Okay, first of all, I would like to apologize for it taking so damn long. I honestly didn't mean for it to take this long, but I got caught up in my other fic, and I really wasn't feeling the muse for this one for the longest time. Plus I hate Casey POV. But here it is, finally done. I'll try not to take as long the next time, okay? Because it's going to be Derek's POV and a pretty good chapter, I think...
Anyways, this chapter's title is not only a good song, but it's a little shout-out to my friend Scented's awesome fic.
Now, I would also like to thank Derek and Heather (because talking to them on IM made me feel guilty enough to force myself to write)... And finally I would really really like to thank so damn gryffindor and all the other people who coerced me into doing this, but mainly so damn gryffindor, because that was just the wake-up call I needed to finally finish the chapter. So you guys really owe it to so damn gryffindor. Lol, though, mind you, I put off my English homework for this. Speaking of which, I really need to do that, so I'm just gonna step on it and update already.
I don't own LWD. Period.
Again, thanks for having patience in me.
"Derek doesn't care what I do and vice-versa."
"Casey, just take out the trash already!" Mom pleaded, racing to get ready for work. I could feel my eyes narrow. That is not my job. Well, I'll just have to correct that foolish assumption.
"Mom, that's Derek's job!" I whined back. It's not fair to make me do one of the few things around this place that Derek actually has to do. I mean, I do all my chores. I babysit most of the time, make dinner two nights a week... And then there's about the other five thousand things I do around here. I pull my weight around here, which is more than I can say for him.
Mom fixed me with a severe look. "Well, Casey honey, I don't know where Derek is. So here," She snapped with as much civility as she could, practically throwing the bag in my arm. Eww. Great, so now I get to do Derek's chore. I am so going to kill him when I find him. But I'm a trooper, so I walked outside with the bags unhappily. At least I was ready for school.
When I stepped outside I was surprised to run right into Derek himself. Well, speak of the devil. I almost dropped the trashbag.
There he was, looking cool as ever, leaning against the wall, smoking. He made eye contact with me and turned up the collar of his leather jacket. His eyes seemed to glare at me, but they radiated something else entirely. He glanced at me challengingly, exhaling a perfect ring of smoke. "Casey." He nodded in acknowledgment.
"Derek," I replied with some irritation. Derek didn't bat an eyelash. He just continued to lean coolly against the wall, as if I wasn't even there. I hate being ignored. Besides, I really wanted to chew him out about flaking on the garbage. I slowly walked over to the trashcan, waiting to see if he would say anything at all. He didn't, so I slammed the bag in the trash, throwing the lid on. Okay, that's it! I've had it. He is so getting it.
I turned around and before he knew what had hit him, I'd ripped the cigarette out of his hand. I threw it on the ground and stomped it out with my shoe. Derek went from calm to pissed in under sixty seconds. "Casey, what the hell!" He growled irritably, staring at me disbelievingly. I fixed him with a severe glare, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Oh, so you want cancer then?" I retorted, whacking him in the chest accidentally. Derek coughed, rubbing his chest. He glared at me and pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his coat pocket as well as a lighter. Well, apparently he doesn't care. He lit the cigarette, glowering at me, and inhaled deeply.
Then he exhaled the putrid smoke right in my face. "Oh, but second-hand smoke kills, Casey," He snarled, smoke curling around his lips. Okay, I think it's time for an intervention here. I strained to remember all the facts I could about smoking.
"It turns your teeth yellow!" I proclaimed triumphantly. Derek opened his mouth, grinning widely to prove a point. Not that it was a happy smile. It was more of a smirk, really.
"That's why I use whitening toothpaste," He retorted, exhaling again. He flashed a bright, brilliant, white smile to prove his point. His teeth are amazing, practically blinding. He challenged me with his stare. Okay, so I'm going to have to try harder.
"Your extremities become cold," I exclaimed, crossing my arms over my chest. By extremities, I mean hands, not... Well, you know. Derek snorted, glaring at me.
"My hands are cold already. In case you didn't notice, we happen to live in Canada," He countered smugly. Oh, so he thought he was winning? Well, two can play this game. I just have to think of something better.
"Your skin turns yellow, and you get wrinkles faster," I stated bluntly, stepping it up a lot. Derek merely looked amused. Hm, maybe that might actually get to him. He's so vain, after all. I wonder how many hours he spends on my hair.
"I've got good skin. Besides, that sort of thing only matters if you're a girl," Derek muttered flippantly. Which he is so clearly not. Apparently, wrinkles give him character, so he doesn't fear them. Okay, I'm going to have to step it up a notch here. I glared at him, wondering exactly why I was doing this.
"It makes it harder to breathe," I said, struggling to keep my head afloat in this argument. Derek looked at me like I was crazy. He didn't have asthma or anything. He's probably in better shape than I am, actually. And besides, it's not like you run in hockey. You just skate. But I don't really know, since he refuses to let me go to his games... Despite the fact that my boyfriend's on his team too!
Derek regarded me coolly. "I'm in good shape," He said stubbornly, exhaling showily to prove his point. He never coughed on the smoke. I don't get how he can't choke. I need to write some more poetry... I'm rhyming about Derek. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time I've rhymed about Derek... In fact, I've got one notebook filled with poetry about "Life With Derek" for every month I've been here. Those are a lot of poems, my friend.
"You smell like smoke," I muttered, coughing on the air and trying to fan it away. Ick. How have I never noticed that he was a smoker before? His laundry has smelled like smoke before, but I thought that was because he was always hanging out at clubs. And his jacket always smells like smoke.
Derek just shrugged distractedly, looking entirely unaffected. He always looks unaffected. Does he ever get rattled by something? Anything! Even when I was... uh, choking him... he was still the smug bastard I've always known him to be. "Some girls like that," Derek mumbled disinterestedly. He was just staring off into space.
