Blurring The Lines {20}
I sat in the library, headphones in. I had a book on my lap, but I'd given up when I couldn't focus on the paragraphs anymore.
"If you ever feel alone then you should know how hard it is to feel like you belong. Everyday feels like a war that can't be won, just know that you're not the only one."
The music echoed around my head. I'd stopped by my room to grab my laptop, and put Jin's CD in it. I'd been listening to the songs loop through for hours, trying to make some sense of Jin.
But he'd crafted this me. It pissed me off and choked me up all at the same time. I hadn't received a gift like this in years, not since my best friend made me a slideshow of us to some music for Christmas when we were younger.
I checked the time and pulled my headphones out. I paused the music and shut my laptop, putting it in my bag and getting up.
I limped my way out of the library and back down to the dorm building. After flashing my I.D. to the Blue on duty, I made my way to my room.
"You're out late again," Jordan said, looking up at me as I entered. He was lying in his bed, his lamp on and a textbook propped on his knees.
"Ground me for it. Or just pour milk down my throat," I said, setting my bag down and grabbing my pajamas out of my closet.
"Jin needs to learn his place," Jordan said firmly. "He causes too much trouble around the Academy. He rallies those Maroons. If we take him out, their group will fall apart."
"I really, really, really don't give a shit," I said, changing into my pajamas. "If you want to torment people and be an abuser, that's your inner struggle to deal with, not mine."
Jordan ignored me and turned the page of his textbook. I crawled into bed and yanked the covers over my head, rolling to face the wall. It was no use; Jordan would never admit that what he was doing was wrong. Mr. Constance kept telling him he was entitled to that behavior against the Maroons.
I closed my eyes, wondering how Jin was doing. God, I hope he gave them hell for what they'd done to him today.
***
My mood was bad as Jordan insisted on walking to class with me in the morning. He rambled on and on about some assignment we had due next week and how we could work on it together.
"I'm in the Peer Program. I'll work on it there. Do it yourself," I snapped at last. "It's too early in the morning. Will you just shut up already?"
Jordan didn't look offended, though. "So the social part of the Peer Program isn't going well, huh? You'll never get out if you don't make friends."
"My friend options are delinquent kids or abusive kids. I'm not too thrilled," I said dryly, entering Mr. Townsend's room. "For the love of my sanity, leave me the fuck alone already."
Jordan laughed cheerfully and went to go talk to his friends. But relief didn't last very long as Mr. Townsend came over to me.
"What? What do you want? Can I have one quiet morning?" I said in frustration.
"Mr. Kean asked me to tell you that there won't be a Peer Program meeting after classes today," he said, unbothered by my bad mood.
"Good, great, fantastic. Now leave me alone," I said.
Mr. Townsend shrugged and went back up to the front of the room. He started up his lesson a minute later, and I tuned him out in favor of scribbling in the back of my notebook.
I was curious about why Mr. Kean was cancelling the Peer Program meeting today, but figured it probably had something to do with what happened to Jin yesterday. Maybe Lev had tried to tell someone what the Blues had done. Or maybe they'd found Jin sick and didn't want anyone to find out that the Blues were involved.
The day passed surprisingly quiet. The Blues seemed content despite their anger yesterday.
But lunch is where I realized something was wrong.
It was too quiet. The Maroons kept to themselves, and I didn't spot Jin or any of his group anywhere. I even looked for Isaac, but I didn't spot him anywhere. The Blues looked smug, shooting looks at the Maroons. Something was going on, and it was giving me a bad feeling.
When lunch ended, I took the elevator down and went to my next class. But before I could even take my seat, the teacher caught up to me.
"Kai, Headmaster Constance would like a word with you. He said to make sure you know that you're not in any trouble." I stared, that bad feeling growing.
But I was too tired to argue, so I just left the room and started towards the building Mr. Constance was in. I reached the building and went up to the secretary.
"Headmaster Constance's office," I said.
She glanced at my leg and pointed at the elevator on the other side of the hall. "Next floor, go the hallway on the right and down to the last room. His name will be on it."
I limped to the elevator and took it up, following her directions. There was a waiting area, and a set of doors in front of it with "George Constance" on them.
I figured I should probably knock, but he'd interrupted my day so I'd be damned if I wasn't going to interrupt his too. I flung the doors open and let myself into the office.
I immediately regretted it as I looked at the man sitting on the other side of the desk. He was old, probably late fifties, but there was such an air of power around him that I hesitated. He smiled, a cold, calculating smile.
"Kai Humphrey?" he said, and I nodded. "Please, take a seat."
I shut the door and sat down in the chair across from his desk. He had a stack of files off to the side of his desk, and I was assuming the one in front of him was mine.
