I'm usually not a fan of making notes before the chapter because I prefer to let the piece speak for itself, but I just wanted you as the reader to know that this isn't a slash fic, was never a slash fic, and will not become a slash fic. Any LGBT (lesbian, gay, Bisexual, Transgender) characters are simply that way for diversity and what I personally think is possible for them. I promise this won't turn into an insane crack pairing carnival.

Thank you for reading and please, proceed.

Timmy couldn't have pedaled faster if he tried. The wheels of his bike strained against the pavement as he tore through the same portion of road for the third time. He'd left Aj's house only moments ago and decided to go home and wait for Jorgan's final decision. Although he felt he knew what it would be.
He biked through most of Dimmsdale's commercial area, taking the long way home.
Chester was still working and Timmy didn't bother going in to visit. He couldn't imagine of walking up to his register with that kind of news when the guy would have another four hours or so of work to get through.
He'd stopped to chat with Sanjay and Elmer for a while, but they hurried off once the conversation was clearly going nowhere. Timmy tried apologizing, but even that came out deflated. He was bad at dealing with grief. After all, he'd never had anyone die on him before.
His stomach lurched at that thought. He needed a distraction.
'Something, anything.'
At this point he'd even welcome something he hated. Anything to get the thought of A.j.'s sick body wrapped up in bed.

Like… Francis.

Ugh, Francis. That was true hate. The monster with dark hair and an even darker inner pit that seemed to back the color of his eyes had been the bane of Timmy's existence for the better half of his life. Present at every turn, taunting, punching, crushing. If there'd been a Hell on earth, Timmy would have to say that it wandered, rearing up in Francis' presence.
It died down a bit, however, when they'd gotten to junior high. Their principal was far less tolerant of the boy's behavior, coming down harder on him for each of his transgressions against Timmy- or any other student for that matter. A nice change from the indifference, or better yet, incompetence of his former principal. Still, every now and again he'd bump into the guy. Usually when heading home after school or being out on the block a little too late post sunset. And despite not seeing him quite as often as he once did, Francis hadn't lost his touch.
It started happening less, weekly instead of daily, then from weekly to almost monthly. Maybe that was the reason he'd gotten a little better at hiding in sixth grade, why he'd been able to run a little faster from Francis in seventh, and why his enemy appeared almost disinterested in fighting when they entered eighth. Eventually, Timmy found himself able to walk home rather than jog, and was pleasantly surprised to make it all the way without altercation. Still, he knew better than to be completely trusting of the situation and started riding his bike around town more often.
Francis' touch was certainly something not lost.

'BEEP BEEP!'
The noise sounded more like a harsh thunder than the docile chime it had been. Timmy tilted his head knowingly to his wrist to see the pink flashing light. They'd come to a decision and, much to his dismay, he'd have to head back and accept it no matter how hard it would be to bare.
'Just past the market and…' He slowed, without thinking, crawling to a stop.

In the opening of a small alley between the grocery store and a boarding house, he could clearly see Francis. At first, he thought himself foolish to waste time looking but then he looked closer, spying what so sternly had the boy's attention.
Locked between two lips and a pair of scrawny arms, green flannel faded with years of wear, and teeth that'd only been free of metal braces for two months prior- Francis' touch was at full force, and from what Timmy could see, better than ever.

"Ch… Chester?" His voice was weak, mouth totally dry.
Timmy sat up on the seat of his bike, willing his feet to move but not finding the strength to.

The boy pulled back, shaking a lock of blond hair from his eye. He froze as he realized who'd called his name.
"Timmy?" He questioned, already knowing the answer.

Timmy watched him slip away from a very irritated Francis, straightening the dingy shirt back over his shoulders, careful to readjust the name tag pinned to the pocket, and clamping both hands down on his arms. The look on his face was a mix of horror and utter embarrassment.
"I uh, I'm on break." He jerked his chin in the store's direction, trying to put on a smile. "You're a life saver. Ten more minutes and I'd be late."
Unfortunately, the joke fell on rather deaf ears.

"Chester," The shock was melting and understanding was quickly taking its place. Chester had done this before. He could see the guilt plastered on those freckled cheeks. This wasn't an accident or first offense, it was… planned. His surprise and what he now recognized had been worry was slowly percolating into anger.
"What the Hell?"

"Timmy, wait-"

"Wait?" He growled, stepping off of his bike and giving the boy a sudden shove. He hadn't thought of it, hadn't even noticed he'd motioned to put the bike's kickstand down. "You want me to wait?" His blood felt hot under his skin and he soon found himself chest to chest with the other boy. Everything he'd been through today coursed through him. A.j.'s news, his helplessness, it was too much to stifle. He was angry now, more so than he'd ever been. He was so close to losing one friend and now it seemed he'd be letting go of another.

"Dude, stop it." Chester sighed, taking one of Timmy's wrists in attempt to calm him, taken aback by the punch that nearly reached his jaw in response. "Dude!" And then came yet another swipe, this time by his eye. If he wasn't careful, Timmy was actually going to land a hit. And that frightened him.
The two, like any other boys, had fought before but not like this. What at one time was a bloody nose between friends seemed more along the lines of murder at the moment.
"Are you serious?"

"Are you?" Timmy spat, taking one more swing before his other wrist was trapped in Chester's larger hand. He shook his arms wildly, desperate to break the hold and get a grip of his friend's now quivering throat. He mustered another shove that made the lanky boy's frame ripple once before he steadied. "You and Francis?"

Chester's eyes softened then. "Yeah?" The rising hurt he felt was evident in his tone.
He let one of Timmy's hands fall before raising an arm to still the other boy who had now come over to the scuffle. "What about it?" His voice cracked.

No response came from the shorter, save for another swing that nearly had Francis lunge his way.

"You got a problem with that, Turner?" As always he spoke with a little too much gravel.

Timmy's eyes shifted from Chester's ever moistening pair to Francis.
"It's disgusting." He said flatly. "I hate you."

The other winced.
"C'mon man, you don't mean that."

"I do, Chester. And you know that." His focus was back on Chester now, eyes narrowed as he ripped his other hand back to his own chest. "You've always known that. You used to hate him too."

"Things change, man."

Timmy clenched his jaw, tooth grinding on tooth. He'd had enough of that word, that excuse. Change was becoming the reason for everything wrong lately. Change was sneaking up on him over and over again, kicking his ass when it was close enough.
"When, Chester?" He barked. "When did things change? When did you change? When did you start hiding behind dumpsters with the guy that used to beat the crap out of you, huh?" He gasped, panting from the volume he'd taken on. "When did you start lying to me?"

Chester tucked his tongue under itself, obviously hesitant to answer. He buttoned his wobbling lip in refusal to the tears that threatened to fall.
"Can we not do this… here?" He murmured, taking notice to the few customers that had stopped to watch the argument.

"What?"
Timmy looked around them, seeing the same crowd. His stance wilted as if he'd come back to himself. The surge of adrenalin had finally run out and now we was just the kid-in-the-pink-hat being noisy with the-kid-from-the-trailer-park. His cheeks tinted a dull red as he recognized a few faces as neighbors and people who definitely knew his parents.
"Fine then." He murmured.

"I-I'll call you."

"You sure you know the number?" He quipped before heading back to his bike. "Or did you lie about having a phone too?"

Chester sneered. "I'll call you, Timmy."

Wanda and Jorgen have come to a form of decision while Timmy and Chester had their own troubles. Next chapter soon to come!