Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Why do you think he wears a mask?”

“Maybe he’s just weird like he runs the school store for fun? Who does that?”

“I heard that he has really creepy scars under it. Like his dad used to really fuck him up. I’m talking Joker-status like legit cuts up the sides of his mouth.”

“Yeah! Wasn’t his father arrested over break?”

“What do you think, Batter?”

“Yo, Batter, you there, man?”

He had only been half listening to what his friends around him were saying. All anyone wanted to talk about was Zacharie. He had been a pretty normal kid, flew under the radar mostly, until summer break ended. He came back to school wearing masks. It was strange and no one understood. The only thing people noticed was that he was quieter than before and teachers never told him to take it off. He didn’t tell anyone the real reason he wore a mask, so all the students had to work with was their imagination; not that the truth played much into rumors regardless.

“I dunno, he’s probably just a psycho or something.” Batter added his comment, sending his friends back into a flurry of speculation. It didn’t matter much what Batter said, as long as it went with the topic, all he needed was a quick negative assertion, then the others would take over from there.

It didn’t matter what Batter had to say because he never had much of an opinion to assert. He was captain of the renowned Purity High School baseball team and his personality wasn’t exceptional. That didn’t stop him from being one of the most popular students. He was cool. People referring to him by his surname, which ironically suited his abilities as well, only made him seem more mysterious and likeable. He seemed bored most of the time, but that just made people try harder to impress him. He was good at baseball, not deep conversation.

As far as Zacharie went, anyone who knew anything about the two could say they were something of opposites. Zacharie didn’t have an athletic bone in his body and certainly didn’t partake in organized sports. To those he talked to, he was quite the conversationalist. He made his few close friends laugh on a daily basis. He had a bit of a temper, which typically comes with strong opinions, but he was good at keeping his mouth shut when he thought it best.

He was different and seemed introverted, so nobody, including Batter, had much of an opinion of him. That was true, until senior year.

The bell rang, rushing the students towards the door, but not stopping their gossip. Batter slung his backpack over his shoulder and began making his way out, sandwiched between his friends and their gossip.

“Mr. Batter, I need to speak to you before you leave.” The teacher’s voice cut through the din and Batter froze in his steps. His friends chuckled and elbowed him before leaving the room, tossing ‘good-luck’ and ‘you're screwed’ grins over their shoulders.

Batter turned on his heel, walking up to Elsen’s desk with a familiar dread, “Something you need, Ms. E?” He questioned, clutching the strap of his backpack. He waited for the all too frequent lecture about his horrible math grades.

“Take a seat.” She said coolly and he quickly obeyed. He figured this was going to be lengthy if he had to sit for it, “Mr. Batter, you understand that you’ve failed every math class since your freshman year, correct?” He nodded, as if that was something he wouldn’t know, “Well, i’ll tell you a few things I know in turn. I know you’re head of the baseball team. I know that if you were to get kicked off because of your grades, the entire school, not just you, would pay for it.”

“I also know that a student from Advanced Placement calculus would be more than happy to tutor you. So, I’m willing to make a deal. If you agree to meet with your tutor everyday after baseball practice, and manage to get above failing for this year, I’ll see to the rest. I need to see a real effort out of you Mr. Batter. Does this sound fair?”

Batter knew he had no choice. The only thing he had going for him was his baseball. He knew how close he was to being booted from the team last year. No matter how hard he tried to get his grades in order, they just seemed to slip away from him. Nothing made sense. Math was just too concrete for him.

He obediently nodded once more and stood up from his seat. The teacher extended her hand and when he shook it, he felt as though he was sealing a deal with hell itself; signing away all of his freedom and happiness to a math book of riddles he could never solve.

“Your tutor will meet you after practice today. I hope you didn’t have plans.”

“Of course not, Miss. Thank you for helping me out.” He smiled, his words burning like vomit, clawing up his throat.

The day went by agonizingly fast; different from how it would typically drag. It was like the entire universe stopped just to concentrate every force on getting Batter to his tutor. Or at least that’s how it seemed to him.

“Dude, the bell’s already rung. Get your ass in gear, we got practice.” Tim gripped his arm, tugging him forward as Sam pushed him in the back. “Do you know how pissed coach would be if you even thought of being late? On the first day?”

Batter knew perfectly well how much trouble he would be in. He also knew that he had never been late to practice before, so those worries were irrelevant. It wasn’t practice he was dreading; it was the tutor afterwards.

“So what did Elsen chew you out for this time? Fail another test?” Batter shrugged as though the question or the answer meant nothing to him.

“I have to get tutored after practice now.” He responded briefly and shrugged again, though this was more to cover a shutter than emotion.

Both of his friends loudly voiced their dissatisfaction, shouting and groaning for Batter, “How the hell could she do that to you, man? What a bitch!” One would growl and another would chip in, “I’d kill myself if I had to study extra math with some fucking AP dork!” This was their way of showing sympathy, but all it did was increase the horror with which Batter anticipated his tutoring session.

Practice was a breeze, outside of the anxiety Batter felt welling up inside of him. Of course, he wasn’t late and the coach was excited to see him. They ran their laps, they went through the motions that Batter knew in his heart of hearts. If he didn’t have the stress of extra math to worry about, he could have lost himself in the sport he loved as he always did. This was where he thrived, not a classroom.

Though that meant little, as the world expected perfection and Batter tried to deliver. Throughout practice, all he could think of was that pressure:
Mr. Batter, you understand that you’ve failed every math class...
Get your ass in gear!
Fail another test?
I’d kill myself!

“Holy shit.” Someone whispered, as he hurried through the locker room door. Batter looked over, toweling his hair dry and slipping his baseball cap back onto his head. The same guy gestured to another person on the team, “You’ll never guess who’s outside.”

“Who?” Another boy shimmied over to the door, holding his towel up with one hand and pushing his friend with the other as he tried to get a look.

“Do you need me to tell you? Like, who else dresses like that?” The first boy rolled his eyes and turned to Batter, “Battman, there’s someone out there for you. They said they’re your tutor or something. Mad creepy, dude...”

Batter got up slowly, being sure not to rush and risk looking interested. The boys at the door parted to let him through and he stopped in the doorway upon seeing his tutor. He was shocked, but knew this had to be a mistake. It absolutely had to be a mistake.

Chapter Text

“There you are. You've kept me waiting long enough.” She spoke quickly and with a purpose, as if she had been waiting hours instead of minutes. Batter was a slip away from actually apologizing to her. Though he had never spoken to this girl before, she was intimidating.

Sugar was not a girl to be inconvenienced by much of anything. If there wasn't extra credit in the deal, she certainly wouldn't be spending her time tutoring a lost cause with a bloated sense of self entitlement. She wasn't necessarily strict, but rather she demanded respect. Her strength of character played well off of her closest friend’s, Zacharie’s, strength of wit.

Though, this wasn't something you’d pick up immediately from the lanky girl with a toddler’s bob-cut and clashing clothes that you’d most easily find in a circus.

Batter nodded, mildly confused by the paradox that was his new tutor, “Hey... Are you my tutor?” He questioned despite already knowing the answer. The girl’s face, level to his own, bloomed an unsettling frown. She rolled her eyes in calm annoyance, lifting her backpack up from the ground and beginning towards the school library. Sugar motioned for him to follow and Batter, reluctantly, pursued.

“I’m going to assume you don’t know who I am. We haven’t been in a class together since, what, sixth grade?” She thought aloud and briefly looked to Batter for confirmation, “I guess you wouldn't remember. My name’s Sugar.” She introduced herself as she opened the library’s entrance.

“Batt-”

“Batter.” She finished for him with a quick grin and seated herself at the nearest empty table, “I don’t think there are too many people in this school who don’t know who you are.” Batter sat down after her, regretting this even more than he had previously. Nobody had the guts to ever cut him off before. It was a strange feeling; being at the focal point of a conversation he couldn't get one word in.

“But enough of the introductions. You’re in pre-calculus, right?” She spoke without eye contact, too busy spreading out papers.

Batter nodded, but then realized she wasn't looking, “Yeah. We’re doing triggermetry.”

“You mean trigonometry?”

“Probably.” He looked down, embarrassed.

Sugar, though focused mainly on her papers, was watching him still. She noticed how uncomfortable he looked and felt a mild sympathy. Math came easily to her, but she understood that it would be unpleasant to have to work at it.

Suddenly, her phone began to ring in her pocket. Batter looked up just in time to see her vanish from the table, only leaving a quick, “Excuse me.” as she rushed off. Batter wanted to run away too. He was embarrassed to be tutored to start with, but to have no control at the same time? It was a blessing when his own phone vibrated.

This sense of relief was short lived however:

Where r u?
Tutoring, y?
I need u to come to my place. Now.
Queenie, I cant just leave
NOW

Batter leaned back in his seat and sighed. He couldn't leave his tutoring session and he couldn't not go to Queenie’s. He knew better than to ignore her.

Batter had been dating Queenie since freshman year. They were the power-couple of Purity High. She was beautiful and wealthy and no one questioned her happiness. However, only her family and Batter knew that she was a balloon full to burst with sorrow and rage. Batter slowly but surely learned of Queenie’s bipolarism after they began dating. After that point, no matter how bad her fits were, he couldn't bring himself to leave her.

So, he was in a situation; either he would wait for Sugar to return and his tutoring to end or he would ditch out to respond to Queenie’s command.

“You bastard! I can not believe that you would be “tutoring” with some girl!” Queenie screamed and picked up the nearest object of weight, tossing it at Batter as he stood at the threshold of her room. He flinched out of the way and ducked into the room, “How could you! How could you!” She chanted at a deafening tone.

Only seconds after, tears sprung from her eyes in an overwhelming flood, “I thought I could trust you! Three years! Why do you hate me!?” She pleaded and fell to her knees at the foot of her bed, splaying across it like a queen sprawled out over her throne.

Batter kneeled down next to her, “You know I don’t hate you. It was tutoring for math, that’s it.” He reassured her, never quite knowing what to say. Naturally, he spoke very little. This was enough for Queenie to cling on to though.

Queenie slowly looked up from the flush pink satin of her bed covers that, due to her tantrum, matched the color of her face exactly. She sniffled and wiped the leakage from her face onto the sleeve of her shirt, “Really?” She blinked a few times then continued, “What was her name?”

“It was Sugar or something.” He complied, acting as though he could hardly remember any girl’s name outside of Queenie’s. He was happy to see her calmer.

“Sugar?! Are you serious?! The one that looks like Ronald McDonald and the Salvation Army fucked and had a kid?” Queenie sputtered out between laughs and Batter smiled along.

“That’s the one.”

“Hah! And I thought you were cheating on me!” She wrapped her arms around Batter and hugged him tightly, “I guess it looks like I did you a favor by getting you out of that freak show.”

Batter agreed, but he knew ditching his tutor would blow back up in his face.

Sugar rushed out of the library, just in case this was something no one else could hear. It wasn't exactly the best timing, but she had never ignored a call from Zacharie before and she wasn't about to start now.

“Zach, what’s up?” She spoke first in an authoritative manner. It was a toss up when it came to the situation she’d hear from Zacharie. Everything could be fine and he could just be calling to talk, or he could be on the edge of self harm. She cared about him and couldn't take a chance.

“Nothing really, amiga. Though I was wondering if you were busy right now.” Sugar turned the phone away so that she could sigh in relief. Sugar smiled widely, which she reserved mainly for Zacharie, and put the phone back to her ear.

“I actually am. I’m tutoring someone for their math class.”

“Wow, aren't you a saint.”

“Shut up. I’ll be free in an hour, does that work for you?”

“Sounds excellent to me. See you then?”

“Yes, sir.” She ended her call and slipped her phone back into her pocket. Taking a breath, she turned around and went back inside the library. Sugar’s life was lonely. She was the only child of two parents who, though they loved her deeply, couldn't seem to relate to her. Having Zacharie around eased that loneliness and she knew that she could ease his loneliness as well.

So she didn't expect to be so shocked when she saw the empty table. He had left; no big deal. She didn't know why, but the empty table made a small pain form in her chest.

She pulled back out her phone:

“Calling back already? I thought you were busy tutoring?”

“Can you pick me up now?”

“Yeah, sure. See you in a bit.”

“See you.”

Chapter Text

“Mr. Batter, I’m sure you know why you’re in trouble.” Ms. Elsen was correct in her assumption. Batter knew perfectly well why he was about to be lectured, but he didn't really need to be told again. Since he had ditched out on Sugar that night, he felt guilty. Even if he believed he didn't have a choice with Queenie, he still couldn't help but feel bad.

“I’m real sorry, Ms. E, it was an emerg-”

“Honestly, Mr. Batter, I don’t want to hear it. It’s your future, not mine. You’re just lucky that your tutor was open to giving you another chance. I highly recommend you apologize to her and make an effort not to leave in the middle of another one of your tutoring sessions.”

