Charles Hill's Story

Finally Paige decided to join us, leaving us with only one friend less; Cora. I didn't know where the girl might be, but it was probably somewhere peaceful, where she could draw without interruption. That was often the case with her, and I totally understood. While I didn't ever draw in order to calm my nerves or lower any stress, I have noticed that it tends to take your mind off of things in a very interesting way. The focus it requires, when uninterrupted, can be used as a form of therapy in a way. Whatever the case, it didn't seem like she would be joining us.

After my invitation to Violet for some quality time with me in the near future, the girl in question began stammering her refusal, seeming tense. This made my heart ache with something my mind didn't understand. At first I thought that it was plain old guilt ebbing away at the hold I had over my conscience, but I knew that feeling all too well by this point, and it wasn't that. Perhaps there was something buried in the recesses of my current identity that was influencing my overall feelings towards Violet. I, myself, only ever saw her as a close friend, but that isn't to say that who I am in this life doesn't have stronger feelings for the girl he grew up with. Honestly, it would make sense... This made everything about my current situation all the more annoying. I had no idea how I was supposed to avoid it all without causing some kind of pain to either her or Nathan... And it should go without saying that anything that affects the person I used to be before I regained my memories will also directly affect me in the long-run... I really don't need, nor have the time, for such distractions at the moment... This had to end soon, or else it could prove to cause me even more trouble in the near future.

Putting Nathan's feelings aside for the moment, I listened to what Violet had to say, as well as Lacey, who I gave a troubled crease of my eyebrows as I frowned in an odd way while she spoke. She used rather blunt words, but each one spoken were clearly coming from how she truly felt about my antisocial behavior. No matter how shallow a friendship one might think the two of us share, Lacey's soul has been with me, like all the others present, for over a hundred years, and it was obvious that she still cared enough to get my ass moving, even if it was to some stupid party. But it wasn't just her, either... Maybe not everyone here, simply because not everyone here, like myself, wanted to go to this party either, but I got the feeling that Lacey, Violet and Oz weren't the only ones getting fed up with my shut-in lifestyle...

So no one seemed as though they were okay with me sitting the party out. Not Lacey, who I thought had given up on trying to get me to join her and the others on different occasions, and especially not Violet. It was obvious to me that it was rather obvious to them that I was purposely avoiding them, but I knew for a fact that they didn't know why. And how could they? After all, I've never told them a damn thing... Oz was now in on whatever it was that Violet was currently planning, so the odds of me getting out of this situation appeared very low. Oz had nothing to lose from agreeing to help Violet and had everything to gain, what with him being presented an excellent excuse to spend time with me. At this point, I was certain that there was an 90% probability that I would be going to that party...

Sighing, I defiantly leaned back in my seat, my body tilting to the side slightly as I looked around the table while fiddling with my thumbs. A few eyes were on me, while others were looking elsewhere. After giving it some thought, I realized that refusing them this time around would prove to be more troublesome for me in the very near future. I simply had more to gain from keeping my friends relatively pleased with me, than I would if I refused them now. I was going to need them happy and accepting of me for when things start to get difficult, and I wasn't going to have that luxury if I ditched them yet again -- especially after all this protesting from multiple people. And I'm not talking about just the ones who actually voiced their wishes, either... Flipping my hands a bit in a show of sour defeat, I rolled my eyes. "Fine... I'll call in and let my boss know that I'm taking one of my vacation days early..." I said, looking over at Violet before giving her the words she was so desperately waiting for me to say. "You win..." I let out a submissive scoff and smile slightly.

With that out of the way, things around the table seemed to get slightly more cheerful, which made me feel awkward. Like I didn't belong. Now that things had taken a new direction, it didn't take long before someone else spotted and even went so far as to direct attention to Briton's current bloody state. As chance would have it, that person happened to be Charlie. I looked over at him before moving my eyes to the person he was addressing, along with every other pair of eyes around the table. Before the poor boy could refuse the attention, on of his pant legs was shoved up above his now prominently bleeding knee, which caused him to grasp the hand of his current 'attacker', so to speak; obviously embarrassed as he looked away from each of his friends. I scowled upon seeing just how bad his knees were. This was beginning to get out of hand... Even if the others couldn't, I could see the inner workings of fate locking into place as time flowed on. The game's board was currently being set up, and its pieces and obstacles aligned as the players went on, not knowing any better. This had to be stopped before it began, and I was the only one who could see how serious it truly was, along with the seemingly regular issues that everyone else had going for them...

Closing my eyes for a few seconds as Sam began talking to Briton about treating his injuries whilst setting various medical supplies upon the table, I slowly walked myself through what was going to happen next. A few short minutes passed by, and I felt that I covered every scenario that could possibly take form over the can of worms I was about to open with Briton, who I knew wanted to simply fade away whenever he was at the center of attention, I open my eyes. And for the first time in what felt like a very long time, I openly pried into something one of my friends was going through...

"Who was it?" I ask Briton, my eyes trained on him. My question clear enough to break any silence or interrupt any on-going conversation around me, I felt the eyes of more than a few people look my way. Ignoring them, I rephrase my question. "Who did that to your knees, Briton?" Everyone around me knew just as well as I did that Briton did not just "fall". I was fed up with how he was being treated, and whether he liked it or not, I needed to address this before it got out of hand. Like it almost always does... It hurt knowing that I was likely making my friend feel incredibly uncomfortable, but I pushed through it. Whether he told me who it was or not, I would find out. However, it was always easier to get information straight from the source of an investigation. And in this case, that source happened to be Briton Hadings.

"What party are we talking about?" Oz asked, mirroring Paige's curiosity and also seeming to be unaware of the party.

Paige glanced over at him brightened by his words, happy that she wasn't the only one who hadn't been told about the event. His head was tilted slightly to the side and he was slumped in his chair.


"Well, as I was saying, Max is throwing a party tonight. It's gonna be awesome. I'm the DJ -duh, and there's gonna be drinks and dancing and fun. And everyone is requried to come. Everyone. And don't give me no bullshit about work. Especially you, Nate. I take your excuses on a regular basis and tonight, you're gonna get loose. You're so frickin' serious." Lacey explained making Paige smile at the idea of everyone hanging out together. It had been a while since they had all hung out together. Everyone together, not little side groups like Lacey and Amber hanging out together, no everyone together as a unit. Even now they were missing Cora, keeping them from calling this outing a group outing where everyone showed up. It just seemed like latley the group was slowly starting to drift apart to Paige.

Taking in their small group Paige bit her lip. How much longer are we even going to be here, she wondered as her eyes trailed over everyone in the group.

Deja-vu was starting become a very frequent word in Paige's vocabulary. It started when she was a child. Minor things like walking in the park, or hanging out with some of her friends sparking small memories of her doing things in the past. She had only brushed it off not thinking much of it until her seventeenth birthday. The horrid memory of her first death hit her like a speeding train. She could still feel the feeling of bullets piercing her skin as she slowly faded from the world. Why had she come back? Why had any of them come back, she would never understand. All she knew was that she wanted to be rid of the curse that loomed over her and her friends. She just wanted to die, yes it sounded weird, but the constant on going of life was tiring she wanted the eternal sleep that every human being was promised when they were brought into this world.

"I fell is all." The icy words of Briton made Paige look over to him as she watch Charlie fuss over him.

Paige scoffed lightly. "Sure you fell." Paige said eyeing him through squinted eyes, it was obvious to her that he was lying.

"If there's still any rocks in them, use rubbing alcohol before things start to close. Hurts like hell but it works. Mine was confiscated though, sorry. " Paige watched as Sam put half a roll of gauze and a bottle of aspirins on the table.

A small smile crept across her face as she watched Sam. He seemed concerned about Briton as he kept his eyes on the boy.

"Wasn't that sweet of you?" Paige said softly, lightly pinching Sam's cheek.

Paige had always known he was a sweet boy, though it didn't much show it's side with his distant attitude.

Throwing an arm around Sam's neck she pulled him slightly closer to her, her voice became quieter, speaking as if, what she was saying was a secret between the two.

"You do know your going to the party." She said simply, looking directly at him.

If it wasn't for her constant focus on school and sports Paige could even say she had a crush on Sam, but then again having these feelings might drive Sam into his shell, so she all together left the idea out of her head.

Returning her arm to her own space she sneakily stole one of Lacey's fries.

"I'm up for the party and the raid." Paige nodded approvingly, trying to keep herself from glancing at her backpack where an English essay sat waiting to be written.

Samuel Westhouse

Briton's face had tensed up. Stubborn boy. Sam could understand that he didn't like people fussing over him, hey, he didn't like it either, but flesh wounds were serious, and did need attention. Especially since he was bleeding enough to stain the knees of his jeans. Blood out of denim would be difficult to clean out too. He made no response when the boy gritted out some words trying brush away the attention. Sam could see his jaw working closed. Well even if he wanted to bravely refuse help, Sam wasn't taking his stuff back until the blond had cleaned himself up. Open, bleeding wounds could get infected easily if they weren't cleaned regularly. and if his knees, Sam could now see that both of his knees were bleeding, got infected, that could lead to some serious troubles down the road.

The rest of the group had jumped in by now, and it was Nate who asked what everyone was probably thinking. Who was it. Sam wanted to know too. He tried not to be a violent individual, preferring to keep himself reserved and quiet, but if someone thought they could push on of his friends around he would be more than happy to beat the snot out of them. Let them pick on someone their own size for a change. He could handle them, and he didn't mind if they wanted to beat on him because he could give what he got in equal measure, and words had stopped bothering him long ago. His recklessness was so quiet it was difficult to see, but it was still there, mingled with his need for adrenaline and competition. He was a sleepy boy, and his countenance hid things, but that was just the way he was.

Before anything else could happen, either another refusal from Briton or an admittance, Sam was assailed from his other side. Paige got her fingers on his cheek, pinching his face playfully. Wasn't that sweet of him. His face went a bit red, partially because of her playful nearness and partially at her words. He wouldn't refuse being called sweet, on some level it was true, but at the same time he wouldn't admit such a thing. Yeah he cared about his friends, maybe he was a bit too invested for his tastes, and some might call it sweet, but he called it duty. Friendship. It was his job in this relationship with this ragtag group of friends. He didn't contribute in words, so he had to do what he could to stay useful.

Paige slung her arm all the way around his neck, pulling him nearer, her voice dropping in volume. She informed him in short terms that he was going to the party, her eyes fixed on him. He screwed up his mouth. He really didn't want to go the party. No thank you. No. Thank. You. But Paige would give him grief if he didn't, and maybe he wanted to make her happy, or maybe it felt good that she wanted him to go. He would go. He probably wouldn't have a good time, but he'd go. As part of his obligations as a part of the group. That didn't stop him from sighing and rolling his eyes at her as she swiped a fry and added a contributed to the part preparation conversation.

With a slight movement and a flick of his wrist and swiped his soccer ball from her and responded in equal tone and volume. "Fine, I'll go. But you'll owe me, Parker!" He teased, then dropped the ball under his chair, stopping it with one foot. His attentions were still halfway on the tensions emanating from Briton, because he really did want to know who thought it was okay to go pushing people around and tearing them up. Because that was not okay with him.

She won. Of course she won, has Vi ever lost? Well, yes, obviously, but that's besides the point. The point is, that, she won. She beat Nate's goddamn avoidance games, trusting his best buddy Oz to bring him to the party in a stranglehold if need be. And, she kind of wanted to see it. A damn awesome sight it'd be, Oz just wheeling Nate in, with his arms round his neck, giving him no option but to come and maybe futilely resist. It was hard to suppress the laugh- not only because of her epic victory, but because Amber also smiled back at her. And things, while not right, they'd never really be right, but well. It was normal. It was how it should be; the status quo. And that's goddamn awesome, in her opinion, because if the status quo ever shattered, she really couldn't picture herself talking to anyone other than Nate and Lace for sure, with the occasional Amber and Oz. And she really liked everyone else, although she didn't have really any common ground with them. Possibly Charlie, but that'd be a stretch. And only because they were both outgoing.

But of course, the status quo, like everything, shattered in an instant; gone in no time at all. And the instigator of it was Charlie giving notice to Briton's goddamn bloody knee. Things happened in a flash while a rare but surely quiet rage built up inside of Vi's volatile heart. Briton stammered and tried to deny it in his own why - not unlike she did when her own bloody hand was put on spotlight-, while Sam gauzed it up as best as he could with the random assorted crap bundled up in that bag- why the heck did he even have that in his bag? It came in handy, at least, and maybe even showed Briton that, yes, he had friends, and yes, they cared a whole hell of a lot over his well being, and that he could confide. But heck, what was she thinking? It's not like she confided to any of the others about her super hero mode.

