We Are TroubleD – “The Walking Disaster” (High school days, Pre-Capture)
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“We Are TroubleD” Masterpost | Previous | Next
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Content Warnings: Bullying, crying, distrustfulness, emotional whump, homophobia and homophobic language/slurs, injuries (black eye), manhandling, mention of past trauma from bullying, physical violence (punching, shoving), social ostracization, swearing
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A few days had passed since Tristan’s unexpected dinner date with Darius.
Wait, date?! No, not a date. Oh my God, no. Not a date. Ew.
Dinner… experience?
It certainly had been an experience, but at the end of it, Tristan thought that he and Darius were on good terms. Could a friendship between them actually form? It was possible; Darius had laughed at him in the parking lot and said that Tristan was “an alright guy”. That was huge.
Once word got out about their meeting though, Tristan had indeed been teased for it. His friends playfully ribbed him, fascinated and impressed that he had made any sort of progress toward getting the enigmatic spooky boy out of his shell.
“He actually talked to you?!” one of them marveled.
“How did you get through the meal?” asked another. “Were you scared?”
“I can’t believe he’d even sit with another human for that long.” chimed in a third.
“He’s not that bad.” Tristan insisted. “A lot of people have been really mean to him. I think he’s just shy.”
Yet the group continued to banter about how strange Darius had always been, and how he never seemed to want to be around anyone for extended periods of time. It made Tristan glad that he hadn’t told them about their planned meetup for the next weekend.
“You’re a miracle worker.”
“The goth kid whisperer.”
“Fearless of the freaky.”
Tristan rolled his eyes.
But maybe he was naive to think that he had made an impression on Darius, because it quickly became apparent that the older boy was avoiding him. The first day back after the dinner, Darius nodded in greeting at Tristan when he passed by the A/V desk at play practice, but once word started to get out that he and Tristan had a night out at the diner, Darius clammed right back up. He’d briskly stride by the lighting booth without even looking up or paying him any mind.
Despite that, Tristan had caught Darius staring at him a time or two from the stage, but when spotted, he would quickly go back to his set painting like nothing had happened.
The murmurs weren’t just contained to the theatre crew, unfortunately. Among them, the chatter had been lighthearted, but once the story seeped out into the student body at large, harsh rumors started flying. Tristan couldn’t possibly imagine why anyone cared, but maybe everyone else's social lives were so blasé that they felt the need to concern themselves with the goings on of others. Honestly, what did it matter to them?!
For a stint, he felt like a mini celebrity. At lunch he felt the eyes of his curious peers on him. There would be hushed conversations and giggles as he walked through the halls; people whispered secrets and gossip about him to each other that not even he had heard. He had been a nobody before, but now— eh, he still was a nobody… But a nobody who could get Darius Astor to smile.
Tristan tried not to let it get to him. After all, it had just been dinner and nothing more. He’d see how their visit to the record store panned out, but if Darius didn’t want to be his friend after that, fine. No one needed to know. Hopefully folks would get bored and move on to the next topic of conversation quicker if there truly was nothing new to discuss about them.
He just had to wait it out. And he did. Until things got scary.
His troubles started subtly- someone bumped into him in the hallway as they passed by. He didn’t see who it was, but he certainly felt it. On the way to his next class, it happened again, harder this time. Tristan caught a glimpse of the perpetrator then: a tall, conventionally attractive boy with wavy brown hair sneering at him. He was more on guard from that point on, but the same guy managed to get him a third time with a full-on shoulder check. The impact caused Tristan to lose his footing and trip, stumbling into the side of a locker.
“What the hell?!” he snapped, irritated.
“Oops, sorry.” The boy responded, but there was not an ounce of sincerity in his tone. It was mock kindness, as if there was some inside joke that everyone was in on except for Tristan.
Tristan adjusted his backpack and moved to leave, but the taller boy stepped in front of him and blocked his path. He hummed, giving Tristan a once over to size him up.
