-sniffle- So, I'm sick. I'm probably coming down with a cold and I don't feel good at all. But, I finished the chapter last night when I felt more-or-less like shit, and I knew I had to upload it today or else I would never forgive myself. And I know this chapter sucks, but still- wouldn't forgive myself.

Look at me, dedicated. Ahaha.

Oh an other note, I would PERSONALLY like to thank Spazz Kadet (my editor, best friend and brofriend) for spell checking the chapter because I always miss mistakes C: Thank yooooou :D

Thank you amaya-nights rain, Bucketswag, LostMySightToLight, anon, Ritnou, LAVEN-YULLEN, Hi Kitsune and candypaper for reviewing, and the countless others who have favorited! To answer a few questions asked, yes, you can hug me forever and love me forever, and yes, there will be other couples beside Dave/John. Those will be revealed in all due time, dear readers.

Enjoy this chapter. I need sleep and food.

Disclaimer: Andrew Hussie owns the damn comic- I own the jock, however. BWHAHAHA.

Labeled

Chapter Three: Let Mercy Come

"Oh, um…"

He trailed off, biting his lower lip in worry, blue eyes watching the shades in front of him tentatively, unable to catch emotions and thoughts but seeing a faint glimpse of color. He swallowed down as the blonde just watched him, not in the stance to just push him out of the way, but not about to make the move to really revive the memories of him acting like the Knight in shining armor, even if he figured they were coming back despite what he wanted. The blonde was about to say something when there was a commotion, and a few jocks came walking to them. He instinctively ducked behind the taller blonde as they approached, mind reeling and panicking all at once, but calming a bit when he realized just who he was ducking behind.

'Looks like you're gonna be playing the knight in shining armor again…'

"Move to the side, Strider," one of the taller athletes said, staring eye-level with the blonde, brown eyes narrowed dangerously, casting sideways glances behind him at the black-haired teen. "This is between us and the derp."

The blonde tilted his head, and for a moment his heart froze up- he wasn't about to just step aside was he? "Did you dumbasses learn 'pick on someone your own size' when you were growing up?" he said, smoothly and calmly, hands in his pockets and face forward. He relaxed a bit. "And I don't even see a derp around here, except for you and your friends."

"You shit," the jock growled, stepping forward, right in his face, a few inches taller than him. The blonde didn't even flinch. "You have no room to talk about who's what, you freak. Maybe when you get some goddamn normal eyes instead of those hideous-"

He didn't even get to finish his sentence, finish the thought he had before the blonde's fist came right in contact with the jock's jawline, and the football player stumbled back, holding his mouth as the blonde stood straight, not a shred of emotion on his face.

"Shut the fuck up."

'Normal eyes?'

The air was still for a moment, no one moving, no one even taking a breath before the blonde was being grabbed by his shirt collar and dragged away from him. The jock pulled him up, his feet barely touching the ground, a murderous look on his face. "Listen, you ass, playing hero isn't going to get you anywhere."

"I ain't playing hero," the blonde growled, pushing the jock back. "I'm just trying to show you that you're a complete and total dumbass for picking on that kid, who's like, what, ten times smaller and probably three years younger?"

'I'm a sophomore, thank you.'

"And you're protecting him, like you have every right in the fuckin' world to," the jock snapped. "You're trash,and jumping to help some kid isn't going to change a motherfucking thing because you'll wake up every morning and look right into the mirror an-"

He lunged again, fist making even more contact with his jaw, popping across his nose and pulled back with such a straight face, but anger and frustration and hatred poured off him. "I told you. Shut the fuck up."

"You want a fight, Strider?" the football player snapped, wiping blood from his nose and glaring at the blonde. "You fucking have on-"

"What is going on here?"

Both students looked to the hallway as the principal walked up, straight faced with her arms crossed over her chest, looking from the jock, to the blonde, then finally to him, and he cowered away, blue eyes wide. "I'll repeat- what is going on here?"

"He punched me," the football player instantly said, nose still dripping blood onto the white tile floor, brown eyes snapping to the cool kid. "Right in the face."

"He provoked me, and was threatening him," the blonde said, motioning toward the black-haired teen.