Well, maybe it'll change. I tell wimpy boy about my fights, then he opens up to me about who does this shit to him Then I'll go and knock their heads!

But first, she needed an opportunity to pull it off. And, unfortunately, she had her night slated to trying to seduce Nate... although she could just hold off on that. Not like she's particularly good at being feminine anyways- hell, she figures she shoulda just been born a guy and bypass the monthly hip aches and boobs aches and other stuff. Amber then got up and left to the toilet, after giving Lacey a significant look- and Violet decided to try and put her plan into motion. Maybe just give Nate up for the redheaded Amber. At least she belonged in this stupid dumpy town. Unlike her. At least she didn't have to be afraid of Rope Guy, unlike her.

Hell no. Nate's mine... I won't get beaten by my own thoughts, at least!

Vi stood up abruptly and walked up to the boy that should have been a girl, and looked at him meaningfully- urgently. Hoping he realized that it wasn't just one of her stupid crazy jokes; that for once, Vi could be serious. Because she's real serious now; a super hero doesn't let asshole bad guys beat up on anyone- let alone a close friend! They'd pay. They'd have to pay. It's only right. Violet would make sure she made it right. Her first clenched, leaving behind red marks where the nails dug deep into the soft sensitive skin.

They'll be sorry. They'll beg for mercy. I won't give them none. Not one bit. I'll destroy them.

"Come to the party." She said softly, almost pleadingly to Briton. "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 shook his shoulder lightly, hoping that she got the message.

They won't get away with it. They'll never think of touching you again.

Then her cue to return back to the wacky crazy Violet arrived- Amber came back on scene from her little bathroom break, looking at least a little bit more at east as she asked the waiter out to the party- why would she? Didn't she like Nathan? Was it a trick to try and make Nate jealous? Curious and distracted, she eyed Nathan almost threateningly, gauging his reaction to Amber's move. And after that, she shrugged and turned to her singing buddy.

"Let's go raid that closet now." She said eagerly, gesturing at the door, and anxious to get the show on the road. "C'mon, Lace, let's go. This diner's gettin' pretty boring anyways, am I right?"

"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."

My intrusive question as to who Briton's attackers were was answered by the man in question, albeit rather reluctantly, or a better way of putting it; angrily. And it wasn't just the way he answered, either, but the actual words he used that hit a little deep. After all, it was true. And the truth does hurt... Briton has never put me on the spot regarding my hidden agenda, nor over anything else for that matter, and yet, here I was forcing everyone's attention onto the poor guy, despite knowing how scopophobic he could often be, as well as prone to embarrassment whenever his life was at the center of conversation. I didn't do it because I enjoy watching him squirm, unlike someone I know who just loves doing that to me... No, I did it because I needed to know who might end up trying to kill him.

"Hm..." That was all my voice could sound. A simple, low "hm" in response to his minor retaliation, which he didn't even choose to follow up on in the end. Before anyone could direct their attention to me, however, Briton surprisingly submitted and gave out the names of his bullies. I wasn't surprised to hear the first name, but Vic Rockford...? I'd never seen nor heard of this guy ever bullying other students, so why was he messing with Briton...? Pushing that thought aside for now, I chose to focus on what was immediately important: there were more than just 3 people messing with Briton... I knew of only 3; one of which was Ryan Chaffon, who I've heard some particularly justifiable rumors about in the halls of our school, and who I have actually witnessed harming others, but it was clear that there were only a couple of physical bullies at most, who were messing with Briton. Any others were likely nothing more than verbal abusers, which can sometimes be even worse than causing someone physical pain, depending on who it is and what is said to them. So that begs the question: just what was it that Vic Rockford did to Briton that could place him at the top of his hate list? It had to be something he found to be worse than physical or verbal abuse... Public humiliation maybe? No, that can't be it... We all would have heard about it by now if that was what happened... Giving my head a slight shake, I discarded the reasoning. It didn't matter what it was that happened; all that mattered was that whatever it was left an apparent mental scar on Briton, and the son of a bitch responsible didn't deserve to get away with it.

My thoughts drifted back to Briton's own question. What was I going to do with this information...? Obviously, whatever it took to get them to leave my friend alone, but if it did come down to opening the doors to the school of hard knocks, I was confident that I could hold my own against either of Vic Rockford or Ryan Chaffon. That being said, I wasn't foolish enough to allow any possible hubris to take root within me, which is why I wouldn't be tackling this alone. There was only one person whom I could trust to back me up with both sound reasoning and stature, and with their fists if absolutely necessary; no matter how much of a passive he was... My eyes locked onto my best friend, Oz, who I was certain would be more than happy to accompany me on a walk so we could discuss this. Hell, he would likely jump at the excuse just to chat with me at all, what with how much of an antisocial ass I've been to him, of all people, over the past year or so...

I was honestly glad that Violet, too, decided to jump in and express her concerns openly to our friend-in-need. If there was one person out of this bunch that Briton could wholly rely on for aid in fending off harassment, it'd be this girl. She was beyond loyal, and has proven how tough she can be more than just a few times. Makes me wanna when I recall how many boys I've seen get their asses kicked on the playground when I was growing up with her. She jumped the gun with a lot of people she thought were bad, but her heart was in the right place for sure, and God help any poor soul she knew to be bad... Even if I were to do nothing on my end to help Briton, as long as he has Vi watching his back, things would work out just fine for him in the end. Of that I was sure. After all, she's never let me down. Not for anything...

Realizing I was remaining entirely silent throughout Briton's information about what happened to him and who caused it, I figured I may as well wrap up my rather simple 'interrogation' of one of my oldest friends. I only stayed so silent because nothing else needed to be said, really, since all I was looking for was a name -- or in this case, name(s). But that was when Amber came back from her bathroom break, appearing fairly giddy over something. Didn't take me long to realize just what it was she was holding in her hand, which she confirmed by announcing it to everyone at the table. Great... So the waiter was coming to the party I didn't want to go to... On top of that, Briton was sending me several dark vibes of obvious anger, which, to be quite honest, made me feel like shit despite my good intentions. It was sort of similar to what I'd imagine feeling from everyone at the table -- as well as Cora who wasn't currently there -- should I ever tell them the truth... It tied knots in my stomach, which had no relation to the nauseating feeling that was still churning within the bottom of my stomach which was the result of the finished milkshake sitting in front of me.

Before I could stop myself, I made a rather annoying sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a click of my tongue... "Tch..." Oops. It was rather loud and obvious as to who it came from, especially since I was also wearing a bit of a grimace. 3 strikes; you're out, kiddo. That was the third time I had mistakenly let my feelings show towards this...waiter business... And I highly doubted that it would be overlooked again. I'm never that lucky... Clearing my throat, I stood up and placed my hands in my pockets. Closing my eyes for a moment before letting out a small sigh, I chose to speak to Briton once more, giving him the response I meant to give a minute ago before Amber threw my mind into a short loop. "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..." I said, pausing for a moment before continuing. "And as for what I'm going to do, well... I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it." I throw up a small shrug and slide out from the table after placing the money for my beverage on the table, then proceeding to tap Oscar on the 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." I finished, giving him a friendly smile.

Whatever the case, I slowly walked over to the door that was just behind the back-end of the seats where our table was located. Pausing, I pull out my watch and check the time as I give Briton another response. "And Briton... I know I don't really have the right to involve myself in your life after being so distant with everyone, but..." I paused, closing my watch with a click as I looked up into his eyes, trying to convey how I truly felt. "Nobody fucks with my friends..." Giving him an affectionate smile that said something along the lines of "Got it?", I then nodded at Violet. "See you at the party, Vi. After all, it appears that I owe you a dance?" Tossing a playful wink in her direction, I waved goodbye to the others, my eyes trained on Amber for a moment out of reflex before leaving the scene. Once outside, I look up and take in the now orange sky; the clouds in the distance were giving off a beautiful pink hue. Taking in a deep breath through my nose as I close my eyes, I let out a lengthy sigh, opening my eyes again with a melancholic smile on my face. Despite taking in the beautiful image above, I just couldn't stop thinking about how bad this night might turn out for me in the end...

Still leaning back in his seat, Oz watched the conversation erupt around him prompted by the simple party question. It was not wholly bizarre that they were being given their marching orders by Lacey if only to see her DJ, her musical endeavors were widely known within the small town and, when he could help it, Oz had no trepidations about showing up to whatever venue was lucky enough to snag her just to show his support in his own little way. Still, he hadn't really thought that she'd have time for any DJing this year, especially as college applications were being sent in and students and parents alike waited breathlessly next to their mailboxes for acceptance letters that may or may not be coming. This was doubly true for Lacey's family from what he'd seen of them in their years of friendship(which, admittedly, wasn't too much since there was always that underlying feeling of disapproval from them that was usually hidden behind false smiles). He'd been hearing about Stanford since before he knew what it was, mysterious adjectives swirling around such conversations like "prestigious" and "honored" that sailed right over his head as a child. Did she really have time to indulge in her music with the apparently all-seeing eyes of Stanford boring into her? Then again, Lacey was smart as a whip, so he knew that she'd have to trouble getting in.

He would probably end up going to the party tonight simply because he had no excuse not to. It wasn't as if he was socially awkward, not by a long shot with his ability to strike up a conversation with just about anyone, but he was just too content to sit around wherever was comfortable and it took a little prompting to drag him out to do things. He wasn't a go-getter like almost everyone else in their little group of friends and that was fine. Well, he thought it was fine and quickly pushed it away whenever any doubt sneaked into his thoughts by calling someone to chat or doing a bit of yoga.

Violet suddenly broke into a giggling fit and his lazy smile widened because, of course, the cause of it was Nate. The bizarre little love triangle between his three friends was a source of amusement for Oz if only because it was so darn typical at this point that it was almost cliche. Violet always seemed to be so convinced that her crush was secret, self assured in a way that only teenaged girls could be, with Amber not so far behind. As for Nate, well, in recent months Oz wasn't even sure if Nate was paying attention to being the center of affection. It was like one of those teenage drama shows Mary obsessed about and Ellie scorned with a passion, their friendships entangling into a twisted knot of hormones, social problems, and a delicate balance that no one could quite understand or explain.

His attention was forcibly ripped from a stammering Violet holding back a blush and Amber returning with a secretive sort of smile by a sudden exclamation beside him. Charlie had pulled up Briton's pant leg in one sudden and unexpected movement to reveal a nasty looking wound with blood oozing past the gauze. All of a sudden there was chaos, almost everyone's attention turned to Briton who was, Oz was sure, less than happy about this sudden turn of events. Everyone was a little overprotective of Briton, the boys in the group in particular as witnessed with Charlie's tutting, Sam's pulling out something like a jock's first-aid kit out of seemingly nowhere, and Nate's calm assertion that it wasn't an accident.

Of course it wasn't an accident. That fact was clear and upsetting enough as the smile withered on Oz's face into a gaze of concern, green eyes filled with an obvious worry, emotions flitting clearly on his face as they always did. That Briton was being bullied wasn't news to any of them, sadly enough, even if Oz tried to hope that it had stopped or at least slithered to a standstill at this point in their high school career. He'd caught it enough times to be worried even if Briton insisted that it wasn't that bad, that he could deal with. And Oz was fine with that insistence, choosing to mother hen Briton in his own Oz-like way by offering wordless comfort, a cuddle when necessary, but never picking at the problem itself unless Briton wanted to talk. He never did and Oz was never sure if he was doing the right thing by not being more aggressive in finding the root of the problem, but that was just the way he was. He was a comforter and the very idea of confronting instead made his stomach twist in knots.

Briton's response to their prompting was exactly why Oz didn't like bringing up the subject, the smaller boy's words harsh and brutally true. But, in the end, he gave up some names which might be enough to cool down some of the group or, in the case of Violet who already seemed to be forming some revenge plot, inflame their passions even more. Then, as if to show there were no hard feelings for them prying into something he was less than ready to talk about, he offered them a ride.

A ride. Relief was the first thought to come to Oz's mind because, yes, he had been dreading the long(ish) walk home weighted down with books and binders galore. He took a sip of his milkshake, the drink having melted just a little bit in its styrofoam cup when he'd forgotten it in the midst of conversation around him, and let that thought relax him. No hard feelings, no hard walk. Yes, everything was fine. That was, of course, when Nate tapped him on the shoulder and asked Oz to walk with him. Everything was not fine.

However, despite how much Oz dreaded the walk, despite how much he'd prefer to be in close proximity to his other friends to maybe, he didn't know, offer his comfort or whatever else was needed, this was Nate. Nate. Nate who was his best friend in the entire world for as long as he could remember. Nate who'd watched him transform after his parents divorce and his subsequent gaining of two over demanding sisters from a normal little boy to the too relaxed person he was today. Nate who had been avoiding him recently for unspecified reasons. That Nate. Oz didn't have a choice, did he?

