Fenton keeps tipping his head back and I know from experience that only makes it a thousand times worse. He makes a squeak when I reach for him but it's only to get his attention.

"Keep your head down," I tell him, gently pushing down on the back of his head. "Seriously, you're only making it worse by keeping your head back. You'll end up swallowing a fuck ton of blood and that's just gonna make you want to vomit later on."

He casts a glance toward me before nodding, still keeping a hand clamped around his nose. I don't know why. The damage is done, it's not like his nose is gonna fall off or anything.

Fenton makes a small noise before turning toward me, letting out a soft breath. "S-So, was Kwan telling the truth? Y-Your calf's bothering you again?"

I almost forget to lie but catch myself before I start blathering on about something ridiculous. "Uh… yeah, a little, I guess," I respond, dropping my gaze to my leg. It was during one of the last games of the season. I was running toward the ball and I fucking swear it was the best kick of my football life. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, that play was amazing.

As soon as I kicked the ball, I felt the pop in the back of my leg and I hit the field before I was able to even process I was going down. Everything hurt all at once and I wasn't able to think straight. I don't know if Fenton was at that game or not but most of the town was. I got a shit ton of get well cards and gifts in the following days.

He nods, looking toward me but not really meeting my eyes. "I-I hope it stops bothering you soon. I don't w-want you to miss playing this season," he says softly, the slight tremor to his voice obvious in the silence.

I shrug, looking out toward the parking lot as we trudge our way toward the school. The football field is at least a good ten minute walk away from the main building but at least the locker rooms are close. If they weren't, I'm not sure I would have made the trek out here after getting changed.

"Y-You were walking kinda stiffly earlier," Fenton says softly, his gaze cast downward when I look at him. He keeps his hand clamped around his nose and I look away, letting out a low breath. The fact that someone I barely talk to noticed means it's probably fucking obvious as hell to the people that I do talk to. Fuck.

I run a hand through my hair, trying to forget the look on Jeff's face when he saw the bruises spread across my ribs like a roadmap to what goes on behind closed doors. That's great. Exactly what I need. Someone else to figure out this fucked up part of my life. "Yeah, well… I was trying to ignore it cause I thought I was still gonna try out today."

Fenton exhales softly when we reach the front doors and for a second, he meets my gaze. "Um… j-just don't push yourself. If you injure yourself worse, yo-you'll just make it harder to come back from," he mumbles, looking away from me. He reaches for the door handle but I grab it first, brushing by his hand to get it.

"Sure," I respond, wondering just when the hell Dr. Fenton checked in.


Nurse Soucie looks troubled when we step into the office but it's mainly cause Fenton's clutching his face and mine looks like I got into a fight with a blender and the damn thing won.

She looks between the two of us for a second before deciding on Fenton first. "Come here, sweetie," she says, gesturing for him to sit in one of the chairs. "Let me see your nose." She tsks when Fenton slowly releases his face after settling in the chair. "Well, it's stopped bleeding. But it's definitely broken." Soucie gently tilts his face from side to side before standing up.

"Didn't expect to see you back here so soon," she says, turning toward the sink to gather a ball of paper towels. I lean against the doorframe and watch as Fenton's hands slowly curl tighter around his backpack and he lets out a small breath.

Soucie wets the paper towels before holding them out toward Fenton, instructing him to gently clean the blood off his face, handing him a mirror when he takes the paper towels from her. When she's satisfied with the way he's getting the blood off, she turns to me, raising an eyebrow. "What happened to your face?"

Fenton's gaze flicks up toward me but I keep mine trained on Soucie, forcing my face to stretch into a grin. "Well, you see… some guy was hitting on my girl, y'know? And what was I supposed to do? Let him get away with everything he was saying?" I gesture to myself. "Do I look like the kinda guy who'd just let him walk away? Nah, I had to take care of him."

