[ A WHILE AGO ]
The whole class was making its way toward the cafeteria, and the room was alive with a buzz of excitement. Voices overlapped as everyone talked, laughed, and joked freely. The air seemed charged with a kind of warm chaos—the kind that makes a place feel alive, familiar, and welcoming all at once. Plates clattered, chairs scraped lightly against the floor, and the soft murmur of conversations created a rhythm that felt almost musical.
Delan, carefully gathering his books, rose from his chair. Most of his classmates had already disappeared down the corridor toward the cafeteria. He glanced to his left, then toward the window, and there, at the far end of the classroom near the sunlight streaming in, sat someone who seemed completely detached from the noise around him.
The person was focused, leaning over his assignment, as if the world outside—laughter, movement, even lunch—did not exist. Delan found himself staring, unable to look away. There was something calm, almost striking, about the way he worked: carefree, absorbed, untouched by the lively chaos surrounding him.
"Is he not going to the cafeteria?" Delan wondered quietly to himself. The thought lingered, turning over in his mind like a gentle whisper.
He continued watching, thinking that maybe he should go over, offer a small gesture—a question, a smile, an invitation to eat together. After all, he was new here. He couldn't possibly know the people, the routines, or the subtle rhythm of this place yet. A little guidance, a small act of kindness, could help him feel more at home.
Delan felt a quiet sense of responsibility swell inside him, as if he needed to bridge that gap for the newcomer, to make him feel that he wasn't alone in this bustling, unfamiliar world.
Suddenly, the person lifted his head and looked straight at Delan. For a brief, fleeting moment, their eyes met—and Delan flinched. His heart skipped a beat. It wasn't just anyone. It was Silas.
As soon as Silas's gaze fell on him, his cold eyes looked down rudely, sending a clear, unspoken message: Stop staring. Stop trying to talk to me.
Delan understood immediately. Silas had no interest in talking to him, no desire to be friendly. But Delan… Delan had wanted to. There was something about Silas that made him feel unique, special, unlike anyone else. His mind had already marked Silas as someone extraordinary, someone he wished to get close to.
Now, with Silas's indifference laid bare, Delan felt a sharp, quiet sting in his chest. He turned and began moving toward the door, leaving the classroom behind.
He walked down the hallway toward the cafeteria, lost in his own thoughts, when suddenly someone's arm snaked around his shoulders, pulling him close in a friendly, almost playful gesture. Delan jumped slightly, startled by the unexpected familiarity. Friendships like this were rare for him at school; there weren't many people who could put an arm around him like that.
He looked up—and there was Harrison. The sight of Harrison's face made Delan feel a chill run down his spine. When Harrison appeared, it usually meant something was off, that nothing would go as planned. Delan's chest tightened with that familiar, uneasy sensation.
Harrison's face, however, was bright with a mischievous, friendly smile, completely at odds with the worry and tension etched into Delan's features.
"I saw it this morning," Harrison said casually, his tone light as he gestured, "our juice… it was here, but not on the table. It had fallen to the floor instead."
Delan's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and dread bubbling inside him. Even in such a small, simple moment, the subtle tension between them was palpable: Harrison's casual friendliness, Delan's underlying unease. The cafeteria still awaited, but now the hallway seemed charged with quiet anticipation.
Delan flinched. He had carefully placed the juice bottles on the table with his own hands—how could anyone have the audacity to knock them over? Everyone in the class knew that Fresh 'n' Mout juice was only consumed by Harrison and Asher. Who would even think of throwing it on the floor?
"But… I had placed them properly with my own hands," Delan said hesitantly, his voice uncertain, tinged with disbelief.
Harrison's cheerful tone shifted, subtly darkening, sending a faint warning toward Delan. "Hey, I trust you," he said, his words light, almost teasing, "so how could anyone dare to knock them over, huh?"
Delan nodded, swallowing hard. "Y-Yeah…"
Harrison tilted his head slightly, the playful grin on his face suddenly giving way to a mischievous glint. "Hmm… I think this must be the work of that new student. No one else could pull something like this off, I'm telling you."
He leaned in just slightly, his expression now carefully innocent, almost childlike, which made him look utterly harmless—yet there was something in his eyes, a spark, that made Delan's stomach twist. Delan stared into Harrison's eyes and couldn't help but sink into a deep, unsettling thought: how could someone who seemed capable of cruelty, someone who could be ruthless, carry such an innocent, almost angelic face?
Harrison's voice softened, almost contemplative, "Being near him… it gives me a strange feeling. That boy… there's something not right about him. Weird. Looking at him makes me… I don't know… makes me want to mess up his perfect little face, Delan."
Delan's heart skipped a beat, a shiver running down his spine at the dangerous duality in Harrison—the innocent exterior masking something unpredictable, something sharp.
"Y-Yeah," Delan whispered again, unsure if he was agreeing or merely stunned into silence.
"Now, since I can't do anything about it myself because of Asher… you'll do it for me, Delan."
"I… w-what? I… I don't understand," Delan stammered, confusion and unease creeping into his voice.
