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“MOVE OUT THE FUCKIN’ WAY! SHIT!” Kylar’s shout bursts onto the scene, Crispin and the guitar losers look up, the jock is storming over, almost demonic in the face, Crispin’s eyes are dazed and barely open, still high off whatever Emily gave him while convincing him it would NOT give him hallucinations but right now, plus the past two hours, he had been CLEARLY seeing shit, why in the hell is the psycho jock about to punch him from what looks like the ceiling with how gone he is.
“Huh?” He barely murmurs before a bruised up, bleeding fist pounds his head into the locker he rested on moments before.
“YOU FUCKIN’ BITCH! GODDAMN FAGGOT! I’LL KILL YOU!”
Crispin knows Kylar’s big threats from a younger past they barely shared, something like a first years awkward almost friendship. Though thinking about that doesn’t matter as a fist pulls away just to crash down on him again.
“HOLY SHIT?!” A likely unimportant holler calls out before the brunette’s nose is burning hot yet wet and everything’s fading black. What is this, some sort of shitty movie? He thinks before silence comes.
“IM NOT EXPLAININ’ SHIT!”
“Kylar, please. Ive dealt with enough this week, what is the issue? You have one chance to answer before suspension. Don’t pull any bullshit with me.”
Kylars’ seen red for the past hour, who even gives a shit about getting suspended anymore, his reputation is in RUINS. He slumps into the chair in-front of his principal.
“BITCH LY-“
“Kylar.”
He gulps, breath shaking with every negative emotion his body can muster, his nails digging into his already bruised knees, they draw white now.
“I- No you don’t get it, I can’t tell you! FUCK!” He croaks out, voice shaking. He needs some percs NOW.
A few minutes pass after she shushes him to answer a phone call, after what feels like seven centuries she finally hangs up the call.
“Kylar. At this point, just give me a fake reason and sort it out between the two of you. I cannot deal with another police incident this week, you’re lucky his parents are too busy to come by. REALLY lucky, Kylar.” She talks stern, stress steering her to pace back and forth between the landline on her desk and Kylar.
His jaw strains a little before mumbling,
“Just. Wouldn’t- uhhhh-“
The phone rings once more, something about Mr Katz is being discussed and she’s pointing to Crispin slouched over himself in the corner, dried blood drippings stained his-whatever gayass- band tee’s- his gayass liked- collar and then back to Kylar, hushing him to help the other out of there, Kylar huffs out, storming over to grab the younger and shorter- scrawny- one.
“Whu-“
“Shut the fuck up. Actually- seriously- SHUT the fuck UP!” Is the first words Crispin hears as his hand is slung around the angry ones shoulder, he raises a strangely aching brow, it’s definitely bruised and Kylar is storming through the corridor with the speed of someone about to snap once more.
A phone screen is shoved in his face, a group chat Crispin had somehow manages to stay in since leaving the jock’s friend group as their once- punchbag, pretty much.
It’s starting to come back to him now, shit. He fucked up. Big time.
“Kylar, I’m sh- shorry..”
“Fuckin’ hippie stoner can’t even speak properly.” Kylar grumbles, slamming Crispin shoulder first into the boys bathroom, finally letting go when he’s been laid to slump head against the busted, out of order condom machine.
“I- uh- Didn’t realize I’d sent it to that! I was just trying to-“
“WHY TAKE A PIC IN THE FIRST PLACE?! YOU A FAG?! I swear to God if you don’t give me a REAL fuckin’ good reason!”
“I- no! I- unno- It was just- I kinda wanted proof to get rid of coach Colby- It was for -“
“FUCK YOU! Bitch Lynn’ll see it soon, then coach’ll get fired n then I won’t have any percs left! IM ALREADY ON MY LAST ONE, YOU GODDAMN SKATEPARK DWELLER!”
Crispin sat puzzled before the puzzle pieces came to him, he HAD overhead Coach gave him percs. Still…
“Fuck…” The jock barely whispered after Crispin shot him a look.
