The walk home would be awkward if it was anyone but us. We've known each other's shit so long that it's like second nature to fall into easy conversation. Kwan's responses are quiet and not as quick as mine are but I keep him talking and I can see the tension ease from his face after a few minutes.

We walk the rest of the way back to his house and while I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I have to say it. "Listen man," I start, coming to a stop beside my car. He glances back toward me with a raise of his eyebrows and I drop my gaze. "I gotta get home and get a change of clothes."

Kwan shakes his head almost instantly. "No. I'll loan you something to wear," he says, gesturing toward his house. "Come on, my mom's probably already up making breakfast."

I let out a sigh but follow after him, lured by the promise of food more than the offer of borrowing clothes from him again. "Kwan, I have to go home at some point." I can't spend the rest of my senior year hiding out in the hopes that dad will never find me.

Kwan turns back toward me with a shrug. "Fine, we'll go to your place after breakfast," he says like the decisions been made. I don't need him to come with me and hold my hand. It's not like it was when I was a kid and I was actually terrified of my dad. I can handle this shit now.

"I can go by myself," I say as he opens the front door. There was a time when I needed Kwan to walk home with me because I was scared of what would be waiting for me, but I'm not scared anymore. I just know how to dodge his fists better.

"I know. But I'm not letting you," Kwan responds, stepping through the front door. I follow him and I can smell pancakes the second I step inside. Aw shit, they smell fucking amazing. I push the door closed behind me and follow Kwan into the kitchen.

He kisses his mom on the cheek and moves around her to snag a handful of chocolate chips. She swats at his hand but he makes off with the chocolate anyway, throwing it into his mouth as soon as he's out of her reach.

Mrs. Young stirs the batter before glancing over her shoulder at the two of us. "How was your run, boys?" she asks, her gaze quickly on the food again. She adds chocolate chips to the batter before pouring it into the pan.

The smell drifts into the air and Kwan leans against the counter, still chewing the chocolate. He looks toward me, almost a silent plea not to tell her what happened, but he doesn't have to. I cross my arms over my chest and shrug.

"Well, we both learned things while we were out," I say and Kwan's gaze snaps to mine. I grin when his mom looks over her shoulder again. "I'm severely out of shape and Kwan's apparently got rockets strapped to his feet."

Kwan relaxes back against the counter with a small laugh. "If you'd kept up with your running over the summer, you might have my speed," he says.

I raise my eyebrows at him. "Are you kidding me? I was still healing from my injury, doctors told me to take it easy."

"Sure, if that's what you wanna go with," Kwan says, laughing at the expression on my face. When his mom has her back to us, I flip him the bird, which only makes him laugh harder. It's nice seeing the smile on his face again and I can actually tell that it's not forced this time. But I know just as well as he does that it won't last.

By the time Mrs. Young's finished with the pancakes, Kwan and I have both showered. I borrowed his clothes after all but I still have to go home. Even if it's not before school, I still have to go back there. And I'd rather get it over with. I've spent too many days worrying about what I'm coming home to. I'm not interested in playing that game today.


Dad's car isn't in the driveway when I pull into it, Kwan following behind me in his car. He parks on the street and even I can't deny the relief spreading through me at the fact that dad's not here. I'm guessing he's already left for work but wherever he is, I'm more than grateful for it.

I open my door and get out, Kwan following suit. I spin my key in the door as Kwan jogs up to meet me, following me inside as soon as the door's open. "You can stay at my place again tonight," he says and I roll my eyes as I look back at him.

"No, dad's probably not gonna do anything tonight," I respond, even though I'm not entirely sure that's true. There were times that he didn't get all his frustration out in one incident and the following days were hell. I guess I'm just hopeful that it won't happen again tonight.

I carry my bag upstairs and Kwan stays by the door, watching me until I disappear into my bedroom. My backpack, somehow still holding together, is laying on my bed and I don't remember ditching it there but whatever. I grab it and head downstairs again.