You see... Derek's been acting pretty weird lately. Normally, he would jump at any chance to irritate me. Or, as of lately, hit on me. But he's been ignoring me, and that's just so... not Derek. "And it makes other girls gag," I said snidely, shooting Derek a look. Girls. I knew that would affect him. They're all he thinks about, really.
But Derek barely even looked up. He just tilted his head up and exhaled a plume of smoke. His eyes remained fixed on the sky, pointedly avoiding looking at me. Something had changed with Derek. "Not the ones I date..." He replied calmly with a bit of a suggestive air. Ugh, I gag thinking about his bimbos. He glanced briefly at me, dark eyes flicking over me.
Now we were on familiar ground. Derek's being a pervert again. Okay, I can deal with this. I felt slightly more confident. At least he was paying attention to me now. I rolled my eyes. Smoking is unhealthy and just plain gross. And Derek is disgusting enough without the cancer sticks. I frowned distastefully. "Your mouth tastes like an ashtray. No one will ever want to kiss you again," I pointed out tactlessly.
Derek rolled his eyes and snorted. He wasn't buying any of it. Ugh, he's too damn confident for his own good. I know he's lucky with girls, but you can't get that lucky. I don't care how much charisma he has. I might just be the only person on the planet that isn't falling for him and his lies. "First of all, I highly doubt that. And that's why I use mouthwash. Besides, what concern is that of yours? It's not like you want to kiss me..." Derek countered darkly. He turned the full force of his glare on me.
His eyes darkened even further, and I could tell he was angry. Why was he angry though? Oh, what, was I ruining his smoking break? He gave up that right to privacy a while ago. "Shut up, Derek. And get that godforsaken cancer stick out of your mouth," I ordered authoritatively. But Derek just rolled his eyes.
For a few minutes, he said nothing, trying to pretend that I hadn't either. But then, I saw the hard look on his face. He looked determined. So I was stunned when he pushed himself off the wall, striding towards me purposefully. I gulped nervously, but for once, Derek didn't smirk. His eyes burned into me, stabbing into me. "Why do you even care? You hate me, remember? Remember? You hate me. I make your skin crawl. You despise everything about me. You've despised me since Day One, remember?" Derek snapped resentfully, throwing my own words back at me. Suddenly, I felt terrible. Had those words actually hurt him? They were so cruel, so heartless... Like something Derek would say. But even he's never said anything that bad.
I took a deep breath and started. "You're my brother. And I highly doubt that poisonous substances are good for you. And guess what's in those death sticks of yours... Tar, which is also used on roads and made out of crude oil. Nicotine, one of the most addictive substances known to man. Ammonia, which is in bleach and urine. Urea, which is again, in urine. Hydrogen cyanide, which is in rat poison. Carbon monoxide, which kills you silently. Arsenic and Mercury, other poisons. DDT, an insecticide that's now banned. Toluene and acetone, ingredients in nail polish. Methane gas, which cows fart every day. Laughing gas. Numerous acids. Benzene and Butane. Formaldehyde, which is used to preserve dead bodies. Not to mention all the various radioactive substances like radon, radium-226, lead-210, and polonium-210. Just to name a few," I stated matter-of-factly, rattling them off.
Derek rolled his eyes. "Nice laundry list you've got there, Case. But what you forgot to mention is that a lot of the ingredients are actually harmless, and I'm not addicted to them. I can stop anytime I want. Trust me, I know cigarettes hurt," He interjected, actually having a bit of a point. But nicotine's addictive. You have to be really strong to get over it. And for some reason, I don't think Derek's got that kind of internal fortitude.
I crossed my arms over my chest skeptically. "What, did your mom die of lung cancer?" I remarked casually. It came off a lot ruder than I meant, but I hadn't meant in an offensive way. No one ever talked about Derek's mom. Ever. I was curious.
I have never seen Derek that furious in my life, and believe me, I've gotten him pretty mad before. Out of nowhere, he shoved me backwards, and suddenly, I was pinned flat against the wall. My back was only tingling a little. My eyes were as wide as saucers. I don't know how, but he was in my face before I knew it. It's weird for me to say this, since I've, well, you know... But somehow that was the closest he'd ever been to me.
His stare locked with mine. I was blown away by the sheer fury I saw there. He leaned in to whisper in my ear. He didn't seem affected by my prescence in the slightest this time. "If you ever mention my mother again, I'll make you wish you were never born. Got it, McDonald?" Derek hissed venemously, abruptly jerking his head back, searching me with his gaze. I couldn't speak; I was terrified. I managed to nod weakly, and Derek nodded succintly before moving away.
I sighed, relieved. Derek didn't say anything. He simply stared out at the street. I don't know what he was waiting for, really. I wanted to say something, but I was afraid. Finally, an with unreadable, distant look on his face, he turned back around again and walked over to me. He flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette and pulled up his sleeve, as if to show me something. He met my eyes briefly.
"But there are things worse than physical pain," Derek said, sounding oddly mysterious. Then he responded by bringing the lit end of the cigarette down on the middle of his forearm. For a moment, I was stunned. I glanced at Derek's face. He grimaced a little, but other than that, showed only minimal expression. He didn't make a sound. He just bit his lip. You couldn't even tell if it was hurting him, but it had to be. What was he trying to do? Be tough?
Almost reflexively, I slapped his hand and knocked the cigarette out of his fingers. I promptly stomped on it, and Derek only stared at me in surprise. That was when it became clear to me that something was very, very wrong here. I glanced down at his arm. It was a small reddish pink circle with a few white hot ashes scattered about. It looked bad, but not as bad as it could've been. It might not even leave a scar.
Without thinking, I gently wiped away the ashes that still remained, and, grabbing him by the wrist, I pulled him inside. Derek blinked confusedly. I dragged him past a very bamboozled family and into the bathroom. I knew from experience that the first thing you do with a burn is rinse it in cool water. It makes it feel better. I placed Derek's arm under the faucet and did so before applying some Neosporin and then a band-aid. Then I washed my hands and both of us left the bathroom.