“So, you’re the fairy that everyone’s talking about…”
Oh, absolutely not. Tristan wasn’t about to just stand there and be insulted. He tried again to push his way past the stranger, but the taller boy shot out his arms and boxed him in.
“What’s the rush? Stay a while.”
“Move.” Tristan commanded. He was trying not to show fear, but he faltered upon seeing the guy’s face smirking down at him.
The boy before him was beautiful in an unnerving way: a chiseled jaw, straight bleached white teeth, and striking hazel eyes that made Tristan feel self-conscious. He was perfect. Too perfect, like a Greek statue that had come to life. Without question, he could easily be a model. Instead, he was intimidating Tristan in a high school hallway.
“I hear you’re into freaks.” the guy said. “Did you find out what makes Dizzy tick?”
‘Dizzy’? Was he talking about Darius? He had to be, but Tristan had never heard him referred to by that name before.
“Move!” Tristan repeated, forcing more conviction into his voice. Regardless, he was acutely aware of just how jacked the arms were that framed his head and kept him backed up against the locker. This guy could do some serious damage if he wanted to.
The taller boy leaned in closer, lowering his volume. “Did you kiss?” his eyes glinted in sick amusement as he cocked his head to the side. “Was there tongue?”
“Leave me alone!” Tristan shoved the larger boy hard, but he was sturdy like a refrigerator and barely budged.
The brunette broke into a hyena-like laugh. “Oh, did I strike a nerve?”
RIIIIINNNGG!!
Thank God, Tristan was saved by the bell. The tall boy tsked and stepped away, finally granting Tristan the space to run.
“Tell me about it later!” he called after him, but Tristan had no intention of doing so.
His heart pounded all through his last class of the day, and he was relieved when the final bell rang. For his own peace of mind, he stayed behind in the science lab until the halls had mostly cleared of students, then he made his way to the auditorium for tech rehearsal.
He sank down into his seat at the A/V booth and leaned into his hands, burying them in his hair to process what had happened. Who the hell was that? He could deal with rumors flying, but someone physically coming up to him and menacing him to his face?
Once his friends noticed his distress, they asked him what was wrong. Tristan recounted the altercation with the stranger and the group looked shocked.
“Wait, Lazlo came after you? From the wrestling team?” one of his friends questioned.
Tristan switched on the panel before him to adjust the settings.
“Does he have brown hair and look like he was sculpted by God himself?”
“Yeah, that’s him…”
Another friend crossed his arms and frowned. “Sorry man, he’s the worst. But that’s weird, normally he only picks on people like— ah...” he trailed off, realizing that he was saying something that he probably shouldn’t, but Tristan could figure out where the rest of the sentence was going anyway.
Darius.
People like Darius.
As if on queue, Darius walked into the theatre and made his way down the aisle toward the stage. He tried to be subtle about it, but Tristan caught him stealing a glance as he passed the tech booth. He looked troubled- his dark brows knit together as his vision landed on him. The second their gaze met he peered elsewhere, but Tristan couldn’t shake a sudden sense of unease…
***
Luckily, Tristan hadn’t been harassed again since the day he was cornered, but all that changed on Friday.
It was time for his final class of the day, and jogging to it proved to be more challenging than he anticipated. Why were there so many people meandering around? Why weren’t the architects who designed the school better at their jobs?
That stupid bottleneck was ahead- the point where the hallway narrowed near the stairs and slowed down the flow of traffic. He just had to make it through there to get into the main hall, but everyone ahead of him was moving at a glacial pace. He was looking for a good opportunity to merge into the masses when from down the hall he heard:
“Hey Tristannn…”
Fuck. Lazlo. Learning Tristan’s name was a minor improvement from the slur he had used at their last meeting, but the gesture still didn’t bring him any comfort. Tristan sped up, not wanting to let that creep get any more public insults in.
“Tristannn!” Lazlo called in a singsong voice, a little closer now. “I know you hear me.”