An uncomfortable silence settled in and gave Batter a chance to feel even worse. He had left this girl without so much as a word and she was apparently still willing to give him a chance.

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you know where she lives?” He repeated himself and Ms. Elsen batted her eyes in confusion.

“Yes,” She said slowly, “But that’s not information I can really give to you.” Batter slumped a bit in his seat. It was difficult for Batter to feel like he’d failed at anything, let alone failed another person. It was more a guilt of failure than a guilt of conscience.

Ms. Elsen looked at Batter for a moment, thinking about how he seemed disappointed. In her mind, he must have felt truly guilty for having wronged Sugar, not his overwhelming desire to succeed. There was no other explanation. Batter rarely showed much emotion, even when faced with being kicked off the baseball team.

Now he was showing emotion over his studies...

Batter stared at the wooden door in front of him. He was hesitant to knock, not knowing if he really wanted to speak to the girl that would open it. He knew he had to apologize one way or another; being kicked off the team was not an option he was willing to take. Now that he was at the girl’s door, however, it was a bit harder than what he had it imagined it would be.

With a great pain to his ego, he lifted his fist and knocked on the door. It only took a moment for him to hear approaching footsteps; a girl’s light footsteps.

When he heard the doorknob turn, he sucked in a breath and closed his eyes as the door opened, as if he was bracing for a punch. He was by no means used to issuing apologies.

He opened his mouth and the words poured out like a waterfall of discomfort, “Hey, Sugar. I’m not so good at this, so just let me get it out. I’m really sorry I ditched out on you the other day. It was a family emergency, I guess. Like I said, though. I’m sorry.” He internally cringed and it showed clearly on his face.

A moment of quiet passed and Batter began to wonder if she was ignoring him.

“Well, I’d say that would probably be enough to get the door slammed in your face.”

Batter opened his eyes instantaneously. That was... Not a girl’s voice.

He looked forward to see a boy, about a foot shorter than himself, leaning against the threshold. As his eyes drifted down, the first thing Batter saw was messy black hair. Then, the mask that the hair was surrounding and falling over.

“You wanna tell me why you’re here to bother my friend again?” Zacharie asked, not hiding any sort of aggravation from seeping into his words. Just as Sugar cared for him, Zacharie cared for Sugar. Though, he typically didn't have to watch out for Sugar the way she watched out for him.

Batter stood there, sputtering. He didn't know what to do, what to say. He never expected to have to speak to a middleman. Apologizing to Sugar was something manageable; awkward, but manageable. However, explaining his actions to a pissed off friend of her’s...

Zacharie huffed a little and stepped back, “You really are dumb, aren't you?” He began to close the door after him, but Batter quickly reached out and stopped it before it shut.

“Wait!” He shouted and Zacharie froze up for a moment, not expecting a word, especially a loud one, to come from Batter, “Just wait a second, please.” Batter was still processing what to say, what he needed to do in order to make this situation work out alright.

Zacharie stood there for a moment, staring dumbfounded at Batter’s face. After a few more seconds had passed, he opened the door fully again, “Well? What do you want?” He asked, more confused now than angry.

That was enough to get Batter’s mouth moving again, though, that sometimes wasn't the smartest thing, “I want to apologize to Sugar for, uh-”

“For abandoning her while she was trying to help you?”

“Yeah, that.” Batter quickly agreed to what Zacharie said, as he couldn't put it together himself.

Zacharie took another hard look at Batter and, as if the guy had done anything to prompt it, suddenly forgave him, “You know, Sugar isn't even here right now.” He spoke as if he was still angry, but really, he just didn't know how to de-escalate his verbal emotion as quickly as his mind had.

“I’ll come back later then.”

Zacharie smirked under his mask, “She’ll be back in a few minutes...”

“I’ll wait out here.”

“Its pretty cold out...”

“I’ll wait in my car.”

“You don’t seem to be picking up on the invitation to wait inside...”

“Really, I can just come back-” Batter stopped himself this time. When did this transition into something friendly? Batter blamed the mask; there was no way he could tell what Zacharie was thinking if he had his face covered.

Zacharie moved backwards, allowing room for Batter to enter the house. Batter continued to stand there, his feet seemingly glued to the dirty “Welcome” mat in front of the door. 99 percent of him didn't want to go into the house of the circus girl with the rumored psychopath, but that other part of him was far too curious to pass up the chance.

As Batter moved through the doorway, he was surprised that the 1 percent had won out over every natural survival instinct he was born with.

Yet, much to his disappointment, he found nothing other than a normal house inside. There were stairs, not slides, and walls, not distorting mirrors; walls with average family portraits on them, no less. There were no animals running around, only white carpets, and the kitchen had no apparent cotton candy machine.

Batter was snapped out of his realization by a small laugh behind him, “You look so disappointed. What did you expect, an indoor carnival?” Batter was close to saying how that was exactly what he expected.

Zacharie walked past Batter and gestured for him to follow, “Come on. Sugar’s place is actually pretty great.” Batter had come this far and, though there was no circus, he felt compelled to follow where Zacharie led.

Chapter Text

Sugar opened the front door to her house, expecting relative silence. Her parents were on a joint business trip for the next few days and the only one home was Zacharie; though, the house usually didn't bustle with activity, even with her parents present.

So, hearing laughter and the sounds of Grand Theft Auto coming from the theater room was a bit of a surprise. She took off her jacket and her shoes, ever the while listening to the sound effects coming from the other side of the house.

Sugar’s parents made a considerable amount of money, both having high ranks in their respective companies. This income allowed for luxuries, such as the home theater Batter and Zacharie were in now, but left a certain museum-like emptiness without a whole family living inside it.

Sugar cracked open the theater door and peered inside, seeing Zacharie’s distinctive hair spike up from behind a seat. However, she didn't expect to see someone next to him; someone wearing a familiar baseball hat.

“Batter, drive faster.”

“I can’t control the goddamn car if its going too fast.”

“Well, you’re gonna get us killed by the fucking Albanian mob if you don’t drive faster.”

“Don’t backseat drive, dude.”

Batter? Like, Batter; the conceited jerk? Sugar thought to herself as she quietly made her way to the front of the theater where they were sitting. She couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that he was inside her house.

“Excuse me?” She announced her presence to a mixed reaction. Batter flinched upon hearing her voice, unintentionally tossing his controller. Zacharie kept his eyes on the game until ‘failed mission’ popped up on the screen. He turned to Sugar with a covered smile.

“Hey, amiga!”

“What’s he doing here?” Sugar asked in a tone that warned, “Don’t ‘hey amiga’ me”.

Zacharie put down his controller and leaned back in his seat, “He had something to say to you, so I let him wait here until you got back.” He turned to Batter as if to hand over conversation to him.

Batter was still a little shocked from her sudden appearance. As he stood up, it started to hit him that he was in her house, playing her video games and eating her Doritos. He nervously wiped the cheese coloring off onto his pants and tried to make eye contact.

Sugar was already staring at him with her typical authoritative glare. He took a second to collect his words, “Uh, I came by to apologize for ditching out on you the other day. Also, thanks for telling Ms. Elsen that you would still tutor me. I, uh, kinda got a lot riding on this.”

“If it matters so much why did you leave?”

Batter wasn't expecting that question, “Oh, um, my girlfriend-”

“Nevermind.” She quickly cut him off, “I don’t want to hear it.”

The few seconds of silence that passed went by with a tense slowness. Zacharie looked from Batter to Sugar, Sugar to Batter, waiting for one of them to break the tension.

“Next week. Monday. I’ll be there after your practice like last time.” Sugar crossed her arms and looked away, almost as if agreeing to help was a sign of weakness, “If you leave again, I promise I won’t give you another chance.”

Batter stared for a moment, stunned that she would still help him. His stillness cracked as a slight grin turned up at the corners of his lips, “Alright.” He said shortly, turned on his heel, and left.

Sugar continued to stare as he walked out, stunned as well.

“The Great Sugar, spreading love and charity wherever she goes.” Zacharie’s voice brought back Sugar’s focus, “We should really apply you for sainthood.” Zacharie lightly chuckled and Sugar turned to face him, looking down with a dubious expression.

“So, I see you and Batter are best buddies now, aren't you?” Sugar asked critically and Zacharie shrunk a bit under her gaze.

“I can talk to him and not be his ‘best buddy’. Why do you even care?”

“Oh, no reason. I’m just very curious as to why you were sitting here, playing GTA and fucking eating Doritos with a walking, breathing dildo really i’m just curious.” She rambled out and sat down heavily next to Zacharie.

Zacharie couldn't help but to laugh at that, “Are you jealous? Afraid you’ll lose your best friend to a dildo?” Sugar swiftly punched him in the arm as he continued to laugh.

“I just don’t like him. Even before I started tutoring him, I got this feeling that he really couldn't give a shit less about anyone other than himself.” Sugar shook her head and picked up the controller Batter had used, starting up the game.

Zacharie shrugged and leaned back in his seat, “I think you've got him wrong. I think he cares too much.”

“Battman, dude, how’ve you been? We haven’t seen you outside of practice in ages.” Sam popped his gum and looked over to Batter from the ground. He watched as Batter hit baseball after baseball with intimidating precision at the batting cage.

“Yeah, all you do is get tutored. I hear its pissing Queenie right off.” Tim added and tapped away at his IPhone, his face ducked down to better see his texts.

For a moment, Batter considered hitting the next baseball so that it would crack Tim’s nose, “Its not like I have a choice. Do you think I like being tutored?” Batter’s voice was steady as always.

The truth was that, by the two month mark, Batter did enjoy being tutored. His grades in precalculus remained at a steady C- and everyone was glad to hear it. Though, how much of that was from his grades and how much was from Ms. Elsen was debatable. From that immediate moment, there was no threat of Batter being kicked off of the team.

“No? Why would anyone want to sit there being barked at by cirque du skank?” Sam laughed and Batter cringed internally. That was another part of the tutoring he had grown to like.

“And what about her fucking Hello Kitty henchman?” This time Batter cringed physically, hitting the baseball with a spastic downward arc.

“I heard he’s so fucking ugly under his mask that-” Whack!

The baseball struck Tim directly in the nose, causing an uneasy crack to go through the air. It took a moment for all three of the boys to realize what had just happened. The shock really didn't come from Tim’s broken nose, but from the fact that Batter had swung a bad hit. They were all motionless, even after blood started to run from Tim’s nose.

Of course, shock couldn't hold off the pain of a broken bone for long, as Tim soon started cussing and sobbing. Sam hopped up from the ground and rushed to where Tim was shaking. Batter hurried over as well, wondering if what he had done was an accident or not.

“So I heard that Tim Dedan got you so mad that you broke his nose with one punch.” Zacharie wondered aloud and stretched his legs out further over Batter’s lap.

“Come on, does that even sound like Bat? We can hardly get him to multiply let alone feel.” Sugar joked, giving Zacharie a side glance from the opposite couch.

Batter shrugged, “We were in the batting cage and they said stuff that messed me up. I made a bad swing and the ball broke Tim’s nose. I didn't do it on purpose.”

“Bullshit.” You could hear the knowing grin in Zacharie’s voice as he sat up, “You never miss. What were they talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“And nothing messed you up?”

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

Queenie opened the door to her walk-in closet slowly and deliberately, letting the door creak to make sure Batter was paying attention. She stepped out of the dark of the closet, allowing herself to be entirely visible. She closed it and leaned her back against the door. Grinning, she toyed with the bow on the front of her corset.

“Do you like it? It’s brand new. I got it custom made because I know you only like white white, not off-white.” She tried to gauge his reaction, but that was a mistake. Typically, he’d give her something to work with; maybe a smile or his eyes might open a bit wider. This time though, as he sat there on her bed, he did nothing but stare.

She tried to ignore the vacancy in his eyes, sauntering forward like the royalty she was nicknamed after. She sat down on his lap and smiled despite the deep insecurity building inside of her. After he didn’t even move to touch her, she stood up in a huff.

Batter looked at her with mild shock, “What’s wrong?” He asked, but this question only served to anger her further.

“What’s wrong?” She repeated after him with venom dripping from her words, “What’s wrong? I should be asking you that question! What the hell is wrong with you?!” He stared at her with confused doe-like eyes and she felt sick.

She slapped him across the face and neither of them was sure what had happened. His cheek began to redden and so did her hand and it was so new and unusual that Queenie wasn’t sure where to go after that. She decided to slap him again.

“This is the first time we’ve spent any time together in the last month. One time and I try my best to make it special. I buy a goddamn four hundred dollar corset for this night; I haven’t eaten in two days because I wanted to fit it just right for you.” She took a haggard breath that only seemed to fan the flame of rage that was eating away at her, “And all you can do is stare and ask what’s wrong with me?”

