Fifth period started in 5 minutes. Sean spun the dial on his locker, opened it and grabbed his history book. He was sitting on his teal bmx bike as he stuffed the book into his backpack. Looking up, he caught eyes with Matt who was walking down the hall with some chick and another guy. Sean stared at him, started to smile when the girl ran into him. "Hey get the fucking hell out of my way fag," she bitched pushing into him, "and stop looking at Matt like that. Wow, what the fuck, I never thought pretty poor boy was gay, sucks cause you're hot...James, he a fag?"
Sean snorted. "What the fuck is your problem?" he asked her.
"You being a perv. James? Matt?" They both turned to Matt and the kid. Matt was looking the other direction but James was right in Sean's face. "James?" her obnoxious voice rose a pitch higher.
"Yeah," James said. "Right, what's YOUR fucking problem, faggot?" He kicked Sean's bike and pushed him into the lockers while the girl laughed. Sean felt the locks dig into his back. James grabbed his bike before Sean had a chance to fight back and kicked the chain, breaking it. He slammed the wheel against the wall and the metal rods bent, some snapped. Shocked, Sean looked at Matt, expecting him to say something, anything. He was still looking the other direction.
"Matt?" James asked.
Matt looked up. "Yeah, fuck you faggot." He mumbled in Sean's direction. "Burn in hell."
Sean blinked as they walked away. "Yeah, well fuck you!" he called. Neither of the guys looked back, but the chick flipped him the bird over her shoulder. Sean stood there, next to his broken bike, and suddenly he was pissed. he turned and punched the locker.
Something inside Sean felt as if it had snapped. He couldn't stop grinding his teeth all through the rest of his classes. He bit his lips so hard they bled, and his hands were clenched into tight fists. As soon as the bell signaling the end of the day rang, he slammed his chair back and got of there, quick. He walked off campus, carrying his bike, and had gotten halfway down the street when he realised he had let another person take advantage of him. He stopped, and his breath caught in his throat. All the anger that had filled his body moments before seemed to rush out through the soles of his feet. He felt weak and vulnerable, his chest felt heavy and his fingers ached, his lip throbbed. He started walking again, slower this time, he had no where in particular to go. His mind was empty, blocking out the hurt feelings, and it wasn't until he saw the green dumpster that he realised he had walked to the same place he had met Matt. The alley behind the grocery store on 5th.
He put his head against the wall and breathed deep the smell of hobo piss, of rotting food and stale bread. 'You're the biggest fucking idiot,' he thought to himself, 'Why the fuck did you let him do that to you?' With a sudden surge of anger, he punched the brick wall again and again until his knuckles were raw and bloody.
"Sean," a voice behind him spoke.
"Leave me alone," he replied, not turning. He knew it was Matt, he knew his voice.
"Sean, what the hell happened to your hands? Let me see them," Matt said, and Sean felt a hand on his shoulder. It was so heavy, he was so weak.
He spun around.
"Fuck you," he growled. "Don't fucking touch me."
"Look, Sean, I'm sorry about earlier, I- I don't know why I said those things."
"Who cares what you fucking said," Sean hissed, "What fucking matters is what you did. And what did you do when those fucking losers talked to me like that? When that fuckin kid James broke my bike?"
Matt stared at him, he looked guilty.
"Nothing, that's what." Sean leaned in close to his face, "And I thought you actually cared about me, well thanks for the reality check."
His words lit a spark in Matt's eyes, and he suddenly lifted his head and got right back in Sean's face. "Of course I care about you, Sean. Don't fucking tell me I don't care about you, you know I do."
Suddenly all the anger that had been drained from Sean returned. "Fuck you," he whispered, and slammed his fist into Matt's jaw. Matt stumbled backwards, but held his ground. Being a soccer player, he was bigger than Sean in the muscle department, even if they were about the same height. For a moment he looked like he was going to hit back, but then his expression changed and he looked sad.
"Hit me back," Sean dared him, fire dancing in his eyes.
"No, I deserve this, I was a fucking dumb ass to you." Matt said, staring back.
Angry at Matt unwillingness to fight, Sean hit him again, this time in the chest. He hit him again and again, in the jaw and the nose, until blood ran slowly out of Matt's mouth. Sean's breath came out uneven, rough, his eyes wild with anger. Finally, Matt grabbed his shoulder.
"Sean," he said, his face bloody but mostly unharmed, "I'm sorry, please stop." He tried to wrap him in a hug but Sean pushed away.
"I fucking hate you," Sean hissed and spat in his face.
Both of the boys froze. Sean's heart beat rapidly inside his chest as he glared at Matt, spit in his eye. Matt slowly wiped the spit from his eye, he felt an electric charge run through him and he slammed Sean into the wall behind them. "How dare you fucking spit in my face," He said angrily, "You want me to hit you? Well here you go," and he rammed his fist into Sean's face, as hard as he could, something cracking under his fingers. Blood gushed out of Sean's nose and he grinned a lopsided grin, "You're weak. Hit me again." And Matt's fist connected with his face again.
"Still a fuckin wuss, you're stronger than that," Sean pried, and Matt slammed his head into the wall before hitting him again.
"Again," Sean said roughly, spitting blood out the side of his mouth. Heat flared through the back of his head where it had hit the brick and an intense pain shot through his nose, behind his eyes. Matt hit him again, harder.
"Harder," Sean coughed, raising his chin again and looking Matt square in the eye before he felt his fist connect with his jaw, and felt the brick on the other side of his face as his head jerked back from the impact.
Matt heard Sean utter another word, and he hit him again, adrenaline rushing through his veins, anger at himself and at Sean. He hit him again and again until Sean stopped urging him on, and then he hit him again, slammed his head into the wall over and over until suddenly he realised that Sean's body had gone limp, that he was holding him up and pummeling him at the same time. Still pissed, he let go and watched Sean's body fall to the ground in a heap. He spit on him. "I could fucken kill you," he whispered.
He saw that Sean's shirt was covered in nasty shit, and decided he might as well put him in a clean one so that no one came by and thought he was a hobo, and called the cops, because that would get Matt in trouble. He took his own shirt off, and, still fuming, reached down to rip Sean's off his body. As soon as he lifted it over Sean's head, all the adrenaline disappeared. His breath hitched in his throat as he stared down at Sean's torso, covered cigarette burns, and scars that looked like they had come from slashes made with knives and razors. There were bruises too, some big and purple, new, and and some greenish yellow, smaller and fading.
He watched as blood poured out of Sean's nose and mouth, and he realised what he had done. He had beat him until the ground around them was painted in his blood, he was unconcious, now some horrible trauma had been exposed. Unable to think, Matt fell to his knees, guilt enveloping him as he began to cry.
His head in his hands, tears wracked his body, and he lay there next to Sean's motionless body for a good 15 minutes, letting the sin wash over him. Sobs shook him until finally he managed to drag himself up off the ground and, still not being able to breathe, picked up the bloody t-shirt and throw it into his backpack.
Tossing the unsoiled shirt onto the ground, he turned and left, unable to look back even once at the mess of a body laying on the cold asphalt.