I LOVE this one. So enjoy! :)
As much as she'd wanted to hear all there was to tell about the mystery that was Duncan she didn't find out that day. She dropped hints every now and then that she desperately needed to know the truth, to no avail. All she got was silence and the occasional icy glare. These were limited, as she saw it, for one of two reasons. Either Zane was trying his damn best to not give her the satisfaction of acknowledgement or he didn't want her to endure any more of his insufferable acts. She, naturally, wanted to believe it was the latter, although deep down she wasn't all that sure about it. She imagined him as herself and sadly saw that she would be thinking of herself as scum as well. So she did not expect him to be forgiving, not on the inside.
But through all this turmoil they shared her mind continued to linger on one simple fact. It wasn't Zane, or her grades which were surely suffering as much as she was, it wasn't even her herself. The sole thing she was stuck on was Duncan. She couldn't help but wonder where, if not here or detention, he could possibly be. Where had he gone when he fled the class as he had? Was he as miserable as she was? Was he secretly alright? Was he hurt? Was he the one hurting himself? Or, worst of all, was he already dead…?
Duncan hadn't given a second thought to all he was leaving behind as he sped down the halls and out the double doors of the school. All he was thinking of was one God awful thing, the possibility of death. It sent a shiver down his spine even now, even when it was as inviting as it was. The comfort was nothing compared to the possibility of no longer remaining in the world of the living and it instilled an immense amount of fear in his heart. That's why, his feet beat on the solid concrete asphalt of the school parking lot, he focused all his attention on the sounds surrounding him. He closed his eyes tight, not needing this sense to find his way. He'd ran this way so many times at this point that it was as easy as waking up in the morning. All he had to do was keep vigilant count of how many steps he was taking. It was exactly 1,678 steps. He knew this well, having done it ever since he was in kindergarten. Yes kindergarten. That's how early he's had to be independent.
He emitted a low growl at the thought, trying his hardest to push all traces of his past far from his mind. Instead he focused on the rapid beat of his heart, his ragged breathing, and how the world seemed to be suddenly and inexplicitly shrinking for him. There was also a pounding in his ears that he could not explain which he blamed on the abrupt change in his world. Although he had a feeling it was almost certainly nothing more then his heart going haywire. However all this was strangely soothing to the delinquent. It had the effect that a bus ride had on kids, only it was an adrenaline rush worthy of a medal. For he was not like all those other kids, he didn't want or need to be brought down to what people considered a 'calm' state of mind. What he had learned to need over the course of his life was a rush. It was his defense mechanism. He used it to get through the shit without cracking or going straight over the edge a lot of the time. Granted it was extremely risky since it could go one of three ways. It could pump so much adrenaline through his veins that he went crazy with rage, not enough so that he broke down right then and there, or it would have the desired effect of soothing his tortured mind. It was difficult at first to get the level just right, but now it was far easier. He was still teetering on the edge right now, but he was without a doubt getting the right amount of it. Otherwise he'd be down on his knees.
Random thoughts continued to bounce around in his clouded mind, him registering little but the shift of concrete beneath his feet to a much softer ground. He was now half way there, only the fence separating his block from the school stood in the way. But naturally it was nothing. He'd done it countless times after all.
Another hundred steps and he was coming up on it, hands outstretched and ready to grip on to the cold metal. And, just as that first day of school, he latched on and pushed himself up and over without stopping. This time it was more amazing though. He didn't need to gather his bearings this time around, he didn't hesitate a fraction of a second even. He just kept running as if the devil himself were at his heels and his only chance of survival was to keep running and never think of pausing in his tracks. He chuckled lightly at the thought. If only. He'd gladly allow this pursuit for, at first, the game and eventually the death it insured. To bad there was no such thing as a real devil, it was but a saying. The only devil in this world was, first and foremost, the perpetrator of his wound and, second in command, himself. It was his soon to be title. Whenever the other bastard passed on he'd gladly take the position with immense pride. He'd finally have a place in this world that wasn't just 'the prankster' or 'king of the school'. But don't get the wrong idea. He loved being the king of something. He just wanted it to be something in the real world. This would be his goal in life, that is, if he lived that long.