Batter held his cheek and stood up from her bed. She backed away, giving him room, as she realized she had been shouting in his face. He turned away from her and towards the door, causing a sudden panic to settle into the center of Queenie’s gut.

“No, don’t leave!” She pleaded in a tone that still carried a considerable anger. As she took a moment to acclimate, her voice took on less of a plea, and more of an accusation, “It just figures that you’d leave! All you do is leave me alone! You hang out with those rejects and you don’t even care that I have no one to be with. You know how hard it is for me!”

Batter froze. He could still feel the sting radiating from his cheek, but it hurt less than her words, “I have no one but you! Mom and dad give me a credit card and tell me to go play. My friends tell me how lucky I am to have you, but they don’t know how lonely you make me feel!” Batter shuddered; a heavy guilt working its way up his spine.

“Look at me!” She yelped and Batter followed her command, turning to look at her with the same placid look he always bore, “Now come here.” Batter staggered over to where she was standing.

“Kiss me.” Batter leaned down and lightly brushed his lips against Queenie’s. She reached her arms up and around Batter’s neck and sighed, “Don’t leave me...”

A sudden nudge into Batter’s side drew him quickly out of thought. He looked over in time to see Zacharie stumble a bit to the side, having knocked himself over more than he had moved Batter; a consequence of their size difference.

“Hey there, Bat.” Zacharie quickly straightened up and walked next to Batter, hurrying a bit to keep in pace with Batter’s stride. He kept quiet for a moment, then spoke quietly, “How did your talk with Queenie go last night?”

Batter didn’t respond immediately, not wanting to admit anything about what happened that night. He took a breath and looked away, “I wasn’t able to talk to her. She, uh, didn’t wanna talk.” He spoke briefly, “I’m sorry.”

Zacharie looked to Batter and tilted his head in confusion. He hardly thought an apology was necessary, “Well, it’s ok. I know its gotta be hard to tell her something like that. I know-” Zacharie stopped talking when he saw the light bruising on Batter’s cheek. A rush of understanding and empathy jolted through him.

Zacharie took a hold of Batter’s arm and pulled him into the nearest empty classroom. Sam Japhet followed them with his eyes from across the hallway. He turned to the girl he was talking to, jutting a thumb in their direction, “Did you just see that?” The girl shook her head as Sam stared at the door.

“What’s wrong?” Batter asked with a feeling of Déjà vu. Zacharie let go of his arm and shut the door behind them. He stared at Batter for a long moment, considering what would be the best thing to do. Batter flinched when Zacharie moved towards him, only to find himself wrapped up in his arms.

Batter was rigid at first, but soon relaxed, allowing Zacharie to hug him. He was as unresponsive as usual, but Zacharie wasn’t discouraged by this. Instead, his compassion turned to embarrassment as he released Batter and stepped away.

Zacharie looked to Batter, confident that his blush was hidden under his mask, “Listen, I think after three months of being attached at the hip, I’ve gathered a thing or two about you. You don’t like the color orange, your socks never match unless you’re in your baseball uniform, you like really bad rap, and you care way too much about disappointing people.”

Batter still refused to look at Zacharie, “You worry about your baseball, you worry about your grades, you worry about what blockheads like Tim Dedan say, and you worry about me and Sugar. I get that, but its toxic. It’ll eat you up inside, but you’re gonna disappoint people in your life, Bat.”

“You can’t make everyone happy and I think the first thing you need to worry about is yourself. You don’t deserve things like this,” Zacharie reached up and touched the bruise on Batter’s cheek, causing him to wince, “You deserve someone who loves you unconditionally and I think I can do that for you. I won’t rush you to tell Queenie about it. Just know that if you want me, you’re going to have to disappoint a lot of people...”

Zacharie dropped his hand and looked at Batter, who still didn’t look back at him. He turned and left the classroom. Batter felt his face heat up a bit and his eyes start to prickle slightly.

This was the first time he had felt like crying since he had broken his ankle in the eighth grade.

Chapter Text

“Sugar, this is really bad. I-I think I messed up really bad.” Sugar’s breath caught in her throat as she heard the unstable tone of Zacharie’s voice. She held her phone close to her ear and sat down on her bed.

“Calm down; whatever you did, it can’t be that bad.” Sugar tried to keep the situation from escalating any further than where he was already, but it was hard to be strong for Zacharie when she was nervous as well, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I know why Batter’s ignoring us!” Sugar wanted to groan in frustration upon hearing this. It was all Zacharie seemed to worry about and Zacharie did not need to be worrying about that idiot. Sugar was upset as well; she missed Batter in her own way and wondered why he was being so distant, but not on Zacharie’s scale. Still, she understood why he’d be so disturbed, “It’s because I was too pushy. I couldn't just let him deal with Queenie at his own pace, no, I had to take him to the fucking side and lecture him!”

Zacharie’s voice shook as he tried to figure out why this was happening. In his mind, the only logical reason could be that he did something wrong, “I just... God, Sugar, you should have seen him! He was shaking! I honestly think he thought I was going to hit him! Oh God.”

Sugar waited for a break in Zacharie’s rant, “I guarantee it's not your fault. Whatever Batter’s malfunction is has nothing to do with you.”

“How could you know? You weren't there; you didn't see his face.”

“True. Maybe if you told me what happened, I could understand what his issue is.” Sugar slipped in an opportunity for Zacharie to vent, knowing that was what he needed. Though, she was certainly curious too.

Zacharie hesitated to speak, “So... So you know already that Batter and I sort of...”

Sugar shook her head in a moment of humor, “I still can’t understand it, but yeah.” She realized she was smirking and stopped herself, Zacharie’s voice reminding her that this wasn't carefree gossip.

“I asked Batter if he had told Queenie about me and him. He said he hadn't yet, but he seemed so much more upset, like, he apologized to me for it. I told him it was okay and everything, but then I saw that he had a bruise on his cheek and-” Zacharie choked on his words, “His face was bruised and he was shaking and...”

It didn't take Sugar more than a second to understand what Zacharie was saying, but it still seemed surreal. The idea of Batter, the cold and distant jock, being abused by Queenie? The Queenie? The little, five foot two, blonde, sweetheart of Purity High School. This girl was shaking Batter up that badly? From the little Sugar knew about Queenie, it seemed kind of ridiculous.

“So, I pulled him aside and... I gave him this whole hypocritical spiel about how he should stand up for himself! I basically gave him the ‘you can’t please everyone, only accept what you deserve’ bullshit that you've been giving me for years! I-Its not bullshit when you say it, but God it felt so wrong telling that to someone else. Who do I think I am?” Zacharie vomited forth the words like they were painful to have inside of him.

Sugar froze up further. She knew that giving advice was inherently hypocritical, that she had felt like a complete hypocrite all those years helping Zacharie. But did Zacharie honestly think that him helping Batter was any different from her helping him?

“Zach, helping someone, regardless of how hypocritical it is, isn't bad. If you really care about them and you can really help them, then it isn't wrong.”

“Yeah, but I didn't help him, Sugar! I told him that... Oh God, I spouted some cliche lovey-dovey nonsense and that just shook him up even more. Now he wants nothing to do with either of us!” Sugar could hear Zacharie’s voice crack, “He wants nothing to do with me!”

Sugar sucked in a short breath, “Okay. Zacharie. Has Batter ever lied to us?”

“No...”

“Then get the idea that he doesn't like you out of your head. I heard him say that he cared about you. So just stop thinking that.” Zacharie didn't respond and Sugar took this as a sign that he might be calming down. She decided to keep going.

“Now, Batter is not someone who’s very open with what he’s feeling. I think you may have just overwhelmed him. I think he just needs time...” She tried to explain, “That is if you want to give it to him. You don’t owe a walking, breathing dildo anything.”

Zacharie laughed quietly and nervously, the tension in his tone not seeming to waver, “Yeah... I guess you’re right...”

“Sweetie, you haven’t eaten anything.” Batter lifted his head to make eye contact with his mother for a moment, only to drop his vision back down to his full plate. Batter’s mother knew her son wasn't talkative, but she could tell when there was something wrong. It didn't take long for her to figure out what was bothering him.

She quietly sat down at the dinner table, folding her hands and looking in a random direction, “I haven’t seen Sugar or Zacharie around here lately... Are you not friends with them anymore?” She asked in a manner that made it seem like nothing more than a passing comment.

Batter sat up a bit in his seat, hardly knowing the answer himself. What could he tell her? That he hadn’t spoken to Sugar or Zacharie for the past week? Because he was afraid of losing his old friends, like Sam or Tim? Because he was afraid of letting down Queenie who depended on him so much? Because the only thing he could really think about was what Zacharie had said to him- Actually, he just couldn't stop thinking about Zacharie.

All of these things piled and climbed on top of each other, cramming Batter’s mind with anxiety and forcing him to take no action whatsoever. He allowed himself to slip back into his old relationships, his old habits, setting everything back to how it was before he met Sugar and Zacharie.

Batter’s mother understood that she wasn't going to get anything out of him; whatever was upsetting him, it was upsetting him too much for him to speak on it. She lightly sighed, “When I went to your high school, you know I was on the cheerleading team. I had lots of friends and everything seemed to work out just fine for me. Your father was my complete opposite. He didn't talk much and he had the worst of luck. My friends and I would pick on him all the time.”

“One way or another, your father and I fell in love. None of my friends wanted to believe me, but when they did, they cast me out of their clique. I dropped out of cheerleading because they were so mean to me. I was sad and regretted my decision for a while.”

Batter’s mother reached out and took his hand, “But then I realized that I still had your father and that your father loved me far more than any of those girls did. It was okay that they weren't my friends anymore, because I didn't want to be their friends either. They weren't true friends if they couldn't support me. I made new and better friends and ended up happy regardless of what those girls did.”

“It’s okay to cut people out of your life, sweetie,” Batter’s mother leaned up to place a kiss on his forehead, “Just make sure you’re cutting out the right people.”

Chapter Text

Queenie toted her boyfriend through the hallways with a new sense of pride. She looked up at Batter’s face and was pleased by his emotionless, yet submissive demeanor. She looked around and saw the envious faces of her friends. She spotted Sugar, who immediately averted her gaze when she noticed Batter.

She was in control. This feeling of victory filled her up inside and she glowed with satisfaction. Batter, her friends, even people she hardly knew, all knew their place and no longer encroached on what she had; what she deserved and most desperately needed.

Queenie took a firm grip on Batter’s arm. It had been a week or two since he had spoken to those outcasts. That time was instead spent with her and people who didn't threaten her relationship. She held him tightly and felt as though, were she prompted to do so, she could break his arm in half before he moved from her side.

Batter could feel the lump in his throat that frequently formed when Queenie was around. Her tightened grip was frightening, but comforting in a way he could not fully understand. Yes, she was forcing him to stay in place, but he wasn't sure if he even wanted to move.

However, as they turned the corner to the school lobby, he felt differently; uncomfortable and angry, “Hello Kitty, why do you wear that stupid ass mask?” Tim’s voice rang out clearly and obnoxiously, followed by a chorus of throaty laughs.

“He wears it cause his face so ratchet, he can’t show it in school.”

“I heard your daddy burnt your face off before he walked out on you and your skank-ass mom.”

The boys surrounded the school store booth where Zacharie was sitting, making it so that Batter couldn't see much past them. He looked around briefly, wondering if anyone was going to step in and stop them.

Memories of when Batter had done the same thing to other kids rang in his head. Pushing them up against lockers, calling them names, even a few swirlies came to mind... He asked himself why this was any different, seeing as those situations never ended with anyone helping the victim. Yet, he knew the reason why this upset him so thoroughly.

And that reason was in the process of being dragged out from behind the booth. Batter watched in petrification, thinking this was something similar to a car accident. It was horrible, but he couldn't move; couldn't speak or do anything to stop it.

Queenie’s hand reached up and turned Batter’s face away from the scene. He looked at her, but he still felt like he was staring at his friends. Were they really his friends? No. No, he couldn't call them that.

“Batter, stop looking at them. It doesn't matter.” Queenie spoke with a warning in her voice, but the longer she looked at him, the harder she thought. What was threatening her? Zacharie, no doubt, but what about him...? The fact that he was in danger?

Queenie removed her hand and turned on her heel towards the fight, “Hey!” She shouted and the boys turned their attention to her. Tim was holding Zacharie up by his shirt, but dropped him quickly, turning to Queenie with a sly grin, “Whatever it is you’re doing, stop it.”

Tim’s smile widened as he caught sight of Batter in the background, “What? Batter’s too scared to come and talk for himself?”

Queenie took a deep breath, swallowing the rage inside of her. She smiled back at him, her anger manifesting in her eyes, “Listen to me very clearly. I don’t like you and I don’t like the freak either. Actually, I hate him.” She glanced at Zacharie for a moment, hoping he would remember her words, then looked back to Tim, “But, if you upset Batter in any way, i’ll make sure you regret it.”

