Hey guys! Back with chapter two. Hope you all like it, and this story so far. Having fun writing it. Please review if you liked, it helps me continue the story! Thanks for the support!

Ch 2

"Pines. Pines!" the name fell on deaf ears, words seemingly garbled and far away to Dipper. The young teen sat at his desk, face buried into his arms. Saliva dribbled onto the desktop. Students giggled quietly, some hushing others. The snickering grew louder when the teacher removed himself from his desk at the front of the room, yardstick in hand. He brought it down in front of Dipper with a hard crack, startling him out of his doze. The class roared with laughter.

"Fuck!" Dipper shouted, jolting up quickly, eyes wide. His eyes drifted up slowly to the teacher before him, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I-I… Oh, h-hey, Mr. Walls." Dipper stuttered, forcing a small, nonchalant smile. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. Mr. Walls did not look impressed.

Dipper despised Mr. Walls. Better yet, despised was an understatement. The man was as tall and thin as they came; pasty white and sickly looking. He wore the majority of non-dress code material which included a white button-up shirt and black tie to accompany, rolled up to his elbows and jeans with holes in the knees. His arms were covered in tattoos, faded and wobbly-lined as if they were drunken teenage mistakes. As if that wasn't enough to get the school staff on his tail, Mr. Walls had grown out a beard, his long unkempt hair reaching to his shoulders. Dipper could have sworn it was the second coming of Jesus Christ.

Dipper was placed in advanced classes, plopping him right in the middle of upperclassmen like a piece of fresh meat. Juniors but mostly seniors resided in Dipper's current class, making him feel small and out of place. He was the only sophomore student there. Mr. Walls took advantage of this. "Sleeping in my class, Mr. Pines?" Mr. Walls sighed, his eyes half open. He leaned on the yardstick, staring Dipper down like he had just slaughtered a man. Dipper hoped the yardstick would snap from underneath him. Dipper wiped away the saliva that had trailed down his chin. His throat was dry as he felt every one of the students' eyes in the room fixated on him, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. It was so quiet; a pin could be heard dropping.

"No sir." Dipper whispered quietly, shifting his eyes away from his instructor. "I was just, um…"

"Speak up, Pines!" Mr. Walls snapped loudly, anger in his voice, causing the young teen to jump. Dipper shut his eyes, his breathing shaky.

"Sorry, sir. I was sleeping in your class. I apologize." Dipper admitted, swallowing the lump in his throat. Just get this over with. Send me away or continue the class. I can't take this unneeded attention any longer.

"Thank you. That's what I needed to hear." Mr. Walls spun around, making his way back to his desk at the front of the room. "I expect more from you, Mr. Pines. You are very brilliant; sleeping in my class will get you nowhere. You've handed in exceptional work and I expect you to continue." He continued loudly, flipping through the teacher's copy of the Advanced English textbook.

Just fucking shut up, damn it. Dipper groaned inwardly, annoyance pricking at him. The giggling among the students subsided and class resumed. Dipper sighed quietly, relieved. He took a quick survey of the room before slipping a hand into the pocket hidden inside of his favorite blue varsity jacket. A shaky hand brought out a small metal flask, his fingers unscrewing the cap with some difficulty. He prayed to whatever god was up there that he wasn't seen and that his trembling hands didn't drop his concealed alcohol. His eyes darted to the front of the room; Mr. Walls lecturing loudly and droning on about correct grammar. Dipper felt nervous sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, trying his best to ignore it. He snuck a quick gulp, his hand trembling severely. He took a few more when he was sure that not a soul was looking.

"…Like Mr. Pines here, with his rather excellent paper on The Black Plague. It was very well done with perfect grammar and punctuation, citation and bibliography. One of the best essays I've seen in months." Dipper jumped with the mention of his name, stuffing the open flask in his jacket, his whole body trembling. The strong smelling liquid sloshed inside of the canister, some splashing to the floor. Dipper's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he swallowed his fear. Mr. Walls motioned to Dipper, all eyes on him once again. Dipper trembled greatly.

