Brian led on his bed staring numbly at the ceiling. It would be half an hour before the alarm would go off telling him it was time to go to school but that didn't matter. Brian had barely slept all night. His face ached, his ribs throbbed and he felt battered and weak. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just run away from this hell he called a family.

Of course they'd all looked away as Jack senior had hit him last night. They always looked away, found other things to do in other parts of the house. His mother had mumbled some daft prayers as Jack had sent him to bed without dinner but apart from that, the incident was entirely ignored; wiped from the memories of the Kinney family. Unfortunately, Brian still wore the evidence on his would-be perfect face.

Brian had been lying on his bed a few hours before Eric arrived with some leftovers he'd salvaged from diner.

"I'm sorry, Bri," he'd whispered, placing a small bowl of some kind of ambiguous pie on the bedside table. "It was all I could get."

Brian had just rolled away from him. Sorry wasn't enough anymore. Brian had long since accepted the fact that he was the only one of the Kinney boys who got the beatings but he hated the way Eric apologized for it afterwards. Eric wasn't sorry and if the roles were reversed, Brian wouldn't be sorry either … he'd be relieved. He'd be jumping for joy. But instead, he was broken, living a loveless life in a world of pricks who don't care.

He looked at his alarm clock. It was obscured slightly by the uneaten bowl of food but Brian could read it well enough to know he'd only killed five minutes, thinking about last night. The time just seemed to drag on forever but eventually, Brian decided it was time to haul himself out of bed and pull on his clothes for school. He wanted to spend as little time as possible in this house today. He could hear his family downstairs talking about something over the breakfast but Brian just found things to do to spend more time in his bedroom, mainly think of explanations as to why his eye had turned a disgusting purple-green colour.

He'd hoped it wouldn't bruise too badly but all hope of that had gone when he spotted himself in the mirror. He looked like a man in a dodgy alien costume. He'd need a really good explanation. Maybe he could tell everybody that he'd got involved in secret FBI work and couldn't tell them anymore or maybe he could say he wrestled a ninja or fought off a vicious wolf. Or, perhaps, he should just say what he always said; 'I fell'. He winced as he pressed the tender flesh around his eye. It looked disgusting. A message to world to tell them just what Brian Kinney meant to his old man. Well, he'd rather starve than sit across the table from his father this morning.

Eventually, though, he had to go downstairs. He heard his mother call him to tell him it was time to leave for the bus. Brian half-ran, half-stumbled down the stairs. His mom was stood there a strained look of sympathy morphing her harsh features. She had a bright, glassy quality to her eyes and Brian knew she'd been on the sherry already. It was ridiculous. The day had barely began and his mum was already well on her way to getting shitfaced … again.

"Oh sweetie," she whispered, running her thumb gently over his youngest son's bruise. She closed her eyes and Brian heard her mutter; "Lord, I pray that you will hear this for I have never wanted anything more. I pray that my son will stop doing things to make my husband angry and I pray that his new job is a success…."

Brian had heard all he needed to. A drunken prayer on the way to school was about as much acknowledgment of what happened last night as Brian could expect from her. He pulled away from her well-meaning bullshit and grabbed some toast off the plate in the centre of the table.

"Ooooo," Jack chuckled when he looked up from his cereal to see the mess his youngest brother's face was in. Then he put on a mocking baby voice and chuckled, "Ickle baby Brian must have done something really naughty."

"Fuck you Jack," he spat.

"Brian," his mother's half-hearted warning about cursing was lost on everyone. Jack senior was already at work, Brian was safe from another beating and his mother would be too drunk to land a punch. She was too fucking drunk to do anything … except drink more sherry.

"Oh come on Bri," Jack whined, his smile betraying his tone, "it's not my fault he takes it all out on you. I'm sorry but … what do you expect me to do about it?"

Brian just glared at Jack for a moment but he couldn't be bothered to argue. What was the point? Nothing ever fucking changed. So he just turned to door and mumbled, "I've got football trials tonight, mom. I'll see you later."

