Sick Little Games

It's the end of fourth period of the last week of term in Balwyn High. Senior; Jack Bassam Barakat slams his locker after retrieving his bag and slinging it over his shoulder lazily. He makes his way down the corridor; being in last year, the students in that dorm could leave early.

After traipsing through the corridor and approaching the sliding doors at the entrance Jack finally makes his way outside into the carpark, not looking forwards to the task of finding his beaten up Holden.

Before even stepping off the last drop to the floor, the Senior notices a small figure sprawled out in the steps, a little below and beside him. 
He almost passes it off for being a homeless person or something (Why the hell wouldn't it be in a dump of a school like this?) but when the person looks up a little, studying Jack's tall, slightly taken aback frame, he realizes the body is of a young man, presumably a student of this school.

Jack just stares at the boy with looks of disarray and disgust plastered on his face.
The boy sedately returned Jack's gaze.

'What the fuck are you doing?' Jack coughs, regretting even asking- he could've been on his way home now.

The younger boy drops his eyes to the floor, readjusting himself so he was sat up. He seemed to Jack to be flinching a little as he moved as if he were hurt, but Jack didn't care- he just wanted to go home. 
When the obviously younger boy looked up he smiled weakly, obtaining nothing in return from Jack. He wasn't amused.
'I'm sorry, I- I was just, picking myself up,' he replies, his voice raspy but thick with English accent, making Jack question his own sanity. People didn't usually sleep on stairs, and last time he checked he wasn't in England. This was screwed up.

The peculiar boy stood up now; Jack taking a few steps back, not afraid to admit he was wary of him stabbing him. It was then Jack noticed the scrapes along his cheek bone and his split lip. Oh, picking himself up...

'I'm Alex Gaskarth,' he sighed, holding a hand out and seemingly embarrassed at his own awkward introduction.
The senior viewed the tiny scrapes along Alex's knuckles. 
He then ignored the friendly gesture, surveying the carpark for his car. 'Jack Barakat.'

'Nice to meet you, Jack.' The shorter boy smiles, as Jack looks down at him, screening the mousey brown hair that is splayed out from underneath the over sized beanie he is wearing, he then takes in what the kid is wearing. Alex was dressed in slightly baggy black jeans that hugged his slim legs and a red checkered flannel shirt who Jack turned his nose up at- according to him, no one had a right mind in fashion these days. He turned his focus back to the car park.

'Yeah, alright.' He grins- the source of his happiness is that his eyes landed upon the red, rusted Holden that did in fact belong to him. 
'See you around.' he chirped, not exactly conscious to what he had said. 
Before Alex had chance to speak, Jack had briskly walked towards the car and fumbled for his keys in his hoodie pocket just glad to be inching closer to his bed. He threw his bag into the back seat and thrust the key into the engine, knowing that if the car didn't start he'd kill someone. 
The roar of the strained engine was the root of happiness for Jack. 
He sighed, rolling down his window and pulling forwards in his car- away from that shit school and that weird-ass kid.
What a fucking day.