Soucie rolls her eyes at my story and I remember the lie. "Though my calf is bothering me so coach Brimfield said I should have it checked out," I say, flicking my eyes toward Fenton. He's watching the two of us but quickly drops his gaze when I look his way, returning to scraping crusted blood off his upper lip.

"Lay down, let me get a look at it." Soucie gestures to the cot next to Fenton's chair, letting out a sigh. "I swear. You athletes are always pulling or tearing your muscles. You push yourselves too hard."

I climb up onto the table and let her examine my leg, knowing that she won't find anything. When she asks if it hurts, I lie and say only a bit when she applies pressure. She tells me to ice it before bed for the next three nights and see how it is.

The phone rings in the adjacent room and Soucie looks up at the noise, sighing before leaving to go check on it, telling us both to stay put. Considering my dad's the chief of police, they don't call him when I'm in the nurses office. For a while, it was my mom but they obviously can't do that anymore. When they had me fill out my information this year, I had to update my emergency contacts. Alex is first. Dad second.

As soon as Soucie leaves the room, I stretch out onto the cot, exhaling heavily. I turn my head toward where Fenton's sitting and catch his eye. His gaze drops quickly and he stands to throw away the paper towels, leaving his backpack on the floor. Fenton's steps are slow and he seems to hesitate between movements, like he's not sure what he's doing. After he sets the mirror back on the counter, he seems to realize there's nothing else for him to do so he slowly returns to the chair, his hands clenching around one another.

"You doing alright?" I ask, flicking my gaze toward the ceiling when he looks my way. He seems to find eye contact nerve-wracking so I just keep my eyes away from him. If it makes him more comfortable, I just won't look at him right now. "Your face hurt?"

Fenton lets out a breath, sinking down into the chair again. "Y-Yeah, a little," he says softly and I feel his gaze turn on me again. He's watching my face and I keep my eyes turned toward the ceiling, studying the tiled surface, listening to the way the fluorescents hum. It's not like he'll be able to tell anything about what happened. "Um… w-were you telling the nurse the truth? D-Did you really get into a fight?"

I run a hand down my face, feeling the pads of my fingers press into each bruise, the pain enough to keep me from getting rattled. "Yeah, you know how some guys are. I couldn't let him walk away with the shit he was saying."

Fenton's still staring at me and I draw my arms over my head, letting out a breath. I guess it hadn't really hit me until now but this thing I've had with Paulina for the past year and half is over. In just one weekend, she ended everything we'd ever been. I think up until now I've been pretending that it's possible we could pick up the broken pieces of us and somehow glue it all back together. But… that's not going to happen. Because I know that she's right. It hurts. Fucking burns. But I know it. I'm not the guy people stay with. Mom couldn't. Dad can barely stand me on my good days. Even Alex wants to get rid of me.

"H-Hey, Dash?" Fenton asks, his voice small. It's not enough to pull me completely from my thoughts so I just turn my head toward him, my eyes never leaving the ceiling. I don't want to talk, I just want to drown in my thoughts and make myself miserable for a little while longer. "U-Um… your stomach…"

My heart slams into overdrive and I scramble to cover my stomach, pulling the hem of my shirt down as I sit upright. Fear is rippling through me again and my hands are shaking. Fuck, no. My arms are shaking. It's not contained to my wrists anymore and waves of panic wash through me.

It hits me that I could have passed it off with some flippant comment. I could have told him that he should see what the other guy looks like. But it's too late for me to pretend this isn't a big deal. Fenton knows he wasn't supposed to see the bruises there and I've made it so fucking obvious that it's a secret. That it's supposed to stay quiet.

"Shit," I mumble, running a hand through my hair. I don't want to have this conversation with him. I don't want to try to scramble for a lie while my body is flying into panic mode. I can't do this. There's nothing for me to say to turn this around. He won't believe me now if I say it's because of the guy and Paulina and the whole-oh god. Am I breathing?