Brian ached as he walked. His ribs and his stomach throbbed with every step but he refused to let the pain show on his face. He wasn't weak, not anymore. No one needed to know that his father hated him. He'd just pretend nothing was wrong. He was only halfway to the school bus stop when he heard two sets of footsteps catching up with him.

"How are you this morning?" Eric asked and to his credit, he sounded concerned.

"Okay," Brian mumbled. It wasn't exactly a lie. He was okay … just okay.

"Good," Eric nodded, seemingly feeling his duty as an older brother was over.

"How did you get that bruise?" Jack asked suddenly and Brian replied,

"I fell over, hit my face on a coffee table."

"Yeah you did," Jack nodded. "We don't need any fucking faggot knowing our private business, right?"

"Right," Brian nodded, his eyes firmly on the pavement beneath his feet. Then he frowned and looked up at Jack. "What the hell are you doing here? Weren't you suspended?"

"No," Jack smirked. "Just sent home for the afternoon to cool down. That's what they're saying anyway. I think I would have been suspended but my football reputation has gone before me and now they want me to be at tryouts."

Brian nodded as the bus pulled up along side. "D'you think we'll get in?"

"I will," Jack nodded confidently. "I've been speaking to the lads on the team and they reckon their blockers are pig-jizz." He puffed out his chest and broadened his shoulders. "I'm just what they need. And I doubt anyone's as quick as Eric, he'll make runner easily. Dunno about you though. Quarterback ain't easy. I've heard Hobbs is good."

Brian nodded a little dejectedly as he watched his older brother disappear onto the yellow bus.

"Don't listen to him, Bri," Eric said, squeezing his shoulders, "you're the best quarterback I've ever seen, for your age."

"Thanks Eric," he smiled weakly and followed his brother onto the bus.

::

Brian had sat with his hand covering his face for the whole of his first lesson and that, coupled with being the weird new kid, had meant that, so far, no one had asked about his bruise. Of course that all changed when he walked into his next lesson to find Justin 'nerd-fag' Taylor sat at a desk alone. All the other desks were full … of course they were. It was only the freaks from the fag mag and the comic book club that sat alone.

Brian dipped his head and slid into the seat next to Justin.

"Hey," Justin beamed at him. "How was the drive home?"

"Fine," Brian mumbled, placing his hand carefully over his bruise and pretending that that was where he usually liked to place his hand when he leant his elbow on the table. It looked uncomfortable and awkward and fooled Justin for about a second.

"Are you okay, you look all … weird?"

"I'm fine," Brian said curtly.

"Oh," Justin didn't look convinced, "okay. Are you all ready for tryouts later?"

"Yes." He was hoping if he kept his answers short, this boy would leave him alone.

"Good. I've got a camera, I've asked Emmett to try and take some photos but I doubt they'll be as good as the ones you took. They were amazing by the way. And I'm going to do the article but I think I told you that yesterday. The coach was really buzzing about having three brand new players to trial as well as the ones in the first year."

Brian stayed silent and Justin continued.

"I think the article will be a feature, on the back page or something. Maybe you could do an interview with me afterwards so I'd have something to flesh the article out a bit."

Silence.

"Brian."

"What?" The boy snapped.

"Will you do an interview for my article?"

"No."

Justin just stared at Brian, or at least at his hand which was still covering the entire of his face from this angle. "You know," he hissed, "sometimes you're a real asshole."

Brian just nodded his agreement. Finally, the blonde was getting it.

Brian heard Justin open his mouth to ask yet another inane question but he was saved because that was the moment the teacher walked into the room. Well, he thought he'd been saved. It turned out the teachers arrival just made things a hundred times worse.

"Mr Kinney," she sighed, "sit up straight please and take your elbow off the desk."

Brian hesitated for a long time but, realising there was nothing he could really do, he was forced to lower his hand and reveal the black eye to his neighbour. He was just grateful that the teacher's presence meant Justin couldn't talk to him about it straight away because, if the look on the blonde's face was anything to go by, there were a hell of a lot of questions.