When we got out, I couldn't help but notice Derek was smirking at me. I rolled my eyes at him. What is it now, I wondered. It turns out I didn't even have to ask. Derek had apparently had a moodswing because he smiled widely at me. "Looks like you do care about me after all," He muttered underneath his breath, thinking I didn't hear him. Only I did, and that only confused me more. Then he looked over at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and ruffling my hair. He looked happier than he'd been in a while. "Come on, I'll drive you to school..." He offered, walking outside with me. Derek never offered to drive me anywhere, so I jumped at the offer.
My first classes were pleasant enough, I suppose, but they weren't earth-shattering. And then it came time for Gym. Now, I detest Gym for several reasons. One would be because of the whole Klutzilla thing. Another would be the general humiliation. And the final reason is... of course... Derek. He's in my Gym class, and he never lets me forget it.
It began normally. Coach told us we would be playing Dodgeball. I despise Dodgeball above all other "sports", mind you. It's an unfair, excessively violent game that deliberately targets the weak. And is it ever painful! It's even worse when you play with guys. I still haven't gotten used to co-ed gym. Naturally, Derek is an expert at it. Coach, who has an IQ of approximately six, declared that it would be Boys vs. Girls. Naturally, he chose Derek as captain of the boys team. Well, that was obvious. But then, wonder of wonders, mystery of mysteries, he chooses me as captain of the girls team.
As is anything involving Derek and myself, the game grew intense fast. Somehow we both managed to pump up our teams into a competitive frenzy, battling for every point. We would come close to winning and then someone would manage to get the whole team back up and vice-versa. That being said, it didn't stop some of the stupider team members from repeatedly checking out members of the opposite sex. Derek himself was a particular target of admiring eyes. Ugh, it disgusts me.
That being said, Derek's team won the first game. I soon learned just how little mercy he had. He got me out five times. Five. In fact, he seemed to specifically target me, of all people. A fact which, knowing Derek, really didn't surprise me. The next game, I compensated by getting him out twice. Hey, I used to play softball... He's not the only one who can throw hard. And by hard, I mean that it knocks the wind out of you, and you're worried about bruising. Yeah, ouch.
We won the next game through great effort and a wonderful speech on my part about the terrible things Derek had done and why not to look at him. And then we were tied. Everyone went crazy on the third game, fighting hard to win everyone back in so there was never a clear winner. But somehow, both of the people on our teams who fought for these things got out. And then it was just me standing alone on a barren wasteland, crowded at the sides, with Derek standing fiercely across from me. We each held two balls: one for throwing and one for defense. We'd both been out three times. I was improving; Derek was slipping.
There were two things we could do. One of us could try for the elusive shot to get everyone on their time back, surely spelling out the other team's doom. But that was a risky move, and if you did that, you risked losing if you missed or if the other person hit you. Or you could try and hit the other person, but they could just as easily block it with the balls. So we were pretty much at a stalemate.
We stared each other down, waiting for the other person to make the first move. No one did anything. No one even said anything. The room was tense with our rivalry, tense with suspense. But still, neither of us did anything. We were like statues, not even moving. Just staring each other down. Our gazes locked, and I don't think either of us could've looked away if we tried. That would mean backing down, and that's something we just don't do.
And then, as we stood there waiting for someone to make a move, the bell rung. The rest of the class ran out, but Derek and I both stayed. We didn't budge an inch. We were determined not to back down. Finally, Coach cleared his throat. "Venturi! McDonald! ...You can, um, go now..." He barked awkwardly.
Both Derek and I looked at him, and then we snapped out of it. We immediately dropped the balls, still tense and annoyed that we'd reached a stalemate. We shot each other vicious glances and then turned and exited out of opposing doors. When I got in the locker room, I was met head-on by pretty much all the girls in my gym class. I blinked in confusion.
"What was that about?" One girl asked. What, just what am I supposed to say? Oh, yeah, Derek sort of made out with me two weeks ago, and things have been super-awkward ever since? Yeah, that'll go over really well. I sighed and broke through them.
"Nothing, nothing... Things have just been... completely crazy around the house lately. It's... Weird," I mumbled, rushing over to my locker, hurrying to open it so I wouldn't have to face the questions I couldn't answer. I fumbled with my clothing, sensing Emily coming up to ask me a question. I pulled on my jeans, threw my gym shorts in the locker, and ripped my shirt off, which sent ripples of pain through my back, which had bruised to that nasty yellowy-green color. The bruises on my hips were a dark purple, so dark it was almost black.
I'd somehow managed to get used to them, though. I was careful and light, so it didn't hurt much. But Emily must've seen them, because she gasped, looking at me strangely. Then she pulled me aside, thwarting my attempt to get the new shirt over my head. "Casey, are you okay?" Emily questioned concernedly. I gave her a weird look and nodded, pulling my shirt over my head.
But Emily was still looking at me weirdly. "You sure?" She persisted. I nodded again, feeling vaguely annoyed. I walked past her and started to put on my socks. I looked up to grab my shoes, and suddenly, there she was. I jumped about twelve feet in the air.
Clutching my chest, I glared at her. "Jeez, Em! Don't ever do that again!" I exclaimed, trying to catch my breath. She still fixed me with a decidedly funny look, like she thought I was hiding something. "What!" I shrieked irritably.
Emily looked vaguely uncomfortable. What's wrong with her? She peered at her feet, deliberately trying to avoid my eyes. What is it? "Well, Casey... it looks like..." Emily started to say, but then stopped cold. Crossing my arms over my chest, I gave her a look. Come on, Em, just spill it already! Emily glanced around and then leaned in to whisper it in my ear. "It looks like... like you got RAPED," Emily hissed, backing away nervously.
My jaw dropped. The bruises can't be that bad. Can they? I stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. I really couldn't think of anything to say. I sat down on the bench and started to put my shoes on. "Well, that's not what happened," I said quietly. I didn't look at her. "If you must know, Derek and I got into a... fight," I muttered darkly.