"Can do, boss man," He hummed in reply, the moment's hesitation all but nonexistent as he stood to his feet, sliding his heavy backpack over his shoulders with a barely audible groan, grabbing his to-go drink in one hand and rolling his shoulders to get some attempt at comfort before the arduous journey set before him(an exaggeration, yes, but the backpack was heavy, dammit). He hesitated as Nate said his goodbyes, lingering at the table.

"See you guys at the party," He said, offering up his own farewell before, in lieu of an apology for not speaking up and to show his own concern, quite casually reaching out his free hand and ruffling Briton's mostly blonde hair in a tender sort of way that might make people outside their friend group uncomfortable. But, in the end, that was the way Oz was and his friends had grown to accept it or at least tolerate it. He was physically affectionate with those close to him, ruffling hair, offering hugs for the silliest of occasions, throwing arms around his friends shoulders like it was a sign that you'd made it, you'd finally wormed your way into a niche in Oz's heart and this was your reward. It was their own faults, really, for letting him get away with it, but, when that delighted look came across his face the moment he wasn't pushed away or the hug was returned, it was hard to say no or scold him. This, of course, added to his teddy bear-esque reputation that he accepted whole-heartedly because, really, he was Oz.

Content that he'd messed up Briton's hair, Oz gave one last wave before trailing behind Nate like a lost puppy, soon catching up with him outside. The sky was darkening in pretty reds and pinks as the sun began its descent over the horizon beckoning night and the moon into its rightful place.

"So, what are we going to talk about?" Oz asked in his casual sort of way after they'd made their way far enough from the diner, even if he already knew the answer to the question. This wasn't a sudden for fun thing or Nate extending an olive branch to signify that he wouldn't be avoiding them anymore. Oz knew him too well to assume that. He took a noisy sip of his milkshake, savoring the sweet flavor.

"I fell is all. Briton said turning his gaze to the floor, seeming unwilling to look any of them in the eye. Charlie stared at his friend through suspicious eyes, intending on staring the kid down if he ever looked at him again.

Briton placed a hand on Charlie's hand applying pressure to it as it remained on his leg.

"I went to the nurse so it's fine. I was probably supposed to stay until my knees stopped bleeding, but I didn't want to. Its no big deal, okay?"

Charlie let out a huff of air, oblivious to the fact that his hand still remained under Briton's, totally ignoring the hint that he should probably return to his own space.

"Briton you were suppose to stay, did you even give the lady a chance to do her job? That is why she's there. And you can't just brush this off like it's no big deal." Concern and annoyance at how little Briton seemed to care about his injury, mixed together into Charlie's voice as he continued to watch his friend.

Briton seemed to ignore the comment as he crossed his arms stubbornly.

The absent feeling of the warmth of Briton's hand made Charlie realize he was still touching his friend. After a few awkward seconds he pulled back, noone seeming to notice his awkward mistake. Trying to recover he quickly ran a hand through his hair, watching as Sam pulled out various items from his backpack.

Charlie whistled impressed as he picked up the bottle of aspirins shaking it noisily before replacing it. "Always be prepared, right?" He muttered giving Sam a smile which he didnt notice as his attention was pulled from Briton to Paige.

"Who was it?"

Charlie's grin slowly faded from his face as he looked over at Nate as his question silenced the table.

"Who did that to your knees, Briton?"

Charlie stared wide eyed as a cold tension began to thicken the air surrounding the table.

"Oh? And what are you going to do with that information, huh?" Briton's word came out like ice, the slight crack in his voice keeping it from sounding too harsh.

"You're gonna beat them up? Teach them a lesson?"

Charlie's eyes darted back and forth between the two as he decide which side he should take. Nate or Briton.

It was true Nate was only trying to help, show his support and be a good friend, but he was coming out of a black hole for a lack of words. Never telling anybody where he was, or where he was going. They only knew whatever he was doing he didnt need their help. Did he have the right to suddenly just jump into someone's business. Though Charlie did start the whole mess, maybe he was just being bitter to Nate. Then there was Briton's side where he did deserve his space and the descision on whether he wanted anyone in his business even if they were just trying to help him. Maybe they would only make it worse and that's why he never bothered anyone with his problems.

"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." Briton spit the name out like posion, and it dawned on Charlie as he took in the sentence.

I guess he always knew somewhere in the back of his mind that Briton was being bullied. Actually admitting it and trying to help his friend was a different story. I guess in truth he was honestly afraid that if he tried to help, the bullies would turn on him in time.

Charlie almost laughed at the thought. What kind of friend was he anyway? Letting Briton get hurt or any of his friends for that matter. He didnt even deserve the title 'friend'. Yet he had it, it was actually quite pathetic not wanting to help his friend because he was scared. Shaking his head he gave Briton a hard stare. He was actually quite brave if he said so himself. It didnt matter if he didn't think he was or any one else around him, what mattered was Charlie thought he was.

It amazed Charlie actually how Briton could still go to school, knowing he would probably get bullied physically and mentally, he nodded to himself agreeing with his own opinion as his eyes remained on Briton. His train of thought changed suddenly though, from giving kudos to the 'brave' Briton to admiring his facial features. His few feckles and smooth skin. Light innocent green eyes and cute smile. Charlie frowned at why he would be checking one of his friends out let alone a guy. He wasn't gay, he had already decided.

"Nobody fucks with my friends..." Charlie looked up as he watched Nate exit the diner. Glancing over at Briton he sighed, he agreed with Nate. Nobody did fuck with his friends if that meant confronting the very bullies that could turn on him he would do it for Briton.

Oz stood up, catching Charlie's attention as he playfully ruffled Briton's hair before exiting the diner following after Nate. Charlie had watched the exchange through jealous eyes, the action itself lightly stinging his heart and making him want to reach out and fix Briton's hair. Trying to hide his confusion at why he would care and the unhappiness he had gotten from it he began checking out a few girls at another table, giving one of them a wave when their eyes met. After getting a small giggle from her Charlie stood up stretching out his arms a large grin appearing across his face as he tried to ignore the awkward tension that still lingered.

"Let's get this show on the road." He commented looking down at the two remaining guys, Sam and Briton.

His gaze remained on Briton a little longer as he realized he would probably never break down the walls the dyed blonde had surrounding him and if he ever tried he would probably end up in the doghouse where it seemed like Nate lay at the moment.

Still with this thought in mind he gently nudged Briton giving him a soft smile. "You know you can talk to me right?" He said gently his gaze flickering from Briton to the floor. "That is what friends are for." He muttered under his breath stressing the word friend though he doubted he had even heard him.

Heading for the door he called over his shoulder. "I call shotgun." With that he stepped out of the diner his eyes instinctively studying the darkening orange sky before walking to Briton's car and leaning against it.

Lacey grinned at Amber as she showed her the note and nearly squealed. She hopped up out of her seat.

"Outfit time!" She grinned happily and motioned for the girls to come. "I can't wait! My sister and I went shopping the other day. My mom nearly killed us with all the skirts and jeans we bought." Lacey plucked out at least a twenty-dollar bill, which was probably more than what the milkshakes and fris cost. But she didn't care. She came to this diner all the time. If she paid too much this time, she usually was given something free during her next visit. "Alright, ladies. Up and at 'em. We're about to get beautified."

Lacey linked arms with Amber and Vi, tugging both girls closes to her and begging Paige with her eyes to link up with someone. This was girl time and girl time meant close time. Sure, the probability of all four of them fitting through the door was probably slim to nothing, but the attempt was always fun.

"I call shotgun," Lacey reminded them, daring Violet and Paige with her eyes to even think about going against her. They could race for it if they wanted to. Lacey was very determined, even in her play time. She glanced down at her phone as they headed for the door and released one of the girls to flip through her texts. Her phone had been on silent and her mother texted her.



Yeah, right. Lacey would not be caught dead alone with that woman.

Shaking that off, she glanced at the guys as they got ready to go, a look of glee on her face as it was very obvious this time that her friends were coming. Don't get Lacey wrong; she was very much aware of what had happened with Briton and promised inwardly revenge. Ryan Chaffon was actually friends with Max, as Lacey recalled. Payback's 'bout to be a bitch, she thought, eyes lingering on Briton longer than she meant to. "Okay, guys. We'll see you guys later. All of you." She made sure to add that emphasis, just to reiterate her earlier irritation with Nate. She wasn't Nate-crazy like both Vi and Amber obviously were, but she wasn't not his friend either. And damnit, he was going to spend time with all of them.

"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."

Samuel Westhouse

After his playful exchange with Paige, Briton's snapping sobered him up. He was defensive. Sam couldn't blame him for that, he liked keeping his personal life personal, but then again, he didn't show up with various signs of physical abuse on his body at any given time. Especially not with broken skin. That was a serious problem. Thankfully, Brtion ultimately divulged his culprits. Two guys. Sam's mind jumped to calculations. Who would go after them? Nate, obviously. Nate could hold his own, and he'd probably get Oz on his team too. They'd be fine, they didn't need him. But it was the other member of their group that worried him. Violet. Sure, she was a strong girl, but he knew that she didn't know when it was a good time to fold her cards. She could get hurt going up big guys like that. Maybe he'd approach her, see if they could work things out. He didn't talk to her much, but he did watch her just as much as he did the others in the group, and he noticed some things that told a bit more than she'd probably want to divulge. But he never mentioned anything. He wouldn't unless there was something truly serious. Like Briton's problem.

After the strained exchange Nate rose and left, taking Oz with him, as did the girls. Sam decided he'd catch Violet later. He'd have to decide what to say before hand though, or it probably wouldn't come out right. Charlie urged their group, comprised of Sam, himself, and Briton, and Sam rose, sweeping the rest of the supplies he'd offered to Briton back into his bag, kicking his soccer ball up into his arms, and following the other two out to Briton's car. Charlie called shotgun, so he quietly slid into the backseat, rapping his knuckles lightly against the top of the ball. He honestly wasn't a big fan of mechanical transportation, he liked being out in the air, moving, but he didn't have enough time to run all the way home without getting seriously bedraggled. He just needed to get in and out before his mother came home. He loved her, but the less time he spent around her the better.

Instead of bouncing around impatiently in the car, as he felt the urge to do, Sam forced himself to rest his head against the back of the chair and shut his eyes, focusing on the music that was playing without really listening to it. is knee bounced lightly, but the rest of him stayed completely still. Maybe he'd just grab his stuff and disappear into the woods for a while. That sounded nice. When the car stopped it wasn't two seconds later when the back door clicked shut again. He threw in a "Later Charlie." somewhere in there before his anxious feet hit the pavement. He circled around the car, pausing at the mailbox for a second to grab a fistful of the papers within. Bills, always bills. Electricity, water, heating. Briton called out a good bye and he lifted a hand. "Thanks, bro." He responded, his voice just a bit too soft to carry very far. There was a laden silence that made Sam pause, his back to the car, and he heard the windshield squeal down.

A grudging sentence of thanks floated to him. He didn't speak a response though. He turned on his heels, pulling a small smile onto his face and waving with his fist of mail. He watched the car roll away and he sighed. Things were so complicated sometimes. Always, actually. He couldn't understand it. So many tensions, so many half-turned up graves just waiting for someone to fall in. Everyone seemed to have some kind of problem. Sam had decided long ago that he wouldn't burden the others with his shit, and he'd succeeded pretty well so far. He was ever present, but emotionally distant. Unlike Briton his troubles were buried deep and held no physical scars to betray their presence. He just seemed like a sleepy, laid back guy that didn't say much. Paige had done her share of prying, but Sam knew how to keep himself to himself. His problems didn't matter. No big deal. His job was to support his friends as well as he could until they all set off, seeking out their own lives. Maybe someday he'd get a GED, go to a community college or something, but there was no point now. It all felt sort of...worthless.

Sam pushed through the door, tossing the mail onto the table and flipping open the tap for a few seconds to get a drink of water from his cupped hand. All that was in his future for the immediate future was waiting. He was obligated to go to the stupid party, anything for Paige, but until then he had nothing to do. Just be gone before his Mother came home, because his presence made her even sadder than she usually was.

The ride was pretty much silent other than the ongoing sound of Briton's music that Charlie payed no mind to as he stared out the window. His thoughts drifted around loosely in his head, strangely enough all of them kept coming back to the guy who was only an arm lengths a way, but was more like a mile.

Briton.

Charlie glanced over at the blonde next to him who seemed to be focused on the road. His soft features still looked a little bit shaken up from the recent conversation involving his injury.