Tim stared at Queenie for a moment, shocked. He looked to his two friends in disbelief. Sweet little Queenie couldn't actually be that menacing? He then settled his attention back on Queenie, leaned forward, and laughed as loudly as he could to cover his uneasiness.

Though his friends only had a short chance to laugh along, as Queenie sunk the tip of her heel into Tim’s crotch. He shouted out and fell to his knees next to Zacharie, “You crazy-!” He tried to curse, but the breath had been knocked out of him.

Batter rushed up at this point, finally finding the will to move, “Why did you do that?!” He questioned in shock, but Queenie ignored him, instead looking down on Tim with an unreasonable amount of anger.

“That’s just the start if you continue to fuck with me.” She spoke lowly, then, surprisingly, turned her gaze to Zacharie, “Take this as a fucking warning. If you ever try to take Batter away from me, I swear I will fucking kill you!” Her voice increased in volume and instability, amounting to something of an animalistic screech.

Batter took a hold of her arm and began dragging her away from the scene. He couldn't bring himself to look at Tim or Zacharie. He couldn't do anything but run away.

Whack!

Batter swung hard, knocking another baseball up against the fence with a loud thud.

Whack!

Again and again, over and over, he swung his bat and heard the unsatisfying clatter of metal. It was better than talking, though. Better than thinking and certainly better than feeling. Though, it was nearly impossible to disconnect from his brain.

Whack!

This might have been his goal the entire time, he thought. Maybe he was sabotaging himself into isolation, making it so that anyone that cared about him was frustrated enough that they would give up and leave him alone. Zacharie, Queenie... Everyone would stop confusing him and he could just go back to being ignorant and unfeeling; back to when hitting baseballs like this was a comfort and not an excuse for inaction.

“Batter!” He heard his name, turning towards the voice that wasn't the one moping inside of his head.

To his surprise, Sugar was walking in his direction. Not so surprisingly, she looked unhappy. Well, maybe she looked a little pissed off. The closer she got, the clearer her displeasure became. Raised eyebrows, mildly pouting lips, and daggers for eyes stood out from the rest of her face, each one sending off a red flag in Batter’s mind.

“We need to talk. I know you don’t want to, but we’re going to have a goddamn talk.” Sugar stepped in front of him, taking the baseball bat from Batter’s limp grip. She tossed it to the side and crossed her arms.

“About what?” Batter asked dumbly, thinking he had to respond. Sugar rolled her eyes.

“You never have anything intelligent to say, do you? Ok, no. I didn't come to be mean or to yell at you. We’re going to have a calm, civil discussion about why you can’t seem to get your shit together.” Batter cocked his head to the side and she grew a little flustered, “Don’t think I’m your friend because I’m talking to you.”

“You and Queenie have your own relationship and it is none of my business, but when you drag Zacharie into your sadomasochism, that’s when it becomes my business. See, I care more about Zach than I will ever care about you. He means everything to me and I know he means something to you. Don’t just throw him away like sad trash because you can’t settle your own goddamn relationship problems.”

Sugar paused and took breath, “Why do you even stay with Queenie?”

That was a simple question with a highly complex answer Batter didn't understand, “I... She needs me I guess...” Batter spoke quietly and Sugar frowned, “Nobody really knows this, but she’s sick. Like, she can’t control herself. She tells me all the time that she has nobody else but me to help her.”

Batter was surprised at himself when he continued to speak, “She is a good person. I know it and I just don’t feel like I can abandon her when she relies on me. She’s my friend and...”

“And you know deep down that you love her and she loves you and for some reason you’re willing to put up with it because of that.” Sugar finished for him and he looked at her with confusion in his eyes. She shrugged, “It just sounds familiar.”

“You have a lot more in common with Zach than you think. No wonder you like him so much.” Batter looked away in embarrassment and Sugar sighed, feeling that bizarre mixture of attraction, frustration, and pity she always seemed to feel for him.

“Batter, why do you think he wears a mask?”

Chapter Text

Sugar asked the question hesitantly, clearly not wanting to share something so personal. Yet, she knew she had to tell Batter if she wanted him to understand why she was so worried for Zacharie. She was terrified that Batter was sending him straight back to that dark place she tried so hard to drag him out of.

To Sugar, he was a dangerous person, but if he had any sort of compassion and understanding, he would stop once he understood.

Batter was caught off guard by that. Honestly, he had never given any thought as to why Zacharie wore his masks. All he could remember thinking about was how frustrating it was to never see his face.

Batter had no idea as to what Zacharie’s face looked like. Before last summer, Batter would never have noticed Zacharie; unless, maybe, if him and his friends were harassing him. There was a good chance that he did bully Zacharie in the past, but, inevitably, he still couldn't remember his face. Batter wondered for a moment as to what Zacharie could have looked like. Most likely weak and insecure, if he had bullied him that is. Green eyes, maybe brown?

He opened his mouth to speak, but realized he had no answer. Sugar understood his silence and shrugged, “It’s not like anyone would really guess it, but I thought you might have a clue by now?” Sugar chuckled shortly, quietly, cynically, “Just shows how little you actually know about him.”

That hurt, but it was the truth. No matter how deeply he felt for Zacharie, nothing too deep had been shared between the two.

“There’s a reason you haven’t met Zach’s parents or seen him anywhere but my house. I've never met his parents either. I don’t know much about his mom, but his dad hurt Zach; not always physically. It was more psychological than anything else. Zacharie, regardless of how bad his father was to him, he always... He liked to blame himself for it.” Sugar took a short pause. She ached just thinking about the pain Zacharie went through.

“He self-harmed for a while. Soon enough his whole body was covered in scars, I just... It was really bad. Summer came along this year and his mother finally got the courage to do something about it. She called the police and Zach’s dad got taken away. That was sort of a tipping point for him, he felt so much guilt... He cut up his face and had to go to the hospital for it, it was that bad.”

“After that, he couldn't stay with his family anymore and I convinced my parents to let him live with us. They were never around, so they didn't care one way or the other. It was really tough watching him go through that.” She placed a hand over her face and sighed in a way that registered with Batter. This was all real. She wasn't making this up, “I tried my best to get him to a better state of mind, and I suggested the masks. We made them together as a way of keeping his mind off of the bad stuff; kinda like therapy, you know?”

Sugar moved her arms so that they were now crossed and gave Batter almost a pleading look, if that was something Sugar could ever bring herself to do, “So, do you understand now? Why i’m so worried for him? Why i’m so worried about what you’ll do to him; what he’ll let you do?” Sugar continued to look at Batter for any sign of emotion or comprehension, “I know you can be unbelievably dense, but you have to understand this much. Just show me that you care-”

Sugar stopped herself when she noticed tears starting to brim along Batter’s eyes. He quickly turned away, not wanting her to see how devastated he was. It had never crossed Batter’s mind that the masks covered something so sad.

Batter felt the same anger boil up within him that he seemed to always feel when Zacharie was threatened, but amplified and more painful than any time before. This time, the damage was already done. Zacharie’s father... It struck him that Sugar thought he was the same as that man. In a way, maybe he was? It scared him to think about it.

That fear showed clearly on his face. Sugar thought that it was somehow refreshing to see Batter so upset about something, even if she’d felt that same pain herself many times before. Sugar found that empathetic ache clench up her chest, sending her forward towards Batter as he tried hard to blink back his tears.

Sugar took a hold of his hand and Batter felt a tremor shoot up his arm. The fact that affectionate contact caused him such discomfort made it that much harder to keep from sobbing. Despite the shivers she caused, Batter managed to take a hold of her hand, to both of their surprise.

Sugar looked away and managed to lower her voice, “I came here to tell you what I needed to say, but I- I see that maybe you... Maybe you don’t have it as easy as I’d thought.” She gave his hand a light squeeze, “I think you should talk to him.” Sugar thought how ironic it was that she wanted the exact opposite before.

“He should be in his room. You can call me if you need anything, ok?” Batter marveled at how differently she spoke now. How her voice carried none of the accusation it held before, but instead felt comforting. He swallowed hard and nodded slightly before Sugar left through the front door.

Batter stood there for a moment, wondering if he should talk to him; if he could talk to him if he wanted to. After knowing how much pain he’d already caused, enough to cause Sugar to confront him, could he really face him?

He turned slowly and moved up the staircase, making his way to the room he had visited quite a few times in the past. He hoped that when he reached the top and opened the door, he’d hear the same voice call out to him as he’d heard before; that he’d see the same boy, sitting on the bed, beckoning to him; that he could walk in like he belonged there, sit next to him, and hold his hand, and maybe be happy for a while.

He stood before the door now, having moved a little faster than he had intended to, and stared at the tiny fissures in the wood; anything to keep from confronting him. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he felt so grateful for an interruption. He removed it from his pocket to see Queenie’s name bright on the screen. He immediately shoved the phone back into his pocket and reminded himself that she wasn't there as he cringed instinctively. He pushed the idea of Queenie out of his mind for that moment; or at least he tried to.

He decided to knock instead of barging in, because right then he didn't feel like he belonged there. He felt like he belonged in a deep, dark cave, somewhere far away from Zacharie where he couldn't interfere in his life.

When he didn't receive a response, Batter shut his eyes tightly in discomfort and frustration. He had to say his name. He hardly felt like he could breathe, let alone talk to him, “Zach-” His voice cracked and he coughed a bit to clear his throat, “Zacharie.”

He waited again for recognition and began to grow even more anxious. Was he ignoring him? Did he not want to speak to Batter; look at him, even? He couldn't blame him either way. He looked down at his watch, not daring to look at his phone, and saw that it was nearing ten o’clock at night. Maybe he was asleep?

Batter forced himself forward, opening the door gently as to not wake Zacharie if he was sleeping. He looked inside and the lights were off. Batter thought he must be in bed, but a glance to the side revealed that the bathroom light was on and the door ajar. Zacharie wasn't known to sleep with any lighting into his room.

Batter took a step inside and, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw that Zacharie’s bed was empty. He gathered that he must be in the bathroom and that he may not have heard him before. Batter knocked on the wall next to the bathroom’s entrance and called out again, “Zacharie?”

When he was met with silence for the third time, he grew suspicious. Maybe he wasn't in his room at all? Where would he be outside of his room if Sugar said he’d be there? He decided to disregard privacy for the sake of curiosity as he entered the bathroom, attempting to affirm that Zacharie wasn't in his room after all.

“Zach-” Batter spoke one more time before choking on the name as it made its way through his throat.

Chapter Text

“Hey.” Batter said simply as he strolled into Zacharie’s room, feeling a sense of ease he couldn't easily find elsewhere. He sat down on the bed next to Zacharie and folded his hands over his stomach. His hat tilted downward as he leaned back against the wall, keeping the minimal light from reaching his eyes. He was tired and Zacharie had the most comfortable bed in his opinion.

It took him awhile to notice that Zacharie didn't greet him when he entered the room. He hadn't noticed how his usually rather active friend had been sitting, motionless, on his bed. When these things registered in his head, he mustered the energy to call out, “What’s up?”

Silence. Batter now sat up and pushed his hat back into an unobtrusive position. He looked to Zacharie, who sat in an unusually straight manner, his hands folded on his lap. Batter leaned forward, as if he could get a good look at Zacharie’s face and gauge what the problem was.

It took what felt like ages for Zacharie to speak. When he did, it came out as a whisper, “Do you like me?”

Batter could hardly hear him, but he had an idea of what was just said. Regardless, he didn't want to hear it. He asked Zacharie to repeat himself and, without missing a beat, Zacharie turned his face to Batter and spoke clearly, “Batter, do you like me?”

Batter was nervous, he grasped at any chance he could take to get out of this, “Of course I like you.” He looked away from the mask and shrugged, “I don’t get why you gotta ask-”

“You know what I mean.” Zacharie’s sharp words cut through the diversion. Batter swallowed and looked to the mask before turning his entire body away from Zacharie. He didn't want the signs of his obvious embarrassment to be noticed; the shaking, the rigidness, and the blood rushing to his face.

He couldn't respond. He could hardly digest the question. Batter could feel Zacharie’s expectant gaze on his back and the idea of even considering such a question was overwhelming him. What even prompted this?

That wasn't a difficult question to answer; it was obvious what had brought this on. The times Zacharie had caught Batter staring at him, the times Zacharie stretched his legs out over Batter’s lap in the midst of a movie, the times Zacharie’s face had gotten just a little too close to Batter’s and Batter could feel the same sensations of fear and arousal he was feeling now.

No; the question wasn't why he was questioned, but rather how he was going to answer. Did Batter like Zacharie? If the color of his cheeks and the lack of an immediate ‘no’ were any indication…

“Because I know that I… I feel something more than that.” Zacharie continued to speak clearly, but also maintained the hushed tone from before.

