☩ вяιтση ℓєνι нα∂ιηgѕ ☩
"Who was it?" Nathan asked, and the question from him was enough to cause a sudden jolt in Briton's body, having not expected that in the least. Not from him, anyway.
"Who did that to your knees, Briton?" Nathan reiterated. He was saying what everyone was already thinking, sure, but couldn't he just leave it alone like they did? It was just something that happened, and it should just have been left alone in the first place!
Briton gritted his teeth, holding back emotional reactions as best he could. Too many eyes were on him, he couldn't take it. Turning his head back to the group, darting to Nathan's overwhelming intensity before quickly leaving his face and circling around to everyone else. Stop, he thought, far too on edge to make the words actually come out of his mouth. Just stop looking at me, already! His gaze darted back to the floor where no one stood, trying to pretend that no one else were there, pretend that those dreadful eyes weren't on him. His fists clenched, his eyes shut tightly for a moment. How in hell did Nathan expect him to answer that damned question? He wanted to hide. He wanted to run off to the bathroom and hide in one of the stalls. Maybe cry a little bit and wait for everyone else to leave. But no, when his emotions suddenly clicked in, digging their way out of the back of his mind and plowing their way through the synapses like a truck, it was a far different one than he expected.
Briton's face hardened, as he stood slowly, bringing a stern, green-eyed gaze directly over to Nate. "Oh? And what are you going to do with that information, huh?" He finally said. If it weren't for a slight crack to his voice, the emotion coming out of him could have been considered furious. "You're gonna beat them up? Teach them a lesson?" His words emerged as if it were such an obvious and irresponsible move.
"What? You're gonna be some big hero for saving me from the bad guys?" It wasn't too much longer before the sudden burst of emotion was beginning to wear down, but he tried his best to power through to the end of his rant. "Don't you realize that the more you fight back the harder they come? Do you really want to be responsible for causing me more pain?"
"It's my business," Briton continued, his gaze finally breaking while he settled back down in his seat and stared down at his knees, making busy about rolling up both of his pant legs properly, fulling showing off both of them, with bloodied gauze, while his voice slowly went back to being it's usual, quiet tone. "I haven't been sticking my nose in yours, now have I?" He gave a small sigh, feeling defeated and exhausted. "If you want to know, then whatever. Fine. It was Ryan Chaffon, but anyone in my class will back up the story that he accidentally bumped into me."
He hesitated a moment, biting his lip while he grabbed the gauze from the table in front of him, plopping it in his lap before beginning to unwrap the bloody bandages from his knees. His next words were more so of a mutter. "But if anyone really wants to beat someone up, you should go after Vic Rockford." He wadded up the filthy, bloody gauze and shoved it in his pocket without a care. "Not gonna explain why for that one, though."
Briton would have shuddered at that thought, coming back to his main sexual harasser. Maybe the guy was just getting out all of those pent up gay feelings by torturing someone else, but it certainly wasn't making things any better, and it wasn't making the idea of actually telling anyone about being gay any easier for Briton. For now, he'd just forget about it. Push it back and avoid it. Just another thing he wasn't going to deal with as long as he didn't have to.
He leaned over the table quickly, grabbing a wad of the napkins out of the holster against the wall before plopping back in his seat and using them to wipe up some of the blood that had accumulated. Hands going back to the fresh gauze, he made a quick effort to wrap his knees up again before they started bleeding again. He didn't look at any of his friends, didn't bother saying anything. He didn't want to deal with anyone else trying to 'help' him. Not like this. He felt like they were trying to attack him themselves, get rid of the middle man. Like gym class wasn't enough. Like bloody knees weren't enough. Like the damn taste in his mouth wasn't enough. Too bad Violet's leftover milkshake hadn't been enough to wash away that memory. He still felt like he needed to brush his teeth.
Briton looked up, having finished his quick job of tying up his wound, just in time to see Violet, a stern, dead-serious look on her face. It was actually a bit intimidating, but Briton was far too tired to shy away from her. At least he could tell she wasn't in one of those moods about going on some hero rampage right this minute, or some joke to try and cheer him up. "Come to the party." She suddenly urged, and Briton's gaze quickly averted from her. "Gotta talk to you about stuff. It's important, okay? Gotta get stuff off my chest. You know? We can just hang in a quiet corner or some crap, okay?"
She put a hand on Briton's shoulder, giving him a firm shake to make sure her message got through. But still, partying wasn't his thing. Maybe he was a little safer hanging out with his friends, but after everything today, that wasn't much of a reason to go.
"I'll think about it," He muttered softly in response to her, not bringing his gaze away from that safe place where no one else from the group was standing until she had moved along, off to prompt the girls to get going.
Sighing, Briton turned his gaze back to his guy friends around the table, almost all of whom, were sort of pissing him off. Giving a glance at Oz one more time, however, and thinking about how the girls were leaving, he was remembering about all of them (unless they really wanted to walk) needing a ride. He supposed he could tolerate the short ride, as long as none of them talked to him, maybe he could make it home without having a mental breakdown and getting in a car accident. But then... His eyes went to Nate for a small moment, before darting back. He was just plain mad at Nate for deciding to call him out when everyone else knew better than to go any further than scoffing or rolling their eyes. If Nate needed a ride, Briton was almost going to be tempted to say he could ride in the trunk. Well, almost. Too bad.
"I guess since the girl's are ditching, I'm the only other option for you guys aside from walking is my car, huh?" He finally said, rolling down his pant legs before leaning back in chair and staring at his hands in front of him, picking at his nails uncomfortably. It better be a damn quiet ride. "Up to you guys what you're gonna do."