Hugo

This branch employs dark themes, particularly around consent and power. Please proceed with care.

Many years prior, in the summer of 2003.

Hugo unclenched his tight fist and rubbed his sore wrist as he stepped towards the school building.

He struggled at high school, so he was grateful that it was coming to a close. In the two years since he had transferred, he hadn't made a single close friend. The groups had crystallised long before he arrived. He wondered if what he was about to do was actually fun for the ones who had been here all along. Disheveled and without a partner, he walked apprehensively through the curtains to the school gymnasium, decorated for senior prom.

Mrs Sanders smiled at him on the way in, giving him three tokens. "Two, plus one extra for my favorite student," she spoke kindly. "Oh, hang on! This is all wrong."

He paused, confused. He watched as she reached and adjusted his tie. He furrowed his brow: nobody had taught him how to wear a bowtie. Having finished, she rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, her caring warmth helping to take the sting from the pity he felt from her. He took a second to reflect on her kindness since the accident.

"You're all 18 now. Adults, ready to decide your own futures. Today is a fresh start. Remember that." She said.

He smiled appreciatively through the corner of his mouth, the most he could show without betraying his emotions. "Thanks," he managed. He knew he'd miss her after today.

He proceeded to the second curtains, ready to face the music as the DJ faded from Where is the love? to Magic Stick. The cheer from the other side alerted Mrs Sanders to the lewd song. "I told him not to play this!"

Hugo watched the old lady sprint through the curtains to the DJ to reprimand him, before he followed her through to explore the rest of the hall. Lit by only tinted disco lights, and with plastic streamers from the ceiling, it was barely recognisable as the place he'd been pummelled with dodgeballs just months prior. He looked down at the peeling basketball court lines on the floor to confirm it was the same room.

With nobody to look for, he moved to the food and picked up a slice of cake. He leant on the folded bleachers and ate, watching. The crowd boo at the DJ, now playing Seven Nation Army. Hugo liked that song.

He liked all the songs; he just didn't want to dance. He rubbed his sore wrist as he enjoyed song after song, watching his classmates dance from his dark corner. He enjoyed watching the girls dance together, their tight colourful dresses showing their bodies to Hugo in a new way, sequins glistening in the disco lights.

"Hugo." An exasperated voice next to him made him jump. He recognised Arianna, the most beautiful girl in his class. "I don't know what the hell bribe you gave Mrs Sanders but the witch told me I have to dance with you or I'll be held back from graduation." She sneered, sending a soft wave down her soft blonde hair.

"She's not a witch." Hugo corrected her. He wished she hadn't meddled though -- he was enjoying himself until she sent Arianna over. He looked at her in her baby blue flowery dress, visibly more expensive than all the other prom dresses. It was floor length and puffed out majestically. There was no doubt she looked beautiful, as ever.

"Fine. She's a bitch. Happy?!"

Hugo's blood boiled as she insulted his only ally in this school. He rubbed his wrist. He hated that she'd had years of impunity at school on account of her beauty. "Look, you don't have to dance with me. I don't want to dance with anyone, you can go back to enjoying yourself."

She didn't react well to this. "Do you know how many of those rats want to dance with me?! Boys don't turn me down! This isn't an invitation, it's an instruction. I'm not about to miss my graduation. I have my dress already."

"I said no."

"Ugh!"

Hugo wasn't ready to be shoved. He tried to support himself against the folded bleachers he had been leaning on but his arm flailed ineffectively through the curtains, unable to grapple onto anything. The last thing he saw as he slipped between them into the dusty void was her two friends flanking her through the crack. He landed in a cloud of dust on floor that hadn't seen feet in many years, let alone a mop.

Being beaten up by the hot girl girl seemed like a fitting end to his senior year, he figured as he resigned himself. At least he'd be able to leave.

He squeezed his hands in rage as he used the wall behind him to climb up.

Arianna looked behind her to see if they were visible to anyone else in the dark void behind the bleachers and quickly advanced on him. "Listen, rat. You clearly guilted Old Sanders into this with your stupid orphan story. And then you have the gut to reject me. You're going to get it now."

He knew what was coming as her face tightened. Partially upright, he had his back to the wall, with only his sore hand to guard between his legs. He closed his eyes and waited for the pain of impact. He flinched when her knee hit his hand and crotch but there was no pain. Instead of kneeing him, she must have stopped at the last moment, leaving her inner thigh resting against his and her knee pressing gently against him. His hand was holding her thigh.

It felt ... nice. He felt rage, but he also felt a new feeling. Intimate, he supposed. Warm. Hot, even.

"Wh- what are you doing?" He asked, confused by her sudden change in behavior.

"Get off me." She ordered, shaking with rage.

He quickly lifted his hand off of her thigh, snapping out of the erotic stupor. "Sorry! I didn't--"

She seemed to wriggle a bit, rubbing gently against his crotch. "The fuck is- I can't move my leg! What did you do?!" She pushed against him to try to get away, but had no luck.

It hurt. "Ow! Stop it!" He wailed as he grabbed her wrists and held them to each side of her. Confusingly, as soon as he made contact with her, she stopped resisting. Even after he let go, they stayed where he left them.

She struggled in front of him, her leg still between his, her arms by her head, almost as if her wrists and knee were held in iron. She screamed for help, but the music drowned her out.

Pinner by her knee, he didn't know what was happening. He saw fear in her eyes, felt pleasure in his body, pain surging in his wrist, rage pulsing in his head. Without a word, he tentatively placed his hand back on his predator's thigh. It felt so soft. He waited for her to attack him but it didn't happen. She just strained at her invisible bonds and watched the boy she thought so little of have free reign over her prized body.

With newfound time, he looked down at his hand. So many new feelings in this moment rushed through him. His body asked him to move his hand up her thigh. He reached under her raised skirt and felt her soft leg from her calf back up her warm thigh. It felt like nature compelled him. His eyes flashed hungrily as he continued.

He looked at her perky breasts through her flowery dress. He wanted to know...

"Arianna?!" Danielle's voice made the pair jump, breaking Hugo's focus. He looked over at her. She was a thinner, brunette, belle. She had less curves than Arianna but she was undoubtably beautiful too. This was the closest Hugo had been to either of them in the two years at the school. He wondered where the last third of the triumvirate was.

Arianna found herself liberated suddenly. She sprang back from Hugo and backed away from him silently, confused and fearful.

"What are you doing with him?!" Danielle giggled.

"N-nothing. Just giving him some advice." She composed herself and left. "Let's go."

Hugo stayed behind the bleachers, appreciative to have an even more discrete hiding place to contemplate the strange events. His wrist throbbed with pain. He looked down and unclenched his fist yet again. He tried to control his breathing as he paced back and forth, disco lights casting slits of light through the gaps in the stands. Two years of anger and pain was too much to back into its bottle in the gymnasium as the bass of Evenescence rattled the bleachers around him and lights flickered.

He wanted to punch the walls, but resisted, aware of how badly his wrist already hurt. He had so much tension and nowhere to put it. He clutched one of the supports and roared in pain, his legs buckling under him.

Nobody heard, of course, because...