Wow, Casey... That's an interesting way of saying what Derek did to you. Now, if I recall correctly, and I always do... You were the one who attacked him. Oh, shut up! I glanced up to find Emily gaping at me. She sat down next to me on the bench, looking shell-shocked. "Derek did that to you!" She whispered, eyes wide. Oh, no... She thinks Derek and I got physical. Okay, that sounds so wrong... and so much like what actually happened.
I shook my head, feeling somewhat horrified. "No... Uh, it happened at the party. He was sort of pushing away, I was sort of, um, not going with that... And I kind of tried to strangle him the other morning, so it all works out. Really. Doesn't even hurt," I stuttered, feeling nervous. Emily gave me a look. Okay, so she might not completely buy it... But that can be fixed... right?
Emily raised an eyebrow. "You tried to strangle him?" She asked skeptically. Oh, and here I thought she was going to ask something scary... She didn't mention the dancing. Phew. It's weird that she doesn't believe that part, though, the strangling is sort of the only part I'm not really lying about. I nodded a bit frustratedly.
"Yeah... Lizzie and Edwin had to pull me off of him. It got sort of crazy. You know what they say... When the parents are away, the kids will play," I said casually, as if I wasn't talking about how I'd almost killed Derek two weeks ago. Not that he was very affected by it at all. Derek never is...
I mean, okay, I don't normally think about Derek in my free time. It's just complicated... He's simultaneously everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Does that sound as confusing as it is? To make matters worse, our English teacher thought up another project, and, well, this time she actually assigned partners. We're supposed to do a scene from a Midsummer Night's Dream. Derek despises Shakespeare. You don't even have to look at him to know that. But, of course, it couldn't be that easy... No, I'm stuck playing Titania with him as my Oberon.
No, no, not my Oberon. Just Oberon... Do they share any scenes that aren't sort of romantic? Yeah, I didn't think so. Despite a lot of pleading on my part ("He's my stepbrother! You can't seriously expect me to perform a romantic scene with him!"), it was to no avail. She said that for one, it was far too late to change partners now that everyone already had them. Then she pointed out and I quote; "Derek seems to have no objections." Well, of course Derek has no objections! I swear, the guy's been trying to jump me for the better part of a month! She continued to point out that; "You two presented a report as Percy and Mary Shelley, a married couple. And if you can do that, then why can't you do this?" I almost killed her right there on the spot... Ugh, the way Derek was smirking at me so... so... infuriatingly!
And that's why I really hate to say this... Why I hate the fact that he's got me thinking about him again. Here it is, lunch time, and I'm staring at Derek across the lunchroom, surrounded by desperate girls. I swear, are they trying to be the newest notch on his bedpost? I'm not joking, that's the sad part. He keeps track on the back of his bedpost. That and I'm sure there's some little book somewhere with all the dirt inside.
The thing is... I'm worried about him. Really, really worried about him. There, I said it! Ugh, who could imagine me, Casey McDonald, worrying about Derek Venturi, of all people? Well, that's the reality... I...
Okay, this is how it is... Derek's changed a lot over the past few weeks. Some would even call drastic. He thinks that I don't notice. He probably thinks no one notices, but Derek is about as subtle as a drunk mastodon. That's a fitting analogy considering he comes home bombed five days out of seven, sometimes even six. I pity his poor liver. About half the time there's some similarly wasted chippy with him, and the other half of the time, someone sober (usually Sam or Amy) helps him in. He never talks to me when he's drunk. He just gets really stiff and tries not to act wasted. If he sees me, even if we lock eyes, he'll pretend I'm not there.
Pride's a stupid thing, but I guess it's all Derek's got, since he lacks modesty or shame.
It's not just that he's hopelessly wasted over half the week, or that he smokes so much his voice is scratchy. He smells differently now, and not a good different... He smells like cigarette smoke, booze, sweat, and sex, which pretty much sums up his activities nowadays.
He's been avoiding doing his chores and slacking on his homework even more lately. Not that that really surprises me. I'm used to that. He did that before at every possible opportunity. Regardless of Derek's questionable sanity, drinking that much is never a good sign. And he never used to be a smoker before.
And then, of course, there's the girls. I swear, all he ever does now is party, drink, hockey, and girls. For me, the girls are the worst part of the whole ordeal. I thought he was bad before... What did I know? Before he just dated them, and that was really all we ever saw of them, if we ever saw them at all. He never brought girls to "stay over". Nah, "stay over" or "sleep over", those aren't appropriate words for what he does with them.
First of all, he never really sleeps. Secondly, they don't stay very long... He must have them trained well. He's just lucky Mom and George sleep in the basement and go to bed early. They don't have to hear anything. However, my room's right next door to his. I don't even want to mention some of the horrid things I've had to hear. Really, I am not kidding... It's that bad.
It's not like I went into this thinking that Derek was a virgin. Far from that, actually. I always knew he did things. He just wasn't tacky enough to do them here. Or maybe he's just stupid. And I don't know why... I don't know what's up with this sudden change of heart. Oh, who am I kidding? Derek has no heart!
That's the reason why he makes them clear out as soon as possible after the deed's done. It's not even that he brings them home now (sometimes in large groups even) that bugs me. It's the volume of girls in a month. He has a new one (or ones) practically every night... Everywhere, anywhere he wants.
When Derek's girls are over, I make Lizzie and Marti go stay with Edwin, which is a huge annoyance to all parties involved. Except, of course, Derek. He doesn't know. Sometimes those girls stay over for hours... Makes you wonder how much endurance you can get playing hockey. Or Cheerleading or Dance or Soccer... Whatever sport his girls happen to play. I'm stuck playing look out, which means that I have to listen (not that I like it. Derek hates it when I play music, and he threatened me with violence if I did. Or something to that effect) and watch for the girls to leave.
I try and read or study most of the time. Let me tell you, some of those girls are noisy enough to wake the dead! It's really hard to ignore all the moans and grunts and screams... The sound I hate most of all (aside from when they scream his name), however, is the bedsprings creaking. It's like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. I shouldn't have to hear my stepbrother having sex in the next room. It's just not right!
