Chapter 1: ♦A Breakdown in the Library♦
J.D. was not in a spectacular mood at the moment. He had just moved from his old school in he-doesn't-remember-where to this new place in an entirely different state once again. He was just completely done with his father's bullshit. He needed to get out, to get away from all of it. He remembered seeing a Seven-11 store that was closed up for repairs down the road a ways, so he couldn't take refuge there. He had also noticed a library a bit further up the same street, so he decided that that was where he was going to go.
Once he arrived there, he grabbed a book from the philosophy section and set himself to read in a quiet corner of the library, where his only companion was a boy who looked to be about his age who was also only a few millimeters shorter than him, and was reading a book titled "Mosquitoland."
His peace didn't last long, however. Only about fifteen minutes into his book, he received a text message from his father that told him to "get" his "ass" back there.
The hand that gripped his phone tightened around it, its red scarred knuckles turning white. J.D. stood up and turned his phone into a projectile as he threw it to the ground in anger.
Why couldn't he have this moment of solitude? Why was his father so fucking assholish all the time? Well, he knew the answer to that one, but he didn't care. It shouldn't have mattered. His father was so shitty that he decided to take out everything on him. His father was the one to threaten beatings whenever he so much as walked into their current house. His father was the one to get his pathetic ass drunk every weekend. His father was never fucking there, only when he didn't need him was he bothering and pestering J.D. with empty threats. It was always him, him, him...
A hand was placed on his shoulder, and someone was speaking to him through the red haze of his rage.
"Hey, hey, man, calm down. It's alright, you don't have to do whatever he fucking says. Your dad's obviously an asshole. Calm down."
It was calm and firm, so J.D. used it to ground himself. The firm touch was nice, it was just so extremely there that it assured him that everything was there and real and it wasn't just him against the world.
"Hey... are you okay?"
J.D. chuckled. "I'm fine. Just fucking dandy."
The swear felt good in his mouth. There, real, something he could actually feel.
The hand pushed down on his shoulder. J.D. could feel the cool pressure even through his trench coat.
"Does the pressure help? Do you need more of that?"
J.D. nodded at that, feeling the numbness creep away.
"Okay... uh, one second. Sit down, just, uh... Count from one to ten, then back down a few times until I get back, yeah?"
J.D. nodded again, stiffly sitting down on the cushioned chair.
He grasped his hands together again, managing to go through the numbers in his head several times before he felt a cold compress come into contact with the back of his neck. Two hands firmly grabbed his shoulders, not throttling them, but still giving him the awareness that he needed.
Slowly, the red smoke in his eyes dissipated, leaving him tired and breathless.
J.D. slowly looked up to see who had prevented him from blowing up the entire town. It was the Mosquitoland guy from earlier. His messy brown hair was pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head, and he was wearing a black thin-rimmed pair of reading glasses that were either meticulously cared for or rarely used.
J.D. looked down at the ground, his pride rising up in his throat. Half of him wanted to push the guy off of him and run, and the other half wanted to push him off and curse him out. Neither option was very good though, so he came up with an alternative.
The hands were gone now. "So... people usually want to talk about it after that."
The seventeen year old cleared his dry throat. "Um, no, no thanks. Just... where's my phone?"
"Oh." The guy walked away and returned a few moments later, with his cell phone in hand. "I read your dad's text. I hope you don't mind. It was just right there. You kind of fucked the screen's shit up, though." The brunette chuckled in half-amusement. "So... do you want to talk about it?"
"No..." J.D. took his phone and stuffed it into his pocket. "Just keep me distracted. Please."
The guy sat down next to him. "Well... my name's Connor. Connor Murphy. I'm the resident future school shooter. Um, I like to go to this old abandoned apple orchard whenever I'm pissed off at my family. I used to really like knock-knock jokes, y'know? I told them all the time when I was a kid. My favorite book is To Kill a Mockingbird. My favorite move is The Dead Poets' Society. My sister once put indigo streaks in her hair, but when I told her I liked them, she dyed them red just to spite me."
That one drew a chuckle from J.D.'s lips. "Sister? What's her name?"
Connor smiled. "Zoe. Younger. She hates me, of course, but she has a right to. I'm an asshole to her. She deserves better."
J.D. felt some sympathy well up inside him for the shorter one. "Or maybe you deserved a better lot in life. Who knows?"
