple more, it stops, and I hear him step aside.

"Done?" I ask on impulse.

"No. Stand up. You need to pull down your trousers,'' he orders coldly.

He doesn't need to ask me twice to rise, but I'm not obeying the second demand. I look at him with a frown, seeing his facial expression grimmer now than when we began a few minutes ago. "Do I need to remind you of what I did again? It wasn't too bad!"

"Do I need to remind you how many times you did it despite several warnings?"

"Fewer times than you've struck me with the belt so far," I answer smartly.

"I will add a caning after we are done with the belt unless you crack on," he enunciates, his voice relentless.

"People complain about me being the aggressive and rude one, but God knows what they'd say if they knew the wicked things you did to me behind closed doors." I huff and proceed with what he wants, and shortly after I'm done; he proceeds with the belting.

Anybody would understand that the pain of the lashes increases now, but I'm remaining stoic. I'm distracted brooding over if he knows I lied but pretends he doesn't, and that's why he's so harsh, anyway. I don't consider him a better liar than me, though. He thinks it's morally wrong to lie, too. I think if you don't want to fall for a lie; you shouldn't believe it. If you believe it, it's your fault and shouldn't blame the liar for your gullibility.

The fierce impact of the belt eventually brings me out of my thoughts, along with him mocking me for grinding my feet against the floor out of pain. I become aware of how hard I clench the chair and how I hardly feel my tightly pressed-together lips. I stop myself at the last second from threatening to kick him.
I groan, ''Do you still remember Holling's evil plans for me tomorrow?''

''It's not that bad, and we are done,'' he states, and I roll my eyes, directed at the wall as I push myself up. ''I can tell him to use a cane so he can avoid hitting right on a bruise in case you wake up with bruises.''

''How considerate of you," I deadpan.