Batter was never a person of many words, though he was hardly a person of action either. So it was surprising to both of them when he leaned over and took a hold of Zacharie’s mask. A jolt of terror rushed through Zacharie’s body and he instinctively tried to pull away. Zacharie was certain that, if Batter saw what was under his mask, he would never have his feelings reciprocated.

Instead of that fear being realized, Batter only moved Zacharie’s mask up enough to reveal his mouth. Nothing more, and Zacharie was grateful for this much. He could now focus on being terrified by Batter’s purpose.

It was nothing extraordinary when they kissed. In fact, it was a bit awkward because of the mask, but Batter leaned forward regardless and pressed his lips against Zacharie’s. It was quick, as both of them were embarrassed by the act itself, and Batter didn't notice the scar that reached up and over Zacharie’s lips. He didn't dare to do anything more or over-analyze what he did; he would probably explode upon thinking about it.

In his typical stunted fashion, he opted to instead stand up and leave the room. He quickly shuffled to the door, ready to leave, until that confused voice stopped him, “Wait… I-I don’t understand?”

Batter’s body shook, fighting the unrelenting need to escape, and he spoke in a single breath, “I feel the same way.” Before giving into impulse and accidentally slamming the door behind him.

Batter stopped mid-sentence out of shock as the room spontaneously lit up. He clutched the frame of the bathroom door to steady himself, feeling a cold sweat break out across his body. The awkwardness of being caught invading someone’s privacy filled the room, and he turned slowly to face who he knew was already there.

Zacharie stood there as Batter expected. He was standing in the doorway, wearing a t-shirt and boxers like he was ready to sleep. Nothing was out of the usual, except for the look of complete horror on Zacharie’s face.

Batter stared wordlessly, feeling more guilt than surprise as he realized the situation he had stumbled into. Zacharie hit the lights just as quickly as he had turned them on and shouted, “What the hell are you doing here?!”

The sudden loss of light was disorienting, but Batter still felt like he was staring at Zacharie’s face. He wanted to erase the image from his mind; he had made a huge mistake. He wasn't supposed to see Zacharie’s face for the first time like this.

“I-I was looking for you; I wanted to talk to y-” Batter started to fumble out words; he was so embarrassed, he could feel his legs shaking. However, he hardly had a chance to speak before he was cut off.

“Get out!” Zacharie moved to the darkest corner of the room, a hand in front of his face as if Batter could still see in the darkness. He could feel tears brimming at his eyes; an embarrassment he couldn't fathom was clutching at his lungs.

Batter immediately started for the door, his trembling legs reluctantly obeying Zacharie’s command. This couldn't have gone any worse. He reached the door frame when suddenly, his legs refused to move.

He couldn't go further after a hiccup sounded from the corner.

The word’s continued to repeat in his mind. Get out! Get out! Batter wanted to listen; he wanted to get the hell out of this situation, but the light sobbing noises sounding behind him told him something else. They were pleading with him. Each gasp was begging him to do something; begging him to fix the mess he created. For once, that plea was audible enough to stop him.

For once, he would act. He’d be brave like he was that day he kissed Zacharie; like when he broke Tim’s nose; like when he apologized to Sugar...

He turned around and headed directly for the crying boy across the room. For a moment, the sounds stopped and were replaced with a warning, “No, wait! Go away! Go-” Zacharie spoke out loudly, hitting away at Batter’s hand as he felt it grip his own. He stopped speaking out of shock when his body was jerked forward.

This time, when Batter moved his lips to Zacharie’s, he could feel the scar that stretched over the shorter boy’s mouth. It was a cold reminder of why this was so important. Batter had to commit to something; and for now he chose Zacharie.

Batter opened his now adjusted eyes and looked down at the face before him. He couldn't make out much detail, but he could distinguish the large eyes that looked up to him in confusion and fear. How they peeked out from underneath messy hair and questioned.

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

Batter pulled back, surprised that he had an answer to someone’s question for once. He took a hold of Zacharie’s other hand now and leaned forward again in a less desperate kiss. He moved his lips almost lazily against the other boy’s mouth.

“I love you. I don’t like you; that’s bullshit. I love you.” Batter sighed the confession without stopping his movement, speaking the words into Zacharie’s mouth. It was a relief to kiss Zacharie like this. It wasn't something he wanted to rush, “I love you.”

Zacharie shut his eyes tightly before pushing Batter’s body away from him. He felt the blood return to his lips and disliked the sensation.

Batter still hung closely over Zacharie’s body, but a gap had been created. Zacharie looked up; his face as flushed as Batter’s if he could see it clearly. The darkness gave him a confidence boost, but it wasn't enough to maintain eye contact. He looked away and inhaled for the first time in the past minute, a dizzy feeling assuring him of such, “D-Don’t say this to me if you don’t mean it. You don’t need to make anything up to me just-”

“Do you still love me?” Zacharie was shocked to hear that question; more shocked than he was by Batter’s confession. There was a distinct flutter in his stomach that made him feel like he would vomit; or pass out at least.

He looked back up at Batter’s face, each second passing making his visage clearer and clearer. He could almost see the freckles, the thin lips, the deep blush, the movement as he shook in the aftermath of the kiss. Underneath the nauseous fear, he almost wanted to laugh.

It took a moment for Zacharie to realize he actually was laughing. It wasn't long until he was near hysterics, “Are you kidding me? Are you that dense?” He sputtered as Batter tilted his head in confusion.

He leaned up and wrapped his arms around Batter’s neck, pulling his face down to his with urgency, affirming that the answer to Batter’s question was a yes.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Sam.” Batter announced his presence, walking up to Sam in the hallway with confidence, “Have you seen Queenie today? I need to talk to her.” Sam turned to face Batter, but instead of meeting that familiar ambivalent smirk, Batter was faced with an unusual expression of concern.

“Oh, hey Bat. No, I haven’t seen her around… She’s usually with you, right?” Sam gripped the strap to his backpack and looked away.

Batter wasn’t oblivious to the fact that something was wrong with Sam; ever since elementary school, Sam Japhet always had a very specific way of acting. He was aloof, likely to joke but not easily moved to any sort of passion. Not to the extent of Batter, but to the point where you could guess where he adopted it from. Concern wasn’t an emotion either of them were quick to express.

Yet, Batter still went to turn away, until Sam’s voice picked up again, “You know she’s really worried about you. You just seem kind of off lately, I don’t know… We’re all kind of worried about you, man.” Batter turned back to Sam, stuck in place by his words, “I know Tim gets like that, but I… You know what, don’t worry about it. Uh, see you around I guess.”

Silence filled in for the stunted speech as Sam walked forward and past Batter. An ache settled into the bottom of Batter’s gut as he began to register what this meant; what leaving Queenie would mean. For the first time, he felt a sense of mourning. Not the trepidation and fear he had felt the past few months, but a feeling of grief and respect for a chapter about to end.

Queenie sat before her vanity, the overly bright lights and magnified mirrors showing every one of the imperfections on her face. She leaned forward, as if to gain an even closer view, and gripped her cheeks. She pulled them away from the skull and released them when they would move no further. She watched as the blood rushed back to where her skin had been pinched, filling in the finger prints with a blotchy red.

She questioned in her mind many things; all of which had to do with Batter. Why hadn’t he called her in days? Why wouldn’t he check up on her, see if she was taking care of herself and if she needed him? Wouldn’t any decent boyfriend care if their girlfriend was falling apart? The bags that were forming under her eyes were obvious indicators of the stress and lack of sleep. She was jumpy, didn’t he notice that? Didn’t he notice how closely she held onto him the last time they said goodbye? Didn’t he notice that she’d never said ‘goodbye’ before?

Queenie looked to the bottle of pills to her right. She’d planned to down the bottle and end the mess. She dreamed of how guilty Batter would feel; how he wouldn’t be able to live with himself for treating her so badly if she was gone. She fantasized about a dual-funeral. The young lovers, choosing suicide to forever be together. She could see two caskets being lowered into the ground, everyone celebrating them, remembering them for the rest of their lives.

It would be easy too. She wouldn’t need to do anything messy. She could still look beautiful after taking pills, hell, she could primp for the occasion. She could down the bottle, lay on the bed with her hands folded over her heart like a fairytale princess. It was all very romantic in her mind.

Yet, a part of her yearned for something a bit different. She wouldn’t die pretty this way, but it made her heart race just imagining it. She’d knock on his door and, when he answered, ask to speak with him. He’d say yes of course. He was always a pushover when he actually had to face her.

They’d go up to his room, his mom would still be at work, and she’d ask him to sit. Of course, he would comply. She’d ask him the questions that were burning through her brain. He’d give a lame answer, he never had a way with words, and then she’d strike. She’d ask him to close his eyes and he would do so, of course. She’d pick up his baseball bat from the corner where he always rested it and…

It was too strange, the excitement she felt from thinking about it. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she imagined him pleading with her; there would be emotion in his voice then. His shouting mixed with the sounds of battery; cracks and snaps and gore. It was a fantasy that she considered.

She couldn’t do that though. She couldn’t take the pills either. She continued to stare at herself in the mirror and play with her cheeks. Bringing herself to act was something she couldn’t muster at the moment, but she kept those ideas in mind. She felt weak with her inaction; it reminded her of Batter.

Her cellphone buzzed on the vanity, interrupting her thoughts. She was happy for a distraction, but it turned out to be more of an actualization. Batter’s name appeared on the screen, a picture of him with a small smile, Queenie’s favorite picture of him, accompanied the name and the vibrations. It felt more like a hallucination than a phone call.

She pressed the green button with a shaking thumb and moved the phone to her sore cheek, “Baby?” She questioned, the petname feeling like cotton in her mouth.

“Hey.” His voice sounded like oxygen rushing into empty lungs to her, “Listen, is there sometime we can talk? I wanted to talk to you at school, but you weren't there today.” His uncertainty sounded so comfortable to her that she was able to slip back into her confident guise.

“We’re talking now.” She felt like she was placing cheese on a mousetrap, “You should come over; I have some stuff I want to ask you, too.”

“Oh, yeah sure. I’ll be over in 15.”

“I love you.” Queenie spoke into the phone, knowing that she wouldn’t get a response before he hung up.

Batter lifted a fist to knock on the stately, mansion doors, but couldn’t bring himself to go through with the motion. This was the boldest thing he’d ever attempted and the nervousness curling around his gut was cold confirmation of that. She was inside and she was waiting.

She never had a good handle on her temper, but a small part of Batter hoped that she would understand. He would go inside and sit her down. He would be blunt about it, he wouldn’t try to cushion it for her, because there wasn’t much to cushion. He loved someone else and it wasn’t her fault. She’d be sad, but maybe she would understand that Batter couldn’t change how he felt.

A larger, more logical part of him knew that hoping for understanding was useless. She would be hurt and she would be angry; she would be dangerous. Batter stared at his fist, wondering if he should go through with it. Maybe if they didn’t talk about it, they could just drift apart?

The choice was made for him as the door opened itself. There stood Queenie holding the door open with a wide eyes. Normally, nothing would seem amiss, but for some reason, things were more clear now. Dark bags underlining her eyes, light bruising on her cheeks… She seemed tired and a little crazed. How long had she looked like that? Bags don’t form overnight.

Batter lowered his fist and mustered up a greeting, “Hey.” Anymore breath released would bring about questions. How long have you been up for? You look so thin; have you always been this thin? Can I take you to a doctor?

The usual brightness to her face was replaced with a distinct shadow; her eyes darker, her hair brassy, her breathing shallow. She opened her mouth and the almost forced happiness to her voice was now fingers desperately dug into dirt, the rest of her hanging off a ledge, “Hey! Were you gonna stand there all day or…?” She backed up a bit, allowing for him to enter the house. His feet dragged, animal instinct begging him not to walk into the cage.

She spun around and started up the stairs and Batter followed. She went into her room and Batter followed. She shut the door and Batter sat on the bed, “So what did you wanna talk about?” She sat down next to him, hoping that nothing would seem strange. She didn’t want to look like how she felt.

This was it; if he did not tell her now he would never be able to bring himself to do it. He clenched his hands into fists and rested them on the tops of his thighs. He couldn’t look at her; no, he needed to pretend she wasn’t even there. He needed to imagine that he was just talking into a mirror, practicing.

“Queenie,” He said her name as if he needed to garner her attention, “We need to break up.” He was surprised that he was able to say the words without stuttering or, you know, puking.

He was even more surprised by her silence. He took it as an opportunity to further explain himself, but he knew he couldn’t say anything to make it any less painful, “I’m going to start dating Zacharie. I-I’m really sorry. It’s not your fault...”

The silence compounded on itself, weighing down on him like bricks and he couldn’t seem to turn and look at her under the weight. He suddenly felt ice cold fingertips rest on the side of his face, that applied a gentle pressure, turning his head to face her.