Fuck, fuck, fuck… Jesus fucking Christ… god, why do you do this to me, I thought we had a deal—

"You could all learn from Mr. Pines." Mr. Walls smiled, setting his eyes on the mentioned young boy. Dipper immediately felt sick to his stomach. He felt as if he was going to hurl.

"C-could…" Dipper started, standing up quickly, his knees feeling like they were going to give out on him. "Could you not use me as an example…" he mumbled quietly.

"Mr. Pines?" Mr. Walls started, an eyebrow raised. Concern laced his voice as he gazed at Dipper. "Something the matter? I was just giving an example-"

"Well, don't fucking do that! Can't you see it makes me uncomfortable?!" Dipper cut in, his hands balled into fists. He then wrapped his arms around his body and trembled. "I… I need to leave." Dipper mumbled, grabbing his bag and rushing out of the classroom. The eyes followed him as he left. Dipper stood next to the open door of the classroom, taking shaky, deep breaths to calm himself. The school halls were empty, excluding the few students roaming about with hall passes. Dipper quickly screwed the flask's cap back on with trembling hands, making sure it was tight and secure. He smelled like strong whiskey, wet splotches on his jacket where the liquid had splashed out. Dipper sighed deeply. He jumped when he heard Mr. Walls walk up to him from behind, his footsteps reverberating around the empty halls. He shut the classroom door to give the two some privacy. Dipper shoved the flask back in his jacket, holding his hand there.

"Gabriel, is something the matter?" Mr. Walls asked the young teen, genuine concern in his voice.

"S-sorry." Dipper choked out, praying that Mr. Walls didn't smell the strong whiskey on him. "I didn't mean t-to…" he trailed off.

"I know." Mr. Walls assured, nodding slowly. "Can I tell you something, Gabriel?" he asked, leaning against the brick wall, his arms crossed. Dipper swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Yes sir." Dipper nodded quickly, his eyes shifting away from his instructor.

"My father, through the duration of my childhood, was a heavy drinker. He would go out to the local bar every night to drink, and sometimes he would drink at home. And that was the worst. He would smash and break things when he did, which caused me to stay in my room and hide under my bed until he passed out on the floor." Mr. Walls explained softly, not looking at Dipper. Instead he looked across the way, admiring the long student-made poster that declared, 'Welcome to WoodWorth!' all in the school's colors with glitter and stars. "I vowed to never become like my father. I occupied myself with other things to dull the pain after he left my mother and I. Church. Sports. I wanted to help other children who fell victim to this kind of life. Did you know in my free time, I talk to children with abusive parents?" Mr. Walls finished, turning his head to look slowly at Dipper, who was nervously picking at the seams of his old, worn out blue jeans.

"I didn't know that." Dipper answered quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat once again. Oh god, what is he implying—

"I want to help you, Mr. Pines." Mr. Walls broke into Dipper's panicked thoughts. "I can smell the alcohol."

Dipper almost broke down crying. "Oh god, please don't tell anyone…" Dipper begged, his body beginning to tremble severely. "I swear I won't ever sneak it into your class again if we can just let this go and forget about it!" Dipper was almost in tears. "It's for the pain. I promise, it's for the pain!" he was about to lift up his shirt and show Mr. Walls his horrendously bruised sides and stomach in desperation. Mr. Walls stopped him, holding a hand up.

"No need to explain. I'll walk you down to the nurse's office." Mr. Walls comforted, putting a hand on Dipper's back to reassure him. "Come on."

The two made their way to the front of the school, down the winding hallways that Dipper frequently ran through from his bully pursuers. They passed the few students that roamed, not taking a second glance at them. Mr. Walls opened the door to the office, motioning Dipper inside. A woman noisily typed away on a computer at the desk, chewing and popping on bubblegum. "Can I help you two?" she asked rather starkly, blowing a bubble and popping it. She stopped typing on the computer and looked up, brushing thick blonde hair out of her face, Dipper noticing the longest red nails he'd ever seen on a person's fingers. Her makeup was just the definition of a train wreck to Dipper. "Ohh, Mr. Walls." she smiled, her gaze flicking from Dipper to the mentioned teacher. "What's up?"