Sometimes I think he does it on purpose, knowing that I'm in the room next to him... Knowing that I have to hear him. Though Derek's not the noisy one. Don't get me wrong, he lets out the occasional moan, and groans and grunts a bit, but that's it. The girls are, though. I really don't think he hasn't brought one over who wasn't noisy.
There are other things too... Like, for instance, he has no modesty anymore. He routinely walks around the house shirtless, in just a towel, or in only his boxers. Even when there's company over. And he acts differently towards Sam. He's all bitter and snarky, and he gets angry four times as fast as he did before. Not that Derek wasn't tempermental or snarky before, but he wasn't to his best friend. And he sure wasn't bitter.
I asked Sam if he knew why Derek was acting so weirdly. Sam pointed out that I lived with him, so I would know, right? Grr, not helpful, Sweetie! Then I asked Sam if he and Derek had had a falling out or something. No, they had not had a falling out. Derek had just been extra-mean lately. He made excuses for Derek... Oh, well, he needs to get laid... Sam put that in a much more delicate way. I'm using Derek's wording...
And then, I, of course, pointed out that Derek was getting four hundred percent more action than previously, so that wasn't it. Sam then proceeded to blame it on hangovers, which is a theory with actual merit. I've never had a hangover or anything, so I'm not particularly sure, but don't they wear off after a while? Like, for instance, when Derek's at hockey practice after school... He's really violent, even moreso than before. And don't think I don't notice that he slams Sam against the wall twice as much as any other guy. I even saw him trip Sam once. Sam completely wiped out and got a bloody nose. Yeah, that's really not an accident. That's when it becomes a problem.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I went to Paul about it. As unbelievable as it sounds, Paul had never actually met Derek. I dreaded the conversation, but I knew I had to talk to someone about it. I had no idea what to do about him, but I knew I had to intervene somehow.
He started out by asking me how things were going, and I told him good, they were going well. Simple enough. He asked me then what did I want to talk about. I wondered how exactly to phrase it. I suppose I'll just wing it. "Um, Paul... What do you do if your... um, friend... is doing some things that aren't really healthy for them?" I asked awkwardly. Well, gee, Casey, that went well. Could you be any more obvious?
Paul frowned slightly, giving me a look. He contemplated my words for a minute. "It depends on what the friend is doing," He said wisely, implying that I should say what my "friend" was doing.
Hmm, that's a mighty long list with Derek. I wondered where to begin. "A better question would be what isn't the friend doing," I muttered with a scowl. Paul raised an eyebrow, motioning for me to continue. I bit my lip, worried that I was going to violate some code and sell him out. "Um, drinking, smoking, acting strangely, and, uh, jumping anything with a pulse?" I replied hesitantly.
This time, Paul raised both eyebrows, a bit shocked that I would know anyone so messed up. He mulled his words over carefully, for they could be affecting someone's life. They were weighty words. "Then I'd say your friend is self-destructive. Most self-destructive behavior is rooted in a pathological need for attention... Attention that person isn't getting. However, self-hatred can also cause self-destructive behavior. Either way, this behavior is a warning sign and most likely a cry for help. Has your friend been talking about death, inflicting pain on himself or herself, or attempting suicide?" Paul launched into a ramble of psychobabble.
Derek had deliberately burned himself today, but did that really count? I decided that no, it didn't. Especially as Derek hadn't done any of the other things. So I shook my head no. Paul pursed his lips, staring thoughtfully into space. He seemed to relax a little, looking slightly relieved. "First of all, how long has your friend been behaving strangely?" He questioned calmly.
I bit my lip, trying in vain to recall when he'd started to act weird. Was it last Monday? Hmm, what about Sunday? Nah... Saturday, I think. He was normal before Saturday, er, at least mostly. So that's how many days, exactly? Well, it's Thursday today... You know what, I'm just going to round off here. "About two weeks, almost three," I answered casually. But my apparent nonchalance was all a facade. I really felt antsy and nervous.
Paul just nodded, a slightly curious look on his face. "Can you think of anything that might have caused this behavior? Did something happen around the time it started?" He inquired slowly. I thought back all those days ago... Had it really been eighteen days since then? And then it hit me, and the air drained from my lungs. I paled drastically. It couldn't be! But the dates fit... No, that's crazy. I mean, come on, why would Derek be affected by one little... He wouldn't. That's just it. I'm clearly delusional to even entertain the possibility of such a foolish thought.
I nodded grimly, only slightly bobbing my head, and swallowed hard. His next words cut into me similarily. "Do you have any idea whose attention your friend may be seeking?" He prodded gently. I gulped. Oh, yeah, Paul, I have a sneaking suspicion.
No, you know... Just because of what happened two weeks ago... That doesn't mean that he's acting this way because of me. It doesn't mean that all this is my fault. Who knows, maybe he wants George's attention? Then again, Derek's never been the sort of guy who's had to fight for attention. He's the sort of guy you give attention to whether you want to or not. And Derek knows that. So... So it can't be me, right?
I shrugged helplessly, waiting for some advice on what to do. I didn't come in here to start second-guessing myself. I came in here to figure out what's wrong with Derek and how to fix it. I need to fix it. I never thought I'd be talking this way about Derek's problems in a million years. In fact, I didn't even think Derek had problems... Okay, I did, but not these types of problems. But I suppose life's like that. It never turns out the way you think it's going to.
Like I never thought I would actually ever in my right mind ki... I'm not going to finish that thought. "I'd advise confronting your friend about their problems first. Then, depending on their response, go to an authority figure with your suspicions," Paul advised wisely, steepling his fingers. There it was: my answer. I nodded, thanking him, and got up to leave. I knew what I had to do. I had to confront Derek.