Which Charlie was to blame of course, not his injury no the reason he was upset. Because stupid Charlie decided to bring up the subject. He had made Briton frown, he started it. The only time he had seen the blonde smile since he had shoved up the boy's pants legs was when Oz had touched him. Even if was only a slight twitch of his mouth Charlie could tell Briton's spirits were lifted. Charlie bit his lip why couldn't he make him smile? Why did it have to be Oz? Oh so perfect Oz, the Oz everybody loved, including Briton. He was charismatic, friendly, good looking, and easy going who wouldn't love him?

Stupid Briton,why was he even on his mind.

Briton, Charlie almost said out loud. He couldn't stop repeating the kids name, it was like it was stuck on replay in his head. He liked the name though, so he didnt mind. He liked the way it rolled of his tongue, it suited the handsome blonde next to him. Charlie shook his head violently angry with his thoughts. What was he saying this was one of his dearest friends he was talking about. Thinking thoughts like that weren't okay right? Straight guys didn't think like that, right? But he and Briton were close friends, weren't they? He was concerned about him that's why he was thinking about him so much. Its okay to be concerned. That's what friends are suppose to feel like towards other friends. That's all it was he was worried about his friend.

Charlie nodded lightly agreeing with himself as he relaxed a little in his seat.

"Alright, next to drop you off at your place."

Charlie looked over at Briton startled to hear his voice in the now almost empty car. Guess he hadn't noticed Sam get out, shrugging slightly Charlie let out a sigh.

He didn't really want to go home, his dad was off tonight. Charlie honestly didn't feel like dealing with his dad or his fathers bitchy girlfriend who was always complaining about the lack of space and dirtiness in their small two bedroom apartment yet stayed their 24/7.

"Nah lets do something fun." Charlie stated bluntly not willingly to take no as answer.

"Maybe we can pick up some chicks to take to the party. I'm getting bored of our high-school girls." Charlie smirked looking over at the green eyed boy next to him, trying to hide the dissatisfaction he felt at the thought of picking up girls. "Or we can call Nate and Oz and see what their doing." Charlie continued without thinking, instantly regretting mentioning Oz.

"Or we could just hang out." Charlie quickly added trying to sound nonchalant though the sentence came out quieter than the rest of his suggestions. Glancing over at Briton Charlie suddenly felt his cheeks turn a deep shade of red as he mentally cursed himself for even offering for the two of them to hang out. Briton probably wanted to get rid of him, maybe he was still pissed at him for bringing up the subject.

Whatever, it doesn't matter Charlie thought bitterly turning to look out the passenger window. Running a quick hand through his hair he spoke again trying to keep his voice steady.

"Never mind, just drop me off."

"Nah lets do something fun," Charlie blurted, the sudden opposition startling Briton slightly. He raised his brows, looked over the the boy sitting in the other seat, confused, before quickly darting his eyes back over to the road, straightening out the car which had begun to drift towards the center line of the road. Fun, huh? Fun?? Did Briton seem like he was up for something fun to him? Briton just didn't get it.

"Maybe we can pick up some chicks to take to the party. I'm getting bored of our high-school girls." Charlie continued to suggest. Briton let out a small huff. He supposed that would be what Charlie would consider fun, but nowhere in a single sliver of Briton's small person was he in any mood to be pretending to be interested in some random girls. Not to mention that, while "picking up chicks" seemed like a fine and dandy activity to Mr. Playboy over here, he must not have realized that it would have been near impossible for Briton to "score with the ladies" in the first place, sexuality aside. He opened his mouth to object, but much to his satisfaction, Charlie moved on from the suggestion rather quickly. "Or we can call Nate and Oz and see what their doing."

Briton slumped his shoulders at the thought. Nate and Oz were probably hanging out, and, regardless of Nate's downer attitude and sudden complex about teaching a lesson to the boys who were tormenting Briton, Oz was probably enjoying every second. They were best friends, after all, weren't they? Briton was just Oz's Friend. As much as any encounter with Oz was... favorable... The idea was beginning to make Briton feel sick to his stomach. Maybe it was best to leave his awful obsession alone for one weekend. He could stay home, avoid the party and his friends for a while, and maybe that would make him feel a little better. As long as he didn't end up hearing stories on Monday about the weekend's events of pounding the shit out of the bullies and making a huge mess, it was fine, right? Avoidance was far easier, far more pleasant, far less messy.

"Or we could just hang out." He continued, his statement seeming to almost step on his other statement to crush it, though Briton wasn't quite sure why. This was probably one of the more interesting suggestions, too. How often really was it that the two of them had hung out just together? Perhaps they hadn't, aside from perhaps when they were quite young. But it did always seem that Briton was only ever hanging out with any of his friends when he was just tagging along with their groups. He glanced back over at Charlie quickly, trying to figure out what exactly Charlie was going for as far as the purpose of the suggestions, and noticed the other boy sort of... give up. "Never mind, just drop me off."

Briton's eyes flew back to the road, biting his lip and not saying anything for the moment while he just tried to think. From the sounds of it, Charlie didn't really seem like he wanted to be just dropped off, not after trying so hard to suggest something else to do, after all. Maybe it was that he just didn't want to go home, or maybe he still felt a little guilty about contributing towards putting Briton on the spot like that earlier. Now that he thought about it, Briton was surprised at himself for not holding anything against the kid. He wasn't really mad at Charlie, at all, despite him being the one that triggered all that came after it. But really, he supposed Charlie just didn't know about it. He thought he was helping, maybe, though Briton was sure that Nate thought he was helping, too. Still, had Nathan kept his mouth shut, most of his friends would have simply gritted their teeth as they pretended to accept the fall excuse. No, there really wasn't too much to hold against Charlie. Not yet, anyway.

"Um, I mean we can hang out at my place for a little while," Briton suggested, trying to keep his focus on driving now finally that he'd realized his speed had begun to increase a bit too much. "I don't really think I'd have much fun trying to pick up girls, and I'd probably hurt your 'game' or whatever. But we can hang out at my place and then I can just like, drop you off at the party later. I know I told Violet I'd think about going, but I doubt it." He shrugged, turning the car down the road for his neighborhood, muttering something along the lines of, "I'll decide later."

"Anyway, uh," He continued, trying to avoid too much of an awkward silence inside the vehicle for much longer. "My house should be empty, anyway. And, by the way," Briton bit his lip a moment, pausing a little too long as a stop sign before continuing on. "I hope you know I'm not like... mad at you or anything. About calling attention to my... y'know. It's not like you knew, I guess. And you were just trying to help so, it's okay." He sighed, realizing how butchered the sentence was, and he really hadn't wanted to talk about it at all, really. Still, he had to get it out of the way, clear the air so-to-speak.

It wasn't much longer before he pulled up in the gravel driveway of the two story apartment building. It was simple, plain, surrounded by flat, browning grass and rusty chain fences on three sides. The wood paneling on the building itself was dark and old, and many panels were missing. The front door lead into the two downstairs apartments, and the brand new, wooden staircase on the side of the house lead to the apartment upstairs; the one - much to his displeasure - that he resided in. He stepped out of the car, waiting for Charlie to follow suit before locking the car door and heading over to the staircase. Every single time he went up those stairs, he always seemed to do the same two things; he'd half-jog up them, eager to be off the staircase as soon as possible, and he stayed as near to the inside of the staircase as he could be, making sure not to look down at all. Once up at the door, he unlocked it and stepped inside with almost a sigh of relief - what a terrible thing that fear of heights was - before finally taking a look behind him to look back at Charlie, holding the door open for when the other boy would make it through himself.

"Sorry it's kinda messy in here," Briton apologized in advance, letting the door swing shut behind Charlie, while he turned, walking through the narrow kitchen they'd stepped into, pausing only to open up the fridge and pry out the pizza box that he'd placed in there only last night, and tuck it under his arm. He didn't really care so much about heating it up. It was the same either way, and even still, the entire half of the extra large pizza was a bit difficult to stick in the microwave all at once. The rest of the apartment, in fact, was rather tidy, having not seen much usage at all from the small boy, though once the door to Briton's small, cramped bedroom was opened, the apology was far more understandable. The room, already crowded by a twin mattress and box-spring, a desk and chair, a small dresser, and a closet in the corner, was additionally strewn full off cables across the floor, a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed in front of the closet door, a flat screen mounted on the wall, a heavy duty computer, two stolen computers from the school's AV club, two monitors on the desk, a laptop on the bed, strewn soda cans, and nearly every system and game that a young man could want. The drawn curtains of the room certainly didn't help the scene, either.

Briton stepped carefully over wires, kicking his shoes off and under the desk where they'd be out of the way, before plopping the box of pizza down on an empty space on the desk. He pulled the computer chair out for Charlie before plopping down himself on the edge of the bed. "So, uh," he shrugged, unsure of what to suggest. "Did you want to... Watch a movie or play a video game or something? Or, I mean, did you want something? A drink or whatever?"

"Um, I mean we can hang out at my place for a little while."

Charlie turned to look at Briton his heart fluttering slightly at the invitation. A smile crept its way across the dark haired blonde's face as he blocked out anything else the boy next to him said further. Staring at Briton's profile the small smile Charlie had been wearing slipped away. His heart picked up speed slightly as butterflies began to take flight in his stomach. He was going to Briton's house alone. Just them. No Oscar, just them. What would he say. What would he do? The sudden stand still of the car did nothing to help his anxiety as Briton exited the car. Biting his lip Charlie slowly followed Briton into the old apartment.

Walking up the staircase Charlie's footsteps looked slow and sluggish compared to Briton's quick pace up the wooden steps. Looking at the dyed blonde's back Charlie tried to think of something to say that would end the comfortable silence the two had made since they entered the building. Yet came up with nothing as Briton held the door open for him.

"Sorry it's kinda messy in here."

Charlie looked around the place, the butterflies in his stomach still jumpy and lively, and almost laughed at Briton's comment. If this is what he called 'messy' then there was no way he would ever show Briton his house.

Continuing to follow after the green eyed host Charlie tiptoed through the house feeling despite their friendship like an intruder, like he didnt belong at this quiet boys house with his loud and playful personality. Stopping at the doorway to Briton's room he watched as the teen kicked his shoes off and pulled out a chair for his guest before plopping down on his bed. The butterflies in stomach only multipled as he awkwardly stood at the doorway his blue eyes flickering from the chair to his right foot that had despite his nerves made it at least six inches in the room.

You have been in bedrooms before. Tons of them. Heck you have even been in beds. This is no differnt. Charlie reminded himself, as he tried to coax himself into his friends bedroom.

Letting out an almost unoticeable breath, Charlie 'cooly' swaggered into the untidy room. Ignoring the now flesh crazed butterflies he sat down in the computer chair and smiled lazily at his friend.

"I'm fine." He nodded responding to Briton's earlier question. Leaning his elbows on his knees Charlie let his eyes fully roam around the room. "What do you want to do, I'm cool with anything."

I'm cool with literally anything Charlie thought as his eyes returned to the boy in front of him. If you want to just sit here and look at each other I'll be okay with it. He bit his lip sheepishly, ashamed at how much he just wanted to kiss Briton at the moment for no apparent reason.

Pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes, Charlie decided to avert his eyes from the temptation in front of him that he was disappointed to call his friend. He really didnt want do something he would regret later.

Briton found himself tilting, his head leaning towards one shoulder while he looked at Charlie, and quickly made an effort to straighten up once more. Something seemed off about him, like, he wasn't quite feeling himself, or just not acting right. Almost.... awkward... Which was hardly something Briton saw in this outgoing friend of his. Perhaps it was just that they were alone together. After all, it had been quite some time since they had ever done such a thing; such a long time, Briton wondered if they ever had just been the only two in a room. Not that Charlie really should have felt uncomfortable. They were friends, weren't they? Well...

"What do you want to do, I'm cool with anything." Charlie said, giving forth not a single contribution to finding something to kill time with. Briton's head fell back to it's tilted position, watching while Mr. Super-hot-playboy-who-could-have-any-girl-he-wanted-with-a-smile bit his lip sheepishly, pushed the hair out of his face as if he were shy.

Briton simply blinked a few times, his face completely blank, too distracted to try to meld that expression of his into any kind of emotion, and not even sure what emotion it should have been in the first place. Was he supposed to inquire about it? Was he supposed to ask if something was wrong because he was a friend? Surely, if it was the other way around in the situation, Briton wouldn't have wanted anyone to say anything if he were acting strange, but other people were different, weren't they? They liked attention and they didn't freeze up and feel their hearts beating too fast for comfort when they talked about themselves. They weren't scared of their enemies and friends alike, and they liked being thought of. It wasn't too hard, was it? He could just do it. Just ask Charlie if he felt okay. People asked that kind of thing all the time, it was practically small talk. Even two strangers could say it in passing if something seemed wrong, so why wouldn't any words come out of his mouth? He parted his lips; perhaps if he opened them up, the words would come out on their own, but rather he said something else.

