Chapter Twelve: I'm Suffocating (Under Words of Sorrow)
Tommy's POV

I never saw him.

In the two weeks that passed, and my sitting near the door continued, listening to him wail in the band room, I never saw him. When he would be done, I simply left to go to my first period class. He never came out, and I didn't even dare to knock or open the door. I just sat and listened, tapping my fingers and feet to his beat. Sometimes, I got inspired and pulled out my notebook to write a few chords and lyrics, although I didn't think they were worth shit.

That morning was different, though. I didn't hear the usual rock and roll or the sweet sound coming from inside the room. Sure, I was disappointed and upset, but what could I do? Go inside the room and demand the ghost of all things mighty to make him come in there? Right, that's what I'd spend my time doing.

But I wasn't too upset for long. I hadn't seen Adam in a long time. We'd, usually, just see each other in the morning, and that was all. Every time I started towards his direction in the lunch room, Monte or Longineu- quite literally, at times- dragged me to their table. He'd still read Wicked every day, and I found it cute that he was so attached to a book, and I kind of felt like it was his savior when I wasn't there.

I mean... That made it sound like I was all he thought about. I'm sure he didn't. He's a teenage boy, for Christ's sake. He has tons of other things washing around his mind besides some small, blonde, problematic kid. Unless I meant something more to him than just a small, blonde, problematic kid... Doubtful.

The day, all in all, had been pretty uneventful, except for when Adam asked me if I wanted to go to the Winter choral concert and to come over after school. I couldn't believe he even had to ask- Of-fucking-course I would go to the concert. But when he asked me the first time, it sounded like a fish had been shoved down his throat. It was hard not to laugh, especially with that image in mind. When he asked me again and I understood, I felt my heart beat a little faster. I couldn't explain it. It just did. Maybe it was just because he looked do damn adorable while trying to build the confidence to choke the words out.

Most of the day, I'd been spacing in and out during all of my classes. I just couldn't stay focused; it was kind of a gloomier day. But when I wasn't off in La La Land, I could see jocks staring at me and chuckling to themselves. I paid no mind to it. Let them fucking laugh if they want, right? What did I care? They're just brainless idiots with time on their hands.

Time came to my last period class, and it was gym. It's not that I didn't like it, but I didn't hate it, either. I liked going to the weight room, because it was probably the best exercise for me, but we didn't always go there, and I got pretty peeved. They were stealing my muscles away from me, God dammit, obviously I'm going to be pissed.

But luckily, we did go to the weight rooms that day. I won't go into too much detail, but by the end of class, you could say I felt renewed and pumped. Blood was running through course veins and sweat was running from my hair and down the back of my neck, and then some down my chest and back. There was a bench running through the middle of each row of lockers in the room underneath the gym, but I refused to sit on it. I mean, seriously? How many guys had sat on that bench butt naked?

I let out a sigh as I peeled away my sweat stained gym shirt, nothing more than an old, gray t-shirt, and threw it back into my locker, retreating my Axe from my bag. Honestly? That shit smelled disgusting and way too overpowering after the first few minutes of putting it on, especially when twenty-something other guys were putting it on at the same time, but after a while, it was orgasmic.

I'd just reached inside to grab my shirt when I saw them; the four jocks that had been giving me funny looks all day. Ha. I sound like a girl on her period- Whining because people looked at her funny. Not that I would know... Or anything...

But even then, they were giving me weird looks and laughing amongst themselves, and it was creeping me out. Each and every one of them gave off a horrible vibe, and I shivered a little just from being in their presence. They weren't the stereotypical jocks, with jackets with the school logo on them or anything like that. They didn't have buzz cuts, and or even intimidating looks. They were... Average, but with a little more muscle and height to them.

One of them (I couldn't remember his name... Sam, maybe? No idea), walked- wait, make that strut- over to me as I pulled my shirt over my head, flattening it out against my stomach. I looked up at him, and back down at my already-jean-covered legs,buttoning them before trying to work the zipper. I kept my eyes down, but still saw him lean against the locker next to me, only a foot away from me.

"Can I help you?" I muttered, fighting against the zipper. God dammit... My fingers fumbeled around the fly for a few more moments before I finally swiftly pulled it up. Ha! Victory! But I wasn't feeling very victorious, because two more jocks were lurking their way towards me. My eyes darted towards them, then back to the one that was originally there. He smirked, and brought his fist up, bumping it against my upper arm.