I walked home with a purpose. I had to talk to him, simple as that. However, when I got home, I found Derek half-naked on the couch with some blonde. Hate to ruin your date, Derek, but it must be done. Especially as she's starting to unzip his jeans. I cleared my throat, grinning evilly. "What, Derek, you couldn't even wait to get to your bedroom?" I asked sharply, disdain evident in my tone.
The girl immediately sat up, jumping off Derek. Her face flushed when she saw me. Oh, great... I actually know this one. Mary from English. Ha, isn't that ironic? Guess she's more of a Mary Madgalene, then. Mary glanced around, probably looking for her shirt. Well, well... I have seriously underestimated Derek's sexual prowess. She doesn't even have her bra off yet. I might as well help her out, right?
"Mary, your shirt's under the couch," I pointed out, gesturing to where it was. Mary turned beet red and pulled the shirt over her head in one motion. She put on her shoes and rushed out of the house in two seconds. As I said previously, Derek has absolutely no shame. So he didn't even look remotely embarrassed by me catching him making out with a girl. In fact, he merely looked pissed off.
He didn't even bother to zip up his jeans at first. I scowled. Ew. Derek got up lazily, eyeing me suspiciously. "Why do you have to ruin everything? I was about to get to second base!" Derek growled, looking at me as if I had just killed his best friend. Though in his eyes, I think my dating Sam is equivalent to Sam dying. I rolled my eyes at him, disbelieving. I can't believe he can actually be so horny. I mean, what's one night without getting laid, really?
"Derek, is that all you think about? Having sex?" I questioned irritably. Derek seemed to contemplate it for a moment before I decided that I really, really did not want to hear about my stepbrother's overactive sex life. I shook my head, feeling stupid. "Never mind. We need to talk," I stated bluntly, grabbing Derek by the wrist. Derek raised his eyebrows, looking down at where my hand was grabbing his, and smirked.
Derek looked at me through half-lidded eyes, bemused. "Apparently we do," He murmured flirtatiously. I rolled my eyes at him. You know, just because I've kissed him doesn't mean that I'm one of his girls. I happen to possess a functioning brain, for starters. And I can think about things that don't involve Derek. Plus, I don't want him, no, not at all. I felt the anger grow inside of me, and I jerked him up the stairs with an almost inhuman force.
Derek, who was shirtless, by the way, stumbled after me. Even then, he still wasn't rattled. "I never thought you were the type that liked it rough," Derek mumbled suggestively. When he said that, I practically flung him into the wall. As usual, however, Derek took everything with stride. He only looked slightly surprised at my violence. But Derek likes it rough, obviously, so I don't really think he cares.
"And I never thought I was living with an alcoholic!" I screeched furiously. Derek's jaw tightened at the accusation. He looked very, very infuriated. Slowly, with a practiced cool, he pushed himself off the wall. His eyes blazed like amber fire as he stalked towards me. He got close, all up in my face.
"I'm not an alcoholic," His voice was low and gravelly. Oh, really? Then what the hell do you call coming home drunk practically every night? Derek's tone was firm, unyielding as he was. Maybe it wasn't that he... Maybe he just thought that he wasn't an alcoholic. He could easily be in denial... But all that damage he's doing to his liver is just awful!
I backed up a little, feeling slightly nervous. He'd come close enough to me to prove a point. I could plainly smell that there was no liquor on his breath. So what? Big whopping deal. He always gets drunk later. That doesn't prove anything. I scoffed and rolled my eyes. Please, there's no way I buy that. "Yeah, Derek, you just come home wasted every night... Big difference there!" I snapped, throwing my hands in the air.
Derek glowered at me, but he didn't deny it. He couldn't deny it... because it was true. And saying anything would only confirm that I was right. And, of course, Derek couldn't do that because it would mean backing down. So he was sober now. He'd be drunk again in a few hours. You know, maybe I ought to be telling Derek this. I took a breath to calm myself before I started. "Derek, the way you've been acting lately... It's not healthy," I began hesitantly. Derek rolled his eyes at me, like I was the crazy one.
Didn't he see that I was just trying to help him? I had to do this. "Derek, I'm serious. If you keep engaging in risky behavior-" I stated seriously, but Derek interrupted me. He rolled his eyes once again, uncrossing his arms. He approached me once more, clearly not appreciating my attempt at rescuing him. He gave me this look that screamed "oh, please", shooting me a hostile look. This Derek scared me a little bit. Okay, he scared me more than a little bit.
Derek interrupted me impatiently, "I know what I'm doing, Casey." He said that so casually, so caustically... Like it was nothing. I hate how he's so cocky about everything. He thinks he knows best. Well, Derek doesn't know best. Doesn't he realize that everything he's doing could endanger his life? He could get cancer! He could die of alcohol poisoning or cirrhosis of the liver! Not to mention drunk driving, even though he never drives... I mean, he's not that stupid. Not to mention that he could die in a fight or go to jail or kill himself or become addicted to drugs or something... Oh, and then there's the promiscuity! He could get an STD. He could get HIV, which would then become AIDS, and he could DIE!
And why do I care, exactly?
Because, Casey, he's still your brother. Even if he's your stepbrother. And, somehow, I still care. Because I'm not like Derek. I actually care about people, and I treat them decently. I grabbed Derek hard by the shoulders and shook him hard enough to make him realize that I was serious. He looked surprised. So surprised that he had to blink at me and regain his balance. Don't tell me he's buzzed again! I continued on my rampage. "This isn't a joke, Derek. If you keep pulling crap like this, you're going to wind up in trouble," I pointed out, as sober as a heart-attack.
Derek glanced pointedly down at my hands on his shoulders, eyes slowly returning to my face. "Maybe I like ending up in trouble," Derek remarked somewhat suggestively. My jaw dropped open a little bit. Even when I'm trying to be serious... When I'm trying to save his sorry behind... He acts like a total ass! I threw Derek an exasperated look. I swear, he has the dirtiest mind I have ever encountered. Immediately, I dropped my hands, shoving him back a little like that would actually help.
