Rating: PG 13
Word Count: 4354
Summary: David Desrosiers isn't your typical sixteen year old boy living in Juneau, Alaska. Bullied relentlessly by Pierre Bouvier, a boy he's known since elementary school, David and his best friend Jenny come up with a back-handed plan to seek revenge on the boy who makes their lives a living Hell.
Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, didn't happen!
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this one! I try to get them posted before work but sometimes I run out of time. Love me anyway? :D
Things with Jenny had been a little bit shaky over the days following the first hockey game of the season, and though David had explained everything to her about the scout, and though she said that she understood and that it was fine, David could tell that his relationship with his best friend no longer stood on steady ground. Over and over he would remind her that his infiltration of the hockey team was what she had wanted, that he was just going along with her plan to seek vengeance. Jenny's assertions that she wasn't upset with him did nothing to quell David's guilt, nor the feeling that she wasn't being honest with him about how all of it was making her feel. He had come to know his best friend better than anyone else on the planet over the last several years, even more so than his own father. David knew that Jenny wasn't alright, no matter what she said.
And then there was that part of David that was defensive about the whole thing and his role in it. He wouldn't say it to her, but the argument that she was only using him to get what she wanted had popped into his mind on more than one occasion when the girl was treating him a little less than kindly. He had done what she wanted, after all, what reason did she honestly have to be angry with him? It wasn't her time being eaten up by training and practice, it was his. It wasn't her body that was being torn to hell and sculpted into a piece of athletic equipment, it was his. She wasn't the one that had to spend day in and day out with the monster who had tormented her since childhood, he was. After everything he had put himself through for her sake, who was she to be angry at him for any of it? No, he would never say any of that to her.
Weeks went by, weeks of victorious hockey games, of time spent working out in the morning, practicing in the evening and hanging out with his teammates at night. At first, David had done everything in his power to try and make time for his best friend, but with her cold behavior toward him—despite her insistence that she wasn't angry with him at all—made it hard for David to even want to spend time around her anymore. Soon friends who had spent every day together were beginning to feel much more like acquaintances, and the teammates who had made his life a living hell ever since he could remember were starting to feel something like friends. He told himself repeatedly that these boys weren't his friends and that no matter what it took, he couldn't let himself forget it, but with each victory on the rink, and each team celebration that followed, David found himself letting his guard down a little bit more.
Shutting his locker with a soft click, David stopped and turned on the spot, his eyes surveying the many backs and faces around him for the girl with whom he had become so distant as of late. Her frizzy red hair and zebra striped skinny jeans were recognizable anywhere, but once he spotted her, David found himself hesitating. Things with her had become so awkward, he felt that he didn't even know how to go over and say hello to her anymore; that was probably the most painful part of the whole experience for him. With a sigh, he heaved his messenger bag onto his shoulder and made his way over to her, looking cautious and awkward at the same time.
“Hey,” he called softly to her.
Jenny glanced in David's direction, though she didn't spare a second look before continuing to deposit the things she didn't need into her locker and pulling out the books that she did. “Don't you have some puckheads to hang out with?” she spit at him without so much as a hint of a smile.
“Jen,” David started, but Jenny slammed her locker shut, effectively cutting him off.
“No, you know what? Don't worry about it,” Jenny said with a shake of her head, before turning to walk away from him.
“I'm doing this for you!” David called after her, catching the attention of several people around them. “Or did you forget that part?”
Jenny turned back toward David, the usual pink in her cheeks traded in for a brilliant shade of red. “Ya know, David, I think you're the one that forgot that,” she responded, her voice much more subdued than his had been.
“I'm just trying to do what you wanted me to,” David argued, attempting to keep his voice down now. The last thing he needed was for their argument to be overheard and for him to have the entire hockey team coming after him.
“You were supposed to get on the team and throw a game, David. A game. One. That was it,” Jenny spat back, leaning close and whispering now so as to not be overheard.
“Yeah, well, things didn't pan out the way they were supposed to so I improvised! Did you want me to just throw in the towel after that first game? Just give up? I thought this was what you wanted, to make Pierre Bouvier pay! Do you think I like waking up at four thirty in the morning to run? Do you think I like spending all my time with a bunch of ignorant teenage guys who smell like feet and have spent the last ten years of my life calling me a fairy and a faggot? I don't, but I do it for you!” Though each word was spoken in a heated whisper, it didn't make the things he said any less powerful.
For a moment, Jenny seemed stumped and she stared at the ground, her teeth grit and her cheeks burning red. Then she shook her head and looked back at him with a renewed look of indignation. “Practice, okay. I get that you have to spend a lot of your time training and practicing. But who did you hang out with last night? Whose party did you go to last weekend? Who did you eat lunch with today? You aren't just practicing, or playing games. You're hanging out with these people. You don't have to do that. You don't have to be their friends. But you want to. You're finally part of the in-crowd. You've finally been accepted by the popular kids, and it feels good, doesn't it?”