The lesson, in Brian's opinion, didn't last long enough and his long legs hadn't let him escape quick enough, so that meant he'd barely reached the corridor when Justin was right along side him.

"What happened to your face?"

"I fell over," Brian mumbled.

"And hit your eye?"

"I landed on a coffee table," he shrugged, stopping at his locker and putting in the code.

"It doesn't look like a…" But Justin didn't get to finish his sentence because he'd touched Brian's face gently with his fingers which had caused the taller boy to leap away like he'd been burnt.

"Don't touch me, faggot!"

Justin looked hurt for a moment but he just shook his head and said calmly. "I gave you chance after chance but you really are a goddamn homophobic asshole."

"You've finally got it," Brian snarled and with those last words, Justin turned around and stormed off. Long after he'd gone, Brian couldn't help his hand from reaching up to the place on his cheek where Justin had touched him. It had been the briefest of connections but it still tingled, it still sent a buzz like no other through his body. The only explanation was that Justin was made of electricity and that was stupid even as a thought hidden in the depths of Brian's own internal insanity.

Brian's next class was chemistry and he was equally pleased and devastated to find that Justin wasn't in this lesson. He beamed when Sandy waved him over.

"Come and sit with me," she insisted. "Everyone knows that as head cheerleader it's my duty to make any potential football star feel welcome." She fluttered her eyelashes flirtily and Brian flashed her a smile. "How did you get that bruise?" She asked sweetly, reaching up to finger it lightly. Brian didn't pull away, he didn't need to, he didn't feel that jolt he'd felt when Justin had touched him.

"Erm, I fell over."

"That was silly," she said, shaking her head a little but that was all she said. She didn't want to know anymore and Brian liked it that way.

Brian actually quite enjoyed the time he spent talking to Sandy in that lesson. Yes, she was thick and yes she probably would have blown their eyebrows off if he'd let her mix any of the chemicals herself but at least he wasn't being made to squirm under the intensity of her eyes and every time they accidentally bumped elbows he didn't feel like his entire body was on fire. This was safer and easier. He liked this.

He didn't notice Lindsey working with some boy at the back of the class until the bell had gone and all the class were filing out.

"She's totally using you," Lindsey whispered in his ear. Brian looked up and smiled, a truely genuine smile when he saw the girl. He actually liked her, she was the only person that he felt completely himself around in the entire school.

"Wow, your smile is amazing," she chuckled. "If I wasn't a dyke…."

Brian had a thought for a second, him, Lindsey … then he shook his head. No, that couldn't work. Besides, she had Mel.

"So, are you gonna tell me about the bruise? Or is it some embarrassing story where you fell over and bumped your head?"

"Embarrassing story," Brian admitted. "I fell over, smacked it on a coffee table."

"I bet the coffee table came off worse though, right?"

"No, the coffee table's fine."

"Then it should be arrested for assault," Lindsey said firmly before smiling warmly. "Who are you eating lunch with?"

"Er, my brothers probably," he said.

"Well, if you want, there's always a seat at our table."

"Oh, okay. Thanks," he smiled at her again.

Lindsey almost took a step back. "Flash Sandy one of those," she said, indicating the boy's grin "and she'll be putty in your hands."

::

The day had gone relatively quickly. Brian had eaten lunch with his brothers like always. He'd been forced to listen to Jack brag about how the head cheerleader had been flirting with him all morning and then Eric had said she'd been doing the same to him.

"Me too," Brian had added. Brian guessed Lindsey was right, Sandy was using him. She was flirting with all three of them, waiting to see which was going to be the hero of the football team before dating them. It was calculated and passionless. Brian hoped she chose him.

The rest of the lessons were a bit shit. He was sat next to Justin in both of them and the blond refused to talk to Brian at all. He didn't even look his way but he did slide an eraser across the desk when Brian asked to borrow one. Brian had thought that Justin not speaking to him would have been better. That all these tense awkward feelings would disappear but it just got worse, much worse. So much worse, in fact, that eventually, Brian muttered;

"I'm sorry. It just came out. I didn't mean it to say it. I didn't mean to offend you."