"Gabriel here is in need of Mrs. Mella." Mr. Walls answered nicely, though Dipper could have sworn he was biting back annoyance.

"First door down the hall and it's going to be on your left." The office attendant answered, and then continued typing away on the computer. Mr. Walls nodded his thanks and led Dipper down the short hallway, several plaques hung on the wall along with photos of staff members belonging to the school. A sign hung on the mentioned door, stating 'Mrs. Mella; School Nurse. Just come on in!'. Mr. Walls opened the door, placing a hand on Dipper's shoulder and walking him inside. The door snapped shut, making Dipper jump slightly. The room smelled of disinfectants and throat spray. Dipper looked around nervously. Several posters hung sloppily on the walls; one showing a list of '101 Ways to Have Fun Without Having Sex!' and a 'Smoking Is Bad!' in bright colors. A rather plump, curly red-haired woman in her mid-thirties sat at a small desk with a laptop upon it, typing down recent students that had been in to see her. She swiveled around in her chair and looked Dipper up and down, a cheery grin spreading across her face.

"Hello there, dear! How can I help you today? And it's been a while, Mr. Walls, yes it has!" Dipper noticed the rather distinct southern accent in Mrs. Mella's voice.

Mr. Walls cleared his throat. "Good evening, Mrs. Mella. I have Gabriel Pines in here to see you today. He's been having some… troubles."

Mrs. Mella's smile dropped. "Can you tell me what's wrong, dear? You don't look so well, I see." She motioned Dipper to sit on the uncomfortable school nurse bed propped up against the far wall. He complied, sitting down nervously. The sterile paper underneath crinkled as Dipper made himself comfortable on the bed. Dipper looked at Mr. Wells, a mix of fear and uncertainty on his face. He may as well have been a sad puppy begging for food.

"Go on, tell her," Mr. Walls answered Dipper's silent pleas, nodding. "It's alright."

"I-I, uhm…" Dipper started quietly. "I have these really bad bruises on my sides and stomach." He finished, rubbing his arm in embarrassment. Mr. Walls nodded, willing Dipper to continue. "And I… have been drinking heavily to dull the pain." He finished, just barely above a whisper.

"Oh… dear…" Mrs. Mella fretted, looking at Dipper with immense worry. "May I see the bruises, my dear?" she asked, motioning for Dipper to lift up his shirt. Dipper obeyed, slipping off his jacket and setting it on the bed. He made sure the flask didn't fall out in turn. He then lifted his orange shirt, showing the school nurse his bruises. Mrs. Mella shook her head, her eyes closed. She looked as if she was trying to hold back tears. "Dear, can you tell me how you got these?" she asked after a few short, awkward moments. "And don't lie to me!" she added when Dipper opened his mouth to explain, a lie ready for her.

Dipper swallowed his fear. "It was just a run-in with a few kids. No big deal." He shrugged, passing it off as if it were nothing. He made a mental note to not mention what his father had done to him just the night before as well. He knew the school would stick their noses in his business if they found out anything about his home life.

"Here at the school?!" Mrs. Mella exclaimed, standing up. Dipper nodded slowly.

Oh, god, please don't make a big deal out of this—

"Can you tell me their names? I need to know, Gabriel. This needs to be reported right away!" Mrs. Mella snapped Dipper out of his thoughts.

Dipper shook his head. "No. It's too much trouble. I won't tell you."

"Gabriel!"

