Blood Rising - Part Ten
Title: Blood Rising (Part Ten)
Author: gregoria44
Rating: 16+ for language, this part
Word count: This part, 1,651
Summary: Back to reality.
A/N: Same as Part One. All comments and concrit always welcome. Special thanks to haldoor for everything, and rivers_bend, because she rocks, and if it wasn’t for this, I wouldn’t have got to spend a very happy, sunny afternoon with her.
Warnings: These are teenagers and this is gay fiction. Stuff happens.
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine
“I fell over.”
It was the third or fourth time I’d heard the words, but they still made my stomach contract.
We were all sitting around under the tree, the first dinner break we’d shared with Des. Some of the girls had joined us and Kelly was peering closely at the plaster cast as if looking for a hallmark.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
Des shrugged. “We might have to put off that arm wrestling match for a few days.”
She smiled at him. “At least it’s your left wrist. It won’t affect your writing and that.”
There was a ripple of laughter and groaning from everyone around. Kelly had a lot of fine attributes to offer the world, but being quick on the uptake was not one of them.
“What?” indignation made her voice high. She rounded on Wayne, suspiciously. “Are you being dirty?”
Wayne, who was quite fond of her two most obvious attributes, grinned and shook his head. “How long have you known Des?”
“Why?”
Ruth stepped in before Wayne got his sarcasm fully into gear, “’Cos he’s left-handed, that’s why.”
Kelly turned wide eyes back to Des, “Since when?”
“Friday last,” Will told her, knowledgeably, “It was a new moon: always has that effect on him.”
She set about him with her bag and there was more laughter as he made a bad job of fending her off. Des was grinning and joking with the rest of them. It was the happiest he’d looked in a long time.
I’d never felt more out of things, and I was damned if I was going to sit there laughing along like everything was normal.
Somewhere behind us, a bell rang.
As we all started back towards the buildings, Wayne prodded me. “Oy, Steve? Hang on a minute.” He bent down to fiddle with his shoelace, which as far as I could see didn’t need tying.
“Do you need help with that or something?” I asked irritably, watching Des walk away with his arm around Kelly’s shoulders.
“Nope,” he said to his shoes before straightening up again, “But I did want to tell you to stop being such a miserable git.”
“You what?”
He lowered his voice, “If his brother did break his wrist,” he pointed aggressively towards Des, “You think he wants to broadcast it? We’re his mates; we know stuff that other people don’t, and he’s trusting us to keep quiet. If he’s dealing with the attention by lying, then give him a break, yeah? Cos so far, it’s working, and you wearing a face like that isn’t helping anyone.”
It wasn’t so much that Des was lying to everyone, more the fact that he was lying to me, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.
Wayne might have known more about keeping secrets than the rest of us, but it didn’t mean I liked him telling me how to behave.
“Fine,” I said, spitting out the words, “I’ll ignore it like the rest of you, then.”
He shook his head angrily, “Do what you want, Steve, I couldn’t give a crap, but it’s not about me, is it?”
With that, he turned and jogged to catch up with the others, leaving me feeling resentful on my own.
*
Mr. Frank Raleigh, our P.E. teacher, strode into the dank changing room and stood with his legs wide apart. An all-conquering wall of deodorant followed him, doing nothing to improve the reek of the place.
I hid a choking fit behind my hand; the man liked to create an effect wherever he went, and didn’t need any encouragement from me.
Surveying the sorry scene of pale and sunburnt, scrawny and overweight bodies, he crossed his arms firmly. “Good God. It’s worse than I thought. I’ve seen slugs that could outpace you lot.”
There was laughter from the previous year’s favoured few, but the sound died away under the weight of a calculated frown. They were going to have to reapply for their former positions.
Raleigh’s eyes alighted on Des and the frown increased. “And why aren’t you changed, Doran?” As ever, he mispronounced Des’ surname, making it a cheap insult.
There was no love lost between the two of them. Des showed little interest in sport, and even less respect for the man who tried to teach it to us.
Raising his cast in reply, he shrugged.
“We’ve got football today,” Raleigh said, tone cooling, “Nothing wrong with your legs is there?”
“No, sir.” There was a fraction too much emphasis on the ‘sir’, and a collective intake of breath sucked the remaining fresh air from the room. Everyone turned their eyes to Raleigh; a new spat created an interesting opportunity for time wasting if nothing else.
