Chapter 5: Listen

Author's Note: Thanks to Airenko for betaing.

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The ring of the bell wasn't noticed as Peanut roughly pushed through the door, not looking back as it swung shut hard. A few patrons looked up, but most didn't even separate themselves from their alcohol. The only person who continued to stare after a curious glance was Johnny Vincent. Peanut paused in the middle of the bar, staring right back; Johnny snorted, looking away, and pressing his cigarette to his lips.

"'Ey!" Peanut looked over at the bartender, who was gesturing at him wildly with a rag. He squinted his eyes, chewing on his lip. "Don't stand in the middle of th' place. Take a seat."

Peanut said nothing, scowling and walking towards Johnny. Johnny hunched his shoulders, pointedly staring straight ahead. He didn't move when the bar stool next to him scraped against the ground, and Peanut sat on it, looking over at Johnny. Johnny frowned when Peanut's eyes fell on him, still staring icily at the bottles of alcohol lined up behind the bar.

"Hey," Peanut said blankly, at a loss for words. Johnny's eyes narrowed, and he roughly blew smoke out of his nose; the hand not around his drink tapping the bar in irritation. Peanut scratched his chin, leaving over the bar and glancing over at Johnny, "You, uh-"

"What would you like?" The bartender asked brashly, not batting an eye as he butted right into the delicate beginnings of conversation Peanut was trying to start. It ripped like thin lace, and Peanut frowned, trying to ignore the nasty fluid that was dripping from the man's nose ring. "T'drink, y'know?"

Peanut sighed, resting his head on his hand. "Same as he has."

The bartender nodded, fetching his drink. Peanut stole a glance over at Johnny; he was still glaring over at the bottles, and Peanut was surprised they hadn't shattered into a shower of glass and vodka. His attention was snapped away at the clunk in front of him. He looked at his beer blankly, wrapping his fingers around the neck of the bottle.

He looked over at Johnny. Still, Peanut was given the cold shoulder, and with a slight sideways jerk of his body he managed to scoot his barstool closer. Johnny flinched ever so slightly, pulling his cig from his mouth and tapping the ashes into the ashtray. Peanut quietly took a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste.

"So…" Peanut ventured, twirling the bottle in his hands. Johnny said nothing. He forged on: "I see your foot's alright."

He was still wearing his sock and sandal combination, the wrapping bulky under his sock. Johnny's toes curled slightly, and that was the only cue Peanut got from Johnny that he was paying him any attention at all. Peanut readjusted the grip on his slick beer bottle, staring hard at it. He wasn't used to this, and it was unnerving. "I'm glad it's better. You looked like you were in a lot of pain this morning."

That got Johnny moving. He peeled his eyes away from the glasses, glaring murderously at Peanut. Peanut glanced up quickly, and then back down at his drink, picking at the label nervously. He was skittish under Johnny's harsh stare. "I-I wanted to help you, but…"

Johnny made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, hunching over the bar and resuming his staring contest with the bottles. Peanut sighed, "You kinda… yelled at me to go away." He finished quietly, not mentioning the sobbing he had heard when he was fleeing Johnny's room. He was curious, in a morbid way, on how Johnny would react to his find; would he vehemently deny it, or break down and confess his true love? Peanut wrinkled his nose. He would probably just punch him in the face and leave. Besides, the crying was probably over the piece of ceramic wedged into the fleshy sole of his foot. There was no other ulterior motive other than pain.

The bottle in Peanut's hand seemed to empty of itself of it's own accord, and he found himself with a refill just as suddenly. He blinked at it, surprised, before casting a quick glance at Johnny. He hadn't fled, though he was so quiet it was like he wasn't really there. Johnny's cigarette was smoldering in the ashtray, and his hand was wrapped tight around his beer. Even though it looked like this was the last place he wanted to be, he hadn't moved an inch. He was stone cold, and the only indication that Johnny was still alive was when he took a sip of his drink.

"You're my best friend, Johnny…" Peanut said suddenly, staring intently at Johnny. He flinched, but didn't look over at Peanut. "You know that, right? 'Cause I don't want…" He was struggling for words. "I don't want you to, y'know, leave me."

Peanut flushed, and looked away. "U-uhm, not like that, but I don't want you to stop being my friend just because of one little incident… One big incident." Johnny didn't need to talk; Peanut was keeping up both ends of conversation pretty well. "Okay, a really big incident. But, compared to some of the stuff we've been through, this is nothing. Remember after the rumble and Hopkins somehow beat you up?"

