Samuel Westhouse's Story

Samuel Westhouse

Somehow, the older he got, the less he cared. School felt incredibly pointless. Teachers just droned about things, claiming they would be useful in the future...Yeah. He'd already called that bullshit. As of now, he walked a very fine line just on the edge of truancy. He hadn't dropped out, no, because there were still people at school he needed to see on occasion, and a free lunch at the school was very much needed, but he did make the effort to do what he pleased when he felt like it. Even the little things held solace. Wandering the halls instead of sitting tied to a class. The teachers knew him. He was pretty notorious, actually. Not by his own doing. If he was caught in the halls, the teacher would earn a blank, unknowing stare, enough to send chills down anyone's spine. They'd had talks with his mother about if he was all there upstairs, but results remained inconclusive because Sam refused any kind of testing the school system or his mother tried to force own his throat. So here he was, wandering. He knew he wasn't going to graduate, but did it really matter anymore?

The soccer ball in his hands made a hollow thunk as he beat the underside of it with a loose fist, popping it up about of foot in the air before catching it. Once he'd done well at school for the mere reward of being able to play on a team. Now he just played by himself and called it good. Better than sitting in class, jumping through hoops, thinking about an inconclusive future. To be quite honest, he was rather skeptic about his future. There were chances for him to go to college, his mother didn't have enough to send anyone anywhere, and he didn't want to go to the work of passing his classes to stay on the team so some stupid recruiter could find him and offer him scholarships. It all just seemed so bleak.

Mmm...Sam could feel his mind going dark. He needed to find someone else and fill his brain up with cheery nonsense again. It was a cycle, and his best excuse as to the reason he was friends with such an eclectic group of people. They were good though, and that was all that mattered. They kept him in the present, which was alive, bursting with sensations, laughter, and personality, rather than the bleary future.

Who would still be in class? He glanced at his watch without really seeing the numbers, then slid his hand into his pocket, the other one still cradling the soccer ball. He poked his head in the window of one classroom, the teacher of which paid no attention to him. The other contents of the class, however, all turned their eyes to him, and he withdrew quickly. Well, he wouldn't do that again. He didn't even know what period it was, how was he supposed to know where his friends were to break them out?

Perhaps he'd merely haunt the halls until fortune turned his way or the final bell let loose the floodgates. Walking around when there were so many others about was slightly unpleasant, but it wasn't too terrible. No one really bothered him, after all, he was a nothing boy but he could pack a punch when he needed to. Nobody crossed him or his friends. Well, mostly his friends. He didn't care a lick what people thought about him. What did it really matter? Popularity was a facade, and reputation was easily forgotten. Sam had more important things to worry about. Like shaving his sprint times down and working one how best to hit the metaphorical wall in the longs runs so he would be able to run on vapors for as long as he could.

Maybe Paige would be up for a round of something? Wherever she was? He couldn't keep everyone's schedule in his brain. he barely knew what classes he was supposed to be going to at any given time. Paige was pretty cool, she gave him some competition, and she was talkative enough that he really didn't have to think of anything else. Sometimes it seemed that she knew something he didn't but he never really pressed the matter. Just thinking about it made his spine tremble though. Like something just wasn't right. Oh well. No matter. He just needed to stop dwelling in his dark inner thoughts for a bit.

Sam began to make his way out of the knot of halls within the school towards the exit, looking for Paige, or anyone really, on his way. He wouldn't put his head back up to the glass on any door again, but he did try to glance into every room he went by. He'd let Fate put her hands in things again, for better or worse.

Lacey moved robotically, letting Amber do what she will with her. It didn't matter to her that her skin was all blotchy and red and that she probably looked beyond a hot mess. Was there even a thing like that? She let those thoughts puzzle her as Amber helped her clean her face and walked her out of the bathroom.

Why couldn't she have family like Amber? She had perfectionists who didn't give a damn about her. Hell, Lacey didn't even give a damn about Lacey. A not-even-amused smirk crossed her face for a split second. Amber loved her - like, loved her loved her. It was that love Gracie should have for her instead of the slight jealousy mixed with false affection she shows. Amber's love for her reached a level that may even surpass Lacey's mother's.

Nobody likes Lacey.

She then glanced at Amber, who still had concern on her face. She faintly heard Amber say something about inviting someone and followed the beautiful - why was everyone else beautiful and Lacey was so fucking average? - girl's gaze to Nathan Miller. Lacey's own eyes narrowed for a second. She did not understand her relationship with Nate yet. Were they really friends? Did she simply bide his time? Plus, with the dreams, there was always something about him that stirred Lacey wrong...

"Sure," Lacey replied. She then extended her voice to the male lying down, not caring if he was sleeping or not. "Nathan! Nate! Come with us! We're getting milkshakes." Sighing, Lacey pulled out her phone. She muttered to Amber, "Might as well make a shindig out of it. I'm texting everyone." She sent a mass text to everyone, inviting their group to get milkshakes if they wanted to come. Who cared about school anyway? Mom does, her mind taunted and she told it to go fuck itself. Lacey managed a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes at Amber. "Thanks...for coming."

