Briton Hadings's Story

"Hey, no, don't apologize," Oz urged, and Briton continued to avoid his gaze, keeping his face shrouded by his own hands while shutting his eyes tightly. He had only made the mistake once of glancing to his friend, for a mere moment after Oz had said the statement, and having noticed the other boy's placement on the ground in front of him, trying his best to catch his eyes. The look Oz was giving him made his guts wrench and twist, making him feel just that little more sick with guilt. Oz was just a nice guy. He cared about all his friends, so of course he was quick to jump to help the one who needed him. He'd have done it if one of his other friends were feeling unwell, too, and the thought alone was enough to dig deep inside of Briton's stomach and bring back bitter feelings about himself and this... this obsession. Just because he couldn't be Oz's priority all of the time, just because he was nothing special, just because he was absolutely fucking selfish. And yet being Oz's priority right now didn't matter. Getting his attention like this wasn't how he wanted it. He didn't want to be the damsel in distress, and yet... was that the only way to get anyone to pay any attention at all?

"Don't apologize for that, ever. I wanted to help you, okay? I mean, I'm obviously not regretting it, so there's nothing to be sorry for. You're one of my best friends, I'd do anything for you. And, hey," Briton's eyes widened and he couldn't help but stare helplessly into the other boy's eyes while he spoke, holding onto one of his hands in order to grab his attention and hold it there. He was so close, now, leaning towards Briton intensely. "This is not your fault. I know you don't believe me, but this really isn't. You didn't tell anyone to bully you and you didn't tell anyone to get into fights either. It's not your fault." Oz continued, and he gave a small smile, one that was just sweet enough, just caring and concerned enough, to make Briton feel like he was melting. "Besides, I'd rather be here than there. That party sucked, but don't tell Lacey that I said that."

Briton sighed, simply closing his eyes to avoid the look Oz was giving him while he gave a small nod, biting his lip. There was nothing he could do much more, the way Oz stayed so close, hanging right in the place where Briton's downcast gaze would have gone as well. Averting his eyes to another place was too difficult, with Oz right in front of him. He simply stayed quiet for a moment, trying his best not to think about how wrong the other boy was, how close the other boy was, or likewise, the sensation in his hand, completely enveloped in Oz's own gentle hand. He felt like his cheeks were hot, as if the situation wasn't difficult to deal with as it was. After a moment of sheer hesitation, knowing very well the reason for his hesitation in the first place, he plucked his hand away from Oz's, settling it down against his own stomach instead, which still felt awful. Finally opening his eyes again, he turned his head completely away from Oz, putting up his free hand to his face once more to shield his probably reddened cheeks from the view of his friend.

"Sorry," He finally said, though he instantly regretted the apology, seeing as it was, more or less, an apology for apologizing. He shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat uncomfortably. "It's just that... I never had to say anything about it at all. I could have stayed quiet and the point is they couldn't have done anything to make me tell them." His voice was soft, a little bit strained. He hardly even wanted to think about it. What would the night have been like if he'd just kept his trap shut like he would have on any normal damn day? Nate wouldn't have gotten in a fight, Violet wouldn't have gone with Vic and Ryan... He wouldn't have had to go to the party and he wouldn't have had an asthma attack. "If they didn't even know, then... then we wouldn't have any problems right now."

The last part of the sentence seemed to almost come out in a whine, Briton squeezing his eyes shut and letting the hand which had previously been hiding his blush clamp over his own mouth instead, as if it could hold back completely the tears he had been fighting so hard against all day. Why did opening up about something have to end in worrying about his friends' stupidity? About their ideas of "protecting" him. Most of all, why did he have to worry so much about their damn safety? They couldn't keep themselves out of danger when it came to that kind of thing. It was like the worst thing to do was suddenly the right thing in their minds. Did they really think they were helping at all? Briton turned back to Oz suddenly, slipping down from the edge of the bed where he sat and collapsing against the other boy, wrapping his arms around him and letting his face bury into Oz's shirt while the emotions suddenly spilled over, choking him and blurring his vision. Today was too much. He couldn't take it anymore. He didn't even care that he was now guilty for making poor Oz's shirt wet with tears.