He was coming up on his pathetic excuse of a house now, its white paint chipped and faded to the extreme. It was so sad that he could barely stand looking at it, let alone expect some stranger to appreciate. It didn't help that the windows were cracked and the curtains hanging on the inside were torn. One person would take on glance and it would all be over. They'd make a disgusted face, snort, and turn their eyes away thinking 'What a dump.'
He slowed to a complete stop as he got to the edge of the grass at his driveway. He was a mere few feet from the entrance of the house, breathing heavy, chest rising rapidly, and his body encompassed in sweat. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and sighed heavily. It was then that he realized something. He saw that his mother's car was not parked like it almost always was. Instead there was a car he barely ever saw. It was black, like the owners heart. It was in better shape then his mother's as well, but it didn't make it any more desirable. Duncan hated it more then ever because it was in good condition and he never got to ride in it. Duncan growled, kicking at the concrete with fury abound. Although, he couldn't say he was displeased by the cars presence. Deep down he was secretly hoping as he ran that he would be here. Otherwise the whole point of coming would have disappeared.
After staring heatedly at the vehicle a moment more he turned a cold shoulder to it, thrusting his nose in the air as he walked easily over to the front door. Looking at the door he found a fire rise within him. He displayed this emotion by glaring darkly at the door as if it had done this to him. Deep down he half wished this were the case. What he would give to be able to say when asked what had happened 'Oh, nothing. I was being a klutz is all and ran into the corner of the door.' They'd all have a good laugh about it and quickly move on with their lives. He shook his head. But no. This wasn't nor would it ever be the case, he knew it.
He swallowed hard, not entirely sure of what he was doing anymore. Was this really the answer? Where things bad enough for him to be so incredibly stupid? More so he wondered if he was being selfish. He couldn't help but think of Zane and Courtney and what their reactions would be. They'd undoubtedly find out, maybe not soon or even in the week that followed but they eventually would. It'd probably get a spot on the news. 'Senior boy found brutally murdered. Person responsible is still unknown. More updates later.' He smirked in a bittersweet manner. He'd certainly get attention, that was a given. He'd get what he craved so desperately. He might even, if lucky, get the sympathy of his so called father.
This notion was what tipped the scale, outweighing the feelings of his best friend and Courtney. He'd searched for his father's approval since he was young, never doing enough to get it. Maybe this would be enough. He slowly reached out for the doorknob, turning the knob and pushing the squeaky door open in the same fashion. The place was the same as when he'd left it. Nothing had been moved even the slightest inch. Duncan was mildly surprised since his mother was absent, the neat freak, and his father was here, the slob. Still, Duncan supposed it was just him respecting her quirk. He was nice to her.
"What the hell?" a roaring voice sounded about him as the figure of his father appeared before him in the hall, eyes ablaze and mouth curved in a deep frown.
Duncan didn't move, arms folded across his chest as the door fell back shut with a bang. "Nice to see you too." He sneered.
His father looked like he would snap more so then he did, his mouth twitching and fists clenching almost instinctively. "What the hell are you doing here?" his words were coated with malice.
"In case you didn't know I live here too. Unless I've suddenly been evicted." Duncan quipped sarcastically, face stone cold.
His father emitted a loud growl, fists trembling from the effort it was taking him to control himself in the moment. "Yeah! And right now your ass is supposed to be sitting in a seat at school, not here!" he licked his lips in satisfaction, knowing his son would have a witty remark in return.
Duncan rolled his eyes. "Like I care. It's such a waste of time. I never go." he allowed the smallest of smirks to make itself known on his lips, eyes dancing with a fire similar to the one he saw in his fathers whenever they were in the same room.
His fathers eyes shot wide open, anger flaring up even more. "You better not mean it!" he warned. "Or else." he threatened in all seriousness.
Duncan didn't doubt he meant it, but all in all he didn't give a damn. Pressing his buttons always gave him a sick satisfaction much like his father got when he cut Duncan down. He didn't like to admit it, but they were far to alike for his liking. It mattered not that Duncan struggled day in and day out to be different. There were just some things one could never change, especially when bonded by blood. "You better believe I mean it." Duncan growled, lowering his arms to his side. "Remember, rule one, liars deserve no pity and are destined to die." the rule was a harsh one, but a rule none the less. He'd grown up with it, grown up trying his best to follow it while simultaneously doing the exact opposite when anywhere else. If that wasn't a contradiction he didn't know what was.
