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Title: A Boy from Nowhere (2/?)
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Green Lantern Corps [DC Comics]
Pairing: Guy/Kyle
Rating: PG-13 (Language)
Summary: Three days later, Guy's an angst machine.
Dis: Lies and bullshit, as always.
Author's Notes: I meant for "Boy from Nowhere" to be a single, 1500 word story, but it grew, so I let it, and it fits in with other prompts for my
dcu_freeforall table, so it's grown. The prompt for this bit is "loaded syringe," and we're in metaphor territory now.
Previous Parts: Part One
A Boy from Nowhere (2/?)
By Perpetual Motion
Guy spends three days trying not to think about it. On the first day, Kyle tries to catch his eye in gym class as Coach Kilowog explains the volleyball rules, but Guy doesn't meet his eye. On the second day, Kyle passes Guy a note in the hallway. It's a rough, cartoonish sketch of Guy with huge eyes, his mouth hanging open. Underneath it is printed, "Chicken." Guy crumples it up but doesn't throw it away. He shoves it into the bottom of his backpack.
On the third day, Tommy hands him a milk carton and points to Kyle's turned back.
"You'd think the fag would learn," he laughs, and Guy wants to shove the milk carton down his throat.
"Maybe he thinks you're not lame ass enough to keep throwing shit at him," Guy retorts, and Tommy's face goes red.
"Something you want to tell us, Gardner?" Tommy hisses. "You been hanging out with the fag?"
"Yeah," Guy says and jumps at his own admission. "Yeah," he repeats, because to back down now that he's said it would give Tommy ammunition. "And he's not a bad guy."
"He's a fag," Tommy spats out.
So am I, Guy thinks, and it bounces around in his head for a few seconds. "So what?" Guy asks. "What's the matter, Tommy? Afraid you'd like it if the fag asked your name?"
Tommy's swinging before Guy can draw breath, but Guy manages to dodge, sliding backwards in his chair as Tommy jumps up to grab him. Guy drops his shoulder, rams it into Tommy's stomach, and runs him backwards until he bounces off the wall. Tommy swings again, his fist glancing off the side of Guy's head. Guy bounces him off the wall again, reaches out to grab his jacket and swing him around, but there's suddenly a giant hand on his shoulder pulling him away. Guy snarls and rolls away, coming up on his feet, hands up to defend himself.
"GARDNER!" It's Coach Kilowog. He's looming over Guy, one massive hand keeping Tommy against the wall, the other held out, palm up to Guy. There's a look in his eyes, somewhere between pissed off and concerned. "Gardner, sound off," Coach orders.
"I'm here," Guy snipes. "I'm fine." Except he's not. He can feel blood oozing down his temple, and he's still seeing flashes of red on the edge of his vision. He wants to jump around Coach Kilowog, throw Tommy on the floor, whale on him until he's bleeding in at least three places.
"Tommy," Coach says, voice quiet but dangerous, "get to the principal's office. Tell Mr. Salaak I sent you, and tell him what you did."
"What about—"
"Go." Coach matches the word with a sharp glare, and Tommy hurries away as soon as Coach lifts his hand from his chest. "Gardner," Coach says, and his tone is matter-of-fact but not dangerous anymore. "You're with me. Let's go."
Guy falls into step behind him without thinking. Coach leads him into the gym, empty because it's lunchtime. He points to the bleachers, and Guy sits, hands between his knees, head down. He watches Coach Kilowog's feet as he paces back and forth.
"Explain it to me."
Guy looks up, lifts a hand to swipe at the blood still leaking out of his temple. "He hit me," he says.
"Not with the first swing." Coach pauses in his pacing, walks over to Guy, grabs his chin to tilt his head. Guy flinches without thinking. "Easy, kid," Coach soothes. "Just checking the damage."
"I'm fine."
Coach doesn't answer, just eyes the cut on Guy's head. "Must have gotten you with his class ring."
"I guess," Guy mutters. He waits for Coach to step back, but Coach stays put, crosses his arms, looks down at Guy, waiting. "What?"
"You and Tommy have been hanging out since you joined football your freshman year. Wanna tell me why you're suddenly knocking each other around?"
"No reason."
"Out with it."
Guy meets Coach's look, narrows his eyes when Coach doesn't look away. "He's a dick," Guy tells him. "I just got tired of his shit."