His body shook in quivers and sobs, unable to stop them any longer. He should have known there would be tears today, his earlier emotional outbursts only coming in little shocks of shouting and panicking. The tears were bound to come eventually when he couldn't take it anymore. Normally he was good, normally he could hold it back, leave it alone, but it seemed that no one else shared his preference of leaving it alone. Every single occurrence seemed to pull at each previous event, forcing him to pay attention to all the continuous bad luck he was having. Forced, mocking lips pressed against his, flesh scraped on pavement, an interrogation from his friend and everyone's attention all at the same time, an awful party, Nathan fighting, Violet leaving to fight, and an asthma attack. He felt humiliated and degraded and... It was as if he didn't have a say in what was happening around him at all anymore. The only control he'd ever held over his friends was by withholding information from them. And Oz... Well, surely Oz would never have raised a hand against anyone unless it was deemed absolutely necessary and he'd gotten the okay from Briton, but Oz was a talker. And even that in itself was a problem. He thought that he could fix things with words, and even if that didn't cause anyone any immediate danger, Briton couldn't be sure about anyone in earshot of Oz's words. Information was too dangerous for reckless people, and Briton wasn't so sure about taking any chances.

"Today's just been fucking shit," Briton whined, finally able to get any words out at all, though they remained slightly muffled from Briton's positioning. "You guys don't even know what Vic's been doing and now he probably thinks that I actually did tell and... and I don't know what he's gonna do." He took in a sharp breath before trying to continue, careful to leave out bigger details for his own sake. "And Violet went off on some speech about how she was a vigilante or some shit before she left the party with Vic and Ryan and god knows what trouble she's getting herself into..."

As if on cue, Briton could feel his phone vibrating, and though, in any other given situation, he probably would have ignored it, given the circumstances he was fearing the worst. He leaned away from Oz, wiping at his own face with one hand to try and clear the crying to his face while he found his own place sitting on the cramped floor, pulling his phone from his back pocket to check what it was. The screen was difficult to focus on, and the brightness of it alone was enough to hit at the headache he still maintained. He almost made a reach for his reading glasses, which, though they were often in their small case in his pocket, were inconveniently in his backpack, which he remembered had been thrown into the backseat of his car a while back, only to be forgotten about. Squinting instead and deciding to merely just strain his eyes, he finally noticed what the alert was; Charlie had texted him about Violet.

Briton found himself shaking again, locking his phone and putting it down on the ground slowly while he rubbed firmly at his eyes, biting his lip. "Damnit," he muttered, words even showing signs of his shaking. "Damnit, she... Charlie just texted me and.... Violet's going to the damn fucking hospital." He inhaled sharply, putting both of his over his eyes firmly. "That's just icing on the cake, isn't it? As if today wasn't bad enough."

He clenched his jaw, dropping his hands down and simply sat there for a moment, staring down absently at a cluster of wires on the ground before standing up, using Oz's shoulders as a support to get himself up off of the ground. His chest was feeling tight and empty, not quite as bad as how it had been earlier, but he could feel his panic settling into his lungs again, and quietly weaved around Oz to take his inhaler from the top of the dresser and, after as much of an exhale as he could manage, put it to his lips and took a deep breath, before setting it back down again.

"I just feel so fucking helpless," Briton finally uttered when he had the air to speak clearly again. He made the short journey back over to where Oz was on the floor, plopping down on the ground directly next to him and pulling his own legs in close, his knees almost to his chin, while he pulled at the bandaging that was beginning to become loose after all the movement. "I'm so tired of everyone seeing me as this damn damsel in distress and thinking they have to save me. It's like... I'm below you guys or something. I'm just helpless and weak and i need to be protected. And that fucking sucks, by the way, but then someone goes and does something stupid and gets themselves hurt and they think that's going to help me in some way?"

He let his body slump over, then, his body leaning over to connect against Oz's again and staying right up against him indulgently. He supposed that as long as he could get away with it, it wasn't hurting anybody. "I just... I just don't want anyone else to get hurt for my sake. It didn't matter if it was just me, 'cause it wasn't so bad. I could handle it and I didn't care that much."

