This is for the Punk Evan and Pastel Connor au!!
@softmushie @robot-anon @stargirl-murphy @watch-the-whole-world-disappear @lil-sheep-anon @hamburger-anon @unicorn-anon @fox-anon @spade-anon @sickeningly-sweet-honey @interwebseriesfan24
Evan cracked his knuckles, leaning up against the lockers that he and Connor shared, waiting for the boy himself. Connor had no ride home so every day Evan would take him home on his motorcycle. They made quite a pair, Connor and his pastel clothing and cheery demeanor riding the same motorcycle as Evan, school bad boy.
They were an odd couple, Evan knew that. Connor with his sparkly earrings and passion for pink cotton candy and parties, Evan with his tongue pierced, his leather jacket and his mile long list of people he’d like to punch. But what one lacked, the other one had. They filled in the cracks of each other.
Although he wouldn’t admit it, Connor’s presence calmed Evan’s often overwhelming anxiety, and having someone to go home with was helpful, so he would happily wait for the tall, cheerful man he called his own.
He was about to go looking for Connor, who got lost often, when he heard a pained cry from a nearby hallway, followed by a whimper and cruel laughter. The voice the noises belonged to was undoubtedly Connor.
I’m a flash, Evan was in the adjacent hallway, fists clenched as the sight before him unfolded. Connor was pinned against a locker by some jock Evan didn’t recognize. His friends surrounded the pair, egging him on to hit the already bruised boy. Slurs and jeers pervaded the air as the butterfly clips in Connor’s hair grew wet with his own blood.
Connor knew blood was getting on his clothes, a pale pink sweater and light blue jeans he knew Evan liked. He supposed it was better to fixate on the blood on his clothes than the beating he was receiving. He knew skin was splitting because the boy punching him wore several rings, but he hoped Evan wouldn’t think him too ugly when they were done with him.
And what would Evan think of this? Evan was tough, wouldn’t simply lie like a corpse when the boy who had been grabbing his ass in the hallways started to beat him up for fighting back.
Connor watched his own blood drip to the floor and felt himself slowly black out.
Suddenly, a pair of leather clad arms were pushing his attackers off of him, pulling him- no, carrying him away from the scene. Someone was bellowing curses- who was it? Yes, it was Evan, Evan carrying him away, Evan spitting insults and threats like watermelon seeds at the group of boys.
Soon, Evan was just murmuring soothing words in Connor’s ear. “H-hey, baby boy, it’s gonna, gonna be ok. I’m he-ere, alright? I won’t let anything bad ha-happen to you.”
Connor blinked, eyes wet. “Evvy, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, clinging to Evan’s jacket.
Finally having reached the parking lot, Evan gently set Connor on the motorcycle. “For what, sweetheart?”
“M sorry because I, I got blood on your favorite sweater and I didn’t even fight back! It’s all my fault,” he finished, wiping at his blood soaked face.
Evan sighed, explaining gently that the only people Ev was mad at were the people hurting Connor. “It’s not your fault, baby,” he said as he got on the motorcycle, wrapping his arms around Connor.
“Let’s go home and watch a movie, hm? I have some leftover strawberry ice cream with sprinkles, I know you like that,” Evan whispered.
The taller boy gave a weak smile. “Only if you’ll cuddle me.”
In response, Evan kissed him on the cheek and revved the engine.
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