"Kiiiirby..." Trent moaned, turning on his side to face the other teen.
"Treeeent," Kirby mocked, picking up the washcloth that fell from the
bully's burning head when he moved.
"It huuuurts," the blonde shut his eyes when Kirby moved so the light
of the window directly hit his face. "Make it stoooop..."
"Shush up, I'm doing what I can," the jock replied, leaning back in
his wheelchair.
It was 4 in the afternoon and the dorm was filled with loud, obnoxious
boys, yet the common room seemed so empty. There was a very high
probability that no one wanted to catch Trent's illness. That cough
that makes your chest tight and ache, along with the sore throat and
runny nose topped off with a terrible headache. No one wanted that,
even just to skip classes.
When someone walked in to see why it sounded like a girl was whining
on the couch, they stepped away when they saw Trent's terrible state
combined with Kirby's glare. The only one that really didn't care if
he got sick was Jimmy. Even when Kirby told him to shoo (in the nicest
way possible), the king of the school never left them. In fact, he
even brought in another washcloth to put on Trent's head. He also
asked Petey to get some cough syrup for the bully.
Within a few hours, Trent was actually able to sit up without whining
like a baby. Yeah his head still swam and his vision spun, but it
didn't hurt all that bad.
"I'm just gonna..." Trent trailed off before he collapsed on Kirby's
bed in the jock's dorm room.
"Trent," he hissed. "Get the hell off my bed! You have your own."
"Yeah, but yours is comfy."
"Dan could walk in any minute."
"And I should care because...?"
Kirby huffed and slumped in his chair. Trent knew that Kirby hated it
when their secret is thrown out in the open to be discovered by nearly
everything Trent did. And he did it on purpose. He knew it made Kirby
angry yet he did it anyways.
It made Kirby flash back for a moment to that fateful day his heart
was given back again.
"It's not like the entire school is or anything!"
He bit his lip.
"Why can't you just understand-"
He shook his head.
"I understand more than you would ever know. What you don't
understand is that it needs to fucking happen!"
He shook his head harder and sighed. He flashed back to their argument
every once in a while, more frequently since he's been around Trent.
He knew that if he tried to fix it he'd either break down or chicken
out or both. It was a big gaping hole that had yet to be patched up.
Of course he had questions. He was so angry that day, he didn't stop
and think. That entire argument ran on pure anger and nothing else.
That was his big mistake.
"Baby."
The brunette looked up from where he was staring at his lap to Trent,
his previous position changed from sprawled out to sitting up.
"You're worrying."
Kirby shook his head. "I'm fine. Now get out of here," he responded
with a half smile, his hands moving to shoo Trent out of the room. He
was given a concerned look and a bid goodnight before the bully
stumbled out of the thick air consuming them both.
When Kirby wheeled into the hallways of the dormitory the next
morning, he immediately noticed a fight beginning to break out by the
common room doorway. He rolled off to the side to watch, but paused
when he saw two jocks up against one bully.
Damon and Casey versus Trent.
That idiot!
Kirby merely crossed his arms over his chest and sighed, watching
Trent quickly lose. Troy eventually came to his ally's side, but he
was too late. The bullies were beaten to a bloody pulp.
Everyone watching continued on with whatever they were doing, along
with Damon and Casey after quick taunts to the losers. Kirby returned
their greetings as they passed, gently refusing their offer to push
him to art ("since we beat the shit out of your caretaker," they had
said).
Troy was the first to get up. He leaned against the doorway and sighed
heavily, wiping away some blood running down his eye. After a short
while, Trent began to sit up. All he could manage to do was prop his
head up against the wall beside Troy, but the way his chin dug into
his collar bone was too painful. Especially since it was pretty
bruised up.
Troy attempted to help Trent sit up more, but he had fallen over
again. Only when the bullies gave up altogether did Kirby step (hah)
in. With strength back in his muscles from pushing himself around when
Trent wasn't, he was able to awkwardly lift the two gigantic
teenagers back up against the wall. He sat there and contemplated what
to do. He didn't know how to help either of them stop bleeding, and no
one walking by did either. It's not like he wanted to help them
though! He just... needed someone to push him around. In his
wheelchair. Yeah.