This cut another thread of his father's patience, bringing him closer to the breaking point. "Impudent whelp!" he barked. "Don't lecture me on my own rules! You're only biding your time! And it's not about to work!"
Duncan snorted, flipping a strand of hair out of his face. "If you say so all mighty ruler." he paused as he intensified his hard gaze on his father. "But no matter what you think, you don't know me."
"Shut up!" he cried, a fire practically engulfing his body from the amount of rage he was feeling toward his so called son. "You're my son! I know you more than any other God forsaken person in this damn world!" He didn't care how much of an ass he sounded like to the kid, Duncan was absolutely not allowed to show the same amount of disrespect toward him. He knew he knew this and was intentionally trying to work him up. It didn't make a lick of sense. Sure he'd done it once before, but he had been but a child then and not fully understood the effect his back talking would have. Now, however, Duncan wasn't so naïve. Did he want to die?
Duncan didn't move, not even to cringe at the loud volume of his father's voice. "So you always say." he grumbled. "But that's only because you're the only God forsaken one here."
His father shook his head violently. "That's it!" he bellowed, lashing out and hitting Duncan hard across the face with his large fist.
The blow stung like all get out, more than anything Courtney could ever hope to dish out, but he barely showed it. He grit his teeth slightly as he was sent into the wall of the hall with much force, but that was it.
His father's breathing was above normal now, that adrenaline rush he loved most when hurting his only child pushing him to do more. However he restrained himself for a moment to say, "Well?" he spat. "Got anything else to say smart ass?" a smug smirk was plastered on his face.
Duncan slowly pushed himself off the wall, staring his father down with the coldest of glares. If the bruise hadn't been bad before it would certainly swell up to mass proportions now. "Bring it on." he hissed.
This made the man hesitate a fraction of a second, caught off guard by Duncan's eagerness to mingle with him. Yet it wasn't enough to stop him from fulfilling his wish. He came at him again, hitting him square on in the face, a loud crack issuing afterward.
Duncan took it without making a sound, the crack only perturbing him slightly. He knew what it meant. His nose was without a doubt broken. He gripped it tenderly as he stumbled back, struggling to remain standing. "Try it again." he urged him on.
His father, despite the rush he was getting, knew something was wrong for sure now. Duncan had an uncanny ability to recognize when he was an instant away from snapping and avoid any hit nine times out of ten. The only reason he could think of for him not putting this skill to use was that he wanted to be punished. "What's fucking wrong with you?" he screamed.
"Good question." he mocked. "Why don't you tell me? I've been dieing to know ever so long." he intentionally aimed at sounding like one of those characters from old movies who his father hated so.
His father didn't even bother saying anything back, he just seized Duncan by the throat, raising him up into the air a few inches as he steadily tightened his grip.
Duncan saw this coming, like everything else his father had done today, but didn't move to stop it. In his mind he was getting what everyone else thought he deserved. So even as his airways became constricted he did nothing.
His still body annoyed his father greatly. It was barely any fun messing with a submissive victim. "Come on!" he snapped, punching him across the face with his free hand. "Fight back!"
Duncan let his eyes fall shut, ignoring his father.
"I said FIGHT!" he was screaming so loud that he was sure a passerby could have heard easy.
Duncan was feeling lightheaded now, his mind shutting down on him. He had but a few moments of not needing air left in him before his natural instinct of gasping for a breath would kick in. That's what his father wanted anyway.
"Damn it Duncan!" he roared, slamming his head brutally into the wall. "Don't ignore me!"
Duncan grunted painfully deep in his throat, the sound not making it all the way out from his constricted throat.
"I'm gonna kill you!" he snarled, grabbing a mirror from the wall and smashing it down on Duncan's head. The glass shattered into multiple shards, cutting the tender skin of his forehead, cheeks, the space around his eyes, and even his lips as it fell to the floor at their feet.
Duncan's vision was blurring, the pain not registering in his quickly fading mind. All he felt was the strain the lack of oxygen was putting on his lungs and heart and the burning sensation in his eyes that was fresh tears. And then he smiled.