Kwan looks up when the stairs rattle and I give him a grin. "Told you I didn't need you to hold my hand," I say, dropping my bag at the foot of the stairs. The only thing not in my bag is an essay I left on the kitchen table.

I dig through the stack of papers on the table in search of my essay. I find an envelope with my name on the front, just another statement from my bank. When I toss it back on the pile, I see a few typed pages and I recognize the boring title as my essay. I grab it out of the stack and start to turn to Kwan but I catch sight of a scribbled note underneath the stack. I nudge the stack of mail out of the way and pick up the handwritten note. If I wasn't sure about it being dad's handwriting, the message pretty much confirms it for me.

You want to act like a grownup and talk to me the way that you do? Here's your shot, Dash.

A groan slips from me before I can stop it and I hear Kwan's footsteps. I consider crumpling the note but that'd just make him more curious. I pass the paper off to my best friend when he's close enough and his eyebrows draw down as he reads.

Kwan sighs roughly, dropping the note onto the table. "He's such a dick." He flicks his gaze up to mine, shaking his head. "He is, I'm not even sorry for that one, your dad is…" he trails off, glancing around the kitchen before looking back at me. "Do you have food here?"

I start to question why the hell he's interested in getting something to eat right after breakfast but then I catch on. He's not asking for food now. He's making sure I'll have enough to eat while I stay here without my dad.

"Yeah man, I'll be fine," I tell him, stepping past him and grabbing my backpack from the bottom of the stairs. "Come on, we're gonna be late for school."

We still have plenty of time to waste before we'll technically be late but I'm not sticking around here and listening to Kwan's worries. Dad'll be home in the morning or in the next few days anyway. I know him. He just wants to throw his weight around and remind me that I'm not supposed to stand up to him. He acts like a fucking child sometimes but I know how to deal with it at this point. I don't need anyone to worry about me or to check up on me. I'll be more than fine spending a night or two without dad here. In a way, I almost prefer it.


My teammates and the cheerleaders are gathered in the parking lot by the time I pull up. Kwan's already out of his car and I'm probably the last one of us to arrive. I took a couple of back roads on my way here cause my head is all kinds of fucked right now.

The cheerleaders look my way when I get out of my car and there's a small smile on Star's face. Until she gets a look at mine. Her eyebrows draw down at the same time Paulina looks away from me. Even my teammates give me a once over.

I looked like shit the last time I played the role of punching bag but that looked more like 'disgruntled bar fight' while this looks more like 'someone took a jackhammer to my face'. I swing my backpack on my shoulder and shuffle over to them.

"Holy fuck, dude," Jeff comments and I flick my gaze to his. He raises an eyebrow in question but when I don't offer an immediate explanation, he continues. "What the fuck happened, man?" He gestures to my face. Yeah. Like he could be talking about anything else.

I shrug, glancing up at the rest of our group. Kwan meets my gaze and gives me a sympathetic look. It's not that easy sometimes to pretend that I was defending some girl or that I was drinking and got into a fight. There's no lie on the tip of my tongue and I wish I could just come up with something.

Everyone is silent and I feel the flush rising to my neck. I don't want to talk about my dad and I don't want to lie anymore. Fuck, I knew I shouldn't have come in today.

"See you guys at practice," I mumble, moving past them. Jeff calls after me again but Kwan falls into step with me as we make our way inside. I really wish he could just stay with the group but I know my best friend. He'd just be worried about me the entire time. I hate that he can't enjoy himself if he knows there's something bothering me.

He glances at me when we climb the stairs into the school building and I yank the door open before I speak. "You don't have to leave every time I do," I say softly, flicking my gaze toward him. He gives a shrug and I follow him inside.

"I didn't really have anything to talk about today," he says, keeping pace with me to my locker. I spin the combination in and once it's opened, I shove a few of my books inside. I've got biology first period and Kwan's in history, so this is where we part.

