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This turned out long. Maybe not the longest I've ever posted here, but definitely up there. Thanks for reading! Happy belated New Year!

***

    It’s not that Mandy was eavesdropping, exactly. “Eavesdropping” implied some sort of sneaking or subterfuge; Mandy just happened to pay attention to conversations that happened around her locker. 

    “Senior lock-in is the best night of the year!” Cassie insisted, sounding every bit like the blonde cheerleader she was. “It’s more relaxed than prom, and way cheaper, because you don’t have to rent a tux!” 

    Out of the corner of her eye, Mandy saw Ethan give a hesitant half-smile. “It sounds cool,” he acquiesced. “I’ll think about it.” 

    Cassie put her hand on Ethan’s arm, a move that Mandy had seen melt much stauncher men. “It’ll be such a good way to get to know everyone!” she wheedled. “You don’t want to be the guy who just came for senior year, and then no one remembers you!”

    Ethan pulled out his textbook, not meeting Cassie’s wide-eyed gaze. 

    “It’s so chill!” she promised, sensing an opening. “Literally, you do whatever you want! There are quieter rooms with card games and stuff, and then the gym has sports and is really loud, but then the choir room is for people who want to sleep, so you don’t even have to stay up all night if you don’t want to!” 

    Gathering her own supplies for her next class, Mandy knew Ethan was done for. If he didn’t give in now and agree to go to the lock-in, Cassie would have the entire cheer squad on him by lunch time. Any feasible excuse would be futile. He had to work? Cassie would personally find an underclassman to replace him. Didn’t want to buy tickets? Cassie would talk to the principal and get them for free. Literally anything to get the cute, mysterious new guy to come to the first big senior event of the year. 

    “I’ll…” Ethan trailed off as he turned from his locker to see Cassie’s oddly persuasive smile. 

    He exhaled softly. “Yeah, OK.” 

    “Yay!!” Cassie leapt and clapped her hands together, looking for all the world like Ethan’s capitulation was the best thing that had ever happened to her. “I’ll make sure Mrs. Schaeffer has a ticket in your name in the main office!” 

    The warning bell rang, and Cassie turned and skipped sideways down the hall, still chattering excitedly as she went. “You won’t regret it! It’s such a fun night! I’m so excited!!” 

    Ethan rolled his shoulders back, looking bemused.  Mandy closed her locker and stared appraisingly at him. 

    “So what’s your deal?” she asked bluntly, never one to pass up a chance to get more of a story.

    “Huh?” Ethan blinked, as if he’d just realized Mandy was there. 

    “Why were you so against the lock-in? And why did you let Cassie talk you into it?” 

    Ethan straightened, then shrugged one shoulder, projecting casualness. “I didn’t want to miss work, but I guess I can get a sub,” he said smoothly. 

    Tilting her chin up, Mandy narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

    Ethan had been looking behind him, nervous about getting to class on time, but he turned back at Mandy’s apology, confused. “Oh, it’s no big deal,” he said, shrugging again. “Like I said, I’ll get a sub…”

    “No,” Mandy shook her head, her face deliberately nonchalant. “I’m sorry I made you lie.” 

    She stood just long enough to watch a look of alarm cross Ethan’s face, then turned to go to class. 

***
    On Friday, the night of the lock-in, Mandy pulled her car into the school parking lot at about 7:30. There was no strict start time for the lock-in – some seniors actually just stayed after classes – but everyone had to be there by 8, when the doors of St. Benedict High School were locked. Then, the seniors had more or less free run of the school (no teachers’ lounge, no chemicals from the science rooms) until 1 PM the next day. There were snacks for the night, a continental-type breakfast, and then a big pizza lunch before everyone had to leave. 

    Many students came already wearing sweats or pajama pants, while others had a change of clothes in their backpack, along with a toothbrush and any other items they deemed necessary for an enjoyable night: playing cards, extra snacks, movies for the rooms that had TVs set up, etc. 

    For Mandy, her most important extra item was her camera. She was the head of the yearbook committee, since the school was too small to have a newspaper, and she took her job very seriously. 

    Mandy wanted to be a reporter more than anything. She wanted to tell the truth, expose cover-ups, and give people as much information as possible, so they could be fully informed citizens. She wanted to get stories from the people who experienced them, not pundits talking on TV. 

