T/W: Bullying/Harassment, Assault, Homophobic Slurs.

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A/N: I do not in any way support bullying, homophobia, or suicide jokes!

Also, yes, this is the same "Test" one shot that I put in my MercutioxReader book.
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*Horatio's POV*

Today had gone smoothly. My hoodie had been hiding the ACE wrap well, and I was glad. If anyone at school had seen it, I'd be dead. Well, more dead than I already was. I had hoped that I wouldn't be cornered again. I had no such luck.

I had barely left the main hallway before I felt a yank on my hood, effectively stopping me in my tracks. A hand fell onto my shoulder, gripping it in a not so friendly way.

"Hey, Horatio, let's take a walk, shall we?" The voice said. I nodded minutely.

The person led me down a smaller hallway, and then stopped. The lights were dimmer here, and every noise echoed through the nearly empty space.

Even though I'd only felt one set of hands, I knew that there were more people there.

"You're going to stay here with us, and we're gonna have a nice talk, freak. You got that?" The person told me.

I nodded again, and the hand let go. I knew better than to start walking away. This interaction was far from over. I anticipated the shove before it came, but it still managed to surprise me. My hands came in contact with the dusty floor, and my wrist throbbed. It was barely healed from the last time.

"Hey faggot, why don't you get up," another voice said, lifting me up by my bag and throwing me down again.

These sorts of actions had become mundane. There was hardly a week that went by when I wasn't pulled into a side room and beaten up before class.

Better me than anyone else, I suppose.

"You're nothing to me, and to everyone else. You'll be forgotten before you're even done writing your suicide note. Your boyfriend probably wants you gone too," Another person said.

Hamlet had been my boyfriend for just a couple of weeks, and I'd never been in a relationship before. We hadn't even kissed yet. Why bring him up?

Someone tore my backpack off my back, and I heard a clunk down the hall. My shoulder was rammed into a wall, and it smarted.

"What's wrong, faggot? Cat got your tongue?" a new voice taunted.

"I wonder if you kiss like a fag too! Let's find out, shall we?" The first voice asked. A face loomed from the darkness. It was Laertes, Ophelia's brother.

The pieces started to line up, forming a picture that was so ugly I didn't want to look.

Before I knew it, he had me backed into a wall and his hands were on my shoulders, pinning me in place.

I did not want my first kiss to be like this. This was something horrifying and completely twisted. Sure, homophobia wasn't anything new in this group of people, but I never thought they'd stoop this low.

Before someone could stop me, I screamed.

"Help! Hamlet, Ophelia, anyone, please! Help me!" I begged. Laertes's hands squeezed my shoulders roughly. It was suffocating.

"Be quiet before I make you be quiet!" He hissed, forcing a knee between my legs.

I did not want this. Not from him, and not like this. My stomach began to churn.

"Please, Laertes, stop. Don't do this. Just let me go," I pleaded. Tears rolled down my face. I felt like I was going to die. The worst part was that I wouldn't be able to stop Laertes from doing anything. I was completely at his mercy, and it made me sick.

"Shut up, you worthless piece of shit!" He yelled, forcing my shoulders further against the wall.

I was sobbing. Several hands secured me to the wall, ensuring I couldn't get away. I couldn't clear my eyes to get a look at who they were, but I hoped it was no one I knew.

"C'mon now, kiss me." Laertes demanded, bending down towards me. I shut my mouth as tightly as I was able and shook my head.

Laertes let go of one of my shoulders. Someone else's hand took his place, pressing down rigidly.

Laertes smirked, arm cocked. After a moment I saw stars. My cheek throbbed with every pulse of my heart. I was barely breathing, the pressure was really getting to me.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Laertes cooed.

He bent down, hair tickling my neck and kissed my earlobe. He nibbled on my ear, and I groaned involuntarily.

Laertes smiled against my ear, and bit down again, this time roughly. I winced, feeling blood trickle down my ear.

"Relax darling, we're just getting started."

I was anything but relaxed. My muscles were tense, my jaw clenched.

"Laertes, let me go," I deplored.

"Not until I've had my fun," he chuckled darkly.

Even though I knew it wasn't a good idea, I shouted again. Laertes clamped his free hand over my mouth. I flailed, looking for an escape. There was nothing. With all of the hands on me, I could barely move.

Laertes placed wet kisses along my collarbone and under my chin.

"Do something, you queer little fucker, come on," he said, punching me in the stomach. I doubled over in pain and he pushed me back up.

"Open your mouth," Laertes told me.

A spark of defiance flared through me. I shook my head.

"No? Well then, we'll do this the hard way."

He gripped my cheeks in his hand, forcing my lips to part a little. Another tear rolled down my cheek.

"You're nothing. You're just a useless whore who deserves to die," one of the others hissed in my ear.

I couldn't scream, couldn't cry. I wasn't able to make any noise at all.

Why me? What did I do to them?

Laertes kicked me again, and I whimpered in response. Before I could realize my mistake, his tongue was inside my mouth. I choked. Breathing was difficult, and it felt like my chest was being crushed under everyone's hands.

My stomach churned, and bile rose in my throat. I just wanted to go home.

This was disgusting. I hated him, and I hated myself.