And Justin smiled back with full force. Brian felt his stomach clench and he put it down to relief that now it wouldn't be so awkward in class.

"So," Justin was saying at they walked towards the football pitch after school was over, "can I get an interview with you afterwards?"

"Maybe," Brian nodded. "I'll see how beat up I am."

"Okay," Justin smiled "but you should be fine. There aren't any coffee tables for miles."

Brian smiled a little at the joke. Perhaps it would have been funny if his injury were actually caused by a coffee table.

"Well," Justin said as they reached the entrance to the changing rooms. "Good luck," he patted Brian on the chest, "I'll see you later."

"Later," Brian repeated watching Justin disappear into the bleachers.

Suddenly he felt someone kiss his cheek. He turned around to see Sandy beaming up at him.

"It's a good luck kiss," she explained. "Now you'll be amazing."

"Er, thanks," Brian smiled. "I've got to er," he pointed towards the changing rooms.

"Yeah, you go," she nodded waving in a fairy like fashion as Brian disappeared into the locker room.

::

"You're pathetic," Emmett said as he watched his blonde friend scrambling across the seats towards him.

"What?"

"Him, that Brian guy. It's never gonna happen you know. I'm getting barely any gay vibes off him. He's a homophobe. Why are you giving him a chance?"

Justin smiled a little and shrugged. "I don't know. There's something about him I guess."

"Like the fact he's a walking wet dream of god-like goodness?"

"That doesn't hurt," Justin grinned before adding seriously, "but it's more than that. You can see it sometimes in his eyes … he looks broken. I mean, you should see the black eyes he's got. He says he fell over but that's obviously not…." Justin spotted the strange expression on his friend's face. "What?" He demanded.

"Well," Emmett sucked in his breath a little. "When Teddy and I dropped him off at his house last night, we saw his dad march out of the house and slap him across the face."

"What?" Justin gasped.

"Yeah," Emmett sighed. "So, if he doesn't wanna tell you where he got the bruises maybe, we should respect his wishes."

Justin nodded numbly. He felt a little sick. He'd thought Brian had been in a fight he was embarrassed about or that the bruise had been the result of some embarrassing experimental jerking off, you never knew with breeders, but he'd never expected that Brian's own father would have beaten the shit out of him. Justin swallowed. There was so much more to Brian than Brian would let on.

::

Brian had chosen a secluded corner to get changed. He was hoping no one would notice the marks his father's little temper tantrum had left all over him. Unfortunately, he wasn't that lucky. The locker room was full of boys, too many for the limited amount of space. They were all on top of each other and Brian knew he was fucked the second he pulled his shirt over his head he heard someone whistle long and low.

"Christ Kinney, what the fuck happened to you?"

"I fell over," Brian answered immediately as he turned to see who'd asked him. It was the Captain, Joey Bridger, but he'd drawn the attention of everyone in the room. Brian squirmed having that many half naked men staring at him was a little uncomfortable.

"Fell over?" Joey asked in disbelief.

Brian was just about to answer again when he felt Jack appear at his side. "He fell out of a tree house," Jack laughed heartily.

"You still have a tree house?" Another boy asked.

"We use it for storage," Jack explained. Well that bit of the story was true enough. "Anyway, we sent Brian up there to get this old DVD player and he fell."

Joey looked more than a little sceptical at the story but he just turned away and said, "lets hope your hand-eye coordination is better on the pitch, eh Bri?"

A few of the boys chuckled and Brian just pulled on his shirt as Jack muttered, "you're welcome," in his ear, before going back to get changed.

Brian just shook his head and sighed heavily. He couldn't wait to get on that field now. Yeah, he was nervous but he loved football. His coach had always said he was good and it was a chance for him to forget everything else that was going on and just be this whole other being. It was a way of escaping, of letting out all the shit he carried around with him. Even the air was different on the football field. It was filled with the smell of churned up grass and sweat and tears and determination. It was the best place in the world, as far as Brian was concerned. It was free and it was pure and it was bliss.

