Disclaimer; Language! Sex! Betrayal! Drinking, possibly underage! More sex, only this time, it's between two guys, and probably could be considered non-consensual! Suicide! Characters being taken apart and put back together unrecognizably (By which I mean, they may not be as represented in this story the same way that they are on the show, not that they get in to some freaky, sci-fi, medical experiment misadventures)! If all this – and more! – offends you or you are underage, I suggest turning around now, before you become involved in something not to your liking. The characters are property of Degrassi; The Next Generation, and anybody who owns the rights to said Degrassi. This story was written without permission, because even if I has asked they probably would have just looked at me weird and said no anyway. There is no profit being made by writing or posting this story.

Author's Note; I wrote this awhile ago, before I watched season four, so pretend you haven't seen it either. Also, I don't know how old anyone is on the show. I asked my obsessed cousin, and nearly fainted when she told me, because they seemed at least a year or two older than that (in my opinion anyway) So in this particular story, Jay is eighteen. Pretend he just graduated from high school a few months previous. Everyone else can be aged accordingly. Anything else that doesn't add up with the show and what we've learned from it, I apologize in advance, and ask that you remember that it's fiction anyway. Try not to hate me too much. There's a POV change every few seconds, but it wouldn't come out right any other way, so I'm sorry about that, too. I also apologize for the waytoolong notes. Here's the fic. Enjoy, or not. Either way, let me know, this is a new kind of writing for me and I'm curious as to whether or not I'm any good at it.

- Ickus -

It could have been a lot of things.

It could've been the past. It could have been the sight he'd witnessed earlier. It could've been the loss of his best friends. It could've been the last person on earth he wanted to have sex with. It could've been the eviction notice. It could've been the lack of money. It could have been the song on the radio. It could've been the broken brake line.

It was most likely a combination of all these things.

And somehow, he'd lived through it. The car itself was beyond recognition. It had hit the tree at nearly a hundred miles per hour, and immediately caught on fire. If he'd had the foresight to buckle his seat belt, he wouldn't have been ejected from the vehicle, and even without the fire his body would have been too entangled with the wreckage. The word "miracle" was used when they described it in the hospital.

If he could have thought about it, he probably would have thought life was better off without miracles.

Alex

Jay was hard to get along with. Alex would know. She went out with him for more than two years. She doesn't think she knows any more about him than she did the first night they met. Jay didn't like to talk about things. He just did things.

Alex can't say that Jay was a bad boyfriend, because he wasn't. He took care of her. He took her into his crew, and soon no one even tried messing with her, because they Knew. Jay would hunt them down. He gave her a place to go when she couldn't deal with her family. He gave her money when she needed it, although she knew he could barely afford taking care of himself with the money he made. She learned not to mention it, because Jay would never tell her anyway. Anytime she tried talking about anything, he would either change the subject or just kiss her until she shut up. The kissing led to touching, and touching led to the sex.

The sex made Alex feel weird inside. It was desperate. That's the only word she ever felt was the right one to describe the act. Desperation. Like Jay needed something, and that was the only way to get it. She was fairly sure he never got it, though. Soon their entire relationship consisted of him fucking her, hard and rough and over and over until he physically couldn't do it anymore. And still, he always seemed unsatisfied.

Alex wonders if it has something to do with the nightmares he has. She doesn't know exactly what he dreams about, and he gets moody when she asks him, so she just pretends to still be asleep when he wakes her up in the middle of the night, whimpering and fighting some invisible enemy she'll never know. She wants to help him, wants to make it go away, but he won't let her.

Alex thinks that's why she sleeps with Towerz. Because when she's with Towerz, it feels like he's there with her. Like he cares. Maybe he doesn't - Alex has thought about that, and she's decided she doesn't give a fuck if Towerz really cares about her, or if he's just pretending, because at least he pretends. He tries. Jay never even did that. Two years is a long time to be with someone without any sort of emotion. Two years is too long to still be a stranger. Alex is tired of the whole thing. Tired in that worn-out, empty kind of way.