"Hmmm." Coach leans back, rests his elbows on the riser behind him. "So, this has nothing to do with Tommy's ongoing homophobia, then?"
It's weird, Guy thinks, to hear Coach Kilowog say things like 'ongoing homophobia.' He looks exactly like every other thick-necked jock Guy's ever seen on the field or during his father's never-ending football watching. It's not that he hasn't heard Coach use big words; it's that he can't separate what he knows of thick-necked jocks from Coach sometimes. He opens his mouth to tell Coach that it's got nothing to do with Tommy being a homophobe. "Yeah," he says instead. "Mostly."
"You attack like you did, and it looks pretty personal."
I'm gay, Guy thinks. "I talked to that Kyle guy a little," he says. "Tommy's always making fun of him, and he did it again today and it just…" He looks down at his hands again, notices that a knuckle on his left hand is split open. He doesn't remember punching Tommy.
"You got him in the ribs," Coach says, looking at the same spot on Guy's hand. "Right after you rushed him into the wall."
"Oh," Guy mutters. He glances at Coach from the corner of his eye. "Do I…" He doesn't know how to ask what he needs to know. Does he rage out on a regular basis? Is he dangerous to be around? Is there something wrong with him? "My dad hits me." It comes out in a rush, like he's breathing out to lift weights, and after he says it, he can't look up. Can't bring himself to see the look on Coach's face.
"I've known," Coach says after a moment. "I know what football injuries look like." He doesn't say anything else, but Guy gets the message. Football injuries don't look like abuse injuries.
"Don't you have to tell someone?" Guy asks. "Because I told you? Don't you have to report it or something?"
"I'll have to tell Principal Ganeth," Coach admits. "And he'll have to inform the authorities."
"Shit." Guy drops his head, covers it with his hands. "If anyone shows up to check on me, he's just going to hit me more once they're gone."
"You could leave."
"I can't." Guy presses his palms against his eyes. "My mom…"
"You've got an older brother, right? Could you two stay with him?"
"Wouldn't stop the old bastard from coming after us. Mace…" Guy shakes his head. "He knows about it, but it never happened to him, so he doesn't see it the same. He thinks Dad just gets…confused or something." Guy looks at Coach Kilowog, looks away. "Why the fuck am I telling you any of this?"
"I don't know," Coach replies. "Maybe because you needed to. You say it out loud, it means you have to deal with it."
"I don't want…" Guy looks away again. The bell shrills, and he jumps. "I've got—"
"I can give you a pass," Coach offers.
"No. I need to…" Guy stands up, paces, feels Coach watching him. "I'm…" He shakes his head, turns on his heel. "There's something…"
Coach narrows his eyes, shifts in his seat so he's leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "What else is going on?" he asks, and he sounds sincerely concerned. "What's so bad that talking about your dad is better than it?"
I'm gay, Guy thinks again, and he shakes his head to get rid of the thought. "Nothing," he says. "Nothing," he repeats.
Coach narrows his eyes. "Bullshit," he says, voice firm. "I've known you awhile, Gardner. Something's going on."
I kissed Kyle, Guy thinks, and it's the first time he's purposely thought about it since it happened. "My dad's a dick," he tells Coach. "He's always been a dick, and he'll always be a dick, and he's always going to whale on me whether I tell anyone or not, and…"
"And?" Coach prompts.
"And nothing." Guy slams shut the part of his mind that's thinking about Kyle, shoves it into a mental box and shoves it into a mental corner. "My dad's a dick. I punch guys who make me mad. That's it."
Coach Kilowog narrows his eyes. "You sure?"
Before Guy can answer, a group of students walk in, the fifth period gym class. "I'm gonna be late for history," Guy mutters.
"I'll give you a note for Mr. Jordan," Coach says as he pulls his hall pass pad from his shirt pocket. He makes out the slip, holds it out to Guy, keeps a grip on it when Guy grabs it. "You sure nothing else is going on, Gardner?"
"Yes," Guy hisses. He tugs at the slip, tugs again when Coach doesn't let go. "See you at practice later," he says, and he has to take a step backwards to steady himself when Coach suddenly lets go of the slip.
"Five minutes after the bell, or you're running sprints."