Connor laughed, then paused. "When did this become a feelings jam?"
J.D. playfully papped him. "Shoosh. Let it happen."
Connor chuckled. "Alright, moirail. What's your name?"
"Jason Dean, otherwise known as J.D. Greetings and salutations, Connor Murphy."
The brunette cackled. "Is that your thing? 'Greetings and salutations?'"
J.D. let a huff escape him. "Better than 'I'm the resident future school shooter.'"
"Touché. When did you get all sassy?"
"Since the day I was born. You obviously don't know me that well."
"Well, why can't I?"
J.D. smirked. This kid was really throwing some pale flirtation his way. Not that he was averse to it, of course. It wasn't like he had anyone in any of his quadrants, so he was completely free to go for anyone that he ran into.
"No one ever said you couldn't, Connor."
"First name basis? I'm flattered."
The raven-haired seventeen year old chuckled. "Why? This isn't Japan."
Connor's eyelids lowered over his heterochromiac eyes, blue with a spot of brown in the left one. "You weeb."
J.D. leaned closer. "Name calling? I thought you were above that."
"What made you think so?"
"Just a feeling." He could feel the other's breath on his lips, they were so close together now.
"I always did like the intuitive ones," he whispered. Then, Connor closed the space between their lips.
It was short and chaste, and done the moment it began. Not that that worried J.D. That was how most pale kisses were.
Connor smirked at J.D., his cheeks slightly pink when he pulled away. "I'll see you later, Dean."
J.D. got up and saluted as he walked away, smirking the whole time. "See you then, Murphy."
Later that day, when J.D. returned to his new house, he did have a screaming match with his father. Still though, at the end of the day, he had to say that his trip to the library was worth it, if he had found a potential friend (moirail?) in Connor Murphy.
Chapter 2: ♠A Fight in the Hallway♠
This chapter is based off of a role play that my sister and I did.
Connor Murphy was worried. Worried, more specifically, about his matesprit, Evan Robin Hansen, who was way more stressed about a science presentation than he should have been.
"Come on, Evan, just breathe," he coached, trying to keep his blonde matesprit from falling into a panic attack. "You're fine, you're okay. You've done this before, you can do it again, yeah?"
Evan swallowed thickly, his voice shaky. "Yeah, b-but I've only ev-ver stumbled and f-fell over my words, then I'd cry like a ch-child and r-run away!"
Connor sighed. He loved and pitied his matesprit, he really did, but he could sometimes be difficult to comfort.
"Not this time, okay? Not this time. This time, you're going to go up there and do a great job, okay?"
Evan bit his lip, nodding. "Yeah. A-Alright." He sat down at his chair in the science classroom. "Th-thanks, Con."
The brunette smiled. "Anytime, Evan."
He walked over to the other side of the room where his chair was and sat down on it, laying his binder on top of his desk.
Connor noticed a familiar figure walk into the science classroom. It was that J.D. kid whom he had prevented from flipping out in the library before school began. So, he had just moved here.
J.D. noticed him, nodded, then sat down to the seat closest to him.
Connor rested his chin on his hand as class began. To him, the teacher just sounded like all of the adults in Charlie Brown. He just zoned out until it was time for his presentation.
After he presented his findings about Saturn and its rings, it was Evan's turn to present about trees and how they effected the environment.
Evan and Connor maintained eye contact throughout the smaller boy's entire presentation, Connor smiling encouragingly whenever Evan stumbled in his words, which wasn't all that often.
After class, Connor was trying to find his matesprit to tell him what a great job he had done when he saw his matesprit talking with J.D. Connor smiled, thinking that it was going to be good that his matesprit and new friend (future moirail?) were getting to know each other.
Then he saw J.D. pat Evan's head.
That head was reserved for Connor's hand only to pat as a form of matesprital affection.
It was fucking on.
Connor ran forward, bumping into a few people on his way. "Hey, Dean," he said as he came. "Watch where you throw your fucking pity!"
J.D. and Evan turned around to see him. J.D. didn't get to for long, however, as Connor punched him in the jaw, causing his head to swing one hundred eighty degrees.
Evan gasped, and J.D. flinched back a few steps.
The raven-haired senior looked up darkly at Connor. He practically had spades in his eyes.
The next thing Connor knew, he was sprawled against the floor after J.D. had punched him in the gut and shoved him over. Before he could do any more damage, Connor scrambled upwards.