Without another word, Harrison grabbed him firmly and dragged him down the hallway toward the boys' restroom. The moment they stepped inside, Harrison slammed Delan's back against the cold, hard wall. A sharp pain shot through Delan's spine, making him gasp for a fraction of a second.
"I want you to go to the cafeteria… and, by any means, spill food on him," Harrison's voice cut sharply, "so that this bastard is humiliated in front of everyone."
The innocent, playful expression that had once been Harrison's trademark vanished in an instant. In its place was a mask of coldness, ruthlessness, and a burning desire for revenge. Delan felt a shiver run down his spine, his hair standing on end. Fear and confusion tangled inside him; he didn't know what to do or say.
"W-what?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
Hearing Delan's hesitant reply, Harrison thrust his hand forward with sudden force. Delan felt as if Harrison might strike him at any moment. His body froze, every nerve on high alert, and he squeezed his eyes shut, heart hammering in his chest.
Harrison's gaze sharpened as he saw Delan's terrified face. A flicker of irritation crossed Harrison's eyes. With a sudden, violent motion, he slammed his hand against Delan's back and pushed him hard against the wall. The impact echoed through the restroom. Delan flinched instinctively, his eyes still tightly closed, helpless and trembling.
"No what. You'll do exactly what I said. Understood?" Harrison's voice was cold, commanding, leaving no room for argument.
Delan nodded slowly, swallowing hard, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
"Good boy. Well done, don't force me so much that I have to raise my hand.," Harrison said, his voice softening just a fraction—but there was still a dangerous edge lurking beneath.
When Delan cautiously opened his eyes, he saw Harrison standing before him, casually straightening his uniform, as if nothing terrifying had just happened. But the chill of fear, the memory of the violence, lingered heavily in the air.
Clack!
The restroom door swung open. Delan's eyes instinctively followed it, and a few students stepped inside.
"We heard you were looking for us, Harrison," one of them said casually.
Harrison stepped forward, walking toward them with that same confident, almost dangerous ease. Delan stood frozen at the doorway, his mind racing.
What havoc are these Harrisons trying to wreak?
he wondered, a tight knot of anxiety forming in his stomach.
Even as the students entered, a cold, uneasy feeling settled over Delan. Something about their presence—something about the situation—felt deeply wrong. He could sense that whatever was about to happen would not be good.
"What kind of task required you to call us here?" one of the students asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"It's very important," Harrison said smoothly, a sharp edge beneath the calm tone. "
"Someone needs to be taught a very big lesson."
"Oh? So it's like that," another replied, trying to sound casual, but his eyes flicked toward Delan. "Then it must be a really serious and difficult job."
"For now,"
Harrison continued, his gaze flicking coldly toward Delan, "you handle this one here. Make sure he carries out the task I've given properly because…" He paused, his tone dropping into a deadly seriousness as he turned to face Delan fully.
"…I don't think he's capable of doing it right."
With that, Harrison strode out, leaving Delan alone in the restroom.
The atmosphere inside the restroom was heavy, oppressive. Even with the other students present, a tense silence filled the space, broken only by the occasional shuffle of feet. Delan stepped forward cautiously, his body tense, wanting nothing more than to get out of this suffocating place.
He was almost at the inner doorway when a sudden pressure landed on his shoulder. The same student who had spoken so casually to Harrison before now placed a firm hand on Delan's shoulder, pushing him hard and forcing him to feel a clear, unspoken warning.
"Ahhh!" Delan gasped, stumbling slightly from the force.
"Where do you think you're going, boy?" the voice hissed, cold and authoritative.
Delan froze, his heart hammering, every nerve on high alert. There was no escaping the growing sense of danger—it was as if the very air inside the restroom had thickened, pressing down on him from all sides.
Delan, already reeling from the pain in his back, now felt a fresh, sharp pang in his shoulder. These people were determined to inflict more suffering on him, and he had no way to defend himself.
"Ah! Ahhh! Let go!" he cried out, struggling against the hand that pressed down mercilessly on his shoulder.
"You're so rude," the student sneered, his tone sharp and mocking. "Harrison had us catch you for a reason—and we've been trying to bring you onto the right path."
The right path? Delan thought, disbelief and panic flooding through him. Are these people insane?
He fought against the grip, straining with all his strength to push the hand off his shoulder, but it was impossible. The difference in their physical power was overwhelming—Delan's attempts barely made a dent against the firm, unyielding force.
"This boy, huh…" the person muttered under his breath, a cold smirk spreading across his lips.
"…Today, we'll teach you…"
Before Delan could react, he was grabbed violently by the collar and slammed onto the floor. The impact rattled through his entire body, pain shooting along his spine and shoulders as he hit the hard surface with a sickening thud.
"—how to behave with your elders!" the voice spat, sharp and relentless, filled with a cruel authority.
Delan lay there for a moment, stunned and gasping for breath, the weight of fear and helplessness pressing down on him. His entire body throbbed in pain, and his mind spun with confusion, anger, and sheer terror—all at once.
To Be Continued.....