Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): AU, Slash, Threesome, Teacher/Student, BDSM, pain kink, domestic violence, etc.
Chris allowed his eyes to scan over the classroom. It was his last class of the day, and while he normally would be excited (his Genetics class, after all, was his best behaved class of the day) there was one problem. His name was Phillip Jack Brooks, otherwise known as every teacher's nightmare. He sat in the first row, front and center, so Chris could keep an eye on him. But his seat was empty. He had come to school that day and his seat was empty. The little bastard was skipping his class.
Normally, Chris wouldn't have minded. A day without the little bastard sent him into freaking seventh heaven. But today had been far from normal. He had spilled his coffee on his new white button-down, rear-ended some bastard on his way into work, and had made it all the way to McDonald's before he remembered that his wallet had been in the pocket of the shirt now destined for the dry cleaners. And while he wasn't exactly fond of Phil's disrespectful behavior, he needed someone to glare at that would actually take the time to glare back.
With a sigh, he closed out of the attendance window. "Has anyone seen Phil today?" He asked nonchalantly, but a deadly fire burned in his eyes. They knew better than to question him right about now.
After a moment of silence, the young girl that sat in the seat next to Phil tentatively raised her hand. Her name was Serena. "I think that I saw him run into the bathroom, sir. His face was all bloody."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "Did you see what happened?" Before he could even finish, she was hurriedly shaking her head. She twitched uncomfortably under the stares of her fellow classmates.
"No, I… I've said too much already!" A dark blush coated her tanned skin and she stared down at her desk, embarrassed.
He paused for a moment, and then he said, "Come out into the hall and talk with me for a second, okay?" She looked up and nodded weakly. "Class, open your textbooks to page one-hundred sixteen and answer the questions. I'll be back in a minute."
The sound of rustling papers followed shortly thereafter. Serena had already made her way out into the hallway and she peered inside the classroom nervously. Chris flashed her a small smile, trying to convey that he didn't bite, but it didn't work. Once he was sure that the class understood the assignment, he slid his chair back and followed her out into the hallway. She was ringing her hands until the dark skin turned an unsettling white, which he had come to notice was a habit when she was in an uncomfortable situation.
Chris knew that, right now, he was sitting on a gold mine of information. Serena was Phil's best friend. Hell, Chris had reason to believe that she was his only friend. And he was pretty sure that Phil wouldn't be a candidate for friend of the year. But even with this fact in mind, it was easy to see that Phil had confided a terrible secret to her. Tears bubbled in her dark eyes as she tried and failed to control her emotions. And then, in one emotive burst, she came out with the entire story.
"What I said earlier in there? I lied. I know that it was wrong, but…" she swallowed hard, "if Phil knew that I told you what had happened, he'd never speak to me again. He's my best friend and I don't know what I'd do without him and…"
"Whoa. Slow down, Serena. Just take your time, okay? There's no need to be so worked up about it." But his words only made her more upset and he didn't understand why.
"There… There is reason for me to be upset. Phil's boyfriend almost killed him and threatened to do worse if he ever told! Phil told me, but only because he wanted to shut me up about the blood. The bastard ripped his lip ring out." Serena sobbed.
"Where is he now, Serena?" A tremor of panic leaked into his tone.
"There was so much blood. So, so much blood…" Serena ranted on.
Chris took hold of her shoulders and shook her once. "Serena! Do you remember where he went?"
Serena sniffled and rubbed at her reddened eyes. The tears continued to pour from them, never ceasing. She nodded weakly. "He's in the second floor bathroom. There was blood everywhere and he just wanted to clean himself up…"
"Okay. Here's what I need you to do. I want you to head down to the main office and have them send down a substitute teacher. I'll take care of Phil, okay? He's gonna be fine. You don't need to worry about him anymore."
Serena only shook her head. "Until the next time he gets his hands on him…"
Before Chris could form his rebuttal, Serena ran off to do as she had been told. It didn't really matter anyhow. He would talk with her about this later, when she was in a better frame of mind. Right now, she wouldn't be much help to him at all. Remembering that she had said the second floor bathroom, he made his way downstairs. If he hadn't already known where it was, it wouldn't have been difficult to find. A tiny trail of blood droplets led to the bathroom door. It stood closed, dark and ominous, like a barricade.
Chris didn't even bother to knock. It was, after all, a public bathroom. The door opened with an awful creak and Chris' senses were immediately assaulted with the smell of mildew and cheap, dollar store soap. He looked around. There was no sign of Phil. But the occasional hiccupping sob told him that Serena had led him to the right place. A light flickered overhead, spewing yellowing light over the off-white tiles. The blue stalls looked almost green like this. Should a high school bathroom look this creepy?