She wants to end things with Jay, but despite her mean words and bad ass image, Alex is just as weak as everyone she hates. She's afraid of being alone, and she's afraid of losing the protection and money Jay provides. She knows it's wrong to use someone like that, but she also knows it's worse to be without it. And she tells herself, in the moments of guilt and doubt, that it really is better this way, because if she left, Jay would be alone, too. And if there's only one thing she's learned these past two years, it's that Jay doesn't handle things quietly and he certainly doesn't let things go.

So she stays with Jay and lets him fuck her until he can't stay awake anymore and then sleeps with his best friend behind his back so she can stay sane.

Jay

Jay didn't believe in trust or love, but he believed in his friends. He knows that was a mistake, now, after looking for Towerz. His fucking brakes were shot again, and he had to walk the whole way there. This did not please him.

He didn't bother knocking, because he's never knocked before. Towerz takes care of his younger siblings because his mother is rarely around, and Abby and Lucas know him well enough to just point him towards Towerz bedroom and ignore him. He stomps up the stairs, and pushes open the door.

He doesn't expect to see Alex there, although he knows they hang out sometimes while he's working. He doesn't care about that. And oddly enough, he doesn't really care that she's underneath his friend, and making noises he's never heard her make before.

He does care that his best friend would fuck his girlfriend. That's the height of betrayal, he knows that. He doesn't have to look very deeply into himself to know that Alex can't be blamed for what she does. He knows he's a sucky boyfriend, and part of him wishes he cares. The rest of him knows that even if he tries, he never will. Not about her.

But Towerz? Towerz is his pal, his accomplice, his bodyguard, someone to get drunk with and get in trouble with and not fuck each other's girlfriend's with.

He turns around and walks away, not waiting to see if they would notice. Jay suddenly wants nothing to do with either one of them.

Towerz

Towerz has known Jay for years. He knows more than he lets on. Towerz has learned that when you're quiet and observant, you learn a helluva lot about everyone around you. He's also learned that the less you let on, the better off you are, because it's a lot easier to deal with people when they don't know that you know them. Consider Jay, for instance. He knows Jay has severe fucking trust issues. It takes forever to get anywhere near him. Jay likes to be unaffected. That's why he doesn't even bother learning most people's names. Hell, it's been three years, and he's willing to bet Jay doesn't know anyone in the "Montreal Crew." Sean Cameron is the only exception to the rule. Towerz hasn't been able to figure out why Jay was so quick to let Sean into his life. Towerz has many suspicions about it, but nothing that he can solidly say for sure.

Towerz knows that Jay keeps his secrets safer than anything else, even his own life. Jay cares more about those damn secrets than the people he should love. That's why its Jay's fault that Towerz is slowly stealing Alex. He's wanted her all along, ever since he first saw her pull away from Jay's tongue long enough to glance over at him. Towerz has watched for two years, and seen the way she gets treated and pushed away. He stare at them while they made out, knowing they wouldn't notice because they're so involved with each other. He imagined himself there, what he would do differently. He'd be holding her more gently, for one. When you see past the attitude and sarcasm, Alex is really very delicate. Towerz wonders if she knows that, and dreams about showing her. He wanted to protect her, take care of her, love her, and now he is. And it's Jay's fault. He should have taken better care of her, made her feel loved and wanted so that she wouldn't have to turn to others to feel okay about herself. And in a way, it's like revenge for Towerz. Jay is the one with everything, the one with the brains, the one who always gets the girl. But now the girl is cheating on him, and Jay doesn't even know.

Towerz knows Jay the best, but there's a lot of things he doesn't know, only suspects. He doesn't know why Jay moved out of his father's house on his sixteenth birthday and never went back, but he suspects it has something to do with why Towerz was never invited over and why Jay flinches when people touch him unexpectedly.

Towerz is Jay's best friend, his first real friend, and he wonders if Jay knows that. He wonders if Jay would care, even if he did know that.

