Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original breakfast club characters
Andrew Clark violently threw all his possessions into old cardboard boxes. He had been told months before the current date of his displeasure that he would be moving, but the date actually becoming more than just talk had driven him to almost full rage.
After finding a new job so soon after losing his, everyone else in Andrew's family were happy, even excited for his father. Not Andrew. He found no reason to be excited over a job that paid fifty percent of his original job, or a new house, compliments of the cut in pay, that was located in what was practically the ghetto of Illinois. Those were not things to be happy about, they were things to dread.
Andrew's mother had promised him time and time again that their new home was a nice one, just slightly smaller, and that he could still go to the same school. Neither one of these things brought him comfort. She had to have been lying about the house, it was in the worst part of the neighborhood, and if he was going to be living in such an area, he didn't want to go to the same school. He didn't want all the people who looked up to him to see what he'd become, where he had to live.
Could he still be respected if he was broke and living in the shittiest part of town?
John Bender sat on the front steps of the wreck he called a home. He took a long drag of his cigarette, before throwing it on the ground and smothering it with his foot until it could no longer ember.
Next door, a large moving truck pulled in. The thought that someone actually bought the shit hole next door was so shocking that John nearly fell backwards. The house was even shittier than his own. The shingles flew off whenever there was a storm, the porch fell apart from under your feet on a regular basis, not to mention the house was sandwiched in between the Bender residence and the biggest meth house in the area. Plus, John was convinced the previous home owner had murdered his wife in their bedroom, but his suspicions had yet to be confirmed.
John's jaw practically fell to the ground as he watched Andrew Clark, the biggest jock in school, step out of the car that followed the moving truck. After meeting him just one day before, John had thought and hoped he would never see the jock-strap again. He knew too many things, and saw a side of John that he never wanted any repeat acquaintances to see.
He watched silently as Andrew took an unimpressed look at his new home. The jock turned to his mom, but did a double take when he saw John sitting on the steps just one house over. If this was a normal occasion, John might have said some smart ass comment or waved mockingly or something, but he wasn't in the mood at the particular moment, so instead he just took another drag of his cigarette and ignored the pair of eyes trying to bore holes into his back with their glares.
Andrew found it excruciatingly difficult to fall asleep knowing that the school criminal was just one house over. The same heartless John Bender who could have killed him back in detention, but didn't because he claimed he didn't want to deal with the law suits, now had a house just two feet away from his own.
To make matters worse: John knew the territory of the neighborhood and the .?docid=18897145ces that he knew the anatomy of the whole house in which Andrew now resided in were high. If he wanted to, he could probably sneak into the house and steal whatever he wanted to without making the slightest noise or even having to break in. He could probably navigate around the house in his sleep. If he did, it wasn't like his family would be able to pinpoint it on John, not when there was an overdose of thugs in the area.
Andrew groaned and forced his eyes shut. John was not breaking into his house. John was a fucking idiot, not a high class thug. His idea of being bad was making everyone else miserable by calling them names or stealing a screw, not breaking into their house and robbing them for all they were worth. At that hour of the night, John Bender was probably sleeping off the results of his latest binge drinking adventure, he wasn't about to let someone as stupid as Bender take away his nights sleep.
A surprisingly loud crash broke Andrew from his attemptions to fall asleep. In the blink of an eye, Andrew Clark was downstairs, armed with a baseball bat, observing the whole premises to find that there was absolutely no sign of forced entry, or a single thing broken. The crash had not come from inside his house; he was safe.
Andrew's stomach suddenly churned as he remembered the cigar burn Bender had shown him the day before. He was safe, but was Bender? The noise had to have come from either one of his neighbors houses, since it wasn't his own…
Andrew groaned again. He didn't care. John Bender was not his sudden responsibility just because they were next door from each other. There was almost nothing to worry about anyways, Bender was a stupid individual who did stupid things. He had probably gotten himself shitfaced and ran into a vase or something.
Convinced he had nothing more to worry about, Andrew went back into his room and continued his desperate attempts to get sleep. Unfortunately, this was even more difficult then it had been before.
Andrew's father came to pick him up after school as usual, but this time the car headed for an entirely new destination. Andrew felt sick again, and contemplated jumping out of the car and running back to the school building. School was familiar, it was normal, it was what his life used to be like and what it should have remained.
