Title: Dead Man Walking

Summary: When Rex and his family move, he is made to transfer into a new high school. Hoping to start anew and maybe actually make some friends this time, Rex finds himself excited rather than annoyed—especially since his good friend Weevil lives nearby. Everything seems to be going okay until one of the upperclassmen in Rex's new gym class decides to make it his personal mission to discover whether or not the carpet matches the drapes.

Contains: Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Rape-Recovery

Pairing: Rex X Weevil, Rex X OMC

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or the characters and make no money from the writing of this fic.

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at shrimpshipping, so of course I had to bring a touch of my own violent forte to it. I hope it's okay!

( ) ( ) ( )

With the last of the boxes finally put away in his new room, Rex collapsed onto his new bed for the first time. His father had been offered a new teaching job with a renowned technical school and they'd had to leave home so he could accept the job. The job meant an increase in pay—which meant Rex finally got to get rid of the bed he'd had since he was five—and the change in location meant Rex got to escape all of the bullies. (A.k.a, all the people he'd pissed off with his ego after becoming the number two duelist in the region. Apparently, being short and scrawny cancelled out the respect he deserved as a top duelist.)

Rex only had a few minutes to relax on his new bed before his mom called to him from downstairs, telling him to come get dinner. The only think she'd unpacked for the kitchen was the rice cooker and Rex groaned at the thought of a plain rice dinner. He couldn't complain though.

No, not because he was a polite, respectful kid. He couldn't complain because his mom had the temper of a wild boar. She was nice as long as no one crossed her. As soon as one ill word was spoken toward her, Rex swore her teeth turned to fangs and she grew talons in place of fingernails.

Rex sighed and went down to dinner. He helped his mother plate the rice—which, to his surprise, had been dressed up with fried eggs—and served his father. His father said something about a call he'd gotten from his new boss, his mother hummed affirmatively, and Rex just ate his dinner, indifferent to both of them. They started talking about things that made them nervous about the new neighborhood (like the absence of a nearby fish market of all things). Rex liked it here. The new house was bigger, the new school was a fresh start and he'd already visited the campus so he knew where his classes were ahead of time, and Weevil lived four blocks away. He didn't go to Rex's new school, but they could still hang out on weekends or whatever. At least Rex knew one person in the area to help him find the best card shops and arcades.

"So are you excited for school tomorrow?" Rex's mother asked, finally finished complaining about the drive to the fish market.

"I guess so," Rex said. He was eager, but not exactly excited. No one in their right mind was excited to go to school. To be honest, he was nervous, but he refused to admit that to her. She would start all kinds of weird baby talk about how he was still just her sweet, sensitive baby boy, even if he was trying to be a mean, tough teenager.

That was a conversation Rex was desperate to avoid. When his mother went to ask him more questions, Rex just shoveled his food into his mouth faster and made nonsense noises with his mouth full instead of actually answering her.

( ) ( ) ( )

A few hours after dinner, Rex had unpacked at least a third of his things and his parents had hooked up the television. They didn't have cable yet so they had to resort to either the news for the ten-thousandth time, or a movie. When Rex chose Jurassic Park, both of his parents decided to go back to unpacking the kitchen supplies, leaving Rex to watch the movie himself while eating popcorn and texting Weevil.

Weevil was telling him about a science project he was finishing, not sparing any of the boring details. Rex had never been much of a science geek, even if science was the basis of Jurassic Park's plot. He was a history buff and he liked narrative more than numbers and experiments.

"I'm eating popcorn," Rex texted back, leaving out the movie he was watching because he already knew Weevil was going to say something like "how many times do you have to watch that movie before your pea-sized dino-brain can remember the plot?"

"Can your dog catch it out of the air?" Weevil texted in response.

Reflectively, Rex looked down at his four-year-old Shiba Inu who was sleeping on the floor with his legs splayed. Could he catch it out of the air? That was a good question…

Rex leaned over to look into the kitchen from his seat on the couch. If his mom saw him giving people food to Pompom again, he was going to get in trouble. When he was sure her back was turned, he nudged Pompom with his foot and waved a piece of popcorn back and forth so the dog would see it when he finally opened his eyes.

Once Pompom saw it, he was immediately on his feet, tail waggling affectionately in hopes his good mood would make him deserving of food.

