Finally… Happy Birthday, Nancy! Yes, this is a very late birthday fic for harrytwifan. It is unbetaed, so pretty please excuse my mistakes.

This fic was originally inspired by the movie The Breakfast Club. The song inspirations are Don't You Forget About Me by Simple Minds, and Boom Clap by Charli XCX. You might notice the influence of some other eighties movies from time to time, as well. I meant to write a OS, but that's just not happening. Not too sure how many chapters… however many it takes, I guess. ;-)

Disclaimer- I don't own anything Twilight. This is Slash.

Ch. 1 - I See You

Hey, hey, hey ,hey
Ohhh

Won't you come see about me?
I'll be alone, dancing you know it, baby

Tell me your troubles and doubts
giving me everything, inside and out and…

Edward pov

How did I get myself into this? Never in my life have I had a lunch or an after-school detention, let alone a fucking Saturday. I'm not sure what I thought would happen. That's just it, I guess. I didn't think for once, and it felt fucking fantastic.

I've had as much as I can stand of listening to my dad's shit about my 'F' in shop, about how disappointed he and my mother are in me. I'm disappointed enough in myself, in my first less than stellar grade. I don't need to be constantly reminded of my failure.

Fuck him. He treats me like shit, anyway. Always has. It's like he doesn't love me; he sure as fuck doesn't know me. He lacks any fraternal instinct toward me, and I can't stand him in return.

I'm used to the line of his verbal bullshit, about how worthless I am, that the only thing I have going for me are my smarts, and if I fuck that up I'll have nothing. I'll be nothing because I am nothing. But in hind sight, I should have known it would eventually escalate into more.

Finally, yesterday… it did.

It's been a long time coming now that I think about it; I've seen that gleam in his eye more and more lately - the one he gets when I just know he wants to hit me so badly he can taste it. I never thought he would, though.

Yesterday morning I'd had enough. I was done listening to his verbal abuse and he knew it. He must've recognized my taller stance or the clench of my jaw. Before I worked up the nerve to actually stand up for myself, he back handed me, hard… really fucking hard, across my left eye. That shit hurt! He caught me with his fat, stubby knuckles or something, because it felt as if he'd punched me with his fist.

By the time I made it to school with a swollen purple shiner and a rather large chip on my shoulder, I was thoroughly soaked to the bone from the downpour that followed me the entire mile walk. First fucking time I've ever missed the bus; let's just say I was raring to go at it, with anyone, like my prick of a shop teacher. Especially with my prick of a shop teacher, because that's exactly what he is, a grade A prick. First, he decided to use my sorry excuse for a bookcase as an example of everything not to do in carpentry. Then, when he insisted I remove my sunglasses, the sunglasses that were hiding something I desperately didn't want anyone to see – Yeah… I kind-of lost it just a little bit. Actually, for me, I lost it allot. I threw that stupid fucking bookcase across the room and told him what I think of him. Everything I think of him. That he's an ignorant asshole who should go fuck himself. That he's disgusting and stupid, along with a few other things. I don't even remember everything that flew out of my mouth just then. The first thing I do remember is running from the school - rather dramatically, I might add. There was no slipping inconspicuously from the building, no sneaking past the front office unseen. I ran screaming and cursing through the halls, across the school yard, into the adjacent woods. I don't know what got into me, but it felt great.

I spent hours in the forest pondering the hell that is my life and how much being a teenager sucks ass. Not that I wouldn't mind sucking someone's ass, one boy's in particular, which is another facet of the hell that is my life. Let's just say Forks isn't the easiest place to be out and proud. Especially not for someone as shy and backward as myself. Although, as ass-backward as I am with most people, I'm that popular if not more amongst my fellow geeks. Go figure! Call me comfortable in my own element or some shit like that; I don't fucking know and I don't pretend to understand. I just am - popular in my own little circle, yet a social outcast to everyone else.

One might think my ridiculed friends would be conscious of other people's feelings and not prejudice, not just plain mean, having suffered through their own fair share of being judged and bullied and shit like that, right? Uh… fuck, no. They are just as unaccepting as the next guy. Which is why I haven't confided in one of my so called friends, not a one, not even my best friend Ben - the undeniable fact that I'm gay. And I have no plans to in the immediate or distant future. I'm fine here in my closet. It's comfy and safe. Lonely, too – suffocatingly so, but still, I can hang out here a little while longer, until I go to college, where I can finally be myself. I'll just have to figure out who myself is when I get there.

During my short sabbatical to the woods, my father's words kept repeating in my head, running on a never ending loop like a broken record. The only thing you have going for you are your smarts. The only thing you have going for you are your smarts.