I heard the squeak of shoes on the tile, and cracked an eye open. A figure stood at the end of the hallway, staring at my backpack. He looked up and saw me.

"Get the fuck off of him!" He yelled, sprinting towards us.

Laertes was thrown off of me, and I sobbed in relief. I was hyperventilating, and I could barely breathe.

Someone was shouting, and there was clattering in the halls as several people came dashing towards us. The hands were removed from my body, and I fell down the wall, trembling.

I heard several pairs of feet shuffle down the hall, followed by a pair of heels clicking purposefully.

"Laertes, to the front office, now!" I heard the voice of the principal, which surprised me. He never got involved in these sorts of things. Another pair of feet thundered down the passageway.

I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. Through my fingers I saw a figure approach me, crouching.

"Hamlet, oh my god! I'm so sorry," I whimpered, voice broken.

"Tell me it's over," I cried, hoping he'd assure that everything was going to be fine from here on out.

"It's done, 'Tio. It won't ever happen again, I promise." Hamlet soothed, gently encircling my wrists with his hands.

After events like these, I rarely allowed people to touch me. Hamlet, however, was my exception. His hands brought me a sense of calm. In a way, they kept me grounded.

After a long moment, I stood. Hesitantly, Hamlet followed.

The principal had returned, and was standing a few feet away.

"Horatio, Hamlet, we're going to need you in the office as well," he said.

"You are not in trouble. I saw what happened back there. Believe me, it was not your fault," he informed us, handing Hamlet a backpack.

My backpack. It was covered in dust, and one of the shoulder straps had been ripped off.

"Thank you sir," Hamlet said, using the remaining strap to shoulder my bag.

The principal lead us down the hall.

After a brief meeting, we were notified that all of the boys involved would be expelled. The vice principal, Mrs. Gray told us that there was a very strict anti bullying policy set in place, and that this had been going on for quite some time, thought this the only appropriate action to take.

(Time-skip to a few weeks later)

My clock read 2:14 AM. I couldn't sleep. I hadn't slept much since that day. The thoughts of what may have happened if Hamlet didn't show up filled my head. I could still feel Laertes's lips on my neck, his hands on my face.

Each night I woke up screaming, pushing away invisible hands and choking on phantom tongues.

I reached for my phone, and clicked on the all too familiar icon.

"Hamlet. Please, y-you. Can you j-just please come here. It's, I-I'm not sleeping. If you can, please. I need y-you here with me." I choked out. My breaths were shaky and close to hyperventilation.

"Of course, yeah. I'll be there."

"T-thanks. That means, this, it's a lot to me," I said, not wanting to hang up. There was a long pause, and the line was silent. I knew he hadn't hung up, he's not the type.

I was still feeling the panic. It was a bright, lightning-fast feeling that tingled my chest and crushed my resolve.

"I'm almost there, just hold on a second," Hamlet said.

I heard an engine in the driveway and I curled up tightly into a ball.

A key slid into the lock on the front door.

And then he was there.

"Hey, 'Tio, it's me. It'll be okay, you're safe with me," Hamlet said, sliding over towards me and slipping onto the bed.

He pulled me onto his lap, my back leaned against his chest, and I cried.

"It's okay, you're safe here. I love you, okay? I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere," Hamlet soothed, running a gentle hand through my hair.

The memories wouldn't go away.

"Open your mouth, bitch," Laertes yelled in my head.

"No? Well then, we'll do this the hard way, then."

"Relax darling, we're just getting started."

"Hamlet, y-you saved me. I could ha-If you hadn't gotten there, I-I don't know what w-would have happened," I whispered, crying.

"Nothing would have happened, Silver-tongue. I've always got you," Hamlet consoled.

I was trembling again.

"I'm so sorry, h-he stole my first kiss. I was s-saving it. I wanted you to have it!" I bawled, curling into Hamlet's chest.

"I d-didn't mean to lose it," I sobbed.

"Baby, no. No no no. You didn't lose it, it got stolen, and I'm so sorry that happened before I could get to you. Just know that I'll always come save you, okay? You got that?" Hamlet said, kissing my head.

I nodded, tears pricking my eyes.

"He didn't take our first kiss you know," Hamlet mused.

Huh?

"What? How?" I asked, memories cast aside for a moment.

"Well, back in first grade, this little punk stole my swing and said he wanted to be my friend. I told him he had to do whatever I said, you know, because he took my swing. And I told him to kiss me," Hamlet said, staring down at me.

"Oh my god, that was me! I remember that, we did kiss!" I said, the memory surfacing from the depths of my mind.

"Ham, I want you to know, I don't think I-I'm ready for our first real kiss yet. Not yet, at least," I rushed, burying my face in his shoulder.

"Silvertongue, I understand, don't worry! I'm not trying to pressure you into kissing me, no way!" Hamlet said.

I relaxed, and turned around. Before he could say anything, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and settled back in.

After a moment, Hamlet came to, and I smiled.

"Maybe soon," I whispered. I'm sure Hamlet heard me, but he did not respond.

There, in Hamlet's arms, I felt safer than I did in months. I knew he'd always be there to save me, no matter what.

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A/N: Oh man, that was a long one. I consider this my sample chapter. If people like this stuff, I'll make a whole book for it.

Tell me what you think!

Love you humans, until next time!