Countdown

[A/N: I think of Jimmy and Peter's relationship as plutonic. Why? Because I like the idea that Pete is inherently straight. Got a problem with it? I'll punch you in the throat if you do. You'll be sitting at your computer, then – ack! Been cyber-throatpunched. I'm just kidding, lovelies. I would never do that to you~ My computer is insistent on changing all of the occurrences of "laying" to "lying" in this fic. I'm gonna go through and fix it eventually, but ugh.

I've discovered some more ear-fuel for this particular muse. Pink Floyd's The Wall is wonderful sadism music. Specifically the songs "In the Flesh", "One of My Turns", and "Waiting for the Worms".]

Pete had to go to school. He protested like a stubborn child, but there was no way he could stay in the shelter of Mrs. Phillips' home forever. He knew he had to go back - and he dreaded it - but he didn't have much of a choice. Pete was tired of not having a choice.

He didn't stop looking over his shoulder; he couldn't, not when Gary could be waiting for him behind every corner. He half wished that he had let the instructor help him press charges, that he wouldn't have to worry about being ambushed by an angry sadist. He cursed his twisted morality, the conscience that seemed to want to see him dead, the need he had to protect his tormentor.

The air was thick with the promise of rain, a kind of tension that seemed to keep everybody on edge, not helping Peter's nerves in the least. He went to class with Mrs. Phillips, walking a few feet behind her but still in earshot. After her class, he would be on his own, there would be nobody to protect him. His stomach lurched with the very idea.

Every second - because he was groping to maintain the time - flew by, and when the bell rang, he felt emptiness in his chest cavity. Walking slowly, the dainty male was the last to leave, catching Mrs. Phillip's apologetic gaze as he slipped away. He glared back at her even though he knew it wasn't her fault, but she wasn't angry with him for the bitterness.

The dainty male caught Jimmy's bald head in the crowd and ran to meet him, the older teen glancing down at him questioningly. Peter held up his wrist and grinned sheepishly, trying his best to hide the terror in his eyes. There was a weak smile sent back to him, turned to a baffled stare when they passed the classroom they both knew Peter needed to be in.

"Where were you yesterday?" The burly male tried, leaving the building with a nervous Peter trailing closely behind him.

"You disappeared after Gary dragged you off. There was a rumor going around that you were dead." They both chuckled lightly at that.

"It's a long story." Pete replied tentatively, frantic eyes darting around and locking onto the bushes they were passing as though they would eat him alive.

"I have time." Jimmy suddenly stopped, catching the paranoid behavior before the smaller male could stuff it back into the nonchalance he had been expressing before.

They were standing in the middle of a path, directly adjacent to the opening leading to the prep's area, and he seemed totally unafraid of the threat not fifty feet away. Of course, Jimmy wasn't afraid of very much, seeing as he was the kind of person who beat his fears into bloody pulps. Peter felt safe near him, like Gary wouldn't dare attack him when he was being escorted by such a powerful person, and he let his tense muscles slacken just a bit.

"Alright, I'll tell you, just not here…" Peter said with fear stinging at his words.

"Let's go get something to eat." Jimmy replied with as much kindness as he could muster, beckoning the other teen along with him.

Pete was guided off the grounds again, but this time by someone without malicious intentions, and was relieved that he was away from Gary's clutches. They went to the little burger place known for its cheap food and terrible service, Jimmy ordering himself something. When Pete refused to let him buy him anything, he shrugged, sitting on the curb and patting the space beside him.

Awkwardly, the smaller male sat next to him and pulled his knees to his chest, huffing unhappily. There was a thick silence, the kind that made the muscles in the back of Peter's neck tighten, then Jimmy turned towards his ally with a frown.

"Well?" He asked, raising one of his eyebrows expectantly.

"I was at Mrs. Phillips'." The younger replied, staring intensely at the ground.

"Jesus, you're not going to tell me you screwed her, are you?"

"N-no, it was nothing like that!" Pete replied with exasperation, red flooding his features, and Jimmy snickered, patting his back roughly.

"Gary got me drunk." His voice was much smaller, and he rested his mouth against his folded arms.

"That doesn't sound so bad."
"You kidding?" Peter eyed the bulky male with disbelief.

"Keep going."

"Mrs. Phillips found out about… Well, you know… And I-" He stopped, the sting of tears threatening at his temples.

"I left. With her."
"You didn't." There was shock, with a hint of fear on Jimmy's features.

