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"Briton, you might be upset with me because I put you on the spot all of the sudden, but I only asked because I was concerned..." It was Nate again, continuing on and trying to justify the purpose of why he'd bothered to bring up the topic, why he'd dared to say anything to Briton about a topic he knew was better left untouched. Frankly, Briton cared little for Nate's reasoning at this point. It didn't matter. Briton didn't care that it was out of concern or caring, he didn't care if talking to someone was supposed to 'make things better,' or whatever, he just wanted people out of his business. Being treated like a helpless little damsel in distress was agonizing enough when it came down to his friends intervening whenever they caught someone in the act of bullying him, and Briton was positive it was a position many girls didn't even want to be in these days! Why couldn't they just leave him be to fight his own battles? Save his own damn self? Well, perhaps because he couldn't.
"And as for what I'm going to do, well... I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." Briton finally made an effort to look up at his friend just in time to see him give a light shrug. Briton didn't like the way Nate had phrased that in the least, though. Not making a plan and even going so far as to leave it all up to the impulse of a moment? It was even stupider than the idea of Nate trying to intervene in the first place.
Briton let his gaze sink back away once again, dropping down to his lap. He didn't have anything to say at this point, and he was sure that even if he tried, all that would come out would be an inaudible murmur. For Christ's sake, Nathan, even overly-concerned-all-the-time Amber fucking knew better to say a single thing about Briton's knees when she'd finally arrived back at the table. It wasn't important, and now, after all those eyes on him and all that attention, and that sudden outburst, he wasn't even sure he could get a sentence to come out correctly. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to look at anyone. Part of him wanted to sink away and hide until all of his friends were gone and none of them were even passing him a glance anymore. Still, he put forth the effort to look around the table from time to time, and as his eyes lifted once more, he caught Nate just as he tapped down his hand on Oz's shoulder.
"Hey, mind taking a walk with me? Seems like the girls are gonna be waist-deep in Narnia once they reach Lacey's closet, and Briton's probably too irked to wanna give me a ride home, so I'd appreciate the company." Nate said, and Briton's heat instantly sank down even lower. Nate was taking Oz, and Oz, as was expected, agreed without a single protest. Briton's eyes averted again, not caring about the sudden, visible slump in his shoulders. How. Damn. Pathetic. Briton really knew he had to get his mind off of this guy, but for some reason, he just couldn't help it. Which was doubly annoying, and made him doubly mad at Nate for being closer friends with Oz than he was. Which, then, circled back around to make Briton feel pretty pathetic again.
Nate's steps were almost to the door when Briton heard his name again, coming from, who'd have fucking guessed, Nathan. Briton looked over his shoulder meekly, eyes narrowed, lips pouted, while Nate's words came out. "And Briton... I know I don't really have the right to involve myself in your life after being so distant with everyone, but..." He gave a small pause, staring hard at Briton, a look which made Briton shift his eyes away, even if he left himself still facing Nate. He was tired of eye contact. Why couldn't they just stop looking? "Nobody fucks with my friends..."
Why should you care so much when even I don't? Briton thought bitterly, turning back to face the table while Nathan continued to say some departing words to Violet, about seeing her at the party and whatever.
"See you guys at the party," Oz had suddenly said, and Briton's eyes went up again, honing right in on Oz's sweet, friendly face just as it met his. That gentle hand reached down and, though the result of the action was much undesirable, Briton gave a small smile, just barely turning up the corners of his mouth as Oz's hand connected with his head and tousled his hair every which way imaginable. He was still smiling faintly to himself while Oz said his last goodbyes and followed after Nathan, while Briton raked his hands back through his hair to shove those long, half-blonde strands back behind his ears and out of the way. He had that look on his face like when someone is trying their hardest not to smile. He was angry for Christ's sake! He was upset... He didn't have time to be thinking about that kind of stuff, or getting flustered over something he shouldn't be getting flustered over in the first place. And yet here he was. It took him a moment to drop the smile, regain that emotionless facade, aside from that sad look in his eyes.
"Let's get this show on the road." Charlie suddenly interjected, drawing Briton's attention back to what was going on. Both Charlie and Sam would still be taking the ride from him, and he had to keep himself together for at least as long as it would take to get them home. Briton found him nodding at the comment absentmindedly while he stood slowly from his seat and pushing it in under the edge of the table even though he knew very well it didn't belong at the end of that booth.
