"Yeah…god, that fucking sucks, I'm sorry…" He crossed his arms on the table and kept looking over at Paris. "You know, the more you mention your dad, the more I wanna beat the shit out of him." He chuckled a little bit, only half-joking because to be honest, he was pretty pissed off at Paris's dad. He really cared for Paris and he hated that his dad hurt him like this.
Paris laughed nervously, running his fingers through his hair. "Y-Yeah… I probably make it sound worse than it is. I'm just whiny and unappreciative. Don't worry about it." He had a small, sad smile on his face. Despite his words, it was far worse than he was letting on. I'm just glad I can protect London from some of that… she shouldn't have to deal with that kind of stuff at only thirteen. "He's just… a bit strict and old-fashioned."
"No, dude, you're not. He shouldn't act like that to you." His father wasn't nearly as bad as Paris's, so he felt kind of bad comparing them, but he felt the two had some things in common. "My dad is pretty old-fashioned and strict too…its exhausting, trying to live up to his standards…especially when I'm like, the opposite of what he wants."
"Yeah, right… I… uh… I make most of my own clothes since we're pretty poor, but my dad hates it when he catches me sewing because it's 'not masculine'…" Paris sighed, toying with his sleeves a bit. "And some of the stuff in the letter… caused different kinds of problems."
"Woah, you make your own clothes? You do a really good job." Kris said, pretty surprised, because he wouldn't have guessed that his clothes were handmade. "What kinds of problems? Wait- sorry, I probably shouldn't be asking. It's probably personal."
Paris flushed a bit at the praise and smiled weakly. "Thanks… and, uh… I'd really rather not get into it." He laughed a bit, although it was dry and forced. "Lunch will be over soon anyway, so… we'll need to go to our classes and stuff, y'know…"
Kris nodded. "That's understandable. Oh- and, you're right. We should uh- probably get going." As if on cue, the bell rang. "Shit, there we go." He stood up and put his headphones back on his head, giving his friend a small smile. "See you later, Paris."
"See you later…" Paris gathered his things and hurried off to his next class, not wanting to be late for any more classes today. He sighed softly after only barely managing to get through the day without falling asleep. He stood outside the school for a few minutes before he started walking back home.
(I'm gonna time skip a little if thats ok)
A couple of days passed and nothing very eventful happened. Kris went to his classes as usual, and failed to get decent grades as usual. On Friday morning, the boy approached the school to see a couple of guys, who looked maybe around his age, verbally harassing a freshman. Filled with rage, he walked over to them and firmly told them to stop talking to him that way. They only laughed and turned their mockery to Kris. It only took one slur to come out of one of the boy's mouth until Kris started throwing punches. His fist planted straight into the boy's cheek. Before Kris knew it, the other kid was swinging back at him, hitting him straight in the nose and the jaw, and then another blow to the ribs. The world became blurry and fast around him. He was on the ground, desperately shielding his face with one arm and holding his stomach with the other. Tears built up in his eyes. A kick to the head threw him into a dizzy state, and all of a sudden a teacher was grabbing the other kid and pulling him away. Disoriented and in pain, he shakily got up and sprinted as fast as he could, off of school property and back home. In that moment, he didn't care about the consequences at all. His fight or flight response was activated, and the only word in his mind was run. He made it into the woods, climbing up into his treehouse and gasping for breath. Everything hurt, and he was shaking violently. He stayed up there all day, not even bothering to leave the treehouse or go back to school. He didn't care. Angry tears trickled down his cheeks as he shakily picked up his phone and texted Paris. He could barely see what he as typing through his tears. He didn't care about the typos, he just went ahead and hit send. He really didn't want to bother him with his problems, but…he really didn't want to be alone.
treehpuse aftr school?
Paris was a bit preoccupied in the morning with trying to protect London from their father. She'd been out a little too late the previous night, but Paris didn't want her to get hurt, so he took the punishment instead before he walked her to school. He was limping and he felt absolutely awful, but he couldn't miss school. God, I feel so sick… I dunno if I can make it through today… He pulled his phone out of his pocket and noticed a poorly constructed text from Kris. That's odd…
Yeah, sure. You good?
Maybe he was just typing quickly and didn't notice the typos. He shrugged and headed into the school building, hoping his bruises weren't too visible. He hadn't had any time to cover them up with makeup, so he was just keeping his hood up at all times. Most of them were on his chest, back, and legs, however. While that made them easier to hide, it usually meant they were more painful.