I suck in a breath and it sounds strangled. I guess the noise is enough to startle Fenton cause he leaves his seat. His hands tremble when they touch my shoulder but his grip is stronger than I thought it would be. "D-Dash, it's okay. Just breathe, okay? Y-You're panicking, just breathe. B-Bow your head and count for me, okay? Can you do that?"

All I can manage is a weak nod but Fenton takes that as a yes and keeps instructing me. Tells me to inhale to the count of seven, hold for four, and breathe out to the count of eight. I do as he tells me to, carefully measuring each breath and slowly the trembling returns to just my hands. And it's a mild tremor at that.

Fenton's hands stay on my shoulders until I look at him and then he quickly moves from in front of me, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck. I don't know how the fuck he knows what to do in a situation like this but somehow him backing off makes me feel more at ease. Like he won't push for answers unless I bring it up.

"Th-Thanks, Fenton," I respond, running a hand through my hair. I'm slowly breathing normally again and it's nice not to be reduced to the shakes for the rest of the day. "Where'd you uh… where'd you learn that?"

His eyes reach mine again and he shrugs. "I-I don't know. Something I've just picked up along the way," he says softly, dropping his stare down to the floor. The silence only lasts a second before he speaks, his words carefully chosen. "It's… Danny, by the way." He flicks his gaze up to me for a second and he slowly lets out a breath, running his hands down the sides of his jeans. "I-I prefer Danny."

Fenton, Danny, meets my eyes again, offering a small smile. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and nod, looking around the room before I say anything. "Alright… Danny." It's weird to say his first name, I've been calling him Fenton for as long as I can remember. But whatever, it's his name and he did just save me from embarrassing myself in front of anyone. "Thanks."

He nods, his smile a little less timid now. He grabs his backpack up from the floor and pulls it onto his shoulders one arm at a time before meeting my gaze again, some kind of mischief gleaming in his eyes. "So. What do you say we skip PE and go get something to eat?"

I have to admit, it sounds a hell of a lot more fun than returning to the field and watching the newbies try out. I slide off the cot, grinning back at him. "Hell yeah."


Soucie makes us promise that we'll come back if either one of us starts feeling any worse before she lets us go. Danny keeps up with me and I can't tell which one of us is slowing down for the other. With the way my ribs ache, I'd guess it's him, but he's walking with a slight limp. I'd ask about it but it's really not any of my business.

"You wanna hit up the Nasty Burger?" Danny asks, glancing at me. He seems to hold my stare a little longer each time but in the end, he's always the one to look away. "I think they still have the summer deal going."

I don't care about the money. I just don't want to head down to the Nasty Burger cause that's pretty populated during the day and I don't want any adult knowing that we're out of school. I gesture toward my car when Danny looks for it.

"The black one," I say, steering him toward it. We part when we reach my car and I get into the driver's side, waiting for him to climb inside before I speak. "The Nasty Burger is fine but it's probably gonna be pretty packed right now and someone's bound to notice that we're out of school."

Danny seems to mull this over for a minute before nodding, clicking his seatbelt into place. "Okay… then I know a place." He glances toward me, his eyes not reaching mine. "D-Do you want me to put it into your GPS?"

I shake my head, fastening my seatbelt across my chest before starting the car. "Don't have GPS," I respond, backing out of the parking space. "You'll just have to tell me when to turn," I say, and when I look at him, he's holding my gaze. It only lasts for a split second but his face turns several shades darker when he looks away from me.

The engine under my Mitsubishi hums as we pull out of the parking lot and I throw another glance toward Danny. "Just so you know… if you bleed all over my car, I'll have to kill you," I say, grinning when he looks my way. He smiles hesitantly but laughs after a few seconds.

"Okay, I'll remember that."