Johnny's eyes slid closed in thought.

"And," Peanut ventured on, carefully eyeing Johnny's face for reactions, "I took you home… you were groaning and moaning, 'cause that stupid kid hit you with a bunch of fire crackers. And I carried you for about four blocks, remember?"

Johnny was silent. He pursed his lips around cigarette, pretending not to hear Peanut. But he was hanging off every word. Peanut frowned, looking sadly at Johnny.

"I don't really know why you don't like the idea so much…" Peanut shifted uncomfortably, leaning with both arms against the bar. "I mean, I do everything she does, and then some. You know that, I do everything for you, everything I can and then some. I'd… I'd never do any of that stuff she did to you. Never."

Johnny frowned, staring at the wood table and tapping his ashes off into the ashtray. Peanut watched him, his eyes following as the cigarette was put back into his mouth. "I don't know. Why do you like her anyway, Johnny?" he asked honestly, leaning towards him slightly. Johnny blinked, looking over at Peanut, shocked by his bluntness. "'Cause sometimes I think that you'd rather be miserable instead of happy."

Johnny still kept up his vow of silence, though he looked more perturbed than before. "Maybe it's 'cause I'm not a chick." Peanut continued, "I don't have tits, yeah… but…"

"What?" Johnny interjected dryly, staring down at the bar. He ignored Peanut's startled look. "You gonna get a sex change for me, Larry?"

"I'd be willing, Johnny, you sure as hell know, but I don't got the money or the will to grow my own set of jugs," Peanut replied dully, sighing and resting his head on his hand. Johnny shook his head, in amusement or pity, he really didn't know. They both fell into silence, and nobody said a word until Johnny's empty glass clinked against the bar and the bartender fetched him a new bottle.

"So, that's it?" Peanut said softly. Johnny concentrated on his beer, holding the neck tightly in his hands. "After all this, our whole friendship, it's just…. Done."

Johnny laughed dryly, and Peanut winced at the sound. "What am I supposed to do, Larry? Forget it all happened and pretend we're just best friends forever again?" The amount of bitterness in his voice was overwhelming, and Peanut grimaced.

Peanut gazed at the table, feeling like if he tried hard enough, it would swallow him up and end him right there. "Was it really that bad?" Peanut's voice cracked slightly, and he ignored it, prodding at a pattern in the wood that looked like a face. The only sign that Johnny noticed was the slight wrinkling of his nose. "Was I really that horrible? I know Lola is pretty sexy, would she have been better? 'Cause I know I'm not the best, but I tried, Johnny. And you liked it, you seemed to like it, and even if I'm not the best of partners we could still date, maybe? You know I don't cheat and I'd do whatever you want, you know-"

"Larry!" Johnny snapped, stopping his rambling. Peanut let out the tiniest of sniffs, looking blithely away from Johnny. Johnny grit his teeth, willing at him to look over, but he refused to turn his head. Johnny knocked back the rest of his beer. "I… I'm not gay, Larry. I wouldn't know."

"Oh. Oh. 'Course not. Figures." Peanut's voice wavered, and he roughly wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Figures…"

Johnny frowned, looking over at him. "Larry?"

Peanut let out a little hiccupping sniffle, looking up at Johnny, eyes red. Johnny balked. He was crying. "What?"

"Larry… You're not…"

"Yeah, Iam," he said harshly, his voice wavering, taking in a short, shallow breath. "But I bet you wouldn't know how that's like, since Lola's never cried over you even once. God damn it, Johnny." Peanut wiped furiously at his eyes, angry at Johnny, angry at his weakness, angry at the world. "God damn it…"

"You can't blame me…" Johnny said, glaring at Peanut; it was more desperate than angry. "You can't…"

"Yes I can! It's all your fault… you just… you're such a bastard…" Peanut hiccupped, sniffling. He was quickly dissolving into tears, and his face burnt red with shame and anger. "Y-you… y-you're so stupid, s-so…" He took in a sharp breath. "Stupid…" Johnny pushed his beer aside, turning his body to face Peanut. He leaned forward, and Peanut flinched away, roughly rubbing his face with the sleeve of his coat. His whole body shuddered, and Peanut took in a few quick breaths, struggling for air in the clouded bar. "So stupid…"

"Larry…" Johnny looked as if he was about to reach out to Peanut. He extended a hand, and it wavered in the air before retreating back to his side.