"You're weird today."

Briton instantly regretted opening his mouth. He fidgeted, standing up from his bed for a moment only to take two steps away from it, kick one of the cans that were on the floor, and turn back towards the bed to crawl back onto it closer to where his TV remote and laptop were. He made careful to position himself so as not to smear any blood on the sheets, but at the same time, he reminded himself he had to change his sheets anyway, so it didn't matter. All his motions seemed too mechanical, too awkward, and here he was thinking Charlie was acting awkward. Took one to know one, wasn't that what people said all the time? Briton licked his lips, turning the TV on with his remote and lighting the dim room with a blue screen before opening up his laptop and waiting for it to start up and sync with the television.

"I um... uh..." He raked his hand through his hair to push it backwards from his face, continuing motions from the same hand a few more times while he swiftly tucked strands behind his ears. When there was no more to be done with his hair, his hand settled for picking at the hem of his jeans. "Uh.... That um.... came out wrong. Uh... Lets just watch a movie."

Briton quickly pulled up his video files, which was - contrary to his bedroom - was very neat and orderly, separated into different files for different series and different genres for movies. He took a glance over at Charlie a moment, hesitating while he tried to figure out what kind of movie would be the least irritating to the other boy, as if it would have been written across the guy's face or something. Biting his lip, he pulled open the SciFi folder and decided on the Fifth Element. That was a safe choice, right? Who didn't like the Fifth Element? Honestly. The duration of the movie was taken in silence, mostly; the occasional lean over to grab a new slice of pizza from the desk occurred, but Briton didn't really notice too much else. Sure, there was the occasional glance over to Charlie to see what his reactions were, or just to see what he was doing, and once or twice he might have caught Charlie glancing at him. He sort of wondered if that was a normal thing.

By the time the movie was winding down, and so was the time, and Bruce Willis was finally figuring out how to activate the stones, Briton stood from the bed. "I just gotta change my clothes, I almost forgot." He said, half to himself, but knowing full well that Charlie had heard him. He made the quick few steps to the dresser in the room and pulled out a pair of skinny jeans which had been cut off just above the knees after they'd ripped from falling once, and a grey tee shirt with a t-rex throwing up a rainbow across the front. He hesitated a moment, looking over at the back of Charlie's head before looking away again. It was okay, right? To get undressed behing your friend's back. People do that. Straight people do it. It doesn't matter, right? Totally not weird. He pulled his pants down first, tossing them away and pulling on the new pair, which openly displayed the tight, white bandaging on his knees. Luckily, he wasn't bleeding through the bandages just yet, and the stains on his pants hadn't left too many marks on the outside of the bandages either. He didn't really care too much about showing the wound anymore, after all. Really, it was only his friends he was hiding wounds from.

He hesitated with his hands on the hem of his shirt for a moment. What if Charlie looked behind him, even for a just a second, while Briton's shirt was off? Not that Briton was that uncomfortable with the idea of his body being seen as one would think. Sure, he was scrawny and small looking, delicate, and that was embarrassing, but so far, it seemed that Charlie only knew about the bullying from today. He wasn't yet aware of the bruising all over Briton's ribs from having been pushing into the metal bleaches outside yesterday. No one was, yet. And no one needed to be. He gritted his teeth. He would do it fast, he would just ignore it is Charlie said anything. He would hope Charlie would realize not to say anything this time if he saw anything.

Pulling off his shirt as quickly and gingerly as possible and tossing it in the same general direction of the pants he'd strewn, he snatched the new top and pulled it on. By the time the article of clothing was on his body, he couldn't be sure as to whether Charlie had looked at all or not. He really hoped it was "Or not," and moved on to change his socks, which had gotten blood on them earlier, out for some geeky-looking tube socks and shut his laptop as the credits began to roll. The TV would do automatic shut down later.

"Alright, come on," He finally spoke up, not bothering to look back at Charlie before prying open the creaking wooden door to his room and exiting into the much brighter rest of the apartment. He didn't look back until he was at the door and pulling on his shoes, grabbing his keys. Why did everything feel so awkward? Something just felt so odd, and he wasn't sure why. Shouldn't he feel comfortable with all his friends? Like he was with Oz? No, no. He was only comfortable with Oz because he had a stupid-ass fucking crush on the dude. But why couldn't he just relax for two seconds? Was it really that hard? He was sure it was just this day. It was so terrible, so horrible. He couldn't wait for it to be over, and yet here he was again, considering going inside that stupid party since Violet had wanted to talk to him. As if she couldn't just talk to him any other time, but he supposed it couldn't be helped. Once Violet was stuck on something, there really wasn't any changing her mind.

Briton pushed through the door and down the stairs, just about at the same speed he'd gone on the way up, not bothering with the door, seeing as it would lock the moment it was closed by Charlie after him, anyway. At least it made forgetting to lock up a lot easier, but it didn't help when forgetting the keys, certainly. He unlocked the car, slid into the driver's side, and as soon as Charlie had gotten in as well, back out of the driveway and headed to that stupid-ass party.

. . .

I don't want to go in, he thought, staring down the groups and crowds standing in the darkening front lawn and pushing through the front door. The music was loud, loud enough to hear from where he sat in the car, parked about a house down across the street. Fast paced, loud sounds, paired with a thick crowd of people he didn't like. Why was it that his friends thought this was such a good idea? He sunk down in his seat a moment, staring over at the flashing lights from the large house. It was a big party. The cops would be around any minute, right? All he had to do was go in, let Violet say whatever the heck she wanted to, maybe see about talking to Oz, and then it would be all over! There was no rule about leaving early, either, now was there?

Sighing, and much to his own displeasure, he popped open the door and slid out of the car moments after Charlie had gotten out. "I'm only going in for a few minutes!" Briton huffed, shutting the door and locking the car before turning and near-storming off towards the front door. "I'll probably leave early, too, so just text me if you need a ride home later," he continued, looking back at Charlie a moment before turning away and quickening his pace. The quicker he was in, the quicker he was out, he supposed.

His trail wandered a bit, before he started to notice a familiar face or two. Ducking under flailing arms and winding around meat-heads twice his size without being noticed at all, he finally got close enough to make out who from the group had finally arrived. He arrived just in time to hear an energetic "hey there!" came from Cora, who, having not been at milkshakes earlier, was a bit of a surprise to see, actually. There was Amber, Lacey.... Sam... It didn't look like Nate and Oz were there, though, but Briton tried to tell himself he wasn't going to really wait around just for another stupid chance to talk to Oz, as tempting as it was.

"Hey guys," Briton uttered, too quiet really for the words to be heard over the music, though he was sure when his friends saw him that they knew he'd greeted them, at the very least. When he spoke again, he tried to make his voice a bit louder, almost tried to yell, though yelling wasn't really something he did very often at all. "I showed up, against my better nature. But I promise I'm not staying."

He huffed. The music was loud, throbbing at his skull and making him want to claw at his ears until he could no longer hear it. His heart pounded swiftly, and the feeling seemed to be too high in his chest. It was hard to breath the air, filled with sweat and booze and everyone else's breath. Too many loomed above him, and he constantly found himself leaning closer to his friends at some point or another because of someone brushing by his back or coming too close. He tried his best to look nonchalant, hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched, but every muscle was tense. His eyes constantly darting from one passer-by to the next, nervous about whether their attentions would waver from what they were doing or not. He wasn't comfortable. He wasn't safe. He needed to get this over with.

"So where's-" He began, his eyes changing from drifting to searching, before he noticed Violet merging a little more towards the group with a beer in her hand. Stepping in between people and getting over to her finally, he elbowed her. "There you are. You said you wanted to talk to me about something, right?" He flinched while the tone to the music jumped suddenly, stepping closer to her and not caring if his eyes wandered around any more. He was too on-edge, he couldn't help it. He didn't want to be here, he had a bad feeling about it all.

And there we were. At the party I had said I wouldn't be going to not even 4 hours ago. Well, I guess it wasn't so bad. Save for the annoying music that could be heard from 2 blocks down the road. And the equally, if not-- more annoying people twisting and bumping around to the lame soundtrack blasting their senses away. Then there was the booze. Yup, plenty of that, I could see. Anyone who wasn't dancing in the middle of it all was off to the sides, drinking and hitting on their peers. Oz and I made our way through the first wave of people relatively easy, but what came next seemed impossible to navigate if you're looking for specific people. Our friends were nowhere to be seen at the moment, and not even Oz in all his tall glory was able to spot any of them. I always figured it was the poor lighting. God, what was this? A house party, or a nightclub...? Even with Lacey's talented DJ skills, I couldn't get over just how incredibly loud it all was. How were you supposed to talk to people without screaming your vocal cords dry?

Just as I managed to catch sight of a short brunette that looked an awful lot like Violet, Oz snatched my wrist and held me back, directing my attention to two very specific people hanging out with their friends in a nice little corner of the room. Vic and Ryan. It was almost too perfect. The couple of asshats weren't alone, meaning they had their reputations on the line should someone decide to mess with them. Unfortunately for them, that someone happened to be me. Well, and Oz, but I pretty much already knew how this was likely going to go down with him at my side. Fingers crossed!

"Oh-- oh, yeah! I seem em!" I said. "Good eye, Oz!" Patting him on the shoulder with a smile, I decided to head their way rather than in the direction the brunette was walking off to. Better to get this over with sooner rather than later. Although, I wasn't too sure I knew what it was that I would be doing at first... I suppose I figured on talking with them to start things off, since that's what Oz and I did. "H-Hey!" I yelled at them with a wave as we approached. "How's it going, guys?" It took the two of them a moment to figure out who we were-- well, more of who I was than Oz, but like I said; poor lighting. After seeming to remember my name after giving me a 'bro point' that came along with a "Heyyy!", Ryan slapped my hand in friendly greeting.

"Uhhh, Jake, right?" he said, giving me a smile as though he and I had been best friends since grade school.

"Uh, no! Actually, it's Nate!" I yelled back, now gesturing towards my tall friend. "And this is Oz! His name is Oscar, but we just call him Oz, cuz' he's a total wizard, yo!" Wow, where the hell did that come from...?

"Ah, bitchin'!" yelled Ryan, giving Oz the same friendly hand slap that Vic gave myself. "Killer party, right? Haha!" As if to emphasize his fascination with the event, Ryan looked around with a great deal of upper body language, to which I just nodded emphatically.

"So what brings you guys to this crazy zoo, huh?" said Vic after nodding along in agreement with everything Ryan was saying, taking a drink from his beer while he was at it. "Don't normally see you two coming to this kinda scene, or am I being stupid?" You're being stupid alright, but that's neither here nor there at the moment...

"Yeah, we know the DJ! Lacey Harvelle! You know her?" I shouted back, taking hold of one of the beers Ryan had offered me and Oz. To be honest, it was a total reflex. I was the last person at that party, save for maybe Briton, who was looking to get drunk... Trust me. I am not a happy drunk...

"Uh, hell yeah we know her!" said Vic after exchanging a rather suggestive look with his buddy Ryan. "Ain't no way we don't know about a fine piece of ass like that, haha!" These guys were getting on my nerves more and more every passing second I spent LOOKING at them, nevermind talking to. But I calmed my urge to walk away; I was hellbent on seeing this through. For Briton.

"Yyyhup! That's the one!" I yelled, exchanging a roll of the eyes with Oz as Vic and Ryan laughed and slapped me on the shoulder. At the same time, no less. "Anyway, who invited you two? The same?" The next thing I did was even dumber than accepting the damn thing in the first place; I took a drink. Resisting the urge to spit it back out at the two jerks in front of me, no matter how much they deserved it, I ended up forcing myself to swallow it. If I wasted anymore time dawdling about with Briton's bullies, I was afraid I might have taken a few more.

"Heh, why do you ask?" yelled Ryan, now giving me an inquisitive smile. "I mean, we're here, aren't we? What does it matter?" He threw Vic a humorous grin and turned back to me.

"Well," I yelled back, giving them a light shrug. "It's just that I happen to be really good friends with Lace, and I know for a fact that she wouldn't knowingly invite two of the people who regularly beat up on a friend of hers!" Aaaand another sip. It was strange, but with every word that came out of my mouth, I felt like I had less and less control of my own body. My mind was there, sure, but it seemed to have little to no control over my actions. It was starting to worry me at the point of realizing this.