She wasn’t crying; in fact, she looked calm, happy. Her lips were stretched into a wide smile, the chapped skin breaking and Batter could swear he could hear it. Her eyes were gentle now, dark still, but serene. She opened her mouth again and the words were sticky.

“Let me get you a drink.”

Chapter Text

“Honestly, Queenie, I never expected you to be so calm about this I… I guess I didn’t give you enough credit.” Batter admitted, finally looking up from his third near-empty glass. Her face still looked the same; glad and in control. At first this was frightening, a sign she’d snapped. However, after he had agreed to the drink, she had just as smoothly left and brought back two glasses. They both drank what appeared to be orange juice and vodka, screwdrivers were nothing new, as Batter divulged what had happened over the school year so far; how he first met Sugar and Zacharie, how he began to drift away from his old life, from her, and so on.

He was understandably shocked by how well she handled the information. Once he was comfortable, whether this was from her attitude or the alcohol he wasn’t sure, he spared no detail. Even as Batter told of how his love for Zacharie grew, and continued to grow, Queenie’s behavior remained static.

A sort of light heartedness settled in as he spoke. Batter never felt like he could talk about these feelings. The part of him that loved Queenie was excited that he could confide in her and that things seemed to be ending on a good note.

However, the part of him that knew Queenie knew better than that. Any normal person that had to hear this after a breakup would be furious and hurt, so why wasn’t Queenie expressing anything beyond complacency? He tried to ignore these thoughts; Queenie was sick, but she wasn’t a nutcase. Perhaps he truly wasn’t giving her enough credit.

At this point, Queenie held the bottle of vodka in her lap, ready to supply another refill upon Batter’s next sip. She’d moved him onto shot glasses, entirely bypassing the orange juice in favor of him getting more easily intoxicated. She watched him carefully, having been ignoring his words for a while; it wasn’t what he was saying that she cared about, but rather what he sounded like, what he moved like. Was his tone getting looser? Was he smiling more than usual?

Batter returned the glass to his lips and Queenie returned the spout to the shot promptly after, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Batter asked with a noticeable slur and Queenie quickly felt bile crawl up her throat. The more he spoke, the angrier she grew, but a question like that? It was as if he smashed his glass over her head then asked her the same thing.

Queenie poured some vodka into her own glass for the first time in a while and raised it, “Let’s toast to it.” She spoke grandly and Batter raised his as well, clicking the shots together then knocking back his portion. Queenie didn’t even bother to touch the rim to her lips, instead pouring the contents into Batter’s wobbling glass. It took only moments for him to droop over onto the bed and Queenie watched with a particular rush as his eyelids fluttered in his semi-conscious state.

“Batter?” She questioned without an ounce of genuine concern in her voice, “Batter, why did you stop talking, huh? I really wanted to hear more about your fucking relationship really keep telling me more.” She asked sarcastically as she pulled her shirt over the top of her head, “You are so goddamn stupid.” She tossed it aside before straddling Batter’s waist, gripping his shirt and tearing it upwards and off the bed.

She looked down on him, her bitterness growing as she looked over his body. She felt a certain disconnect at how this used to be a happy sight, but now it was as if she was looking down on a large slab of meat; one of those bisections of a cow you see hanging in a butcher’s shop.

Queenie removed her phone and leaned down, aiming the camera at herself and Batter and taking the first picture; her lips planted emotionlessly on his own.

Chapter Text

    It was noon the next day when Batter finally awoke from his drunken sleep. He opened his eyes unwillingly, as no natural light told his body that it was indeed daytime. He sat up and a headache racked his brain. He sat there for a moment, attempting to figure out what happened that give him such a hangover.

    Looking around, he saw the inside of a room he was all too familiar with, but there was something different about it. Queenie never spent much time in her room, so it always looked tidy and unused. This room was well worked over; even the curtains that blocked out the afternoon sunlight were wrinkled. Batter was used to the smell of honey and flowers he didn’t know the name of whenever he was in Queenie’s room. Instead, the scent of old fruit juice and spilt alcohol filled the air. It was Queenie’s room, but it had none of the pretense that would indicate it to be so. 

    Lastly, as he stood up, he noticed that he had no clothes on. This wasn’t entirely unusual seeing as he was in Queenie’s room, but he quickly remembered why that would be wrong now. A heat rushed to his face and a quick nausea accompanied his headache. He hadn’t entered his relationship with Zacharie more than a day ago and he had already cheated? He shook his head quickly and chastised himself as he began to search for his clothes.

    He went around the room, growing more and more confused at the amount of debris that would normally never be left around. Batter thought to ask Queenie for help, turning back to the bed, but promptly noticing she wasn’t there. The situation grew stranger by the minute, as he found his clothes neatly piled where Queenie’s body would have been. Yet, Batter thought it best to pretend that this wasn’t as weird as he knew it was. His hangover and his guilt urged him to simply get dressed, leave, and forget it ever happened. He left Queenie’s house with that intention exactly.

    Getting into his car, spotty memories from the night before filtered back into his mind. With every turn on his way to practice he remembered another confession, another drink. These memories reassured him of what he already figured had happened. He’d gone over to break up just as he planned, then he got drunk and they had sex. It was stupid on his part, but what was done was done. 

    He was entirely unexcited to practice with this hangover, but he wouldn’t miss practice if he’d lost a leg let alone had a headache. He hobbled out of the car with his equipment and towards the field, only to be nearly knocked off his feet by Will Enoch. 

    “Bro, you look like you got hit by a truck. I guess last night was as crazy as I’ve heard.” Will grinned from ear to ear and elbowed Batter in the side. Everything about Will was like fingernails on a chalkboard at the moment.

    Batter failed to even pick up on the boy’s meaning as he straightened up. At 6’2”, Batter towered over the freshman. If Batter didn’t feel like an axe was working its way through his head, the other boy would hardly had seemed like such a nuisance. It was usual for kids in Batter’s own grade to idolize him, let alone the underclassmen. 

    “What about last night?” Batter asked, as his own recollection was shoddy at best. Had more people been at Queenie’s than just the two of them? That would explain the condition the room was in.

    “You know what I’m talking about!” Will elbowed Batter again, causing Batter to take a step away, “Everyone has those pictures, man.” 

    “Pictures?” Batter replied absentmindedly, his desire for sunglasses outweighing his curiosity. Will took his phone out and tapped away at the screen, laughing quietly to himself as he pulled up the text and handed the phone to Batter.

    Even through his hangover, it didn’t take more than a second for Batter to recognize the nature of the pictures. The first was a slightly blurry picture of Queenie kissing Batter’s lips. This would be fairly innocuous were they both not nude. Batter flicked through only two more pictures before he handed back the phone and walked forward, “Hey!” Will shouted after him, but Batter didn’t stop until he reached the diamond. 

    He pulled out his bat, ready to swing as soon as the pitcher threw the ball, but the pitcher didn’t throw. Batter stood there, tense, as he noticed everyone at the practice was staring at him. They whispered to each other, glanced, then whispered again. Batter felt like he could hear them.

    Did you see those pictures?

    Batter’s nudes, Batter’s nudes!

    Everyone has those pictures, man.

    Everyone has those pictures, man.

    Everyone has those pictures, man.

    Batter felt an embarrassment and an anger swell inside of him that was wholly new to him, “Pitch the fucking ball!” He screamed and everyone collectively showed shock, as that was the loudest Batter had ever spoken, not to mention the rage in his voice.

    Batter stood there, feeling as though the world was closing in on him. The nausea from before came back strongly, causing him to lean forward and vomit on home plate. He hardly felt Sam Japhet grab him by the arm and drag him away, everyone’s eyes still on them.

Chapter Text

“Are you done throwing up yet?” Sam’s voice echoed off the walls of the boys’ locker room. Batter clutched the rim of the toilet, emptying all his stomach had to offer. The sound of a particularly strained wretch answered Sam’s question.

Batter’s eyes and throat stung as he leaned against the toilet, wincing at the taste that lingered in his mouth. His heart raced at the idea of leaving the safety of the bathroom stall, the thought of facing anyone again. His mind went to Zacharie, to the betrayal he would feel. No doubt, he would leave Batter and Sugar would follow. He’d be left with no one.

However, it felt as though, as long as he stayed in this stall, none of the consequences could catch up to him quite yet. He wouldn’t have to face Queenie, Sam, oh God, his mother? He couldn’t breathe and he clutched the toilet bowl as another wave of throw up forced itself out.

Sam leaned against the stall door and took in a breath, finding himself getting a bit nauseous from the sounds, “You know, I guess it could be worse? Like you could say they’re old pictures; its not like it was a secret that you and Queenie were together.” He clenched his fists, “Maybe... that Zacharie kid won’t be too mad, you know?”

Batter shuddered at the mere mention of Zacharie’s name. He was prepared to vomit again, but he had nothing left to expel. The motions made his eyes water, but they weren’t the only reason that tears were running down the sides of Batter’s face. He realized that Sam was trying to comfort him; comfort was more than he ever expected to receive.

Sam was shocked by the vulnerability of Batter’s voice, “You think so?” He’d never heard Batter sound so weak, so scared. Hell, he’d hardly ever heard genuine emotion in his voice before, let alone something as fragile as fear.

Sam leaned forward, coughing lightly to clear his throat as a small blush spread across his face. Sam knew it couldn’t be helped; anyone would be mortified in Batter’s situation, “Yeah, I mean, Queenie’s hot so its no surprise you’ve hit that. I bet he knows that at least, so I don’t think he’d be seriously jealous.” Sam waited to hear a response, or more vomiting, but neither came, “You know, all the chicks think you’re hot, so I doubt they’re complaining. And the dudes are either jealous or don’t care, I mean, it’ll be old news in a week or two-”

“I’m not worried about them...”

Sam stopped talking and looked over his shoulder, as if he could see Batter through the door of the stall, “Yeah?”

“What am I gonna do if they don’t let me play anymore?” Batter asked and the despair in his voice carried well. Sam hesitated at the question, not having considered that to have been Queenie’s goal. It would certainly be enough to crush Batter. Sam lived an average life; he never wondered what he’d do if something like this happened.

He cleared his throat again, “Then you transfer to a different school... Not everywhere’s as strict as Purity.” He reconsidered his answer, knowing that it wasn't a reasonable option to leave halfway through senior year, “Or you stop baseball here and pick it back up in college.” Sam reconsidered again, knowing that was an even more unreasonable thing to ask of Batter.

Sam looked down at his hands, “I-I don’t know dude, this isn’t exactly something I deal with on a day-to-day basis-”

“Sam?”

Again, Sam looked over his shoulder, but this time he could imagine the look on Batter’s face, “Yeah, dude?”

“Why are you being… Why’d you help me out there?” The question was full of apprehension and Sam actually felt a bit hurt, but he understood where Batter was coming from. They hadn’t talked in who knows how long.

“Well, I dunno. You may have gone off on your own for a while but its not like you aren’t my friend.” Sam shrugged and turned fully around to face the stall, “I couldn’t just watch you empty your gut on home plate. You looked pretty lame.”

“Shut up.”

Sam cracked a smile, finding the change in tone to be reassuring, “Yeah, no matter how lame you looked, you’ll never beat when I pissed my pants at our game with Judge Elementary. In what, 6th grade? I swear, the whole audience was laughing. I cried like a fucking baby.” They both shared a short laugh and Sam smiled, knowing that Batter could at least do that much.

“Thanks.”

Sam’s smile fell and his heart stopped for a moment, then rapidly picked up where it left off. He turned away from the stall, as if this time Batter was imagining the look on his face. He rubbed his hands together and looked over his shoulder briefly, “No problem, Bat.”

Silence fell for a few seconds before Batter’s voice sounded once more, “Sam?”

Sam was nervous to speak again, but kept his cool. The last thing he wanted was for Batter to know he was getting worked up over a thank you, “Mhm?”

“Can you toss me a towel?”

It took no comment in order for Sam to grab a towel from his duffel bag and throw it over the door. He heard the sounds of a slight groan and the flushing of the toilet before he moved away from the stall.

The door finally opened and Batter stood there, noticeably fatigued. Sam looked him over and he looked nothing short of a mess. His uniform was stained despite the attempts to wipe off the puke, he was shaking slightly, and his eyes were puffy from crying (a detail Sam attempted to ignore for Batter’s sake).

Batter looked away, “Yeah, I look gross.” He tossed the dirty towel to Sam who caught it on instinct, and immediately regretted it. Batter walked past Sam and threw a sly smile over his shoulder, “Sam, if Zach breaks up with me, please go out with me.”

Sam’s face burned up instantly and he threw the towel at Batter, who ran quickly to evade it, “Shut the fuck up!” Sam shouted after Batter as he closed the locker room doors swiftly behind him. Letting out a laugh to himself, Batter gripped the door handle.