That was the most unnerving thing for his dad. Duncan had stopped smiling at him by the time he was seven. He hid any sign of happiness for fear that it would be crushed by his impulsive dad. This was why, in this moment of high tension and uncontrollable fury, he started. Seeing that smile which he had forgotten in the years was like a shot to the heart. He suddenly felt like all parents should, like Duncan's mother did every moment of the day. And it sucked. "Shit!" he yelped, releasing his grip on Duncan's throat and dropped him to the ground.
Duncan hit the ground with a thud accompanied by a sharp intake of breath and a string of rapid breaths in and out. Even though Duncan had been perfectly content with the fate he was being handed his body didn't think the same. It was doing all in its power to regulate his functions.
"You dumbass!" his father screeched, lip trembling. "You wanted me to kill you?" it was a half question, him knowing the answer without it having to be spoken. "Idiot!" he kicked Duncan in the stomach then, a look of pure disgust ever present. "And you. Remember rule four. Never, ever, throw your life away. It's worth more then you'll ever know." with a snort and the roll of his eyes he stomped back into the living room.
Duncan lay there, propped up on one arm, eyes wide and mouth agape in a stunned expression, body trembling uncontrollably as he watched his father deliver one last blow before leaving him to himself. He would have gotten back up and followed the bastard if only he could find the will. That look that played across his face for a fraction of a second was to much for Duncan though. He'd not seen that look of fear in his fathers stone clod gaze since forever ago, since this mess started. To see it now, when faced with the possibility that his only child wanted to die, meant more then the world. In fact, it was so important to him that a shaky smile worked its way on to his cracked lips and eyes danced with genuine joy. He was even laughing softly as he laid his head down on the floor amongst the shards of glass. They pierced his skin, but, like everything else in this moment, it mattered not. In a matter of a week or two the scars would have healed. The only thing that would remain would be this feeling of giddiness at having caught his father, his freaking father for crying out loud, off guard. Nothing would ever erase it, nothing at all.
...
She'd hoped and prayed beyond reason that Duncan would appear in class the next day. She even went so far as to say she'd not ever be mean to him in any way, no matter how much of an ass he was to her. Still, when she walked into class on Friday he was nowhere to be found. She moaned to herself, going off on him as if he were there listening the whole day. She knew anyone close enough to hear her ranting, mainly Zane, would brand her as marginally insane, but it mattered little in the grand scheme of things. She was desperate to know whether or not Duncan was alright, how hurt he was if that were the case, or what. She needed to know. The asshole wasn't going to get away just like that! She refused to allow it! After all the shit he'd forced her to endure, good and bad, there was no way in the world he would up and leave.
Unfortunately for Courtney, Duncan didn't return Monday either, nor did she see his face once that entire week. He remained absent in all classes, after school activities, and even the skate park. She went there every day that week too. She figured that if he was willing to walk around there in the dead of night he'd have no problem doing so when he could blend in with the crowd. But no. Duncan did not have the same line of thinking as her. When he went missing he really went missing. He made sure that no one, not even Zane, could find him for the allotted amount of time. Of course this meant staying in his dreaded household, but sometimes, like now, it was worth it. It helped that his father didn't touch him again during the span of the week due to shame, otherwise it would have been beyond torture. Now, however, Duncan could almost say he was happy with his stay.
So as the start of the second week of his extended absence was right around the corner Courtney found herself laying absentmindedly in her bed. It was nearing ten and she knew she should be getting to sleep, she just couldn't. Duncan was heavy on her brain as she stared intently at the designs on her ceiling. She wished he'd stop this game of his and come back to school if not for her then for Zane. His demeanor had suffered greatly since he left. He'd went from a perky boy without a care in the world to someone she scarcely recognized. He was always looking at the floor, anywhere but at her, barely speaking, biting his lip nervously, twiddling his thumbs, and going off into his own little world. It hurt her more than anything else. That was why Duncan had to come back.
"Courtney!" her mother's sharp voice called up to her. "Do I see your light on?"
Courtney rolled her eyes. It was a rhetorical question if she ever heard one. Her mother was basically telling her to turn her light off without saying it. "Yes!" she cried in return, jumping up off the bed and hurriedly flipping the switch off so that her mother wouldn't have a chance to call her out on her fib. She sighed sadly. If only that was all there was to worry over.