That didn't help much, though, as J.D. practically disappeared from sight and reappeared behind Connor before taking him captive in a headlock.
Connor grabbed the collar of his fellow senior's trench coat and flipped him over him, getting the other to release him. Before he could get on top of him though, J.D. hooked his ankles behind Connor's legs and made him fall to the ground.
Quick as a flash, J.D. got on top of Connor and slammed his head against the cement floor.
Connor was dazed, and he tasted blood. He must have bit his lip. He was strangely calm about it, however. He was used to this sort of thing. No matter how many times it happened, though, it always seemed strange to him somehow.
Connor vaguely recognized the fact that there was a hand being offered to help him up, so he took it and braced himself for the coming rush of being pulled upwards.
Once he was up, he saw the smirking face of Jason Dean.
Suddenly, he remembered everything at once.
Connor glared, and was about to make a snarky comment when J.D. did something unexpected.
He grabbed Connor by the face and kissed him, forcing his tongue into Connor's mouth like it was a... no, Connor was not going to imagine that.
The kiss was all force and mercilessness, showing dominance and control. It felt like an assault on Connor's dignity. It tasted like iron of his blood and cherry and blue-raspberry slushie.
Connor decided that from then on he would never again consume another slushie, not willingly. Never a-fucking-gain.
Before Connor could even attempt to retaliate, J.D. pulled back, smirking even more than he was before.
Then, he simply left Connor to boil in his own rage and frustration.
Chapter 3: ♣A Confrontation in Seven-11♣
After that, Connor Murphy's plan was to get better at fighting (both verbally and physically) so that when he saw Jason Dean again, he wouldn't be fucking beaten up, then kissed like that (in short, humiliated) again.
He was seriously waxing black for this kid so far. From his stupid fucking trench coat (seriously, who wore trench coats?), to his stupid cocky smirk, everything about him Connor seemed to just completely loathe. He hated that J.D. was way more attractive than he fucking should have been! Connor just wanted to kiss that simper off of his face sometimes!
Connor just... hated him! So much! The way that he even looked at him as if he knew everything about him just pissed him off beyond belief!
In short, J.D. made Connor want to punch something. Or someone. A specific someone.
This anger, though, this Rage... it was different than what he usually experienced when he was upset at his family, or at his peers for something or other. While that ire was dull and burning, something that was just constantly there and never left, this anger was sharp, and it only came on when he saw J.D. Where his usual indignation was steamy and hot, clouding his senses and making it hard for him to think, his hatred for the Dean kid sharpened his senses and increased his ambition to get better at anything, as long as it helped him surpass him.
Yet, there was still the feeling of a failed moiraillegiance that he could have really benefited from.
Whenever he saw the other sitting alone in the lunch room, fifty percent of him wanted to tease him, while the other fifty percent wanted to comfort J.D. somehow. All Connor knew for sure was that one hundred percent of him wanted to invite him to sit with him and his group of friends(?).
One day, Connor was hanging out with his matesprit's younger stepbrother's matesprit, Michael Mell. Well, he should have just called him what he was; Connor's friend. He was just beginning to accept that. People wanted to be his friends, and that was okay. That was more than okay. That was great.
They decided to go to Seven-11, just to stock up Michael's P.T. Cruiser on chips, snack meats, crackers, all sorts of different soda (that didn't include Mountain Dew), and other assorted foods, as well as to get Michael a slushie.
Connor was smoking a blunt (yes in public, what's it to you? Connor didn't give a flying shit) while waiting outside for Michael to come back out with his treasures when a black car drove up into a nearby parking space. From it, a tall black-haired senior wearing a trench coat stepped out.
Jason fucking Dean.
Connor's eyes narrowed. "Fuck him," he thought.
J.D. sneered when he met Connor's eyes. "Murphy," he greeted as if they were friends.
Connor growled. "Dean," he muttered.
The edges of his lips turned upwards slightly. "I knew that you were low, but I never knew that you would go so low as to smoke weed in public."
Connor took the blunt from his mouth between two fingers. "You think I care about what other people think of me?"
A dark eyebrow was raised. "Not that at all. You wouldn't kill yourself in public, would you?"
"You think I'm stupid?"
"Not at all." This was said without a single trace of insincerity, and Connor hated that. "You're just doing that right now."