He leaned forward and rested his head against the door, closing his eyes and taking a second to pull himself together. He backed away and took a deep breath, holding onto the air in his lungs for as long as he could stand. For the first time in a while, Batter saw a light in the darkness that shrouded his mind. He’d live through this.

He jogged back to the baseball field, knowing that they’d be packing up already. The team stared at him, as he expected they would. He didn’t find they’re gazes judgmental anymore, as he recognized the worry on their faces. Will was the first to break from the rest and he rushed up to Batter, “Are you okay?”

Batter smiled earnestly, which was enough to shock anyone, let alone Will who admired Batter as much as he did, “Yeah, I just got sick is all.” Batter ran a hand through his hair and continued to smile, though it felt unusual on his face. However, the stars in Will’s eyes were enough to encourage him, “But hey, I gotta ask you something.”

Chapter Text

   “So, how’d it go?” Sugar flopped down on Zacharie’s bed. She was curious, but she already knew it could only have ended in one of two ways; either Zacharie was smart enough to drop Batter like the bad habit he was or he forgave him. Though she had a better understanding of Batter now, she still didn’t like the idea of those two being friends. Batter, regardless of his reasons, was still too erratic for Zacharie.

    Though, despite Batter’s track record of fucking things up, Zacharie seemed surprisingly calm. She assumed things went well, compared to how Zacharie had reacted to their last confrontation. He didn’t turn around, instead keeping his attention on the computer in front of him, “What do you mean?”

    Sugar raised her eyebrow; that had piqued her interest. Making up wouldn’t be something he’d hide, “I mean Batter apologized for ignoring you, right?” Sugar sat up, clutching a pillow to her body. An idea popped up in her brain and she scowled, “Did he not end up talking to you last night?”

    “No, he did… He didn’t apologize to me or anything though.” Sugar’s grimace remained on her face; of course he hadn’t.

    “How could he not apologize? You don’t even sound mad either. He’s so predictable, I should have seen this coming!” Sugar’s voice raised, but she still received no reaction, “What did he say then?”

    Zacharie didn’t respond, prompting Sugar to get up and toss the pillow aside, “He didn’t say sorry, yet you’re being quiet and don’t seem to give a shit! What could he have possibly done that made his class-A douche performance okay?!” She marched up to him, leaning forward in front of the screen to look at his face.

    Her eyes widened, as she wasn’t expecting his face to be contorted in embarrassment. Putting two and two together, Sugar leaned back, “Holy shit. Did what I think happened happen?!” Zacharie’s face grew a darker shade of red and he averted his eyes.

    That was a confession if she’d ever seen one, “Oh my God, so he actually admitted he liked you?!” She practically gasped, causing Zacharie to raise his hands up to cover his expression.

    “He said he loved me!” Zacharie tightened his hands to his face and Sugar felt an equal level of embarrassment.

    “Love?! I didn’t know he was capable of feeling emotion, let alone love!” She leaned forward again, curious and mildly horrified, “Did you guys do it?”

    Zacharied slapped his hands down on his desk, looking to Sugar with a frantic expression of disbelief, “NO.”

    Sugar leaned back and cracked a smile, “Come on, the sexual tension between you guys is off the charts at this point; can you blame me?” She quickly dodged one of Zacharie’s punches and moved away, “I can’t believe it! So he broke up with Queenie, right?”

    Zacharie’s blush started to fade and he took on a hopeless look, “Yeah, well, not yet. He said he was going to do it at school yesterday, but I haven’t heard from him since.”

    Sugar leaned against the desk, “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna be his side hoe.”

    Zacharie grinned, “No promises.” Turning away, he let out a sigh, an attempt to calm himself, “Who confesses to someone like that then doesn’t talk to them for days after?”

    Sugar slapped her hands together in a praying fashion, looking up to ceiling with her eyes closed, “Finally! Some healthy aggravation! I swear he’s rubbing his shit for brains off on you.” She peeked down at Zacharie, “I could never date someone like that. I don’t even know how we’re friends.”

    “Speaking of which; you’re not jealous, right?”

    Sugar whipped her head in his direction, dropping her hands and looking at him with the greatest face of disbelief she could portray, “Huh?” She’d never made any indication that she secretly liked Zacharie as more than a friend. It was an odd time for him to be suspicious.

    Zacharie leaned back in his seat, “Don’t you like Batter?” He questioned casually and Sugar wondered how that was possible.

    Again, she squinted her eyes and gave an incredulous, “Huuuuh?” Wait, he meant Batter? Sugar began to worry that Batter had actually rubbed off some of his social constipation onto Zacharie.

    Zacharie shrugged, a sly smile spreading across his face, “I thought it was pretty obvious, but judging by your reaction, I guess I was wrong.” He looked to her with an expression that made her skin crawl.

    Sugar stared at him dumbly, “Duh? I literally never have anything nice to say about him, so I don’t get where this is coming from?” She was still shocked, “I pretty much hate him?”

    “You said that like a question though! You just said you were his friend.” Zacharie enjoyed watching the completely oblivious look on Sugar’s face. She was always so in control that it was fun to see her be so surprised. Of course, the only thing that could throw her off is her own emotions. Zacharie thought she was like Batter in that way.

    “I can hate my friends; you’re proving that right now.” She kicked Zacharie’s leg, causing his chair to slide back, “Batter’s not my type. He’s full of himself and has no consideration for others. I’m still surprised that anyone likes him, honestly.”

    Zacharie let out a muffled laugh and Sugar glared, “What now?”

    “Nothing, amiga, you just sound like a nine year old boy with a crush.” Sugar hurried to him and kicked him again, making him grip his leg and wince up at her, “It’s fine, you’ll realize he’s not as bad as you think.”

    Sugar crossed her arms and huffed, “Now that you’ve ruined the mood, I don’t really care. Just don’t let him dick around with you anymore-” She stopped at the sound of both of their phones ringing simultaneously.

    Sugar removed her phone from her pocket as Zacharie picked his up from the desk, ‘That’s pretty weird...” She mumbled, “Blocked number, too.”

    Batter waved goodbye to his teammates and exited the dugout, his gear slung over his shoulder. As of this moment, he felt like this might actually work; that he could make it through this.

    That confidence wavered, however, at the site of a thin, blonde figure by his car. Every instinct, every shred of shame told him to turn around. Common sense told him to call the police, but instead he moved forward. He felt as though his legs would give out halfway there, but he still tried.

    The closer he got, the worse she looked. He wasn’t surprised that she had been angry with him; anyone with two eyes and any compassion could tell she was ill. He loved her and he knew that much for sure, but what kind of person was he to not notice her pain? He wondered if it had been his selfishness that kept him from seeing the signs. Even now, she looked like a desperate animal, riddled by disease and starvation; ready to tear him apart, but not of her own free will.

    Dropping his gear, his pace quickened. He became more certain of what he was doing and the look on her face twisted from hate to fear, “You look sure of yourself! I wouldn’t be, seeing as your life is over, but whatever suits you…” Her rickety speech tapered off as the fear in her eyes grew. Was he going to hit her? She wouldn’t put it past him at this point; he was a weakling, but everyone has their tipping point.

    As the space between them shrunk, she braced herself, but didn’t close her eyes. Subconsciously, that was the only way that she could manage to show her feelings plainly. Batter acknowledged the abyss in each pupil, refusing to slow his stride.

    He wrapped his arms around her in the tightest embrace he could manage, hoping this wouldn’t break her weak frame. Gripping her arms, he pulled her close, burrowing his face into the crook of her neck. He hoped, prayed even, that through this act, she could feel his apology, his sorrow, and his regret. Maybe then he could take away some of the pain that was eating away at her.

    With stunned hesitance, Queenie reached her hands up. She did this slowly, like his shirt might come to life and snap her fingers off. She rested her hands on his back and tears ran down her sallow cheeks. She let out a strained hiccup as she buried her face into his chest, allowing her misery to vent from her eyes and onto his shirt. This was the first time he’d hugged her like this.

    Pressing her mouth to his shirt, both could hardly hear her say, “I needed you. I needed you and you weren’t there.” She gripped his jersey and it felt like she was gripping the muscles beneath his skin.

    “I’m so sorry. You needed so much better than me.”

Chapter Text

Batter stared at the phone in his hands as he walked through the hallways. No one bumped into him despite his inattention; everyone was fully aware of his presence and wouldn’t dare to draw his focus in their direction. He simply stared at his phone. No one questioned his intangible authority.

No one knew why, but Batter seemed to have a stronger presence than ever. Normally, if someone’s nudes had just been leaked, they would try to blend into the background as much as possible. However, he strode with the same confidence as ever. His eyes only down turned to look at his phone screen. No sense of self-consciousness could be found within them. Though, it wasn’t unlike Batter to seem like he was above everything, even shame.

No one dared to confront him. It was almost taboo to talk about the breach in his privacy. Maybe it was because he didn’t seem to care? Again, that was nothing unusual for him. That, or it was the fact that the subject was uncomplimentary, and no one would risk offending him. Regardless, thanks to the baseball team’s disapproval, the spread of the images had nearly stopped.

In Batter’s microcosm, he had no concern for the eyes around him nor the consequences that could have been. All he could think about was whether to answer the phone or not. He’d ignored it twice already. Yesterday, he refused to read the series of texts that kept popping up brightly on the screen. Batter felt worry, but only over the person whose name could be read on the screen before him.

He’d faced each problem as it came; he’d talked to his team, his friend, and Queenie… The one person he couldn’t talk to was Zacharie. Well, Sugar as well, but he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to face her. Batter’s mind spiraled as he thought of how hurt Zacharie would be. Batter had no doubt that he’d seen the pictures; what else would prompt all of these messages? He would undoubtedly feel betrayed and would leave Batter. Batter wouldn’t blame him, but he wanted to postpone that pain for as long as possible.

For the first time that morning, Batter turned his eyes from his phone and to the door before him. He opened it and walked to his seat, somehow even less excited than usual to be in math. He’d hoped to have a more entertaining subject that morning. At least then he might be able to distract himself. He knew he wouldn't be able to pay any attention to class with these worries on his mind. As he took his seat, he let out a low sigh.

In his usual habit, he looked out the window, finding the blank air to be more compelling than the blackboard. He could hear Ms. Elsen moving to the front of the room and beginning to scratch chalk to the tune of slopes and equations he still couldn’t fully grasp. That was usually his queue to fall asleep, but before he could close his eyes, Ms. Elsen called out his name. Though, this time it wasn’t a scolding for his daydreaming.

“Mr. Batter, Mr. Valerie needs to see you in his office.” Ms. Elsen held out a hall pass and a knot formed instantly in his stomach. Though his mind had been focused on Zacharie, he had forgotten the more pressing matter at hand.

This was it. Sam’s advice came to mind, but he figured he’d never be able to use it if he dropped dead before even reaching the principal’s office. He almost wished for a sudden heart attack or stroke. Maybe then he could postpone this suffering for a bit longer.

Batter moved quickly through the hallways, despite his attempts to go slow; he cursed his long legs. It was only a moment before he was in front of the principal’s office. Knocking on the principal’s door, the situation became more and more real.

Batter’s mind started to spiral into blackness. Every negative possibility came to mind when his knuckles tapped the wooden door. He’d be kicked off the team at best, maybe even expelled. He knew none of the local baseball teams were better than Purity’s team, should he continue to play at another school. Though, Purity’s success was mostly due to him being on the team in the first place. Regardless, he’d be lucky if another team let him join. The empty feeling of loss began to settle in. To Batter, losing baseball would be like losing a limb. Rather, he’d prefer to lose a limb.

“Come in.” Mr. Valerie’s aged voice sounded from behind the door and Batter found himself obeying despite his urge to run away. Entering the office, his eyes settled on the old man behind the metal desk, “Hello, Mr. Batter. How have you been?”

Batter wondered if Mr. Valerie even knew what had happened, seeing as he asked such a tactless question. He chalked it up to the principal’s old age, “I’ve been good, sir. Yourself?” He asked, averting his eyes. No matter how he truly felt, he was obligated to lie.

Mr. Valerie shrugged partially, as the full motion would probably hurt his shoulders, “I’ve been better. My back’s been killing me and I’m feeling a little gaseous lately.” Batter cringed slightly and the principal sighed, “Ah, what I would give to be your age again. Though, maybe not as tall… Ah, but I’m getting off topic. Take a seat.”

Batter moved forward and sat stiffly, the anticipation making his stomach turn, “What can I do for you, sir?” He asked in an attempt to move things along. He wanted this to be over quickly. Like a bandaid, he thought.

The principal folded his ghostly white hands, the wrinkles of his face concealing most emotion, “Well, I’ll be frank, because you’re a good man, Mr. Batter.” Batter questioned the validity of such a statement, “I’ve seen the pornographic pictures that have been going around.”