Jay

Normally, issues involving his relationship with Alex lead him to pulling Towerz away from what he's doing and getting drunk. That's not an option tonight, so Jay finds himself walking all the way to Sean's place. He hates walking, especially at night, and he mumbles the whole way there about how he didn't work his ass off to steal what he needed for his car just to walk all around town like a damn…walker. And how, if he hadn't handed his last twenty to his girlfriend this morning to pay for - something, a lunch bill maybe? Or gas? He really just remembered her complaining about not having money, so he gave it to her – he'd have enough money for a cab. Of course, his version contained more curse words, and Alex wasn't called a girlfriend so much as…well, other, less flattering, more graphic things. He glared and kicked things until finally, FINALLY he came to the home of his last friend.

Sean better be there, he thought to himself, because if I burned all those calories just to turn around and go home, I'm going to Be Pissed.

Sean

Sean isn't surprised to hear the knock on the door, but that doesn't mean he's excited about letting Jay in. Not that he has to worry, because Jay just walks right in like he usually does. He looks...different than usual, but Sean can't figure out why. There's a look in his eyes, barely there, but still noticeable, and Sean has never seen it.

"Come on," the taller one says, "I'm in the mood to get drunker than I've ever been."

"I can't." Sean answers him. He's not looking forward to explaining exactly WHY he can't go out with Jay like he normally would, because he knows Jay won't like it. And if there's one thing Sean has learned about Jay since they've become friends, it's that Jay does not accept the things he doesn't like. In fact, Jay's reactions to the things that don't please him are rarely quiet or non-violent. This time doesn't look to be an exception. Jay gives him a questioning look, and Sean is almost shocked from the desperation in it.

"It's just…Ellie…she…" He had this planned out, Dammit, but for some reason he can't say it right. He takes his hat off and runs his hands through his hair.

"Oh," Jay scoffs, "I see. The Queen of all that is Self-Inflicted thinks I'm a bad influence."

"Hey," Sean warns.

"No, I see. Heaven forbid should you anger someone who isn't even going to let you touch them in any area covered by a bathing suit. Nevermind, I'll drink alone." He leaves before Sean can think of a reply, slamming the door and probably pissing off the neighbors. Ellie calls to him from the living room to finish the stupid movie they were watching before Jay showed up and to please get her something to drink.

As he pours the soda, he wonders why Jay is drinking alone, instead of with Alex or Towerz. The thought is fleeting and by the time he puts the bottle back in the refridgerator, he's forgotten he even had it.

Jay

Jay walks as far as anger and frustration will take him, which is only far enough to be out of sight from Sean's. Then he drops to the sidewalk in exhaustion, and puts his head in his hands. This is easily the second worst night of his life, and considering all the truly horrible nights he's had in his eighteen years of life, that's really saying something.

He's never believed in self-pity, but he seriously considers sitting on the curb and feeling sorry for himself until he…dies, maybe. Or feels like walking home. Whichever comes first.

Two minutes into his "poor me" party, a car pulls up next to him, and a guy hollers out the window at him. Jay recognizes him as a nameless someone from some class he took forever and a year ago, but more importantly he recognizes him as someone he doesn't completely hate telling him about a party "full of chick, babes, hotties and beer" at some dorm down at the college. He picks himself up, opens the passenger door, gets in and makes mindless small talk until they arrive at a brick building full of people, and more importantly, alcohol.

Dylan

Dylan can't say he likes Jay. Can't say he ever has. To be truthful – and Dylan usually is, because he's a GOOD KID, after all – Dylan kind of hates Jay. Which is weird, because he likes to think of himself as a relaxed, mellow, all-loving kind of guy. Hate is an unusual emotion for him, but then again, most emotions are. Dylan doesn't feel things very strongly, if at all. He tries – like the time he tried to feel lust for females, or the time he tried to feel sorry for that friend of Paige's who's boyfriend put her in the hospital, or the time he tried to love Marco Del Rossi – but he just doesn't. So naturally, the depth of emotion he feels for Jay Hogart is startling.

Dylan has a fantasy, one he would die before sharing with anybody, but the idea makes him hot all over and Hard. So hard that if he doesn't work himself NOW then he might be the first recorded Death By Boner ever. The details change every time he closes his eyes and starts moving his hand, but in the end, it's the same. He's teaching Jay the all-important lesson of just who Exactly is the BadAss now. He wants to wipe that smirk off a hundred different ways and then make Jay beg Dylan to fuck him. And oh, how he would…

Afterwards, when Dylan comes down from his self-induced afterglow, he wonders what the people who know him would do if they knew what he really thought about. If they knew he wasn't so mellow and all loving after all.

