I really, really don't own anything
Dash had never seen the teen so red before... well... Dash's mind drifted back to the incident, but he shook that thought away.
The silence in the room was building, becoming thick enough for a knife to run through. Danny standing against the door and Dash standing in front of him, neither of them breathing (audibly). Minutes seemed to pass by, and after a while Dash opened his mouth:
"So... you're in the business?"
The blonde regretted saying that as soon as he felt the object that Danny threw whizz by the side of his head.
"Shut up." The raven snapped.
"Hey, don't tell me what to do!" Dash said, feeling his own temper rise. "It's not my fault I nearly walked in on you fucking some guy!"
"Just stop talking about it!" Danny said, his voice rising along with his own temper.
"Stop talking about it? I would if I could; I can't even keep myself from remembering it you fucking fag."
In an instant those blue eyes froze, seeming to fill with surprise, hurt, and embarrassment before casting down. Silence began to build up again, leaving them both on square one. The blonde felt guilt pang at his heart as he watched the other fist his hands and face the floor, and he could swear he heard a sniffle along the silence.
God he was such an ass.
Scratching the back of his head, he looked away, not knowing what was the right thing to say.
"Hey... uh, Fenton, I-"
"You should go home." Danny said quietly, cutting the jock off. Still facing the floor, the Fenton turned around and opened the door, gesturing the other out.
"Fenton, listen, I didn't mean to-"
"Go."
Dash knew when he should stop talking, so he took the cue and left the room, slowly walking down the stairs and listening to the door click shut. He stopped and listened a little more, but there wasn't anything he could hear.
The Fenton leant against the door, biting down on his lip. His body trembled and he could feel something brewing in the back of his eyes.
Fag.
Fucking fag.
Finally, he could feel something in him break and he couldn't keep the tears from sliding. His knees gave and he soon had himself sliding down against the door, crumbling into a small, sobbing pile.
Dash knows.
The last person he wanted to have find out, found out first.
Danny pulled his knees to his chest, letting his head rest against it. He didn't even remember how it started, didn't even remember the reason behind it, but it was clear to the both of them (he and Vlad) that they wanted it.
Danny shuddered.
It was a disgusting thought. It was a disgusting act, but it was addicting.
Addicting.
Relieving.
Comforting.
More tears leaked through tightly closed eyes. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, the boy loved the rough sex. It was almost like having someone care about you. The caressing, the kissing, the holding and the connection. Goosebumps appeared on Danny's arms at the memories of him and Vlad.
'This isn't fair.'
He didn't mean to say it like that. Or say anything like that at all, it just slipped out. Dash put his hand to his face and dragged it down, trying to see a brighter side to the situation.
'Like there is a brighter side to this.' He grumbled to himself. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he spared one last glance at Danny's window before heading off in the direction of his own house. 'And it's not my fault I said that, he is a faggot.'
And that's exactly why you're in this situation.
Another sigh came from the blonde.
'Go away.'
Because you never act nice to that kid, you don't know how to handle a situation like this and end up doing something stupid.
'Jesus Christ, just leave me alone.'
You know I'm right.
And Dash knew that the voice in his head, that suspiciously sounded like an older Kwan, was right. He had absolutely no kindness for anyone else unless it was for the good of the team (Hence his ability to get along with the other football players), or unless it was for the good of his reputation. The blonde knew he had no real people skills, and that everything was going to go downhill for him after high school. Without those goddamn people skills that everyone seemed to be fond of, he would end up jobless, or working in the outskirts of a dusty town.
Try to be nice to him Dash, The voice said. The jock merely grunted in return, watching the cracks of the sidewalk as he walked.
'... Even if I were nice to him, he wouldn't trust me.'
Nothing's instantanious.
'Yeah, but what 'nice thing' could I do?'
Maybe you should start by apologizing?
He stopped walking at that moment. 'Apologize? Me, apologize to him? For what?'
For saying what you said to him. That stupid 'Sticks and stones may break my bones' thing isn't true, and you know that better than anyone else.
The blonde looked at the lamp-post on the corner on the street, staring at it with concentration. And after a moment of silent thought, he nodded, and continued to walk on.
'Yeah, maybe I should say something to him at least... I mean, fags are touchy and sensitive about that stuff.'
Is it strange that I talk to myself like this? Oh well, writers can't afford to be sane when in the writing norm.