Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

CRY OUT ♪

Pain.

It flared like a pulse, sharp and unforgiving, as Thua’s nails bit into the flesh of his palm. He tightened his grip, welcoming the sting as a distraction, his thin fingers trembling with the pressure. He knew the aftermath too well—raw red welts, sometimes jagged crescents where the skin broke open. Blood would crust over eventually, and he’d hide his hands in his pockets to avoid questions. But for now, it was the only thing that worked. The only thing that helped him stay present, even as everything else unraveled around him.

Everything. Including him.

“Why didn’t you come yesterday, Thua?”

The voice came like a snake’s hiss, low and mocking, brushing past his ear before the speaker leaned in closer. Hot, sour breath fanned over Thua’s cheek as fingers gripped his chin, forcing his gaze upward. Tim’s face loomed inches from his, a twisted smirk curling across his lips, the kind that reeked of power, of control.

“I missed you,” Tim added, his voice dripping with derision.

Thua’s stomach churned. He loathed how Tim said his name, how he made it sound so small, so powerless. He wanted to pull away, to spit some clever retort that would shatter Tim’s smug facade, but he couldn’t. His body betrayed him as it always did—frozen, locked in place, his mind screaming for escape while his limbs refused to move.

“What’s the matter? Skipping school with your little boyfriend?”

The jab struck deep, though Thua knew it was a guess. If Tim ever caught wind of how pitifully one-sided Thua’s love life really was, he’d never let it go. The thought almost made him laugh—a bitter, hollow sound that stayed trapped in his throat. It wasn’t even funny anymore, this endless humiliation.

Thua didn’t answer. He didn’t look up. His eyes remained fixed on the cracked asphalt beneath their feet, wishing desperately for the moment to end. Silence was his only weapon, his only shield, even if it never seemed to work.

“Look at me,” Tim said, his voice sharp with annoyance.

Thua didn’t move. He wouldn’t.

“Look at me,” Tim repeated, louder this time, the impatience rising like a tide.

Thua’s hands began to tremble, and not from the pressure he’d inflicted on himself earlier. He could feel his pulse quickening, his breath growing shallow. His wristwatch caught his eye—it was late. Too late. He should’ve been back in class by now, fulfilling his duties as head of the class. If he stayed there any longer, the professors would call his mother. Again.

“I said look at me, shithead!”

The shout was sudden, deafening, and punctuated by a fist slamming into the wall beside Thua’s face. The sound reverberated in his skull, making him flinch. He took a step back, only to feel the cold, rough surface of the brick wall pressing against his back. There was nowhere left to go.

Tim’s face twisted into something uglier, his eyes narrowing into slits as he snarled, “Fucking faggot. I said, look me in the eye!”

The word hit like a slap. It always did. No matter how many times Thua heard it—whispered behind his back or hurled like a weapon—it never stopped cutting deep. A sickness churned in his gut, spreading upward until his chest ached.

Then came the grip.

Tim’s hand shot out, fingers closing around Thua’s neck in a vice-like hold. Thua gasped, instinctively clawing at the larger boy’s wrist, but it was no use. Tim’s strength dwarfed his, and the pressure only grew worse. He was choking.

The wall pressed harder against him, the chill of the bricks seeping through his uniform. His feet barely touched the ground as Tim lifted him, his smirk widening with cruel satisfaction.

“Finally,” Tim sneered. “Now you’re not so brave anymore, huh?”

Thua’s vision blurred as he struggled for air, his hands clawing desperately. Panic clawed at him like a wild animal, tearing through his chest. For the first time, it wasn’t just words. For the first time, Tim had crossed a line.

He wasn’t used to this. Not the violence. The threats, the insults, the slurs—those were part of his daily life. But this? This was new. This was worse.

He tried to block out the pain, the humiliation, the reality of his situation. He hoped that the prefects had already checked the area they were and no one would find them. He could not have survived such humiliation.

Kan checked the closet one last time. Satisfied that everything was in its place, he headed toward the exit leading to the final area on his checklist. Before he could get there, however, his phone buzzed in his trouser pocket. He retrieved it to find a new message from Jeans, one of the other prefects, informing him that he would take care of inspecting the park behind the school—the last area Kan needed to check.