I give him a smile. "See you in economics." I slam my locker door closed and start down the hall. I make it into my seat in the classroom before I realize Kwan's followed after me. He sinks down in a chair next to mine and rests his arms against the desk, leaning forward until his cheek is resting against his arms. There's still some time before the bell rings and I'm guessing he doesn't want to be alone.

The chair creaks as I lean back in it and my sigh is loud in the silence. "You want to talk?" I ask, already knowing that the answer's no. Kwan's the same as me. Doesn't like to talk about his shit where he could be overheard. The people in our town aren't terrible people. But if gossiping was an Olympic sport, the citizens of Amity Park would take home the gold every year.

Kwan lets out a noise, shaking his head and I drum my fingers against the desk. I don't know when we both got so fucked up but it's a sad sight. I remember summers when we were kids and our biggest problem was who got to play with which Nerf gun. Everything is so much more complicated now and I doubt a handful of foam darts will get our anger out.

"We should play flag football this weekend," I say in the silence and my best friend lets out a breath. It's another thing we used to play as kids but it's still a lot of fun. I glance toward Kwan and a small smile is pulling at his face. "Come on, we should. You and I are way too fucking young to be this sad," I say, reaching over to swat him on the shoulder. "I'm letting the guys know and we'll invite the girls too. This weekend, flag football."

Kwan rolls his eyes but his smile is insistent, probably drawing on memories from our childhood. The time when we weren't fucked up and we definitely weren't sad. It was before things with my dad got really ugly and before mom left. Before Kwan realized he didn't like girls and before he realized that some people thought that was a bad thing.

"Okay," he says softly and the grin I give him probably rivals the ones we wore as kids. Cause while our problems haven't suddenly disappeared just cause we're gonna play a game, things feel a little less hopeless. If we've got an open field and time to spare, things don't look so dark.


Ms. Anderson asked if I needed to see the nurse when she first saw me and I'm sure she wanted to hear the story. But I didn't have a lie prepared so I just said no. But apparently, that wasn't a good enough answer because she asked me to stay at the end of her class when everyone else was leaving.

She waits until the room is empty, save for us, before she speaks. "Dash… I haven't been in this town very long," she says, sinking down on the edge of her desk. She looks up at me with a concerned expression and I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. Every new teacher that comes through here tries to help me.

I glance toward the clock with an exhale. "I should get to class."

"I'll write you a pass," Ms. Anderson responds and I tear my gaze away from the clock. Her expression is still concerned but there's some kind of determination behind it. Like she's not only interested in getting to the bottom of this problem but fixing it in the process. "If there's… something bothering you, I want you to know that you can talk to me."

It's nothing the other teachers in this town haven't already tried but she doesn't know me. She hasn't been here long enough to know that I'm determined as fuck to keep a hold of my secrets. Even when the adults in the area can probably tell exactly what the hell happens to me at home, I refuse to tell them anything. It's none of their business.

"I know," I say, not bothering with a smile. I know she'll see right through it. I gesture to the door again and this time, she doesn't say anything. I take that as my cue to go but as I start to leave the room, she calls my name.

Ms. Anderson stands up from her desk, offering me a sincere smile. "If you ever need me, I'm someone you can talk to." She holds my gaze and I think she's waiting on me to change my mind. To suddenly break down and tell her everything that's been going on in my life since I was five years old.

But I'm not interested in breaking down. And I've lost track of how many people have told me they'd be there for me only to buckle when push comes to shove. If my head's too fucked to think, I'd go to Kwan or maybe even Paulina rather than a teacher. At least with my best friend or my ex, there's not a chance of the authorities being brought in on this. The last thing I need is more people prying into my life and trying to get me to talk. Especially if those people could take me away from the shitty town I've called home for the past seventeen years.


I can't remember the last time I walked down the school halls with people whispering about me but it must've been fucking junior high or something. Cause I haven't felt this strange in a long time. I try my best to ignore them and put one foot in front of the other but I catch snippets of the conversations around me and it makes my hands clench into fists.