Not wanting to further be emotional, Lacey plastered an even bigger smile on her face and slid into the passenger seat while Amber moved to the driver's. Glancing at Nathan quickly, she banged on the horn. "Come on, Nate! Get up already!!"

Samuel Westhouse

Back out into the sweet fresh air, a sudden rumbling startled the youth. Not his stomach, but his phone, that ancient thing. It's vibrate setting was like an old console controller, with the ability to jerk and commit suicide off the table with merely one text. He had a limited plan, but it was no big deal. He rarely texted anyone anyway. Sometimes he did receive texts though. Like now. It was Lacy. He glanced through the short message. Milkshakes? Why not? Well, he wasn't going to drink one, but he needed a bit of a break from himself. Such breaks were becoming increasingly necessary, especially of late. His mind had once been such a quiet, calm place, but bleak blackness was quickly overtaking everything else within the wrinkles of his mind.

The phone was flipped shut and dropped back into his pocket just as Sam fell into an easy jog. He hadn't brought his bike today, and there was no way in hell he could drive anywhere. he'd never actually learned how to drive a car, which was just as well, because he couldn't afford to pay for gas anyway. Especially after he quit his job at that stupid fast food place down the road. Very quickly the faint exertion of his run took over, leaving him only able to think in simple thoughts.

Maybe I'm depressed? He contemplated. It was a possibility. But he didn't feel particularly down. Everything felt pointless, but he was okay with it, in away. He wasn't doing anything to remedy it. He wasn't complaining. He was fine. So maybe he wasn't depressed. Okay then, so what was wrong with him? The other members of the group probably hadn't noticed the change, he really didn't say much anyway, and when he did he rarely showed how he was really feeling. He couldn't go to them for help. They had their own problems anyway. he could see it in the corners of their eyes and the way they tried to smile and failed. Sometimes it was Lacy, sometimes it was Briton, sometimes it was Nate. Oftentimes he saw stress in Nate. He kept his thoughts to himself though. If someone needed to talk to him about what was bothering them he was more than happy to listen, and they knew that. He wasn't going to stick his nose in anyone else's business, and he expected them to do the same for him.

At the same time, he couldn't help but feel protective of the little group. They meant a lot to him, even if they didn't do much for him. There was a certain air of rightness about being with the group, one that ceaselessly pulled him in and helped him sort through the details. he didn't want anything to happen to any of his friends, and that feeling grew as they days passed, in conjunction with a horrible sensation in the pit of his stomach that told him that something very, very bad was going to happen soon.

As he made it to the little joint where an unknown amount of his friends were, Sam came to a halt. He registered The back of Oz's head disappearing into the place. There were two familiar cars in the small lot, so the group most likely wasn't complete, but close to being so. With his ball still hanging loosely, held only with one hand, he trotted into the place, letting his heart rate settle down. It hadn't been a strenuous jog, just enough to get his well oiled joints moving again. The constant itch to stay in motion lingered in the back of his mind as he paused in the door. Oz and Briton had chairs pulled around the booth where pretty much everyone else was sitting. He let another beat go by before moving over, his body as tiredly liquid as ever. despite his thirst for activity, he had an incredibly lazy appearance, sleepy eyes and tousled hair.

Sam snatched a chair, spinning it around and sliding backwards into it, following the lead of the other two boys. His soccer ball sat trapped between his chest and the back of his chair. "Hey guys." He murmured, folding his arms on the lip of the chair-back and staring interestedly at the group from his vantage point. No witty comment, nothing cute or smart, just him. Plain and simple.

Click! That was the sound of my pocket-watch snapping shut rather loudly, timed in to follow Amber's clear announcement of possibly asking that waiter out to the party that I didn't want to go to. I looked over at Amber out of the corner of my eyes for a sec before sliding back to face the table once more, a troubled expression on my face. This was starting to get annoying, because I didn't know why I was annoyed in the first place. Amber isn't...her... At least not right now... So why would I be jealous? That was when I figured it must be something else. Maybe that waiter simply didn't sit right with me or something... Either way, I chose to shrug it off once again. I had more important things to worry about than some troublesome waiter moving in on Amber. He wasn't even that good-looking if you ask me, so what was the big deal...? Whatever the case, it was a big enough deal to look nice for him... Amber was now talking with Lacey about what she should wear. Little did she know, it didn't matter what she wore; she'd look good either way.

I rested my arms on the table, with my fingers interlocked together, creating a ring made of my arms and chest, with my milkshake at the center as I took a few more sips from the straw of the rich treat. That's when Violet's expression suddenly changed into a very dangerous one. Well, dangerous for HER, anyway. This usually happened when I was in the room, and something devious popped into her head. And it almost always involved... you guessed it: messing with me. Not long after she thought it through, she derailed my plan to escape from the party invitation by offering to skip the party as well so that we could meet up after I'm done with work. Crap. She saw through it. Now it was obvious to me just how obvious I was being earlier at school. I should have never got up off the ground when Lacey called out to me... Oh well, only thing left to do is to try and persuade her otherwise.