Peanut shook his head slowly, biting his bottom lip, and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. His hands shook as he grabbed his wallet, taking out an indiscriminate amount of bills, and throwing them at him. "There," he said harshly, jumping from his barstool. His face was red and streaked with tears. His eyes were bright, tiny shards of broken glass reflecting the dim light. "That should pay for everything. More than enough." He turned to leave, brushing past Johnny. He was jerked to a stop by the rough grip on his wrist, and Peanut twisted around, glaring at Johnny.

Johnny frowned. "Where are you going?"

Peanut pulled, flinching as Johnny's grip became painfully tight. He took in a deep breath, shutting his eyes tightly, and speaking with controlled precision: "Back to Bullworth… I…I can't stand it anymore, Johnny, I can't be next to you."

"It's not my fault," Johnny said tensely, gritting his teeth. His grip tightened, and Peanut's jaw tightened noticeably. "I still wanna be friends, but… It's not my fault. Not my fault you're… you're that way."

Peanut suddenly wrenched away from his grasp, turning sharply and pushing Johnny backward. He cried out as his lower back hit the edge of the bar. Peanut pinned him there, the glasses and bottles pushed away, and falling to the ground with a shatter. The whole bar quieted. Peanut dug his fingers into Johnny's thin shirt, and he leaned forward, their noses nearly touching.

"Thatway? That I care about you?" His voice was harsh as it could be, but it still wavered with that tone of uncertainty; his eyes were red from tears. "Of course, Johnny. It's never your fault. Never your fucking fault!" He suddenly let go of Johnny, repelling off of him like oil on water. Johnny stared wide-eyed at him, leaning forward and taking in a heavy breath as he gripped the spot where Peanut had dug his fingers. "You just stay with Lola, that fuckin' slut, go ahead! You don't know your own worth, Johnny."

"Hey!" The bartender yelled angrily from behind the bar, shaking his fist, "You little shit, get out! I don't want any troublemakers in my 'stablishment!"

Peanut glared, flicking the man off deftly as he turned on his heel. He strode out, pausing at the door and looking over his shoulder. "You could have it so much better," he said coldly, the door swinging behind him, bell ringing as the door closed.

Johnny peeled himself off the bar, jumping off. His feet hit the floor in a run, and he nearly tumbled on his face as the yells of the bartender faded fast behind his ears. He pushed through the door, not slowly his pace as he kept on. "Larry! Larry!"

He wasn't in sight. Johnny paused, looking around quickly. He whipped around, trotting backwards and cupping his hands around his face. "Larry!" His voice projected off against the houses, and a car alarm rang in the distance. There was no reply. Johnny swore, glaring around. "God damnit, Peanut!"

No reply, except the sound of a rat under his boot. Johnny swore, grabbing his hair and doubling over. "Fuck! Fuck…" He straightened, kicking a few stones roughly as he stormed through the empty street. "Larry, you son of a bitch…"

The car alarm howled in the distance, and a rat squeaked. "You son of a bitch…" His voice lost pitch, wavered, and faded into the dull void.

---

Peanut placed a hand up to his forehead, squinting and peering up at the old tenements. The morning light was unbearably bright, mockingly cheerful as it beamed in his face. He let out a long, drawn out sigh, scuffing his shoes against the road and looking down at his feet. It was his house, too, but he was feeling apprehensive going in. The last thing he needed right now were the guys digging at him for throwing a bitch fight last night with Johnny. (Though, would Johnny tell them anything? Probably not; like he said, he didn't want to end up like that kid named Istanbul or something.)

He could feel sweat pricking at his hairline from the heat. He was getting sticky in the heat, and his black jacket wasn't helping at all. It didn't take long for the heat to become unbearable, and he swallowed his pride and fear in favor of the sanctity of his last clean shirt. Hunching his shoulders, Peanut walked up to the door, letting himself in without a knock and closing the door loudly behind him. The bang echoed throughout the hallways, and Peanut looked around curiously. Nobody seemed to be home at the moment.

"Hello?" There was silence, and Peanut walked through the hallway, ducking his head into hallways and listening intently. Downstairs was barren, and his feet took him up the stairs.