She stood there for a time, half listening for her mothers footsteps, half pretending there was something to do that required her to be here, in this very spot. But it was for naught. Nothing came, nothing but her soft sobs and a light trail of tears as she rested her forehead up against the wall. And for once she was not ashamed. With no one to hear or see it was as if it never happened. Her tears meant nothing to anyone. Only she could vouch for the fact she was indeed crying, crying for a troublesome punk and his asinine habits. Although, she wasn't so much crying for him as she was for herself and her careless action that had driven him away. If she hadn't done what she had he would still be here and Zane wouldn't be acting weird.
But all this didn't change one thing. Her feelings toward the punk remained. "I hate you…" she whispered dully, sliding down the wall to the floor where she eventually fell into a disturbed slumber, witnessing things she was powerless to control. It was similar to her real life where she was more a spectator to the occurrences then she was apart of them. And she hated it all, only able to hope for a better day. A day she was sure would never come.
...
While Courtney had rocked herself to sleep in her floor Zane had been out walking the streets of the town. He took in the sights and sounds too for once in quite a while. He allowed the chirps of the crickets to soothe him, the occasional bark of a dog to keep him alert enough, the whistle of the wind to keep a small smile on his lips, and the traffic passing by to make him see that not even in the dead of night was one alone. The sights didn't so the same as the sounds, but they were there none the less. The gentle swaying of the trees made good rhythm, the street lights reminded him that even in the darkest of times nothing was ever so dim that you couldn't see the future, and the solid concrete made him feel as if he had a good grip on the circumstances of his life. It may sound, but it was his way of thinking. He continued thinking it too as he veered off of the road into the thick uncut grass of a spot near the edge of town.
He had been stupid and didn't wear pants so the grass itched as it pressed and pulled against his legs. Although he didn't let this annoyance deter him. He came here for a reason and he would not leave until he finished the chore. So he waded through it for another ten minutes or so until it gradually started to shorten. And in another minute or two it was cut clean like all people's yards were, revealing a large lake in the center. It was dead quiet here, not even the creatures of the night dared breathe a sound. It was the only place in the town, the only place he'd go.
Zane surveyed the place thoroughly, not allowing an inch of the place to escape his eyes. And sure enough there he was. He was sitting out at the edge of the dock that jutted out over the water with a dull look in his eyes. He was slumped over like usual, a good sign, absently staring out over the water, arms set in his lap with his hands clasped together. Zane didn't like the way he was sitting so still that he could be mistaken as a statue, barely breathing, but other than that he was elated. "Duncan…" he whispered, a smile passing his lips for the first time in two weeks. He'd missed his friend dearly and found no greater pleasure than being able to say he had found him. It wasn't some stranger or Courtney, it was him. He found no better way.
"Duncan." he said stronger as he walked over to and down the dock, the old wood creaking with every step he took. "You came here then did you?" he added as he reached the end, lowering himself so that he was sitting down in a similar position to Duncan on the edge of the dock.
Duncan remained silent, gaze glued to the horizon. He was bent on acting as if Zane did not exist. He wasn't supposed to be here. He didn't want him to be. At least his conscious mind didn't. Of course a part of him obviously wanted to be found if he were here. He knew that Zane would eventually come here once the days stretched into weeks. It was one of their places to reconvene after a messy event. It had been since they were kids. It was somewhere no one else would think to look, being so far out from the central part of town, and Zane would know to look after so long.
Zane didn't let his smile slip just yet. He understood that Duncan was hurt in more ways than one. "Remember?" he started, looking up at the black mass that was the sky. "We used to come here all the time." he chuckled lightly, a pain hidden in the action. "Whenever life got to hard this was our escape. We'd fish, swim, and just sit and talk about things."
Duncan still refrained from speaking. He did however sneakily glance out of the corner of his eye at his friend. He wanted to see if these words were nothing more than a ploy to get his butt back in school or if there was truly an emotion attached to them.
He smirked, pain glinting in his eyes. "As we got older we stopped frequenting this place. It was no longer the same as it had been, we didn't play." he clasped his hands between his knees and swung them gently. "And soon all that was left to say this was touched by two boys looking for fun was our memories. At that point our presence here meant only one thing…we were hurt." e swallowed hard. "Whether that was me worrying over my parents marriage or you…" he trailed off, tentatively picking back up a moment later. "…being abused." Zane cringed, hating the taste of the words in his mouth. He had sworn never to utter these words, not even to Duncan, but he had to now. If this didn't wake him up from his trance nothing would.
