Yeah pretty quick to update this but I've caught the writing bug so even if updates aren't every day I am hoping to keep this going and update at least once a week if not more. I hope you guys like it even though I botched the publishing of the first chapter. I fixed it now anyway and its longer. I'm going for at least 1000 words a chapter so not huge but not short either. On with the story!

Chapter 2

Even though Daryl pushed the door open as quietly as humanly possible it didn't stop all eyes in the classroom being drawn to the door. Mr Walsh was a pit bull in a tracksuit with the voice and attitude of an army drill sergeant, whoever incurred his wrath was either very brave or very stupid. Either way it was very unfortunate. He took no bullshit from anyone especially a scrawny redneck like Daryl who was unlucky enough to be late on the first day back. Daryl started to slink to his seat as quickly as he could but Walsh was already starting a rant to the entire class about punctuality and Daryl was the victim of his stern glare and harsh words.

"Mr Dixon, so good of you to join us I assume you think the rules don't apply to you. Well I have news for you, redneck trash, if you are late once more in the next year you are gonna have hell to pay, and it won't just be from your daddy neither," the man finished in hush tones as he walked up and leaned in so close Daryl could feel his coffee laden breath on his neck as he said his piece.

His hands began to tremble and in a vain attempt to stop the onslaught of panic he sunk his teeth deep into his lower lip, dug his nails so hard into his palms that he felt blood trickle down his fingers. His eyes stared unfocused at the floor as his father's verbal abuse was ringing in his ears. He was transported back to the night before where that bloodstained belt flashed before his eyes, his back started to burn with the pain and knowledge of what he hid just under his shirt. He just had to get through the next 20 minutes then it would be over and he could breathe again before going to whatever lesson he had next. He hoped it was art he needed the quiet and peace holding a paintbrush gave him.

Daryl had been stuck in his head so deeply he hadn't noticed the new student strut in rather breathlessly and introduce himself. Paul 'call me Jesus' Rovia, sauntered (yes fucking sauntered because he is confident like that) to the only free seat in the room which just happened to be next to Daryl. As Jesus pulled his chair out the racket it made on the linoleum dragged Daryl out of the maelstrom his thoughts had become thanks to dickbag Walsh, as he started at the noise he got caught in the almost luminous blue eyes of the new guy and swiftly looked away trying to remember how to breathe all over again but for a completely different reason. Those eyes were all he could see now and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad. Today was turning out to be very strange and unsettling. Every time he blinked those eyes were all he could see. He shook his head and tried to concentrate on what was happening around him.

As soon as Jesus saw that generic black hoody and patch work jeans he felt the guilt he had been struggling with since he crashed into the poor guy triple. He really was sorry that he wasn't looking where he was going. The school layout was a maze and trying to find home room had been hard enough. Since the hallway debacle he'd been trying to figure out a way to make it up to the random student he'd collided with, after the prickly response to his help he was immediately intrigued by this strange boy, so quick to flinch and refuse any sort of help. After having studied the cliques in the hallway it seemed odd for any student to be completely alone, everyone had had at least one person to catch up with, even the loner kids had someone. But not this kid and Jesus was determined to give this guy at least one friend. And fuck it, he would befriend the weird kid if it was the last thing he ever achieved.

Walsh handed out the timetables and Jesus was tried to find the perfect way to make a good first impression or at least get a good look at his timetable. As luck would have it his new neighbour's timetable slipped to the floor in-between them. He lent over to pick it up at the same time as 'Daryl Dixon', which was apparently this lone wolfs name. Their fingers brushed for a millisecond. Daryl pulled away so fast it was like he'd just been burned. Weird that his reflexes would kick in from a simple brush of fingertips. Just as quickly as he'd moved away Daryl snatched the timetable up and before Jesus could shift his gaze from the floor Daryl had his eyes focused on his desk like the piece of paper was the most fascinating thing in the world. Meanwhile Jesus was trying to get a peek at Daryl's timetable to see if they had any classes together and it just so happened they both had art after home room today but that was it until after lunch so he'd have to make do.

They spent the rest of the lesson listening to Walsh drone on about some bullshit or another. Jesus was trying to get a better look at Daryl through his hood and Daryl was trying to ignore the feeling of Jesus' eyes gouging holes into the side of his skull. Just as Daryl was about to tell this freak to stop staring in a less than friendly manner the bell went signaling he was free. He had never shot out of a classroom so fast in his life leaving Paul to chase after him and try to avoid another hallway mishap lest he piss off any more students temperamental students.

He caught up with the elusive dick biscuit that was Daryl Dixon outside the art studio and took his chance to introduce himself properly. Making sure he was prepared for anything he jumped right in front and Daryl, put on his friendliest smile and stuck out his hand, "Hi I'm Paul Rovia but people call me Jesus." Was what he would have said if he had gotten more than half way through the sentence before Daryl barged past him into the classroom to take his seat and left him introducing himself to thin air. So much for making good first impressions right?