Peanut stopped in his tracks at the sound of heavy footsteps from the fire escape ledge that led from one side of the second floor to the other. He walked over, stepping out and colliding right with a sweaty Lola Lombardi.

"Oof!" As an automatic reaction, Peanut grabbed Lola to keep her from falling after she nearly bounced off his chest; she giggled, and he quickly let her go, trying to keep down the horrified look; he just wanted to shoot her after all of this, everything she had caused and prevented. The heat had gotten to her too, and she had shed her leather jacket in favor of just a small tank top that bared too much for Peanut's eyes. She tugged at the strap idly, smiling up at Peanut.

"Hey, Larry," She was using that voice. Peanut looked away, his head lowered so she couldn't see the disgust on his face. Of course, she had gotten back with Johnny, but Lola was known to be rambunctious after a taste of 'singledom'. She relished getting back at Johnny in little ways to show that even though he brought the flowers, she led this show. What better way was to flirt with other group members? Usually Norton was her target, but Peanut would do. "How are ya?"

"Pretty good," Peanut said coolly, looking up with a smile, and running his hands through his hair. A master of disguise. "Hot out, ain't it?" The words leapt out of his mouth before he realized that, in Lola's mind, they would be twisted beyond their connotation; his fake smile wavered as she took a step towards him, placing a hand on his chest.

"Yeah, it is," she said with a wink. "You ought to take off that jacket, Larry." Peanut barely masked his frown. Usually Lola didn't take out her frustrations on him. (She could score better than Peanut.) It was confusing, to say the least, but he didn't have time to really think because her lithe body was suddenly pressed up against him, her round breasts against his chest. "I mean, you wouldn't want-"

Peanut stumbled backwards. Lola's mouth twitched into the tiniest frown. Peanut flashed her a meek smile, but it was full of teeth. "I was wondering where Johnny was."

Lola frowned, crossing her arms across her chest. "Figures." She had lost all flirtation in her voice. "Why you wanna know where he is, anyway? He's mad at you."

Peanut blinked. Now he knew why Lola had been hitting on him; right now, he was the worst enemy of Johnny. It would kill him if he heard that Larry Romano had been putting the moves on his queen. ('Christ, she's the Derby of chicks.'­) "'Cause… 'Cause I do," he said, trying to keep his calm.

Lola harrumphed, thrusting out her bottom lip. "Well, if ya really wanna know…" She trailed off, tapping a well-manicured finger against her arm. "I don't have a clue. I haven't seen him since… yesterday afternoon, when we hooked back up." Her eyes suddenly brightened, and she giggled. "Johnny gave me flowers."

Peanut finally let out the disgust and anger built up in him with a small 'tch', and Lola's eyes narrowed. Even though it was quiet, she noticed it; it sounded like something that would come out of Pinky's mouth. She titled her head up, looking down at him past her nose. Like he mattered. She had the guy, and he was just…

Well, he was just Peanut.

"I bet Norton would have a clue," she went on, her tone icier, "I think he was hanging out wit' Johnny last night, doin' guy stuff."

"Thanks," Peanut said, turning sharply. He felt his heart clench in his chest, and the thought of having to be civil to her a moment more was killing him. "See ya."

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"Norton?" He wasn't that hard to find. Other than being the only teenager that easily reached six feet in height, he had taken refuge from the heat in the garage. While it wasn't the coolest, it was the best place to hide. And hide he needed to do; If that black eye was any indication, he had gotten the shit beaten out of himself recently. The big teenager looked up at Peanut, frowning immediately. Peanut inquisitively looked at the ice pack pressed up against his eye, but he had more pressing questions to ask. "Were you with Johnny last night?"

"Yeah," Norton sighed, pressing the ice pack against his eye. It was quickly melting under the harsh sun. "I was there with Johnny. Wouldn't have this eye if I wasn't." He removed the ice pack, showing off his badge from the battle. His eye was squinty, and there were a few dark red cuts on the background of dark bluish and black tints. He smiled lightly, pressing the ice pack back onto his sore eye, and wincing. "Fuckin' townies…"

"That looks harsh," Peanut murmured appreciatively. Those townies must have put up a fight to do anything to Norton; he was a beast, a huge fighter that could rival Russel in some aspects. It must have been a spectacle to have Norton taken like that. Maybe they had fought the whole clique? "And they fought pretty well?"

