Remy sat out at one of the tables during a free period. No one else was around so he could glower in peace. Why did his brother have to move up here? Why had his dad make him come here? He glanced at the brick school building. He hated this place already. He had never even heard of Bayville while he had lived in New Orleans. And now he was suddenly dropped into a town that didn't even have a space on a map.
"Hey mutie!" He grinded his teeth and flinched as something whizzed passed his ear, something that had obviously been meant to hit him but had flown wide from it's mark. He leapt down from the table and turned to face his assailants. They were some senior jocks that he had seen walking about the school strutting their stuff earlier. He had seen them push a few of the known mutants around in the hall. He had been foolish enough to hope that he could have kept a low profile so as to not draw their attention.
He felt a punch hit him in te stomach just below his ribs and the air was knocked from his lungs. He felt some one's kick connect solidly against his back. Why couldn't he fight back? He never cursed his Uncle more then at times like these. His father and brother had tried reverse the damage done when they had found out what was going on, but they had been to late, the damage was done and the scars were there.
He just stood stalk still and took the abuse they battered on his body, feeling the anger welling up in his stomach but his body refused to cooperate, refused to punch them back. He knew better then to use his powers, and even if he had wanted to, he couldn't have. He couldn't do anything.
Finally they quit, walking away, laughing while they threw taunts and curses back over their shoulders at him. As they disappeared behind the corner of the building he crumpled to the ground. He stayed like that for a couple of minutes, just sitting in the prayer position, calculating his injuries. He stood back up, stiff after being in that one position for too long. He used the wall as support, leaning against it as he made his way back into the school, which was his own personal concentration camp.
Bobby leaned against the doorway of the gym, his body tense as he wanted to run over there and ice those jocks over. They were beating up on one of the new kids. He thought that the new kid might be a mutant but there was never any proof of that, now these guys came and accused him of being one. And he wouldn't even defend himself! How could someone attack someone like that? He watched, not moving as the older boys left and the kid lay there kneeling. He couldn't move, he didn't know why. When the kid got up and staggered away, Bobby got up and followed far behind him, shadowing him in the halls.
Remy walked aimlessly through the halls. He pushed open the bathroom door and listened. There was no one there. He pulled his bag that he wore on his right shoulder that hung down by his left hip up onto the counter. He unclenched his fist and looked for a moment at the crescent moon shapes his nails had left in his palm as a little blood appeared in them. He plunged his hand into his bag blindly looking for something. He didn't know what he was looking for, he didn't know what he wanted. All he knew was he wanted all this anger and frustration away. His hand jerked back as he struck it on something sharp. He picked up the object more carefully and came up with a pair of scissors. Scissors? What the hell?
He looked at them and opened them up. The sides formed into a long, sharp, thin line of metal. He pressed his thumb against the blade and pulled a little. A thin cut appeared and a few drops of blood welled up. He felt one of the knots of anger in his chest unravel. He felt so much better. He backed into a stall and locked the door. He pushed up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and dragged it across his upper wrist where there were no veins protruding before he dragged it along the inside of his arm sharply. He felt another knot disappear as the blood dripped in a small line down his arm.
Bobby continued waiting in the hall until Remy immerged from the bathroom. His forehead furrowed. No one takes that long in the bathroom! We walked in and looked around carefully. There was no evidence of him having been doing anything, no graffiti scrawled over the walls or anything. Bobby shrugged his shoulders. Maybe he had just been thinking.
Hmmm...I wonder will a Remy/Bobby slash be coming up? Well it really depends on what they want! I have no control! Hope you liked this little tidbit. Don't worry, there will be more if this story is well recieved.