John stared out of the classroom window absently, watching how the trees rustled around in the gentle wind. It was a beautiful day; autumn had not taken over yet so all the trees were still a luscious green. The only thing dampening their color was the Texan heat that seemed to drain everything slowly of its life. He sighed and slowly drug his attention back to the front of the classroom where the teacher was talking. Once upon a time, he would've been paying attention; he would have been the model student.

But not now.

Now he was waiting and getting more tense by the minute until the school bell would sound its alarm for the end of another torturous day in his new prison. If things went right, John would bolt at the first chance and hopefully get ahead of his new "fans" he had made here.

John sighed and idly fiddled with some raven hair that splayed out awkwardly from the temples of his glasses then looked back up at the clock. Any time now, the piercing sound would reverberate throughout the halls and signal another day's end. He packed up what was left on his desk and looked around the room, managing not to stand out against his other classmates' shifting, getting ready to go as well. They were probably going to meet up with friends or get the heck out of there like he was.

Then it sounded. John felt his stomach plummet and quickly grabbed up his backpack, wrapping his blue jacket tighter around himself. He briskly walked out of the classroom and went past his locker, having learned to prepare ahead of his last class for it cut down his likelihood of being caught. He saw the doors and his stomach gave a little flutter of excitement at possibly going unscathed again. His bruises from the last time were almost completely gone, only giving a slightly yellow tinge that revealed their existence. He sighed as fresh air hit his face and started for the bus stop.

"Ooomf," he gasped, suddenly jerked backwards by something pulling on his backpack.

"Where are you going so fast?" someone snickered behind him, joined by some lewd jeers from the others. Still being pulled backwards, he regained footing and clumsily started treading backwards, trying desperately not to fall. His stomach dropped to an ultimate low as he saw the doors draw further away and his hope of anyone helping him along with it. They were now where he could not see the doors and John was thrown against the brick walls. His head colliding with a loud snap and he gave out another "oomf" as the air temporarily escaped from his lungs.

"Hey, answer me, dweeb," the guy hissed, pushing John's shoulder. John turned his wide blue eyes at the one who had spoken, glancing at the other three and tried to think of what to say so that maybe he'd get out unscathed. Fat chance. "I-I was U-uh…going home," he answered timidly, trying to lighten whatever situation this was.

"Aw, why would you do that? We haven't played in a while." the guy laughed, pushing John yet again. He felt his backpack crushing up behind him as he tried to get any distance away while the four much bigger guys laughed at him. He looked up at the slightly cloudy blue sky, wishing suddenly he was the wind and could fly up and away from these jerks.

He was brought back to reality as he heard himself take a sharp intake of breath and pain blossomed from his gut. He doubled over automatically, trying to get a bearing on the pain, and an unseen hand shoved him down by his shoulders. He teetered until his backpack threw him off balance and he fell onto the ground.

More laughing.

He didn't make a noise as he pulled his hands under him, pushing up, trying to get back up so his head wouldn't be in as much danger but then a foot connected with his already sore stomach and sent him rolling on his back with another, louder gasp. "Oh come on, this is no fun Egbert," the leader of the group hissed, stepping up and putting pressure on one foot. John clenched his teeth. They wanted to hear him beg for them to stop, to cry. Like he had before, he didn't like to appear weak and that always made this event longer than it had to be.

He was suddenly drug up by someone pulling on his backpack again and another one of the four guys punched him ruggedly across his face, making his head snap to the side as he saw an explosion of stars.

After another punch to the gut, tears finally starting to prick at his eyes from the pain, whoever was behind him let go and he dropped to his knees. "That's more like it," one of the assholes laughed, pushing him down further onto his stomach, right before they all closed in and started to kick at him. He rolled up, covering his head with his arms.

"Please stop!" John finally shouted, his voice shaking as tears slid down his cheeks. They all howled with laughter and as one final move, one of them grabbed his glasses off his face and threw them to some unknown corner of the school lawn. He didn't move until they were all gone only then did he uncurl and painfully sit up. Finally, he let the sobs wrack through his body; at least they hadn't gotten to see him like this.