"I love spending time with you, Vi, it's just that I've been real busy lately..." I said, giving her a smile before adding "Like I said; I might have to work tonight. I never know with my boss... So who knows? Maybe I'll have the chance to go to the party. I'll text you guys if I can." I said, glancing at a few others. Giving myself this rather weak get-out clause, I hoped that saying this would put in her head that she should leave it alone. I pat the back of her hand and get back to my milkshake, which was beginning to weigh on my stomach. Hoping this would be enough to make her back off... Right. This is Violet I'm talking about... I don't see her giving up on this so easily... As if on que, following in after Briton, who I greeted in response with a simple smile and a "hello", was none other than Oscar "Oz" Glass: Nathan Miller's best friend. I grinned at him and gave a greeting as well, while noticing how exhausted he appeared to be. Did he walk all the way here from school? Before I could ask, however, Violet leaned over to him and whispered something into his ear after giving Briton a playful comment. Just as I was thinking I might be able to persuade Violet to leave me alone for the night, a possible partner in crime decides to show up. No offense, Oz. Violet was unbelievably transparent during times like these... It was obvious that whatever she just whispered to him had something to do with me, and if she were to get Oz involved, it'd be that much harder to avoid this party, because it'll be that much harder to avoid getting caught in my lie... I hurried with a counter-measure by speaking sincerely to Violet.

"Look, Vi... Unless I catch a break later tonight, how about we just make plans to hang out some other time? Just the two of us?" I say, giving her a nice smile. The way I said it really didn't suggest much from the sound of my voice, but if Violet really did have feelings for me, she might have taken that as an invitation to spend some time with me alone on a more personal level; something she wouldn't be able to do at a party full of people. Truth was, we haven't spent any quality time together for a long while now... Same goes for Oscar, who I'm sure is starting to feel it annoy him in the back of his mind. Soon I would have to make up for all this, but for now, I'll start with Violet, who was currently acting as my most formidable enemy with this sudden tactic of trying to catch me with my foot in my mouth. Unfortunately for her, that wouldn't happen.

These people, as much as I love them, are always one of my greatest obstacles in trying to find a proper solution to our situation. Heh, the people I'm trying to save are the ones who get in the way of that more than anything else. Ironic, don't you think? Then again, it's my fault it's such a problem in the first place... Maybe if I had told them the truth a long time ago, they wouldn't be so hindering. Rather, they might be more helpful... But I can't do that. I can't bring them in on this... It's my fault. It's my responsibility to fix it. Even if it means I have to keep alienating my friends...

If my little ploy didn't work, and even worse yet -- if Oz decided to go along and help Violet trap me further, then I would find it relatively difficult to avoid either getting caught in my lie, or going to the party... If this happens, then I would be going to the party for sure, because Oscar can be very convincing, even if you know he's trying to convince you, and Violet was never one to give up if she finds a challenge in something. Or someone... Working together against someone like me, it was pretty much a given that I would be going to that Godforsaken party... Not that I couldn't just refuse flat-out, but then it would look even more suspicious after I tried to persuade her otherwise. It would just be too hard to avoid the party any other way... But I still held hope in that I was able to persuade Violet otherwise with my rather underhanded method of distraction, and that Oz would refuse to play Violet's game...

After my attempts at giving Violet something else to focus on, I couldn't help notice that the knee area of Briton's pants were soaked through with something rather dark. I recognized it instantly to be that of blood. Looking up at him, a little worried, I chose to keep quiet, just as I had with Violet's bloody hand. It wasn't my place to get involved in private matters like these if I wasn't asked... If it had happened right in front of me, however, then I would have no choice but to step in. Either way, Briton's bullying was beginning to aggravate me with each passing incident. This guy could never catch a break. Each life, he seemed to draw the short end of the stick, and it was all because of me that he was still going through it... I'm afraid that one day, I might just snap and make it stop. Once and for all. I know of at least three people who harass Briton for sure, and I'm certain they're the most common bullies in his life. This will become a serious problem after the last birthday, I'm sure... But until then, I'll let him choose how to go about revealing his troubles, should he ever.

Shortly after Briton and Oscar showed up, Samuel Westhouse popped into the diner and sat himself off to the side of the table. He looked the same as always. Calm, simple, rather indifferent towards most things, yet always there to greet his friends. Most would probably say that he was just keeping up with appearances, but if you actually knew him, that just wouldn't make any sense. There wasn't anything to gain from that in the least. Not for someone like Sam, anyway. He was one who, like me, chose not to get involved with someone else's problems unless they wanted him to. Sam was Sam, and that was something I admired about him. Him, along with every one of my friends, always gave me many good reasons to respect them. And they've never let me down once. Wish I could say the same about myself...

The sound of scribbling, turning pages, and a dry erase marker on the board filled the small math classroom. Everyone was doing their part, well everyone except one. Leaning towards the board, eyebrows furrowed and a confused frown on her face Paige sat in the front of the classroom. Her hazel eyes following every movement her math teacher made as she tried to take in what he was explaining.

Equations covered the board, though all of it looked like a foreign language to Paige.

A confused sigh escaped her lips as she became lost in the sea of equations floating adrift in the number's unforging water as she tried to reach the answer but failed. It never failed no matter how hard she tried, she could never grasp the concept of learning, not just in math, but in basically every subject. Academics just rejected her, to put it simply.

"Any questions?" The boring nasally voice of the balding man at the front of the class, brought Paige out of the state of her learning depression and back into his class.

