John/Dave Lockers, Music, Pain part 2

John slammed the door as hard as he could, looking at his empty room sadly. His desk didn't faze him; his computer had been gone for months, but the blank walls and bookshelves and chest and everything else was jarring. John didn't even know where it all was. He shoved his hands in his pockets while trudging into the middle of the room, kicking over a whirring fan along the way. It clattered to the floor, blowing cool air into the carpet.

This was going to be an impossibly long summer stuck in his room.

Groaning, John flopped face first onto his bed, trying to think of how to get out of this.

His dad was pissed when he showed up at school the day after he had gone home with Dave. John had spent a portion of the night explaining to Dave that they would have to appear as just 'bros' at school, or his Dad would surely find out. Thirty seconds after getting to school however, they were already pressed against John's locker, tongues entwined.

John's locker also happened to be the first place his dad looked for him.

Dave had been wrenched off of him, John leaning shocked against the metal door. The swelling in his eye had gone down, but he was a wreck none the less. His father's pale face was the reddest he'd ever seen it, and he had demanded that both John and Dave follow him to his office.

John remembered the giggles they got as he plodded down the hallway after him, his ankle not the only thing causing him to limp.

He had first explained to them how wrong and inappropriate it was to be kissing in the hallway, especially for two boys. After this twenty minute spiel, he excused Dave, who pecked John on the cheek as he left. The darker haired boy's face went bright red, and he smiled nervously back at his father.

Then all hell broke loose.

For the next hour he was screamed at by his father. Ditching, staying with strangers, being gay, irresponsibility. But mostly being gay. How wrong it was and how humans weren't made for it and how he wanted grandchildren that were actually related to him. On and on and on he talked, never once letting John explain. After an hour and a half he shut up, handing John a note and telling him to get his sorry ass back to class.

That day was the day he had gotten his computer and movie privileges revoked. He slowly got used to it, the feeling of detachment from everything he was used to. The rest of the year dragged on, he and Dave hiding out under the stairs during lunch, seeing as Dave was another "privilege" he got taken away. John was devastated at first, in a quiet stupor only the blonde could draw him out of.

A week before class ended, Dave had managed to sneak him out one night to go to the movies. They had escaped just fine, leaving a very believable lump of pillows on the bed, making sure the window was just as they'd left it, even making sure there were no footprints in the lawn. Once out of ear and eyeshot of the house, they ran to the theater, laughing and shouting. John grinned as Dave bought them two tickets to a 1 am showing of Armageddon, dragging him inside.

The night had passed without a hitch, John safely back in bed and Dave long gone. John didn't sleep at all that night; adrenaline mixed with one too many Pepsis keeping him wide awake. Just to be safe, he rose a few minutes after his alarm as usual, and acted his groggy morning self. His father seemed fooled, and they had gotten off scot free.

At least that's what he thought. He had come home on the last day of school to find his room as it was now. He remembered it like it was yesterday, mostly because it was. His dad had found out about the movie, and poof! There went John's entire life.

John rolled over, staring at the ceiling. He had left John's drawings there, seeing as they weren't of anything in particular. One of a horse, another of a rose, one off a pretty mountain landscape. He sat up onto his knees, tearing each one carefully down. On the back of each was a note from Dave, the actual artist behind the pictures.

The rose was the first message, a little surprise in his locker one morning.

"Roses are red,

Violets aren't blue,

Whoever wrote that was an idiot,

But I love you."

John laughed, turning the picture of the landscape over.

"There once was a bro called Dave,

And a derp called John that he craved

So they escaped in the night

To go watch a sight

And generally misbehave."

He found this one the day they snuck out to see the movie. He flipped the horse over, still not understanding the meaning of the note he'd received yesterday.

"Dear John. I'll make sure to find a way to see you this summer, even if it means doing something completely stupid and dangerous. Bro and I are heading back to Texas for two weeks to pick up more of our crap from the old apartment. Until then, stare at this mustang until you see two. Helps if you hold it up to a window. Love you. ~Dave"

John stared at the one line of text stretched out across the page for a moment before dragging himself over to the window, flipping back to the horse. He pressed the paper against the glass, letting the sun filter through. The bolded letters showed through, and he looked at them confused.

" ."

"Pack a bag?" he mumbled, making sure he didn't miss a letter. Something moved behind the paper, pulling up into the driveway. He glanced down, sure his dad couldn't be back from the store already. Instead of his dad's car, however, was a shiny red mustang, two young men in shades waving from the window. John stared back for a minute before realizing what was going on, stuffing a sweatshirt with a few sets of clothes. He bolted out of his room, scribbling a note to his dad as he climbed out the kitchen window.

A/N: WELP, here's part two! I never meant to turn this into a three/four part fic, but I did. OOPS. Oh well. I'll see how much I can cram into one more chapter. Please tell me what you think! Your amazing responses to the last chapter really helped me write this quickly. ^^ ILY ALL.