"I'm Headmaster Constance," he said. "I know my son, Mr. Constance, had spoken with you before."
"Yea. He's kind of an ass," I said, and my eyes widened at my own words. God, could I stop being salty long enough to survive this encounter?
But the smile stayed on Headmaster Constance's face. "I've spoken with Mr. Constance, and he informed me that you've been helping the Blue students keep an eye on a troublesome group of Maroons led by Jin Amano."
"I got tossed into the Peer Program with Jin and his friends," I said. "I just tell my roommate if they plan to meet anywhere."
"They broke into Mr. Townsend's room and targeted several students, including you. We're not sure if they plan to make any more movements against the targeted students, but we do believe they hacked into Mr. Townsend's private emails," Constance said. "Tell me, did they let anything slip about this plan? Anything at all?"
I shook my head. "No. They're not stupid. They clearly figured out I was the one passing along information to the Blues."
Headmaster Constance nodded slowly. "Yes, we assumed that's why they marked your desk. Have they attempted to harm you or verbally attack you in any way?"
"They only people who have attacked me have been Blues," I said, glaring at him. "The Blues here act like a bunch of damn preschoolers when they don't get their way. This place is dangerous, and your kid is only making it worse. You should've left the school to the auburn kid."
"Leon," he said. "Yes, I allowed Leon to oversee the Peer Program when Mr. Kean couldn't. But this isn't about my sons. This is about Jin and his friends. I've dealt with two similar groups to his in the past, and I've learned quite a few ways to disband them since then. I've kept the peace on this campus for many years, Kai. I'd hate to see it fall apart now."
"Peace?" I barked a laugh. "What the hell is peaceful about any of it? Did you know the Blues forced Jin, lactose intolerant Jin, to drink milk yesterday? All because they were mad he was getting sent to you instead of your son. That's the kind of campus you're commanding." My anger was starting to boil again as I pictured what they'd done to Jin yesterday. "You overlook the violence towards the Maroons, and your son encourages it. It's disgusting. I'm not helping you with shit. You want to keep the peace on this campus? You're targeting the wrong color."
I stood up, gripping my cane far too tightly. Headmaster Constance watched me, but made no moves to stop me. He looked calm and thoughtful.
"Tell me something before you storm out of here," he said. "When Leon oversaw the Peer Program, how did it go?"
"It went great. It was the only time we got through the damn thing without anyone getting hit or yelled at. He actually helped everyone learn, and no one was afraid to ask him anything. Congratulations, you managed to raise one son not to be a completely abusive shithead," I said and left the room.
I took the elevator down and hurried out of the building. My temper was flaring, ready to lash out at anyone.
I started down the path, having no plans to return to class today. I'd just pick a fight with everyone and get myself in more trouble.
Fuck, did I really just tell the headmaster of an abusive Academy that his son was a shithead? Did I really just tell him off? Way to go Kai, you really know how to keep a low profile and get through the year with no trouble.
I made my way to the library, taking the elevator down and walking the hallways to the quiet room I liked to hideout in. I pushed the door open and let myself in.
But I paused, my eyes landing on Jin. He sat in his usual seat, but his skin was deathly pale, his hands trembling as he held his phone. His headphones were on, and I could faintly hear the music drifting out of them. His face was so impassive it was almost alarming. It looked like he'd repressed any possible feelings.
I went over and placed a hand on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise and tilted his head to look up at me. He reached up and pulled his headphones off, dropping them into his bag.
"Don't you have class?" he said.
"Don't you?" I countered.
"I'm taking a sick day," he said.
"Well, you definitely look sick," I said.
"That happens when you stay up all night dying thanks to some milk," he said. "They didn't even have the decency to poison me with chocolate milk."
"You were sent to Headmaster Constance's office," I said.
"We all were," he said. "Even Isaac got dragged down." Jin tipped back in his chair a bit. "That's why the Peer Program was cancelled. Headmaster Constance is good at emotional manipulation. He did his research on us, and he tore their minds apart piece by agonizing piece."
"Their minds," I echoed. "Just theirs?"
"Just theirs." He tipped the brim of his hat up. "His words don't bother me."
"That's some bullshit," I said.
"What did he want with you?" he asked, changing the course of the conversation.
"He wanted to know what I knew. He wanted to know how involved I was," I said. "I told him off. He's a piece of shit. Like father, like son."
"Sons can be the opposite of their fathers," Jin said. "Look at Leon Constance."
"What did he hit you with?" I said.
"My past. It's all he has to hit me with. He tried to hit me with my group but, well, that doesn't work. It's hard to threaten someone when they just don't care. He can do what he wants to my group. That's their burden to live with," he said.