Deciding on not sounding like a complete idiot Paige decided not to raise her hand, and instead avoided the eyes of her teacher. Looking over to the door, she caught a quick glimpse of Sam with his soccerball before he disappeared. The small glass window installed on the door no longer showing his image. Paige wanted to get up and follow after him, but the nagging voice of her mom and dad complaining about her grades kept her rooted to her chair.

Bitting down softly on the eraser of her pencil, Paige glanced back at the board to see Mr.Averil had erased the previous problems and was now starting on a new set.

A sudden jolt of vibration coming from her right leg made her jump causing a few eyes to turn to her. Blushing slightly she quickly pulled out her phone hiding it from Mr.Averil's view.

Milkshakes with Lacey and others, hmm sounds way better than school. Paige thought glancing at the clock and noticing only forty minutes of school remained.

"School's almost out, I wouldn't be missing anything important." Paige mumbled trying to coax herslef into ditching the rest of math.

Staring at the door longingly, Paige only had mere seconds to hide her phone before Mr.Averil passed her, setting something down on her desk. What lay on her desk made Paige re-think ditching.

A huge red D+ lay on the front of her math test, signaling once again the wall that was blocking any information from entering her brain had won again.

I'll catch up with you guys after school. Have fun :D Paige quickly texted back staring bitterly at the test before retunring the phone to her pocket.

"40 minutes that's all I have to endure." Paige grumbled unhappily watching as Mr.Averil returned to the front of the classroom.
-----

With her backpack slung across her shoulders and her helmet on Paige set off for the famous milkshake diner on her bike. Getting there in a matter of minutes Paige quickly jumped of the thing hoping that everyone was still there.

Paige sighed relived seeing everyone there except Cora. Shrugging she bounced over to her friends.

"Sorry I'm late!" She breathed taking a seat next to Sam. "So am I the only one that has yet to order?"

Snatching the ball away from Sam, Paige smirked at him. "You should let me beat you sometime." She teased throwing it up in the air before catching it.

"I'm starving I think I may order something more than just a milkshake." Paige continued tucking Sam's soccer ball under her arm instead of giving it back. Dropping her book bag on the ground Paige caught drift of Nate saying something to Violet about a party.

"Wait there's a party?" Paige asked raising an eyebrow honestly feeling a little left out about not knowing.

Seated as he was, surrounded by friends in the diner he'd been going to since even before he could remember, the familiarity of the situation was comforting, relaxing Oz as he slouched in his seat, any semblance of good posture vanishing as he reclined. The chair wasn't exactly comfortable- it was one of those garden variety ones that were good for a quick meal but not for comfort- and he could feel the sweat already drying on his neck leaving him feeling a little sticky. Still, chairs, sweat, and exhaustion besides, it was days like this that he lived for, a soothing routine to lull him into the falsity that everything was just how it had always been. The chorus of subdued hellos made it seem all the more normal. Well, as normal as there eclectic group got which was, admittedly, not very. All of them seemed infamous in their own way at school and, indeed, in the town for various reasons whether they be positive or negative, a mix of clashing personalities that somehow managed to be in the same room long enough for them to not all kill each other.

He didn't even bat an eye when Violet invaded his personal space, so close that he could practically feel her mischievous smile for that moment, instead leaning his head obediently towards her to catch her whispered words. It didn't take much effort to realize the subject of their little clandestine conversation; Nate. Violet and Nate had always been close and Oz and Violet's collective worry about him served as much as a bonding tool between the two friends as anything else. Admittedly, they worried about him in different ways. Violet was always the dynamic one, eager, or perhaps too eager, to act as soon as a thought flitted across her mind. Oz, on the other hand, was content to worry alone, to wait back and worry, much preferring someone to come to him if something was wrong rather than to poke and prod them actively.

It was still odd, however, that she was asking him of all people. In recent years their relationship seemed to be slowly unravelling for a reason Oz couldn't really fathom. He didn't know when it had started, even if he had a good inkling as to why, but the two no longer hung out by themselves, only when someone else (usually Nate for obvious reasons) was around. It had hurt, of course, but in the end, it was Violet's choice.

Still, despite their slightly strained relationship, the offer was tempting and he felt a lazy smile forming on his own face, eyes flickering to his best friend for a moment. It was as much an answer as any, given the circumstances. As passive as he was, Violet could practically just grab him by the wrist and tag him along with little protest from the teenager. Besides, maybe it was the time to be active for once in his life, and if had gotten to a point where Oz was agreeing to one of Violet's harebrained schemes, then this worry for Nate was getting out of hand.

"Our secret," He agreed, holding up a finger to his lips with a friendly little wink as she pulled away and he slouched again against his seat. Nate was talking to Violet now, offering a one-on-one hanging out session. Which didn't bother him, not really, he decided as he waved a waiter over(not, as it turned out, the cute one who had been getting everyone's attention today), ordering a strawberry milkshake to go(to go, of course, because this little impromptu get-together already seemed to be winding down of its own accord). Oz prided himself on being a low-maintenance friend like he was a low-maintenance son; it makes others life easier on everyone involved which held a satisfaction all its own.

