Chapter Text
“Touch me again, and I will cut your balls off with a pocketknife.”
Sebastian pivots at the words, spotting their origin; the new boy, surrounded by whom Sebastian tacitly refers to as the Football Mafia.
This is the first time Sebastian has ever heard the boy speak.
Sebastian stifles a laugh. Across the train of vagabond students separating Sebastian from the Mafia, stands a spectacle that no one has yet noticed.
But Sebastian has.
He watches as the new kid, whom Sebastian estimates to be a just below average height and on the scrawny side, continues to idly threaten three varsity football players.
Sebastian silently thanks his past self for skipping out on football in favor of lacrosse – a lot less douche bags to deal with.
“You little midget, you made me fail my fucking test,” the largest of the three spits, advancing and crowding the smaller boy into the corner created by the wall and a row of lockers.
People are starting to take notice, avoiding the scene as if it’s an active volcano.
“I didn’t fucking make you do anything,” the kid responds, not even flinching at the mammoth invading his personal space.
The sea of students has slowed to a trickle, and Sebastian ducks into an empty classroom. He still keeps an eye on what’s happening outside; he’s beginning to like this new kid. He wonders if he can scare them away using pure annoyance, or if –
The answer to his question fills the air, along with the sickening sound of a fist hitting flesh.
Sebastian throws open the door, launching himself out into the hall. He grabs the ring leader from behind and slams him to the ground. He turns to see the other two groupies throwing punches, obstructing the smaller boy from his view.
“Hey, assholes,” he commands, placing a heavy boot on the chest of the first kid and effectively restraining him.
Halting, the two turn. Sebastian watches as they size him up, holding back a grin as their faces grow pale.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing to my little brother?” he continues. He has no inkling as to where the lie comes from; it just flies straight off his tongue. He can tell from the look of pure trepidation on the boys’ faces that he’d hit the jackpot.
He hears a whimper from beneath him, reminiscent of the cockroach he’d tried to crush earlier.
He lifts his foot, stopping to grab a fistful of an Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt (god, what a tool) before heaving the poor bastard to his feet.
“If you or one of your meatheads ever lay a finger on my brother again, I will pummel you into next week. Capisce?” The two boys in the back miraculously transform into bobble heads, but the first boy looks mightily pissed.
“Scram!” Sebastian barks. He cackles as the two boys running off, narrowing his eyes at the one who has stayed. Baring his teeth, he steps forward.
“Come on, Carl,” one of the fleeing boys urges. Finally, Carl turns and skulks away angrily.
As soon as the boys are out of sight, Sebastian dashes over to the corner, looking down at the small and indolent form.
The boy has his legs drawn up to his chest, not quite in fetal position, and an arm thrown over his face. If Sebastian hadn’t witnessed the atrocity that had occurred moments earlier and picked out the dark drops painting the carpet, he would have thought the kid was sleeping.
“You alright, kid?” he asks. He restrains himself from moving the boys arm, quelling the urge to check the damage.
The boy’s head pops up.
“Got any weed?” the smaller boy asks.
“Not on me,” he responds, trying to hide his amusement as the boy rises, straightening his clothes and brushing himself off.
Sebastian retreats, finally assessing the whole sight of the smaller boy.
He’s short, scrawny on the verge of emaciated, with dark beetle eyes. His hair is neatly combed back, a little messy from where his hands were covering his head. A single strand has escaped, curling over his pale face like a comma.
The boy laughs, and Sebastian has to stifle a flinch as it rings across the empty hall.
“I heard that most American teenagers carry around weed, that’s a damn shame,” the boy says. He smiles, and Sebastian swears he can see all thirty-two pearly whites.
“You may wanna get that checked out,” Sebastian says. Before he knows what he’s doing, his hand is running across the boys split lip, wiping away blood. Realizing how fucking creepy he’s suddenly become, he tries to drop his hand nonchalantly. At the lack of mortification from the smaller boy, Sebastian assumes he hasn’t done anything too weird.
In fact, the smile seems a little wider
“And what happened to your accent?” Sebastian asks. When the boy was throwing around insults, Sebastian was sure he hadn’t heard anything off. Now that they are alone, Sebastian’s starting to hear a certain lilt to the boys words.
“Oh, I was just mimicking those arseholes,” the smaller boy replies. “I’m from Dublin.” Sebastian nods, as if it makes a lick of sense. He holds out his hand, watching the smaller boy scramble to his feet. Dark eyes flicker around the room.
“Well, it looks like it’s too late to get to class now.” The boy turns striding off towards the chemistry classrooms.
“Wait, are you skipping?” Sebastian asks, jogging to catch up. He watches a smile grow on the boy’s face as he turns to respond.
“Yeah. Why? Wanna come?” Sebastian pauses. He’s seen the boy during class, and he’d pegged him as the kind that wouldn’t miss a day of school if they had cancer.
“Hell yeah. I’m Sebastian, by the way.”
“That’s great. I’m Jim.”
***
Ten minutes later, the two are finally getting out of the stuffy school building and breathing some fresh air. They’re hiding out in the woods behind their school, avoiding the security guards that patrol the grounds.
Sebastian perches on a fallen log, taking out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one up. He watches bemusedly as Jim scampers up a tree, breaking out into laughter when he almost loses his footing.
Jim finally settles on a sturdy branch, and decides to swing upside down from it.
“I like you,” a jubilant voice rings out. Sebastian jumps at the close proximity of the upside-down Cheshire grin Jim is sporting.
“That’s a very good choice, my friend,” Sebastian responds, taking another drag. He looks at Jim’s arm, outstretched and expectant, before sizing him up.
“How old are you?” he asks before hesitantly placing the cigarette in between Jim’s finger. Jim inhales before he answers.
“Sixteen,” he says, breathing smoke into Sebastian’s face.
“Fuck, you’re tiny.” Jim giggles, lightly pressing the butt into the expanse of Sebastian’s tanned forearm.
“Ow! You little shit!” Sebastian pulls the cigarette back before angrily dropping it, smoldering the remains with his foot. Jim drops from his perch, somehow managing to land on his feet.
“You’re like a cat,” Sebastian muses. Jim stretches out on the ground in front of him, using his arms as a pillow.
“Why did you tell those pricks that we’re brothers?” Jim asks, looking up at the older boy. Sebastian idly puts a foot on Jim’s chest, smiling at a similar memory from earlier that day.
“I don’t know. It got those guys to stop pummeling you, didn’t it?” Jim wrinkles his nose, a gesture that Sebastian finds strangely endearing. He frowns when he notices the line of bruises blossoming from where fist met flesh. He stands.
“Come on, we’re gonna fix you up,” he says. Jim shrugs it off, maintaining his position.
“Seb, I’m fine, I’ve had worse.” Sebastian grimaces at the nickname, refusing to comment.
“Fuck, no. I’m taking care of you.” Jim finally starts to get up, smiling suggestively.
“Ooh, someone’s overprotective,” Jim coos. Sebastian stifles a groan. Whatever gets the kid up, he reminds himself.
“I have some stuff at my house, I always keep it around for my little sister,” Sebastian says. He starts to walk, hearing Jim’s light footsteps right behind him.
The woodland quickly disappears, and the parking lot comes into view.
It takes him a moment to notice that the following footsteps have stopped.
“Jim?” He turns, trying to pick out the boy. At first, his eyes slide right past Jim’s small form hanging from the branches.
“Jim, you are fucking weird.” He walks over to the tree, leaning against it. Jim jumps down, not so gracefully this time, and lands of his ass. Sebastian smiles, offering him a hand.
“But I like you, too. Now stop fucking around so that I can fix your face.”