The weekend went by swimmingly—Orion had slept for the majority of it, thus recuperating two days worth of insomnia—but when Monday came along, the threats of hellfire and damnation started all over again. His parents avoided him like he was a leper, preferring to communicate with him through the usage of grunts and shouts, while, at school, his classmates pranked him like there was no tomorrow. Every day got progressively worse, and by the following Friday, he was was ready to crawl into a hole and die.

That's why, when the final bell for the week rang, he suspired with relief. He shot up from his seat, gathered his belongings, and after a quick trip to his locker, directed himself towards the school's exit. Freedom awaited for him. Even though the weekend would be spent studying for both the English in-class and History test, at least it would be in the comfort of his bedroom, away from the world and all its problems.

As he elbowed his way down the hallway, he felt his phone vibrate in his front pocket. He whipped it out, frowning when he saw that it was a message from his mother. It said that she wouldn't be able to pick him up today, so he would have to catch the bus home. He let out another sigh, this time of frustration, and pocketed his phone. He had already missed the three-thirty bus, he would have to wait another half-hour before the next one came by.

His mood sourer than a lime, Orion took his place at one of the wooden picnic tables, the one furthest away from the bus stop. He leant forwards and rested his face on his hand; with a squint, he watched as the other students interacted with one another. A few were huddled in little groups, talking and laughing, while a few stood in pairs, and others alone, on their phones. Orion's gaze rested on the groups, for the most part, as he longed to be a part of them. It must be cool to have so many friends.

Even Barbara had other friends—they obviously weren't as close to her as Orion, after all, they were best friends, but it was still something. Barbara still had her own social circle. Many a time did she ask him to be a part of it, but it consisted entirely of girls. A gaggle of girls and a timid, nerdy boy mixed like oil and water.

All of a sudden, someone slapped his back and said, "Hey."

The person took a seat right across from Orion—who still needed to recover from getting his soul smacked out of him—and smiled.

Carter Brown. Orion's toes curled in his shoes, sending chills travelling up his legs, spine, and all the way to his brain. He couldn't even make eye-contact with the guy, so he focused on the collar of his light-blue polo shirt. It was identical to the one from last time, just in a different colour.

"I must've scared the shit out of you"—Carter scratched his forearm and chuckled—"sorry 'bout that."

"Y-yeah, no problem, I'm alright." Orion choked on spit and spent the next minute coughing.

"You sure? You don't look alright to me." There was neither amusement nor concern in his voice, but something else, something which Orion couldn't quite decipher.

"I'm—what makes you say that?" Orion's eyes met Carter's, but only for a split-second. There was a sinister quality to Carter's gaze that was both alluring and eerie.

"You're easy to read."

Like an open book.

"Well, uhm, actually..." Orion debated whether to spill the beans or not. Carter just watched him, and imperceptibly started to lean forwards until his arms were crossed on the table.

"It hasn't stopped, hasn't it?"

"W-what?" Orion's could feel the blood rushing to his ears; if he pulled out a mirror right then and there to peer at his reflection, he'd see that they were red like ripe tomatoes. He hated himself.

"That kid and his goons. They haven't stopped bothering you, have they?"

Orion gulped. "No."

Carter's eyes darkened and his face grew taut with anger. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, shouts resonated through the air, drawing the attention of Orion, Carter, and everyone within a one mile radius.

It came from the school entrance, at the bottom of the short flight of stairs. Two people were arguing, using wild gestures and obscenities—one of them, the girl, continuously bumped her chest against the male, who had his hands raised in surrender. Orion narrowed his eyes, and at closer inspection it looked like...Barbara and Brad.

Orion momentarily turned back in his seat towards Carter, who looked just as stunned as him. The rest of the audience began whispering to one another and the people closest to the action motioned for their friends to come over and enjoy the show It wasn't often that a fight broke out in public, but when it did, it became the talk of the school for weeks on end. Orion couldn't allow this to become any more physical than it already had. If it did, the school principal wouldn't be afraid to suspend them both, or worse, expel them. He didn't care for Brad—that asshole deserved worse—but all his thoughts were on Barbara. 

He pulled his backpack off and dumped it onto the table.

"You ain't going over there," Carter said. Meanwhile, the shouts became louder and the crowd started a chant. "Let them handle it."

Orion looked at him with furrowed brows. What? "I can't let Barbara get herself into trouble."

"Why get in a fight that has nothing to do with you?" Carter remained impassive, as if he had seen this sort of thing enough times in his life to not give a shit.

"Because she's my friend!" The situation was escalating, as was Orion's tone of voice. The question was hypocritical—Carter himself had done the same thing he was currently condemning. Even though Orion hadn't technically been in a fight, it was the same principle. Wasn't it?

Carter straightened, then slouched again. He tossed his head.

Orion swivelled back towards the fight and climbed over the chair, taking Carter's silence as an unspoken approval. He jogged over to the mob and pushed his way to the front; shouts and laughter encompassed his small form, grabbing at his heart and pulling it every which way. Someone began to chant "fight" and soon, in a domino effect, everybody followed suit with either their fist or phone in the air.

Before he knew it, Orion was spat out of the formless mass and into the inner circle. When the mob registered the new presence, it cheered, and all recording devices were immediately turned towards him. Orion blocked his face with his forearm as he scrambled to his feet; the chaos had put him in a state of befuddlement, and the only thing his brain registered was to not allow his face to be seen.

"Stop! Stop them!" he cried, throwing a hand up in front of the lens of a smartphone. Its owner just swore and shoved him back, resulting in Orion collapsing onto his ass. He remained speechless, but swivelled to look at the fight—Barbara and Brad were rolling about, grabbing at each other's clothes and throwing punches at one another.

More often than not, Brad had the advantage—he ended on top of Barbara, and with a trail of blood running down his cracked lips, his hair a dishevelled mop, he began to swipe at the girl's face with a smirk. Nobody intervened, and the teachers were nowhere in sight.

Orion knew what it meant to get himself involved—detention, suspension, even expulsion. But in a matter of seconds, the situation had escalated beyond anything he'd thought possible. He had to step in. Even though Brad would most likely beat him to a pulp, Orion had to do it. For Barbara.

Before he could overthink things, he pulled himself together and lunged for Brad, tackling him onto his side. The guy had been so preoccupied with his opponent that he hadn't reacted to the assault; only a startled grunt escaped his lips, followed by a dry thud as his body hit the ground. Orion began swinging punches like a madman—he didn't know how to fight and was only acting on instinct—but every time his fist made contact with Brad, a surge of adrenaline would pump through his veins.

Barbara yelled at him to stay out of it. The surrounding crowd chanted his name. Orion felt powerful in that moment, he felt in control of his situation. He chose to do this, out of his own free will, and as he channelled his fury through his hands, he knew that he didn't want to stop. The vermin that laid underneath him, on the verge of unconsciousness, deserved what was coming for him.

All the pain, the humiliation, the tears, the bruises, everything the guy had ever done to him in the past week and more were the fuel that kept the fire burning.

Until, abruptly, someone snuffed it out by grabbing Orion's collar and dragging him away.