Kris read Paris's reply and sighed, debating whether or not he should tell the truth. Even sitting down, his head was spinning…he felt like he was gonna pass out or vomit. Or both. After a while, he finally replied.
nnot rwally
He paused for a minute before starting to type again.
dont wrry about it tho
What happened?
Paris was starting to grow worried now, but there wasn't much he could do. He had to go to class, and he had absolutely no idea where Kris was right now anyway. He grimaced as he bumped into someone. God, everything hurts so bad… hopefully it'll feel a little better by the end of the day…
Kris sighed a little in relief that Paris didn't see what happened. Honestly it was pretty embarrassing- most of the school probably saw it. Thinking about this fact only made it worse, and he cried a little more.
dont wsnna talk abt it. just pleasr come later
Okay. I'll see you after school, then.
~Skippy~
Paris finished up his classes and gathered his things so that he could head over to Kris' house. It took him longer than usual since he was in a lot of pain, but he ignored it, simply climbing up into the treehouse once he reached it. There were a couple of bruises visible on his collarbone, and one on his cheek now that his hood had fallen. "Kris? You up here?"
Kris was so relieved when Paris got there. Some of the pain had dulled by then, but he still ached, and looked like an absolute mess. He was sitting against the wall, knees brought up to his chest. He had his head resting on his knees, but when Paris arrived he looked up, almost afraid of his friend seeing his beaten up face. There was dried up blood on and under his nose, there were a couple bruises forming on his face, as well as some on his stomach, though that clearly wasn't visible at the moment. "Hey…" he murmured quietly, his voice hoarse from crying and yelling.
"Christ, Kris!" Paris hurried over to his friend's side and carefully checked him over, ignoring his own cuts and bruises. He was used to them, after all. This seemed unfamiliar to Kris. "The hell happened to you? Your dad didn't hurt you, did he?" He asked worriedly. Of course, that was his first thought. He didn't even consider the possibility that other students might be involved at first. "Have you taken painkillers? Here, I always carry some on me…" He pulled a bottle of pills out of his bag and handed a couple over to Kris. "It doesn't look like you've really cleaned yourself up much…"
Kris shook his head, tears stinging his eyes again. "N-no, it was at school…" He gratefully accepted the painkillers and took them, wiping tears out of his eyes with his sleeve. "Thank you. I've been hiding up here all d-day, heh…I'll probably get f-fucking suspended…" He ran a hand through his hair shakily and anxiously.
"You're not gonna get suspended. I'm sure you'll be fine. Who had the nerve to hurt you, huh?" Paris asked, grimacing as he sat down beside Kris. "Do you know who did it?" I've got half a mind to go and beat their asses myself. I can't believe someone would do something like this to him…
He shook his head again. "Just some random guy…he was being an asshole to some freshman, so I told him to stop, and then he started calling me shit, and I just got so pissed off that like- before I knew it, I punched him…" Kris sighed, wishing he had better control over his anger. "A-and then, he started hitting me, and he was way stronger than me, and he did…all this. I was on the ground, and then finally when he got held back by someone, I just…ran."
"I'd have punched him too, honestly." Paris sighed softly and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'd probably get my ass handed to me, though. I don't weigh all that much, you know? It's not that hard for people to throw me." He shrugged a bit. I would definitely know… "How are you feeling, at least? How long ago was this?"
"A little better than before. It was this morning, before the first bell rang. I was super dizzy earlier- he kicked the back of my head." Remembering this, Kris rubbed the back of his head, flinching a little when it stung. There was definitely a bump forming back there.
"That sucks… I'm sorry." Paris sighed softly, quietly taking a couple of painkillers himself. "Did you not go back to school after that?" He asked, panting slightly from swallowing the pills. "I can give you some notes if so… you won't want to get behind."
"No…I didn't." He was embarrassed to admit that. Nope, I was just in here all day, hiding like a coward. "Pfft, I'm already behind, what difference will it make?" He chuckled humorlessly, but then cringed as he realized he said that out loud. "But uh-yeah. Notes would be great, man, thanks…sorry for troubling you…"
"Don't worry about it… I troubled you enough the other day." Paris laughed weakly and coughed a bit, grimacing when he did so. He was pretty sure his ribs were bruised, so his chest was throbbing and painful. "I-I can— take some pictures when I get home…"
Kris couldn't help but smile a little. This was the first time where something like this had happened and someone actually cared. He noticed Paris's coughing and slight stuttering, so he glanced over at him. "You okay?"