A/N: This fic is (very) loosely based on Beauty and the Beast, and a perfect example of what happens when I watch too many Disney movies.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to CP Coulter. Beauty and the Beast belongs to-Walt Disney? Point is, I own nothing. Oh, except Brandon, but I don't really like him much anyway!
He should've let it go.
"Let go of me, man!"
He should have.
It was just another stupid comment, a quick whisper in the hallway about his sexuality—and Logan had dealt with too much of that at home, that he's learned to brush those off with a simple raise of his eyebrow. But Brandon Rivers had been on his high horse for far too long, and the blonde couldn't resist turning around to put Brandon back in his place.
"What was that, Rivers?" Logan asked menacingly, as he held onto the front of the other boy's shirt more tightly.
"I told you to let go of me," Brandon said, roughly pushing the blonde off of him.
"That's not what I meant," Logan continued pointedly.
"Whatever, Wright," the other boy glowered. "I don't have to answer to you."
Logan walked right up to the sandy-haired boy again and gave him a light shove, before he said, "Well, the next time you have something to say about me, I suggest you say it to my face."
"I do have a few things to say, now that you mention it," Brandon sneered.
"Do those things have anything to do with the fact that you're still pissed—"
"—that the Knave beat you at that fencing tournament last weekend?"
Both boys turned around and saw the Brightman twins standing behind them, identical grins plastered on their faces.
Logan smirked.
"This isn't about that anymore!" Brandon said furiously.
"Really?" Ethan asked curiously.
"Then how come the whole school thinks otherwise?" Evan shrugged.
"Because you're insane, the whole lot of you!" Brandon exclaimed. "Just admit it, there's a reason no one sticks around you three long enough!"
And then suddenly, Logan punched the older boy in the face. Brandon fell back against the lockers, and groaned as he buried his face in his hands.
"What the hell was that for?" Evan asked, outraged, as he turned to look at the blonde.
"He was getting on my nerves," Logan replied, cracking his knuckles.
"You can't just punch people in the face!" Ethan continued. "Even if they are annoying, little—!"
Pow!
Logan staggered back, and his hand immediately flew to his nose.
"You best not mess with me, Wright," Brandon said threateningly. He stood over Logan and smiled wickedly at him, before he started to walk away.
"Are you okay?" Ethan asked worriedly, as he rushed to Logan's side.
"We're totally getting him back for this, Knave—."
The rest of Evan's sentence was lost to Logan as he drew his hand back and realized that he was bleeding. When he looked back up to see Brandon's retreating figure, he swiftly stood up. The blonde then ran towards the other boy, grabbed the back off his shirt, and pushed Brandon into the lockers. A couple of girls nearby dropped their book in surprise, but Logan hardly noticed.
"What the hell!" Brandon cried, before Logan punched him in the gut and knocked the wind out of him.
"Logan, stop it!" Evan said firmly, stepping in between the two boys. But the older boy merely pushed him aside and hit Logan square in the face.
"Get off him!" Ethan demanded, as he crouched next to Logan's form. He tried to hold Logan back as he stood up, but the blonde was struggling too much for Ethan to keep a firm hold on him. "Logan! This won't end well!"
"You bet!" Brandon shouted, as he tried to break away from Evan. "No one'll be able to recognize you once I'm through!"
At that, Logan elbowed Ethan painfully in the ribs. Ethan cried out in pain and let go of the blonde, who then threw Evan aside. Brandon prepared to strike again, but Logan was too quick for him.
"You," Logan panted, as his hands closed tightly around Brandon's neck, "will stay far away from me. Got it?"
The older jock could only let out a strangled cry in response, as he tried to pry Logan's hands off his neck.
"Logan! Let go of him!" Evan cried, as he and his twin tried to pull the blonde away.
But the voices in Logan's head were screaming so loudly at him, that he couldn't properly distinguish them anymore from the screams in the hallway.
"Oh my god! What is he doing?"
Let go!
"He's insane!"
This can't be happening…
"Someone call for help!"
Nonono—NO!
Logan gasped then finally let go off Brandon's neck. The other boy fell panting onto the floor, a little bit shaken—but still alive—and Logan ran out of there before Brandon even had a chance to look up.
&.&.&
He was in so much trouble; that much he knew.
But Logan couldn't be punished for something he couldn't control. Or at least, that's what his doctor told him.
"He's got it," Dr. King informed them somberly.
"Anger issues?" Senator Wright asked irritably. He was there, Logan knew, for the sole purpose of doing some damage control. If it was any other issue, one not as severe, he would've sent an assistant to do it.
"You could put it that way," the doctor replied, looking over her chart.
"So he's a—," the Senator paused, and Logan almost smirked as he wondered what word his dad would use on him this time. Disgrace? Lost cause? Complete embarrassment? "—beast."
Oh. That was new.
Dr. King looked up at the Senator in shock, before she said, "That's a little harsh, Sir. It's quite the tragedy really. I take it though that up until now, nothing's come up?"
"She's talking to you, boy."
"I've been angry before," Logan said, as he pointedly ignored his dad's comment, "But… never like this."
"I see," the doctor replied sympathetically.
"Whatever the case," Mr. Wright cut in, as he glared at his son, "You better wait for me out in the hall. The doctor and I will discuss what to do with you."
Logan wordlessly got up from his chair, and started walking out of the room.
"We can fix this, Senator. We can make your son better," the doctor said, as Logan stepped out and closed the door. "There are pills, and therapy. He just needs time, Sir."
"That is not the way to go," the Senator insisted. "I'll look after him the same way my father looked out for me; with a firm hand."
"But that isn't advised for his condition!" Dr. King tried to explain. "You just have to care for your son, look after him—!"
"To hell with that you think," the Senator snarled. "Just give him a bottle of those pills you were talking about earlier and he'll be fine."
"I—," the doctor tried to protest, but she thought better of it when the older man glared at her. "All right then," she said instead, as she quickly wrote down her patient's prescription.
"I suppose that's that," Mr. Wright scoffed. "Besides, who could ever love a beast?"