Norton frowned, snapping his tongue against his front teeth, making a slight clucking noise. "Shit, what do you think?"

"So, what happened to Johnny?"

Norton's frown deepened. "Dunno."

Peanut squinted. "Huh, why?" Norton looked away, and Peanut's eyes squeezed together in suspicion.

"'Cause, I… ah, I left the fight a little early," Norton mumbled. Peanut gaped.

"You…" Norton's eyebrows furrowed together, and Peanut managed to pick his jaw up off the floor so he could continue talking. "You ditched the fight?"

He winced. "Yeah, guess you could say it that way."

Peanut blinked, still in a state of shock. "No shit…" he murmured, running a hand through his hair. The silence only stretched a few seconds; Peanut snapped back to attention. "So, you left Johnny? You have no clue where he is?"

"Nope." Norton shrugged. "There was a bunch of them, an' that mean bastard Henry was there." He shook his head. "And I'll be damned fighting against him with only Vincent- who was sloshed- as my backup. I was truckin' it out of there soon as there was an opening in the circle."

Peanut frowned. "You didn't see if Johnny followed?"

Norton shrugged. "Sorry, Vincent's pretty damn tough. I wasn't really worrying 'bout him."

Peanut sighed, looking at the ground dejectedly, and scuffing his boot against the ground. Now he had no leads. For all he knew, Johnny could be rotting away in Blue Skies right now, still in an endless battle with the townies. "S'alright. Thanks anyway," he said gruffly. He turned very suddenly, hunching his shoulders. Anger was prickling in the back of his senses, and though he wanted to yell at Norton for leaving behind Johnny, he knew he couldn't. Besides, Johnny was all grown up; he could handle himself in a bad predicament, couldn't he?

Peanut walked away. Johnny and Norton had hung around last night after their talk- so that means they were in Blue Skies around midnight. Norton had ran soon after. And it was already noon, so twelve hours had past and there wasn't so much as a holler from Johnny. He wasn't the type to hole himself up when he licked his wounds. It was more characteristic of him to come to Peanut, or Lola, where he would be kissed better. (Figuratively for him, literally in Lola's case.)

Peanut felt his heart clench. Where was Johnny Vincent?

---

"I fucking hate those greaser shits. Bunch of nasty chain-smokers," Henry snarled, leaning against the bus stop sign. He shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes narrowed on the greasers that were just on the precipice of New Coventry. Oh, if they even took a step towards Blue Skies, he'd let them have it. Henry crossed his arms. He'd be damned to have any of those Bullworth punks even come in their territory; bunch of sissies. "You'll have to help me beat those shits if they come over," Henry grunted, not bothering to look back at either of the other townies to see if they agreed.

Jerry frowned lightly, looking over at Omar who just gave him a half-hearted shrug. There was no use fighting Henry; when he wanted to do something, he did it, and if it meant beating greasers or being so nasty that he made old ladies cry, then he did it. And if anybody tried to hold him back, he would just turn his frustrations towards them. It was easier to just indulge his mean streaks. "I think we should…" Jerry paused, squinting and leaning forward slightly. "Hey, just who is that?"

Henry looked over his shoulder. "What the fuck do I look like," he barked, "The school roll call? It's a greaser, that's all that matters, an' we should beat the shit outta him!"

Omar frowned over at him, walking forward and peering through the darkness. Nighttime in Blue Skies was like pea soup, but he had better vision than Henry. "I think… it's that one Ponyboy kid, and…" He blinked. "Johnny Vincent."

Jerry's eyes widened, and he took a few steps forward, glaring over in the direction of the two. "Johnny Vincent," he spat the name out, "Asshole."

Henry chuckled, leering over at Jerry, "He the one who caught you with his girl, didn't he?"

"Yeah." Jerry rubbed his jaw, glaring towards the nondescript shapes in the distance. "Punched me in my jaw."

Henry let out another snicker, not caring about the sour looks that he was getting.

"Why don't we rip that little shit a new one, then?" He turned back to Johnny and Norton. One of them- the shorter one, he couldn't differentiate between the two in the dark- stumbled, and the taller caught him. "Can't be too hard."

"You've never fought against them, have you?" Jerry commented haughtily, "I'm a pretty damn good fighter, but Norton and Johnny? Norton's a fuckin' bear, man. And Johnny doesn't have a bad arm when he isn't freaking out over his slut."