::

Justin watched the entire tryouts from the bleachers as he did every year. He felt his mouth drop when he saw Brian come out dressed in the tight white pants and purple shirt that were the school colours. He looked fucking hot and Emmett seemingly agreed as he elbowed Justin feverishly as Brian bent over to pick up his water bottle unintentionally showing off his ass to the two of them.

It helped, of course, that Brian was amazing at football. He always looked a million steps ahead of everyone else. He called the perfect plays and controlled them, running them with precision. He threw the ball when he needed to, usually picking out his lighting fast brother who was belting down the line but Brian could run too and if the time called for it, Brian would side step seven or eight players making them look like pathetic, overweight schmucks chasing an Easter egg. Chris Hobbs was old news. In fact, Justin barely noticed that he was out on the field at all. The old quarterback had been completely usurped by a younger, faster, better model and he didn't look happy about it.

"He's amazing," Justin sighed. "I mean, all three brothers are good but Brian could win us the championship."

"Yeah," Emmett agreed distantly.

Justin shot him a confused look and the other boys just shrugged.

"My interest in football ends with the tight pants and hunky men. And obviously the old jokes about tight ends and wide receivers. Like, I'd never have pegged Eric Kinney as a wide receiver or Jack Kinney as a tight end" he winked and Justin just chuckled a little.

"As always though," Justin sighed, "it's the elusive Brian Kinney who is difficult to peg."

"Mm," Emmett nodded. "I'm going to go pitch side and snap a few photos. What are you going to do?"

"I think I'll stay here," Justin decided. "Start writing up a few of these notes and I might hang around, see if I can get a bit of an interview with one of the Kinney's and the coach."

"Hmm, okay then honey, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure. Bye."

"See ya later."

Justin went back to watching the tryouts unfold. People always thought it was weird when he told them he liked football but Justin truly believed there was a creativity in sport that some people just didn't get. From the bleachers, football looked like physical poetry, like a beautiful dance done by muscular men. But he enjoyed the emotional attachment you could get from it too; a win could elate you and a loss could depress you. He was a strange feeling to be that attached to something so far out of his own control but he loved it. He watched Emmett take a few more photos before the tryouts were called to an end. Emmett left pretty quickly but Justin watched as the boys messed about as they walked back to the changing rooms to take a shower. The coach seemed to be letting them go at different times until there was only Brian, Eric, Jack, Chris and Joey the captain left.

Justin wished he could hear what was going on but it turned out the actions of the players were enough. The coach spoke for a moment or two to all of them, before focusing more on Brian and Chris. Chris suddenly turned around and threw his helmet to the floor like a stroppy child, before he marched furiously to the changing rooms leaving a trail of furiously-flung body armour behind him. Eric patted Brian on the back and Jack gave him a punch on the shoulder, then all three shook hands with the coach and Joey before going inside. It looked like Brian might have made quarter back. Justin raced down the steps and up to the coach.

"Could I have a statement for the school magazine please, sir?"

"Taylor," the coach sighed. "I've got a home to go to."

"It'll only take a moment," the blonde insisted and the coach grudgingly agreed. Justin asked a couple of questions about the upcoming season and the arrival of the new players, all the time watching the changing room doors. He wanted to go in and get an interview with Brian but he didn't want to stroll in when there were loads of people milling about. Brian would act totally differently if he was in a group, Justin already knew that.

When Justin saw Chris leave, he wrapped up his interview with the coach and ran to the locker room. As soon as the door opened, Justin was greeted with mountains of rolling steam. It choked him as the air was suddenly deprived of oxygen. It was humid and the steam was choking him. He had to take his jacket off and placed it over his arm before he melted away like a ice cube in a microwave.

He moved further into the room until a bench seemed to leap out of the steam and he walked straight into it, banging his knee hard.

"Shit," he hissed and suddenly he was aware of a tall boy at his side.

"What the fuck are you doing in here, faggot? Come to check out our dicks?"

Justin's eyes were becoming accustomed to the weird light and could see the boy talking was Jack Kinney.

"I wanted an interview," Justin explained.