Some of them are talking about how I get drunk all the time. That I've probably just been fighting with the other regulars at the local bars. These idiots have no fucking clue that the only time I'm known as a 'regular' at a bar is when I'm hauling my dad out of there. Because the fucking bartenders don't know how to tell him he's had too much.

I hear a few people guess that maybe the bruises are from my dad. They're saying that he doesn't like it when I'm out partying. They're not wrong but I'm not getting into my situation with strangers. I consider telling them to fuck off and mind their own goddamn business but that probably won't help anything. They'll still talk.

A few other stories about me are passed around but those seem to be the most common two. I'm either getting my ass kicked by bar hoppers or my dad's flying off the handle. One of those is correct but fuck if I'm gonna let everyone know which one.

Across the hall, Danny's watching me. But when I look his way, his gaze quickly leaves mine. He hesitates in front of his locker for a few seconds before he takes off down the hall. It only takes me half a second to realize I want to follow after him.

I jog the length of the hall and make it down the stairs before he realizes I'm following him. Danny lets out a sigh but he comes to a stop, probably knowing that I'll come after him anyway.

"Do we really have to stop talking?" I ask softly, watching the way his gaze leaves mine after a few seconds. He gives a shrug before glancing back toward me.

Danny shifts the weight of his backpack from one shoulder to the other before crossing his arms. "Depends. You still think what you saw this weekend is because of my parents?" he asks and I guess it's clear from my expression because he shakes his head. "Then yeah. We really have to stop talking."

He turns to leave and I can't let him. I grab his arm and he groans, turning back toward me with a sort of broken expression. Like he'd be okay if I could just believe his lie. But every time I try to imagine something else, I can't come up with anything that would leave marks like that on him.

"Why can't you tell me what it is then?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "If it's not your parents then who's doing this to you, Danny?"

His shoulders fall and he pulls his arm from me. "I told you, it's a long story." His gaze meets mine before I can speak. "And don't say that you've got time to hear it cause I don't have time to tell it."

The bell rings overhead and he glances toward the sound with a sigh. He turns away and I let him go this time. Not cause I'm gonna be late for class and not cause I've decided to give him space. I let him go cause I'm out of things to say. I don't know how to convince Danny that I'm here to listen to his shit regardless of how ugly it is. And I've been so focused on helping him that I didn't really stop to wonder if he ever wanted my shitty help in the first place.


By the time lunch rolls around, I'm basically sleeping during classes, only waking up to the sound of the bell. I don't know why my teachers haven't called on me. Maybe cause of the bruises marking my skin like some kind of fucked-up road map. Or maybe it's cause I'm on the football team. I remember when I joined the team in freshman year and I was suddenly able to request for extensions on homework deadlines with no problem. The upperclassmen taught me that trick and I'm pretty sure I abused it the most in my first year on the team.

The cheerleaders and my teammates are already at our designated table and after one look at them, talking and laughing, I know I can't do this. Not today. Maybe I could if I'd patched things up with Danny or maybe if dad hadn't worked me over last night. But it's not happening today.

I leave the lunchroom and pace the halls instead. There are vending machines downstairs but I don't feel like raiding them yet. I'm too tired, or too something, to make the trek down. And I don't really want to move anymore so it leaves me on the floor in front of my locker with my head in my hands. I should have just skipped today. My mind's clearly too fucked to handle being around people.

Time seems to pass by pretty slowly as I sit on the floor feeling sorry for myself. Sorry for Kwan. For Danny. God, I wish I could help the two of them but there's nothing I can do. Danny doesn't want my help and there's nothing more I can do for Kwan other than be here for him. Remind him that as bad as shit gets, it's not his fault. I wish I could fucking believe the same.

A shadow falls over me and for half a second, I think it's Danny. I think that he's come to find me and wants to tell me what the bruises are really from. I glance up to see him but it's not Danny. Paulina's the one standing over me and from the look on her face, she's not here to argue.

I let out a heavy exhale and she extends her hand toward me. I only take her hand cause I don't want to look like a dick. I'm capable of picking myself up off the floor without help but she offered.