“I knew it,” David muttered, shaking his head slowly with a look of dumbfounded realization. Jenny just stared at David, looking awkward and uncomfortable. “This whole time you've been saying it's fine, and it's not. I knew you were mad, I knew you felt betrayed... but I can see it now. It's more than just that.” There was a long moment when the two simply stared at each other, David trying his hardest to bite back the to words he knew he would regret saying, though they both knew what he was thinking: you're jealous.
“Hey David!” Pierre's voice came from behind, and just like that, the awkward tension was broken. David turned to look at Pierre, trying his hardest to hide the fact that he was upset, though it showed clearly on his face. He looked back at Jenny only to find that in the split second he had been looking away, she took that as an opportune moment to get away. He watched her walking away, his brow furrowed and a frown on his lips. It wasn't until he felt a sharp sting in the back of his head that it occurred to him that Pierre had still been talking to him. “Dude, are you retarded?” Pierre asked meanly, while David shot him a glare and rubbed the back of his head.
“Fuck you,” David replied without even thinking about it, though immediately his word choice stuck out as uncharacteristic for him. If there was one thing that could be said about David Desrosiers, it was that he never swore. Maybe he really had changed.
“Jeez, no need to get your panties in a bunch,” Pierre replied indignantly.
“What do you want, Pierre?” David asked tensely, dropping the hand from the back of his head and instead turning to face Pierre with a glare that screamed irritation.
“You're coming on the ski resort trip this weekend, right?” Pierre asked, dropping all hostilities as if the two were friends. After all that time, David still didn't know what to think of the other boy. One second he was picking on him, calling him retarded or gay, and the next he acted as if he was just one of the guys. Through it all, the younger boy just couldn't decide of the senior actually liked him or not.
“Oh, um... I dunno,” David replied awkwardly, turning his attention to the wall of lockers for something else to look at. It was the last day of school before winter vacation, and every year during that time, the school hockey team took a trip to a ski resort across the Canadian border. It was the coach's way of rewarding the team for all of their hard work thus far in the season, a week in which they were expected to do nothing but relax and enjoy themselves before commencing the school year and the last several weeks of the hockey season. Now that he was, in fact, a part of the team, David supposed it made sense that he would be invited to go, but he didn't really like the idea of going on vacation with the boys he had sworn were enemies.
“Seriously? What else are you gonna do? Sit at home and study all week?” Pierre argued, an eyebrow arched in skepticism.
David seemed to think about it, trying to come up with a viable excuse for not being able to go, but he knew he had nothing and he knew Pierre knew it too. “Yeah, I guess I can go,” he replied hesitantly, as if he didn't want to be agreeing at all but couldn't see another way out of it. For whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to say that he didn't want to. Maybe it was because of that part of him that honestly did want to.
“That's the spirit!” Pierre exclaimed with a smile and a few hearty pats on the shoulder. David swayed a little under his strength, though he could tell that his body had gotten stronger in the past several weeks of training and conditioning. “Okay, it's gonna be me, you, Josh and Mark in my car. We're heading out tomorrow morning at nine am, so be ready or I'm leaving without you.” And just like that, he turned around and walked away, leaving David more stumped than he had been at initially receiving the invitation. He just didn't know what to think of Pierre anymore. With that final thought, he shook his head and headed to his next class, dreading the coming weekend just as much as he was looking forward to it.
The next morning, David was glad for the opportunity to sleep in for the first time in two months... even if it was only until eight thirty in the morning. An extra four hours of sleep was much welcomed, despite the early hour. He showered and dressed, wearing a pair of skinny jeans, black vans, a short sleeved t-shirt and a cardigan, though he threw on a heavy winter jacket to be on the safe side. He knew he wouldn't need it when he was in Pierre's car, but the idea of going into Canada with nothing but a thin cardigan in the middle of winter seemed a little less than thought out to him.
When Pierre texted David that he was there, David grabbed the bag he had packed the night before and made his way outside, taking care to turn off lights and lock the door on his way. David walked immediately to the back door on the passenger side, assuming that one of Pierre's other friends would be sitting up front with him, but his hand didn't touch the handle before he realized that Pierre was alone, and instead he pulled open the front passenger side door and got in, squishing his bag by his feet.
“Might as well put it in the backseat,” Pierre told him, not bothering to greet him in any sort of friendly manner.
David's eyebrows pulled together and he regarded Pierre skeptically. “What about Josh and Mark?”
Pierre shook his head in response and reached over, taking David's bag and throwing it in the backseat for him. “Josh got a ride with coach and Mark got busted smoking weed so he's off the team and he's grounded,” he explained as he pulled out of David's driveway and began down the road.