    Like many high school students of her generation, Mandy was irritated at the way she felt her generation was portrayed in the media. Between the cost of college (and the increased competition for many schools), stagnant wages, and school shootings, Mandy thought that it was well past time for younger people to have a voice, and she wanted to be part of that voice. And her desire to learn and share the truth had only grown more urgent since last school year. 

    Just a few weeks before the summer, there had been a shooting at Belden High, which was about an hour and a half away from Mandy’s town. She didn’t know anyone there, personally, but St. Ben’s had played them a few times in various sports, and all of the students had been understandably shaken at something happening so close to home. 

    Mandy more than most. 

    In the weeks after the shooting, Mandy had obsessed over the thought that someone had to have known that the killer was angry, violent, and had access to a gun. Surely people knew by now that it could happen anywhere, that no one was safe. 

    She knew, of course, that not every angry student was a shooter, and that there wasn’t a single set of behaviors that defined every killer, but she was still determined to notice things. Not just potential shooters, though – Mandy wanted to truly pay attention in her senior year and see who was in need, who was struggling, who needed encouragement around the school. She wanted to figure people out. 

    And her current target was none other than Ethan Lane. 

    Mandy looked around as she entered the cafeteria, where everyone had to gather for attendance and reading of the rules before the night began, but she didn’t see Ethan. Setting her things down on a chair, she mentally ran over what she knew about the transfer student. 

    Ethan had shown up on the first day of school, tall and quiet. Because their class was comparatively small – only about eighty people – the presence of a new student in their senior year was pretty big news. However, though Ethan wasn’t exactly unfriendly, he wasn’t exactly forthcoming, either. 

    When asked where he was from, he’d say something like “Oh, we moved around a lot, and now my mom got a job here.” When asked about his interests, he’d give a few generic answers, then say something about how he never really had time to do clubs or sports, because they moved so much. 

    He didn’t talk much overall, so it’s not like his vague answers were overly suspicious, but Mandy had made it her mission to notice and understand, so…

    Ethan knew none of this. His only goal was to get through senior year without drawing too much attention. Even though spending the night in the school building didn’t sound at all appealing to him, he’d made the quick mental calculation while under Cassie’s persuasive gaze that not going was more noteworthy than going. 

    And thus, Ethan found himself pulling into the school parking lot just before 8 on Friday night. He’d prepared, and he had a mental game plan – he’d just hang out with the class for a while, maybe watching a movie, maybe just chatting in the cafeteria, and then he’d feign weariness and find somewhere to sleep.

    Ethan steeled himself as he walked through the doors. He showed his ticket to the teacher at the check-in table, then scanned the room to see if there was some unobtrusive place to sit down. Cassie, surrounded by friends, waved him over enthusiastically, and Ethan had to settle for decidedly obtrusive instead. 

    From her seat, Mandy watched Ethan intently. He looked uncomfortable, but not necessarily any more so than was warranted by the fact that he was the sole new kid walking into an overnight event. Still, she wanted to keep an eye on him. As Miss Lockwood, the AP English teacher and senior class advisor, stood to welcome everyone, Mandy slid out of her chair and sidled across the room to get a seat at Ethan’s table. 

    The class was respectfully quiet as Miss Lockwood read through the rules – no alcohol, obviously, no sex, no destruction of school property, and no leaving before 1 the next day without explicit parental permission. She kept her words, short, however, and soon enough, the room erupted with friendly excitement. Some students sprinted off the find TVs, another group barreled toward the gym to start a dodgeball tournament, but Cassie and a handful of her friends stayed at their table.

    “So, Ethan!” Cassie grinned. “We’re so excited you decided to come! We’re so happy to have you in our class, and we can’t wait to get to know you better!” 

    Ethan smiled. “I was actually hoping you could tell me more about all of you and the school,” he said smoothly. “You were right, Cassie – this is the perfect opportunity for me to learn everything the rest of you already know.”

    Cassie beamed, proud that her suggestion had been taken seriously, but Mandy was skeptical. This seemed like another ploy for Ethan to keep from having to talk about himself. 

    “Here, before we get started…” Marisol pulled a bunch of bottles of Mexican sodas (all school-approved, of course) out of her bag, straight from her visit to her grandmother over the summer. “I brought plenty, so drink up!” 

    Without even asking, she passed one to Ethan, who hesitated. 

