Hello, dearies!

This is just something I whipped up while flying over to dublin. Yes, it's going to be dark, because hey-those type of stories are fun to write xP

Warning: there's going to be graphic Glitch-abuse, bad language and self-harm in this story. If you are not comfortable with these topics, then look awayyy .


Glitch winced when he finished his and Mo's latest routine. He faked a smile, secretly nursing his aching side as his mentor did one of his show-off moves, dissing the other team. The group surrounding them crowed with delight, all of their attention focused on the older dancer.

"Ow," he hissed under his breath, trying to slip around the crowd without being detected. The sharp pain in Glitch's side was steadily getting worse as the seconds passed, leaving him feeling weak and shaky.

Ugh, he should have just skipped the dance battle. If he had already been on the verge of passing out before dancing, what made him think he would he be fine to dance? Dammit, I really need to think these things through…

Glitch glanced back to where Mo was, seeing him with two girls on his arms. He was obviously flirting, and was going to be there for a while.

"And there goes my ride," Glitch uttered, limping down the sidewalk in the direction of his apartment.

"Yo! Glitch!"

Mo jogged up next to the waiting prodigy, the two girls watching him from afar with pouts on their glittery lips. Glitch reluctantly dredged up his usual happy façade, taking his hand away from his bruised side.

"What's up, lil' man?" Mo asked. "Why're you takin' off so fast? The sun's jus' startin' to set!"

"Sorry, Mo," Glitch apologized cheerily. "I just ain't feelin' so hot. There's a flu goin' 'round school, an' I think I caught it."

Mo's eyes widened marginally at the thought of getting sick. He could easily catch a cold off of someone, even if they were twenty feet away with a mask over their mouths.

"Then stay the hell away from me," Mo joked, holding his hands up. Glitch felt a twinge in his heart, but ignored it. It was just a joke, stop gettin' all worked up. "Well, hope ya feel better. Text me if you need me ta take ya to the doc or somethin'."

Glitch nodded tiredly and waved good-bye, turning around. As soon as he was sure Mo couldn't see his face, his smile vanished. He tried to walk with as little of a limp as possible until he rounded the corner.

Mo frowned slightly, watching Glitch disappear from his sight. Something wasn't right with his Nano-byte, but he couldn't place his finger on it. He'd been acting weird all day, and was he walking oddly?

Maybe he should ask the others, he mused. They would surely have noticed to, if it were anything big. All of the other dancers felt at least a small bit of protectiveness over the dancer, since he was the youngest of them all. Even the Lady-Gaga-esque freaks up at Glitterati had expressed some type of concern in their weird way towards Glitch when he hurt his wrist.

It can wait, though, Mo decided with a smirk as the two hotties attached themselves to his sides. He leisurely walked back to the party, throwing himself into the festivities.

Home again.

Glitch unlocked the door and entered the silent loft, not bothering to turn on the lights. It was plain and modern, with sparse furniture, with floor to ceiling windows and a staircase that led upstairs. The sun had completely set by now, making it pitch black.

The light from the hallway illuminated had a note on the table next to the door. Picking it up, Glitch quickly skimmed it.

Darren and I will be out of the country for the next week or so. Don't do anything to the house or something that would make us have to come back. Money's in the kitchen.

It was unsigned, but Glitch could tell from the cursive that it was his foster mother. Crumpling the piece of paper up, he stuffed it into his pocket and kicked off his shoes, closing the door.

He worked on autopilot as he went into the large kitchen, turning on the overhead lights. Glitch mechanically grabbed a frozen pizza from the stainless steel freezer, and turned the oven on to the directed temperature. As he waited for it to preheat, he dragged his feet to the bathroom.

Blinking rapidly to get used to the blinding light, Glitch stared at himself in the mirror above the sink. He observed how his hair was dull and his eyes lacked life, lined with heavy bags. His skin was pale, and a bruise peeked from underneath his brightly colored shirt.

This was always the part Glitch hated the most. Holding his breath, he carefully pulled his shirt over his head, along with the bandana he always wore. Glitch examined all of the cuts and bruises that littered his chest, focusing closely on where his side was swollen and the strange marks around his neck.

"Ugh," Glitch winced when he gingerly poked his side. He sighed in relief when he deemed his ribs to only be bruised, not broken. If they had been broken, he would have been screwed.

The oven beeped, signaling the oven was ready. Throwing his shirt over his shoulder, the young dancer made his way to the kitchen, almost tripping over the couch in the dark. He let out a strangled cry of agony as his side was harshly jarred.

Digging his teeth into his bottom lip, Glitch pushed himself back up and shakily entered the kitchen. He turned off the oven and put the half-melted pizza back into the freezer. He just didn't feel like eating—it would hurt too much.

Glitch started to go to the stairs, but stopped in front of them. His eyes took in each of the stairs individually, debating silently in his head.

"Nope."

He turned around and went to the couch. He hated those stairs—on good days he always seemed to stumble or somehow hurt himself. The last thing Glitch wanted was to fall and have to call someone for help. People would ask too many questions.

His backpack was still by the door from that afternoon, when he had stopped at home before meeting up with Mo. He dragged it loosely at his side to the couch and turned on the light. He unzipped it and started his nightly routine of sifting through the hate notes.

'Your dancing sucks!'

'Fuck you, you stupid fag!'

'I hope you go burn in hell and die!'

Most of these were written over his class assignments or notes, which would no doubt get him in loads of trouble the next day. They all ranged from ridiculing his dance moves to made up things that everyone believed.

Glitch purposefully ripped out all of the pages that had writing on them. He crumpled them up and tossed them blindly in the direction of the trashcan. He knew that he had hopelessly missed, but couldn't seem to find the energy to care.

He shifted so he was on his stomach, face buried in one of the pillows. He jolted when he jarred his ribs, and carefully rubbed them, mind drifting to how they were hurt.

A surprised cry left Glitch's mouth when hands grabbed the back of his jacket. They wrenched him into out of the crowded hallways of the school and into the boy's bathroom. He was thrown against one of the stonewalls, his head cracking against it loudly. Dizziness made it nearly impossible to concentrate on what the group of boys was saying.

"Are you listening to us?" one of them snarled, punching Glitch in the stomach.

The air whooshed out of Glitch's lungs, making him double over in pain and gasp desperately. He saw the next fist coming, and quickly, dropped to his knees, dodging it.

It didn't work out as well he had hoped, sadly. It infuriated the boy even more, and he sent a barrage of punches and kicks raining down on Glitch's prone body. One of the others joined in, while everyone else cheered them on, urging the two to 'beat his skinny ass into the ground!'

He had tried to curl onto his stomach to protect himself, but they decided that they weren't having any of that. He was rolled over with a harsh kick to the shoulder. Another was delivered to his upper stomach, making a horrific, wet cracking sound ring above the jeering.

Glitch felt a sharp stab in his side just thinking about it. It was so intense that he had to practically crawl to the bathroom to find some type of painkiller.

Through his bleary eyes, Glitch saw a vicious grin. "Let's see how you can dance with a broken rib," one of his attackers laughed.

Glitch scrunched his face, fighting back the tears he could feel coming. He knew that if he allowed them to fall, he would be in for a world of unimaginable torment.

The onlookers and the two beating Glitch started to lose interest. They filed out of the bathroom, making sure to throw in their exiting insults.

The last one did an extra harsh kick to his bruised ribs, muttering, "Fucking freak."

Glitch didn't like how truthful those last two words were starting to sound.


I promise this story's gonna have a happy ending for our darling Glitch! Dx

As with every story, please review and favorite. I love you all~