I didn't remember my hand moving, but I suddenly had a fistful of Jin's vest. I yanked him so that he was looking into my eyes.
"Stop pretending you don't care," I snapped. "You're not fooling me. You're not fooling them. Maybe you're fooling the rest of the Academy, but don't treat us like we can't see through that bullshit act of yours. You care, Jin. You care."
He looked down at my hand knotted into his vest. "Snow and fire."
"What?" I said.
He looked up at me again. "When I was a little boy, my mom told me I had a soul as pure and soft as snow. When I got older, she told me I had a fire in me that melted it away."
"Pure as snow," I mumbled, looking at the white hair peeking out of his hat.
He gripped my wrist. "You have a fire in you, too. Don't let it melt away the snow."
"What happened to you?" I asked quietly.
He smiled for the first time I'd met him, and I nearly recoiled away from how hollow it was. I reached out, gently tugging his shirt down to reveal his scar.
"Jin," I said. "What happened to you?"
"I have this theory that every group of children has that one kid that doesn't fit in for whatever reason. They're not necessarily weird or ugly or annoying or repulsive in any way. They could be cute and sweet, but for some reason, they become the outcast," he said, guiding my hand away from his vest and tracing my fingers over his scar. "That was me. I was outgoing and friendly and the one adults couldn't take their eyes off of, but I never found a single friend."
He pressed my hand so it was flat against his collarbone, and I could feel the raised lump of skin that formed his scar.
"It was childish things at first. They'd call me names and steal my toys and rub it in my face that I wasn't invited to their birthday parties. They'd show up to mine because their parents made them, and they'd push me in the pool and spit on my cake. I was always picked last in gym, and I sat alone at lunch and recess. No one ever wanted to be my partner in class, and no one ever invited me to play with them," he said.
"Then you got older," I said, my palm pressing harder against his skin. He cupped his hand over mine and nodded.
"Then I got older," he said, voice empty. The smile had disappeared from his face and he was impassive again. "It turned really physical when I was 12. We were on a sports team together, and me and a small group of boys would walk to practice afterschool together because their parents made them bring me along. Well, we always stopped at one of the boy's houses along the way to change. I was texting my mom what time to get me from practice, and they took my phone. They hit me in the face with it and then two of them just beat me in the kitchen while the others cheered them on."
"Did you tell anyone?" I said, hating the anger swirling in me again. Just how long had he been abused for?
"I told my dad. He said he'd talk to their parents, but he never did," Jin said. "It just got worse and worse. I quit sports. It didn't matter. They hunted me, haunted me, tortured me. They'd catch me outside of school and beat me. They spread rumors about me. Kids in school avoided me or joined in. My locker was always broken into, my stuff was always stolen, my desk always had things like 'faggot' written on it. If I cried, they'd only beat me harder. If I told anyone, they'd come after me worse than ever."
"Your parents just let it happen?" I asked.
"No. My mom went down to the school and threatened to take legal action if I came home injured one more time. She said it was their responsibility to keep me safe when I was there. They kept the beatings at bay for about a month before it started up again. Kids were relentless, mocking me, mocking my mom, mocking my dad. My mom started picking me up from school, but the kids in my neighborhood would wait to catch me alone if I went for a walk."
He pulled a straw out of his bag and put it in his mouth. He pushed it to the corner of his mouth, not looking at me now.
"I was 13 when I started drinking and smoking. My dad kept a heavy stash of vodka in the basement, and I'd steal from the very back of the cabinet so he wouldn't notice. My aunt was a heavy smoker, and I stole packs from her," he said. "The worse the beatings got, the more I drank. My parents found out not long after I started. My dad locked off his liquor stash, but I'd already stolen a lot. It just got worse and worse." He pulled the straw out of his mouth, holding it between his fingers. "They didn't know where I hid the alcohol or the cigarettes. They didn't know where I got it all from. They couldn't stop me."
He closed his fingers lightly around my hand. I nodded at him to go on.
"I'd get suspended from school for showing up drunk. I kept vodka in my water bottles. I didn't want to feel anymore, so I drank away whatever I couldn't repress. It was just easier not to care. I stopped caring about what they said to me. I let them destroy my things. I let them shit talk my family. I let them beat me. If it bothered me, I'd just take another shot. They called me the dark emo freak, so I dyed my hair to shut them up. My hair didn't mean anything to me anymore." He looked down at our hands. "I got drunk enough to try to fight back once. I slammed a bottle against the wall and came at them with the broken end. I was so drunk, they got it from me easily and cut me instead. I drank until it didn't hurt anymore."
"And they sent you here," I said.
