Disclaimer: I don't make money or any jazz of this, it's purely fan-made and for the love of all things good Bully is owned by Rockstar Games.
A/N: This is my original work, but under a different title and pen name.
Warning: Male/Male attractions and scenes involving intimate moments.
I hope you enjoy this and the others as well.
Also, even though this series has multiple couples, Tad and Ricky are the main focus.
Prologue/Chapter1
Depths upon depths upon depths upon depths upon depths churned for release. The heart of a beating adolescent male's pain was unbearable as the inflicted scars were deeply wounded. His tears, described as dozens of blood cells gushing out into a monstrous pool of unnacceptance and loneliness; Were by far the only substance of release he's ever known. The only thing he's recognized as a familiar spirit of content. The only demanding opponent he could and would always submit to... The key ingredient to where he felt numb inside.
Endlessly tormented by both his predecessor and the mingling demons, they whispered thoughts of self-slaughter. At first he thought himself mad for thinking such a thing, but as days passed and pain increased the thought became an easier solution to his hell on earth. Often recollection of painful memories and insecurities liberated through every single limb he possessed, the slight joint spasms would conjure up into a full session of unwanted anguish and his screams of horrific affliction upon his body was finally enough to drive him to a drastic decision; And that decision was to end his life...quickly and painlessly.
Locks of auburn hair wafted through the wind as this figure stood on the ledge of the pier in Old Bullworth Vale. A bloodied white long-sleeved button down shirt blanketed his overly scarred torso, visibly tattered and wrinkled; Symbolizing the events of trying to evade certain punishments. Punishments he wished to be relieved from and wished in the afterlife, it was better. Or even if there wasn't an afterlife, at least he wouldn't be in this predicament any longer. Living had become more of an effort than a wanting. It had become something that he had to do for others and not of himself. He didn't wish to be selfish...but...sacrifices must be made. The very fibre of his being was telling him not to do it, he was leaving behind the only being who cared enough for him; His older brother. Yet, the mingling demons kept influencing him and eventually reached that scale of not being able to take the abuse any longer.
It had already been fifteen minutes since he's taken prescription sleeping pills because of his insomnia. He chuckled softly at how lucky he was to have this sort of ailment, and easily restore what he's lost. Not like these are easy to get in the first place, unless you're a druggie like half of New Coventry was, he thought, as he felt the pills begin to take its toll.
This was it...the moment he's been waiting for. His eyes began to get heavy, his vision disorienting, his body beginning to grow limp; Rocking back and forth. "Goodbye Daniel." He said, almost like a whisper before falling into the water defenseless, vulnerable, lifeless, and cemented.
...
The cold autumn weather was perfect for this broken-hearted greaser, as he walked along the beach of Old Bullworth Vale. He was glad he was alone, so he could wade in his despair of what he's lost and never could gain again. His black jacket wafted through the wind, as he lit a cigarette; that was once behind his ear and intook its poison into his mouth. "Ah, just what I needed." He said with his Philadelphian accent.
That day... that day he replayed those moments repetitively, remembering it like it was yesterday. It practically birthed its existence in his brain and left a nuke in his cerebellum; awaiting to explode one day. Causing a now present down depression feeling on this day in time.
She stomped her way into the greasers territory when Ricky was left alone. How she knew he was alone? Ricky, nor anyone will ever know. His forehead flourished with sweat, his white beater darkened from wiping the contents from the car onto it, his six-pack rippled and exhibited itself from the tight shirt, and occasional moans from sitting back up eluded his full luscious lips. She endlessly complained about how his bike was getting more attention than she was. That he named his bike and acted like it was real, but all she saw was metal, rubber and a seat, accompanied with red paint; a real piece of work. He desperately tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't have it and said her last words before disappearing from his life. Talk about a literal heart 'beating' right there.
It had to have been, three years and six days right? Ricky sighed sadly, and soon found his cigarette die out and become to ash between his fingers, falling onto the sandy beach.
"Goodbye Daniel." a voice spoke, making Ricky alert into a kung fu fighting stance. Like he knew how to fight in that style. What and who in the world was that? He whipped his body around to see if anyone was there, but saw nothing. That's when he heard a large splash of water and jumped up, hurrying to where the ripples came from. He looked all around but saw, once again nothing... But a dark redness in the water caught his eye from the moon shining it's light, like it was trying to give him a clue on what he had heard.
He decided to let his curiosity get the better of him, and unclothed his jacket, blue muscle shirt, his bottoms to where he was wearing his boxers, his socks, and his shoes. Barefooted, he walked into the river and swam towards where the moon laid its reflection. Roaming narrowing eyes tried to look from the surface to see what it was that fell into the water, but saw nothing of the sort. Taking a deep breath, he submerged under the water, and was glad the moon's reflection was in the water. For what he found was shocking...A corpse. But, the corpse's face was extremely red...? Wouldn't corpses be purple? Unless this guy was forced into the water and what his Biology teacher was talking about was actually true; Breathing patterns.
"A respiratory control center at the base of your brain controls your breathing. This center sends ongoing signals down your spine and to the muscles involved in breathing. So sensors in the brain and in two major blood vessels, the carotid artery and the aorta detect carbon dioxide or oxygen levels in your blood and change your breathing rate as needed.". Dr. Slawter explained.