Before he could speak again, others of their little friend group started filing in, Sam first with his eternally lazy expression belying his amazing athletic ability. No sooner had Oz offered him his own lazy greeting then Paige bounced in, finding her way to the table and snatching Sam's ball away in lieu of greeting.

He turned his attention away long enough to receive his milkshake, the styrofoam container doing a perfect job hiding the drink's chill, and had just taken a sip of his long-awaited milkshake when Paige asked about a party. A party? Oz scoured his mind, searching for any mention of a party, but he couldn't think of anything really. Maybe he hadn't been paying attention....?

"What party are we talking about?" He echoed Paige's words, head tilted to one side in a mild sort of curiosity. He wasn't really all that interested; parties were fun and all, but he'd be just as happy sitting around anywhere with friends.

"The whole crew! Now, the party's started!" Lacey exclaimed and greeted all the others, a big and excited grin on her face. She didn't care what anyone had to say, didn't care about how much the more popular students disliked her choice of friends, or even how much her parents judged them. This group - this group right here - they were real friends. Granted, they were all very interesting yet different individuals. In another life - why did that leave her with a sinking feeling - none of them would talk. She and Amber would, definitely. Her and Violet, probably. But all of them as a whole? It wouldn't make any sense.

But now.

Here and now?

This made all the sense in the world.

Lacey released her straw with a "pop", licking her lips of the chocolate peanut-butter concoction. Her eyebrows rose with glee at Paige's inquiry and she picked out one of her fries before talking. "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." She directed her gaze at Nathan, Briton, and Violet especially. "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."

It was no secret that Nathan and Lacey weren't the closest. They were friends, yes, but she always felt like Nathan always saw her as just Amber's friend or that bubbly blonde chick. And while she was bubbly most of the time, it still felt almost like an insult. She tried to include him in a lot of things - she really did. But he was sooo difficult. Still smiling so as not to feel like frowning and showing her inner turmoil, Lacey munched on a few fries, grinning at the taste of brown sugar.

And the whole both Amber and Violet wanted a little Nathan action was beyond irritating. Plus, it put a strain on Lacey's psyche. She was Amber's best friend. But she was also Violet's close friend and bandmate. Lacey didn't do triangles. Either you liked this person or that person. There was no in-between for her, which is why she hadn't honestly thought about her romantic relationships in awhile. This was high school. There weren't a lot of guys she could think of that would be interested in monogamous relationships that possibly would result in marriage or just long-time commitments. She might sound old for that, but it was how Lacey felt.

I'm over this high school shit.

"And you know I've got your back with fashion, tonight, Amber," she told the redhead, flashing her best friend a big and bright smile. "But I was kinda hoping that the girls - if you're all up for it - would just raid my closet. You guys know that I have clothes for days; I can find everyone something. We can make it a girl night and we all pile up in Amber's car." She tossed the boys' an unsympathetic but jovial smirk. "Sorry, no guys allowed."

Pretty much everyone's here now. And with Oz; that guy who Violet really had no idea what to think of him or what to even say about to him; that... that guy in on the plot to pretty much either force Nate to give in and hang out with the at the party, or at least double-team stalk him to figure out why he's always hiding shit from the rest of 'em. Sure, it's true, Vi's real reason for all this was because she really really wanted that dance with him, but still. That doesn't mean she isn't worried at all about his distant behavior the last few years. It was troubling, of course it was, one day he was incredibly close with her; the next he almost completely detached himself. The only thing she can really think of is some sort of trauma, or something. Did he get beat up? Would that even make him turn into this hang out hater?

What if it was somethin' like when that bad guy took me?

She shivered, and refocused on the group. Samuel, was there, just being plain ol' Samuel, doing his little 'Hey Guys'. Totally and utterly neutral, and while they were in the same friend group, Vi had trouble trying to think of what's going through this guy's head. She's not particularly interested either, just thinking of him as the random guy that's buddies with pretty much everyone. And there's nothing wrong with that, right? She can't remember ever having a real talk with the guy, but, well, Vi has trouble remembering what she ate just this morning, so she doesn't really trust what's in that head of hers.

Nate's offer to have some private time together later was, to be honest, incredibly hard for her to resist. But, damnit, she didn't want time later, she wanted it now! Or otherwise, she wanted to get rid of whatever's bugging the hell out of her oldest friend, violently or however the heck you get rid of problems! He'd probably find a way to back out of it too. Despite all that, though, her heart fluttered naively when she heard him tell her that he loved to spend time with her. And well, he did love to hang out with her before. It'd be pretty damn awesome if those feelings were still the same, at least. But he doesn't even know her feelings forwards him, those tender and insecure feelings of what she thinks is love.

She felt the blush of doom and death approaching, and there's no way she'll show off that weakness. Especially not in front of Nate!

"Ehm, Nate, I- uh." She looked as if she was rattling her brain, trying to make it work again. "It's.. well, it's probably better f-for you to... erm, y'know... loosen up sooner than later... and... yeah. That."

Violet gave a self deprecating giggle, doing her damned hardest to keep the blood from flooding her cheeks, panic rising.

