Sorry it's been so long. I really can't blame it on school because the honest truth is because I'm lazy. You know I don't own beyblade sooooo, on with it!

*Oliver's P.O.V.*

Picking up a pillow I scream my frustration into it. After a minute or two of silence I throw it, knocking something that sounded breakable in the process, and fling myself face down onto my mattress. Am I mad at my sister for telling everyone I drink? Hell no. It's just the way she done it was so annoying and bitchish. 'She really is a bitch. She really is. If everyone hadn't been there I would've stabbed her. I really would have this time... Okay, maybe not... Well at least not a fatal stab... Maybe in the arm or something.' A knock at the door interrupts my reassuring thoughts. I get up, lazily and slowly, and walk the very short distance to the portal separating me from the outside world. Getting to my destination, I turn the knob and swing the piece of wood to see my doom standing on the other side.

"Oliver." Enrique says my name. Why? I'm not sure why people do that. He, along with Johnny and Robert, stand waiting for me to invite them in.

"What?" I ask, a little too harshly, leaning on the door frame. My eyes move into a glare by themselves as I stare at my old team mates.

They seem to shrink back a little as an intimidating aura covers me. Looking at one another, it's clear they're having a silent argument about who will be the one to speak. "Can we come in?" Johnny's voice is like a kitten when he speaks, small and vulnerable. Sighing in exasperation, I move to the side allowing them to pass the threshold into my domain.

Once inside they sit on the little sofa and chairs in front of the fire place. I secure the door close and turn to observe them. By the way they're shifting and avoiding direct eye contact with me its clear nervousness is eating them away. After a few minutes of this awkward filled silence boredom has begun eating away at me. No, correction. It's already had a five course meal and is now snaking on dessert. Rolling my eyes at their stupidity, I walk into the small conjoining bathroom. The shushed voices of my companions reach my ears but I pay no mind as I reach into the sink cabinet and pull out a normal looking water bottle. It's actually Bacardi-vodka mix (I have no idea if people mix that and if it taste good, but hey, it's a story); the preferred drink of me and my sister and what we drank almost 3 bottles of during the other bladers "Operation: Get Information" last night.

Entering my bedroom, I cause whatever the other three high class aristocrats were conversation about to abruptly stop. 'No, not the other three. The only three.' The thoughts of my subconscious reflect back to me. Thoughts that which are true. Which I'm happy are true. I couldn't and wouldn't want to fit back into the world of blue bloods. Even before living with my mom I despised the upper class way of living. 'Especially the way my father enforced the high class rules and expiations.' I quickly take a drink from my bottle to wash away the memories that have begun to resurface.

"Oliver?"

"Hmm?" My eyes snap to Robert. He has a curious look on his face and is eyeing my bottle warily.

"What is in that?" He asks, pointing at my water bottle.

"It's not proper to point."

"It is also not proper for someone under the legal age limite to consume alcoholic beverages." Instead of retaliating with a clever comeback or a good smack to the head, which trust me I've wanted to give him so bad at times, I huff up and stick my tongue out. Childish? Yes. Do I really give a damn? No.

"What happened to you Oliver? I mean, before you were so nice and happy but now..." Johnny trails off obviously not knowing how to describe my (in their words) 'dramatic' transformation.

"No I wasn't." I mumble, turning my head to the window. If only they knew. Knew even half of the things I had to go through to make me look like 'a model blue blood', my father putting me through all that stuff, none the less.

"Ollie, are you okay?" My blonde companion cautiously walks up to me. He raises his tan hand and wipes a drop of liquid off my cheek.

"Why is there water on my face?" I ask no one in particular.

"Oliver, you're crying." Johnny rolls his eyes while Robert has a concerned expression. It's about this time I notice how watery my vision is and how my eyes are burning. Lifting the sleeve of my jacket I quickly wipe away the impending tears and the ones that had manage to escape down my face.

"I'm sorry if I said something that bothered you." My violet eyes clash with red. Of course he would think that it was something he said that made me sad. They have always referred to me and the girly and weak one. 'If only they knew.'

I let out a humorless laugh as my mouth sets into some kind of half-line half cold smirk. "Trust me;" I begin "words don't do a damn thing to me."

"Oliver." My gaze goes from my ex-team captain to the Scot whose house me and my siblings are currently occupying. "I don't know what your problem is. Whatever it is surly doesn't give you any right to walk around acting like a prick after being gone for a year, especially to your friends. I know your dad was thrown in jail but still, your dad is still the richest out of all of our fathers and you've never had to lift a finger so quit acting like any other spoiled brat and like your life is the oh so worst in the world and grow up."

The entire room seems to freeze for a few minutes in time. Both the Italian and the German of the group sit, well stand in Enrique's case, gaping at the Scott. Johnny, still red in the face from clear aggravation, sits panting after his long yell rant. The red in his face starts to fade and the look of annoyance beings to be replaced by one of shock at the words he just said. It is clear though he isn't going to apologize. For the entire time of the silence lapse I stand, next to my old blonde best friend, staring at my host's son.

"No." I say after several agonizing minutes of quite. The two not in the middle of mine and my red head ex-team mate's confrontation cock an eyebrow up at my one worded sentence while Johnny, once again, becomes red in the face. Not giving him a chance to comeback, I continue. "Don't talk to me like you know me. We may have beenacquaintances in the past but you could never count that as friendship. You don't know the first thing about anythin' in my life so don't go stickin' your two cents where it don't belong." Moving my eyes across everyone, I address them all. "None of you know the slightest thing about me or my life so don't act like we were best friends. Y'all are nothin' but a group of stuck up, low life, high class teens that don't notice anything' that ain't laid out right in front of your eyes." My body was shaking in rage. I knew all of them had to think the exact same thing Johnny just voiced. My rage, keeping me from thinking rationally, made me speak again. "You don't know the slightest about the things I've had to go through." My voice breaks, tears streaming down my face. Memories of my life with my father flash through my mind. With each one I feel the pain and sadness and agony I felt in that moment of time. Enrique, with a look of concern, not that I'm able to comprehend that in my current rage, slowly starts towards me. Noticing he was getting close I step back and throw the closest knick knack. It flies through the air, barley missing Enrique's and Johnny's heads, and smashes against the fire place mantel. "Just GET OUT."

They all look at each other. Not being able to see what kind and look and not really caring I pick up another knick knack and send it flying into the wall like the previous. The three noble teens quickly scatter to the door, slamming it behind them.

Turning, I fling myself onto my bed and grab the closest pillow. My violent sobs shake my body and the amount of liquid draining from my eyes soaks the pillow. My gaze goes from the pillow to the door just to my left. Somewhat reluctantly, I manage to pull myself to my feet and walk into the bathroom. Going to the sink, I pull open one of the drawers to see the thing I've come to hate and love. Reaching my hand inside, I pull out my razor.

Hope you all enjoyed it. I'm going to leave off here. I'm sure you can figure out what he does with the razor. Once again, sorry about the slow updates, I'll try to do better with that. Key word, try. Reviews, whether good or bad, are welcomed. If you do think I'm doing bad, please tell me what I can do to make my writing better. See ya!