Duncan started, eyes widening as alarm flashed in their depths. He knew Zane only did it to get a sign that he was alive, but it didn't help. Back when they were eleven, when he'd told him, he'd made him promise to never even breathe a word concerning it. The only exceptions were when Duncan was having a fit and desperately needed to be soothed with certain reminders of it. "You promised." Duncan whispered, glaring off into the distance again.
Zane sighed in relief as Duncan finally broke the silence. "I know." he murmured. "But I had to. You desperately needed me to."
Duncan's mouth turned down into a deep frown, hating how he was using his own words from back then against him now. He deeply loathed how that worked. Making conditional promises could help or, in cases such as now, come back to bite you in the butt big time. "Whatever."
Zane smiled wanly, sadness showing more prominently than the happiness. "I'm just glad you're alright." he muttered.
Duncan snorted. "If you can call it that."
Zane cringed. "I'm…I…" he struggled to find words to make up for his poor choice of words, coming up with nothing but misery. "…didn't mean it that way…" he muttered in a hushed tone that Duncan wouldn't hear. He lowered his gaze down to the murky water below them, eyes shining with bitterness. For an instant even he thought of where he'd be if he'd never met Duncan, never been dragged into his hellish life. There would be not unquailable fits, no extended periods of absence, and few points where Duncan acted like he wasn't alive. But this longing was a momentary weakness. Really he'd never give this up, not for anything. He cared about Duncan and the things that happened to him. It was merely the human condition to wish for something more than they had. He didn't mean it one little bit.
Duncan saw that he had deeply hurt Zane and felt immediate guilt. He sighed softly. "Sorry…" he grumbled, unclasping his hands and rubbed the back of his head with one.
Zane shook his head. "It's nothing." a pause. "I should've said it different."
Duncan grit his teeth. "No." he sighed heavily. "That's just it. You shouldn't have to say it any different. If I were any other guy you wouldn't have to." it pained him greatly to admit it, no matter how subtle, to say that Zane's life would be far better if he didn't have to tiptoe around the sensitive subject of Duncan's life. But it was the truth.
Zane hated when things got to deep like this. It was why they avoided this subject like they did, it always led to the thing they both knew but never said, an unspoken taboo if you will, of Zane's life without Duncan taking up his time and attention. "So." he shrugged. "I wouldn't trade this for anything." he admitted with a soft chuckle.
Duncan smiled for the first time the whole conversation. He loved hearing these words from Zane's mouth. It was an unspoken truth, but it felt more real when said aloud. "Thanks…"
Zane looked over into Duncan's teal orbs, seeing real happiness lying within them. "Any time."
Duncan looked back at Zane for a minute, letting the silence engulf them, before he tore his eyes from him back to the horizon. "But I'm not going back." he growled, pleased eyes turning cold as a scowl made itself known.
Zane frowned, sighing irritably. "I knew you'd do this." he shook his head. "Duncan. You can't avoid it forever. You know that."
Duncan snorted, sticking his nose in the air. "Says you. I can do whatever. Dad's to ashamed to do shit to me now." his voice held a smile.
Zane's eyes widened. "Really? He…hasn't hurt you…?"
Duncan shook his head in the negative. "Nope. Not after that first day." his smile faltered at these words, him biting down on his lip to hid the obvious contempt and sadness.
Zane was tentative to ask, but he did it. "So…what did he do…?"
Duncan stiffened. Dangerous territory. Then again, they'd already torn across multiple subjects in the same category. What was one more? "You don't want to know." he grumbled, moving a hand to his cheek on the far side of Zane.
Zane figured any bruises from then would be gone now, but the emotional pain wouldn't dissipate. "Are the bruises gone?" he pressed, reaching for Duncan's face so he could turn it about to face him.
A fire flared up in Duncan's eyes at the contact. He hated being touched. No matter who it was his instinctive thought was that they were going to hurt him. The only exception being his mother and if he was in to much turmoil to care. But he didn't act out like he might have with anyone else.