Briton bit his lip a moment, before picking his head up from where it had been pressed up against his friend, attempting to give Oz a pleading look right in the eyes. "And, um... I know this is sort of unrelated, but... Do you think you could just not tell anyone about me having asthma?" Briton begged, his voice somewhat small and clearly a bit hesitant. "Please. I know it's like a serious thing and stuff, but I mean, do you really think if you went around telling all our friends that they're gonna keep it quiet? They'll probably start using it like some kind of excuse for me." He sighed, dropping his head back down where it had been against the other boy. "I can just imagine Nate going up to someone and saying something stupid like that they can't beat me up because I have asthma... I guess I just don't want everyone to treat me like i'm even weaker than I already am."

He rubbed the corner of his eye with one hand, feeling so drained from the day at large, and tired of everything. He was tired of these fights and these events. Hell, he was even tired of himself, he supposed. "I guess that's kind of dumb and selfish," Briton continued. "But that fact isn't really changing my mind on the matter either, so whatever."

Not everything in this world can be solved with a simple talking to. If it could, then world peace could have been achieved with nothing more than a brief conversation, and bullying and crimes would vanish with a simple sigh. While Briton's issues were a little more simplistic than world peace(only barely because teenagers really are that complicated), they did fall under the same category of no simple fix. Oz could reason and coo and hug all day and all night, but, at the end of the day, it wasn't that simple, Briton wouldn't feel magically better. It hadn't worked three years ago, a year ago, a month ago, or any time that Oz had found himself in the position of comforting Briton. That didn't mean, of course, that he wouldn't try. So, when Briton slid down onto the floor, suddenly latching onto Oz and burying his face in his shirt, Oz simply wrapped his arms around him as snugly as a security blanket, rubbing his back soothingly.

He wanted to tell Briton that he wasn't the source of the group's problems, that they all had many, many issues of their own. He wanted to make him understand that what others did to him wasn't right by any stretch of the imagination, that they were at fault and should be stopped. He wanted to be able to wave a hand so that everything would magically fix itself, vanishing away Vic and Ryan or making them see reason and beg Briton for forgiveness. However, what Oz wanted was impossible or, in the case of telling Briton things he already knew, futile and unwelcome at the moment. Briton knew how Oz felt about all of this, had heard the taller boy say it over and over in a variety of situations that tended to end up like this. Besides, since when did Oz do what he wanted? Doing what he wanted caused problems for others, made them dislike him and stay away. He did what others needed, and, for right now, that involved hugging Briton closer to himself, holding him tightly and anchoring him to this world as if to say without words that for all the problems in his life right now, Oz wasn't one of them.

Briton continued to sob, breath catching between each wracking breath. To see such a good friend in such a state of despair and emotional turmoil was painful, and to know that he couldn't do anything was even more so. But he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything because then he would be burdening Briton, wouldn't he? If he started getting upset or crying himself, then Briton wouldn't feel like he could tell him things anymore and he'd keep these awful feelings bottled up, weighing him down. Like, well, like Oz did, and he couldn't let that happen to Briton.

Briton was talking now, voice muffled in Oz's shirt, but he could still hear it, and feel the words spilling from Briton's lips. It raised- it raised too many questions, too many alarms in just a few words. What did he mean that they didn't know what Vic had been doing? What was this about Violet ranting about being a vigilante? She'd gone after Vic and Ryan? Why and how? None of this news made a lot of sense right now, and hadn't this night been traumatic enough for everyone involved without all of this coming out? How out of the loop WAS Oz?

He let Briton go with little struggle when his phone vibrated, but was unable to keep his eyes away from the other boy as his face transformed, twisting with apparent worry, and the shaking began again.

