9: How Many People

377 14 3

{A/N Hey guys...Yes yes here's the update. Sorry! I feel like I wanted to tell y'all something but I can't remember. I'll probably remember tomorrow.

If anyone would like to chat, feel free to kik me! I'd love to get to know you and for you to get to know me. @pickles_tw

Here's the next chapter guys. Xx ~Pickles}

Jay's POV

The door opened and Ms. Hill walked inside. She gasped.

"Oh my god, what's the matter?" she asked, rushing over to us.

Nathan pulled away from me and wiped his eyes. "Nothing, marm. I'm sorry." His voice shook and tears kept slipping out of the corners of his eyes.

Ms. Hill wrapped him tightly in a hug. "Shh, it's okay. Let it out. I'm sure you have a good reason for crying."

"Crying is a weakness," he mumbled.

"No it's not. The bravest men allow themselves to cry. It's okay. I'll write you a pass to your next class. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

Nathan just shook his head. She patted his back and looked questioningly at me.

"It's...personal, Ms. Hill," I said hesitantly.

She nodded. "If you ever feel like talking about it, come find me. I'll always listen."

We stayed for a couple more minutes, regaining composure. Nathan's eyes were a bit red, and I'm sure mine were too.

Ms. Hill wrote us out passes. "Now go to class. We wouldn't want you to miss out on precious learning time." She winked.

I gave her a small smile. "Thank you, Ms. Hill."

"No problem."

I wrapped my arm around Nathan's back and walked out of the room with him.

When we were in the empty hallway, he shoved my arm away. He looked up at me with large, apologetic, misty hazel eyes and my heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

"I'm sorry Jay," Nathan said clearly before heading off to his locker.

I took my time to get to my next class, watching the ground at my feet. How many people have walked these halls? How many people have experienced what Nathan has? How many people have felt as hurt as I do?

I opened the door to literature class and tried to ignore the stares of the class. I silently handed my teacher the pass and took my seat next to Max, who I'd gotten to know well.

"What's wrong mate?" he asked quietly.

I bit my lip and shook my head, indicating that I didn't want to talk about it.

Max took my ear and fondled it. "I'm here for you, Jay."

"Thanks," I croaked out before looking up at the board, which was filled with Shakespeare quotes.

I took out my notebook and started doodling, drawing whatever came to mind. When I actually looked at what I had drawn, my heart broke all over again.

I had drawn Nathan, looking strong and healthy with that cheeky half smile of his and an eyebrow raised. And in the iris of each eye was a tiny, almost unnoticeable rose.

With a sudden surge of anger, I drew my pencil hard across the image, tearing the paper. Max looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Against my will a couple tears slid down my cheeks. I hastily wiped them away and avoided the gaze of the staring class.

I glanced down at the destroyed image of Nathan. With a shaking hand I smoothed out the paper and looked at him.

What had I done?

Nathan's POV

I walked into my French class, the one class I didn't have with Jay, and everyone stared at me. I met some of their eyes and gave them a half smile, letting them know I was alright. I handed the teacher my pass and walked among them to my seat.

Some of the girls asked if I was okay and made a fuss over me. I just shook my head and told them I was fine. I didn't want their attention. I didn't want them. They were so ignorant of other people's troubles, but it wasn't their fault. They wouldn't ever know. They couldn't even begin to understand some of the simplest things I felt. They were too innocent to corrupt with my life.

But then again, Jay was innocent too. But in a different way. As an artist, he saw all of the details and captured them with scary accuracy, good and bad. But although he knew these things, he was still innocent. He was untouched by sorrow, he was happy and adorable.

I sighed inwardly and wished I hadn't pushed him away.

Sworn to SecrecyWhere stories live. Discover now