"Yes, Coach," Guy agrees, and he hurries away, feeling Coach watching him all the way to the door.
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Green Lantern Corps [DC Comics]
Pairing: Guy/Kyle
Rating: PG-13 (Language)
Summary: Three days later, Guy's an angst machine.
Dis: Lies and bullshit, as always.
Author's Notes: I meant for "Boy from Nowhere" to be a single, 1500 word story, but it grew, so I let it, and it fits in with other prompts for my
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Previous Parts: Part One
A Boy from Nowhere (2/?)
By Perpetual Motion
Guy spends three days trying not to think about it. On the first day, Kyle tries to catch his eye in gym class as Coach Kilowog explains the volleyball rules, but Guy doesn't meet his eye. On the second day, Kyle passes Guy a note in the hallway. It's a rough, cartoonish sketch of Guy with huge eyes, his mouth hanging open. Underneath it is printed, "Chicken." Guy crumples it up but doesn't throw it away. He shoves it into the bottom of his backpack.
On the third day, Tommy hands him a milk carton and points to Kyle's turned back.
"You'd think the fag would learn," he laughs, and Guy wants to shove the milk carton down his throat.
"Maybe he thinks you're not lame ass enough to keep throwing shit at him," Guy retorts, and Tommy's face goes red.
"Something you want to tell us, Gardner?" Tommy hisses. "You been hanging out with the fag?"
"Yeah," Guy says and jumps at his own admission. "Yeah," he repeats, because to back down now that he's said it would give Tommy ammunition. "And he's not a bad guy."
"He's a fag," Tommy spats out.
So am I, Guy thinks, and it bounces around in his head for a few seconds. "So what?" Guy asks. "What's the matter, Tommy? Afraid you'd like it if the fag asked your name?"
Tommy's swinging before Guy can draw breath, but Guy manages to dodge, sliding backwards in his chair as Tommy jumps up to grab him. Guy drops his shoulder, rams it into Tommy's stomach, and runs him backwards until he bounces off the wall. Tommy swings again, his fist glancing off the side of Guy's head. Guy bounces him off the wall again, reaches out to grab his jacket and swing him around, but there's suddenly a giant hand on his shoulder pulling him away. Guy snarls and rolls away, coming up on his feet, hands up to defend himself.
"GARDNER!" It's Coach Kilowog. He's looming over Guy, one massive hand keeping Tommy against the wall, the other held out, palm up to Guy. There's a look in his eyes, somewhere between pissed off and concerned. "Gardner, sound off," Coach orders.
"I'm here," Guy snipes. "I'm fine." Except he's not. He can feel blood oozing down his temple, and he's still seeing flashes of red on the edge of his vision. He wants to jump around Coach Kilowog, throw Tommy on the floor, whale on him until he's bleeding in at least three places.
"Tommy," Coach says, voice quiet but dangerous, "get to the principal's office. Tell Mr. Salaak I sent you, and tell him what you did."
"What about—"
"Go." Coach matches the word with a sharp glare, and Tommy hurries away as soon as Coach lifts his hand from his chest. "Gardner," Coach says, and his tone is matter-of-fact but not dangerous anymore. "You're with me. Let's go."
Guy falls into step behind him without thinking. Coach leads him into the gym, empty because it's lunchtime. He points to the bleachers, and Guy sits, hands between his knees, head down. He watches Coach Kilowog's feet as he paces back and forth.
"Explain it to me."
Guy looks up, lifts a hand to swipe at the blood still leaking out of his temple. "He hit me," he says.
"Not with the first swing." Coach pauses in his pacing, walks over to Guy, grabs his chin to tilt his head. Guy flinches without thinking. "Easy, kid," Coach soothes. "Just checking the damage."
"I'm fine."
Coach doesn't answer, just eyes the cut on Guy's head. "Must have gotten you with his class ring."
"I guess," Guy mutters. He waits for Coach to step back, but Coach stays put, crosses his arms, looks down at Guy, waiting. "What?"
"You and Tommy have been hanging out since you joined football your freshman year. Wanna tell me why you're suddenly knocking each other around?"
"No reason."
"Out with it."
Guy meets Coach's look, narrows his eyes when Coach doesn't look away. "He's a dick," Guy tells him. "I just got tired of his shit."
