The pupils were quick to circle around the two of you, Clapton was on the ground, curled into a ball and grasping his stomach, his nose trickling red onto the black and white tiles. You were pretty bruised up yourself, surprisingly. He sat up slowly and looked up at you, panting, chest heaving and his hair over his eyes before standing back up with a grunt. He held his fists up before a more deeper voice called both of your names, and on cue you both looked, only to see Principal Verge.

After the hell that was Verge screaming at the two of you, he ordered you take Clapton to the nurses to sort out his bloody nose that was somehow still bleeding. You sat awkwardly outside the nurses office, Clapton holding a tissue horribly against his nose, it was still dripping blood all over his lower face, you wondered how the hell you managed that.