♡In Your Dreams♡ (Jamilton)

Chapter 19: On the Other Side of the Bullying

It was January 2nd, which meant that, obviously, the day before was the start of a new year.

And the new year didn't exactly start off great for Thomas.

Binder in hand, (I dunno if colleges use bimders, since I'm not in college yet,) Thomas made his way to his only class of the day. Alex was lucky; he didn't have any classes to get to that day. And there Thomas was, entering the debate classroom. Why did he need to take that class, anyway? He could already sway anyone to be on his side.

Rubbing his eyes, Thomas sat down at his desk, desperately trying to comb his floof that was getting a bit out of control. He didn't have time to brush it that morning, since he forgot to set his alarm. He practically had to dash to the debate room to make it on time.

With a sigh, Thomas figured that his floof was groomed enough. He opened his binder, as well as his notebook that was hooked into it. (I dunno how to describe how notebooks sort of fit into those three ring binder rings.) That's when Mr. Washington walked into the classroom, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

He looked so...official.

Thomas folded his hands like the good student he was and waited for the assignment to be told to him.

But, unfortunately, the other kids weren't good noodles.

One kid, and I'm not naming names, but his name was Charles Lee, crumbled up a piece of paper and nodded to his friends, (James Reynolds and George Eacker,) and glanced at Thomas.

James and George understood the meaning of Charles' glance and nodded, evil smirks appearing on their faces.

Without a thought of how it would affect Thomas, Charles chucked the crumpled up piece of paper at the back of Thomas' head.

Thomas felt a balled-up piece of something hit his head. He turned around to face Charles and his gang, who were laughing hysterically.

It did not feel good to Thomas to be on the other side of the teasing at all. He frowned. "What was that for..?"

Charles opened his mouth to answer, but Mr. Washington cut him off.

Why did Mr. Washington have to not notice something when Thomas needed him to the most?

"All right, class," Mr. Washington said in an official tone. "Today, we're going to be designing a rough draft of something that you would like to persuade others to believe. And no," Mr. Washington said, looking Thomas right in the eye, "why mac n cheese is the greatest food ever will not be permitted again."

Everyone in the debate class knew that Thomas had wrote that essay once, so they all started giggling.

Thomas blushed from embarrassment and looked down at his desk. Thomas noticed that on his desk sat a little crumb. So he stared at that until everyone, (including Mr. Washington,) stopped laughing.

Mr. Washington's expression suddenly turned serious, and the laughter immediately stopped. "All right, everyone. Get to work."

Thomas was relieved that the attention was finally off him. He began writing on the next empty page of his notebook, an idea for the essay coming to him.

As Thomas' pencil scratched along his paper, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, that Charles had raised his hand with a smirk. "Mr. Washington?" he asked with what Thomas could determine as a voice with ill intent in it. "Could I get some paper? My notebook doesn't have any left."

Mr. Washington nodded, taking a seat at his desk. "Yes. There's some on my desk," he said, patting a small pile of lined paper that was sitting on his desk.

"Thank you," Charles said with fake sweetness.

He started to walk to his desk. Since Thomas was sitting was on the way to Mr. Washington's desk, Charles subtly flicked Thomas in the back of the head, muttering, "What a cunt."

That "nickname" stirred a boiling rage inside of Thomas. He hated being called names. But he didn't have the courage to stand up to Charles, since he would probably be in more trouble with him if he did. So he swallowed his anger and continued writing, not saying a word.

Charles smirked and grabbed a paper, making his way back to his desk smugly.

The rest of the class went by with a few more paper balls being thrown at Thomas by Charles and his gang, and Thomas' rough draft getting finished. After the class he had, Thomas just wanted to get back to his dorm and hold his boyfriend.

So, Thomas was pretty relieved when the bell rang. He sighed and got his binder, walking out of the classroom as quickly as possible.

***

When Thomas was about halfway to his dorm, he heard a familiar voice taunt, "Where do you think you're going?"

Thomas gulped and turned around.

Yipee. Charles Lee. Just him, this time, though. James and George weren't there, for some reason.

"Uh...back to my dorm..?" Thomas squeaked nervously.

"I don't think so," Charles said, stepling towards Thomas menacingly. "You don't deserve a dorm." He grabbed Thomas' collar of his shirt and lifted him up. Like those cliche movies.

Thomas gulped. All he could manage to stammer out was, "Y-yes I do..."

Even though Thomas was about two feet taller than Charles, and about two times stronger, for some reason, he couldn't fight back. He didn't know why. But his body was just preventing him.

"No, you don't," Charles hissed. "Aren't you dating that Hamilton weeb? Sounds pretty undeserving to me."

"Yeah...and Alex isn't a weeb..," Thomas whispered, struggling in Charles' grip.

Charles slammed him against the wall, causing Thomas to squeak nervously. He punched Thomas right in the nose. "You both are weebs."

Thomas covered his nose with his hands as he felt warm liquid trail down it.

Getting bullied sucked, Thomas concluded. And he felt even more bad for how he treated Alex. Having to go through that every day just seemed like a nightmare.

Then, Charles punched Thomas in the stomach, still holding him against the wall by his collar.

"A-ah!" Thomas yelped in pain, clutching his stomach now. The blow was so strong that he felt vomit rising in his throat. But he swallowed it down, not wanting to give Charles the satisfaction.

Another blow. Then another. "You are nothing. Your boyfriend is nothing," Charles said, punching Thomas over and over.

Until Thomas had no choice but to beg for mercy.

"Please! Please, stop!" he pleaded, tears falling out of his bruised eyes. Blood was gushing out of a gash in his lip, his nose was also bleeding, and his legs were weak.

Charles studied the broken Thomas and smirked with satisfaction at his misery. "Okay. I think that's enough for today."

He released Thomas and left.

Thomas felt he couldn't even stand up. He leaned on the wall and tried to get his bearings. "Ow...ow...ow..," he mumbled.

After a bit, Thomas slowly walked back to his dorm, wondering if this would continue.

Hopefully not, Thomas thought.