Mark, who was sitting next to Des, shot me a concerned look. He’d never been comfortable with attracting attention from teachers. I wasn’t fussed either way, but Raleigh had an unpleasantness about him that lurked beneath a thin layer of humour. The last thing Des needed to do was engage in another battle of wills.
Raleigh pulled himself up to full height and failed to contain a sneer. “Got your kit, son?”
“No,” Des told him, sullenly, “I’ve got a note from…”
With a speed that made everyone jump, Raleigh swung down until his face was millimetres from Des’ and bellowed into it. “I don’t care about your bloody Doctor’s note. I’ve spoken to your mother, and she’s happy for you to carry on with your physical education. NOW GET CHANGED.”
Sheer volume made the air ring, even in the silence that followed.
Des’ expression barely changed, but when he replied, his voice was quieter and more cautious. “Into what?”
A triumphant smirk crawled across Raleigh’s features as he straightened up. From nowhere he produced an ancient pair of running shorts and a yellowing t-shirt. He’d come prepared, which meant he’d been expecting an argument.
“You can wear these; lost property’s finest.”
Ignoring the screwed up bundle in Raleigh’s fist, Des stared at the muddy floor. His jaw shifted a fraction, but he didn’t say anything. Outside a blackbird was singing and somewhere in the distance a motorbike idled along a road.
“Up you get then, son. We’ll all wait here while you get changed.”
The clothes were thrust closer to Des, who took them slowly without looking up.
As he stood, there were a few sniggers from somewhere unidentifiable, but most of the room remained silent. Knowing how reluctant he had been to undress in front of Tag, I offered a distraction, managing to sound cockier than I felt.
“Come on sir; we’re not going to get a game in at this rate.”
Raleigh’s gaze flicked down to me with annoyance but I kept my expression cheerfully expectant. I must have looked like an overeager puppy, but it did the trick.
“Right,” Raleigh shouted to the room in general, “Everybody out to the pitch. Doran, when you’re done, find some footwear in my office and follow us down. We’ll discuss this later in detention. I want you back here at the end of school.”
As the others roused themselves in a clatter of boots and started filing out, Des raised his eyes to meet mine.
I looked away, and despite the pounding in my chest, joined the nearest column of departing lads.
*
During the lesson, Des was left to stand on the sidelines while the rest of us ran around like idiots. Raleigh was showing off more than usual, probably high from his little victory.
A sliding tackle knocked me onto the crisp, brown grass, right at Des’ feet. The game rolled off without me, and I found myself squinting at the bruises on his knees and shins.
“I think the ref’s blind as well as evil,” he commented, reaching out his good arm for me to take.
Struggling up without his help, brittle stalks embedded themselves in my palms. “S’all right,” I said curtly, “Wouldn’t want you falling over again.”
He blinked at me, the grey of his eyes bleached pale in the glaring sunlight.
“WINTHROP!”
I turned to see Raleigh gesticulating widely at me with his whistle, “GET YOUR SELF DOWN HERE, YOU CAN LICK EACH OTHER’S WOUNDS LATER.”
I’d have been happy to ram the whistle down his throat and watch him choke to death on it. Instead, I obediently trotted down the pitch, feeling eyes burning into the back of my head the whole damned way.
*
What I hoped to achieve by dashing off at the end of P.E. wasn’t clear, even to me. The next lesson was maths, and being rubbish at it, I was in the same group as Des.
When he arrived, I was ferreting around in my bag for a pen that showed any sign of life. He slid into the seat next to mine and glared pointedly at me until I was forced to acknowledge him. “What’s your bloody problem?” he hissed.
At that point, I was no longer sure. My head was a mess. I was angry with him for not telling me what had happened, I was embarrassed about Duncan turning him away, and most of all I was bothered that I’d built the whole thing up into something it wasn’t.
The only difference between us and the rest of our friends was a shared history of fumbling around in the dark, and maybe that’s where it should have been left.
“I haven’t got a problem,” I muttered, rummaging deeper to avoid further interrogation.
“You won’t mind waiting for me while I do that stupid fucking detention, then.”
He’d got me there. I stared blindly into my bag, feeling myself going red in the face. He slapped one of his own pens down on the table and shoved it towards me. “Here, use this. You’ve got more chance of finding some magic beans in there.”
