Hello people and welcome back, I know that apparently this chapter was well waited for. I'm sorry it took so long to write, I had a serous case of "Im too lazy to do anything" along with writer's block. Just so you know, I am aware that this chapter is slightly boring, but I swear that things start getting interesting next chapter. In this part, we get a little of Danny's and Kwan's perspectives, and we'll get more of them in coming chapter. I should be faster at updating now, again, Im sorry this took so long.

Now, please enjoy


Thursday, 7:53 AM

Dash lay awake in his bed, knowing that if he were going to school, he would have to get up and dress quickly to avoid being late. But Dash wouldn't be leaving that house at all that day, if he could help it. Bruises from his father's attack three days before still littered his body, some remaining purple while others had begun to change into a brown-yellow colour. And if that wasn't bad enough, one of these bruises covered his left cheekbone. No way could Dash go to school like that. To make matters even worse, if that was possible, a huge mark was covering the right side of Dash's abdomen, causing pain whenever he so much as breathed, let alone moved. He had spent the past three days almost exclusively in his bedroom, only leaving to use bathroom across the hall or grab food from the kitchen. Even the slightest movement or fiber brushing against his bruise caused his eyes to water. Dash wasn't an idiot, and he knew that it was more than a bruise.

Suddenly, Dash's cell phone vibrated, signifying that a text had come through. Dash sighed; he knew who it was from and what the message would contain. His suspicions were confirmed when he opened his inbox: the text message was from Kwan. Dash had been steadily ignoring his best friend as of late.

Kwan: u coming to school today?

Dash was considering the pros and cons of replying to the message when his phone buzzed in his hands again.

Kwan: stop ignoring me

Dash sighed: he knew that if he didn't reply, Kwan would be likely to call either him or 911. Careful not to move too much, he took a moment to come up with a plausible lie before replying.

Dash: sorry dude cant come today, been sick 4 a while. im just gonna spend the day sleeping but ill be back monday im sure so no biggie

He knew that Kwan wouldn't believe him, but there wasn't really anything that he could do about it: after all, Kwan had no proof that Dash was anything but sick. Again, Dash's phone vibrated.

Kwan: enough with the lies man

Dash sighed and wished that he could tell him everything, but instead typed out his next message firmly.

Dash: not lying, sick. lots of throwing up i promise. sorry i cant make it but im sure u can survive just 1 day w/o me

He was slightly satisfied with his lie. It sounded perfectly believable, and even kind of casual. He was certain that the next text would be his friend reluctantly accepting his absence.

It wasn't.

Kwan: ok PLS tell me u didn't forget

Dash didn't reply.

Kwan: dash i get u need ur space but 3 words dude! football. championship. TONIGHT!

Dash cursed. It had completely slipped his mind that the football championship was that night, and the team had a mandatory practice right after school. Dash was the star player, and he knew that if he didn't go and the team lost, it would be his fault.

Dash: crap. ok fine ill be there but late. whats 1st period again? sorry fuzzy head

Kwan's reply came in just seconds.

Kwan: english

That was the end of the conversation. If he could get away with it, Dash would have just done what he had been doing all week – call the school pretending to be his father and excuse his own absence – and then just show up at practice after school. Too bad for him, school rules dictated that if anybody is absent the day of an event, excused or not, they are not allowed to participate in the event. Meaning, if somebody's too sick to go to school, they're too sick to play football. This sadly meant that Dash would have to suck it up and go to school, no matter how much it pained him to do so.

Slowly, Dash sat up. He had to bite his lip in order to keep a cry of pain from escaping. He didn't know how he was going to play with so much agony exploding from his side. He was considering throwing in the towel and going back to bed when an idea struck him. Dash's father had been in a car accident a few years earlier and still suffered the occasional ache or two from it. There were pain killers in his bathroom. Dash stood and limped his way towards his dad's bedroom.

The room was painted a light brown. Clothing and empty bottles were scattered carelessly across the floor. The smell of liquor and dirty laundry permeated the stale air. Dash did his best not to step on anything – it was like an obstacle course, only with higher stakes. Stepping on a piece of glass could cut open his foot and give him an infection, and the last thing Dash needed right now was another injury. When he finally reached his father's bathroom, after a fair amount of maneuvering through various sharp objects, he was disappointed to find that it, too, was littered with dangerous trash.

Temporarily ignoring his aching side, Dash moved straight for the medicine cabinet and opened it. Countless bottles of pills fell out and into the sink. Most of them were prescriptions that had never been used: according to Dash's father, "alcohol is the best pain killer there is."

Dash was searching for a specific bottle, one that he knew was strong enough to help him out because he'd used it before, but it wasn't there. Dash sighed heavily: he'd have to settle for something else. At last, Dash picked up a plain bottle of Aleve, which was powerful enough to numb the pain but nowhere near able to take it away. He then piled the bottles back into the cabinet and closed the door. Before he left the room, though, he managed to accidentally catch his reflection in the mirror.