“Okay, okay! I had my own reasons too though!” The lisp was leaving as his tongue swelling sunk a little.
“Did he- y’know? To you too?” The blondes tone was uncharacteristically guilty and quiet, akin to how a child sounds post scorn.
Crispin’s eyes shift, a glance at the floor Kylar leans on while peering over him. His blood is running cold, that picture was NEVER meant for anybody in school, it was self preservation really. That’s all. God dammit for Emily’s mixed dose, gave him dizzying vision n shit! That asshole.
“It was… I just wanted proof- I felt like I was goin’ crazy- he kept lookin at me- AND IF HE- yknow. I’d have proof it’s in his nature? Like- when it’d eventually happen to me I would have proo- fuck-“ A sharp exhale cuts his own words short.
Kylar grunts, his face level with Crispin’s now as his ass hits the floor but not before sliding his lacrosse jersey filled backpack under himself. A neck vein jerking out as a wince through a jaw clench appeared and a spasm in his thigh when first sat.
Crispin, looked away. Fast.
“I was just looking for a place to skip really, then I heard- and I just-“
“You gotta delete it.”
“But I-“
Kylar’s brows furrow, his sigh loud,
“You just gotta. Half my team has already seen it… Trody said.” A voice of an absolute unnegotating guy surrounds Crispin.
Crispin kisses his teeth in shock, not registering a word Kylar spoke, just trying to cover for his own ass and not get beaten up again by said Jock leering in on him.
“It- That was an accident I seriously just meant to send it to my laptop. To make like a- file? Just so it was solid proof- I mean he’s been gettin up on me- I didn’t know what to do it’s not like I have any sport skills to get him to back off?!”
“Fucks’ he gonna do to you, you barely even show up for the classes, druggie!” Kylar hisses, spit hitting Crispin’s cheek, he shakes a little at the blonde blocking him in.
“I don’t know! I don’t wanna get raped do I?!” Crispin reasons.
“I- ugh.” Kylar twitches, backing up some after those words.
Crispin cocks a brow, remembering the photo had “seen by..” under.
“I mean- what did your team say?”
Kylar snorts, finding humor in such a pointless question,
“As if they didn’t already fuckin’ know. Dipshit.”
Crispin grimaced, the scene just outside the photo still playing over in his head. He really thought it was just some fucked up hallucination when he snapped the pic, barely even awake while taking it. He feels sick.
“Why… didn’t you tell someone? Wait- why didn’t they?!”
Crispin realizes that’s a stupid question, of course his friends aren’t going to suddenly say one day,
‘Hey, y’know coach? Why is he touching you up?’ Crispin realizes, as long as percs get shared around, theres nothing to be said between the group. They already know the whole ‘deal’ and that it benefits them well. Kylars pitiful really.
“Sorry.” He grunts, shifting to tuck his legs under himself for comfort as Kylar looks through him- as if he’s elsewhere altogether.
“Whatever. Fuckin’ gay.” He mumbles, eyes darting away to his knees, Crispin follows for a split second, their bruised to all hell. He looks back up to the jock to notice shaking eyes on the sight of his knees. Jesus christ.
Crispin isn’t particularly sure what to say anymore, it’s silent for a moment.
“Just… delete it yeah?” Kylar asks, Crispin nods instantly.
Kylar shifts back, still sitting on the backpack , hiking legs up to hit under his chin and press hands onto his shoe fronts.
“He wont fuck you.” Kylar states, void of either happy nor upset diction, Crispin snorts at the ludicracy of that not so reliable statement.
“How do you know?”
Kylar clicks his tongue,
“Just do, shut up.”
After that day, each p.e class Crispin would attend, magically the coach never even came close again, no touching on his waist, no whispering near his ears nor never commenting on his skinny, stunted physique ever again. Each time he came close suddenly Kylar would pop up, blocking the coaches view until the old man ushered Kylar to follow him wherever and whenever. Crispin threw up in his mouth twice before finally, he felt thankful that third time. As sick as that is.