We fall silent on the drive wherever he's taking me and I turn the car when he tells me to. The brakes squeal and I wince, shooting a glance toward Danny. "Sorry. Been meaning to fix them for a while now, just keep putting it off." It's not exactly a lie. I've just been putting off dealing with dad after fixing them. I kinda want to keep things between us pretty calm for the next several days. It'll be nice not to have to worry about coming home every night. If I don't fix my brakes, he won't have a reason to be angry with me.

Danny's quiet as I take the turn and only when we're down a long stretch of road does he look my way. "You… You're still working at Alex's garage?" he asks, his Adam's apple bobbing when I turn to him with a nod.

"Yeah," I respond, focusing my gaze on the road again. I can barely remember a time in my life when I wasn't working with Alex. It's weird to think about my life before I got to be around cars all the time. Shit, it doesn't even feel like a job, it feels more like a hobby.

I steal a glance at Danny but he's staring pretty determinedly at his lap. I'm guessing he has more to say about the job. "Why? You need your car fixed?"

His eyes shift up to mine and he nods. "Y-Yeah, actually. I was planning on bringing it in this week… wh-what days are you working?" he asks, his voice quiet as he searches my face.

"I don't know yet." Alex probably won't let me work until my injuries are cleared up and that probably won't be for several more days. Which means I won't be working until at least Thursday. "I'm gonna be there by the weekend at least. Hopefully by Thursday but I don't know what Alex is gonna say about that," I tell him, running a hand through my hair.

"B-Because of your calf?" Danny asks.

He's already seen the extent of my injuries but I don't want to explain that yeah, I'm sitting out this week cause it hurts too much to stretch or move. "Nah," I respond, letting out a breath. I don't like thinking about missing work because I'm too fragile to handle a few cars or spare parts. "He just wants me to focus on my senior year before I jump back into work. Not that it matters, I'll have this same job when high school's over."

Danny looks at me, his eyebrows drawing downward. "You're not… leaving Amity Park after high school?" he asks, almost sounding surprised. It takes me a second to remember that he's not in the know and I haven't told anyone really that I'm still not doing anything after high school. Well, working on cars isn't doing nothing but still. It's probably doing less than 'my true potential' as Alex likes to remind me every so often.

"No." I want to look over, gauge his reaction from his expression, but I don't. I keep my eyes focused out the windshield. There's a fork in the road about half a mile up and I exhale. "Alright, which way do we turn?"

He doesn't respond and we're close to the point where we need to start making a decision. I glance at him. "Danny?" He lifts his eyes to my face but doesn't say anything. Danny's expression is thoughtful and while I hate to interrupt him, I gesture toward the road with one hand. "Dude, which way do we turn?"

Danny meets my eyes for a second or two before he looks away, letting out a breath that sounds like he was holding it longer than the few seconds he wasn't talking. "Right, Dash. Turn right."

I turn the car right at the fork and we'red driving down an old road I can only remember being down once or twice when I was a kid. The pavement gives out about ten minutes after we turn and we're bumping along on an old dirt road. My attention shifts from Danny's quiet behavior to the state of my tires. If I thought my brakes were bad on paved roads, they're fucking screaming on this one.

"Uhh… how much farther?" I ask, my eyes watching for a break in the wooded area. Where the fuck is he taking me? I glance toward him but he's still silent, staring out the window. I tap my hands against the steering wheel, letting out a low whistle. "So… this is where you take people to kill them, huh? Not bad, Danny. You picked a pretty out of the way location. Even got some woods to bury my ass when you're done gutting me."

Danny lets out a snort, rolling his eyes when I look back to him. "Just drive," he replies. With a rev of the engine and a wicked grin, I do.


A/N: These boys are precious gems.

Thank you for reading and I really hope you're enjoying it up to this point! Things are slowly starting to pick up and Danny's an interesting character to play around with. I used to write a lot of stories from Danny's POV so it's weird being outside of his. Good weird though, I'm still enjoying this and I really hope you are too!

Let me know what you think in the reviews or send me a message - your words are very encouraging!