So that means, this guy was still alive, and the carotid artery and aorta made the brain detect danger. His body reacted as positive as it could get and was to trying to hold on for dear life. At least that's how he retained the information. Who knew actually listening to those boring long lessons in school could actually pay off? Hm. Interesting he thought, before realizing he should save the poor guy. Swimming deeper underneath the pier he wrapped one arm around the guy's waist, and the other around his shoulder. Then pushing with all of his might, he launched himself up above the surface, gasping a little from holding his breath longer than intended.
Finally reaching the sandy beach he laid the poor guy on his back, shocked from what he was seeing. His face was covered in bruises that needed ice, wounds that were pretty deep but looked like the cold icy water of autumn clotted the blood, leaving nasty looking scars along his body. It got even worse when he ripped open the guy's shirt, his torso practically painted in scars. "What the heck happened to this guy?"
He then shook his head and remembered that he had to do CPR on him, but hesitated for a short time. It wasn't that he hasn't done this sort of thing before, it was just, he's never done it with...another dude. Other than Hal's cousin Chico. But he counted him as family, so it didn't bother him. Sigh. The things life make him resort to.
Vanilla slender finger tips lifted up the auburn headed male's chin, gently with one hand, while pushing down on the forehead with the other to tilt the head back. Once the airway was opened, he checked to see if he was still breathing and took five to ten seconds to verify normal breathing. Sadly, he didn't and proceeded quickly to save this guy. Kneeling beside the lifeless auburn male, he did the best he could for at least a half an hour but still didn't receive positive results. His determination motivated him to keep pressing onward, and continued his "push hard and fast" session upon the sternum about a third to a half the depth of the chest.
Thus, a miracle happened when his full lips made contact with small warm ones. Golden ambers abruptly widened and pushed the greaser off of him as he was coughing up both water and blood. A slight nausea beginning to make hibernation in his stomach.
"I didn't know I kissed that bad." Ricky mentioned playfully, beginning to re-clothe himself.
"Excuse me!..." Cough. Cough. Cough. "How dare you lay a hand on me?!" Tad shouted, trying to stand up but could only feel his body be extremely groggy. The sleeping pills were still at work, and by doggone stupid he was finding it harder to keep up with what was happening. The first question that seeped into his mind was, why was this greaser here? He could've sworn he was here alone. He made sure no one was following him or knew of his departure from the Spencer property. Or at least he thought he did.
"No need to get all fired up," Ricky dusted off his clothing. "and for the record, I just saved your life."
"Saved...my...life?" Tad puzzledly answered, and realized what had happened. Stupid greaser! I had it all planned out! Now I have to wait another three months before getting these prescription pills! Ugh! "You stupid greaseball idiot! Do you know what you've done!" Tad yelled, suddenly having the energy to stand up and grip Ricky's collar to pull him down towards his profile.
"What the heck? You're a trust fund fairy!" Ricky replied, filling with anger as he pushed the prep off of him.
Tad tumbled onto his bum as he looked up into dangerous, mildly raged filled browns and downcast his gaze to the ground. "Just kill me already." He said, hoping he would. Besides, don't the greasers hate the preps? It was a perfect opportunity that he couldn't pass up.
Ricky's anger flurried away at hearing those words coming from the preps mouth and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "I might hate you preps, but not enough to kill you. Why? You think I don't have a heart?"
Tad couldn't help the tears streaming down his face. He felt so weak...so embarrassed by this he couldn't help but cry. It was so disgusting he had to cry in front of a greaser, but to be saved by one of them was humiliating. All he's ever known was crying. Why couldn't it have been someone he didn't know? Why couldn't he have been left alone? Though, the tears came more from the pain he'd have to endure for three more months than anything. "Just do it!" He cried out, his body shaking, his fists clenching the sand in his hands, and the rocking back and forth of his body.
Ricky was stunned at what he was witnessing. With his own eyes, he saw a preppy...crying? No way, he had to be dreaming. At first, he wanted to make this guy a spectacle in front of all of Bullworth, but his conscience got in the way. Man, just when he wanted to get those preppies back. Massaging his temples, he knew he would be considered "not human" for doing this sort of thing, even if his buddies did pat him on the back. Rolling his eyes, he kneeled in front of the stupid preppie and offered him his favourite handkerchief.
Tad swatted his hand away at first but soon found himself taking it once looking at those sexy, aggressive, looking Latino eyes...Wait, did he just think this greaser's eyes were sexy? They are nothing of a sort! How dare he think that way towards a useless, poor pauper! More or less a grease monkey! His thoughts were then interrupted to find himself in a bridal style carrying position. "Huh?"
Ricky sighed, and began his walk home to New Coventry; Well the bus stop first, then his apartment.
"Put me down this instant!" Tad shouted, wriggling his muscles, trying to get free from this grease pauper's clutches.
"Shut up."
"I will no-!" Tad answered, feeling his body grow limp from the stare the greaser gave him. The arrogant prep simply laid his head against Ricky's broad chest. "I'm using your chest as a head relaxer...I have a headache, that's all so don't get any funny ideas."
Ricky never answered, and continued up the slope of stairs, on to New Coventry. His gaze turned to his watch for a quick few seconds that read: 10:50 pm. Shoot she's gonna kill me.