"My dad couldn't take it anymore. I disgusted him. I shamed him. I wasn't his fucking son. My school was threatening to expel me if I kept pulling this drunk shit. So my mom researched places to get me help, and they sent me here when I was 15. I quit smoking, but I snuck alcohol on campus. They caught me and told my parents. My dad, he asked me if I even gave a shit about getting better, if I gave a shit about myself. I didn't. I drank away my summer. I quit drinking when I was 16."
I started to pull my hand away, but he gripped it tighter, holding it in place. He looked up at me.
"I don't want your sympathy," he said. "I want your story."
I looked down at my leg, feeling that ugly anger coming to me. "I went for a bike ride. I told my mom I was coming home, and I started off down the road. I was, I don't know, maybe two miles away from my house? That's when I heard tires squealing, and by the time I'd started to look over my shoulder, the car hit me."
I swallowed, hard. My breathing was hitching as the memory came back to me, but Jin squeezed my hand like he could keep me tethered to the present.
"The way I landed..." I gripped a handful of my slacks with my free hand. "My bike pinned my leg down, and the tire of the car was on top of both my bike and my leg." My leg flared in a memory of that agony. "I screamed and screamed and screamed. I screamed until I passed out and the pain woke me up screaming again. They got the car and the bike off of me and rushed me to the hospital. I had several surgeries on my leg to save it." I felt the bitter tone rising in me. "I don't call this saving it. I wish they'd just amputated it. But they saved it just enough to avoid that outcome."
Jin was silent, but his eyes told me he knew there was more to the story. So I dug my fingers into his skin and forced myself to go on.
"The driver was texting and when he looked up, he saw a cat in the road. He swerved hard to avoid it, but he didn't notice me until it was too late," I said. "And once he hit me, he got out of the car and panicked. He didn't know what to do. He thought backing the car off my leg would only hurt it more. So he just called 911 and screamed for help. I ended up spending a long time in the hospital recovering. I suffered physical therapy just to learn how to walk again. I had a concussion and they told me my helmet was the only thing that saved me from brain damage. My leg was ruined, my other leg was broken, my arm was broken, and I had two cracked ribs. My shoulder was dislocated, and I was covered in cuts and bruises."
He looked at my pant leg and I tugged it up so he could see the scars. He traced his fingers over them, his touch so light I barely felt it.
"I only managed to catch up on school because I spent so much time in the hospital that schoolwork became a way to distract myself," I said. "I took online classes and a summer school program. I didn't care about school anymore though. I drove away everyone." My vision blurred, the angry tears creeping up as suddenly as they always did. "I had a future, and some fucking asshole turned me from a teenager to a tragedy. My parents took him to court and he ended up paying most of my medical bills."
Jin stood up, letting my pant leg fall back to hide my scars. He reached out and brushed a tear from my cheek.
"We're all tragedies," he said.
My hand slid up his collarbone and cupped the back of his neck. I pulled him close and kissed him. His hands shook harder than before as he put them on my back, gripping my vest as he kissed me back.
I don't know when we had slipped into this. The feelings had been so slow and so gradual I'd hardly even noticed my attraction to Jin until he gave me that CD. But that CD, it meant something. It meant Jin cared, too.
We were scarred, broken, traumatized. We'd pushed people away because it hurt too much to be close. We coped with things that burned us from the inside out. Jin knew what it was like to have an anger that consumed you until you were empty. He knew what it was like to be helpless, hopeless, desperate. He understood the ugly part of life that drove both of us.
But despite all that darkness, despite all that talk of not caring, Jin kissed me with the passion of a man who was still burning. His fire hadn't gone out, and maybe that wasn't a bad thing.
Our breathing hitched as we kissed, pulling each other closer. Jin seemed uncertain and unsteady, but he drew my body against his. I couldn't tell whose heartbeat was crashing against my chest anymore as Blue and Maroon pressed together, blurring the lines between us.
He pulled away first, pressing his forehead against mine as he caught his breath. His eyes were on my lips again, but he dragged his gaze up to mine.
"I still don't care," he said, impassive despite the heavy rise and fall of his chest.
I pressed my hand against his chest, feeling his heart beating away rapidly beneath my palm. "Don't lie to me, you asshole. Or else I'll tell everyone your hair is just a symbolism for pure snow."
"You're going to be the next target," he said, but kissed me again.
This thing between us was uncharted and dangerous. We were broken pieces tentatively trying to come together to form a new picture, but our edges were sharp and we'd have to take it slow if we didn't want more scars.
The Blues would be a problem, too. But for right now, for the first time since I'd lost my leg to that accident, things felt like maybe they could be okay.
So I pushed aside those thoughts as a problem to worry about later. For now, we were alone in the library, and as we kissed, we were taking the first step away from the destructive paths we'd been walking down for so long.
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