Rex tossed him a piece of popcorn, but it fit the floor before Pompom could snap at it. After verifying that the sound of Pompom's nails on the hardwood floors didn't alert his parents, Rex threw another piece of popcorn into the air, higher this time. Pompom missed it with his teeth, but quickly scurried over to where it lay next to the TV.

Undiscouraged, Rex threw another piece which Pompom almost caught.

"Okay, you have to catch it this time—it's your last chance," Rex said, tossing another piece. Pompom, closer than ever before to catching the treat, lunged into the air for it. The popcorn hit his nose and Rex felt his stomach tighten and his eyes go wide as the piece of food bounced into the kitchen. Pompom ran after it, but didn't catch it before the lady of the house caught him in the act.

"Rex! What have I told you about feeding Pompom our food!?" Her voice had reached its shrillest level in a matter of seconds. Usually it took more than one piece of popcorn to do that.

"S-sorry," Rex stammered. Pompom, having licked the floor clean of popcorn, scurried back to Rex for more.

"Don't. Do it. Again," his mother said firmly.

Rex started eating his popcorn on his own, trying to ignore the sad, dejected looks Pompom was giving him. Another couple of minutes went by before Weevil texted him again.

"Poofball can't do it can she?" Weevil asked. Rex felt his eye twitch in irritation, hearing Weevil's laugher in his head.

"It's Pompom! He's a boy!" Rex texted back.

"Who names a boy dog Pompom?"

"My mother."

"He still isn't smart enough to catch the popcorn."

"He is so!"

"Is not."

Growling, Rex took another piece of popcorn from the bowl and tossed it into the air. This time, Pompom lunged, opening his jaws to expose his mouth full of razor sharp teeth, and snapped down on the yellow fluff in midair.

"Ha! I knew he could do it!"

"Rex, what did I just tell you!"

At the sound of his mother's voice, Rex's feelings of pride immediately shriveled and died—replaced only by horror.

"Weevil said Pompom couldn't catch the popcorn. I just wanted to—"

"I don't care who put you up to it! I told you not to do it!" His mother was glaring at him from the kitchen doorway, hands on her hips. A few seconds later, his father appeared behind her and Rex's stomach twisted into knots.

"You're grounded," his father said, no expression on his face but disappointment.

"But I—"

"I don't want to hear it," his father interjected. "Your mother told you not to do it. It's time to put Pompom outside for the night anyway. Go hook him up."

"Aw, can't he stay inside tonight? He can sleep in my room," Rex said. He hated that his parents made him keep Pompom outside all night. Having a dog to steal the foot of his bed was part of the whole boy-and-his-dog routine.

"No. You know he starts howling at the crack of dawn and he sheds too much. I don't want his hair all over your bedding," his mother said. "Put him out and go to bed."

"But my movie's not over," Rex argued.

"I don't care! Put him out, take your shower, and go to bed!"

Rex sighed and got up from the couch. When he tried to text Weevil back before taking Pompom to the backyard, his mother snatched his phone away and pushed him toward the door.

Once poor Pompom was chained up outside by his dog house (brought from their old home since Pompom apparently didn't deserve new things), Rex went back inside where his phone was returned by his mother who was scowling at him.

"You ought to do something about your hair," she said, pushing his trademark red hat aside to pull at his lavender bangs. "The roots are growing in and you look ridiculous."

"I'm gonna do something," Rex muttered, fixing his hat.

"Good," his father said. "Your mom put some brown hair dye in the bathroom so you can fix it before school tomorrow before you get picked on by your new classmates."

"Brown?" Rex said, shaking his head. "No, I bought some more purple last night before the move. I'm gonna fix my hair—I'm going to dye the roots back."

"Oh no," his mother said, shaking her head and turning away from him. "I thought you were done with that."

"It's my signature!" Rex argued.

"One day you're gonna grow out of this crazy hair fad," his father said. "You're lucky I don't cut your hair off in your sleep." It would sound more threatening if his dad actually cared about how Rex looked. Once he realized Rex wasn't going to be his little sports star, he kind of quit trying to bond.

It wasn't really as sad as it sounded. His dad didn't hate him. Rex just got along better with his mom.

"Oh, don't make threats about his hair," his mother said, straightening Rex's hat and smoothing down his bangs. "I think it's…cute. All the kids are doing it these days."

Yup, just like Weevil always said—Rex was a bona fide momma's boy.