Another Jolt came to him - no, not a jolt, just a gentle nudge from Charlie, thought it still managed to make Briton jump slightly, being caught off guard by the action. "You know you can talk to me right?" Charlie said, a kind smile spread across his face. Briton could tell the guy was concerned, for sure. He kind of felt bad, but... It was his business after all. He didn't have to talk to anyone if he didn't want to, and that was a fact. He didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, really! Even if maybe he was the type to cave in for fear they'd give him too much attention if he didn't comply. "That is what friends are for."
The last comment struck Briton with a tinge of guilt with the emphasis on friends. Sure, maybe Charlie was feeling guilty for the stupid reason of having not been so open about caring about Briton or something along those kinds of ridiculous lines, but it almost felt like an accusation. Here were these friends of Briton's, and he couldn't even manage to open up to them. Not in a single of his lives had he died without taking his secret to the grave - though perhaps some just sort of "knew" on instinct that he was gay and didn't bring it up, who could say - and not a single time in being bullied when his friends weren't there to see it did he even bring it up. Were they mad about that? Deep down was Briton just a frustration to them that they couldn't even find a way to connect with him, or help him out? Still, it wasn't going to make opening up to them and telling them everything any easier. Maybe they wanted to help, but really... what were they going to think?
"I call shotgun." Charlie said suddenly, breaking Briton away from his paranoia. At least the topic was gone and out of the way, and Briton gave a small tilt up to the corner of his lips at the departing Charlie, scampering out the front door to go and wait by the old Camry outside.
Briton gave a look over his shoulder at Sam, giving as lighthearted a shrug as he could. "Guess it's time to hit the road, huh?" Briton let out a small sigh, facing forward again and heading out the same way, taking a few deep breaths to be sure he was going to handle himself well enough for driving. He pulled the keys from his pocket, shoving them in the driver's side door and turning until the doors on all sides unlocked, allowing the two other boys to slide in; Sam into the backseat and Charlie into the passenger seat. Briton quickly grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat just in the nick of time before Charlie was sliding in, and promptly pulled his ipod from the front pocket before tossing the heavy bag full of books into one of the back seats next to Sam where it was a little more out of the way. He started the car quickly, next, before turning his attention over to the radio, plugging his ipod into the jack so that the auxiliary would play rather than the radio, an upgrade to the car which his brother had worked for hours on when Briton had first gotten the thing.
"You guys'll just have to suffer through some of my music for the short ride. Hope you don't mind." Briton said, finally bringing his voice up to a somewhat normal - or at least, normal for him - tone as he pulled up his most recent playlist and let it start before setting his ipod down and pulling out just as "Hard Smart Beta" by Starfucker started playing. At least music could distract him a little on the ride home. Make him a little less on edge, perhaps. Sure, the mix was full of who the hell could guess what, and no one could ever be sure exactly what would pop up next, but most of it was in... relatively good taste. Um.... most of it was. Some, on the other hand was extremely questionable.
By the time he'd pulled out of the parking lot, however, the short song had ended, and "Problem" by Natalia kills had started playing instead. Okay there was one of the questionable ones, he knew they were in there somewhere. He would have reached over and skipped it, what with the guys in his car and all, but... He was driving, and with his emotions already shaky enough, he didn't want to risk distracting himself from the task at hand. He hated driving enough. He decided against apologizing about the song, in hopes that they were just too distracted or whatever to actually question the lyrics. Either way, the song wouldn't last forever, and by the time the car pulled up to Sam's place, the song had changed to "Breezeblocks" by Alt-J.
"Bye, Sam," Briton called after his departing friend while he slipped out and headed towards his house. He bit his lip a moment, fighting against the urge to continue to ignore that even if Briton didn't like it, the guy had done something for him, and Briton had still refused to acknowledge it. Finally, just before losing the small window of opportunity to do so, he opened his car door window threw out some small, if not somewhat grumbly, words of gratitude. "And... Thanks. For the gauze and shit, by the way..."
He sighed, feeling a bit mentally exhausted. Yeah, more like thanks for butting your way into something that didn't need any more assistance! I would have taken care of it when I got home, Briton thought bitterly as he rolled the window up and pulled away from the curb. It would have been fine...
His eyes traveled over to Charlie for a split second, before they darted back to the street. "Alright, next to drop you off at your place."