Connor rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, thanks for the warning, DARE. I think I'll live." He took a drag just to annoy the other.
It worked. J.D. frowned.
The tension was broken by Michael pushing his way out through the doors of the Seven-11. "Hey, Connor, I got us some- oh, should I... okay, what's happening here? I'm sensing a whole lot of caliginous tension here, and as the Knight of Heart, I'm usually right about this sort of thing." He set his bags of food on the cement, sat on his P.T. Cruiser, and took a sip from his cherry slushie. "So, what's going on here? Can I auspicitize here?"
J.D. rose a brow. "Who are you?"
Michael blushed. "Oh, sorry! Uh, Michael Mell at your service. And you are?"
"Jason Dean, but you can call me J.D. Greetings and salutations."
The Filipino junior wiggled his eyebrows at Connor. "So, is this your new kismesis? Do I officially get to auspicitize for you now?"
Connor felt blood rush to his cheeks. "No!"
"Really? Because as far as I see, you two are definitely waxing pitch for each other. Maybe, though..." He sipped thoughtfully at his slushie for a moment. He snapped his fingers. "I've got it! I think that after I auspicitize and solve the problem here, you guys could be moirails!"
Connor glared at Michael. "Why the hell would you think that, Mell?"
Michael smiled, paying no attention to the negative vibes he was receiving from Connor's direction. "I just think that you guys seem really similar. You're both smart, misunderstood, have the loner aesthetic, and you both probably have shitty home lives!"
"What would you know about my home life," J.D. asked.
Michael raised an eyebrow. "What good parent would allow their kid to wear something as cool as a trench coat? Seriously, dude, I wish my moms would let me wear something like that." He sighed. "Alas, I have but my orange sweatshirt."
J.D. shrugged. "Alright."
Connor pinched his nose, sighing. "Whatever. Let's just go, Mell."
J.D. smirked. "No, Murphy, Michael is right. Let him auspicitize. We have all the time in the world. However, I would prefer that we take this conversation inside, as it is hot as Hades out here."
He walked over to the door and opened it. "You first."
Connor reluctantly followed Michael inside, feeling the cool air hit him full-force when he stepped into the convenience store. He sighed in relief. It really was quite hot outside that day.
J.D. immediately went to the slushie machine, grabbing a cup and swirling the blue-raspberry and cherry flavors.
Michael and Connor sat on the table that supported the slushie machine, Michael drinking his own slushie happily. J.D. sat on the table opposite of them.
Michael sighed. "So, what's the issue here? Did you get into a fight about your shared daddy issues? Or did you guys just get into an argument because you're too similar?"
"Watch it," Connor warned.
Michael smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. So, what is it?"
J.D. muffled a chuckly with his hand. "Well, apparently, I got too affectionate with his matesprit. It was just a joke. I'm sorry if you got it mixed up."
Michael nodded. "There you go. Problem solved, right? Well, Connor, I'll be waiting in my car. Have a feelings jam, yeah?" He saluted them as he left. "See ya!"
J.D. raised an eyebrow. "He's quite the individual. How do you know him?"
Connor sighed. "He's Evan's stepbrother's matesprit."
The other hummed. "Interesting. So, want to talk about those daddy issues of yours?"
The brunette seized up, but then forced himself to loosen. He did owe it to J.D. to explain to him at least vaguely why he flipped out at him for just patting his matesprit on the head as a joke.
"... My dad is really shitty. My mother is less so, but still. Kind of. She tries. He thinks that I'm faking all of my... problems, for attention, so he won't let me get therapy or go on medication. So. I have anger issues, as well as bipolar disorder."
J.D. frowned nodding. "I get it. My dad... isn't exactly the best either. We move around a lot. I've been to ten high schools. My mom committed suicide."
Connor bit his lip, then chuckled. "That's rough, buddy."
J.D. slid off of the table. "Thanks. You shouldn't let Michael wait in his P.T. Cruiser for too long. He could overheat in that sweatshirt of his."
He did the same. "Yeah. Thanks for... y'know. Listening."
The ravenette grinned. "No problem, Murphy." He grabbed Connor by the shoulder, pulling him into a side-hug, then leaned in and kissed his forehead. "You too."
The mostly blue eyes widened, then closed. "Fuck you," he said jokingly, walking out of the Seven-11 and back into Michael's P.T. Cruiser.