A little distance only ever seems to make Derek want to come closer. "Derek, you could die! Don't you realize that? You could get an STD or cancer or alcohol poisoning!" I screamed frustratedly, flinging my hands in the air dramatically. Derek shot me a cool look, the frost in his eyes alarming me. Without even thinking (then again, when does Derek ever think?), Derek moved towards me somewhat menacingly.
He scowled bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Oh, sure... Now you care. Now you give a damn about what happens to me. Well, it just figures, doesn't it, Case?" Derek sneered, looking down his nose at me. I didn't get what he meant. What on Earth was he talking about? It just figures...? What just figures? Why is he being so vague and confusing? Derek's generally a pretty blunt guy. He usually makes things pretty clear.
I frowned, exasperated. "Derek, I care, okay! You're still my brother!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, trying to understand him. At first, Derek looked somewhat taken aback. I guess it is surprising for me to say that after all those awful things I said to him. Then his eyes turned flinty and the look on his face hardened.
"I'm not your brother," He snapped almost violently. I hated the knowing look he sent me. It brought back unwanted memories. It's bad enough I relive those frantic moments in my dreams. I've been having those nightmares every night for the past two weeks. I hate it, waking up sweaty, tossing and turning, shaking. Ugh. I hate Derek too, for what he did. But I hated him before anyways, so it doesn't really matter.
I sighed, tugging on my hair. Why couldn't he just accept that I wanted to help him? Somebody has to before he destroys himself. "Derek, please..." I asked, sighing again. Derek smiled slightly, putting his hands in his pockets. He leaned against the wall, eyes fluttering closed. I had a sneaking suspicion that he was up to something.
Derek sighed, getting even more comfortable against the wall. "Say my name again," He murmured, almost moaning. I felt vaguely grossed out... really grossed out. I shook my head. He didn't get it. I'm not one of those girls, firstly. He's not taking any of this seriously. I'll just go tell George then.
I turned around to storm off and was halfway down the stairs when I felt Derek grab my arm. I jerked away from him. I don't want his hands on me. Really, who knows where they've been? Probably everywhere. I mean, the guy's with a new girl every night... sometimes more. My exit would've been grand, but I tripped and went sailing down the stairs. Derek grabbed my arm in an attempt to steady me, or, well, something... I took him down with me. Is it wrong to be sort of proud of that? We wound up in a crumpled heap on the floor in front of the stairs.
I winced, feeling new bruises forming and old ones aching. Derek was directly on top of me and was enjoying it far too much. I tried to move, but he just pressed me down, so I wound up wiggling right against him. I stopped immediately. He doesn't need any more encouragement. I pushed against Derek. "Derek, get off me! It's bad enough I have to hear you screwing half of Canada in the room next to me every night, but trying to force yourself on me? That's a new low, even for you," I snarled, still struggling. Derek smirked down at me.
He straightened up a little, a proud look appearing on his face. "You're just mad because you want to be in the room with me," Derek replied cockily. I could literally feel myself shaking with anger. He is so SMUG. And I would never, ever, ever want to be in the room with him. With or without the other girl(s). Ugh. That would mean... ew. Ew, ew, ew.
I made a face at Derek and shoved him off of me. You know what, I might as well go upstairs. Emily's supposed to call me anyways. And I did try to help Derek. After all, that's all that counts, right? I'm going to tell George. I'll give Derek a day. Then I'm telling George everything. Someone has to stop him, after all, or Derek's going to destroy himself. I stood up and walked past Derek, not even glancing back at him. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. I bet that's just what he wants anyways.
I started to absentmindedly write poetry until the phone rang. As expected, it was Emily with the gossip of the day. Somehow Emily always knows all the gossip, so I was figuring it was about Ashley and Mike's break-up today in History. Naturally, it wasn't. Actually, she completely surprised me. "Oh, Casey, that reminds me... I have something to tell you!" Emily chirped so cheerfully that my ears hurt.
Okay, so maybe I wasn't in the mood for this. That last conversation with Derek had just put me on edge a little, you know? But Emily was my friend, and Lord knows she's listened to me rant about the boy she likes day after day after day... But that would mean that she likes talking about it because she likes hearing about Derek. Hmm, but probably not about how much I hate him. "What?" I asked, fighting down the feelings of irritation.
Emily giggled loudly over the line. Her laughter suddenly sounded like a bombing. My ears hurt, and I was beginning to develop a headache. Plus, I still had so much homework to do, and I didn't need any stupid distractions like this. I sighed impatiently, rubbing my temples and waiting for Emily to talk. "You know Chrissy's party last weekend?" She began, sounding so very excited. I made a feeble grunting noise, hoping she'd get the picture. Emily did, continuing on brightly. Well, isn't someone Little Miss Mary Sunshine today.
"I made out with Derek!" Emily exclaimed, sounding absolutely ecstatic. I could just picture her now. Her eyes would be bright and alight with joy. Her hair would be springy and bouncy. She would be screaming and throwing her fists in the air victoriously. And then she'd do some sort of stupid dance. But... Wait, she...
"You did WHAT?" I screeched, feeling my eyes widen drastically. I was so surprised that I almost dropped the phone. My jaw went slack, mouth gaping open, and for what seemed like an eternity, no words came to mind. Derek not only kissed Emily, but made out with her? Did he try to go further? I mean, this is Emily. He knows how she feels about him... And for cripes' sake, she's our next-door neighbor, and my best friend. My only friend, really. Oh, no, this can mean nothing good... I forced myself to calm down, slowing my racing thoughts. I inhaled deeply, trying to be calm.
I don't quite think it's working. "Emily... Don't jump to conclusions. That was practically a week ago. If Derek didn't call you up already; he's probably not going to," I advised wisely. It's not that I'm an expert on guys or anything. But I am an expert on Derek. Ems might've known him longer, but she's blinded by affection... And I live with him, so I know first-hand how much of a jerk he can be. I should've been nicer about it, or at least a little less blunt... because I'm sure that was not what she wanted to hear.