"Hmmm." Coach leans back, rests his elbows on the riser behind him. "So, this has nothing to do with Tommy's ongoing homophobia, then?"
It's weird, Guy thinks, to hear Coach Kilowog say things like 'ongoing homophobia.' He looks exactly like every other thick-necked jock Guy's ever seen on the field or during his father's never-ending football watching. It's not that he hasn't heard Coach use big words; it's that he can't separate what he knows of thick-necked jocks from Coach sometimes. He opens his mouth to tell Coach that it's got nothing to do with Tommy being a homophobe. "Yeah," he says instead. "Mostly."
"You attack like you did, and it looks pretty personal."
I'm gay, Guy thinks. "I talked to that Kyle guy a little," he says. "Tommy's always making fun of him, and he did it again today and it just…" He looks down at his hands again, notices that a knuckle on his left hand is split open. He doesn't remember punching Tommy.
"You got him in the ribs," Coach says, looking at the same spot on Guy's hand. "Right after you rushed him into the wall."
"Oh," Guy mutters. He glances at Coach from the corner of his eye. "Do I…" He doesn't know how to ask what he needs to know. Does he rage out on a regular basis? Is he dangerous to be around? Is there something wrong with him? "My dad hits me." It comes out in a rush, like he's breathing out to lift weights, and after he says it, he can't look up. Can't bring himself to see the look on Coach's face.
"I've known," Coach says after a moment. "I know what football injuries look like." He doesn't say anything else, but Guy gets the message. Football injuries don't look like abuse injuries.
"Don't you have to tell someone?" Guy asks. "Because I told you? Don't you have to report it or something?"
"I'll have to tell Principal Ganeth," Coach admits. "And he'll have to inform the authorities."
"Shit." Guy drops his head, covers it with his hands. "If anyone shows up to check on me, he's just going to hit me more once they're gone."
"You could leave."
"I can't." Guy presses his palms against his eyes. "My mom…"
"You've got an older brother, right? Could you two stay with him?"
"Wouldn't stop the old bastard from coming after us. Mace…" Guy shakes his head. "He knows about it, but it never happened to him, so he doesn't see it the same. He thinks Dad just gets…confused or something." Guy looks at Coach Kilowog, looks away. "Why the fuck am I telling you any of this?"
"I don't know," Coach replies. "Maybe because you needed to. You say it out loud, it means you have to deal with it."
"I don't want…" Guy looks away again. The bell shrills, and he jumps. "I've got—"
"I can give you a pass," Coach offers.
"No. I need to…" Guy stands up, paces, feels Coach watching him. "I'm…" He shakes his head, turns on his heel. "There's something…"
Coach narrows his eyes, shifts in his seat so he's leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "What else is going on?" he asks, and he sounds sincerely concerned. "What's so bad that talking about your dad is better than it?"
I'm gay, Guy thinks again, and he shakes his head to get rid of the thought. "Nothing," he says. "Nothing," he repeats.
Coach narrows his eyes. "Bullshit," he says, voice firm. "I've known you awhile, Gardner. Something's going on."
I kissed Kyle, Guy thinks, and it's the first time he's purposely thought about it since it happened. "My dad's a dick," he tells Coach. "He's always been a dick, and he'll always be a dick, and he's always going to whale on me whether I tell anyone or not, and…"
"And?" Coach prompts.
"And nothing." Guy slams shut the part of his mind that's thinking about Kyle, shoves it into a mental box and shoves it into a mental corner. "My dad's a dick. I punch guys who make me mad. That's it."
Coach Kilowog narrows his eyes. "You sure?"
Before Guy can answer, a group of students walk in, the fifth period gym class. "I'm gonna be late for history," Guy mutters.
"I'll give you a note for Mr. Jordan," Coach says as he pulls his hall pass pad from his shirt pocket. He makes out the slip, holds it out to Guy, keeps a grip on it when Guy grabs it. "You sure nothing else is going on, Gardner?"
"Yes," Guy hisses. He tugs at the slip, tugs again when Coach doesn't let go. "See you at practice later," he says, and he has to take a step backwards to steady himself when Coach suddenly lets go of the slip.
"Five minutes after the bell, or you're running sprints."
"Yes, Coach," Guy agrees, and he hurries away, feeling Coach watching him all the way to the door.