    “Don’t worry,” Marisol promised, winking, “there are no worms or weird, illegal herbs in them. It’s just like regular soda, just more flavorful.” 

    “They’re great, Ethan, you’ll love them!” insisted Cassie. “Mari brings them every time she visits her family.” 

    Ethan gave a half-smile and twisted the top off, having again decided that acquiescence was the way to go in this situation. He took a sip; the drink was really good, very fruity. 

    It turned out to be a doubly strategic choice – as long as he had a soda, he could keep the bottle near his lips and use it as a chance to pause before answering any questions, often using that pause to quickly think of a way to deflect the conversation back to the other students at the table. It was an effective system, and Ethan barely had to speak over the next hour and a half, as Marisol kept replacing his empty bottles.

    Eventually, someone pulled out a pack of cards, and the table split into smaller groups, playing spades, hearts, and poker. It was a good way to pass the time, and Cassie had been right; it seemed like a pretty chill night. 

    After far too many rounds of cards, with most people switching games at least once, and Ethan still not having to answer any detailed questions (much to Mandy’s consternation, as she’d very carefully kept within earshot of him), Cassie suggested heading to one of the TV rooms to relax and watch movies. Texts were sent, and it was determined that most of the group would head to the second floor religion classroom, where a Matrix marathon was currently going on. 

    Ethan obediently followed the group upstairs; it was just after 11 now, and he’d promised himself he’d make it until midnight before “going to sleep.” Luckily, it was quiet in the classroom, save for the sounds from the movie. Ethan let out a breath, grateful to be further released from the demands of conversation. 

    Settling into a desk, Ethan half paid attention to the screen, while Mandy fully paid attention to Ethan. He hadn’t said anything particularly strange or incriminating, but he still looked…off. Like he didn’t want to be fully involved, or like he was just waiting to be somewhere else. 

    Mandy was partially right, at least. Ethan was more than ready to be somewhere else. He kept surreptitiously checking his phone as the movie went on, and finally, at 12:02 (he’d decided exactly midnight would be too suspicious), he shifted sideways. 

    “I’m pretty tired,” he whispered to Cassie. “I think I’m gonna go find somewhere to sleep.” 

    There were a few whispered protests, but Cassie shushed them. “I promised him we wouldn’t make him stay up all night!” She turned and smiled at Ethan. “Good luck – it’s always weird trying to sleep for real in a place that’s not meant for sleeping. We’ll see you in the morning!” 

    Ethan visibly relaxed, grateful to have been released. “Yeah, see ya.” 

    He slunk out of the classroom, carefully shutting the door behind him, but he didn’t head to the choir room. He hadn’t actually said that he was going to sleep in the designated room – just that he was going to sleep. 

    Most of the teachers knew to clean out their rooms before senior lock-in, and others just kept their doors locked altogether. Ethan knew that Señora Garcia, the Spanish and Latin teacher, had a couch in her room and was relieved to find both the door open and no one else inside. He pulled his hoodie tight and curled up on the couch, proud that he’d made it to his self-assigned deadline. 
    
    And deliberately ignoring the nagging sensation in his lower abdomen. 

    Mandy, having faked a trip to the bathroom, watched Ethan step into the Spanish classroom. Hoping she wasn’t being too obvious, she glanced through the narrow window on the door and saw him sink onto the couch in the back of the room. Mandy sighed, mentally chastising herself for being paranoid. Ethan really did want to sleep. 

    And for nearly three hours, he did just that. The school wasn’t huge, but it was big enough that the noise from the gym didn’t carry all the way around the building, and none of the TV rooms had the volume overly loud. Yes, it was slightly disconcerting to sleep in a dark school, but not so much that Ethan was unable to do so. 

    Before 3 AM, however, Ethan awoke and spent a few seconds being confused before remembering that yes, he was in school overnight, and yes, he had just been sleeping on Señora Garcia’s couch. 

    Once those realizations were complete, one more piece of awareness fell into place, and Ethan’s confusion was quickly replaced by terror. There was an awful, full feeling deep in his abdomen – one that he had directly planned against. 

    Trying to remain calm, Ethan pulled out his phone. 

    2:53

    Damn. There were still hours left. Ethan silently ran through his options, and managed to convince himself that he could just go back to sleep. This could be one of those weird times where it felt like he really had to pee, but then it didn’t actually get worse for a long time. 

