Summary: Brendon's mute and a loner and Dallon's a part of the group of bullies that beat up Brendon. When one day it goes to far, Dallon sticks up for B and helps him out.
....
It was lunch time at school, Brendon, as per usual, was sitting in the bathroom, alone.
He was in a cubicle, sobbing because he had been called a "faggot" in his last class by none other than Dallon Weekes himself. All because of his lavender coloured sweater that was a little to big for him.
He wiped his eyes and jumped when he heard the door open, sliding his glasses back on.
"Hey, look guys, it's the little gay boy!" Dallon's friend, Ryan, taunted.
Brendon looked down, defenceless. Not that he would defend himself. He was selective mute due to his crippling social anxiety.
See, he didnt really care what the other boys said about him, it just hurt that little bit more when Dallon did. Maybe because he had a huge crush on him, who knows?
Dallon didnt say anything, just took out his box of cigarettes while eye-ing Brendon up and down, making the smaller boy feel quite intimidated.
"Ah fuck, I dont have a lighter," he cursed, "anyone have one?"
The group of bullies shook there heads, one of them, spencer, still holding Brendon tightly by the back of his shirt.
"Bring the fag over here." He demanded,
Spencer gave Brendon a harsh shove and he landed at Dallon's feet. Dallon gave him a small kick, not enough to hurt but enough to scare him senseless.
"Hey, fairy, do you happen to have a lighter?" He asked,
"Dal, a little faggot like him would never smoke!"
Dallon laughed, "Well, do you?"
Brendon shook his head, his eyes filling with tears behind his thick glasses.
"Talk, pretty boy!!" He demanded, kicking Brendon a little harder.
A soft noise escaped Brendon's throat but he still couldn't talk, his mouth almost as if it was frozen. He was too scared to even move.
"Wait, I have a lighter, Dal!" One of the boys called out as he reached out of his pocket.
"Thanks, Jon."
"We dont need fairy anymore, let's skeet." He said, taking a drag from his cancer stick.
"I think we should teach him a lesson for being a smart ass." Ryan said, rolling up his sleeves and walking over to Brendon.
"I dont. Leave him now." Dallon asked, leaving the room, Spencer following behind him.
When Dallon left, Ryan and Jon grabbed Brendon and started kicking him all over. His face, his torso, his legs, everywhere.
Eventually, they got board and with one last kick to Brendon's face, they leave.
Brendon lay curled up in a ball, crying. He knew he was bleeding, but he couldn't spare a thought to that. He was in so much physical and emotion pain that he just cried.
He couldn't remember how long he cried for but he remained curled up on the bathroom floor until he heard the door swing open again, and then he quickly got up and ran into a cubicle.
Sniffing, he wiped his nose, only to see that the once lavender sleeve of his sweater was now covered in blood.
"Hey, pretty boy, I know you're in here somewhere." Dallon taunted, the smile evident in his voice.
