4 : Obscured
Scilius nearly waddled his way to school. Elliot had been invading his mind, through the entire night without remorse. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his companion in some form or another, either flashing a smile, brandishing himself in his underwear, or dreadfully worse, crying. What if I had hurt Elliot, his feelings?
Scilius couldn't even seek comfort in Elliot's texts. He sent multiple "Hi" and "Hello" messages, to no avail or response. Scilius speculated, unhealthily, at the possible reasons behind this. Could it be as simple as a broken charger or as horrible as a sobbing and crushed Elliot, his usual smile quivering in between wails?
Elliot had such a bite in his tone when Scilius backed away from that hug. He'd never heard Elliot openly express any form of contempt. It was almost astonishing. Scilius rubbed his sore eyes as he came across the grey brick school complex. He would just talk to Elliot and everything would be perfectly fine.
Scilius tapped his pencil nervously. First period with Schrodinger was nearly over, and Elliot was no where to be seen. He was gone, missing, but his brother was tangible as ever. Cecil sat behind an empty desk, staring blankly into a textbook and, frighteningly, passing a glance at Scilius every so often. What does that mean?
The bell rang and unruly furs filed out of the classroom. A claw caught Scilius on the shoulder before he could follow along with them. Schrodinger met his glance.
"You have a quiz to make up today," he smiled at him, "You'll be here at lunch right?"
"Sure," Scilius projected absent mindedly. He could see Cecil still remaining behind the two of them, not seeming eager at all to leave.
When Scilius left the room, he could feel the daggers being stared into his back. While he moved through the hallway, he couldn't shake it, finally turning his head to see Cecil, who was standing close enough to breathe down his neck.
"What are you - "
"Keep moving." He growled at Scilius.
Scilius moved along, a lot slower, with a chill falling down his spine. What's this about? Scilius remembered the expression Cecil had been having just yesterday: pleasant and almost supportive. Now he had been terrifying, filled to the brim with an almost vengeful aura. When Scilius tried to turn the corner to a nearby staircase, a firm grip stopped him, and kept pulling him forward, into the men's restroom at the end of the hallway.
Scilius didn't have time to talk while trying to free himself, and his mouth didn't open until his was against the wall in an empty room filled with nothing but abandoned stalls.
"What? We're going to be late." Scilius tried to push his way past Cecil while talking, but he was stopped.
"What is your problem?" Another growl rumbled from Cecil's teeth.
"I don't know - "
Cecil threw a punch, catching the side of Scilius' snout and following through. Scilius shook, holding a claw to the pulsing pain in his maw, while Cecil clutched his paw, almost just as painedly.
"Why'd you do that to Elliot?" Cecil said in another flat, angry growl.
"Do what?"
Cecil stood breathing, before throwing another, this time more telegraphed, punch. Scilius managed to catch it against his forearm, and suffered nothing more than two or three torn scales. Cecil's fist, however, drove into the concrete wall. Cecil grunted before speaking:
"You b - broke up with him," Cecil gave a sharp glare at Scilius, his paw shaking in pain, "Elliot said it was over text."
Scilius looked at the floor.
"I didn't mean to - I..." He didn't complete his thought.
Cecil shrugged his shoulder like he was getting ready to throw another hit, but stopped, like he thought better of it, and just put a paw on Scilius to throw him against the wall, turning away afterwards.
"He's not here today because he cried himself sick last night."
Scilius held his head where it hit the wall, barely hearing Cecil mumble, as he left the bathroom, "n' he was finally happy again."
"You showed up," Schrodinger greeted him as Scilius walked into the classroom, holding a piece of paper with "Montag," scribbled in less than legible red writing.
"Sure did," Scilius shrugged, trying to avoid showing the left side of his snout, and rubbing on the sore scabs on his arm.
When he picked a seat, Schrodinger put the quiz down on the desk for Scilius, while he pulled a lead pencil from his schoolbag.
"Goodluck," he said, and walked away like a waiter would say "Bon Appetite."
Scilius stared at the quiz for minutes without even touching graphite to paper. The thoughts of Cecil's attack had been following him still. "He was finally happy again," hit him very hard. Scilius had known Elliot from the first day to be a perpetual ball of happy. Was Cecil implying that Elliot hadn't always been so? Scilius knew nothing about Elliot's Freshman year, or anything before that. Was he different at that time?
Scilius stomach turned over. If that's the case... then I'm the one that ruined it for Elliot. Elliot had transcended into a better, happier person, and then I pushed him off his podium. Scilius' claws began to shake with his tail, nervously, the image of Elliot crying until he was sick, burning brightly into his head. What have I done to him?
"Scilius," Schrodinger called out, grabbing his attention. "It isn't that bad. There were only two problems on there I couldn't figure out." He flashed his scaly brown smile at Scilius, almost laughing at his own joke.
Scilius looked at the quiz that he hadn't answered a single question on yet. "Oh," he pretened to laugh, "I was thinking about something."
He clicked and tapped his pencil into the paper, avoiding his intrusive thoughts as best as he could, until the classroom door opened with a blue snout filling the space between.
"Hey Maryan." Schrodinger waved at his other star pupil.
"Hi, I thought I'd find Scilius here." She looked in his direction. Scilius looked up from the quiz.
"You did." He thought Maryan's face seemed a lot less mesmorizing with the thought of Elliot still clogging his head.
"Oh," Schrodinger jumped down and pulled a few packets from his drawer. "I found these for you two."
He handed them to Maryan while Scilius stood up with his pencil and paper in hand, finished.
"These are from the last three years of competition. I... acquired them. They should be good study guides."
"Will do fine," Maryan said, "Scilius, are you doing anything after school today?"
Scilius grabbed his bag, with a deep breath, and imagined Elliot's condition to himself one more time.
"No, I'm not doing anything."
Scilius was lying on his bed, frustrated. Elliot still wouldn't send him a reply, which did nothing to alleviate the guilt welling within him. He sat up with his phone in claw, still displaying the "No New Messages" alert. With nothing better to do, he opened up the "Contacts" tab, and pulled out a scrap of paper he had carefully put into his pocket.
"Maryan Elijah 314~159~2653"