And when Dylan looks over the rim of his red plastic cup and sees Jay walk through the front door of the same party that he himself is at, looking defeated and vulnerable and yet still Oh So Tough, he grins to himself before chugging the last of his beer. Because behind the blonde curls and shining blue eyes is a devious mind.

Jay

Jay walks in the door, and finds himself pushing through a crowd of people. Some girl in a mussed up dress stumbles into him and nearly spills her drink, but he catches it and downs it in one gulp. It's warm, flat and wonderful. He hands her the cup back and moves on, barely aware of her giggling behind him. He wonders where the drinks are coming from, but doesn't want to waste time looking, so while he wanders around he picks up any that he sees just lying around.

After about twenty minutes he's starting to relax and the music – some technodancesomethingorother that he wouldn't listen to normally – starts to appeal to him. Jay finds himself moving his shoulders in time to the music and realizes what a great dancer he is, even if – despite his best efforts – he's a white boy. He doesn't waste time thinking about dancing though, because wonder of wonders, he's arrived in front of a crowd of tall, muscled guys in matching letter jackets standing around a table. A table piled with bottles of shapes and sizes, an alcoholic treasure chest, and Jay feels like crying out with joy. Luckily, he's still sober enough to realize how pathetic that would be and instead grabs a half-empty bottle of tequila. He takes a mouthful as he walks away, and nearly spits it out. He fucking hates tequila, but after a few minutes things are kind of hazy and the taste doesn't bother him so much. He's slipping, and he's starting to wonder why. Compared to what he normally drinks, he shouldn't be this buzzed yet. Too late, he realizes that stealing drinks from what are most likely under aged girls means he may have inadvertently gotten some roofies into his system.

The idea of date raping himself causes him to laugh out loud, and have to grab the wall before he falls over. It takes him a while to compose himself long enough to walk steadily. He doesn't want to look like a lightweight, who can't even hold their alcohol after only a few drinks. He makes fun of those people.

Dylan

Dylan has been watching Jay since he got there. Not blatantly, but he keeps tabs on him, watching him steal drinks, watches him jerk around to the obnoxiously loud music, watches him steal a bottle from the Kappa's guarding the table (well, as much guarding as you can do while trying to organize a wet tee shirt contest) and watches him wander around. In the meantime, Dylan finds people to talk to within viewing range of Jay. Dylan may be emotionless, manipulative and a homosexual, but that's never stopped him from being popular in high school, and it certainly didn't stop him from being popular in college. People keep talking to him when he starts conversations. This is only one of the many times it's worked out conveniently for him.

The guy from his effective speaking class last year is in the middle of some drawn out story about something boring when Jay stops in the his tracks and starts laughing. Dylan is surprised to note that he's never seen Jay laugh like that before, usually he sneers or something. He looks…different.

Jay grabs onto the wall, and leans on it until he stops chuckling. He takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes, and for whatever reason, Dylan decides that NOW is the moment to do something.

He walks away from the still talking guy, who is luckily too smashed to realize he's being blown off and cause a scene. He speeds up a little when Jay starts walking again, staggering all over the place. Dylan is amazed by how much he's been affected by so little alcohol, and wonders if maybe Jay was drinking before he showed up.

Jay is walking down a hallway, away from the majority of the crowd, and Dylan grins to himself, because this was going more perfectly than if he had written and directed it himself.

Jay

Jay doesn't know where he's going, but at some point while getting there he realized he hadn't been in this building before. He decided to take a tour.

His travel plans were cut short when hot breath on the back of his neck makes him realize he's been followed. He stops abruptly, and it causes the person behind him to press closer. The person is taller than him, and wider, but most of all, he's warm. That seems important, but Jay doesn't know why, and he doesn't think about it when he turns around and sees Dylan. Dylan Fucking Michalchuk.