The crowd shuffled along, not nearly fast enough as they got to the bottleneck. Tristan pushed forward more desperately, but the people in front of him stopped to let another group of students merge in from the stairs. It was a complete standstill. Freakin’— No, no, no…
Lazlo spoke up again. Close. Way too close.
“What’s up, buddy?”
The hair on the back of Tristan’s neck stood up. Lazlo was right behind him, but he didn’t dare to turn around to address him.
The bully clicked his tongue and feigned feeling hurt. “You know, it’s not nice to ignore people.”
Tristan was still as a stone, like a prey animal futilely trying to blend into its surroundings to avoid being eaten.
“Look at me.” Lazlo commanded.
No.
“I said look at me, bitch.”
No.
“HEY!”
“UNGH!” Tristan was aggressively shoved to the ground and hit the tile with a thud. Seriously?! ‘Hey’ to physical violence in 0.5 seconds?! Instinctively he covered his head and curled up to protect himself, but no blow came.
Above him a random kid exclaimed “OOOOH!”, followed immediately by the sound of someone slamming violently against a locker. Chaos erupted and instantly the students clogging the hallway were whipped into a frenzy, hollering and shouting as they witnessed whatever was going on.
It was noisy enough to quickly overwhelm Tristan as he pushed himself to his feet. He couldn’t make out the specifics of what people were worked up about. Was this because he had been knocked over? No, that couldn’t be it. No one was paying attention to him. Something was going on behind him.
After brushing himself off he tried to see what was happening, but too many people had scrambled in the way around the scene, creating a barrier between him and Lazlo. He thought he heard people tussling between the shouts, but it was hard to tell for sure.
“BREAK IT UP AND CLEAR THE HALLS!” came the roar of a teacher above the noise. “EVERYONE, GET TO CLASS!” some students seemed reluctant, but others shuffled off quickly, wanting to avoid any potential consequences of lingering after the instruction. Tristan spared no time in fleeing the scene, wanting to get out of dodge as quickly as possible before Lazlo spotted him again, though he doubted he’d have the balls to do anything in front of a teacher.
Last period zoomed by, and by some miracle Tristan didn’t get called into the principal’s office to report on the incident. That was fine with him. As frightening as dealing with a bully was, it was also embarrassing. He just wanted to forget the whole thing. Maybe after a weekend to cool down Lazlo would forget about him, too.
After school he slumped into the theatre tech booth, relieved to be in the low light to chill out. He stared absently at the flickering indicators on the sound board, rising and falling with every line the actors recited. This was a particularly long scene during which he could afford the luxury of zoning out for a minute.
He owed Darius an apology. The stupid rumors around school had gotten out of hand. That had never been his intention when he told his friends about their dinner, but the student body took any scrap of a potentially juicy story and ran with it.
If he had been getting bullied, what had Darius endured? Did he blame him for the circus of the past week? Did he think that Tristan had betrayed him just as everyone else had?
Probably. He felt so awful.
… Where was Darius, anyway? Curiously Tristan scanned the stage, but the goth was nowhere to be found. Odd, they were already 15 minutes into rehearsal.
“Has anyone seen—?” but the question died in his throat once he saw the knowing looks of pity that his crewmates gave him.
“C’mon man, you’re not really still hung up on Darius, are you?” one asked. “Just forget about him, yeah? We told you, he’s not worth your time.”
Tristan pursed his lips. “I just— I just thought…”
“It’s not you, Tristan. There’s a reason he’s miserable and lonely: no one is good enough for him. He’ll never care about you or anyone but himself.”
Tristan’s vision fell back onto the control panel. Maybe his friends were right. He was just another statistic in a long line of failed attempts to connect.
A sudden rush of wind rustled the stack of papers on the table next to him. Darius tore down the aisle like a tornado making his way toward the stage. His hood was pulled up and hiding his face, but his signature platform boots gave him away. He seemed agitated, probably because he was so late.