He started to walk from stall to stall, testing the doors to see if any of them were locked. There was no-one else in the bathroom, save for the two of them. After searching each of the stalls and doing one more quick search of the bathroom, he concluded that Phil was in the handicapped stall. This was confirmed when he carefully pushed on that door and was bombarded with the sight of dark, crimson blood. It stained Phil's Guns and Roses t-shirt and made the paper towels in his hand look like rose petals.
"Why aren't you at the nurse?" It was all Chris could think to say at that moment.
Phil nearly jumped out of his skin. "What the fuck are you doing here?" But the sound was muffled as he gnawed on the paper towels.
"I could ask you the same thing." But then he sighed. Now wasn't the time to fight with Phil, no matter how much his day demanded it. "You're not tending the wound correctly. You're using warm water. That won't do shit."
Phil raised an eyebrow at the use of vulgar language, but didn't comment. "Since when are you a medical genius, Mr.-Science-Prodigy?"
Chris rolled his eyes. "I'm not. But I do know that warm water makes you bleed faster." He took a clump of paper towels and twisted them into a ribbon. He then wet it with cold water. "Chew on that."
"Why?" Phil bit out nastily.
"Do you want to bleed to death?" Chris countered.
Phil's eyes lowered to the floor. Chris took that as his answer. "That's what I thought." Phil begrudgingly opened his mouth and allowed Chris to shove the paper towel ribbon into it. He bit down onto the hunk of cold, wet paper to hold it in place.
The two stared at each other awkwardly for several minutes. Dark, crimson blood stained the paper towel and spread out like a flower to the different soggy corners. Chris watched it, mesmerized. He liked to believe that there was good in all kids (Phil being the exception to that, of course), but upon seeing this, that entire system of belief could be called into question. Nobody deserved to sit in the bathroom all alone, tending to wounds that were created by someone who claimed to love them.
"You know, after all of this is over, I'll have to fill out an incident report…" Chris trailed off.
Suddenly, Phil was on his feet. As he bit down on the paper towel, more blood splattered onto the blotchy surface. "You wouldn't dare!"
"It's the law, Phil. If someone finds out that there was a physical altercation between two students and I knew about it, but didn't report it, I could be fired. Besides, I would think that you wouldn't want him anywhere near you." Chris said.
"I'll show you where you can shove your incident report! You know, for a second there, I actually made the mistake of thinking you were different." He laughed bitterly. "Just another bad call on my part." And then, he turned around and stormed out of the bathroom.
It was after the final bell and Jeff Hardy, the school's resident art enthusiast, sat out in the fields overlooking the football field. His sketchbook sat on his lap, open to a clean page. The wind would gently ruffle the pages and cause them to flip through all of the drawings that he had completed thus far. All of them were of the same person. His name was Adam Copeland. And, if Jeff were to be completely honest with himself, he had been the fuel for his creative fire since middle school.
Adam was the captain of the cheerleaders. With his long, fluffy blond hair, sharp hazel eyes, and winning smile, it was easy to see how he had achieved such an important role in his junior year. Dressed in his skimpy little uniform: short red and white shirt, tight red half-shirt that left deliciously pale skin to glimmer in the Carolina sun, and white sneakers just crusted with a fine layer of mud – he was easily any man's wet dream. And today, for Jeff, it certainly wasn't any different.
The music pumped loud and clear in the background. The routine flowed smoothly, and eventually, Adam was lifted onto the top of the tower. Jeff hurriedly sketched away, not wanting to miss such a beautiful moment. Wind tossed his blond locks over his broad shoulders and caused the back of his skirt to hike up, revealing a sexy white thong that didn't leave much to the imagination. Adam didn't even seem to be fazed by the fact that he had just bared his ass to the world, and they lowered him down with a sound of triumph.
Once he was satisfied with the preliminary sketch, he took out his art kit and started to fill in the color. Soon, the picture of Adam seemed to become Adam. Adam, in all of his beauty, with his dazzling looks and his beautiful smile. Jeff had wanted him forever. And every time that he was unable to make it to practice, he missed him. But the beauty of living forever in want was that you can't miss what was never yours. And Adam already belonged to another.
Adam called for a break and wandered over to grab his water bottle. Before he could make it, however, arms circled around his middle and swooped him into the air. "Hey, hey! Cut it out!" Adam cried weakly, with no menace behind it.
"I can't help it, babe. You just look so damn hot in that little cheerleader's outfit, I couldn't resist you." Jay smirked lazily. "What do you say I take you back to my place after practice? My folks are out of town and…"
Adam's eyes flashed as he pictured the fun they could have. "It sounds like a date." And he leaned up, locking lips with his boyfriend. Without hearing a word of their conversation, that action alone broke Jeff's heart.