*
Part Eleven
Laptop Backpacks
Author: gregoria44
Rating: 16+ for language, this part
Word count: This part, 1,651
Summary: Back to reality.
A/N: Same as Part One. All comments and concrit always welcome. Special thanks to haldoor for everything, and rivers_bend, because she rocks, and if it wasn’t for this, I wouldn’t have got to spend a very happy, sunny afternoon with her.
Warnings: These are teenagers and this is gay fiction. Stuff happens.
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine
“I fell over.”
It was the third or fourth time I’d heard the words, but they still made my stomach contract.
We were all sitting around under the tree, the first dinner break we’d shared with Des. Some of the girls had joined us and Kelly was peering closely at the plaster cast as if looking for a hallmark.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
Des shrugged. “We might have to put off that arm wrestling match for a few days.”
She smiled at him. “At least it’s your left wrist. It won’t affect your writing and that.”
There was a ripple of laughter and groaning from everyone around. Kelly had a lot of fine attributes to offer the world, but being quick on the uptake was not one of them.
“What?” indignation made her voice high. She rounded on Wayne, suspiciously. “Are you being dirty?”
Wayne, who was quite fond of her two most obvious attributes, grinned and shook his head. “How long have you known Des?”
“Why?”
Ruth stepped in before Wayne got his sarcasm fully into gear, “’Cos he’s left-handed, that’s why.”
Kelly turned wide eyes back to Des, “Since when?”
“Friday last,” Will told her, knowledgeably, “It was a new moon: always has that effect on him.”
She set about him with her bag and there was more laughter as he made a bad job of fending her off. Des was grinning and joking with the rest of them. It was the happiest he’d looked in a long time.
I’d never felt more out of things, and I was damned if I was going to sit there laughing along like everything was normal.
Somewhere behind us, a bell rang.
As we all started back towards the buildings, Wayne prodded me. “Oy, Steve? Hang on a minute.” He bent down to fiddle with his shoelace, which as far as I could see didn’t need tying.
“Do you need help with that or something?” I asked irritably, watching Des walk away with his arm around Kelly’s shoulders.
“Nope,” he said to his shoes before straightening up again, “But I did want to tell you to stop being such a miserable git.”
“You what?”
He lowered his voice, “If his brother did break his wrist,” he pointed aggressively towards Des, “You think he wants to broadcast it? We’re his mates; we know stuff that other people don’t, and he’s trusting us to keep quiet. If he’s dealing with the attention by lying, then give him a break, yeah? Cos so far, it’s working, and you wearing a face like that isn’t helping anyone.”
It wasn’t so much that Des was lying to everyone, more the fact that he was lying to me, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.
Wayne might have known more about keeping secrets than the rest of us, but it didn’t mean I liked him telling me how to behave.
“Fine,” I said, spitting out the words, “I’ll ignore it like the rest of you, then.”
He shook his head angrily, “Do what you want, Steve, I couldn’t give a crap, but it’s not about me, is it?”
With that, he turned and jogged to catch up with the others, leaving me feeling resentful on my own.
*
Mr. Frank Raleigh, our P.E. teacher, strode into the dank changing room and stood with his legs wide apart. An all-conquering wall of deodorant followed him, doing nothing to improve the reek of the place.
I hid a choking fit behind my hand; the man liked to create an effect wherever he went, and didn’t need any encouragement from me.
Surveying the sorry scene of pale and sunburnt, scrawny and overweight bodies, he crossed his arms firmly. “Good God. It’s worse than I thought. I’ve seen slugs that could outpace you lot.”
There was laughter from the previous year’s favoured few, but the sound died away under the weight of a calculated frown. They were going to have to reapply for their former positions.
Raleigh’s eyes alighted on Des and the frown increased. “And why aren’t you changed, Doran?” As ever, he mispronounced Des’ surname, making it a cheap insult.
There was no love lost between the two of them. Des showed little interest in sport, and even less respect for the man who tried to teach it to us.
Raising his cast in reply, he shrugged.
“We’ve got football today,” Raleigh said, tone cooling, “Nothing wrong with your legs is there?”
“No, sir.” There was a fraction too much emphasis on the ‘sir’, and a collective intake of breath sucked the remaining fresh air from the room. Everyone turned their eyes to Raleigh; a new spat created an interesting opportunity for time wasting if nothing else.