    He flipped over so he was facing the back of the couch and curled up, closing his eyes. He forcibly tried to fall asleep (which, of course, is a terribly ineffective way to fall asleep) for a half hour when an uncomfortable jolt from his bladder made him cringe and roll over. 

    Now, Ethan was breathing hard. He knew what was going to happen, but he still tried to convince himself that he had options, that this wasn’t going to end horribly. 

    Ethan sat up, pressing his thighs together. He rose and tiptoed toward the door, opening it as quietly as possible. He didn’t hear any noise coming directly from the hallway, so he stuck his head out to look around. He could hear distant noise coming from the gym, but he didn’t see anyone in the second floor hall. 

    He carefully shut the door behind him, still trying to make as little noise as possible. The boys’ bathroom was on the other side of the school, so Ethan crept down the hallway, warily looking out for any classmates. 

    Other than the noise from the gym, the school was eerily quiet. The main hallway lights were off, as were most classroom lights, and the safety lights gave off an odd glow, lending an uncanny feeling to the whole endeavor. 

    Ethan walked slowly, rubbing his thighs together. As he approached the opposite wing, he began to breathe deeply, trying to convince himself that this would work. 

    But as he pushed open the door to the restroom (empty, thank goodness), he knew his hopes were futile. He felt his pelvic muscles contract, and, even as he pulled himself free of his sweatpants, nothing happened. 

    He clenched his teeth and bore down, but not one drop of urine escaped his exposed member. 

    Ethan groaned and shoved his dick back in his pants. Stupid Mexican soda, he thought, though he knew he, not the soda, was to blame. 

    Another wave of desperation rolled through his bladder, and Ethan gripped between his legs, thoroughly furious at his body’s lack of cooperation. He pressed his groin for a few seconds until the most immediate urgency passed, then tried to think of what else he could do. 

    There was another bathroom on the third floor. Maybe, he told himself, it would be completely quiet up there, with no lingering noise from the gym, and he’d be able to relax enough…

    Back in the hallway, Ethan looked around again. He still didn’t see anyone, though he saw the flickering light, presumably from a TV, in the history classroom a few doors down. Deciding to be extra careful, he went the opposite way toward the main stairwell. 

    The gym noise was more pronounced by the stairs, but it did diminish as he climbed up to the third floor. There seemed to be no one at all upstairs, which was both unnerving and relieving. 

    As he turned left toward the bathroom, Ethan’s bladder spasmed, and he felt a leak slip into his underwear. He choked out a sob, then threw a hand over his mouth to muffle any noise. 

    He shoved open the bathroom door, but his heart was already racing. The thing about school bathrooms is they all look pretty much the same, and as soon as Ethan set foot in the room, his muscles locked up completely. 

    Frantically, Ethan once again stood in front of a urinal, pointing his dick at the bowl, but nothing happened. Despite the sheer volume of liquid inside of him, his bladder would not release. 

    “Come ON!” Ethan leaned forward and pounded his fist against the wall, to no avail. Panicked tears prickled his eyes. His heart continued to race, and he feared he would pass out if he stayed in the bathroom. 

    Stumbling out the door, hands pressed between his legs, no longer bothering to scan the hallway, Ethan shuffled forward, completely out of options. He couldn’t use the restroom like a normal person, no, and he couldn’t ask to leave, not that he’d make it until he got home, anyway. He leaked again, warm and glistening through his sweatpants, as if to underlie his mental calculus. Stupid Mexican sodas! 

    Shuffling forward, Ethan frantically tried several doors before he found one that was unlocked. He tripped forward, barely pushing at the door to close it behind him. In the last part of his brain not consumed with terror and desperation, he realized that he was in the chemistry lab. 

    Ethan lumbered about halfway across the room before lurching against one of the lab stations. He slid around the side of it, as if blocking his lower half from view of the door would somehow make this situation better. 

    “No, no…” Ethan couldn’t help but whining as his leaks became more frequent. He was scared, he was angry at himself for getting into this situation, and he was in pain. 

    Before he could think anymore, though, Ethan’s muscles gave out, and hot liquid gushed down his legs with almost mocking force. 

    Ethan sagged against the chemistry station as he wet himself, hanging his head in defeat. This was always what was going to happen, of course, and he’d known it from the minute he’d woken up on the couch. 