Her voice rose an octave. "Can't you just be happy for me for one minute! You know how much I like him, and now that something's finally happened between us..." Emily shouted frustratedly. She obviously didn't want to hear me telling her this. But, let's face it... Emily's not exactly Derek's type. Then again, that's saying that he has a type. But she's not easy and stupid... you know? I just don't want her to jump into anything she doesn't want to do because of Derek.
It's always been pretty clear to me that Derek has no real interest in Emily. I feel bad for her, really I do, but she's way too good for Derek anyways. I wouldn't be surprised if he was drunk. Still, that was no excuse for leading her on. Even Derek couldn't possibly be that cruel. I sighed, trying to find a gentler way to explain it to her. "Look, Em, you don't know Derek like I do. You haven't seen what I've seen. You haven't seen him walk in here every night, wasted. You haven't seen all the girls he brings home. You haven't interrupted one of his make-out sessions. And you have no idea how thin the walls are in this house. I hear everything. So trust me, Emily, when I say that you are better off without Derek Venturi," I stated firmly, trying to convey a little compassion.
But Emily wasn't biting. She was on the fast train to hysterical. "No!" Emily shrieked, "No! You're lying!" Doesn't she realize how futile her denial is? Derek doesn't feel that way about her. Derek is an ass. Derek is a trainwreck. You could practically catch an STD by just looking at him. Emily didn't get all that, though. She sounded so desperate, so hard pressed to believe in him. But what was there to believe in? Derek was so... so shallow.
What's he hiding? I can't see what's so bad about his life here that he has to go around drinking, smoking, and screwing everything with a pulse. Sure, you can argue that the last one's for fun, even though it smacks of sex addiction. And you can argue that he's addicted to the cigarettes. But the liquor? That's not just situational. And what happens if he turns to harder stuff? It's bound to happen eventually. I'll walk in, and he'll be completely baked. Or he'll be so high he does something stupid... Or he'll O.D. But Emily doesn't see that side of Derek. Even I don't see that side of him.
Emily surprised me by slamming down the phone and hanging up on me. I tried to tell her, I really did, but she just didn't want to listen to what I had to say. A raw anger began to bubble up inside of me. How could Derek deliberately mislead Emily like that? How could he just lead her on and let her go on thinking that there was actually something between them? How could he give her false hope like that? He knows how she feels about him! It's like he's taking advantage of her feelings for him just to satisfy his stupid hormones!
I didn't even think Derek could stoop that low! I thought he had limits! You have to draw the line somewhere, and I thought it had been drawn firmly at Emily. I mean, it's Derek... I could understand if maybe there was a chance that he could actually like her. But there wasn't. And every brief relationship Derek has ends badly. Emily was our neighbor, and my best friend. We couldn't afford to have them hate us. And I didn't want to lose Emily because of something stupid Derek did to her.
What if he broke her heart? What then! I don't think Emily could take it. He was probably so drunk he doesn't even remember. I mean, kissing a girl, making out with a girl, even having sex with a girl... is absolutely nothing to him. He only cares about what feels good in the moment. He likes to be... satisfied.
Okay, that's it. There's no tomorrow. I'm telling George about Derek's extracurricular activities right now. I tried to help him. I tried to warn him, I really did. I set my phone down and marched down the stairs. I don't care if he's got a hot date or not. I just charged down the stairs, overcome with rage. I spotted George in the kitchen and approached him quickly.
"Hey, George? Just thought you might like to know that your son's been coming home drunk every night. And he's had so many girls over here lately that our house has practically become a brothel. He sneaks in with them after curfew, completely wasted. And then he proceeds to have loud, passionate sex with them in the room next to mine. He smokes a pack a day and goes clubbing every night. Sometimes he comes back so stone drunk that he can't even stand up straight. He's been getting in fights lately too... Sam told me that the hockey coach even complained about his aggressiveness. He dislocated a guy's shoulder at practice on Monday and nearly killed Sam. It seems like he's always in a bad mood. Oh, and he's flunking three classes. But he's being safe. He uses condoms. Isn't that great to hear? Doesn't that make you proud, eh, George? I just thought you might want to know," I snapped sarcastically, faking a saccharine-sweet smile.
George's eyes bugged out at me. At first he looked at me, simply disbelieving. He didn't believe I was right. Well, that's just too damn bad because I was. All of that was one hundred percent true. Eventually this must've also occurred to George too. I guess each and every little fact sunk in slowly.
I suppose it's all one big blow. You think you've got it all together one minute, and then it turns out that you really don't. Yeah. Drinking. BAM! Promiscuity. BAM! Breaking Curfew. BAM! Smoking. BAM! Dirty Dancing. BAM! Aggressiveness. BAM! Disrespect. BAM! Violence. BAM! Bad Temper. BAM! Failing School. BAM! Condoms. BAM! BAM! BAM! It was like a double whammy... one hit right after the other. And they kept coming!
George's jaw dropped, and he abruptly stood up from the table. "DEREK!" He shouted at the top of his longs. Like the dog he was, Derek came when he was called. I smirked to myself. It looks like he's about to be taught a well-deserved lesson in responsibility. George grabbed Derek by the shoulder and began yelling at him.
Derek knew who had told George. As George dragged him upstairs, Derek's eyes sought out mine, narrowing upon contact. He struggled a little with his father. Derek was never the type to go out quietly. That intensely rabid look in his eyes would haunt me in my dreams forever. "Two can play at this game," He mouthed over George's shoulder.
I had no doubt that Derek meant it. The challenging, indomitable look in his eyes only made me more certain. He wasn't going to let me off the hook for this one, that was for sure. This time, well... It was really on now. That look wasn't just any look. It was a Declaration of War, and I'd accepted it, knowing the consequences.
The only question that remains is who will be the victor... and who will be the loser?
Loren ;
Hope that was worth the wait. Probably not, but still... WE HAVE OUR OWN CATEGORY! Lol, sorry. It's the first time I've ever posted since we've had a category. Anyways, I hope you liked it. Review please... It really means a lot.