A Thousand Years - Zarry AU

Chapter seventeen

In the heat of the endless jeering, Harry’s thoughts were bounded with shame. He stood frozen on his place, hearing the hilarity of the people who rather found this affliction amusing. It was slowly sinking in to his senses. At the brief loss of his consciousness, he thought everything was just a bad dream and that eventually he would wake up by the loveseat, cuddling with Zayn as both left the movie playing while their legs sprawled protectively together.

“So it is true! You are a fucking slut!”

Harry winced at the customary nickname spatted at him. Sure he was used to the tyrants calling him vulgar accusations but they weren’t aware of how true their words were back then. Everyone was oblivious of how accurate the banters were. Harry was indeed a prostitute. He was fine by them entitling him such wounding reputation before because he knew everyone was heedless of the fact that every spiteful word they cast was true.

But then, Harry suddenly came back to his senses. He maneuvered forward towards the board in an attempt of eradicating the unwanted photos. His nasty and filthy photos he never once knew that he was actually being photographed or much worse such as being filmed. But he was hoping that the latter would be fallacious. Just by imagining that his lewd videos come to be epidemic within sixth form made him want to throw up.

“I’m surprised there’s still no teacher roaming around to check this out.” Peyton jested, acting all tough and arrogant in front of him. Soon enough his friends began circling around Harry who now had a bad feeling about their next action. But he promptly shook his fears regardless of the intimidating circumstance. Harry tried to pass through the hindering Peyton to get on with his purpose of taking all the sinful photographs away.

But was only hauled back by another jock behind him...

“Fucking whore, look at that c*m stained face of yours. If I knew you were so much of a c*ckslut then I should’ve dragged you out back at the school gym and had a good taste of you!” Everyone else erupted into uproarious fits, some bobbing their heads in agreement to what the shaved jock had said.

“N-No! I’m not what you think!!” Harry angrily blurted out loud in the means of shutting them up. It was very unlikely of him of yelling, so he easily caught their attention.

“Oh yeah?” Peyton scoffed, “Then what do you call this? Riding like a pro, eh?” he pointed out before idly waving and parading the certain picture of Harry.

“NO! PLEASE GIVE ME THAT!” he hurdled forward to reach the picture out of Peyton’s hands but he was fast on flinging it away from Harry, plus the jocks were quick to block and clutch him. “How’s an entire jock sound to you curls?” Peyton chuckled vilely.

“NO PLEASE DON'T!! LET GO OF ME! DON’T LOOK AT THEM! PLEASE!!!”

“I won’t take no for an answer, slut.” And those were the last words spatted on the poor lad before they decided on pushing and passing him from one tyrant to another, groping and touching on the areas Harry never wished for them to touch.

A single drop of sorrow welled up from the corner of his eye and suddenly, the dam broke. Hot torrents of tears coursed down his face. He relentlessly beseeched for their mercy but no one dared to stop the harassment. The wounding mockeries regarding the discovery of Harry’s real identity continued.