"Heh..." scoffed Ryan. "I don't 'beat up' on people, for one. Okay? It's all in good fun; they know that." Another laugh. "And two, you're gonna have to be a little more specific about just who it is you're talkin' about. I joke around with a looot of people at school, y'know." Oh, yeah. Believe me, jackass, I know. We all know. You just happened to "joke around" with one too many this time... Taking another sip of my drink, much to what I assumed was Oscar's bewilderment, although I didn't see on account of not having eyes in the back of my head, I nodded in response before answering with the words that would send this little confrontation directly south in a matter of seconds.

"Briton. Hadings." I said clearly, making sure both parts of the name were each heard as they were intended. This made both Vic and Ryan's smiles instantly vanish. They now appeared to be in "serious mode", or so I figured they probably called it when they were alone together. Their reaction to the name made me instinctively snort with a small chuckle as I placed my free hand inside of my pocket, feeling the silver pocket watch within it.

"Lacey's friends with that...freak?" asked Ryan, still holding up his serious face. I merely kept smiling and moved my now slightly damp-with-sweat bangs from my eyes with a brush of my thumb.

"And so am I." I said back. "Oz too." I added with a nod up at my gangly friend. Giving up the fake smile, I shrugged. "Look, we just wanna ask you to lay off him from now on, okay? He's never done anything to you, so..." I paused, shrugging again. "Think you can pick on someone your own size for once? Just an idea!" Finishing up with a nod as if to say "Yup, that's all I got", I let Oz take a crack at it while we waited for their response, not that I needed it. I was already certain that this wouldn't end the Oz way... Even with the man himself standing right next to me with one foot in the door. And that's when it started getting a bit heated. There was a pause between the changing of the tracks just behind Oz and I, and it wasn't until the next song started playing that Ryan removed his rather transparent mask and spoke up.

"Heh... How about you and 'Briton' go fuck yourselves." he said, leaning in a bit closer so as to make sure only me and Oz heard. "If you want us to stop giving Briton what he deserves, then tell him to stop being such a PUSSY." Well, that wasn't a very nice way to accept my request, now was it? That remark made my shoulders drop, and a sigh escape my lips. Now obvious that Plan B was the only reliable method towards managing to walk away with a win after all, I furrowed my eyebrows slightly, and chose to try something new; provocation.

"Hm..." I hummed softly, my pause likely not having even been heard thanks to the loud bass vibrating the walls around us. "Are you sure Briton is the pussy here? Because, the way I see it, you two are the only ones who fit that description; picking on someone who refuses to fight back...? Isn't that something only the weak do? You might as well punch a tree and call yourselves the champions of the forest!" 'Sorry for that one, Briton...' I thought to myself, feeling guilty for sounding as though I were making fun of my friend for not defending himself against his bullies, even if he weren't there to hear it.

"Oh yeah?! I'll show you weak--!!" shouted Vic, taking a step at me, only to be held back by Ryan, who seemed to find what I said to be rather intriguing. It was too easy to lure these guys into a trap. I hadn't counted on Ryan holding back his substantially larger friend, but that was only a minor bump along the road to victory.

"Hold on, Vic." he said, cracking a smile as he studied me. "Earlier you mentioned that we should pick on someone our own size, but...all I see are you..." He paused, pointing from me, and now to Oz. "...and Ronald Weasley over here. I'm afraid you're too small, and he's, well...too big. Wouldn't that just be unfair all around?" Clearly this guy held himself in some kind of holier-than-thou light, because he seemed to truly believe that he was bigger than me. Truth was, we were about the same height and overall weight. "Now...WE aren't going to accept such an unfair challenge... Unless, of course...YOU want to step up to the plate, Nathan?" he finished, adding emphasis to his little punchline as he laughed alongside his ape of a friend. I waved off Oz's attempts at trying to get me to walk away from this before it was too late. I wasn't going to do that. Not when I was about to win this. Well, somewhat...

"Ummm, okay!" I said immediately, my eyes looking to the right as I held up a long shrug, acting as though I were either bluffing, or just really, really stupid. This made the two of them stop laughing faster than they started up. Vic quickly scowled angrily at me before slapping the drink out of my hand, much to my delight.

"You think this is a fucking GAME?!" he shouted, taking another step at me. This time, Ryan didn't hold him back. "You KNOW I'd knock you on your ass, punk!" Flexing his rather large arms with what appeared to be some sort of warm-up exercise, he gritted his teeth at me like some kind of hybrid between a dog and a gorilla. By now, our little spout had drawn the attention of a few people who were nearby chatting with their own friends.

"Won't know for sure unless you try!" I shouted back, waving off Oz once again; this time actually pushing him away to the side, for I knew what was coming next. In one swift motion, Vic Rockford's giant fist came hurdling towards me. Like most things that threatened my life this day and age, I saw it slow down to incredible speeds. Obviously time itself didn't slow down around us, and it sure wasn't Vic who decided to hold back a little, but my ability to perceive the incoming of my surroundings was almost to the level of supernatural at this point. Of course, my current body wasn't up to par with its eyes, although I was more than capable of either dodging, blocking or reversing this thug's blow without much trouble. But time was running short, and my window of opportunity was coming to a close. Now it was time for a choice; I could either A., totally own this asshole at his own game in front of all these people, announcing to the entire party that Briton was thereby under my protection and there was nothing anybody could do about it, or B., let this guy totally knock me flat so as not to come off to my friends as a super suspicious weirdo after somehow managing to fend off someone as large and terrifying as Vic Rockford.

Just as time was about to run out, I came to one hell of a conclusion with my inner self: Hey, why not do both?

"Argh!!" I exclaimed as the sound of Vic's fist colliding with my skull flooded my entire brain. I felt the grasping hands of my friend Oz as he tried to catch me but couldn't. Before I would smack into anything on my way down, my foot happened to snag onto the cord leading to the speakers that were connected to the system providing the music, causing a sudden and very dead silence to fill the room. Well, almost silent, anyway. The sound of my back meeting with the side of the DJ's stage was more than loud enough to turn a few heads in our direction. The stage having saved me from the fall being slightly dented in, I pushed myself off of it with a hand, only to be caught by Oz, who was once again likely saying something about quitting while we were ahead. Truth was, I couldn't make out anything but the ticking of my watch while my head was ringing so loudly, so I was a bit unsure of what might have been said around me. The ringing finally subsiding, I managed to make out the sounds of Vic and Ryan laughing their asses off, damn near out of breath, or so it seemed.

"That was priceless!! HAHAHAHA!! Your really stood your ground there, didn't you, bitch!" guffawed Ryan, patting Vic on the back. "Why don't you just go home, Tate-- or NATE, whatever the hell your name was!" Laughing again at my expense, Ryan managed to get a few other people laughing. That was fine-- no, it was perfect.

"Urghh..." I grunted, finally finding my footing once more as I gave my head a little shake. "Hey! I'm still standing, aren't I?!" I yelled back at him, still not used to the near silence within the room; the music still not kicking back in just yet. Giving Oz a friendly pat for trying to catch me, as well as a look that said "I'm fine, don't worry about it.", in case he was still worrying.

"Oh-ho! Ohhh, I'm afraid he's right, Vic! You said you were gonna knock him on his ass-- better see it through, don't you think?" said Ryan, humorously. Giving him a chuckle of his own, Vic stepped forward again.

"Hold it!" I shouted, the palm of my hand prominently displayed before me. "I have a proposition for you, Vic." Curving a smile of my own, I waited to hear what the giant would say to this.

"A propo-what...?" replied the big oaf.

"He means he wants to make you a deal, you dumb fuck!" said Ryan after slapping a hand over his eyes with a laugh in regards to his friend's ignorance, and then harder at the idea of me putting up a wager.

"Oh... Alright, what? If you're trying to get outta your beating, punk, then you can forget it." said Vic, flexing his arms once again. Huh, and here I was under the impression that the two of them "didn't beat up on people... So much for that statement.

"If I can pin your back to the ground within 3 seconds of your next blow, then you have to leave Briton alone from here on out." I said, holding up 3 fingers. You know, to show that I meant business. "What d'ya say? You up for the challenge?" Ryanmade a light chuckle at those words, still thinking that I was all talk, however found it strange that I would make such an outrageous bet in front of all these people. But before he could say anything to Vic, the man in question agreed in earnest.

"You're on!" he said, laughing at me.

"Great! Now no take-backs! Unless you wanna look like a total bitch in front of all these people for not holding up your end of the deal~" I sung at him, holding up a finger to add insult to injury. Of course, this just made him laugh.

"Tch, whatever! Let's just get on with it, shit-stain!" he yelled back, taking another step forward.

"Well wait, we gotta shake on it first." I said with a smile, holding out my left hand for him to accept. This was the moment when Ryan realized I was neither bluffing NOR stupid. But before he could tell Vic otherwise, it was already too late.

"Heheh, sure..." chuckled Vic, extending his right hand to grab hold of my left. And that was when the dumbass did exactly what I knew he would; he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him. Thanks to him pulling me into his range, there was no longer enough room for him to get the same amount of strength into his attack as before. On top of that, the momentum of the fight was against him. All I had to do was lean forward so that his left arm went over my right shoulder, plant my free hand against his chest, hook my already extended leg around his right, pull back with it and push forward with my hand. And just like that, Vic Rockford was pinned to the ground in only 2 very quick seconds. Of course, I acted as though it was nothing more than a total fluke; my yell of the word "Whoa" having planted that idea in most of the heads in the audience. And, just to make sure it sold, I stood up and clasped my hands to my head with wide eyes.

"Holy crap, I won...!" I yelled, breathing hard, then turning my upper body left and right to look at everyone else, as if to say CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SHIT?! Needless to say, the whole crowd erupted in a large amount of drunken cheers and woos. I clasped hands with Oz, further trying to convey that it was pure accident that I managed to pin Vic down just as I had wagered I would. Jumping up and shouting his frustration at what I had accomplished, Vic shut the crowd up almost immediately. He stepped up to me again, only to stop short upon seeing Oz closer to me than before. Blinking, he looked back at me and started shouting again.

"That was a load of shit, and you know it! A total fluke!" he yelled. Jabbing his finger at me.

"Well of course it was!" I said. "But a win is still a win, dude! And fortunately for me -- unfortunate for you -- I won." I let out a nervous laugh, still acting shaken up over the whole spectacle. "And you know what the wager was~" At first ready to refute our earlier agreement, Ryan chose to cut him off, wearing a rather sour expression himself.

"He beat you fair and square, Vic." he said, now walking up to meet me by his side. "Own up to it, or else you're nothing more than a punk like him." He put great emphasis on the word, likely trying to convey that it wasn't over with just that. Conceding, albeit rather begrudgingly, Vic let out a huff of air and flung his arm up before turning away from me and Oz. The scene finally dying down and the music kicking back up thanks to someone reconnecting the cord I had pulled out by accident, all seemed well, until Ryan stepped up next to me and spoke in a low tone so that only I could hear.

"Live it up while you still can, Nathan." he began, his voice practically trembling with anger at my arrogance. "Just know that I'm not as dumb as Vic." The words that followed instantly left me stunned. "I'll say it again, only a little more clearly this time: you want me to stop messing with that little faggot Briton, then you're better off just telling him to stop being such a pussy. Because..." Pausing before his final sentence, I realized that I had made a terrible mistake that night at the party. One that I couldn't take back.. "... You didn't make that bet with me..."

I only managed to stop one of Briton's bullies... Or so it seemed. At the time, I didn't think even Vic Rockford would stoop so low as to bully someone through their personal life. I clearly underestimated the man's sense of humility... As well as his choice in targets. But more on that later...

Giving my shoulder a hard nudge with his own, Ryan waved to Vic, mumbling something along the lines of "This party turned to shit, let's get out of here.", and left with him. I was practically shaking with fear at what I might have just set in motion; my mind immediately beginning to think of every possible outcome that could be traced back to this very moment. I instantly hated myself again. Everything that had happened over the last few minutes felt like a total dream. Things weren't normal for me and my friends, they weren't fixed... And yet, somehow, I managed to fool myself into thinking that, even for just a fleeting moment at a loud party, life was simple again. I knew I would pay for my mistake later on, but worse than just that; so too would my friends...

"Ryan Chaffon. Vic Rockwell." Violet's words came out, seething with an anger that even Briton could detect. From the moment their names passed through her lips, he felt his body hunch. It was making him nervous, making him scared; he felt small and insignificant compared to what he knew for Violet was an overwhelming desire to beat the shit out of these guys. The only thoughts that came to him were along those lines of 'what have I done? I should have never said anything, even if they were prying!' Much to his worry, she continued her rant, which began to seep into the pit of his gut and give him a terrible aching feeling down there, like he was going to be sick. "Fuck. Just fuck. I'll wipe'em out, Briton. I'm a vigilante after all."