"Damnit." Just that first word had Oz's stomach twisted in knots, and it only got worse as Briton finished his report. "Damnit, she... Charlie just texted me and.... Violet's going to the damn fucking hospital." Oz didn't bother to hide the surprise that fell over his features. Violet was in the hospital? Why? Was it serious? Oh, of course it was serious, she was in the hospital, the hospital. What should he do about it? Should he do anything? He didn't have his license, it was so late out that it was almost early… Besides, a bunch of kids hanging around the hospital who weren't actually related to her wouldn't be able to get in, anyways, and Violet… Violet probably wouldn't want him there.

No, she definitely wouldn't want him there, regardless of why she was in the hospital. Violet and he hadn't really gotten along with each other for some time, not since the day that she left him waiting in the park for hours, only for him to later see her getting out of the car of what he could only assume was some secret older boyfriend. No, he didn't understand, but she'd refused to speak with him for ages, and they only hung around each other for group activities now. He was worried, of course he was, she was his friend, and probably still was for all of their issues, but… But he couldn't help her if she didn't even want to be in the room alone with him, and Briton needed him. Probably. Maybe he didn't need Oz specifically, but he was a convenient shoulder to cry on, wasn't he? So, he listened, taking in the choked confession of weakness, and tears, and worries while wrapping an arm around Briton's shoulders, feeling each shuddering breath.

"And, um... I know this is sort of unrelated, but... Do you think you could just not tell anyone about me having asthma?" Briton was staring at him imploringly, and how could Oz refuse him anything after all of that? Besides it made sense. He didn't like it, but it made sense. Briton really was treated like delicate porcelain by a good majority of the group, something Oz himself could be guilty of, and to add asthma onto all of that would only aggravate the problem. It wasn't wise, but Oz knew his friends- well, thought he knew his friends- and recognized what they would probably do with that information. If one conversation about bullying had prompted Nate to challenge someone in a booze-fueled party, had raised threats at the diner, had prompted Violet into becoming some sort of vigilante, he could only imagine that it would become ten times worse with the knowledge that Briton was asthmatic.

"O-O," the word was caught in Oz's throat, a stammer created by pent up emotion slurring his speech. He knew how he wanted to respond, but after everything that had just been dealt to him emotionally and mentally, it was hard to speak, hard to get his meaning across. He was choking on it now, vocal chords and mouth refusing to cooperate before it all tumbled out into a quick, "Iwontellem."

He took a deep breath, repeating it now with slower and more precise words. "I won't tell anyone." Oz would know, though, another secret locked away in his mind, and he could use that information in case something happened. There was quiet then, for a moment, as Oz quelled his raging emotions, not meeting Briton's eyes for the longest time because if he did- well, then he was going to need comforting himself, and he wasn't putting that job on Briton or anyone for that matter.

The silence passed, and with it Oz's bout of speechlessness. "What do you want to do? I mean, do you want to go to the hospital right now? Or we can… We can ask someone if there's anything we can do right now. If they say now, then... then we can watch a movie or something tonight and see Violet tomorrow? When both of us are more…" He searched for the word, "okay." When Briton wasn't just coming away from an asthma attack, and when Oz was certain he himself wouldn't cause a scene. "Yeah, if there's nothing we can do, I'll just spend the night, we can watch a movie, and then we'll go see Violet tomorrow. But it's up to you." Because, right now, if Briton just looked at him the right way after the day that both of them had had, he'd probably agree to do just about anything.

"O-O," was the first Briton heard coming from Oz's mouth. He almost panicked, a bit worried for a split moment about Oz's response and darting his green eyes over to watch his handsome friend's expression. Oz seemed to have difficulty with his own standpoint on the situation, and Briton couldn't blame him. After all, Briton was asking him to withhold some pretty big information. Briton had heard time and time again about what a big deal it was - that having an attack and no one knowing what to do for him was a bad idea - but still he found himself ignoring the concept due to selfishness. When Oz's words came out again, they tumbled all at once like they were one word. "Iwontellem."

"I won't tell anyone." He rephrased after a deep breath, and Briton found himself sighing in relief, shutting his eyes and resting his head back down against Oz's shoulder. That was it. He could relax, couldn't he? Surely, that was one less thing he had to worry about tonight. Oz was typically good about a secret. If only it had been the only problem at hand. "Thanks," Briton managed to utter, though it came out in such a small voice. He felt shaky and sick, but at the very least some of the problems were solved. He could breath, and he didn't have to worry about everyone knowing what happened. He tried to simply convince himself that his other problems just weren't worth worrying over right now. The only things he could fix were already fixed.