With a sigh, Tristan readjusted the lighting cue notes and sank back into his chair, then turned his attention back to his job.
Practice went well for the most part. The A/V crew hit all their marks, spare for one screw up where the one of the lights refused to budge on its axis. They had to go up and fix the darned thing, but it worked out in the end.
Darius hadn’t turned around the entire time. He had his headphones on and his hood up, entirely lost in the scenery he was bringing to life with each stroke of his paintbrush.
Performers and tech crew alike left the auditorium at the end of the night, but Darius hung behind like always to be one of the last ones out. Tristan waited in the now dark tech booth, and when he finally saw the boy slinking his way up to the door, he spoke out to him, ready to apologize.
“Darius.”
But Darius didn’t make any sort of acknowledgement. His eyes were glued to the carpet, watching one foot cross in front of the other as he walked. Tristan didn’t know how he could even see anything with his bangs obscuring his vision like that; His long black hair looked less tamed than normal today, covering whatever parts of his face that his hood left exposed.
“Darius.” Tristan repeated, but the boy continued right on by him without even looking up. Once he heard bleeding audio through the headphones, Tristan felt dumb. Of course, Darius was still listening to his music and hadn’t even heard him.
Tristan caught up and reached out, placing a gentle hand on Darius’ shoulder to get his attention. That was a mistake considering how dark the house was. In hindsight, he should have at least kept the tech booth’s desk lamp on. The goth jumped at the unexpected touch, quickly flinching back and turning to see who had grabbed him as he pulled his headphones down.
“Sorry!” Tristan exclaimed, genuinely feeling bad. He squinted as he caught sight of Darius’ startled expression. There was something on his face, mostly covered by his bangs. What was…?
Darius swiftly twisted away and readjusted his hood, now walking even faster toward the exit.
“Wait! Darius, what’s that?!” Tristan scampered after him.
“Nothing. It’s okay. I’m fine.” Darius bit.
Tristan wasn’t convinced in the least. “But y-your face— it—”
“Leave it alone, Tristan.” Darius flung the auditorium door open and went sweeping through it like a fleeing phantom.
“Frickin’— won’t you just stop?! Hey! What’s with you?!” They both spilled into the main hall. “I’m trying to tell you I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for everyone to talk about us the way they have. I told my friends about our dinner, but that was it. I thought they’d keep it quiet, but word got out anyway. I never wanted to hurt you.”
Darius snorted. “I don’t give a shit about that. That’s my normal, remember? Fuck off.”
“I’m serious! I didn’t—” Tristan took a second to collect his thoughts. “You’ve been avoiding me all week… Was dinner really that terrible? Was— was hanging out with me really that terrible?”
Darius paused on the floor mat by the school exit and laughed once but didn’t turn around.
“That’s what you’re worried about? If I liked eating with you? For fuck’s sake.”
“Then what is it?”
Darius shook his head then dropped his gaze to his platform boots.
“We can’t be friends, Tristan. It’s too dangerous. For your own good, stay away from me.”
Tristan’s eyes lit up in disbelief. What was this, some stupid paranormal teen romance movie? Darius might have looked like an emo vampire, but Tristan wasn’t going to let him act like one.
“Cut the crap!” he snapped. “‘Too dangerous’… What’s the real reason you push people away? I’m genuinely trying to be your friend. Don’t you want that?”
Darius clenched his fists but was silent.
“Maybe they were right.” Tristan muttered dejectedly. “Maybe you do only care about yourself.”
Darius placed a hand on the exit door’s push bar and held there for a minute, turning just enough for Tristan to see his mouth pulled into a tight, somber line.
“Goodbye Tristan.”
As he started out the door, Tristan grabbed his wrist to stop him, surprising Darius enough to whirl around to face him.
“Can you at least tell me why—” but his thought was cut off when he saw Darius’ face. His hood had flown off, and his bangs swept to the side in the action, revealing an ugly shiner of a black eye. Tristan hadn’t been seeing things after all.
