Verboten

The door clicked open. Jack looked up, a pen cap in his mouth, expecting it to be Alex, sneaking in at lunchtime for a quick making out session, but instead it was Amy. He capped his pen and set his work aside, smiling at his student. “What can I do for you, Amy?” he asked pleasantly.
Amy smiled back, but it was more of a smirk than her usual soft, kind grin. She was holding a white envelope in her left hand and her right was stuffed in her pocket. Without speaking, she held out the envelope, which Jack took with no small amount of confusion.
He wondered idly if this was some kind of homework assignment, but why would she be concealing it in an envelope? He ran his finger along the glued flap and frowned as he saw part of a glossy photograph, pulling it out fully.
He gasped when he saw what it was; a picture of him and Alex kissing, Alex on his lap, his shirt unbuttoned, Jack palming him through his trousers, their lips pressed together hard and Alex’s hands clutching Jack’s messy, rumpled hair.
“How did you get this?” Jack demanded, fighting the urge to slam his fist into a wall.
Amy smiled, that sly smirk again, and perched herself on the edge of a desk, crossing her legs. “Let’s just say that I noticed something up between you two,” she said airily. “So I did a bit of Sherlock-ing.”
Jack buried his head in his hands. This couldn’t be happened. This really couldn’t be happening right now. “What do you want, Amy?” he asked eventually.
“Not much.” Amy shrugged. There was a careful look of indifference plastered on her face as she examined her nails. “Just for my grades to be bumped up to an A, maybe an A* every now and then.”
“Fine,” Jack said abruptly, staring at the photo. “And I’ll write you good reports, whatever you want.”
“One more thing,” Amy said happily, still checking her hands delicately. “End the relationship.”
Jack looked up at that. “Why?” he asked, his pulse accelerating. “Why would you care about that?”
“Because Alex is my friend,” Amy said, finally setting her hands down and meeting Jack’s gaze. “And you’ll end up hurting him, and I don’t want that.”
“Like you really care about Alex,” Jack snorted cynically. “You’re just doing this for the grades.”
“The grades are just an added bonus,” Amy smiled. “My main concern is Alex, I’m just failing History right now. I don’t think I need to tell you what I’ll do if you don’t keep my conditions.”
“Yeah, you’ll tell the head teacher, et cetera, et cetera.”
“Good.” Amy hopped down from the desk. “So I’ll be off now, you break up with Alex, bump up my grades, and you can keep the photos…for memories’ sake.”
Bitch, Jack thought bitterly as Amy walked out, for all the world looking as if she was an innocent little angel. Grimly, he pulled out his phone and sent a rapid text to Alex. ‘Come to classroom, now. Important.’ He knew Alex would probably worry about the lack of kisses or kind language, but maybe it was for the better if he stopped acting like he felt.
He drummed his fingers on the desk whilst he waited for Alex to arrive. When he finally did, Jack didn’t return his smile, and motioned for Alex to sit down in a chair opposite his desk. He got right to the chase.
“We can’t be together,” he said abruptly, immediately hurting inside at the sight of Alex’s wounded expression.
“What did I do?” He sounded like a lost puppy, kicked by its owner while it expected a treat.
“Nothing,” Jack said quickly. He had to be an arse about this, but he didn’t have to be an absolute twat. “I’m just not comfortable with this, with you being younger than me.”
“You said it didn’t matter before,” Alex whispered. He was scratching at his arms, seemingly unaware of his actions.
“It does now,” Jack said firmly. “I think we should just be friends from now on.”
Alex frowned. “Fuck you,” he said abruptly, and stood up, kicking his chair over. He walked from the room without a second glance, swinging his bag over his shoulder.
Jack sighed and buried his head in his hands. “Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself, trying to ignore the ache in his heart already.
LINE BREAK
He hadn’t used these for ages. They had been sitting in his drawer, untouched but ready to be used if the need should ever arise again. He didn’t think the need would, but here he was, sitting in his room with a blade pressed to his wrist.
He hadn’t done it for so long now; it felt almost strange, but not as strange as he would have thought after having such a long break from this. The blood felt good, dripping down his arms, staining his skin, cleansing his worries.
He became more vicious, tearing at the skin until it hung from his wrists in thin strips, blood oozing, pain overwhelming, head dizzy and light and boneless. Alex made no move to stop the bleeding, allowing it to baptize his troubles.
Little did he know that on the other side of the town, a teacher was sitting with a blade, contemplating whether to do the exact same thing.