Not for the first time in her life, she wished she could confide in someone about what the rope guy did to her. And, not for the first time, she drove the thoughts away, almost violently. She turned her head towards her cheerful singer buddy, Lacey, who was explaining all about the party to the newcomers who didn't know, emphasizing on the rule that everyone was required to come, even chastising Nathan about his avoiding habits, something she hoped to hell that he got through his thick head. She then looked to Amber, and halfheartedly shook away the old feelings of bitterness towards her, regarding the beautiful redhead with a 'it's cool between us, okay?' grin. It's better if the fighting stays with the bad guys who deserve it, instead of between friends, anyways, right?

As usual, the vigilante thoughts grounded her back in tough chick mode.

"Lace! Hey, you remember that black top you lent me for the ACDC concert a few months back?" She asked Lacey animatedly, aggressively. "I call dibs on it. Amber, Paige, if you touch it, I'll smack you both!" She playfully pinched Amber's nose.

She giggled, and then, in her version of stealth, mouthed at Oz to keep the pressure on Nate while she was with the girls, and that she'd try to hurry to back him up once they were done outfitting.

Vi then bumped shoulders with Nathan smugly, with an 'I win, you lose" face, and laughed, with a slight hint of sadistic pleasure at seeing him squirm.

"If you say that to every living thing with boobs, playboy, doesn't that just make us all average? Be honest for once, and focus on Amber. She's the hot one, after all!" Violet said, a mixture of friendliness and bluntness coating her words.

"Oh come on Violet, I'm not a playboy I just know how to compliment woman." Charlie grinned at her response turning to look at her before continuing. "What would you say if I told you I'm not interested in her?" He winked at the her, but she seemed to have totally forgotten about him as she solely focused her attention on Nate.

Charlie rolled his eyes at the her, irritated at the lack of attention he was getting.

He couldn't help it, it was just apart of his personality. He wanted- no needed to have attention. If he didn't get it he felt empty, like apart of him was just not there.

I guess kind of like a puppy, always needing to be rubbed and played with or like a small child, ready to cry at any moment when not feeling the soft touch of someone else skin.

Sighing Charlie let his eyes roam around the small diner, everyone at the table all in-engrossed in their own conversation, paying little to no mind to Charlie.

The place wasn't all that big, it seemed kind of homely. From the dusty old corner filled with spider webs, to the old waiters, and waitresses he remebered from when he was a child. Of course there were new ones, like the one who was serving their table.

The young male was actually pretty handsome Charlie noticed, mentally kicking himself for thinking such a thing. Not now or ever would he ever admit the attraction he had for men. Yet another reason why he alwyas felt the need for a girl to be under his arm. During this time noone could accuse him nor would he have to admit the way he wanted to kiss a dude.

The young waiter smiled, making Charlie's heart flutter as he thought about that look the guy had on, being ment for him. That was until one of the girls started talking making him realize the dude was of course after one of the woman at the table.

His eyes landed on Amber as she blushed about something. Charlie watched her intently, she actually was quite pretty, he could understand why the waiter was interested in her. To bad for him, since she seemed interested in Nate, Charlie noted as he watched her repeatedly glance at Nate. The waiter walked away having no idea he would probably never get a shot at Amber's heart.

Charlie's eyes slowly drifted back over to Nate.

Charlie actually liked the guy. But, at the moment he wanted to ring his neck.

It seemed like two girls were basically tripping over each other to get to him and he didnt seem like he cared. Early on Charlie had noticed the way Amber looked at Nate like she just wished he would notice her, Charlie was starting become aware that maybe she wanted more than just a friendship from Nate. And it was obvious that Violet was also into Nate. She had practically told him, Nate was a complete idiot if he hadnt picked up on the hints. Yet still Nate hadn't made a move.

He had two beautiful girls after him and he couldnt even spare them the time. What was that important that he had to keep on ignoring the two?

Charlie sighed inwardly Nate was carelessly throwing away what Charlie wanted so badly.

"Sorry guys, no boys allowed."

Charlie looked up at Lacey, finally being awoken from his thoughts. Glancing around the table he noticed everyone had appeared, well except for Cora.

Running a hand through his blonde hair, Charlie straightened. His eyes fixating on one of his friends as he noticed something odd.

"Hey Briton are you okay?" Charlie asked a bit of concern seeping into his voice as he stared at Briton's knee. The damp spot on his jeans seemed to have grown a little larger from the last time he had looked over at him.

Before he could protest Charlie quickly shoved up his pant leg in one swift motion, his protectiveness starting to show its side as he looked up into the bright green eyes of his friend.

"This looks pretty bad, what happened?"

Blood was starting to even seep through the gauze. "Did you get this looked at?"

Samuel Westhouse

Sam let his eyes wander silently around the table, resting his chin on the backs of his wrists. He had no urge to participate in whatever conversation was going on, he just let their talk wash over him. As usual, tension filled the gaps between words. Most of it was centered around Nate. Because everyone loved Nate. Most of the girls did, anyway. And it seemed to be a constant scramble for his attention. Well, Sam could see why, the guy was pretty much the focal point of the group, but he couldn't help but think how stressful it had to be to juggle all that. He was lucky, he didn't have many expectations put on him, which made it that much more difficult to let people down. His eyes wandered to Charlie, the boy who liked to be the center of attention. Sam was rather fond of him. He had character, and there was more going on upstairs than he let on. Right now he seemed to be somewhat distressed. Sam made to offer him a small silent smile when a whirlwind of a distraction tugged his attentions away.