Batter tried his best to keep down what little was in his stomach-- he couldn’t eat anything that morning-- as he laid his hands on his lap. Of course the principal had seen the pictures. He would have been the first person Queenie sent them to. Unsure of what to say, Batter clenched his hands into fists, “I… I apologize.” It felt so measly, so insufficient in the face of this issue. An apology did little to erase the past.

There was moment of tense silence and Batter wondered how many years this stress would take off of his life. He was grateful when the principal spoke up, even if it was bad news, “Purity is a prestigious establishment and something like this shouldn’t be overlooked.” The principal rubbed his chin and the skin moved easily, “You’re looking at expulsion. Possibly suspension, but certainly no club activities or athletics for the rest of the year.”

Batter still refused to look the principal in the eye. Everything he had feared was coming to fruition and he wondered why he had been so ignorant before. This was the reality of the situation. He swallowed hard, tightening his fists to the point of pain.

“Though, considering your role in our baseball team, I’m going to give you a pass this time.”

Now, Batter looked up quickly. Mr. Valerie's words hung in the air, their impact lasting in Batter's ears. He stared at the principal with an intensity that would make anyone shudder, though Mr. Valerie was probably not with it enough to notice. Batter opened his mouth only to a small degree to ask an astonished, “What?”

Mr. Valerie took out a sticky note and began scribbling at the neon paper, “Well, it's a very delicate matter and taking into consideration your athletics… It would be for the best if we just let this slide. Now, what class are you headed to next? I’ll write you a tardy pass.”

Batter couldn’t get over his shock. He was so shocked, in fact, that he shot up straight from his seat. He looked down on the principal, still with an incomprehensible stare, “You’re letting me go because you want to keep me on the baseball team?” He asked as if it wasn’t obvious. He had to affirm it.

Was his entire indiscretion meaningless in the face of his talent? His mind flashed to all the horrible things he had done; every bespectacled, acne-ridden victims’ face, every smuggled water bottle of vodka, every prank came back with stunning clarity. How else could someone have gotten away with those things?

It had finally become clear as to why he had felt so much nothingness before now; why only this chaos could evoke any feeling from his complacent heart. A life without consequence was a life of absence. Could emotion exist without a stimulus? Could a heart be moved by nothing?

Batter clenched his fists so tightly that he might have drawn blood were his hands not so calloused. He recognized some semblance of confusion in the folds of the principal's face. He felt resentment towards the old man, as if he represented every selfish authority figure that drained him of his ability to react. He knew that wasn’t fair. Even now, he struggled to maintain any strong feeling.

Batter turned around as calmly as he could. He made his way to the door without speaking a goodbye, as he couldn’t trust his voice at that moment. This time would be different. This time, he would react.

Chapter Text

Each step Batter took felt like an impossible chore. It was as if several tons of weight were strapped to his feet; heaviness dropping to the floor with each step. Were he not so determined to move forward, he would look back at his path to see if he left indentations in the hallway tile. He was weighed by a burden he was desperate to lighten himself of. He needed to see Zacharie. He refused to continue in this suspended horror.

He vowed to confront Zacharie regardless of the consequences. He braced himself for anger; naturally, Zacharie would be angry about the incident. It wouldn’t be natural for him to not be angry. Batter wished for anger. He craved it. He wanted so badly to feel a consequence; some great divine retribution to make up for the years of leniency he had received. He figured he could always go to Sugar for that, if Zacharie couldn’t oblige.

Any consequences he had accepted in the past were arbitrary at best, abusive at worst. It was hard for him to think on his relationship with Queenie. Abuse didn’t seem like an appropriate term to him, despite the overwhelming evidence. He would look at Queenie wrong, and she would yell. He would say the wrong thing, and she would hit him. He would dare to leave her, and she would attempt to destroy his future. Objectively, there was no doubts that she treated him poorly. Yet, he could never shake his feelings of guilt. If he blamed her, he would have to blame himself. More frustratingly, he couldn’t seem to detach himself from the steady affection he held for her. He wondered if he would ever be able to move on from this way of thinking.

Batter knew it didn’t always have to be like that; that was why he hoped that one day he could move on. Zacharie was an example of progress. It was possible to meet someone that could sustain themselves; someone to complement your existence rather than survive off of it. He feared Zacharie’s reaction. He couldn’t blame Zacharie for dumping him, should it come to that. It would be a fitting punishment for Batter to meet someone like that and then lose them to the folly of his past. All the same, he couldn’t help but to hope that such a thing wouldn’t happen. It felt naive to hope.

“Hey.” A familiar brassy tone sounded behind Batter. Admittedly, he was shocked to hear anything aside from his own heavy footsteps. With this new distraction, he lost his momentum and his feet seemed to weigh hard on the floor. Almost so weighty that he couldn’t turn to see who he knew was behind him. Though, there were other reasons he could think of as to why he wouldn’t want to turn.

Tim Dedan was not the subtle type. In Batter’s moment of inaction, Tim was able to quickly close the gap between them. He was hurrying, if Batter could read Tim’s footsteps correctly. Tim was the type to run headfirst into anything. It was almost enough to make Batter feel nostalgic.

When Tim’s freckled, red face came into view, that was enough to transport Batter from the moment. He thought of long, hot summers spent playing together. There was a stream halfway between their houses that they would meet at and get up to no good. Tim would terrorize the frogs and the fish and anything else smaller than his own hand. It would be hard to crush something that was bigger. Batter would watch in apathetic silence, dragging a stick through mud.

He wondered now if his role had always been that of an observer. At least on the baseball diamond, he was an active participant; maybe that was why he liked the game so much. He remembered joining the elementary school team. Tim joined with him. Of course, Batter excelled whereas Tim was average at best, but Tim never seemed resentful of that fact. Batter couldn’t help but to wonder why. It would seem appropriate for him to throw a tantrum over it; a tantrum not unlike the one he was throwing now.

“What? Are you too good to even acknowledge my presence, now?” Tim spat, as if he’d rehearsed that line in preparation for this attack. Batter was never good with confrontation, though it was a rare thing for him to be confronted. The anger on Tim’s face tipped off Batter’s body to danger, triggering the instinct to block a punch or a kick. Yet, there seemed to be no instinct as to what to say. What could he say?

“No.” Eloquent as ever, Batter could imagine Sugar snarking back at him.

Tim was quick to respond, “Where are you going?” Batter was almost sure that Tim had rehearsed this conversation.

The answer was a scary one for Batter to think on. He’d been planning to go to Zacharie’s class. He’d texted Zacharie to meet him in the hallway. If Zacharie couldn’t make it, he was going to go in and ask for Zacharie to be excused. It seemed like a foolish idea now that he actually thought about it. Nonetheless, Batter figured he shouldn’t tell Tim the truth.

“I was going to take a leak.”

Tim eyed him suspiciously, “The bathroom’s in the other direction.”

Batter was never a skilled liar, “What do you want, Tim?” On the other hand, bluntness was always something that came naturally to him.

Tim took in a deep breath, but before he responded, he appeared to remember something. Taking a look over both of their shoulders, Tim spoke in slightly more hushed tone, “Is your girlfriend around here?”

Batter didn’t completely follow, “No?” Queenie hadn’t gone to school that day; or the day before that. In fact, nobody beside Batter had seen her since the pictures had been dispersed.

With that, Tim seemed to relax a bit, “Good.” He spoke with neutral relief before winding back his arm and punching Batter square in the chin. The impact of Tim’s fist seemed to radiate up and through Batter’s jaw. At least Batter’s instincts were right about one thing. They were pretty useless in defense against a sucker punch.

The pain wasn’t unfamiliar to him. As much as his body begged for him to lift a fist in offense, or at least a hand in defense, he couldn’t do anything. It was as if he’d been conditioned to go rigid in the face of violence. It wasn’t necessarily an advantageous reaction.

“That’s for lying to me.” Tim hissed before pushing Batter with enough force to knock him to the ground. Batter was grateful that he could at least move to brace for a fall. It was a long way down. His palms stung from the brunt of the impact. Before Batter could register anything else, Tim kicked Batter in the ribs. Judging from the immediate, radiating pain, Batter figured Tim hadn’t missed out on any strength training, “That’s for acting like you’re better than me.”

Batter rolled over to look Tim in the eye. Batter was no master of emotion. It was impossible for him to read the sharp green depths of Tim’s eyes or the lines entrenched in his forehead. Even the scowl on his face didn’t tell Batter much. If Batter had to guess what Tim was thinking, he’d be at a loss. He figured he might as well let Tim vent his anger. Batter never had words, so this was the best he could do for Tim. Letting Tim vent had always worked in the past. Though, Batter was never the target of that aggression until recently.

Instead of another kick, there was silence. Batter held eye contact with Tim, but Tim couldn’t seem to withstand it. He huffed loudly, balling his fists as if he were preparing for another punch, “What the hell happened to you?! You’d never let someone beat you up like this! You used to be so cool-!”

With that, Tim looked away. Batter could hardly provide an answer to that. He wasn’t wholly sure what had happened to himself. There was a change, he knew that much. He could chalk it up to Zacharie and Sugar. He could blame his recent revelation in the principal’s office. Though, neither seemed to fully explain that change.

“Just answer one question for me.” It was clear that this wasn’t a request.

It hurt to open his mouth, so Batter figured a short, grunted “mmh” would suffice.

Tim gritted his teeth, still refusing to look at Batter. It seemed like whatever he had to say wasn’t coming easily to him. Batter could empathize, “Do you hate me now?”

As if this interaction could get any more unpredictable, Batter thought. Until recently, Batter didn’t believe himself to be capable of an emotion as deep as hate. He thought that maybe he could love, but hate was so far on the spectrum that it seemed out of reach. Even now, it was almost a foreign concept to him. He thought back to when he was in the batting cage with Sam and Tim. How he must have been angry to have broke Tim’s nose. He thought back to when Tim was terrorizing Zacharie at the school store. Though he’d felt powerless to help, he must have resented Tim for what he was doing.

There must be some part of himself that disliked Tim. He urged that part to come forward. He wanted to feel anger and resentment. Was he not on the ground with a busted lip because of Tim? It would only be natural to hate him.

And yet, there he was with no discernable emotion aside from confusion. He was confused at Tim’s anger. He was confused as his own lack of anger. In the face of confusion, Batter figured he should ask a question.

More sternly this time, Batter asked, “What do you want, Tim?” Tim’s uncertainty was as plain as Batter’s own. The questions in their minds had answers that were out of reach.

“Hey!” Batter’s back straightened reflexively at the sound of Zacharie’s voice. The ensuing pain further cemented his distaste for his instincts. He looked back to see Zacharie jogging up to the scene. Batter noted that, at the sight of Zacharie, his body seemed to relax from its tensed state.

“What do you want?” The sound of Tim’s voice was like a snarl, an accusation. It drove Batter up to his feet.

It was a different perspective, now. He recognized that he had at least a half a foot of height on Tim and that Tim was strong, but he was stronger. Batter had never thought to use his strength to attack someone. Strength applied to sport, yes, but to protect someone… It wasn’t a familiar feeling.

Thankfully, Zacharie was quicker than the two of them. It wouldn’t do for a fight to break out in the school hallway; or, at least, for a fight in progress to escalate. He stepped out from behind Batter’s frame with his phone drawn, “I have Queenie’s number dialed.” He warned.

That was enough to make Tim hesitate. Tim kept his head up, trying not to show that such a threat would make him nervous. He spoke with contempt, “So what? She’s not even at school today.”

Zacharie shook his head, “What? Did Batter tell you that? There’s a game today. She would never miss her cheerleading.”

Tim visibly and audibly gulped. He clicked his tongue and backed away, “Whatever.” It was surprisingly succinct for him, as that was all he said before turning around and storming back to where he came from. One could imagine cartoon dust kicking up from the back of his heels. His footsteps seemed no lighter than before.

Batter was shocked on several different levels. He didn’t anticipate Zacharie showing up at all, though perhaps he should have, seeing as he asked to meet with him. If he were tasked with coming up with the most unimaginable dialog between Zacharie and Tim, he couldn’t make up what he had just heard. He knew Zacharie was smart, but to apply that intelligence to this scenario? Batter was speechless; not that silent was an unusual state for him to be in.

As Tim’s back disappeared behind the curve of the hallway, a new sense of terror arose. Batter became all too aware of the fact that Zacharie was right next to him; about 2 feet to his right, to be exact. The boy who had seen his naked pictures. The boy who he had avoided for several days now. The boy who was, technically, his boyfriend.

Any one of those facts would have been enough to make Batter blanch. All together? It made him weak at the knees. Tornado sirens rang in his ears. Violent winds whipped through his head and rattled his brain. A National Weather Service announcement flashed before his eyes in the bright red of hazard lights. It read, in bold lettering: WARNING. WARNING. YOU’RE SO FUCKED.