The football player turned model student, and he fought back the urge to punch him himself. "No, Miss Otto, I didn't provoke him in anyway, and I never said a word to him, either." He glared over at the jock, who saw his look and mirrored with an "ace-student" smile. "He punched me without reason."

The Principal- Ms. Otto- turned to the blonde and him and shook her head. "Strider. My office, now."

In retrospect, it hadn't been a bad idea, sticking up for that kid again, and that jerk (Matt? Max? Some douche bag from varsity football?) had most definitely deserved that grade-A Strider punch, but ending up in Ms. Otto's office for the tenth time since school had started in August was barely worth it. The woman was obsessed with the number eight and the color green and her office freaked him out, even if he had grown up with Lil Cal. So, for his feet to hit the white-tiled floor of the hallway again felt like a huge weight had fallen off his shoulders and he breathed in relief.

"Um…"

He turned, a bit caught off guard, but relaxed when he saw those blue eyes looking back up at him, and his heart stopped for a good second.

What.

"I… uh, don't mean to bother you, but…" the black haired teen trailed off, twisting his hands around in anxiety and nerves, focusing his eyes at his feet rather than Dave's shades, and he could see a nervous blush rising to his cheeks. "But I just wanted to say thank you… For, you know… standing up for me like that… And, um, rescuing me last night, haha…" He ran a hand on the back of his neck, eyes lifted, but at the wall off to his right. "I'm sorry… Jeez, I'm embarrassing and I'm probably ruining your cool or something. Someone like you probably doesn't ever want to be caught with someone as nerdy as me."

'What-'

Dave was caught off guard for a second- someone like him? The kid didn't even know what was waiting under the shades, or on his wrist hidden under his red and gray hoodie. He stared at the black-haired teen like the world was ending in those blue eyes, glad the shades blocked his stare and just… boggled. Someone was actually putting themselves steps lower than him? "Don't mention it," he said, keeping his mouth straight, but his eyes where wide and his mind reeling.

Someone thought he was… better.

"Oh, well… I'm John…" He smiled a bit, revealing buck teeth and shined white, and damn did he have a nice smile. He offered his hand out a little, probably an old custom his dad broke him into while he was growing up. On normal circumstances, Dave would have never accepted a handshake from just anyone, but the way the kid had adverted his eyes like looking at Dave would cause him to melt was just too interesting for him to leave him hanging.

"Dave," he said, taking John's hand, almost jumping when a shock ran through his body, and- judging by the look on John's face- he felt it too. Their eyes met for a moment, blue wide and confused, Dave's hidden, but reflecting the same thing before they pulled away quickly, John going back to twisting his hands awkwardly, and Dave put his in his hoodie's pocket. "Where's your next class? I could walk you there- nobody really fucks with me."

'What in the world are you doing?'

"Oh, I have, uh… Physics next… If it's out of your way, you really don't have to…" John said, obviously recovered from the handshake.

Dave shook his head, sweeping his bangs back to the side after. "It's right on the way, actually- I have Graphic Design right down the hall."

The black haired kid perked up and smiled again, wide and shamelessly keen to showing emotion, which was so incredibly odd- all he had ever known was a constantly yelling, angry best friend and a girl who put on a smile but never meant it. John was all smiles and meant it, and it was the most sincere thing that he had ever seen. And he had to remind himself that he was being executed in a month, and that he shouldn't be getting attached, but there was something in those blue eyes, in that smile, that fascinated him, at the same time made him anxious. "Oh, really? I wonder if we have any classes together."

After a moment, John dug his schedule out of his hand, passing it over to Dave and standing patiently as he read it over. "Just Tech Theatre." He handed it back to him, watching his face turn confused. "I skip that class- too many assholes. I prefer not to deal with that…" John's eyes grew sad. "Maybe I'll come to the class tomorrow."

He brightened up considerably, looking up at Dave with wide eyes just as the bell rang. "Oh, we should go. Don't want to be late, hehe."

Dave followed behind the bouncing black haired teen and forcibly told himself to calm the racing heart and flipping stomach, those feelings so foreign to him and too strange for him to take. But for the most part…

What in the world was even going on?