After the first few weeks of that same p.e routine he finally texted the Jock, their last text being said Jock telling him to do his homework for the month in 2006, it’s a strange feeling, still, Crispin hits send on that ‘Thank you n srry’ just to be hit with a reply in the middle of the night, for Crispin anyway, saying, ‘gaylord.’
Crispin hit ring without thinking, 4:30am-ish, he’s high as a kite and feeling all types of ways, sorry is the main one though.
“What?” The answer is with haste. All Kylar can hear is a crisping sound then a shaky exhale.
“Sorry.” An ashtray is being tapped on clear as day.
“Oh fuck off.”
“I got some extra X if your knee isn’t too bad, ‘stead of percs?”
“Knees. And who the fuck blazes at four thirty in the mornin’?”
Crispin’s face twists… ‘knees’ he thinks before exhaling another puff real quick to distract,
“I’ll bring em in Monday, what ya’ up to?”
“Dude. You’re not a girl, don’t ask me what im fuckin doin’ at this time of the morning! I’ll block you right now.”
Crispin snorts,
“What ya doin?” Its slurred and airy, as if Kylar isn’t partly serious.
“Workin out. Actually.”
“About yknow…I’m soooorrrrryy!”
“You already said, dipshit. Doesn’t matter anyway, I got more percs than ever before after these past few weeks, could jam em down his throat if he tries too much.”
“You should do that.” Crispin grins.
“Im not fuckin’ stupid. Probably end up gettin’ strangled to fuckin’ death in return. Are all you potheads this dumb!?” He quips, breath unsteady as a timer goes off in the background, a muffle of ‘phew’ as a weight hits the floor with a clang.
“Oh you’re actually workin… out.. pft!” The brunette giggles through a heaving cough forcing its way out.
“We aren’t all losers like you, beatin’ it till all times of the night.” He chuckles back, Crispin snorts.
“I wouldn’t even be able to… if I was you.”
A tap can be heard running as suddenly as Kylar’s voice sounds clear and close too now,
“Thank God you aren’t me then.” Its dry, wit present.
Seems as though a towel is being wrung out, a post work out cool down, Crispin assumes with half a mind still here.
“I mean- I haven’t even myself- I tried then- dunno. Didn’t work.”
The brunettes’ half sprawled off his bed, in complete zen before Kylar cackling cuts his sympathy short.
“YOUR dick won’t work cause I’M gettin’ raped? R u fuckin’ gay for me or wut?” He hisses through a dark snort.
Crispin grimaced before it turned into a chuckle,
“No like- I dont knoowww- it’s not like that! I just felt bad!”
“Yeah. Alright.” Sarcasm present within Kylar’s words.
“Raped? For real?” Crispin murmurs, Kylar hums.
“Well. Only a few more weeks till summer break, I think it’ll stop after then.”
“Why? Cause you’ll be 18?” Kylar once again hums and both ends of the line are quiet for a while.
Some creaking can be heard to an almost asleep Crispin and Kylar is ushering his… hamster? To get in its cage, before a muffled thunk and Kylar is rustling around.
“I wish you’d hang up already.” The Jock mumbles, Crispin giggles light.
“My phones on my ear… can’t be bothered to move.” It’s a slight whisper while Kylar grunts.
“Bring the X round mine.”
“Eh…? Your- yours?!” A delirious Crispin manages.
“Don’t get my stuff till Monday after-school.”
“Can’t you just… beat his ass. Hes like— uhohhh- old as SHIT.”
“Tomorrow. bring ur shit. Night.” Its raspy with annoyance, a clear somewhat feigned annoyance though and that’s good enough for Crispin to be able to sleep well enough tonight.
“Yeah.” The line cuts out. Crispin, snorts before rolling over and closing dry eyes.