    His lower lip trembled, but he didn’t cry. The unfamiliarity of standing in a dark chemistry classroom at 3:30 in the morning served as a buffer to the worst of the humiliation of having an accident at age 18 in a technically public place. 

    The trickling sound of his accident seemed to echo through the empty room, and Ethan tensed with shame. The feeling of physical relief was nothing compared to the fury he felt at himself for allowing this to happen. 

    Out in the hallway, Mandy crept up the last stair and looked around. Still paranoid, she’d been making periodic checks of the Spanish classroom since Ethan had gone to sleep. When, at her last pass, she’d peeked in and seen him gone, she let herself get a bit nervous. 

    She’d done a quick scan of the remaining “group” rooms, and, having come up empty, decided to search the third floor. She glanced around the hallway and noticed one door slightly ajar. 

    The chemistry lab. 

    Mandy’s heart rate spiked, and she tried her hardest to remain rational as she slowly stepped toward the unlatched door. Just because the new kid, the one who wouldn’t give a straight answer, was in the chemistry lab in the middle of the night, when nearly every member of the senior class was literally locked in the building, didn’t mean he was doing something cruel, right? 

    Mandy paused outside the lab and listened. There was definitely someone in there; she could hear irregular breathing. She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. 

    Ethan’s head snapped up. He was standing about halfway across the room, half hidden behind a lab station. He looked horrified at being discovered, and Mandy felt her palms beginning to sweat. 

    “What are you doing in here?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice from shaking. 

    “N-nothing,” Ethan stammered, doing nothing to ease Mandy’s fears. 

    “You’re not supposed to be in here.” Mandy took one step forward, reaching into her back pocket for her phone. 

    “The door was open,” Ethan said, frozen by Mandy’s movement. She couldn’t see him, she couldn’t come any closer. 

    “You shouldn’t be in here,” Mandy repeated, walking a bit closer, one step at a time, like she was in a wedding processional. 

    “I just…wanted to see…” Ethan had no excuses. His brain was muddled and frantic, and all he wanted was for Mandy to stop moving toward him. 

    He couldn’t tell, but Mandy was just as frantic. Ethan’s erratic behavior was all but confirming her suspicions. 

    Each student looked in terror at the other, eyes wide, both petrified at what they thought was going to happen. 

    “You’re not allowed…”

    “I didn’t mean anything…”

    “Ethan, what are you doing?” 

    “Please stop…”

    “I can’t let you…”

    “No, please…”

    “You don’t have to do this…”

    “No, nooooo…”

    But Ethan’s pleas did nothing, and with one last forced step forward, Mandy stood in the aisle, staring directly at her classmate, finally able to take in the full scenario. 

    The safety lighting in the chemistry room was dim, but enough for Mandy to see Ethan’s soaked pants and the giant puddle on the tile floor. 

    “Oh!” she gasped. Her stomach flipped with relief, confusion, and secondhand embarrassment. She’d been so, so wrong.

    Ethan dropped his head, eyes welling with tears too numerous to hold back. His knees shook, and he braced himself against the lab station to keep from collapsing into his own mess. 

    “I…” Mandy gaped in the silence, ashamed of her own paranoia. “Ethan, I’m sorry.” 

    Ethan didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. 

    Mandy spoke again, compelled to explain herself. “I was scared. I was being unreasonable. I had convinced myself that you were, I don’t know, making a bomb or something, or hiding guns up here.” 

    She saw Ethan’s shoulders tense and felt even worse. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, voice small. “Ever since the Belden shooting, I’ve been super nervous about anything out of the ordinary. It’s stupid.” 

    Mandy stared, but Ethan’s head was still down. She thought she saw a tear drip off his chin, and she wondered if she should just leave. She was just about to turn away when Ethan spoke. 

    “It’s not.” 

    Mandy leaned forward, unsure if she’d head correctly. “What?” 

    “It’s not weird,” Ethan repeated, a bit louder, then sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He finally looked up at Mandy, and the broken, knowing look on his face took her breath away. 

    “It’s not weird to be scared.” 

    Mandy allowed the weight of his words to wash over her, and then she knew

    “You were there.” 

    Ethan paused for a second, and another tear slid down his cheek. Then he nodded. 

    “Oh, God.” Now Mandy felt even worse. Not only had she suspected a classmate with no real reasoning, she’d suspected a survivor. 

    Mandy’s heart ached, but her intense curiosity and search for the truth kept her speaking. “Is that why you didn’t want to come tonight?” 