There was, of course, one reason to go back to his house; John. Though Andrew would never admit it to anyone outside of his head, he had spent a decent amount of time at school being worried over him. He hadn't been at school at all; he didn't even go to make Clair's life miserable and prove that she couldn't keep her promise. If he hadn't found that as motivation enough to get out of bed, then something had to be wrong with him.
The car pulled into the bumpy driveway. Andrew watched outside his window as John, wearing at least two coats, once again tried his hardest to ignore his existence. This time, he was not equip with a cigarette, or even a bottle of alcohol. He was just sitting on the steps shivering, which Andrew found odd enough to inspire him to strike up a conversation. They were neighbors now, after all. They didn't, by any means whatsoever, need to be friends, but they at least needed some positive feelings towards each other.
"What are you doing? It's freezing, aren't you cold?" Andrew asked, trying to sound casual. He was given a threatening glare but otherwise ignored even longer before John got the hint that he wasn't going away. He watched as Bender's mouth dropped a little and his head spun to face him, giving him the genuine "what the hell do you think you're doing" look.
"No." He said, managing to hold in all swear words. Truth be told, Bender was cold, he was more then cold, he was fucking freezing, and had been for some time. The cold, however, was more bearable then reporting back into the house when his father had made it very clear that he was unwanted by locking him out in the first place. At that moment, John just wanted to be cold on the steps by himself.
Andrew took a moment to observe his neighbor. This wasn't John Bender, the cocky, sarcastic, shithead from detention. This stranger was filled with raw hatred, and wanted nothing to do with other people even if it meant he got to torture them with his ability to be a prick. This was the same stranger that had slipped through only once two days earlier, when he throw books everywhere and pulled himself on top of the staircase by the side like some kind of werewolf or something.
Taking further note that Andrew wasn't about to leave him be, Bender pulled himself up to his feet, stuffed his cold hands into his pockets, and silently made his way down the street. He decided he would walk until he made it to the richer houses, then he would silently hate them all for everything they had and everything they took for granted.
"Hey," Bender heard from behind, and without warning, Andrew grabbed the still swollen shoulder from the night before, causing a sharp pain to run through Bender's whole right side. He winced and spun around, slamming the culprit of his sudden pain in the face with his fist and knocking him down.
Andrew blinked in surprise before ultimately becoming pissed. He had tried to be friendly towards John, tried being neighborly, and this is what he got in return? Did anyone in the whole neighborhood even know how to act like a good person, let alone a good neighbor, because if they did they'd know that good people did not randomly punch other people in the face.
"What the fuck did you do that for? My face!" Andrew exclaimed as he held onto his bleeding nose with both hands. He looked up and glared as John spun around again to glare back to him, showing Andrew that he had no compassion for what he had just done. And Bender truly didn't. He got hit every night of his life for doing absolutely nothing. If Andrew had taken a hint instead of grabbing his aching shoulder, he wouldn't have gotten punched at all.
"Fucking prick!" Andrew yelled as John started to walk away. John laughed in a mocking tone before turning and walking back to Andrew, who was still on the ground. At this point, Bender looked scary and unpredictable, which changed Andrew's thoughts about him not being a risk factor.
"Oh, I'm the prick? Let me ask you something Sporto, how many of them did you talk to today? Did you even say hi to any of them?" He asked, laughing again as Andrew tried playing stupid. He knew very well that John was talking about the breakfast club, who else would he be asking about?
"Clair and Allison ate lunch with me you fucking prick, and I just tried talking to you before you fucking punched me in the face!" Andrew said as he pointed to his blood covered face. The look in Bender's eyes was cold; he didn't care at all. Something told Andrew that he'd even do it again if he could.
"Big fucking woop. Cherry and Allison can't ruin your reputation now that Allison's a mini Clair. And don't worry about fucking talking to me, because I don't want you to. Just because you're a fucking house away from me now doesn't mean we're friends, so go blow yourself with all your jock buddies and leave me alone." Bender shouted coldly as he began walking away for the final time.
"I thought you wouldn't treat any of us like this, I thought it was so shitty to treat someone like that you fucking prick?" Andrew asked, finally picking himself off the ground. He never thought he'd have a thought like the one he was having at that moment ever in his lifetime, but he actually missed the sarcastic and cocky Bender. At least he wasn't dangerous.
"I lied." Bender called back as he slowly disappeared.
Night had come and to somewhat of a relief to Andrew, Bender wasn't back yet. This made it safe for Andrew to sit on his own porch and get some fresh air to think. He'd been on the porch for three hours, and still had no intentions of getting up. He had a lot to think about.