Dash wasn't one to care much about his appearance, but he looked… well, he looked awful. He had large purple bags underneath his bloodshot eyes. His face was pale from the constant pain he felt from even breathing. The bruise on his face had turned to a nasty shade of purplish gray. With a sigh, Dash took the pain killers without water, as he had been doing since he was just a little kid. Then he returned to his room to get dressed.

Dash walked through the doors of Casper High exactly forty minutes later, at 8:50 on the dot. 'Only twenty minutes late, pretty good,' Dash thought to himself, despite the fact that he only lived ten minutes away. After all, it had been a long morning. He'd missed the bus, obviously, and the walk over to school had been excruciating.

Quickly, Dash grabbed a late slip from the front office and moved as fast as he could to English.


Lancer didn't look at all thrilled when Dash walked into English twenty minutes late with a bruise on his face. When asked what happened, Dash merrily shrugged and said "Bar fight," before sitting down next to Kwan. A few people giggled at his excuse, knowing there was no way he was old enough to get into a bar, but nobody pressed it. He was an A-lister, after all.

Danny sat across the room next to Sam and Tucker. Dash didn't so much as glance at the trio as he sat down.

"How do you think he really got that?" Tucker wondered aloud.

"Probably got punched by a six year old girl," Sam replied. Danny stayed quiet, as he normally did during school.

"Sounds about right," Tucker replied. "The guy thinks he's all that just because he's the star football player. I wish he'd get injured out on that field so he can't play anymore." Tucker's tone was spiteful.

"Shut up, Tucker,


" Danny finally said. Tucker opened his mouth to speak, but Danny cut him off. "I know you were just joking, but what if Desiree was flying around? We'd all be doomed."

Sam made a sound that could have been laughing. "Slow down, Danny, you almost sound like you care about him. Dash deserves anything bad that comes his way."

"Not denying that," Danny agreed, "but no saying the word 'wish' in sentences that could end with somebody getting hurt. I'm not having that on my hands." Sam and Tucker both nodded in agreement.

"Mr. Fenton," a voice called from the front of the room: of course, it was Lancer. "I'm sorry to interrupt your little talk show going on back there, but would you please do us the honor of reading the next sentence?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Uh, yeah," Danny said before turning to Sam. "Where are we?"

"I can tell you young Romeo," she recited.

"Now Mr. Fenton" Lancer said impatiently.

Danny nodded to Sam and read the next line of Romeo and Juliet "I can tell you; but young Romeo will be older…"


Kwan wasn't paying attention to the reading, nor to Danny Fenton's slight embarrassment. His eyes were focused on Dash; more specifically, on the ugly bruise that rested on his check.

"It's fine, Kwan," Dash grumbled, uncomfortable under his friend's stare.

"A bar fight? Really, Dash? Even you can do better than that," Kwan said, trying to mask the worry in his tone with a light, teasing one. In reality, Kwan had been expecting Dash to show up with bruises: why else would he be absent from school that week? Yeah, Dash often came to school with bruises, and yeah, he often had funny little excuses for them, but very rarely were his injuries as bad as the bruise on his face was. Kwan wasn't stupid; he knew that the bruise covering his best friend's face wasn't the only one that had been inflicted. He just hoped that there wasn't too much damage done under his clothes.

Dash had been through enough and Kwan would do anything to protect him. Regardless, there were times when he didn't know how to help his closest and longest friend. There were times where Kwan sat staring out his bedroom window, or at a book in class; times where he wondered if keeping Dash's secret really was keeping him safe. By keeping it, Dash was being hurt, but by telling, Dash could be hurt more. It was a conflicting feeling. Looking at the bruise on Dash's face didn't really help.

'Five minutes' Kwan reminded himself. 'It takes five minutes for the cops to show up at Dash's house. It would only take three for his dad to kill him.' That was the only thought that kept Kwan from standing up right there and telling Lancer what was going on. 'Five minutes, it only takes three. Five minutes, it only takes three.' Kwan kept repeating those words over and over until he felt as if he would burst. At last he gave up and put up his hand.

"Yes Kwan?" Lancer asked him "Would you like to read the next line?"

"No, thanks," Kwan informed his teacher, "Can I go to the bathroom?" Lancer nodded and Kwan practically ran from the room.


Hope you liked it, as per usually, let me know what you think in the reviews, or what you think should happen, I may, or may not, include your input in the story line. Let me know if you spot any spelling and/or grammar mistakes and I'll make sure I get them fixed ASAP, although there shouldn't be very many. As I do in every chapter, special thanks to my amazing beta reader sunnywinterclouds and also a big thank you to hollyflash (known as currently-lurking on tumblr) for helping me come up with this plot. Have a nice day! (Or other appropriate time if it is not day for you)