Briton picked up one of his hands, rubbing at his eyes and trying to eliminate the evidence that he'd been crying, though it seemed all he managed to do was make the skin around his eyes redder. How embarrassing. He hated crying in front of anyone, and he hated being so clingy and weak and helpless in front of Oz. Every thought which suggested that it was no big deal, that it was okay, was quickly expunged by the same thought of embarrassment. Sure, it wasn't as if Oz was going to be shouting all over town what a big cry baby he was, or how weak and vulnerable he was, but... it didn't change the fact that Oz knew. Oz had seen all of these things and the very idea of Oz knowing was enough to make Briton feel sick to his stomach. He knew it was hopeless, but that didn't change the fact that he wanted Oz to like him. And not in the way that Oz liked all his friends, and not in the way that Oz like anyone who seemed a relatively decent person. Who would ever like someone as weak and broken as I am? He thought, and almost felt as if he were near another break down. This time around however, he had just enough mental stability to suppress it.

It wasn't more than a moment, really, before Oz's words saved Briton from more of his winding thoughts, bringing him out of his worry and back into the current situation. He opened his eyes and tried just to think about how nice it was to have Oz here to comfort him, how alone they were, and how close they were. It hurt so badly, but it was still nice. "What do you want to do? I mean, do you want to go to the hospital right now? Or we can… We can ask someone if there's anything we can do right now. If they say now, then... then we can watch a movie or something tonight and see Violet tomorrow? When both of us are more…" Oz seemed to search for the right word for a small moment, "okay."

Briton found himself clutching small clumps of Oz's shirt in his hands tightly while he thought about it. He wasn't quite up to going anywhere still, and asking Oz to drive again seemed like pushing the envelope a bit much, anyway. Briton's head was swimming just a bit too much for him to get behind the wheel of anything. The more he thought about it, the more he knew it was a bad idea. Violet... God, what had even been going through her damn head? Taking on a couple of neanderthals by herself and expecting to walk away unscathed? He wanted to slap her for so many things... For putting herself in danger, for thinking she needed to save him. Why would anyone think their own safety was worth putting on the line just for him? It wasn't just in this life, either, he reminded himself. The amount of pointless effort they put into helping him out, despite his clear position in their friend group. He wasn't important. Briton was just the one that followed them around, that they'd put up with because who else was going to? They didn't owe him anything, and they certainly didn't need to go trying to save him.

"Yeah, if there's nothing we can do, I'll just spend the night, we can watch a movie, and then we'll go see Violet tomorrow. But it's up to you." Oz reiterated, saving Briton once again from his thoughts. Any longer, and who knows where it would have gotten him. Briton gave just a little nod at first, before noting what a small gesture it was, and trying to give a more defined one, looking right at his friend.

"I guess it's a better idea that we wait till tomorrow," Briton agreed, giving out a little sigh while he fidgeted and made an effort to move himself, no longer leaning right up against the other boy. "I'd probably end up hitting her myself for the stunt she pulled." He looked away, shrugging Oz's supportive arm off of his shoulders for the moment. As much as he wanted it there, the risk of acting a bit more clingy than normal was beginning to seem like a bit more that he was willing to take.

"A movie sounds good, actually," he continued, taking a deep breath in through his nose before hefting himself upward, the action seeming to take a little out of him. "We can set it up in my brother's room since my room is a little," Briton gave a pause, eyeing a small pile of empty redbull cans underneath his desk, "uncomfortable." He turned his gaze forward again, losing a little more outward expression as seconds ticked onward. The evidence of crying was still on his face, but had it not been for that, the very concept of his emotional breakdown would have seemed odd. Accounting for the redness of his face and eyes, however, it was quite clear he was simply suppressing the feeling. He just wasn't willing to let any emotions get past the wall, at least for the given moment. He just wanted to shut it all off. If only he could shut off his thoughts completely.