"I said no." Dipper stated firmly. He got up as he heard the bell ring for lunch, as if the universe was saving him from this predicament. He slipped on his jacket, the metal flask falling to the floor with a loud TING and spinning for a few seconds before stopping at Dipper's feet. He sighed and closed his eyes. "May I go now?" he asked, pretending the flask hadn't just fallen onto the floor in front of him. He snatched it up quickly, hissing in pain from bending over, grabbing one of his bruised sides in discomfort. "Please let me go." He barely wheezed as he stood hunched over, stuffing the flask into his jacket pocket and squinting. Mrs. Mella and Mr. Walls exchanged looks.

"Meet me here after school." Mrs. Mella spoke slowly; making sure Dipper heard every word. It took a few moments before Dipper stood up fully, huffing as if he had just picked up a five-hundred pound weight. He nodded. "And not a minute late!"

Dipper left the nurse's office, Mr. Walls following close behind. "Get some lunch. And if you need to talk to me, my door is open after school until five. Don't hesitate to come in after hours, alright?" Mr. Walls assured, patting Dipper carefully on the shoulder as if he would break right in front of him.

Dipper nodded. "Thanks." He forced a small smile. The two split ways; Dipper making his way to the lunch hall and Mr. Walls back to his classroom.

Dipper felt emotionally drained. Now to just get some lunch and two classes left and I'm done for the day. He reminded himself. His heart dropped when he thought of returning home. Home. But I have to return to the nurse after school. I hope she doesn't keep me too long. I have to catch the bus. Dipper groaned inwardly. He entered through the threshold of the noisy and busy lunch hall, the aroma of pizza and fries filling the air. Dipper's stomach grumbled in response. He dug into his pants pocket, fishing out a few wrinkled up and folded dollar bills with a few coins in change. Dipper stood in line to get his lunch, rocking on his heels and humming to himself. He made it to the front of the line and grabbed his tray, a slice of pepperoni pizza dripping in grease and soggy French fries. Lovely. Dipper noted with disdain. He sat down at a somewhat busy table, far away from the other students that occupied it. He poked at his food with a plastic fork, sighing heavily, his apatite declining.

Dipper shrugged after a few bites of his food, getting up and dumping his tray. The bell rang, signaling for the five minute warning to get to his next class. Dipper was shoved roughly out of the lunch room by rushing students hurrying to their next classes. Tears stung in Dipper's eyes as several hands and elbows met with his bruised sides. He caught his breath when he made it out of the throng of students, pain surging through his body. Dipper made his way to his locker, turning the lock and entering the three-digit combination. He opened the locker door, digging out what was needed for his next class, and slammed it shut.

"Hey, Pines." A familiar voice greeted Dipper, belonging only to—

Davie.

Dipper sighed heavily. "What do you want?" he asked quietly, staring at his closed locker.

Davie leaned against the red, beat-up locker next to Dipper's, his arms crossed over his massive chest. "I saw." He grunted.

"Uhh?" Dipper turned toward his visitor, genuine confusion in his voice.

"You snitched. John and Mike saw you running to the school office like a little girl. We saw Mr. Walls with you too." Davie narrowed his eyes, jabbing a finger into Dipper's chest. Dipper winced.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dipper tried to play it cool. "I was in class until the bell rang for lunch. That was someone else you saw with Mr. Walls."

"Pines, don't lie to me. Remember what happened last time…?" Davie warned. Dipper's mind flashed to the day before and he shuttered. The bell rang for the start of class, reverberating down the empty halls. Dipper started to walk off, only to be yanked back by the collar of his jacket. "I wasn't fucking done with you, dipshit, did you hear me?" Davie growled. Dipper swallowed the lump in his throat.

"It was about something else. It had nothing to do with what happened yesterday. I'm going to class." Dipper shoved Davie off of him, breaking into a full sprint down the hall, his sneakers squeaking in turn. When he was sure he was out of sight and Davie wasn't in pursuit after him, Dipper hunched over and took in long, ragged breaths. "Jesus fucking Christ…" he barely got out as he stood up, grabbing his sides in pain. Dipper made sure no one was looking as he chugged down the remainder of his alcohol, wiping away the evidence from his mouth. This is the only way I can even stand going to the remainder of my classes.