"Hey," the blonde greets him, like they've been friends forever, maybe more. Jay gets a flash of what that might have been like, if he'd been nice to Dylan and instead of making fun of his gayness, he had just shrugged, and they held hands as they skipped off to…the mall, maybe, or something that friends did. Being friends with a person so full of goodness and light like Dylan would probably have made things turn out vastly different.

"YOU'D never fuck my girlfriend behind my back," he says to Dylan. Dylan raises an eyebrow. "Or let your girlfriend tell you I'm bad for your health."

"Well…" Dylan doesn't seem to know how to answer that. "No, I guess not..."

"I'd at least have someone to drink with me right now." Jay squints at the bottle in his hand, and finishes what's left. Suddenly, he feels tired, and he just sits down on the floor and closes his eyes.

Dylan

In retrospect, Dylan isn't sure what he expected. A fight, maybe. Sarcasm, at least, or a battle of insults ending in passionate kissing, although he's not sure why THAT seemed to be a likely outcome. Either way, he didn't expect Jay to go on the way he did. Like they talked about this stuff all the time.

And then Jay just dropped to the floor, and for a second Dylan thought he'd passed out, and while that would have made things easier, he would have preferred for Jay to pass out on his bed and not a flight of stairs and across the building away. Then he realizes that Jay is just sitting there with his eyes closed and he breathes a sigh of relief. Then he crouches down so he's almost eye level with the brunette, but Jay still has to look up at him if he wants to see him. It's one of those little power things that Dylan absolutely adores.

"Bad night?" He says, because he can't think of anything else. Jay nods. "Tell me about it." Jay shakes his head, then braces his hands on the floor so he doesn't fall over. Dylan likes that. "Well, at least tell me what you were laughing about a little while ago."

Jay grins and opens his eyes. He looks up at Dylan through insanely long lashes, and licks his lips, and he just looks. So. Fuckable, that Dylan almost doesn't even hear what he says, except what Jay ends up saying is "I realized that anybody could just walk up, have their wicked way with me, and I would let them." And just like that, the moment was forever imprinted into Dylan's brain, and he KNEW he'd end up masturbating to it for a long, long time.

"Really?" Dylan says, and grins. "Even me?" Jay nods, and then he seems to realize the absurdity of the situation, because he bursts out laughing. Dylan watches him, and against his will, he memorizes that moment as well.

He inches closer and stares. He's waiting, and this is the most fun he's had since he can remember. Jay is still laughing to himself, and it makes him look younger, free, and every other cliché you can come up with. Dylan suddenly wants him to stop, because it's hard to take advantage of someone like that, so he leans over and kisses him.

Jay doesn't kiss back, but he doesn't fight him, so Dylan presses his lips a little bit harder and waits. When Jay still doesn't do anything, Dylan pulls back and looks at him. He's stopped laughing, and just stares back with a questioning look on his face.

"Why would you kiss me?" He asks, and it's funny, how it's not accusing or panicky like Dylan would expect. It's just curiosity, and wonder.

Dylan shrugs and grins. "Why not?"

"I've never been nice to you," Jay says, "I've always made fun of you, and…"

"Exactly," Dylan mumbles under his breath, and he's already sick of talking about it. When he planned this out, Jay didn't ask questions or look at him like that. He just shut up and did what he was told. Dylan doesn't know what else to do, so he just kisses him again, and this time, he finally gets a response.

Jay

Jay doesn't know why Dylan is still hanging around with him, but he makes him laugh. After the night he's had, laughing feels way too good to give up. And when Dylan kisses him, Jay stops laughing, but he still feels good. When Dylan kisses him the second time, Jay kisses back, and it feels better. So much better that Jay is shocked, because he has to admit he's thought about kissing Dylan before. Completely against his will, of course, because who can control dreams? And dreams about being fucked by the kid he supposedly hates, believe it or not, are WAY better than the dreams about being locked in a dark closet for hours on end, with noises and crawly things and no one caring how loud he screamed. Over the course of the past few years, he's forced himself to put them out of his mind, but then Dylan leaned over and dragged them all out, and that's why they're making out in a dormitory hallway.

