Title: Take My Hand
Author: Every Avenue
Summary: A horrible present may just make the perfect future.
Warnings: Slash, Mpreg
Notes: Hello everyone, this is Max as in C. if you know who that is. Yes, I created a new account and I will be using this one from now on. Once I complete this story, which shouldn't take too long as I have everything planned for it, I will start on one of my other stories and make my way through the list. It's just so much easier this way and at least this way I'll finally be able to finish all of those stories! (: As I'm in my senior year of high school, it may take a little while between posts but I'm trying here! On a side note, I'm going to begin working on another story while finishing this one up and I would love to know which story you guys would like to see finished next. It's between I Won't Be Your Winter or In My Head.

Chapter One

Two more years, only two more years. It was the only thought racing and repeating through the brunettes mind as he got down on his knees and began to gather his books and papers that had scattered on the ground of the hallway. Glancing up, he could see the retreating backs of the four boys who had been responsible for the mess and sighed softly through barely parted lips. A group of passing girls then thought it would be funny to kick his pile of books he had just gathered and once more they were scattered and kicked a few more times by other students and the brunette's cheeks flushed with anger as they also started laughing before turning to enter a classroom right of him. Two years had never seemed so long before. He was tempted to just leave the books where they were in the hallway but knew that he would have to pay for them himself if he did and he definitely didn't have that sort of money. He quickly shoved everything into his book bag before he stood and was immediately shoved back onto the ground only this time he heard scuffling feet stop and strong hands pulled him up to his feet.

"Sorry about that, kid. I didn't see you." The blonde spoke and the brunette was instantly at a loss for words. Wyatt Halliwell had just helped him up. Granted, he was the one who knocked him down but he still helped him back up! Wait, kid? They were only ten months apart in age and he hardly qualified as a "kid" by those standards. Wyatt stared at him for a moment before he shook his head and walked away. A groan left his lips as he let his head drop, why couldn't he speak whenever the blonde was near him? It had been that way since middle school when they had to take care of an egg together. Of course Wyatt had barely even spoken to him then, he was far too busy studying Mindy Peterson, a pretty brunette who wore far too much makeup for her age and for her face. They dated for almost two years before they both called it quits and after that Wyatt moved from girl to girl while Mindy got pregnant by her first boyfriend after Wyatt and dropped out freshman year to take care of the baby.

The warning bell shook him from his thoughts and he quickly rushed down the hall, knowing that he was going to be late for art. It wasn't such a big problem for him though, his art teacher was one of the few that actually liked him and didn't mind if he was tardy every now and then. Still, he hated being late because it meant that everyone turned to look at him when he walked into the room and that was the one thing that he hated more than anything. He had just stepped foot into the classroom when the bell rang and he wasted no time in rushing to his seat in the back of the classroom. Everyone was talking but that stopped the moment the teacher entered the classroom and headed up to the front. He had papers in his hands and he was looking at them until he stopped and looked up at everyone.

"Everyone stand and take your stuff with you, you're getting new seats." Dread filled the brunette as he stood and grabbed his book bag. With a side glance he caught Devon Cox smirk at him and prayed that Mr. Miller wouldn't put him next to him. Devon loved to make his life difficult and had since he politely rejected his offer for a date. That had been eighth grade and they were now sophomores in high school and nothing had changed, except Devon now took shots at him every time they saw each other, including knocking everything out of the brunettes hands when he was walking through the halls. He turned his gaze back to the teacher who was now walking through the rows and placing students who looked less than pleased with their new desk partners. He held his breathe when his gaze lingered on Wyatt, he was flirting with a pretty blonde that he had been previously sitting with. She, however, seemed to be playing difficult and that had to be something that Wyatt wasn't use to. Who could say no to his big blue eyes and charming smile? He certainly couldn't.

"Wyatt Halliwell and..." The teacher scanned the room before he smiled at him. "Chris Perry."

Oh god. He pushed down the feeling of being sick long enough to walk forward and sit down next to the blonde, setting his bag on the ground near his feet. He couldn't even bring himself to look over at the blonde, his eyes stayed focused on the chalkboard.

"Devon Coy and Taylor Howard." He bit his lip as he closed his eyes when he heard Devon's name and knew that he was going to be sitting directly behind him. Why couldn't they just keep their old seats? At least then they were horizontal sitting and there had been two people between them. He heard Wyatt sigh next to him as he rested his elbows on the table and set his chin on one of his palms. Wyatt didn't even seem to remember that he was the one that he ran over in the hallway, why would he though? He was no one.

X x X

How could he have done that? Why was he so horrible? Could someone really hate someone enough to ruin their life like that? Just two hours ago he wouldn't have believed it but Devon proved him wrong, yet again. He roughly wiped away the tears that were falling down his flushed cheeks once more as he stormed up the stairs to his bedroom, grateful for the silence that was surrounding his home. He ran straight for his nightstand and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen and threw himself on his bed and then rolled onto his stomach. He was tired of this and thoroughly done with everyone and just wanted to leave. It's not like there was anyone here that needed him or would even miss him. And where was there to go? The future. Two years in the future so he could finally leave San Francisco and leave everyone and everything behind and have a fresh start in the world. Everything would be perfect in the future. After all, it couldn't be any worse than the present.