Henry scowled, cracking his knuckles. "I think you're just afraid. Omar?"

Omar shrugged. He could take down Johnny easily enough by himself, but with Norton? That was a wildcard. He was nearly as tall as that dumb, rich Russel kid, and just as bulky. Plus, he was much smarter, and that meant he could actually formulate a plan other than, 'SMASH.' "I guess I could take them on," he said unenthusiastically. Henry frowned.

"Oh, come on." And the shorter one stumbled again, swaying a bit. Henry grinned. "It shouldn't be that hard. Look at that one."

Jerry shoved his hands into his pockets, walking next to Henry and smirking. "I think someone's tipsy." Jerry shot a glance at Henry; he was focused on the two, holding rapt attention. He then threw a glance over his shoulder at Omar. Omar gave him a half-hearted shrug. Jerry grinned. "Easy shot, right?"

Henry cracked his knuckles. "A piece of cake."

Norton didn't notice them until they were much too close for his liking. Johnny was talking so loud that he hadn't heard their approach until they were less than a yard away.

"And then… you know, best friends, Norton?" Johnny slurred angrily, stabbing his un-bandaged foot into the ground. "They're buncha shit! Hate 'em. Never want one again, nuh-uh-"

"Johnny." Norton held a hand up, silencing Johnny. He wouldn't have done that in any normal situation- Johnny would kick his ass- but he had been blathering on about best friend troubles for the past thirty minutes and the sound of boots scuffing against the ground had finally reached his ears. He turned around slowly, trying to look casual. "We've got company."

Johnny growled, clenching his fists. "Townies. Fuck Townies."

Norton frowned, "Johnny?"

Johnny took a step forward, then gasped. He was disorientated, and the ground was slippery under his stumbling feet. Norton looked over him, his eyes wide. He knew it; Johnny was too drunk to fight himself out of a wet paper bag at the moment, and while he had enough anger to take on one of the weaker townies, Omar, Henry, and Jerry together were a force that couldn't be stopped.

"Johnny, god damnit," he hissed under his breath, and Johnny looked up at him; almost looking sorry. Norton felt Johnny's shoulder bump into his, and he stood solid as Johnny stumbled sloppily over his shoes.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as the townies broke out in peals of laughter - like vultures crowing over their prey. Norton turned around sharply. The townies had made a half circle around them.

Henry cracked his knuckles. "Hey, sloppy Sally, stop falling over ya girlfriend."

Johnny frowned, his face distorted in a comical matter. "Hey." Norton knew he should cover Johnny's mouth. His temper was nasty and Henry could match it. The match would spark, light the bomb, and it would all explode in a matter of seconds. "Shut the fuck up, you… fuckin' fucktard." Norton would have rolled his eyes at the sad comeback if he weren't depending on Johnny to back him up.

The townies chuckled, especially Henry. "Nice comeback."

Jerry leered, "Not half as good as your girlfriend's ass, though."

Johnny roared and lunged. (It didn't even make sense; it was a lousy insult, but he didn't care, he needed to let out his anger and frustration.) He tackled Jerry clean over, and they rolled around on the ground, somersaulting over at least twice. Norton yelled something that Johnny didn't care about as he clawed wildly at Jerry. Everything was painfully slow, except for Jerry; he was exceptionally fast, and his punches kept coming and coming. The first couple he managed to block by covering his face, but his arms flailed out at the wrong time.

Jerry's knuckles connected to his nose, and fireworks burst in front of his eyes. Everything suddenly sped up, and they were in normal time once more as another punch succeeded in its course.

"Agh-!" Jerry clambered off of Johnny, who cradled his bleeding nose. There was a sneering noise from behind and suddenly a foot connected to his ribcage, knocking the breath out of him. Johnny wheezed and tried to sit up, looking over at Norton.

All he could see was the back of him.

Because he was running away.

"Norton!" The pounding to his ribs cut his holler short, and he staggered to his knees. But he was quickly shot down by the two sneering townies, their boots connecting to his side. "Nor-" The air escaped from his lungs, and one boot connected with his head. Everything went dark.

---

I'm sorry that this took so long! The next chapter should be coming much sooner, since I have about five thousand words of it done, but you never know. Well, I hope you liked this chapter, and if you have the time please review; just a few words of critique make the next chapter come sooner.