"You don't have to come into the changing rooms for that," Eric chimed in. "Reckon the little fairy's after a look of Brian's cock, Jack. Tommo said he's been following him around since we got here."

"You after my fucking brother, faggot?" Jack asked, shoving Justin suddenly.

"No," Justin shook his head furiously. "I just wanted a few words from one of you on how the trials we-…" But the word was never finished, because it was at that second, Brian stepped stark bollock-naked out of the shower, but it wasn't the perfect body that had rendered Justin speechless, it wasn't even the perfect cock, it was the black and blue bruises that covered his otherwise flawless skin.

"Hey!" Jack yelled, shoving Justin even harder so he fell against the locker. "You fucking pervert stop looking at my brother!"

"What's going on?" Brian asked, wrapping a towel around his waist and walking towards them.

"This little queen's come in here looking for you."

Brian frowned for a second and Justin could see something struggling in those hazel eyes but even though the expression seemed to say sorry the words sneered,

"you wanna suck my cock faggot?"

"I just want an interview," Justin explained again, his eyes fixed carefully on Brian's until the other boy looked away.

"I'll do an interview," another voice suddenly interrupted and Justin saw Joey Bridger sat on a bench pulling on a shoe. "I'll meet you outside in two minutes."

"Okay," Justin nodded.

"Right," Jack hissed, giving him a last shove. "So get the fuck out." Justin didn't need to be told twice. He scuttled quickly out of the room.

He waited for Joey, he asked him a few questions and scribbled down the answers but he always kept one eye on the changing room doors. He watched Jack leave and walk off, he watched Eric leave and then he thanked Joey who said,

"look mate. You can't just go strolling into the locker room when you like. Personally, I don't have a problem if you're gay but some people do. Don't piss em off, alright?"

Justin had nodded though he'd barely been listening. He was just willing Joey to shut the fuck up so he could sneak back into the changing rooms. He wasn't even sure why he was doing this. He must have been a glutton for punishment but he really wanted to hear Brian's explanation for the bruises and, on a lesser level, he did want to get that interview.

The door to the changing room creaked a little and banged shut when Justin let it go.

"Alright Jack. I'm hurrying," Brian's voice came from the steam. "Give me a break. It takes a little longer when my ribs are aching."

"All those bruises," Justin said quietly. He watched the other boy freeze and he pulled his shirt over his head. He turned around slowly and looked at Justin as the shorter boy said, "just how bad was that coffee table fall?"

"Fuck off … faggot," Brian hissed, sitting town and pulling on his trainers.

"Do you have any other responses?"

"What don't you understand about fuck off?"

"Well," Justin said, sitting on the bench nearest the door, "from a literal point of view, it doesn't actually make sense does it," and barely pausing for breath he continued, "who hurt you?"

Brian tensed a little as he tied his laces but he just muttered, "no one. I fell."

"It was your dad, wasn't it?"

Brian's head snapped up quickly. There was pure fear in his eyes but he said, "no. What the hell makes you think that?"

"Emmett and Ted saw it," Justin whispered. "He came out of the house and beat you up."

"It's not like that," Brian said throwing his stuff into his bag and getting to his feet. "I deserved it."

"Why?" Justin pressed. "What did you do?"

"It's none of your goddamn business!" Brian yelled, his eyes were sparking with fury and he was panting heavily as he glared at Justin. His fists were clenched as he felt rage and fury and hurt battling inside him, overwhelming him completely. "Why do you even care? Do you want it as a story for your shitty magazine? Or were you planning to storm in like some fucking white knight and save me? Well I've got news for you, you fucking little queer, I don't need you to save me. I don't need anyone to save me! I'm fine, so just … leave me the hell alone!"

Brian was now just millimetres away from him and the air between them wasn't entirely angry. Justin could feel it even if Brian couldn't. This electric surge, this pull, this unbearable need to reach up and kiss the boy in front of him but an unbelievable fear that Brian would kill him if he tried. So he just took a step away, looked to the mud-covered, tiled floor and mumbled an apology for disturbing him, before turning from the new school quarterback and walking away.