Your name is Dirk Strider and it sucked being a total and utter nobody. But it wasn't like there was a course on 'how to be popular in a week or less'. You'd join it for completely ironic purposes, obviously. The fact that wasn't at all helpful was your idiot brother, Dave, had been caught making out with his boyfriend in a bathroom stall. Which just so happened to be in the middle of fucking Texas. Yes, the Bible-worshipping one. So now all these little brainwashed kids were all over you as if they were doctors and you had just contracted some god awful disease. You were straight; so straight that a stripper could dance his- her! Her little ass off. So totally straight.
Currently, your orange, yes orange it's not that weird, eyes were scanning the non-air conditioned classroom from your spot all the way in the back. You ran a pale hand through even paler hair as teacher, what's-her-name-something-with-an-l-and-obsessed-with-cats, droned on and on about some war where cats were used as messengers and something's telling you that's bullshit.
When the bell finally rang after 30 terribly long minutes had passed, you attempted to get the fuck out of there because there was no way in hell you were staying in there longer than required. Apparently though, life had it out for you because right when you turned around, you got a face full of green fabric. Biting back several swears, your eyes shifted upwards to look at the quickly apologizing figure.
Holy fuck he was tall.
"Sorry chap." He said with a slight tilt of the head. What kind of a fucking accent was that? English, definitely, Australian maybe? The brightest green eyes you had ever seen peered down at you through un-brushed brown hair, silently goading you to reply. So you did, by nodding your head. Well it's not like you had ever said you were good at communicating. Without another minute passing you slid past him and into the crowded hallways.
Keeping silent, you walked to your locker and attempted to open it without messing up on the combination. Once you did, you rested your head on the cool metal, not even bothering to put away or get out any books. That is, until a hand landed on your left shoulder. You spun around to find the bright pink eyes of your only (and therefore best) friend, Roxy Lalonde.
"Hey Dirky…" The semi-sober girl slurred, winking a makeup coated eye. A small smirk worked its way onto your placid face, causing her to burst into laughter as if you had said something hilarious and reached up to poke your cheeks. You pushed the hand away.
"Yeah, don't touch me." You murmured as your back turned to her. Quickly, you grabbed a mountain of books and nearly tumbled under its weight but Striders don't fall. Nope, they certainly don't do that. You slowly closed the locker before turning around again to face Roxy. She beamed up at you, eyes bright as she began dragging you down the crowded hall.
By the time you got to the class, the rather loud and annoying bell rang out, marking the two of you late. You groaned quietly under your breath as Ms. Serket all but spit at you before directing you to get in your seats. You carefully pulled your phone from its hiding place in your back pocket to see 10 bright red messages flashing on the digital screen.
TG: dude
TG: have you seen egbert
TG: cmon answer me
TG: are you two fucking pranking me
TG: i cant find him
TG: fuck fuck fuck
TG: answer me already
TG: shit
TG: shit dude im freaking out
TG: fuck cmon cmon cmon
You sighed and stuffed the device back into your pocket, ignoring any other vibrations. The kid was probably, no most likely, just sick. When Dave burst into your classroom, you were prepared to punch him in the face. Given another look, his dark shades were shoved on the top of his head, red eyes wild and exposed. Once again ignoring the rest of the classes' stares and Serkets piercing voice, he marched right over to you, grabbing your arm and dragging you out into the hallway. Without the distraction of the loud room, you carefully searched his face before attempting to pull your arm away from your younger bros iron grip.
"He's fine." You assured, only receiving a quick headshake in response. "You know how John gets sometimes, he probably didn't want to come today."
Dave began rapidly signing a response before he caught himself and starting to speak. "He would have texted, c-came over. H-his dad d…doesn't know where he is…where he went. Said he left i-in the morning." He hiccupped and ran a shaking hand through his white-blond hair. This led you to gently move an arm around his shaking body, discomfort filling what was supposed to be comforting. Okay, you didn't hug people, ever and holy shit it was quite obvious. This nervously put together embrace broke apart as the same weird accented dude from earlier came bounding, yes bounding, up to you.
"Uhm, if it wouldn't be too troubling," there was that fucking accent again, "could one of you kindly direct me to the main office, or somewhere I could place a call?" By the time you had opened your mouth, Dave had already resumed gripping your arm and proceeding to drag you down the tile and metal halls. As you looked back, the boy was already becoming a blurry, dark smudge, although you suspected that his eyebrow was still raised in question.
You allowed your brother to drag you to the heavy wooden doors, watching him as the final obstacle loomed over your blond heads. Once again, you attempted to pull your arm back, and as expected, he tightened his fucking grip. God damn he was strong when he wanted to be. You leveled yet another Strider glare at him, noticing then that he was actively ignoring you. Little shit.
Quickly, he pushed open the door and slipped out of the brick school building; you (of course) were following close behind. Silent tears trickled down his stoic face, slowly moving from under his aviators. He called out his boyfriends name multiple times, each increasing in volume. Brief moments passed until you picked up on short, ragged breaths coming from behind you. Gently, you set your hand on Dave's arm, flicking your head towards the dumpsters. He quickly rushed over to the large box in question, hands frantically trying to move it out of the way. You, in turn, stepped beside your panicking bro and started pushing it forward.
"What the fuck are you doing?! John could…he could be…" He trailed off to level a glare at you with darkened red eyes. Instead of responding properly, you continued to push the dumpster until it was a sufficient distance away from the small shaking boy hidden behind it. Like the suave motherfucker you were, you pointed at him and stepped back just as Dave sprinted the short distance between himself and the bloodied boy, instantly pulling him up in your arms. "John?"
Dull blue eyes turned upwards to look at his boyfriend, a weak grin already forming on his pale, pale face.