This wasn’t the first time. For months now, Jeans had preempted Kan from checking that specific area. Initially, Kan welcomed the reprieve; one less place to inspect meant more time to rest before classes. But as the pattern persisted, curiosity gnawed at him. Jeans would notify him every morning around the same time, always with the same message. Occasionally, they exchanged words, with Jeans attempting to vary the phrasing, but the routine remained unchanged.

Despite the oddity, Kan never pursued his doubts, feeling it was none of his business. He was too lazy to investigate. After all, Jeans was a cool guy; why would he do something shady or assist someone in doing so? Maybe he was just being particularly nice, trying to help Kan out. So, once again, Kan dismissed the matter and proceeded to his class, eager for another of his rejuvenating naps, taking his usual shortcut.

But that day was different. As he walked, he suddenly heard a familiar voice—one he had never encountered on his usual route.

Kan had discovered a narrow path behind the school building that shortened his journey to the classroom. This path connected to the small park, but reaching it required traversing a corridor of large stone tiles—too much effort for him.

At first, he thought he was imagining things. His mind often replayed moments spent with Thua, driving him to question his sanity. But the voice spoke again, this time tinged with distress.

Acting on impulse, Kan crossed the corridor and halted behind a low wall. His mouth fell open as he took in the scene before him.

A student, back turned to Kan, was pinning Thua against the wall, choking him. Thua’s face was flushed, clearly struggling for air, making desperate sounds as he tried to break free. “Finally. Now you’re not so brave anymore, huh?” the assailant sneered. The voice was vaguely familiar, but Kan couldn’t place it.

Thua attempted to resist but was overpowered. The aggressor released him abruptly, wiping his hand on his uniform with a disgusted “Ew.” As he scanned the area, Kan recognized him—it was the first-year student who had inquired about Thua the previous day.

Kan had sensed something off about that guy from the beginning.

Thua rose, dusting himself off, and tried to leave without a word. Kan watched in disbelief, rooted to the spot, afraid to make a sound.

Was Thua really going to walk away without reacting? “It’s not fun; you never show what you feel,” the junior taunted, grabbing Thua’s arm. “I could only see a spark of emotion while I was suffocating you,” he said playfully. “Maybe I should use violence more often, then?”

Thua didn’t flinch, merely tilted his head to the left, his gaze almost provoking. The gesture infuriated Tim, who swung a fist into Thua’s face, the impact echoing in the oppressive silence.

Both Kan and Thua wore expressions of surprise. Neither had anticipated such a swift reaction. But Thua recovered quickly, touching the blood trickling from his lip, examining his stained fingertips with an inscrutable expression. His slightly narrowed eyes, arched eyebrows, and wrinkled nose revealed nothing. Even Kan, who had known him forever, couldn’t decipher his emotions. Despite this, concern gnawed at Kan, and the urge to intervene grew stronger.

But he hesitated, considering the consequences. Intervening could reignite rumors and subject him to renewed teasing and judgment—just when it seemed to have ended. He couldn’t endure that again.

Yet witnessing Thua’s ordeal firsthand caused a pang in his heart. The bleeding lip, reddened neck, and that unreadable expression unsettled him, challenging his principles and compelling him to act. Thua had always had that influence on him, an enigma Kan had never unraveled.

It was precisely that influence that propelled Kan forward when he saw Tim ready to strike again.

But someone else intervened first.

“Ayan?” Thua exclaimed, genuine surprise widening his eyes, as he realized there was no impact from Tim’s fist. The newcomer had seized Tim’s arm mid-air and offered Thua a gentle smile. “Are you okay?”

Kan, lost in his thoughts, hadn't noticed the stranger approach. He scrutinized the newcomer: gelled hair, multiple piercings, an abundance of accessories, and a blatant disregard for the school uniform. Kan had never seen him before. Was he even a Suppalo student?

Thua seemed to recognize him, though his surprise was evident.

“Yeah. Let's just leave."

Kan backed away, slowly planting his feet on the ground and making sure he wasn't heard, while Tim stood still, still confused by the unexpected change. And even when he tried to speak, the only thing, he could repeat was “Who are you?”

He knew that if there were any witnesses, and the occurrence was reported to the principal, he was screwed. Completely.

The two left. With Ayan placing an arm around Thua's shoulders.

Who was that boy, and why did he seem so familiar with Thua? It was the only thing that buzzed through Kan’s mind on the way back to class .