“... What happened to you?”
Darius tried to yank out of Tristan’s grasp, but the blonde held tightly onto him. Not in a violent or aggressive way, but from a place of honest concern. Their eyes met and Darius’ expression burned with a defensive anger before he finally cut his glance to the side.
“You did.” he spat.
The words shocked Tristan into letting him go. Darius ripped his hand away and rubbed his wrist, but he didn’t run.
“This is what happens when I make friends.” he gestured to the injury. “Asshole was coming for you, but I got there first. He’s just the better hitter.”
Tristan was dumbfounded. “‘He’ who?”
“Fuckin’ Lazlo, that’s who. You talk to the freak, you become a target. Anyone who’s friends with me gets roped into his bullying. I told him to leave you alone, but he won’t listen.”
So that was what had happened that afternoon. That was the crash against the lockers. That was the reason people were crowding and hollering. Darius had taken a beating, all to protect him.
Tristan took a step back, his head reeling. “Y— you defended me?”
Darius looked pained but nodded.
“It doesn’t fucking matter though, since I only care about myself.” his face twisted into a nasty scowl.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”
“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t fucking matter. Nothing fucking matters.” Darius turned on his heel and stormed out the doors, trudging toward the parking lot. Tristan followed, but his heart wasn’t in it.
He did have one more question, though.
“Why did he call you ‘Dizzy’?”
Darius snapped back around. In an instant he had Tristan pinned against the brick exterior wall, the length of his arm pressing harshly into his clavicle. If looks could kill, Tristan would be dead.
“Don’t you ever fucking call me that.” Darius growled.
Tristan raised his hands in surrender, terrified by the sudden outburst. “Okay! God! I’m sorry!”
Darius’ fury seared into him a second longer before he made a noise of disgust and abruptly pulled himself away.
“Goodbye, Tristan. Don’t talk to me again.” then he was gone.
***
It was a gorgeous autumn Saturday. What a waste. The trees around town were brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow so blindingly vivid in the sun that it was hard to believe they were real.
With hands in his pockets, Tristan shuffled down the sidewalk, absently kicking up piles of leaves that cluttered the pavement. He turned onto 9th street and made his way past the myriads of businesses that lined the block, paying them no mind. There was only one place that he cared about, and he was on a fool’s errand to it.
The intersection’s walk sign illuminated, but Tristan stopped in his tracks at the sight across the street. Sitting on a bench in front of the record store was the saddest blob of a person that he had ever seen: someone clad in all black had folded their knees up to their chest and buried their face in their hands.
No fucking way.
Hesitantly, Tristan approached, though he didn’t say anything in case he was wrong. It was just a coincidence... It had to be. Darius had told him to fuck off and leave him alone; he wouldn’t have actually shown up after all of that… right? This had to be some other mopey goth kid.
… But it was 2:17. Tristan had every intention of getting to the shop at 2:00 like they had agreed on, but after the events of the previous night, it seemed pointless. Why rush? There was no reason to stick to a schedule when it had clearly turned into a solo trip.
… Yet there was Darius all the same.
The blob sniffled.
Oh…
Quietly, Tristan cleared his throat once, then coughed a little louder a second time.
“Uh…”
Darius gasped but held his position for a minute longer before he slowly peeked through his fingers. Heavy makeup covered his black eye, but no amount of it could disguise the despondent expression on his face.
“Why the fuck are you here?” he asked miserably.
Tristan huffed. “It’s nice to see you, too. We had a meeting set, remember?”
Obviously, Darius did.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Darius sniffed again and rubbed his eyes, trying to pull himself together.
“Why did you come?”
Tristan crossed his arms. “It’s a nice day. I wanted to go for a walk.”
But it was dumb to lie, especially to a guy who had trust issues.
“… Or maybe I’m stubborn.” he admitted “Maybe I held some stupid hope that you’d be here, despite everything. Why did you come?”