And it hit me. That's right! I'm fucking brilliant. I have allot going for me as a matter of fact. Soon enough I'll have my scholarship. I'll leave this tiny town and never look back - except to call my parents to gloat as to how well I'm doing from time to time. I can't wait to do exactly that.

"Hello, mother who never stuck up for me… and dear old asshole of a dad. That's right. I'm a brain surgeon. And no, I won't be home for mother fucking Christmas."

God, I can be such a hateful son-of-a-bitch sometimes. I wonder who I got that from…

So, I returned to school with every intention of attending last period, but the principal and my parents were awaiting my return. I kept my mouth shut about the real reason my face looks like it does, and my dad kept his mouth shut about me receiving my first detention. We've had some sort of an unspoken truce ever since. Imagine that.

So, here I am on a Saturday morning, making my way to the school library to get this shit done. I'll use the eight hours to study, no problem. The empty halls are a nice change from their usual chaos. Too bad the school isn't deserted like this all the time.

The smell of smoke hits me before I get through the library doors. Of course, he's here. I knew he would be. Where else would he be on a Saturday?

Jasper Whitlock. Just saying his name in my head makes my dick hard. Every time.

I may not be surprised that he's in Saturday detention, but that he's here early surprises me a whole fucking lot. He's sitting back in his chair, combat boots propped up on the table, trench coat flowing around him. Sometimes he wears a black leather jacket and cowboy boots instead, but today he's chosen his grunge look.

I'm not complaining. There's something about his don't-give-a-fuck style that suits him perfectly.

His jeans are always tight, though, that's for sure - showing off his muscular legs. His strong, muscular legs. Fuck, he looks so strong - the opposite of myself, and that turns me on beyond belief. What I wouldn't give to just crawl up onto that sexy lap of his.

His head is back, eyes are closed as he takes a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in rings into the air above him. His longish dirty blonde curls are in their usual tangled disarray, looking rather, well… dirty. But I know his hair to be anything but. I sit behind him in advanced chemistry, you see – yes, he is in advanced chemistry and every other advanced class there is. I may or may not, on occasion, only when I'm sure no one else is looking - lean forward and breathe him in. I might reach out to barely touch the ends of his tangled hair, too.

I can tell you, that shit is soft, and smells like a cross between candy apples and vanilla. I kid you not, it's the god's honest truth. Sure the hint of smoke is laced in with his naturally delicious scent sometimes, but only when he's been out in the yard with his criminal friends, if one can call them friends.

The question that haunts me, that I end up pondering every time I see Jasper and every time I think about him, which is all the fucking time – is how can someone so bad-ass be breath-takingly beautiful at the same time?

And that's just it... he takes my breath away.

I don't know what it is about him. I mean, he is hot as hell. That fact can't be disputed. But we don't have anything in common – hotness, included. We don't run in the same crowd, to say the least. I'm a geek. He's a crimmy, short for one of the criminals, though I don't think he's every actually broken the law. He hangs out with those who have or want to, which makes him one by default.

There are the rumors… numerous rumors about the terrible things Jasper Whitlock has done. Supposedly he was in jail for putting someone in the hospital, he was in juvy three or four times, and rehab. There's the practically urban legend about how bat-shit crazy Jasper is; that he'll do anything to anybody at any time. "Don't fuck with Jasper Whitlock," they all say, "cuz he's certifiable." That particular rumor is just plain ridiculous. I've only seen him violent once, and it was when he rather roughly stuffed a football player into a locker for picking on a freshman.

My personal favorite rumor is the one I fantasize about nightly, the one about him being gay and a legendary power top. Some say he's fucked more male students at Forks High than Jessica Stanley.

People believe what they want to; they only see what they want to see and hear what they choose to hear, but I know the truth. I see the truth about Jasper. I've seen how he feeds the stray cats that live behind the school. He drives his would-be sister to school and back home, every damned day. He picks up books when assholes trip geeks, causing geeks to drop those books all over the floor in the hall… my books. His hands are warm and unbelievably soft, causing a tingling sensation to spread across one's skin when dropped books are passed back to geeks, ever so gently placed in trembling hands… my hands.

I know there's something about him, radiating from that penetrating stare of his. There's something dangerous, but mostly deep, so fucking deep and powerful; a force just waiting to be discovered and nurtured.

By who? By me? I wish I could be the one to cherish Jasper Whitlock. I don't know how to, nor do I think he'd give me a chance.

He can have anyone. What the hell would he want with me?

Whatever it is about him, everything about him, draws me in, making me want him and him alone.