Mark, who was sitting next to Des, shot me a concerned look. He’d never been comfortable with attracting attention from teachers. I wasn’t fussed either way, but Raleigh had an unpleasantness about him that lurked beneath a thin layer of humour. The last thing Des needed to do was engage in another battle of wills.
Raleigh pulled himself up to full height and failed to contain a sneer. “Got your kit, son?”
“No,” Des told him, sullenly, “I’ve got a note from…”
With a speed that made everyone jump, Raleigh swung down until his face was millimetres from Des’ and bellowed into it. “I don’t care about your bloody Doctor’s note. I’ve spoken to your mother, and she’s happy for you to carry on with your physical education. NOW GET CHANGED.”
Sheer volume made the air ring, even in the silence that followed.
Des’ expression barely changed, but when he replied, his voice was quieter and more cautious. “Into what?”
A triumphant smirk crawled across Raleigh’s features as he straightened up. From nowhere he produced an ancient pair of running shorts and a yellowing t-shirt. He’d come prepared, which meant he’d been expecting an argument.
“You can wear these; lost property’s finest.”
Ignoring the screwed up bundle in Raleigh’s fist, Des stared at the muddy floor. His jaw shifted a fraction, but he didn’t say anything. Outside a blackbird was singing and somewhere in the distance a motorbike idled along a road.
“Up you get then, son. We’ll all wait here while you get changed.”
The clothes were thrust closer to Des, who took them slowly without looking up.
As he stood, there were a few sniggers from somewhere unidentifiable, but most of the room remained silent. Knowing how reluctant he had been to undress in front of Tag, I offered a distraction, managing to sound cockier than I felt.
“Come on sir; we’re not going to get a game in at this rate.”
Raleigh’s gaze flicked down to me with annoyance but I kept my expression cheerfully expectant. I must have looked like an overeager puppy, but it did the trick.
“Right,” Raleigh shouted to the room in general, “Everybody out to the pitch. Doran, when you’re done, find some footwear in my office and follow us down. We’ll discuss this later in detention. I want you back here at the end of school.”
As the others roused themselves in a clatter of boots and started filing out, Des raised his eyes to meet mine.
I looked away, and despite the pounding in my chest, joined the nearest column of departing lads.
*
During the lesson, Des was left to stand on the sidelines while the rest of us ran around like idiots. Raleigh was showing off more than usual, probably high from his little victory.
A sliding tackle knocked me onto the crisp, brown grass, right at Des’ feet. The game rolled off without me, and I found myself squinting at the bruises on his knees and shins.
“I think the ref’s blind as well as evil,” he commented, reaching out his good arm for me to take.
Struggling up without his help, brittle stalks embedded themselves in my palms. “S’all right,” I said curtly, “Wouldn’t want you falling over again.”
He blinked at me, the grey of his eyes bleached pale in the glaring sunlight.
“WINTHROP!”
I turned to see Raleigh gesticulating widely at me with his whistle, “GET YOUR SELF DOWN HERE, YOU CAN LICK EACH OTHER’S WOUNDS LATER.”
I’d have been happy to ram the whistle down his throat and watch him choke to death on it. Instead, I obediently trotted down the pitch, feeling eyes burning into the back of my head the whole damned way.
*
What I hoped to achieve by dashing off at the end of P.E. wasn’t clear, even to me. The next lesson was maths, and being rubbish at it, I was in the same group as Des.
When he arrived, I was ferreting around in my bag for a pen that showed any sign of life. He slid into the seat next to mine and glared pointedly at me until I was forced to acknowledge him. “What’s your bloody problem?” he hissed.
At that point, I was no longer sure. My head was a mess. I was angry with him for not telling me what had happened, I was embarrassed about Duncan turning him away, and most of all I was bothered that I’d built the whole thing up into something it wasn’t.
The only difference between us and the rest of our friends was a shared history of fumbling around in the dark, and maybe that’s where it should have been left.
“I haven’t got a problem,” I muttered, rummaging deeper to avoid further interrogation.
“You won’t mind waiting for me while I do that stupid fucking detention, then.”
He’d got me there. I stared blindly into my bag, feeling myself going red in the face. He slapped one of his own pens down on the table and shoved it towards me. “Here, use this. You’ve got more chance of finding some magic beans in there.”
*
Part Eleven
Laptop Backpacks