Games and Sports, task 5: Write about a physical fight

Word Count: 1195

Warnings: homophobia, violence, hate crimes


"But did you see Mr. Grisham?" Dudley asks, nearly falling over with laughter. "Mate, what was wrong with his moustache? D'ya reckon he shaved in the dark this morning?"

And Piers laughs along because it's what he's supposed to do. He has been Dudley's sidekick for almost his whole life. Laughing and following his lead has become second nature to him. It doesn't matter that he doesn't particularly care about Mr. Grisham's unfortunate shave and trim. It's what he does because he doesn't want to disappoint Dudley.

"Was that his moustache?" Piers laughs, making a face to show his disgust about something he hadn't even noticed. "I thought he had a fuzzy caterpillar under his nose."

It isn't the best comeback, and it's more childish than he wants it to be, but it's all he can manage.

They round the corner onto Magnolia Crescent when they hear the all-too-familiar sound of knuckles striking against flesh. Up ahead, he can see familiar black curls, and his heart sinks. A boy, older than Piers but probably not even eighteen yet, holds Max's arms behind his back, preventing him from moving. A second boy laughs as he slams his knuckles against Max's face. Even from this distance, Piers can see the spray of blood as his cousin's lip splits.

"Fucking queer!" the one throwing the punches says with a sneer. "No one wants you here!"

"Yeah! Fairies are for Ireland, not England, ya poof!" the second boy laughs.

There's something unspoken between Piers and Dudley. Neither discusses a plan, but they both know what to do. They drop their books and bags to the ground and charge forward. Piers' long legs make him faster, but Dudley's not far behind him.

Max's assailants don't seem to expect anyone to come to their victim's defense. Most days, no one would. If this had happened even an hour earlier, Max might have been beaten to death before Piers got home.

Piers shakes his head, the thought causing his blood to boil with anger. But there's something else too, some heaviness that sinks into his stomach; he swallows it down and pushes it away because he can't let his emotions get the best of him. Not now, not with Max bleeding and bruised on the pavement in front of their home.

Dudley cries out as they approach. It's enough to catch them off guard. The one holding Max lets him go, throwing his arms up, ready to fight. Normally, Piers would take him on, but he doesn't care about fighting today. Max is lying on the ground in a pitiful heap, barely able to even lift his head; he is Piers' priority.

He drops quickly, he jeans tearing against the pavement. Seconds later, Dudley tackles the one who had done the punching. A scuffle ensues, but Piers doesn't pay it any mind. He's vaguely aware of retreating footsteps, and a quick glance over his shoulder tells him that the one who had held Max down has taken off. Coward, Piers thinks.

The idiots wouldn't have dared to lay a finger on Max if they had known they would be interrupted. They're pathetic, spineless, miserable little shits, and Piers would love to wring their necks. He just takes comfort in the sounds of Dudley pounding his fists against his opponent's face. It isn't justice, but it will have to do.

"Come on," Piers says, carefully wrapping an arm around his cousin-turned-guardian and guiding him to his feet. "There we go. Bend your knee just a bit."

Once he knows Max can move, he escorts him into the yard. "C'mon, D," he calls. "Leave him."

He doesn't look back to see if Dudley listens to him. If his friend decides to spend a few extra seconds teaching the wannabe thug a lesson, Piers isn't going to argue.

Max's face is marbled with bruises, sickening shades of blue and purple juxtaposed against his pale skin and swallowing his freckles. His bottom lip is split, and there are specks of dried blood around his chin.

Dudley's knuckles are swollen and bruised, but he doesn't seem to notice until Piers brings him an ice pack. "If I ever see those two again…" Dudley trails off, shaking his head. Piers doesn't want to imagine what he'll do.

"Did you know them?" Piers asks, sitting across from his cousin. "What did they want?"

Max gives him a look that's almost amused. "I'm gay, Piers," he says. "They wanted me to stop being gay."

"Well, that's stupid," Dudley says with a roll of his eyes. "Why do they care?"

"Because some people can't handle others being different," Max answers, sighing heavily. "They try to beat away the otherness."

And there it is again. There's the heaviness in his stomach, the unnamed emotion that had been buried beneath his anger. It's painfully familiar.

Guilt.

Isn't he just as bad as those blokes? Hasn't he held people down so that Dudley and the others could beat them up? Christ, how many times had he participated in Harry hunting when they were younger?

He climbs to his feet, pulling a cigarette from his shirt pocket. Max gives him a disapproving look, but he doesn't tell him no. "I need some fresh air."

"Smoking defeats the purpose of fresh air," Max says dryly.

He's halfway done with his cigarette when Dudley joins him at the side of the house. "You look like something's bothering you, mate," Dudley says, brows raising curiously. "Everything okay?"

"Those blokes who jumped Max… They were bastards," Piers says, exhaling smoke and passing the cigarette to Dudley.

"Absolute assholes," Dudley agrees before fitting the cigarette between his lips and taking a drag.

"We aren't good people either," Piers says, his voice barely above a whisper. "We've hurt people like that before."

Dudley looks like he wants to argue. He's quiet for several moments, steadily puffing away until the filter burns. "We're not like them," he says, dropping the remains of the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his trainer. "You know we aren't."

Dudley doesn't sound so certain, and Piers doesn't blame him. No one wants to be the bad guy, but maybe they are sometimes. Maybe they're the villains in someone else's story.

"We should go back in," Piers says, pushing himself forward off the wall. "Gotta keep an eye on Max."

Piers doesn't know what to do with this revelation. He doesn't want to think that he is like those people, that he would ever hurt someone the way Max has been hurt. The things he's done have just been childish things, just fooling around and doing whatever his friends do.

But maybe those blokes started the same way. Maybe they never learned to leave the hatred behind and become better people. What would things have been like if they had?

He knows he needs to let go. Cruelty hasn't felt right to him in so long. It's time to change.

As he returns to the kitchen and fetches some pain tablets for his cousin, he makes a promise to himself. One way or another, he will make sure he never becomes like them.