"Hey," I say softly, my gaze on our feet. I don't know what's going through her head but I'd like to think that maybe she got a look at my face and feels bad for me. Maybe she's wondering how I am. Or how I've been just in the past few days since she left the beach house on Saturday.

Paulina's hand stays in mine and our fingers link together effortlessly. She makes it so easy to fall back into our old habits and I don't fight her that hard. She raises her other hand to my face and her fingers hover just over the side of my face, afraid to touch down in case it hurts me.

I use my other hand to nudge her palm against my face, my eyes falling closed. I don't like feeling weak or like I'm about to break the fuck down but it's the way I feel right now. And I don't know if she can tell but it feels like she can.

"Dash… I-I'm so sorry," she whispers, leaning her forehead against mine. Tears are gathered underneath my closed lids and I really don't want to do this. I don't want to cry because of my dad. Or because of Kwan's shit. Or because of anything. I don't want to cry at all.

Paulina tilts her head enough to press a gentle kiss to my cheek and I wish that was all it took to make these marks go away. If she could kiss all these bruises away maybe everyone would stop staring at me. Maybe I could survive the day without teachers asking me to talk to them. To let them in on a world of pain I barely let my friends in on.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers again and I tilt my head up to meet her lips. I don't know why I'm doing this. I know it's shitty cause I don't want to be with her again. Or maybe I do but not like we were. With the drama and the stupid fights and the shit we went through. I just want the her that existed in our sophomore year. Before she changed and started acting like she's better than everyone else.

Our kisses do most of the conversation and by the time we break away, we've said we're sorry a thousand times. She's resting her forehead against mine but it only stays that way for a few seconds before she pulls me into her arms. Tears are forming in my eyes again but I bury my face in her shoulder and pretend that it doesn't hurt.

Her hands are gentle on my back and I don't know how I've fallen back into her arms but we're here and I don't want to take it back. I don't care what she wants me to change about myself anymore, I just want her there. On the nights that I hate myself and can't sleep, I want to be able to text her to tell her she's beautiful. Because then at least one of us would believe it about ourselves.

And I miss watching shitty romance movies with her and running my fingers through her hair instead of watching the screen. Maybe it's not her I miss. Maybe I just miss what we were and all the things we could have been. Because when I was with her, I didn't have time to obsess over all the bad shit in my life. She was my sanity and my fucking god, I need to get drunk off her.


I spend my free period lying with Paulina in my arms in the backseat of my car. We don't really talk but we're in the school parking lot so it's not like we can get it on. I'm pretty sure we kiss each other a dozen or so times before I lose count. I think I should feel some kind of regret for giving in to her but I don't feel guilty about having Paulina in my arms again. It leaves me confused instead.

"So… where does this leave us?" I question, feeling her body shift as she exhales. I don't really want to talk about this yet either but I need our shit to be out in the open. Otherwise, I'm sure the ocean that is Paulina Sanchez will suck me back in and I'll have no chance of escaping her riptides.

Paulina shifts in my arms, leaning up to kiss my cheek. "I don't know… maybe it just puts us back at square one?" She rests her cheek against my chest again with a soft exhale. "We could just start all over and pretend everything didn't happen between us."

I really hate the sound of that. It feels more like a cop out than just dealing with our shit. I don't want to pretend to be her boyfriend when all we do is fuck. And I don't want to just fuck her when I could be her boyfriend again… but I really fucking suck at that. I've never been good at the romantic shit.

My eyes fall closed in the silence and I let out a heavy sigh. "I don't want to pretend anymore, Paulina." Not with you. Not with anyone.

She walks her fingers up my chest and I wish I could just forget everything. I want to forget all the shit that's happened between us, everything with my dad, my mom leaving, Kwan's dad, everything going on with Danny… I just want to forget it all. But I can't. And at some point, I have to deal with my shit.

"What do you want, Dash?" Paulina asks. What a fucking loaded question. If I were a normal person, I'd have a simple answer for her. Talk about what I wanted to do with my life or what I was interested in changing or what I wanted in our relationship. But not only do I not know any of that fucking shit, there's a lot more that I want.