"I'm screwed, aren't I?"

"That's an understatement, buddy." Jimmy stood, walking to stick his head into the tiny restaurant, having thought that he had been waiting for his food long enough.

Pete shuffled his feet, standing and brushing the front of his wrinkled top as straight as he could make it. It was too big for him, a stray dress shirt that his teacher had laying around for a reason he knew better than to ask about. His pants were his own, and had been crudely thrown into the wash the night before, but the shirt had blood down the front of it from when he had busted his lip, not even remembering how he had done it.

Jimmy turned towards him with a grin, holding his food, and they went to return to the grounds, wrapped in a much less stressful silence now that the worry wasn't quite as one-sided. Peter couldn't help but imagine his fate painted into the concrete below his feet, nothing but a red smear left after a horrific beat-down. He averted his eyes and saw himself hanging from his throat by one of the trees, writhing uselessly against the rope choking him to death.

A shiver ran up his spine when he realized that Gary was much more imaginative than he was. He was a schemer, and was probably scribbling incoherent plans into his journal. Plans that would have made a horror movie writer cringe, plans that would be studied by criminologists for ages to come.

"What do I do?" Peter tried tentatively, glancing up at the teen who was walking beside him.

"Hope he doesn't kill you. Or that he does, depending on how angry he is." Jimmy was no help at all, brutally honest to the bone.

Jimmy ate lunch near the front gate, not technically breaking any rules since he had already finished the class that period. Nobody really expected for Peter to be skipping anyways, so he was largely ignored. Jimmy made small talk about the ridiculous rumors that had spread the day before, then rambled on about the differences between certain kinds of underwear and how they made girls' asses look. Pete didn't listen to any of it, half trapped in gruesome visions of Gary's intentions, half wondering how he would avoid the said sadist when Jimmy had to go to class.

The bell rang, and they both walked back to the building with a solemn kind of understanding, Jimmy sorry for his frail friend, Peter terrified of being left alone at all. When they were at the doorway, the larger of the two turned to him and smiled half-heartedly, leaving the poor teen stranded in a sea of shoving and pushing.

Pete was trapped in his spot, the other people filing into their respective classrooms, and he felt a desperate chill slide through his body. His pulse crashed in his ears, and his blood seemed to run cold, muscles stiffening. He turned, expecting to meet icy brown orbs, but saw nothing but lockers.

Calm down, Peter, this is all in your head. He told himself, brushing his hands over his upper arms to try and mute the sudden frigidity. He was practically shivering as he made his way to his next class. At least there, he would be safe from Gary. The minute the dainty teen entered the room, he could feel the tingle of eyes on him, and he looked up at his teacher apologetically.

"You're late." Peter could have sworn that he was only waiting in the hallway for a couple of seconds.

"I-I'm sorry."

"Go to the office."

No. No, no, no, no, oh God please let him change his mind say something to stop him this cannot be happening-

"Okay."

He left because he wasn't strong enough to fight back, because he couldn't think of an argument to keep him from having to leave, especially with the nonsensical babbling that had been rushing through his head. He took the little pink slip that would have told the principal that he was late for class. That was, if Gary hadn't been after him.

He walked with rushed motions, turned a corner, pattered down the stairwell, huffed noisily with strain as he reached the bottom, and practically bolted towards the receptionist. It didn't work, though. There was an outstretched arm right in front of him, seemingly stabbing out from nowhere, and it caught him in the throat.

With a choking noise, Peter slipped on the tile floors, landing hard on his back. He looked at steel-toed boots, grey slacks, a teal sweater vest. He didn't make it to the face before there was a powerful kick landing on his ribcage, making him suck in air sharply and struggle in the other direction.

"Oh, no, Petey. You're not getting away. Not this time." There was a hand on the back of Peter's shirt, yanking him into a standing position, and he was dragged away roughly.

"I've been thinking about you." The older male purred, Pete struggling in vain to escape the hold he had on him.

He managed free for a moment, stumbling forward but catching himself. Before the smaller teen could take off as quickly as was humanly possible, there was an arm yanked around his throat, and he gagged uselessly. The little noises of his gasps made Gary grin with malice, continuing to drag him down the hall. He was wrenched into the boy's bathroom, the sadist quickly checking to see if anybody was there to witness his plan, smiling down at the thrashing boy when every stall came up empty.

"I've been thinking a lot, actually. About the bones in your fingers, how they'll sound if I pull backwards too much. We can have a little countdown."