John stayed like that for a few more minutes, getting control over his sobs and wiped at his face. He looked at the blurry image of his hand and was able to make out a red splash on it. Great, something was bleeding and he hurt everywhere too much to know exactly where it was coming from. He hiccupped a bit and then sighed as he shimmied his backpack off. He started crawling on all fours, reaching his hands out experimentally for his glasses but only grasping at dry tufts of grass.

He hated it here. He hated that he had to move from his nice home in Washington to this inferno called Texas because his dad's job moving. He didn't have many friends at his old home, but he certainly didn't have any bullies. Now all he had was bullies, the only people who gave him any mind. But that was probably part of being a sophomore, completely new, and having acted like his nerdy self at the very beginning, somehow pissing them off with his constant smile and laugh.

John sighed, wondering exactly how long it would take to find his glasses. There was no way he would be able to get home without them since the buses had to be long gone by now. He crawled back over to his backpack and leaned his head back against the jagged brick wall.

A spike of terror ran through his spine as he heard the dry crunch of grass under someone's feet. He desperately tried to flatten himself into the shadows, praying that whoever it was wouldn't feel the need to beat him up. He saw a figure come blurrily into sight.

"Well golly, what are spectacles doing way out here?" John heard the figure ask, presumably to himself, and watched it bend down. He saw a blurry head lift back up and look, stopping on him. John's breathing hitched as panic started to bubble up his throat.

"What the dickens happened to you ol' chap?" the figure asked, rushing over to John, "Are these yours?" he asked, holding out John's glasses. John gulped and nodded slightly, taking the glasses and slipping them onto his face. He turned his gaze up at the guy standing in front of him.

He was wearing a jacket that was a beautiful emerald green and had white sleeves. Moving his gaze up further, the man in front of him had raven black hair similar to his own but had an unruly cowlick in the front. He also had glasses but instead of John's sky-blue eyes behind those lenses, the eyes were a deep forest green that didn't wither in the southern heat and more breathtaking than the jacket's color. It complimented very well on his tan complexion, making John think of the wilderness.

"T-thanks," John stuttered, still slightly cringing. The guy smiled down at him, his buckteeth becoming prominent as his lips pulled back, his eyes squinting shut a little. He held out his hand and John cringed back into the wall, screwing his eyes shut in fear.

"I was just going to help you out 'ol chap," the man said reassuringly, still holding out his hand. "Oh, thanks," John said, hesitantly clasping the man's hand. He allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. "I'm Jake by the way." Jake smiled, still holding his hand before giving it a firm shake. "I'm John…" John said timidly, his arm bouncing excitedly with the friendly gesture.

"So do you mind explaining what happened?" Jake asked him, giving him a worried look. John guessed his nose must have been what was bleeding by the way Jake was staring at it. Jake made a noise and fished around in his jacket pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. "Here you go," he stated to John, thrusting it into his hand.

"Oh...thanks," he said quietly, feeling the silky softness of the cloth with his fingers before dabbing at his nose. John made a face seeing the blood. "I'm sorry…" he mumbled. "Oh it's fine, that's what they're for," Jake laughed a bit and then got serious again. "But really, do tell me what in god's name happened. I can make guesses but I would like to hear straight from the horse's mouth."

John sighed, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "Well, short story version, bullies happened," he confessed, worrying nervously over his bottom lip. He shifted his gaze over to the side, not looking at Jake while the other teen stood there thoughtfully.

Jake looked him over, "How about we go for a stroll?" he asked as he smiled down at the blue-eyed teen. "We can walk and talk! It is a perfect day for an adventure in this concrete jungle, wouldn't you say?" he laughed, clapping one hand around John's shoulder. John jumped at the touch but smiled up at the new gentleman. "Sure," he replied, smiling his own toothy grin for the first time in forever.