I want Kwan to be okay and not hate himself just cause his dad is pulling for the title of world's biggest asshole. I want my dad to leave me the fuck alone and realize that I'm not just some kind of fucking punching bag. And Danny. I want Danny to be okay. With whatever the hell's going on in his life, I want him to be okay. To have someone that he can talk to about all this shit when it gets to be too much. When his head's just as fucked as mine is right now, I want him to have someone to talk to. Even if that someone's not me and will never be me, I still want him to have that someone.

And I don't want to feel this crushing weight on my chest every goddamn day. I want to know that I'm not making a mistake by staying in Amity Park after I graduate high school. While my friends move on to colleges and start chasing their dreams, I'll still be here. Doing the same shit I've done since I was fourteen. And I just have to cling to the hope that I'm not making a mistake. That I'm not fucking myself over or selling myself short. Alex thinks I can do more. So does Kwan. But I can't. And I've never let myself entertain even the idea of doing anything else.

"I want a lot of things," I finally whisper into the silence that's crashed over Paulina and I. Her fingers continue to explore my chest, making their way up and down my sternum. I let my eyes fall closed again, not even sure why I opened them in the first place. The most I'm doing is staring at the roof of my car and thinking on some dark shit.

Paulina exhales, finally stilling her hand against my chest. "What do you want with us?" she asks, so softly I almost miss it. I wish I could tell her that I know exactly what I want for us. I wish I had all the answers but I don't. And I can't come up with them on the spot.

"I don't know," I tell her, turning my head just far enough to kiss her forehead. I've missed her in my arms but I don't know if it was ever her I really missed. Maybe I was just terrified to be alone. Maybe I still am. I'm tired of thinking. I don't want to consider every possible option for us, I just want to be in the moment. I don't want to think about what we're gonna do when the year is over and she leaves for college. And I don't want to think about what I'm gonna do when dad comes home or when Kwan calls me in the middle of the night crying cause his father's a jackass.

There are so many things that crowd up my head space every day, it's hard to breathe sometimes. And I don't want to think about it all right now. Is that too much to ask for?


A/N:

Yo! Thanks for coming back for another week of this angsty ride. I hope you enjoy it, remember to keep your arms and legs inside Stay at all times. …y'know, amusement park rides…? Puns? Yeah, anyway. I'll see myself out

So, welcome back, I hope you guys liked this update. I know what you're thinking. Why would I let Dash go back to Paulina? Because plot.

Nah, I know that feeling but I promise, she gets better! Not like… right away or anything but she's not entirely bad… I mean, hate her all you want, it's fun to read your thoughts on my portrayal of these characters.

So, this chapter is light in terms of moving the plot forward in the physical aspect but it has advanced the emotional side. (does that even make sense?) Here you can see that while Dash can bullshit and talk a big game, he's still really fucked up on the inside. He's still got that nagging low self-esteem and brewing self-hatred. As much as the people around him try to get through to him, that poor boy still thinks he's worthless. (someone needs to take him from me and give him a lot of hugs)

Another Danny appearance! I couldn't go two chapters without giving you guys at least a liiiittle glimpse of him. He is the other main character in this story after all… even if his storyline is more hidden until Dash is thrown into the middle of it ;)

The title of this chapter comes from the song 'Welcome to My Life' by Simple Plan which is such a great song. It's so Dash, too! Seriously, if you've never heard it, you should. Simple Plan is great but their old stuff is fucking gold. Seriously, all their albums are amazing but their older stuff are works of art. "No Pads, No Helmets... Just Balls" is in my top 5 favorite albums from all artists/bands, like... it's so good.

Anyway! Thank you all for reading this story and leaving your kind words on it. I really do appreciate it. Waking up to reviews or checking them during work breaks is really wonderful and keeps my motivation for this story alive and well.

I hope you all have a wonderful week and I'll see you next chapter!