All this logic goes through his head in the way that drunken logic does, and while a part of him tries to remind him about the Evil that is the Gays, a hand at the back of his neck and a tongue licking at his closed lips shuts that part up way more effectively than any tolerance speech at a school assembly ever could.

Jay feels himself losing track of time, and wonders how long they've been like this. He feels kind of dizzy, and pulls his mouth away to breathe. Dylan licks his way to his ear, and that feels as good as the kissing thing, and he still feels dizzy. Dylan doesn't help when he traces the outside of his ear with his tongue and then asks him in a whisper if he likes it. Jay can't talk, he just closes his eyes and nods.

Right about then is when things started to get fuzzy. He remembers flashes of things more than anything, he remembers being tugged into a standing position. Remembers walking a little ways. Remembers stumbling on some stairs. Remembers being pushed up against a wall, and reaching out, grabbing Dylan's striped shirt and pulling him as close as he could so he could feel lips on his own again, because it seemed like it had been way too long since the last time. Remembers sucking on the side of Dylan's neck while he unlocked a door. Remembers the feeling of falling, until he landed on something soft. Remembers that first incredible feeling of sparks, heat and friction when Dylan finally grinds their hips together. Remembers shivering from air cooling his heated skin when Dylan rips his clothes away from him. Remembers…pain. A lot of pain. But then not so much pain. Remembers arching suddenly and nearly screaming when something inside him turned on and everything just. Felt. So. Good. Until even when he closed his eyes all he saw was brightness and light.

That's the last thing he remembers before he woke up.

Dylan

Dylan gets Jay moving upstairs, because if he passes out, he doesn't think he'll be able to get him up there alone. And explaining to his fellow hockey teammates why, exactly, he needed help carrying an unconscious body to his bedroom in the middle of the night wasn't something he was sure would work. The guys had been relatively cool with him being gay, but he was pretty sure that this would stretch the limits of tolerance. Jay doesn't do much to help, stumbling over the stairs so many times that Dylan almost gives up and lets him tumble down. He doesn't though, and after all the effort needs to catch his breath. He directs Jay to the wall so he doesn't fall down, but apparently his plan should have involved telling him so, because Jay grabs his shirt and pulls him along, kissing him hard and Dylan can't help it, he kisses back.

Finally, they get to his room, and Dylan thanks all the Gods responsible for giving him his own room this year, and as an afterthought, he asks those same Gods to give him the control not to completely embarrass himself if Jay keeps doing that thing with his tongue to his neck, where he's always been particularly sensitive, and WHY WON'T THE KEY WORK?!

It does, eventually, and Dylan shuts and locks it behind him. He grabs Jay, and shoves his tongue in his mouth. It feels good, and he's absolutely delighted by the noises coming from Jay's throat. It gives him another power rush, and that's almost as much of a turn on as

INSERT NC – 17 SCENE HERE

He comes to the conclusion that he's glad he'll be able to see Jay's reaction when he wakes up and realizes what he's done. Dylan turns off the small lamp, the only light on in the room, crawls back into bed and pulls the blankets over them. Jay suddenly rolls over, and Dylan finds himself half covered. Guess it's a good thing I sleep on my back, he thinks to himself, and settles himself in as best as he can. He's still relaxed, and in the afterglow, but he's not tired. After a few minutes, he realizes that he's been stroking his fingers through Jay's hair and forces himself to stop. This isn't Marco, he scolds himself, You don't need to make Jay feel loved or wanted or anything. It was revenge. You HATE him. You got amazing sex out of him, and caused irreparable damage that will probably last a lifetime. Congratulations, go to sleep.

And after awhile, he does.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

And that is that. All I did with the nc-17 stuff was delete it, if you want to read it, I'll make livejournal or somthing, jus let me know. I have plans and ideas for another part to this, if only to explain the first paragraph, but it's four in the morning now, and I'm not motivated to write it yet. It's good though, all sorts of drama involved. Good times, I guess. Anyway, let me know if it sucked, or if it didn't, or if you're lonely and just want to talk. Either way.