A vigilante, huh? So that was what the girl was calling it. That was what she was calling all this irresponsible, unnecessary fighting. She couldn't just take care of her self? Couldn't leave things alone to take their own course? Why couldn't any of his friends be able to use a bit of their sense lately, it seemed? Putting herself, putting themselves, into a dangerous situation with not a single cause. None of this was effecting any of them, why would it matter? Why didn't they think Briton couldn't handle it on his own? He clenched his jaw while he watched the girl's facial expression. As if they could have taken the pain of all his tormentors, and he couldn't. Not once had he ever cried or broken down or screamed. He wasn't asking for any help, and here they were assuming he needed it. It was a recipe for disaster, wasn't it?

"I'm a fighter. A Super Hero. I kick shithead asses." She continued. His mind was distracted, while the music suddenly cut out, the room stood nearly still for a few moments while the thrusting beat had disappeared, though Violet in all her rage seemed to be too distracted to notice quite exactly what was going on. Briton vaguely searched the immediate area he could see, unable to notice much with so many heads above him, and so much distance between where he stood, and where a commotion of laughter and screeches seemed to be occurring. "So I'm sorry, Briton. Really. Shoulda known that shit was bad for you. Someone like me should've kept you safe. Stopped it from happening at all." Briton's eyes flew immediately back over to Violet, green glistening in the low lighting, emphasized only by how widely he held them open at her in all his nervousness and fear for what she was going to do. He found himself shaking his head. He had to stop this nonsense, he had to stop it right now! He opened his mouth to say something, but not a thing came out. He was finding himself at a loss, dumbfounded for anything inside his throat that could possibly come out.

She let out a cough, and almost on cue, the music had started back up, whatever technical difficulty having been fixed, and instantly causing Briton to jump once more. "Just lettin' you know, okay? I've got your back from now on." She said. "No. One. Will. Lay. Another. Fucking. Hand. On. You."

Briton took a step back from her, eyes still as wide as they could go. He didn't want this, he didn't want it at all! The last thing he wanted was to be protected, to have everyone fussing and worrying over him. They saw him so helplessly, they thought of him as a small, delicate thing that couldn't fend for itself. They weren't thinking of themselves, and in their blind rage at something they didn't understand, they weren't thinking of him either. He knew far better than to let these hotheads get involved, because by the time they figured out what was going on, all there was was "protect mode" and there just wasn't any time left for rational thinking. He heard something vaguely behind him, something that sounded much like on of his tormentors, and quickly made an attempt to step towards Violet, to grab onto her and stop her, to try and talk some sense into her before it was too late, before she did something stupid and got herself hurt! But it was already too late; Vi quickly evaded him, not even noticing his attempt to try and talk to him while she skirted around him with a small "Gotta go," and rushed off, beginning to stumble and seem a bit more incapacitated than before, towards Ryan and Vic.

Briton stared for a moment, horrified, while she connected with them and was lead out towards the exit. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't stop her. He couldn't talk to her, couldn't convince her. If he had just stayed quiet, just ignored Nathan's prompting, everything would have been fine, normal, and everyone could just act as plain and fakely happy as they usually did. This was all his own stupid fault. Forget Nathan for being the idiot who wanted the answer to a question that shouldn't have mattered to him. It was Briton's fault, in the end, because he could have just said no. What could any of them really have done? They would have been mad, sure, but at least those idiots would have been safe.

His eyes scanned quickly, suddenly, until he spotted a couple of familiar faces. Briton found a sudden, odd sort of comfort when his eyes landed on Oz; that sort of feeling that made him want to duck under the other boy's arms, bury his face into his shirt and rest like that where no one could disturb him, where he could pretend that nothing wrong was happening. The feeling, however, was quite so short lived, however, and when his eyes rested down on Nate, he felt that meek anger bubbling up inside him. Not the same anger he'd felt earlier, no. Suddenly, he'd forgiven Nate for asking the mere question, for invading his privacy, for putting him on the spot, but now he was furious for another thing. He was furious that now, rather than Briton alone having to deal with the pain those neanderthals caused, more were going to have to suffer. By the looks of things, by the cooing and jeering still in the room, by the passing calls, by Nate's somewhat disheveled appearance; even this boy had already gotten a bit of the consequence of his idea of "protecting" his friend.

Briton weaved through the crowd swiftly, storming over to the other two boys until coming to a firm stop in front Nate, almost completely ignoring Oz's presence for the moment. "You're an idiot!" Briton yelled at him bitterly, shoving his hands against Nathan's chest, only to have the boy give way a step probably out of pure pity, seeing as there was no was Briton could have shoved anyone with such a lack of strength. "Am I really the only one who has an ounce of common sense??"

He bit his lip, his whole body beginning to show how flustered he was; his brows drew together, causing creases in the skin of his forehead, his chest heaved with breaths that seemed too hard to take, his fists clenched themselves, his limbs quivered. He didn't have anything he could possibly do to fix what had happened, and he felt so powerless. Even more so than he did on any regular basis.

"Y-you just got into a fight, didn't you?" Briton finally uttered, struggling to keep his voice up above the level of the loud music, despite a shake that had begun to encroach upon his throat. "A-and Violet is going to--" He took as deep a breath as he could, trying to stop his lungs from heaving and making it hurt. He dug his top teeth into his bottom lip, rubbing one fist into his throbbing temple. "Don't you get it, yet? Why doesn't anyone realize why I don't want to tell anything to anyone, you're just putting yourselves in danger for no good reason." He shook his head, fully aware that his voice had begun to change to something in between that of a moan and a whine.

He tried to bring in another uneasy breath, but all that came was a round of sudden coughing, forcing him to bend over at the waist, gasp for air, put a hand to his ribs while they ached with each heave of the lungs. God, it hurt. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to go home. His inhaler would have helped. This kind of scene, partnered with his sudden, choking emotions was just getting to be too much. He knew this was going to end badly, and here was just the icing on the cake. Gasping, and forcing himself to straighten out, he took a step away from the other two boys, trying to maintain perhaps an ounce of dignity while he could still pretend he had some in the first place. He closed his eyes, one hand pressing down to his own forehead, the other reaching out and grabbing Oz's wrist for support.

"I have to go home," He breathed out, his words barely even coming out at all, though even without being heard, it was probably too obvious what they were. "I have to go..." His thoughts wavered over to Charlie for a moment, thinking about how he'd told the other boy that he could text him when he was ready to go. He wasn't in any condition for waiting around for that text anymore, now was he? He felt hoarse, he couldn't get words out anymore. When he opened his eyes, the room was harder to see in, the floor seemed to pull at him more. Was he even in condition to drive at all, he wondered? Turning away to look through the crowd absently, and not really processing much of anything he saw while he did so, his hand didn't leave where it rested weakly gripping Oz's wrist.

"I need to tell Charlie I'm leaving," He uttered as loudly as he could manage, before bending slightly again, his hand finally leaving Oz's wrist to cover his mouth while he struggled through the breaths for a few moments. He dropped the hand down to his side after a moment, and shook just a bit. "I hope I can find him soon..." I don't know how much more of this I can take...

Following behind Nate in the crowded room was no small feat, weaving past closely packed bodies that were in constant motion, the incessant beat of the music pulsating throughout the room like it had its own heartbeat. Idly, Oz wondered why the cops hadn't been called by irritated neighbors at this point. The town was small enough that you could probably hear the pure noise from the party as far away as his own house.

It was up to Nate to take point on this little mission, which, much later Oz would harbor some regrets about. However, at that moment, with all the bro-fueled friendliness the greeting got them (perhaps fueled by a bit of a drunken haze, but, hey, no judge), Oz could only offer up his typical lazy smile and a bit of a wave, which quickly morphed into a more bemused smile because what on Earth was Nate saying? "Total Wizard, yo"? But it worked, Ryan crowing enthusiastically before giving Oz a friendly hand-slap. Everything was going smoothly so far, and Oz allowed himself to relax even further if that was at all possible. This could work. This could totally work.

So, when Ryan continued on with, "Killer party, right? Haha!", Oz grinned as if he were talking with a life-long friend instead of a the guy who'd been harassing Briton.

"Man, that's an understatement," He replied, nodding his head and following Ryan's gaze. So maybe loud and crowded parties fueled by adrenaline and booze weren't Oz's cup of tea (the mere fact that he thought things like 'cup of tea' being a primary reason), but this party was enthusiastic and rocking, the creme de la creme of parties if he was any judge.

From there on, Oz kept quiet, watching the conversation unfold. He couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes with the Lacey comment because seriously? Fine piece of ass? If Lacey had heard them, Oz was reasonably sure they'd be nursing more than just a hangover tomorrow. It was like Ryan, Vic, and their little group were walking, talking stereotypes in an after school special, convinced that making lewd comment about women and harassing nice kids like Briton actually made sense in the real world. And maybe he should have said something, should have stepped in and taken over the conversation so that calmer heads would prevail. However, with each sip of generic alcohol Nate took, any good feelings that he'd brokered at the beginning of this conversation began to vanish. Oz could only nod in agreement about Briton being their friend because, well, if he wasn't their friend, why would they be having this conversation in the first place.

"Yup, that's all I got." Even before he opened his mouth, Oz knew that this wasn't going to end well. The friendly atmosphere had effectively dissolved until only a latent animosity was left behind. Still, with all of his ill-placed optimism, Oz had to try. I mean, it could work out, couldn't it?

"I mean, Briton's a nice guy, you know? I'm sure whatever the problem is, we could talk it out. I know you guys are cool, and we're not here to start a fight, so why don't we just keep cool and figure this out, alright?" There was an awkward silence where the music track was begin switched, and, as Ryan's face evolved into something akin to a sneer, Oz knew that the time for negotiations had disappeared a few minutes after they came to the party. His whole rational speech, calm smile, and friendly words may have worked in some other cases, but right now? Not a snowball's chance in Hell.

Now things were escalating quickly, manly pride, testosterone, and liquid courage on Ryan and Vic's side mixing with Nate's fervent desire to defend their friend and the emotion of the situation into a dangerous situation. Maybe calmer heads were prevailing, Oz had to hope when Ryan held his friend back, but those hopes were quickly dashed because whatever Ryan had in mind? Yeah, all Ron Weasley comments aside(the joke was, of course, on him. Oz liked Ron, thanks very much), probably not good. His pride was magnificent to watch, though, smaller than Oz by a few inches and about Nate's size, but maybe he thought that his ego gave him extra strength.

"Now...WE aren't going to accept such an unfair challenge... Unless, of course...YOU want to step up to the plate, Nathan?" Oh, Lord. They just had to challenge Nate, didn't they? Sure he was more their size and Oz was… well, not, but did they really have to choose the person who wanted to fight?

"Nate, man, just forget it," Oz was almost pleading with him at this point, a hand placed solidly on his best friend's shoulder. "This isn't going to end well, let's just go, okay? You shouldn't do this." But even his patent face of Ozzie disapproval that usually worked so well when his friends were about to do something stupid, was ineffective.

Everything was happening too fast now, some stupid game with rules being set up, and then fists were flying. It was all going by too fast, too fast to catch Nate as he fell backwards, back meeting the stage with a resounding crack that Oz could only hope was the temporary booth and not his best friend. But now, now Oz could keep up with what was happening as a near silence fell over the room, and he quickly pulled Nate to his feet, and was, quite unlike his usual self, a flurry of motion, but not at random. Oh, no, each move was calculated and with a certain calmness that no other person in this room possessed because Oz was good in a crisis. He really was. Checking what was surely going to be a nasty bruise on Nate's head, glancing down at the dented DJ stage, all the while whispering, "Nate, come on, let's go. You don't have anything to prove. This is only going to get worse, let's go, let's go."

But Nate only pulled away with a friendly pat and a smile, throwing himself back into the conversation. Now he was proposing a deal, a deal with people who thought that picking on people was fun and that punching someone in the head was even more so. But maybe it wasn't too insane, maybe Nate did have a plan because now he was picking at one of their greatest weaknesses- their pride. If he could pull this off, miraculous thought it may be because Nate wasn't a fighter, maybe it could work…?

And, just like that, he did. Vic went toppling over and there was a moment of disbelieving silence before the room erupted in drunken cheers, whoops of excitement that the underdog had won, or maybe just thrilled that they got to see a fight. Nate seemed as surprised as anyone, perhaps a little too much so, but he was clasping Oz's hand, and the taller boy could only squeeze back, surprise evident on his own face. Even Vic struggling back to his feet couldn't quell the excitement as he took a few steps towards them before stopping short, and maybe Oz just realized why. He was looming closer over Nate's shoulder now, nearly pressed against him in the small space provided by the enthusiastic mob. Was someone seriously scared of him? Seriously? Oz hadn't fought anyone since, what, the second grade, and that had been more of a play fight than anything.