“Holy crap,” David muttered, unsure of what to say to the news of one of their teammates being thrown off the team.
Pierre merely shrugged and turned on the radio. “Whatever. It's his own fault for smoking pot in the first place.”
“I suppose so,” David agreed quietly.
After those words were spoken, David and Pierre rode in silence for hours. Occasionally they would pass a cool car and Pierre would point it out to him, or David would mention something scenically that they drove by, but for the most part they didn't speak. David found himself glad for the musical relief. Without the radio playing, they might have just rode in perfect silence, and that sounded horribly awkward and not at all like something he would have liked to do. He supposed that he could have tried to have a real conversation with the older boy, but his mind kept asking him what he would say and reminding him that the two weren't friends, and thus continued the silent spell that had fallen over them.
It was just over eleven hours into the drive when the radio began to crackle. David looked up from his phone, staring for a moment at the radio as it faded in and out of service. He was on the verge of asking what was wrong with it when he glanced up at the road, and suddenly his question was answered for him. His eyes widened and he looked all around, realizing for the first time just how hard it had started to snow. Large flakes were falling in thick patches from the sky, blowing so fast over the windshield that it made David start to feel mesmerized, and maybe if it wasn't for the fact that the road was completely snowed over, he might have let it happen.
“Uhhh...” David started, the discomfort obvious in his voice.
“What?” Pierre replied, sounding immediately defensive.
“Should we like... pull over or something?” David asked nervously, his eyes flicking from Pierre's darkened face to the field of white in front of them.
“Dude, relax,” Pierre told him. “I've got this.”
David wanted to be reassured by Pierre's words but the feel of the car sliding this way and that made his stomach churn and his heart pound. He wanted to distract himself, but he couldn't manage to peel his eyes from the road long enough to think of anything other than their imminent death.
“Pierre, I think there's something in the road,” David said suddenly, his body tensing up and his hands gripping at the seat.
“There's nothing out there but snow and road!” Pierre shot him down, shooting a glare in David's direction, clearly frustrated by his side-seat-driving.
“I swear! There's something in the road!” David argued, getting more tense by the second. Almost as if to spite him, Pierre sped up, staring at David as he drove forward. “Are you crazy?!” David yelled, his body pressed so hard into the seat it was a miracle he hadn't shoved through it yet.
“Calm down, you fucking pussy!” Pierre taunted him. “I can drive just fi—”
The feel of the car running into something and the sound of a loud crash cut Pierre's words short, though the scream David gave would have drowned out the rest of the other boy's words even if he had been able to finish them. They bounced and spun in a nearly complete circle before sliding into the ditch on the side of the road and bumping to a stop against the bottom. For a long moment, neither boy moved or said anything. The only sounds audible were their ragged breaths, both clearly shocked into stillness.
“You okay?” Pierre asked breathlessly, his voice uncharacteristically soft. David couldn't seem to make words come out of his mouth so he merely nodded, though it was obvious that he was shaken to his core by what had just happened. “Stay here,” Pierre continued, before getting out of the car and disappearing into the heavily falling snow. David craned his neck around to watch after the other boy, though as soon as he was behind the car, he lost sight of him. In that moment, it didn't occur to David to be angry with Pierre, or to yell at him for driving like a maniac, or for not listening to him. Instead, he felt strangely dependent on him, like Pierre was going to come back to the car with answers and everything was going to be okay.
When the car door opened and Pierre ducked back into the car, closing the door behind him, David stared at him with wide, expectant eyes, as if waiting for Pierre to tell him what they were going to do. “Well, we're stuck,” Pierre said unhelpfully, and he pulled out his cell phone and tried to make a call, though he had no reception and with an irritated growl, he put his phone back in his pocket. “Great,” he muttered, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.
“So... What do we do now?” David asked quietly.
Pierre shook his head, his head still leaned back and his eyes still closed; it wasn't hard to see that he felt completely defeated. “We can't do anything until morning,” he said quietly. “If we try to find help tonight, we'll probably just get lost and freeze to death.”
David bit down on his bottom lip and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling suddenly colder, as if the prospect of spending all night in a car surrounded by snow made the temperature drop. Pierre's eyes opened and he looked over at David, regarding him for a moment, before shaking his head and sighing.
“I'm sorry,” Pierre told him, staring into David's hazel eyes, and though he knew he didn't have a reason to, David couldn't help but believe that he meant it. David shook his head and looked down, but Pierre wasn't having it. “No, this is my fault. You tried to tell me and I didn't listen.”
David wanted to tell him that it was alright, but somehow he knew that Pierre would only continue to apologize so he decided to stay quiet. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself, sure now that he wasn't imagining the cold. He could feel it seeping into the car through doors, the vents, and even the window felt cold to him. As the two sat there, not speaking, the car seemed to get colder with each passing minute. By the time twenty minutes had gone by, David was positively shivering and Pierre seemed unusually stiff.
