(James pov.)
My nose is still pouring blood and my head is beginning to hurt because of it. Across from me in this white-washed hallway sits Atlas. His head in his hands.
"Hey," I begin. He looks up at me; his green eyes are red rimmed, his dark black hair standing up from him running his fingers through it so many times. "I am sorry." He laughs but it isn't a happy sound. It is to high pitched and eerie. "I should be saying 'sorry' I am the one who punched you." I smile, pressing my nose closed harder trying to stop the flow of blood.
"I deserved it," Atlas nods in agreement. He stands up and I cannot help but flinch away from him. He stops, looks at me causiously, and pinches the bridge of my nose between two of his fingers. "It clots the blood," I nod and he smiles.
"Boys, come into my office. We need to have a serious discussion." The principal says hands on her hips.
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United States • 20 years old