Zane noticed the contempt that entered Duncan's eyes, but ignored it. He wanted to see if there was any lasting damage. From what he saw his nose was still a bit messed up and he had a few tiny scars on his cheek and forehead from being cut by something sharp. Zane guessed shards from a mirror. He'd seen it before. "I think you're ok." he paused as he ran a finger over the nose. "No one at school with care about these scars. You can say you crashed your dirt bike or something. Same goes for the nose."
Duncan growled lightly. "You don't understand. Them just asking makes me…" he trailed off, jerking his head from Zane's hand. "Just…"
"I get it…" Zane grumbled. "But you have to come back." he insisted.
Duncan crossed his arms over his chest, snorting. "Yeah, right. You can't make me."
"Duncan." he said it sharply, knowing Duncan wouldn't crack at this point. "It's not me that cares."
Duncan started. "Then why the hell are you here?" he cried, eyeing him suspiciously.
Zane rolled his eyes. "Relax." his frown deepened. "I'm not on a mission to sabotage you." he chuckled, humor fading fast. "It's Courtney…" he murmured.
Duncan's eyes widened. "What?" he spit out in disbelief. "That little prep girl that you won't let me screw with?" he snorted. "Right."
"I don't know why but she hasn't been herself since you disappeared."
"Probably guilty. Nothing more." Duncan said with a smirk, amused by the notion.
Zane scowled. "Even if so you shouldn't let her suffer like that. It's wrong."
"Look, I'm not going back." Duncan said sternly. "Not for you, or her, or any one else in that damn school. It's just not happening. Got it?"
"Fine." Zane growled, standing up above him. "But don't expect me to have anything to do with you then." he turned about, in a huff, and walked back down the dock. Upon stepping onto the soft grass however he stopped dead. A smug smirk crept onto his face and his eyes glinted with amusement."Fine." Duncan replied with a hint of uncertainty, peeking around to see if Zane really was going to leave."But I won't tell you about this game either." Zane snickered.
Duncan perked, turning fully around as he stood up. "Game?" he was mildly intrigued. "What game?"
Zane's grin grew wider. "I told you. I'm not saying a word until I see you back at school." he paused to consider the right way to word his next phrase. "You won't be able to play anyway if you're not there."
Duncan snorted, crossing his arms. "What could possibly be fun at that hellhole?" he grumbled, trotting over to stand at Zane's side. "Hmm?"
Zane shrugged, looking blankly at him. "I can't say. I guess you'll have to come back or never know what your missing out on."
Duncan rolled his eyes. "Whatever." he grumbled, pretty sure that Zane was lying about this supposed game. Him being so gifted at reading expressions both intentional and intentional was handy. However Zane could, on occasions, bluff an emotion to reel Duncan in and get him to do something he'd otherwise never consider. He had the sneaky suspicion this was one of those times.
Zane chuckled softly at his friend. He knew what Duncan was thinking and he was right. Zane had no idea what he was going to tell Duncan when he walked through the doors of the school tomorrow. He was making it up as he went along. "Just think about it then, k?" Zane murmured, touching Duncan on the shoulder as a goodbye before he set off through the grass the way he had come.
"So full of it." Duncan said to himself as Zane got further away. "He thinks I'm gonna fall for that bullshit." he snorted. "Yeah, right. I'm not stupid." Duncan stood there a moment more, Zane's words beating down on him, before he turned and went his own way back home. All the while he couldn't help but wonder what it was, if it existed, that Zane had under his belt. He wanted to know, needed even. And by the time he got home he was dying over not knowing. It consumed him even in sleep and practically gave him no choice but to comply. He hated how Zane could do that. Sometimes he wished he was a little less manipulative and a tiny bit dumber. If this were the case he wouldn't be stuck in this situation, tossing and turning due to the mystery of this game. But not just that. As the night went on his dreams turned to Courtney, her and her tear stained face. He say it perfectly, like that night not long ago, as she drew further into herself. He wanted to know if she truly was as messed up as Zane claimed, if she was struggling, and if she was still the same conceited prep that he left, not a shell of her former self. No, he needed to know.
For those of you have read some of my other stories you'll know what I mean when I say this goes against what I've created to be my cannon version of Duncan's childhood and present treatment. Still, for the sake of this story it fit better this way. So...yeah. I hope you liked it! :) Please review! :D