Everyone was dispersing now, slowly going back to whatever they'd been doing as the music restarted and Ryan managed to pull Vic back from, if not starting a round two, then just shouting stupidly. But any peace that had come from this fight vanished in just a few words as Ryan walked over to Nate and hissed out a threat before vanishing with his posse to lick their wounded prides. Nate was slightly trembling now, and Oz bit his lip, hand reaching out to wrap around Nate's shoulders only to meet with empty space. Briton, who against all odds had decided to come, had given Nate a push and was clearly furious with him, spitting out accusations and then there was something about Violet that Oz didn't understand. He must have been the only one not in the loop because Nate was off like a shot and Oz was left alone with Briton who was, well, who was having some sort of asthma attack, and since when did Briton have asthma?

Briton was wheezing, grabbing onto Oz for support, but it was like Oz wasn't even there. He basically hadn't been there since the party started and he'd spotted Ryan and Vic on the other side of the room, words going mainly unheard, helping people up, not being told anything as Briton and Nate had their half conversation that had Nate racing away, and now begin used as a physical support for Briton who seemed to have forgotten that Oz was more than just a standing post for the moment. And that was fine. It was all fine. It didn't bother him at all. Not one… not one bit. At least he could help here. He could do that.

He wrapped a gangly but solid arm around Briton who was bent over and struggling to breathe.

"Briton." His voice was calm, too calm as he bent over as well until he was on the same level as Briton. "Briton, I'm going to get you home. Let me text Charlie, okay? Then we'll go to your car and I can take you home. Can you move now? It's fine if you just need to stay here for a minute." His tone was soothing as he rubbed Briton's back in calming circles because he didn't know what else to do and he wasn't about to move Briton or send off a text until he was sure his first call shouldn't be to 911. Was this asthma? A lingering cough? He had no idea, but he could certainly pretend like he did.

"You're weird today."Briton's words cut through the air nearly sending Charlie's heart thumping out of his chest at the sudden visit of unwelcome words. Charlie looked down at his shoes feeling his face growing red.

Was it really that obvious? Charlie wondered sneaking a glance at Briton who was crawling akwardly and cutely onto his bed before he fumbled with the tv remote. He really needed to get better at hiding his feelings, Charlie noted trying to straighten up and act as if the words didnt bother him the best way he could.

"I um... uh..." Briton mumbled seeming to be a bit apologetic before claiming they were going to watch a movie.

Charlie only shrugged just happy that the subject was being changed.

Actually enjoying the pick of the movie Charlie watched it intently, his mind slowly fading into the movie as he slipped away from his life problems and into the action and adventure of the fifth element.

"I just gotta change my clothes, I almost forgot." Charlie nodded not really grasping what Briton had said as he continued to watch the end of the movie, to engrossed in it to understand his words.

Charlie's brow furrowed at the sudden flurry of flying pants passing through his peripheral vision. Turning in his seat his eyes landed on a half naked Briton, his shirt beginning to be pulled over his head. He looked even more scrawny and small than Charlie imagined, though its not really like Charlie had ever imagined what his friend looked like naked....

Bruises lay across his bare skin some looking newer than others.

"Briton..." Charlie whispered horrified.

The boy turned giving Charlie the cold shoulder as he pulled on socks.

"Alright, come on," Briton finally said after what felt like an eternity to Charlie. Getting up silently and following Briton out his apartment and to the car, the air became thick and awkward.

---

The loud sound of the music drifted out the house and across the street greeting Charlie where he sat in Briton's car parked about a house down from the teenage crowded party.

"Ready?" Charlie asked gently, concerned at the way his friend seemed to be growing pale just looking at the crowds of people.

Charlie hopped out of the car, deciding on giving Briton as much time as he needed to get out the car and build up to go into the party where no doubtfully Briton's aggressors would be.

"I'm only going in for a few minutes! I'll probably leave early, too, so just text me if you need a ride home later." Briton called receiving a thumbs up from Charlie before the loud blonde sunk into the bodies of people.

"Hey Charles man what's up?" Charlie was greeted as soon as he entered the sea of people, turning around to find the sound of the voice he grinned at his auburn haired friend. "Hey Mike."

"Man where've you been?" Mike asked after giving his friend a bro hug.

Charlie shrugged as his eyes involuntarily scoped the room for Briton.

"Jake's already upstairs gettin some." His friend smirked at him before pointing at a group of girls who were giggling and chatting as they sipped from cups in their hands. "Punch's already spiked, though most people just went straight for the alcohol."

"Damn guessed I missed a lot then." Charlie muttered as his eyes traveled down a girls body who was wearing one of the tightest tank tops and shortest shorts he had ever seen. Another grin made its way across his face as he realized he was checking a girl out and actually liked it. I knew I wasn't gay, Charlie thought relieved.

The faint nudge of an elbow to his ribs made Charlie break his gaze from the girl and look over at Mike.

"Two girls, three o'clock. I call the one on the right." Mike muttered before throwing a slight smirk on.

Charlie quickly ran a hand through his hair out of habit.

"Hey boys." A petite looking brunette said her words slurring together, already heavily intoxicated.

"Ladies." Charlie smiled, first checking out the small brunette before glancing over at the taller punk looking girl, her hair a jet black.

The punk looking girl muttered something under breath and rolled her eyes. She looked like she could careless about being here, and she just so happened to be the girl on the left.

"You look familiar, do I know you from somewhere?" Mike asked leaning in towards the brunette nonchalantly as he spoke.

The girl giggled slightly. " I sit next to you in english, silly."

"Oooo how are you going to recover from that one." The other girl chuckled amused.

"Alli, quit it." The brunette hissed receiving a glare from Alli, as the two began to try and stare the other one down.

"Why don't we go dance." Mike interrupted the two smoothly.

"Uhh sure," The brunette smiled. "Why dont you look after my friend while I'm away." She daintly placed a hand on Charlie's forearm, but kept her eyes on Alli, before walking off in Mike's arms.

"Well guess that just leaves you and-" Charlie stopped midsentece as the girl began to walk away. "Hey where are you going?" He gently grabbed the girls forearm. Only to be roughly shaken off. "Where do you think I'm going." Alli rolled her eyes and stared at Charlie as if he was dumb. "Unlike my ditzy friend, I don't roll that way." With that she walked off leaving Charlie standing there with his mouth open.

The sudden absence of music only breaking him out of his trance as he looked away from Alli's retreating figure.

"What the?" He muttered, lightly touching his ears feeling weird that the loud pounding of music that had accompanied him since he walked in was gone. Making his way over to the crowd of people, Charlie stood on his tippy toes, unable to get a good view, he did his best to push through people, but was still unable to really see anything.

"Hey Trevor what going on here?" Charlie asked spotting one of his friends who was now cheering with the rest of the people around him.

"Some random guy just showed Vic Rockford up." Trevor laughed obviously stoked at the notion.

"Who?" Charlie asked appalled at the idea of someone wanting to try and show up the popular, muscled jock.

"Ehh, I don't know, I think his name is somethin that starts with an N."

Charlie's eyes widened, Nate. He didnt. There were a lot of people at the party with a name beginning with the letter N, but Charlie had a strong feeling that Nate was the one who had 'showed Vic up'. He could have at least called me for backup. Charlie thought slightly annoyed.

The sudden return of music only made Charlie more annoyed as he tried to push through the crowds of people.

"Am I really the only one who has an ounce of common sense??" Charlie caught the fragment of a conversation as he spotted Nate, Oscar and Briton.

"Hey Charlie want to dance?" A girl suddenly blocked his path a drink was firmly clutched in her hand, while the other was now pressed against the blonde's chest.

"Not right now." Charlie answered irritated as he watched Nate dash out the door.

"What's stuck up your ass?" The girl growled back before moving on.

Charlie began walking again, picking up his pace as he watched Briton double over coughing. He only slowed down slight after seeing the dyed blonde grasp Oz's wrist and then altogether come to a complete stop as he watched Oz rub Briton's back.

Charlie's heart dropped as he watched the two. Briton probably enjoyed the physical encounter between him and Oz, it probably wasnt awkward as it had been between them when they were at his house. Briton was probably even smiling, just the way he had when Oscar had ruffled his hair, well if he could with the lack of air he was getting, either way he was probably enjoying it.

Charlie began walking again, pushing past the two and unnecessarily shoving Oz as he exited the house.

That party was lame anyway, Charlie thought sourly kicking a rock as he walked alone down the dark sidewalk. Why did he even care what Briton and Oscar did together. They were both friends they could do whatever the hell they wanted together, he had no say.

Letting out a frustrated breath he roughly pulled a hand through his hair yanking out a few strands in the process.

"VIOLET!!" A clearly frustrated and worried voice rang through the streets barely reaching Charlie's ears.

"Nate?!" Charlie called out thinking he recognized the voice.

The voice sounded distress and Charlie was pretty sure it was Nate, he had seen him dash out of the house, so it would make sense.

Charlie began running, calling Nate's name out again, hoping his friend and Violet were okay.

At least this situation was something to keep his mind off of Briton and Oz who were probably all over each other by now. Charlie picked up speed at the thought just barely making out a running figure in front of him. There was no way he would catch up to him, he was already starting to lose his breath not use to the sudden heavy exercise. Well at least he could try, he had already let Nathan down in the brawl against him and Briton's bullies, he wasnt going to do it again.

Samuel Westhouse

Sam didn't stop running again, not waiting to see if he got a response. He needed to keep track of the car. He skidded around the corner to see it parked at the end of the road. As he neared, he saw a smaller figure stumble out of the house. Shit. The figure walked down the driveway, paused, then crumpled. Sam had to stop running, because if he kept going at that pace he was going to trip and wipe out. Then he wouldn't be any use to anyone. His body shaking with the force of his run, he stumbled the last few feet to the form on the ground.

"Fuck, Violet?" He mumbled. God, if she was dead...Or concussed....or just unconscious... he didn't know what to do. No...no...she was moving...she was alive. "Violet?" He said again, his voice hoarse. He reached out for her form, finding her face. She was hot, but there was no bruising on her face. Good sign. What did he do now? He needed to take her somewhere else. Call an ambulance or something. Find whoever it was that had been yelling for Violet and get him to call.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, trying to gather her up in his arm. Everything was moving sporadically, it was if multiple scenes were playing over one another. As if this had happened before, just in a different way...a different life.... it didn't matter now though. He just had to get her to safety. He could feel her back in his hands, and one of her ribs was shifting in its seat. Actually, she must have suffered damage to her chest. Had they been kicking her? Where were they now?

He really needed to get away. Now. Before they came out. He felt like he was about to be sick, and he couldn't defend himself and Violet at the same time.

The fireman carry wouldn't do here, not if her ribs were damaged, that would be too painful. The rational part of his brain made him stand up, holding her. "Don't move." He told her, trying to get his legs to run again. Adrenaline was still mixing with the booze in his blood, which made for a wobbly but intense scene in his brain. He managed to start running again. He had to get back to the others. Nate'd know what to do.

He wanted to yell at the girl, but there was no time. No time to tell her that she could be dead right now because she'd gotten herself into a big mess. No time for anything but skidding around the corner. Sam ran until he encountered another figure. Actually, more than one. Nate? Charlie?

"Nate!" He called out, his voice raw. "Nate, she's fucking hurt, you need to help her." The sight of the others flooded him with relief that weighed his legs down with exhaustion. Why had that been such a terrifying experience? He knelt down, laying Violet on the sidewalk gently. Nate would have to come over there because he couldn't move anymore.

He was too busy recalling memories that weren't his. Maybe he was going crazy? The sight of Violet laying on the ground had brought up memories that couldn't be pushed back down. Memories of dead friends that weren't familiar. Dead Paige. Dead Cora. Dead Nate. Dead Briton. But they didn't look like themselves. But there were other memories too. Of the ER. Of being ripped apart by a bullet. Of hanging out at the front of the school with kids he didn't recognize but knew instinctively as his friends.

It fell into place, and he thought he was going to be sick. He remembered all this shit. He was going to die. They all were. Even if it wasn't this moment, they were going to die in the near future. But not for the first time. Sam crawled away from Violet, opting instead to lay on his side in the grass, trying not to puke. He really shouldn't have drunk anything at all. He couldn't take this. Not now.

His face was slick with sweat, and he was still gasping for breath, but he managed to open his eyes to see if Nate was taking care of Violet.

"Her rib is broken. Chest trauma." He croaked out.