He quit looking like an idiot just standing (sitting) there, staring
at them, when thin, pale hands holding a small cloth were gently
cleaning off Trent's face. Kirby followed the hands to pink sleeves,
then looked into the hazel eyes of Pete Kowalski. Thank god for him!
This guy was apparently good with medicinal stuff. Or at least it was
rumoured to be something like that.
His eyebrows were knit into their usual worried look and his lips were
a concerned frown. Kirby watched as he leaned down to grab something
from what looked like a first-aid kit.
"I haven't had to do this in a while," Pete mumbled, eyebrows
twitching when a hiss left Trent's mouth at the application of
hydrogen peroxide on his cuts. The small teen rolled up his pink
sleeves carefully, moving on to clean Troy up. When their faces were
less bloody, Peter stood up and nodded to Kirby before disappearing
somewhere. Kirby sat there once more, staring at the two idiots who
took on the jocks.
Troy stumbled up on to his feet and made his way outside after glaring
at Kirby. Trent didn't move except for lolling his head to either
side. He mumbled something incoherent before sliding sideways down the
wall, his movements stopping altogether. The only sign that he was
still alive was the rise and fall of his chest.
Kirby groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know what to
do. Leave him there? It's the only thing that he really could do.
There was no way he could lift or even carry Trent. He was huge! He
was over six feet, at least. Kirby was around five foot five, and even
with all of the strength in his arms there was no way he could lift
him. No way.
Just leaning him against that wall was enough.
The brunette sighed again and turned towards the door leading outside.
No one else was in the dorm besides an unconscious Trent, so there was
no one to help him out.
He carefully rolled down the stairs and made his way to the front of
the school, looking around for someone willing to help him.
There were mostly non-cliques and little kids walking around. There
were a few girls but they were probably too weak. He didn't do too
well with the bullies, the nerds despised him, and shit the bell rang.
"Gord!" he yelled, catching sight of the prep walking towards the
school. The other brunette turned and tilted his head to the side,
stalking over to stand in front of the jock who called for him.
Kirby actually didn't have a bad relationship with Gord. They weren't
the best of friends, but they didn't hate eachother. Gord was about
his only option.
"Mind helping me up the stairs?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he
nodded his head towards the school building.
"Not at all," the prep responded with a half smile, moving around to
take Kirby's wheelchair by the handles. He easily pushed him up the
steps and into the school, then up the staircase leading to the top
floor. Gord waved to the jock as he rolled the rest of the way there,
making it to class just before the bell rang.
When morning classes were over and lunch hour rolled in, Kirby made
his way to the cafeteria. His eyes drifted over to the jock table,
hesitantly rolling forward towards the clique. He hadn't seen them the
past few days except for Dan, his roommate, and Damon and Casey, who
beat Trent and Troy up earlier that morning. His cover was blown when
Bo waved him over. Everyone turned and gave him a smile, which he
returned, as he rolled over to the table. Everyone greeted him and
patted him hard on the back.
He grabbed an apple from the basket in front of him and nibbled on it
while he nodded or shook his head in response to all of the questions
he was asked. The slight anxiety he had was slowly settling down as he
talked to his fellow jock members.
Until a certain question was asked.
"So what're you doin' with Northwick all the time?"
He should've expected it. He looked down, a lie prepared as he choked
down the vomit that was rising up the back of his throat.
He couldn't speak.
"Christy told me that Crabblesnitch assigned him a caretaker," Damon
said after a long silence, everyone turning over to him. Kirby sighed
quietly in relief, gulping down the lump in his throat. Thank god for
Damon.
And thank god for Christy believing that lie.
The rest of lunch was spent talking about sports and girls. Everything
was fine, Kirby told himself. But he couldn't help but feel that
nothing was okay.
Somebody knew.
A/N: I'm sick like always so yay another chapter! :D
Sorry if it's short but hey this is where the plot thickens.
Kinda.
I'm still in need of ideas, you know...
Review maybe?