Darius straightened slightly. Unfocused, puffy eyes stared ahead at nothing as he took a shaky breath.
“Maybe I…” he had to swallow a lump in his throat. “Maybe I held some stupid hope that you’d be here, too.” he swiped away a tear, looking scornful that it had betrayed him by falling in the first place.
“… I’m sorry I attacked you last night.” he muttered.
Tristan shifted awkwardly. “It’s okay.”
He wasn’t sure that it actually was okay, but he recognized that he had overstepped Darius’ boundaries, even if it had been on accident. He shouldn’t have pried, especially when it came to the sensitive subject of bullies.
Darius massaged his temple and closed his eyes.
“‘Dizzy’ is what Lazlo calls me.” he explained. “‘Darius Astor, walking disaster’ – that’s what he used to say. He shortened it to ‘Dizz Astor’ after a while, then to just ‘Dizzy’.” he lowered his head and his long raven hair flopped in his face, obscuring it from view. “I know it’s just a stupid nickname, but it hurts, you know? I didn’t want someone else picking it up.”
Tristan nodded, guilt knotting in his stomach. “I’m sure it does hurt. I’m sorry. I never would have asked had I known. People are cruel…”
Darius shook his head. “Lazlo’s cruel. Everyone else is just mean.”
He breathed a knowing sigh.
“… and that Includes me. I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you, yet you’re still here.” he turned and finally looked at Tristan, who nonchalantly leaned on the back of the bench.
“Yeah, I am. And I stand by what I said before: everyone deserves a friend.”
Darius scoffed. “A friend wouldn’t treat someone the way I’ve treated you.”
“You stuck out your neck to protect me. I’d say that’s pretty noble. Thank you.”
“Hm…”
Gingerly, Tristan held out his hand. “Hey, if it bothers you so much, we can start over. Hi, my name’s Tristan. What’s yours?”
Darius blinked, then pushed his hand away.
“What you’re doing is social suicide. Don’t you get that? You’re going to get hurt.”
Tristan shrugged.
“High school’s not forever. Besides, it’ll take more than a few stupid rumors or threats from bullies to get under my skin. This isn’t my first rodeo.” he lightly rapped a knuckle on Darius’ shoulder. “I know what it’s like to feel alone, but you don’t have to.”
Darius cast his gaze to the sidewalk and ruminated on those words.
“No one has ever like… stayed. Are you sure you wanna be the first?”
Tristan put a finger on his chin in thought.
“That depends on your CD recommendations. If they suck, I might have to reconsider.”
Darius’ eyes blew wide. He whirled around to read Tristan’s expression, shocked and scared. But Tristan was smiling cheekily back at him. A real, genuine smile, like someone who cared.
Like a friend.
It took a moment for the fright to dissolve, but once he realized that Tristan was joking, Darius broke into a nervous laugh that slowly eased into the real thing.
“Alright, fuck you, Corndet. I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.” there was no malice in his tone; he was flirting with friendly sarcasm. Somehow, that felt right.
Darius rose from the bench and ran a hand through his flowing black mane, adjusting himself so everything laid perfectly once more. When he finished preening, he was back to the glamorous, fierce, elegant look that he normally presented himself with. Maybe it was Tristan’s imagination, but Darius seemed to hold his head just a little bit higher as he approached him. He peered at him through thick lashes.
“Look, I can’t promise you that I’ll be good at this friendship thing, but I really want to try.” Darius hesitated, graciously giving Tristan one final out.
“Are you sure you want this?”
Tristan nodded and took it one step further by issuing him a challenge:
“Yes. If you trust me.”
Relief washed over Darius’ being, as if the final piece of his long-standing defensive wall had just come tumbling down. His face melted into a smile, his brown eyes shining with a daring new hope in the afternoon light.
“In that case…”
He stuck out his hand, ready to shake.
“I’m Darius. It’s nice to meet you.”
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Thank you again to @risahraun for beta-reading! <3
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