    Ethan’s shoulders slumped. He’d told himself that this was exactly what he didn’t want to happen; he didn’t want anyone at St. Ben’s knowing where he’d come from, why he’d transferred. But now, standing in wet pants at nearly 4 in the morning, keeping his story bottled up didn’t seem like the best idea. 

    He rolled his neck back and forth. “Kind of,” he finally answered. “I…

    I was in the bathroom when it happened. You know, you hear these awful noises, and you don’t let yourself realize what they are right away, because how could there be gunshots, you know? Even though that’s a thing now,” he added bitterly. 

    “It was at the end of the school year, so, you know, we didn’t go back, and my parents were already looking for places to move, so I wouldn’t have to go back there, but then over the summer…” Ethan paused, embarrassed but compelled to continue. He took another deep breath. 

    “We toured a few schools over the summer, because we wanted to make sure I felt comfortable in the building and the staff understood what had happened, but then at one, I had to go to the bathroom, but when I got in there, I just…couldn’t.” 

    Ethan felt his face burn with shame at the admission, even though he’d already very obviously wet himself. He couldn't explain any more, even though he was pretty sure Mandy still didn't understand. She'd think it was just anxiety, PTSD or something, but it was more than that. He physically couldn't go in school bathrooms, and he hated himself for it. 

    After a few seconds, realizing there was no more to that particular bit of the story, Mandy spoke up. “So you just…never go at school?” 

    Ethan shook his head miserably. “I go right before I drive here, and then I just don’t drink anything, or not much of anything, during the day, so I never have to.” 

    “But…” Stunned by this new information, Mandy tried to understand. “…how were you planning on making it through the lock-in? It’s 17 hours!” 

    If possible, Ethan’s face fell even further. “My mom spoke to Miss Lockwood and got permission for me to leave at 8 AM,” he explained. “I thought I just had to make it til then.” 

    “And then Marisol brought the sodas,” Mandy filled in, everything clicking into place. 

    Ethan nodded, and a fresh batch of tears fell from both eyes. 

    “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I scared you.” 

    “Oh –“ Mandy couldn’t help but reach toward him. “Ethan, no. Please…it’s not your fault.” 

    Ethan blinked rapidly, futilely trying to clear the tears out of his eyes. Between his accident and his confession, he was exhausted and out of all ability to control his emotions. 

    “Look…” Mandy reached out again. “Ethan, let me help.” 

    Sniffling, child-like, Ethan looked up. 

    “Where’s your bag?” Mandy asked, quietly taking control. “Did you bring extra clothes?” 

    Ethan shook his head, crestfallen. “I…I didn’t think I’d be staying.”

    “That’s fine,” Mandy soothed. “I’ll sneak into the drama room. There’s bound to be something in there. Stay here,” she ordered. “I’ll be back soon.” 

    In the silence left by Mandy, Ethan sniffled deeply. Disgusted, he stepped out of his puddle and grabbed some paper towels from the cleaning station to clean up his accident. It was an obnoxiously big puddle, and by the time he was wiping up the last of it, Mandy slipped back in the lab. 

    “Here.” She laid a few options on the table, none of which were as bright or sparkly as Ethan had feared. 

    “I…” Ethan stared at the pants, knowing they didn’t solve all of his problems. He looked back up at Mandy, imploringly. 

    “I can’t stay,” he murmured. “What…what if I have to go again?” 

    Mandy tilted her head to the side, thinking. She knew better than to try to convince Ethan that it would be fine. 

    “Does Miss Lockwood know that you went to Belden?” she asked. Ethan nodded. “OK, then let me talk to her. I won’t tell her what happened!” Mandy insisted quickly, seeing Ethan’s anxious reaction.

    “I’ll just tell her that you’re uncomfortable being here. I’m sure she’ll let you go.” 

    Mentally, Ethan warred with himself for a few seconds, but the fear of having to pee again won out. “OK,” he whispered. 

    Mandy left to seek out the senior advisor, and Ethan quickly stripped off his sticky, cooling pants and underwear, reeling from the events of the last 45 minutes. He slipped on a pair of gray flannel pants, silently sending an apology to the arts department. 

    A few minutes later, Mandy returned, smiling softly. “Miss Lockwood said it’s fine,” she explained, and relief hit Ethan like a bucket of cold water. “She said she’d meet us downstairs to let you out the side door. You just have to promise to text when you get home.” 