Paige. Out of all the friends he had, Paige was his favorite, to be quite honest. She was slightly breathless, and she parked herself right next to him. Maybe it was because they had something in common. She was his link to the rest of them, even if Nate was the focal point of the group. She got a grin as she stole his soccer ball out from under him with her usual buoyancy. "Hey, if you beat me I'll let you win." He responded in turn, letting her keep possession of his ball. For now.

She was quickly distracted by the rest of the group. A party. Meh. he was apathetic towards parties. They weren't really his kind of thing. Paige didn't sound quite pleased to be left out of the loop though. In a matter of moments Lacy filled everyone in about Matt's party. Mmm, everyone didn't include him. He liked a little bit of company, but a party didn't sound very appealing, actually.

The giggling over Nate started up again almost immediately, from Violet's corner. Sam settled back down into his chair, rolling his head towards Page to see her reaction towards the prospect of a party. Things began to fall back into the usual when Charlie spoke again, his voice more worried than usual. Was Briton okay? He turned his head immediately to see what was up. Briton got pushed around a lot, it was no secret, but something had happened that was bad enough to elicit such a response from someone. That was not good. He'd always been a bit protective of his friends, but it had become a stronger, more uncomfortable feeling of late. A constant worry. Which was what made him straighten immediately when he saw blood.

There was gauze, and there was blood soaking it. He'd torn his knees up. It was relatively fresh. He must have gone to the nurse to get it fixed up. But it wasn't enough, obviously. Sam chewed on his bottom lip. Briton was a strong kid. He liked to take care of himself. Sam got that. But that much bleeding... And Charlie had already brought it up, he should offer aid. He unfolded his arms and pulled his bookbag off. Contrary to illusion, it didn't have any books in it at all. No, it had more useful stuff like tape in case he twisted his ankle or his knee in the woods, lightweight painkillers, butterfly closures, a flashlight, all kinds of stuff that he'd managed to scrounge up over the years. He took care of the damage he did to himself by himself. Hospital visits were costly, and learning to dress a wound was invaluable.

He rifled through the bottom of the bag, where most everything was jumbled up, and produced a handful of items wordlessly. Half a role of gauze, the rest of which had been used a few months back when he'd gotten a little bit too into his game of wall ball and slid a couple feet across the pavement on his shoulder, the last of his joint tape, which did a decent job of keeping things in place, and a bottle with five aspirin left in it. He left his loot on the table and sent a sideways glance at the small blonde boy.

"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. " He said, zipping his bookbag back up and returning it to his back before laying his chin back on his hands and letting his eyes fall back to their sleepy medium. He didn't take his eyes off Briton though.

It wasn't more than a moment, in fact, before Oz arrived. Call it a relief, perhaps, or perhaps not, but it did draw slightly more of his interest back to his group of friends. He was sure that made him kind of pathetic, but decided not to dwell on it too much. Thinking about his feelings was far too complicated, and who could say which one could have started pouring out from him at the wrong moment? Probably tears, what with all that had come as a result of the day. Miserable, he was sure that was the correct term for what he was feeling, though of course, feelings for now were instantly sorted into some other part of his mind - another part of him all together - while nothing connected itself to the outside. It was better not to make some big scene out of it, after all.

Briton's eyes trailed the other boy closely as he as well grabbed a chair from a neighboring table, following suit with Briton's actions, and plopping down at the end of the table next to him.

"Heeeeey, guys," Oz greeted, letting out an exasperated huff of air. He was sweaty and he'd let his body go comically limp in that chair of his. Probably, he'd walked all the way to the diner, and Briton couldn't blame him for feeling exhausted. A tinge of guilt struck him however, because if Oz was walking, it meant that Briton could have offered him a ride, and hadn't even thought about it. Perhaps he could offer his friend a ride home? Yes, it was certainly pathetic to take any excuse to spend a little extra time with him, but... What else could he do? At the very least, there was that. Maybe it just caused pain in the end, but it was still something. "Well, I guess that I'm a delinquent now too. That means I get a milkshake, right?"

Briton let his eyes dart away, giving off a small hint of a smile, one that could barely be even considered a smile, while he tried to think about something else, or someone else to look at. It wasn't like Oz was talking to him, or even at anyone in general, and trying to look at someone else in the group while Oz was there was enough of a challenge it itself that Briton had begun taking care to try doing it more often.

That was when he noticed Violet, giving off her usual, energetic vibe. The girl had loads of personality, whereas Briton had perhaps a sliver of one. He couldn't say that he wasn't a little jealous of how bold she could be. Sliding over her unfinished milkshake with a smirk, she claimed "You can have the rest of mine, Briton." And just as a coy little after-thought, just being her usual, playful self, she added "Enjoy the indirect kiss, got it?" Cute.

He smirked right back at her, though his was considerably smaller. She'd probably be disappointed at the lack of a reaction, but the idea of kissing girls didn't really appeal to him. It wasn't anything to make him blush or fluster or act all shy over.