“T-t-th-this s-s-sucks,” David stuttered out in a whisper, shivering hard and holding onto his torso so tightly that his fingers digging into his sides were beginning to get sore.
Pierre tried to turn the car on, hoping that they could at least run it every so often for a little bit of heat, but no matter how many times he tried to turn the key, or pump the gas pedal, the engine refused to turn over. After a few minutes of trying, he sighed and turned the car off again, his eyes moving to David, who looked pathetic and tiny and quite literally freezing. Then, he opened his door a little, gave a soft, “Come on,” and got out of the car.
David's brow furrowed and he watched as Pierre got into the back seat, and closed the door, staring expectantly at David. “Do you wanna freeze to death?” Pierre asked defensively, and with a shake of his head and a defeated sigh, David got out of the car and got into the backseat, sitting awkwardly close to the other boy. There were a few minutes when the two simply looked at each other and looked away, as if they didn't know how to continue, though they both knew where they needed to end up.
Just when David was starting to believe that maybe he had misunderstood what Pierre had meant, he felt an arm wrap around his shoulder timidly. David's chest constricted uncomfortably and his body flushed with heat, a feeling which only intensified when Pierre pulled him against his chest and wrapped his other arm around him. David grabbed his winter jacket off of the floor board and draped it across the two of them, feeling his warmth blossom under the jacket almost instantaneously.
“Tell anyone about this and you're dead,” Pierre threatened, and David could do nothing but nod his head against Pierre's chest in response. He felt Pierre lean back and pull David to a more comfortable position, though they were still cramped in the backseat. Having nowhere for their legs, both boys were forced to bend their knees and scrunch up, causing their legs to tangle in a way that could have been considered intimate to an outsider looking in... but of course it wasn't intimate in the slightest. And the butterflies in his stomach meant nothing at all. And the fact that Pierre's fingers gingerly touching David's shoulder made David's heart skip a beat, it was nothing. David closed his eyes and willed it all away, refusing to think about it. Pierre was his enemy.
“What happened to your mom?” Pierre asked out of nowhere, surprising David so much that for a few seconds, he didn't know how to respond.
“M-my mom?” he asked, his voice sounding dry and unusued.
“Yeah. You said your dad's a commercial fisherman... but where's your mom?” Pierre asked again, his fingers making slow, light circles against David's shoulder; David didn't know if the other boy realized he was doing it or not. “She's never around when we're studying or anything.”
“O-oh... Um... S-she's... She's dead,” David explained, the wound feeling fresh in his chest, and for a moment he wasn't thinking about Pierre's body against his, or the way it was making his own body feel. He felt tears prickling in his eyes and he tensed up, willing the tears to go away, not wanting to cry in front of Pierre in the slightest. To his astonishment, Pierre's hand grasped firmly onto his shoulder, as if he was trying to comfort him; perhaps the strangest part about this action was that it was actually working.
“Hey,” Pierre said softly, shaking David's shoulder gently.
David blinked his eyes and propped himself up against Pierre's chest, looking down at him with sad eyes and biting down on his bottom lip nervously. Pierre stared back up at him, and suddenly David found himself admiring just how gorgeous the other boy's eyes were. They were deep, like pools of chocolate and he couldn't help but get lost in them for a moment; maybe that had something to do with how tenderly Pierre was looking back at him.
“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I didn't think,” Pierre apologized for the second time that night, making David's chest feel warm and softer than usual. And then Pierre did something that David wouldn't have expected. His eyes flashed down to look at David's lips and—almost as if he couldn't help it—he wet his own lips ever so slightly. David blushed and stopped breathing, the squeezing in his chest only getting worse at the feel of Pierre's hand moving from his shoulder to the back of his neck instead. And then he did it again, looked down at David's lips, and David felt himself begin to panic.
He didn't see him move closer, but somehow he felt Pierre's nose brush gently against his own. He didn't know which urge was stronger: the urge to run or the urge to lean down and kiss the older boy. Instead he settled on neither and moved his head to the side, resting the side of his face in the crook of Pierre's neck and squeezing his eyes shut tight. What the hell had just happened? Had Pierre seriously just wanted to kiss him? And had he seriously thought about kissing him back?
“Don't worry about it,” David replied to Pierre's apology, if only for the sake of having a tension-breaker.
Feeling Pierre nod against the top of his head, David opened his eyes and stared unseeingly at the other boy's neck, feeling his own warm breath coming back at him off of the older boy's skin. Neither boy spoke another word for the rest of the night, though it was sometime before either one of them fell asleep. By the time he was drifting into sleep, David had convinced himself that he had just been imagining things and he pushed it from his mind. If anything was certain, it was that Pierre Bouvier did not have feelings for him, just like he did not have feelings for him.