    Ethan could only nod, nearly lightheaded with the consolation that he didn’t have to stay any longer. 

    Mandy was already walking toward the door, narrating soothing words. “No one will see us. Most everyone is asleep by now, and the ones that aren’t won’t be anywhere near the side door. Don’t worry.” 

    Downstairs, Miss Lockwood smiled encouragingly at Ethan and made no comment about the pants balled up in his arms. She unlocked the door, then respectfully stepped aside. 

    “Are you going to be OK?” Mandy asked, staring up at Ethan earnestly. 

    Ethan looked out toward the parking lot, the sense of impending comfort and freedom already easing the tightness in the back of his throat. He looked down at his unlikely rescuer. 

    “I will be.” 
 

Edited by Sapphire3619 (see edit history)
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On 1/27/2019 at 4:18 AM, AliasnameTO said:

Major props for taking one of the most horrific trends in recent history and using its presence for a touching story. I'm usually not a fan of omniscient POV, but aside from spoiling Ethan's intentions, it worked here.

On another note, somebody give that boy a goddamn hug!

Believe it or not, the omniscient POV was actually a deliberate choice this time; I wanted to try to highlight the nerves on both sides at the outset of the confrontation (which sounds...way more pretentious than I have any right to be over an omorashi one-shot :/)

On 1/27/2019 at 6:36 AM, bazinga said:

I'm so impressed by how you are able to make these stories plot-driven while adding omorashi to them as well. I loved this so much - for some reason, male angst is always my favorite type of story to read and you write them beautifully. Kudos!

Saaaaaaaaaaaame!!! I love male angst, and I'm gonna keep writing it as long as I have time and ideas. Thank you so much for all your incredible support!

On 1/27/2019 at 9:01 AM, GrangerDanger said:

Awesome, and I loved the storyline!

Aww, thank you! I was nervous about a more topical plot, so I'm glad you liked it!

On 1/27/2019 at 7:42 PM, Melificentfan said:

That was excellent 

Thank you so much!

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  • 2 weeks later...

Incredibly well written story with many layers to it. I am always amazed at the level of writing on here which is much better then the paper back novels you find for sale at the stores or read in the libraries.  combining male omo with the effects of ptsd is brilliant. your mind does strange things to your body and even what your seeing around you after traumatic events. military vets sometimes see scenes of battle around them even though they are at home looking at family members. Your brain will link events together making them one.  In this case the school shooting happening at the time he was using the bathroom made his brain link the two so now he is unable to go at school setting up this story very well. It would be awesome seeing more chapters on this story now that the back story has been set up  with him having to deal with the pressure at school and in sports and lifting and other activites. 

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On 1/27/2019 at 6:36 AM, bazinga said:

I'm so impressed by how you are able to make these stories plot-driven while adding omorashi to them as well. I loved this so much - for some reason, male angst is always my favorite type of story to read and you write them beautifully. Kudos!

I agree with this statement. And Male angst is something I read and write a lot as well.

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On 2/10/2019 at 3:08 AM, plas broek said:

I really love all your stories. You are absolutely my favorite writer on this site.

Thank you so much! That's so very kind, and I'm glad you enjoy my work! 

On 2/17/2019 at 10:21 PM, trackboy said:

Incredibly well written story with many layers to it. I am always amazed at the level of writing on here which is much better then the paper back novels you find for sale at the stores or read in the libraries.  combining male omo with the effects of ptsd is brilliant. your mind does strange things to your body and even what your seeing around you after traumatic events. military vets sometimes see scenes of battle around them even though they are at home looking at family members. Your brain will link events together making them one.  In this case the school shooting happening at the time he was using the bathroom made his brain link the two so now he is unable to go at school setting up this story very well. It would be awesome seeing more chapters on this story now that the back story has been set up  with him having to deal with the pressure at school and in sports and lifting and other activites. 

Thank you! I do like to have reasons for wetting beyond "can't hold it"

On 2/18/2019 at 5:27 AM, desperatewet said:

Poor guy. I just want to to give him a hug. 

This was an amazingly well written story.

On 2/18/2019 at 6:06 PM, desperatewet said:

I agree with this statement. And Male angst is something I read and write a lot as well.

Thank you! Most of my characters could use a good hug :) 

 

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