I awkwardly remove my backpack from my shoulder to hold in front of my crotch. I can't help but dip my head as I always do when faced with just about anybody. Ensuring he doesn't see the bruise that is my eye socket or the blood stain that is my eye, I attempt to hold my sunglasses in place while keeping my backpack down low in front my Jasper induced boner, never taking my eyes off him as I awkwardly maneuver across the room.

I never can avert my gaze, regardless of how hard I try. Especially not from his piercing stare once our eyes meet, which they have now that he's watching me watch him. Looking into my eyes, despite my dark glasses - he sees me, I know he does. It's as if he truly see me. Not the president of the math club or the awkward geek the jocks seem to despise. He see me. And he must know I see him, too.

He has to suspect, no… he must know beyond a shadow of a doubt of how badly I want him. He'd have to be blind and stupid to not see the way I look at him, and as badly as he tries to play the dumbass, I see through his charade.

He's smart, probably a genius. He's observant; I see the way he notices everything around him. He's kind. God… underneath his tough bravado, he's so kind and so good; he can't hide that from me, no matter how hard he tries.

Thankfully… mercifully… he looks away.

Jpov

Beautiful. Edward Masen is beautiful. I've never thought of a boy as beautiful before him, but I do him. Fuck, he is. And he's looking at me from behind his sunglasses, the way only he does, like he's taking me apart and then putting me back together again.

I can barely see his eyes through those damned dark lenses, his green as grass eyes - and I feel them on me, if that makes any sense.

What the fuck is up with his sudden shades, anyway? He never wears them, not until yesterday, atleast. And I don't like them one little bit.

Shit, what is it about that boy, with his copper crazy hair and stupid preppy button downs? Always over a crisp white undershirt. A fucking undershirt, every damned day! And all I want to do is see him in only that little undershirt, wearing nothing else, but my mouth wrapped around his cock.

Fuck!

He drives me crazy.

I want him so badly. Yes, I want Edward Masen in the worst way. And let's be honest, I can have - have had - every gay boy, half-gay boy, almost-gay boy, and maybe-gay boy in this school, along with a few straight boys, too. Hell, I've fucked half the football team in just under a year. But oh no, that's not good enough for me, because I wantEdward. I have a crush on him is more like it. A giant-ridiculous-mushy-gushy-girly crush on the one boy in this town whom I should stay as far away from as possible, simply because he affects me so. Edward affects me through and through. And that scares the shit outta me. I don't need any of that.

More importantly, Edward doesn't need any if this. Nobody does, but especially not him. I'm one fucked up cat, bred my entire life to be nothing but a derelict.

I know I could have him. The way he looks at me leaves no question in my mind as to if I could have that boy flat on his back or bent over the closest available surface asap. I could have Edward for one night, maybe two. Behind closed doors, I would rock his world and give him the courage to eventually come out. He would spend the rest of his life trying to find someone to make him feel the way my body in his did. I would leave him with no doubt that it is, indeed, boys he likes. Boys he needs and wants and fucking has to have.

But I would be his dirty little secret, just like with the others.

Don't get me wrong; I don't usually mind one little bit. I like to fuck and then be left the fuck alone. But not with him. Not with Edward. No, I wouldn't like watching him walk away, with a new spring in his step, mind you - but he would walk away from me like everyone else has since I was born into this fucked up world. Excluding Carlisle and Esme, so far; they haven't walked away just yet, despite my constant attempts to speed up the process, but it's only been eleven months. Give them time. They'll turn their backs on me; they'll walk away, just like everyone else.

So I do the walking, first... but there's something about Edward. If I fuck him I'll fall for him; I just know it. He would own me; I can feel it in my bones. I wouldn't be able to walk away from him first, last, or ever. I barely hold onto the broken pieces of myself enough to stay sane and not become the criminal I'm destined to become. I certainly can't share my tenuous control with another. With him.

He wouldn't want it anyway, once he sees me, really knows me. He may be a geek, but he's the king of the geeks. The way they look at him - it's as if he's a god or something. The way they look at me - they see the worthless piece if shit I am. Edward wouldn't risk their friendship to be with me, to truly be with me. I wouldn't want him to.

So I'll continue to stay away, to watch over him from afar, protecting him from the hell that is my life, the decay that is my soul. Protecting myself from escaping that hell, because what would I do without it? I don't know how to live like that.

I hope to post more often, like allot more often. I will finish all my stories. My winter-ish stories will pick up when it's winter again, when I can even begin to think about Christmas or ice-skating. You'll hear from the Sometimes boys and these two again, very soon.

I have two banners for this fic on my fb page… Jen Soulmateficwriter. Come see me… I'll be alone, dancing. You know it, baby.