"My favorite kind of kiss," He retorted, picking up the milkshake from the table and pursing his plump lips around the straw. He sipped the coconut-flavored drink while he watched Violet's attention drift to something else, which happened to be whispering something into Oz's ear, and made Briton just the least bit more curious as to what exactly that information was, seeing who it was being told to. He supposed he couldn't help it, though.

He placed the milkshake down on the table just as another member of the group had trailed in; Sam. Carrying that soccer ball and looking as bored as ever. Briton was almost sure that this guy had walked to the diner, though, as sporty as he was, wasn't showing any signs of fatigue at all. Again, it was another trait that Briton could find himself feeling some kind of envy for. But not much, even if Briton couldn't have played a sport if he tried, it was entirely true that he definitely did not want to, either. Trailing his eyes back around the table, it seemed too that some kind of conversation that Briton didn't have the context for was continuing between Nate and Violet, probably because Nate was blowing the girl off for an earlier event. But hey, what had the girl been expecting?

It was Page, next, who burst into the scene, immediately her thoughts trailing to a party, that she must have caught wind of from one of the side conversations at the table. Someone had sad something about that hadn't they? Briton had recalled assuming that there was one from the latter discussion about "getting ready" that he'd heard coming from Amber when he'd come in. God, just as long as he didn't have to go, he was fine. Parties were terrible. They were full of people who didn't like him, huge crowds, blasting noise. He really just wasn't into the whole party scene, and he couldn't understand why anyone would be. Maybe that was what Violet was upset about? Nate not going to this party or whatever. Briton couldn't blame anyone for not wanting to go.

Even Oz contributed suddenly to the sudden party concept, chiming in right after the girl. No, no way. Not even to hang out with this guy was Briton going to some stupid party. Not after today, and knowing that his tormentors probably would be the first invited to that sort of shit fest.

"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 required to come." Lacey answered them, her eyes trailing to Nathan, Violet, and Briton with her words. He supposed she knew very well the most likely not 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."

"I'm exempt from this right?" Briton interjected, raising up his brows. "I mean, parties aren't my scene. I'd rather slam my face into a wall for eight hours straight."

He wasn't sure whether or not his comment had gotten picked up in the midst of everything, of Violet or Amber's fuss over the same dude, or over all the excitement about some lame ass party, or even over most of his friends managing to be in the same place at once. But it didn't really matter. They couldn't really force him to go, and they wouldn't even notice if he didn't! He vaguely noticed the girl's conversation suddenly change to a little girl's party of getting ready together and borrowing clothes and stuff. Piling into Lacey's car. But... Hadn't Briton only seen one other car? That left the guys - aside from any who really wanted to walk home - without a ride. He almost let out a sigh, though he tried to remind himself that not all bad would come from driving his friends home. After all, Oz definitely didn't look like he was going to want to walk home after this.

"Hey Briton are you okay?" Briton looked up from where his gaze had dropped down to staring at the table, the statement drawing him back into the group once more. The statement was coming from Charlie, who, despite it all, was relatively caring. He was a good guy, a handsome guy, but mainly it was the number of different girls he had under his arm per week that was a bit of a turn off. It even turned some of the girls off, but obviously not too many of them, since plenty still lined up eagerly.

Briton fidgeted, opening his mouth to say something, but before he could, Charlie was already leaning forward, going for the hem of the other boy's pants and pulling the upward over the knees. The action caused Briton's body to tense, visibly, despite the look of relaxed distant look on his face, as if his body was preparing itself to get struck like all the other times today. Surely, he couldn't avoid the action being noticed, but he quickly made an effort to release the tenseness. Charlie wasn't going to hurt him, after all.

"This looks pretty bad, what happened?" Charlie continued to ask, and though the words, even the tone, were completely concerned, kindhearted, Briton felt as if he were being interrogated. "Did you get this looked at?"

"I fell is all," Briton responded, his words almost coming out firm, though they lacked something that would have made the harsh. Perhaps it was the weakness in his voice. He turned his face away from Charlie. Away from all his friends, just staring at the ground where none of them stood. His hands settled down on the hand that Charlie still had holding his pant leg, applying pressure but not yet pushing it away. He really hoped his friends would accept falling as an answer, but he was pretty positive that his friends knew "I fell" really did more so mean "I was pushed" when it came to Briton. "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?"

But it was too late. Despite his refusal to look back at anyone, Briton could hear Sam rustling about, beginning to pitch it as he was rummaging through his bag for some things. Briton could hear them being plopped on the table while they were being taken out. Briton crossed his arms defiantly, though the way his brows furrowed and his eyes avoided them told a far different emotion.

"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. " Sam offered. So, it was as expected; stuff for the wound. It made a little anger seep in, which tinged a little more guilt. He was making a scene, now. They were making a scene, and he was only making it worse. Why couldn't they just leave it alone? He was fine! He was always fine... He could handle pain. He found himself gritting his teeth a bit.

"I'm fine," He muttered, though the words were almost too faint. He didn't want to be fussed over. It was embarrassing, it was unnecessary. It hurt too much. No, it most certainly wasn't going to be pain like this that would make him cry. It was dealing with it afterwards.

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.

"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."