Andrew missed his old house so much that it almost hurt. His new neighborhood was so dangerous and fucked up. He'd seen little kids smoking cigarettes, their parents no where to be found. He'd seen eight drug exchanges, and he saw John's mother realize her son was no where to be found, and still find it in easy to go about her normal day.
Finally, Bender and some other stoner made their way to John's front stops. The other stoner was begging for something, and was obviously drunk out his ass from the way he swayed when he walked. Bender seemed mostly sober, though he most likely had something to drink. He seemed fully ready to grab his friend as soon as he fell over, which was bound to happen with how drunk he was.
"What do you think, I'm fucking rich? I just gave you one last night, go get your own." Bender said softly, not exactly knowing why he was wasting his time arguing with someone who was too completely trashed to think logically anyways. It wouldn't be the last time he had wasted his time with something completely stupid.
"Hey, hey, at least, at least you can get smokes from the store. I got kicked out of that fucking place last time I tried that shit. Doesn't your mom have any?" the kid asked, giving Andrew the idea that he wasn't talking about achieving cigarettes by purchasing them when he said getting them at the store.
"Katherine hides them now, and I'm not putting my ass on the line and making noise trying to find them. Wear a hood. That fat idiot won't recognize you anyways, he's a fucking moron. Just wait until the morning to go." John added, taking not that his friend was far too drunk to try taking anything inconspicuously.
"Come on Bender, I can't wait that long! Isn't there something I can do to get a smoke from you?" He asked, trying to put his hand on Bender's shoulder but missing by a long shot. The scum of America resided in the houses surrounding Andrew's; this was just perfect.
"I already told you I don't fucking have enough. You can always sleep with Nina, maybe she'll give you some. She's big enough of a ho." Bender joked, referring to his slut of a half sister. She made it her business to sleep with practically everyone in town, and she was usually a gold digger in most cases.
"I wouldn't touch that whore with a three foot pole." The kid said, falling to the side a little before regaining his composure. Bender laughed before telling his friend to go home before he got himself into trouble. He then silently opened the door to his own house and crept inside.
Bender's friend swayed for a while before starting his way home, until he noticed Andrew through the shadows. He pointed a wobbly finger and made his way over, almost making Andrew laugh. He looked like a zombie in the thriller music video or something.
"Hey you," He called as he continued on his wobbly way, "you're new. Bender didn't tell me someone finally bought your piece of shit house. My name's Mark." He said, his breath filled with alcohol.
"My name's Andrew." He said flatly, not knowing how to deal with someone who was so drunk. Sure, he wasn't exactly the model sober kid himself, but he only got trashed at parties. He never had to deal with someone so shitfaced without fifty other shit faced people around.
"Andrew, you wear that letterman's jacket around here you're gonna get your ass kicked." Mark said, laughing at something not particularly funny and making Andrew a little uncomfortable. However, Mark seemed a lot less dangerous than Bender. In fact, he seemed completely safe. He hadn't tried taking the jacket at all yet, so Andrew figured he could be trusted more than anyone else on his block.
"I'm more nervous about Bender than anyone else. I grabbed his shoulder today and he punched me in the face. He almost broke my nose over nothing." Andrew said, finding it strangely odd to confide his fears in someone who was so hammered; they probably weren't making sense out of any of the words that came out of his mouth. He watched as Mark laughed at him.
"He's not all that scary. He got a lamp thrown at his shoulder last night, you probably just pulled too hard. Just don't touch him and you won't get the shit beaten out of you. Here are some tips: don't talk to him, don't stare at him, and never, ever call the police no matter what you hear, got that? You may think it's helping, but involving the police around here just gets everyone in a pissfull of trouble. Follow those rules and you won't have anything to worry about, he'll leave you alone." Mark said, shocking Andrew with all the things he was telling him upon their first meeting. He felt guilty; if Mark wasn't wasted he wouldn't be revealing all of John's secrets.
"See you kid," Mark said as he took off, leaving Andrew to stare at John's house. Everything John had told them was the truth. His father really did beat the shit out of him, and now, whether he liked it or not, it was going to make its way into Andrew's life and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
a/n: as if it's not obvious by this point, i no longer write fanfictions. I write my own stories on fictionpress (account name: mychemicalpocky) but because i'm still receiving reviews for this i figured i'd at least try to finish it up. Upon reading it and trying to remember waht it was about i practically choked with how much it sucked, so i figured i'd start rewriting. this whole chapter has been reconstructed, but the overall idea is pretty much the same