"You're a pretty cool kid," he snickered, but there was something about his tone that I didn't like. Almost seeming like it was laced with impatience. Impatience? Impatience for what? I swallowed a lump in my throat, and turned my attention back to my locker, reaching in and grabbing my black sweater.

"Thanks..." I mumbled as I pulled my arms through the sleeves, repositioning it on my body before starting to zipper it up.

"So why do you hang out with that fag?" He asked. I stopped mid-zipper, and looked up at him. I hang out with a fag? Not that I knew of. His eyes were somewhat glazed over, and there was a fierce fire burning from him. A coil tightened in my stomach and I continued zippering the sweater.

"Beg pardon-?" But I barely finished my sentence before his fist lunged forward and into my gut. I keeled over, grasping my stomach and wheezing a little. What the fuck? I didn't even get time to adjust before the other two grabbed either side of my arms and pinned me against a nearby wall, my head thudding against it. My eyes swirled around a little bit in my head and I groaned, wanting to rub my head. I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard the last guy running over to where I was. It was only my best luck that everyone had already left. Awesome. I have an awesome life.

The other guy's fist collided with my nose, rather harshly, and I groaned, leaning my head to the side. It stung.. And I instantly felt the flow of blood. I sniffed a little bit and looked back up, trying to look at them clearly but I wasn't allowed that. The first guy's knee came up and into my groin, going back down before bringing it back up and into my stomach. I coughed loudly and leaned over a little bit; I was restricted of doing any further.

The same process repeated over and over again; fist to the gut, fist to the nose, and knee to the gut. I guess they thought that my balls should only be hit once. What fucking considerate men... Every time, I felt myself unwinding and splitting at the seams. Blood was starting to form in my mouth, and I was coughing like I had been smoking on a cancer stick every day of my life since I was born. My lungs hurt, my head hurt, and everything was starting to go blurry.

It seemed to stop for a minute, but with every deepening breath I took, I felt like they were still punching me. One of them leaned closer to my ear, and I wanted to spit my blood onto him. "You're just as much a faggot as he is," he seethed, and then kneed me, harder than the other times, in the gut again. I wheezed loudly and choked on my own breath, hanging my head so my hair fell over my face. Fucking... Assholes...

My head was spinning, and metallic liquid kept forming in my mouth and coming from my nose. They all laughed obnoxiously before the two that were holding me let me go, and I fell forward, half relieved, but that was before I realized I hadn't fallen onto the ground, but that my stomach landed right against the bench. Blood dripped onto the floor and into my hair, and when I tried to open my eyes, I decided it would be better if I closed them again. I heard their footsteps echoing away, along with their laughter, as I continued to wheeze and gasp for breath.

Phone. I needed my phone. I needed to call someone, or I would die here. But who to call? Who to fucking call?

Adam.

I tried to push myself up and off the bench, but failed miserably and only ended up falling back against it and feeling like something snapped in my rib cage. I moaned to myself and bit down on my bloody bottom lip. Fuck, it hurt so much. I felt like there was a knife stuck through me and I couldn't get it out. Instead of risking to fall on that knife again, I just reached my arm up, hoping that I could reach my locker.

But I couldn't. I couldn't fucking reach it. I palmed the locker beneath mine, and whined as I continued, effortlessly, to get my hand to my locker. When I finally understood that I wasn't going to reach it, I slid it back down the lockers, sure that I was smearing my blood all over them. I felt like someone suddenly lit a match in my head, and then instantly blew it out, because my body went slack against the bench and I fell backwards, against the floor, taking deep breaths and trying to move again.

I was slowly slipping out of my state of some-what consciousness, but forced myself back into it. The floor was vibrating underneath my head, and I heard it clearly in my ears. The shoes continued to shuffle down the hallway, and they grew louder and faster.

"Tommy?" They called out, but it was faint, even though I knew they were near. "Tommy?" They called again. I wished I could answer. Moan, whine, groan, something, but I just couldn't force it out. Suddenly the steps stopped, and I heard a soft gasp. And then I was too far gone. The last thing I felt were strong hands gripping my shoulders, and placing my back against a locker.

"Ad... dam..." I finally mumbled quietly, feeling the pressure from my stomach easing a little bit.

"Shh, shh, Tommy, shh," he whispered, stroking my hair out of my face. It felt nice, and my head lolled to the side a little bit, into his touch. I grumbled incoherent thoughts, and black was dancing around my vision.

And then I was out.