Picking up his laptop quietly, and near feebly, he had to hold the object hugged against his chest, worried that leaving it in his hand would be too much for his exhausted limbs. The more he thought about it, he really was tired. He just wanted to finally lay down, not move for a while, not worry for a while, get what little strength he had in the first place back. Briton moved to the end of his bed, eyes scanning the mess of wires and cables there for the HDMI cable that sat there. Unlike the TV Briton had worked extra shifts to buy, his brothers TV was much simpler, and required the direct link, rather than simply being synced up to the computer automatically. Snatching it from the ground, he quickly tucked it under his arm and turned on his heels, heading for the door and opening up before stopping dead in his tracks, feeling a tinge in his gut at the silence he was giving his friend.

"Um, Oz?" He interjected into the silence, looking over his shoulder at his friend, the slightest hint of a softer expression in his raw eyes. "Thanks... for, um... taking me home and helping me out and," he bit his lip, turning forward again and keeping his gaze away from the other boy. "Y'know, thanks for staying over. I'll deny it if you say anything ever, and I do mean I'll deny it if you even said something in two minutes, but... I don't really like to be alone after I have attacks like that." Briton looked down a moment, contemplating whether it really was more comforting to be with someone. Decidedly, yes, it was considerably less nerve-wracking to have someone around who cared. However, perhaps it was the fact that the person with him was Oz that gave him a different kind of hurt. Perhaps it simply balanced out, he decided as he finally pushed himself back into motion, leaving the room swiftly for the next door down from his.

He budged the door open with his shoulder and slipped inside, taking a seat on the carpeted floor in front of the flat screen that sat almost up against the wall, not propped up on any kind of table or desk, and not that there was even one in the room at all. The queen sized bed behind him which was wedged between the walls of the narrow room didn't even sit on a box-spring, leaving everything just about at the same low level anyway. The remainder of his brother's things, mostly clothes for the weekends and holidays when he came home, were all tossed in the small closet. Briton made quick work of plugging up his computer, turning it and the television on, beginning to pull up his movie files for the second time today when he took note of Oz coming into the room as well. He flashed a weak smile, but quickly looked back to the television screen, now showing off his computer desk top, and shyly tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

"So," Briton spoke up, hefting his laptop awkwardly while he crawled over to the mattress and settled down, slumping against the multiple pillows that were leaned up against the far wall at the head of the bed. He plopped the laptop down on his lap, and sent his look back over to Oz. "What kind of movie do you wanna watch? I've got a lot of different ones, so... your choice, okay?" He rubbed his eyes absentmindedly, a little bit of an ache settling into them. He couldn't say he was surprised, of course, what with the exhaustion. It was getting late, after all, and his eyes were a bit tired. Sitting up suddenly, Briton leaned over and placed the open laptop in Oz's lap, before standing promptly. "I'll be right back, you can go ahead and pick one," He continued in explanation, before slipping out of the room and back to his own.

His glasses... not that it was a common occasion when he slipped them on, but when it he was tired like this and going to be focusing on a bright screen... Well, he supposed it couldn't be helped. Surely he didn't wear them often, but it wasn't as if his friends didn't see them at all. At least he didn't have to worry about that, he assured himself while he picked through the strewn contents from the drawer he'd pulled out of his dresser just a bit earlier, crouching on the ground to try and find them. Once located, he reluctantly slipped the dorky, slim framed pair onto the bridge of his nose, aware that while their main purpose was to make focusing easier, their other purpose was probably just to make him look as geeky as humanly possible. Straightening up with a sigh, he retreaded back to his brother's room, striding in while he pushed the glasses a little further up on his nose with the back of his hand.

"Sorry about that, my eyes are just kind of tired," Briton explained, lowering himself down to the mattress and crawling to the space next to Oz, giving up once again on his struggles to put some distance between them. He leaned his shoulder into Oz's side as casually as possible, gazing at the lit up screen expectantly, if not somewhat tiredly. He had half a mind to expect himself to fall asleep partway through whatever movie they watched, but he supposed that was alright. "Find something good?"