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Deus Ex Machina; NSFW
Topic Started: Sep 25 2010, 02:37 PM (341 Views)
Gareth Twain
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"This is such bullshit ," Gare threw down his quill in frustration, frowning irritably at his Care of Magical Creatures assignment – What were the seven uses for Occamy excrements? – thinking that he surely had better things to do than try and look up what disgusting shit could be done with snake-shit. Occamies are fascinating creatures, resembling winged snakes and laying pure silver eggs, but instead of giving them an assignment delving into the mythology of it, they got an assignment on the bloody thing’s excrements.

He heard people entering the Common Room, the sound of the door opening pulling him out of his frustrated musings. Hoping it was at least someone he knew and could distract him, he noticed with rising aggravation that it was indeed someone he knew, but not someone he particularly wanted in the Common Room when there was no one else around.

Axel and three of his cronies, Hugh, Anthony and Derrek.

The prospect of having to look up uses for excrements suddenly seemed like the better one. Sadly enough, it was too late to beat a hasty retreat – which in this situation seemed like the better option than stick around and try to get a rise out of the bigoted Slytherin – because Axel had already spotted him, turning to face him with his three friends standing behind him in a half-circle.

All four of them giving him the same malicious, twisted grin that had Gare suddenly realizing he was in really big trouble.

He was alone with a person who was not only known for his rather sadistic streak and cunning cruelty, but also out for his blood – backed up by three friends no less, while Gareth had no one watching his back. Just like Axel had said last time they’d crossed paths.

There was no Jace or no Nicho this time.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our favourite little poufter,” Axel sneered, closing in on Gare who’d already had his hand curled around his wand, gaze steady and sharp, trained on the four boys standing around him right now. “All alone and vulnerable.” Gareth ignored Hugh, Anthony and Derrek grinning down at him menacingly, standing way too close for comfort, eyes on Axel only. Axel was the most dangerous one of the bunch, so he was the one that mattered right now. “Give me a one on one fight and I’ll show you how vulnerable I really am. Or are you afraid?” Gare shot back in an icy tone – if Axel decided to take on Gare with his friends, there was no way he was going to come out of it unscathed. A duel with only Axel would be the best way out – providing the boy took the bait.

Turned out he wouldn’t.

Two wands were suddenly pointed at him, Hugh and Anthony having drawn them while Derrek still stood at Axel’s left shoulder. His wand was snatched out of his fingers – trying to fight wouldn’t help much, Gare knew this perhaps better than others; Axel wasn’t someone shy of using a spell that was this close to an unforgivable if he tried. He’d survived other beatings before, he’d survive this one too, he thought. Jace wouldn’t exactly be pleased that it happened again, but whatever.

Seemed like that wasn’t exactly what Axel had in mind though.

“Heard rumours that you like sucking cock quite a lot and that you’re quite good at it too, Twain,” Axel stated conversationally, and warning bells suddenly rung in Gare’s mind. “Now as you well know, I’m not really one for letting parts of my body anywhere near your filthy mouth, but since I was quite curious still, I found a Chinese volunteer in Derrek over here,” Derrek’s smirk widened as he leered at Gareth, eyes raking over his body in a way that made Gare feel dirty, “and although you are a dirty faggot, he never could say no to a free blowjob. So, Twain, ready to suck some dick, hm?”

If there was one thing Gareth regretted doing at this point, it was having underestimated the lengths to which Axel would go to get back at him. He’d suspected a beating, or even being cursed seven ways to Sunday, but this? Gareth was left feeling suddenly very fucking terrified. He got up from his seating position at top speed, surprising Hugh and Anthony for only a brief second, as he started saying, “Like hell I…,” when suddenly someone kicked him in the back of the legs, making him drop to his knees rather harshly. A hand tangled in his hair and yanked his head back viciously, making Gare grit his teeth to keep in a cry.

Looking up at Axel with hate filled eyes, he hissed, “I’ll bite it off, I fucking swear.”

He only got a small relief from the look of discomfort suddenly blooming on Derrek’s pasty features. Then he suddenly had Axel in his face, wand digging painfully under his chin as the hand in his hair tightened and his arm got twisted behind his back to prevent him from moving. “You won’t,” Axel stated, a slight purr in his voice that made Gare feel nauseous.

With nowhere left to go, Gare just went with the last thing he could still think off – no matter what happened, he could still have the fucking upper hand in that. “I never took you for such a sick little pervert,” Gare said in a taunting tone – despite feeling scared beyond belief, he still had his fucking pride. He wasn’t going to beg – “watching how one of your friends is going to get his dick sucked by another boy. I bet you are going to wish it was you I was sucking instead. I bet you are going to fucking enjoy it for all the wrong reasons,” Gare’s eyes shone with hatred as he dealt the last blow – not caring that it would probably cost him even more than it was already costing him now. “Faggot.”

It had worked. The smirk left Axel’s features to be replaced by a savage anger as he grabbed Gare by the throat. “The only thing I am going to enjoy is your utter humiliation,” the boy hissed, face twisted.

Gare had never hoped so much as now for someone, anyone to come in – most people were outside enjoying the warm weather or had classes, though. And as Derrek advanced on him, there was only one thing he could think.

He was utterly, seriously fucked.
Edited by Gareth Twain, Sep 26 2010, 02:28 AM.
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Nicholas Diederik
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For several weeks, Nicho had promised Hestia that he would help her with her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. She was preparing to take her first exam in the class since the professor had informed her that she lacked the ‘proper motor skills to both walk and talk at the same time, let alone perform a simple defense spell.’ Watching his little sister wibble and rabbit on about how she needed to be better at things so that Victoria didn’t call her ‘stupid’ when she went home for holidays had struck a chord with Nicho and he buckled under her pleas for help.

He couldn’t have his little sister at a disadvantage with Victoria, a brutal force of nature that liked to make Hestia’s life a living hell.

So, he spent his entire Friday evening with her in an abandoned classroom, attacking her with spell after spell, until she could properly fend him off. When he left, he was confident that she would, at least, be able to score a passable in the class. He’d teach her more over the holidays. Things that Grandfather had taught him.

Needless to say, he was exhausted and in no mood for the school’s bullshit. When approached in the hallway by Silas Matthews, trying to gain support in something that had to do with gelato and bikinis, he’d all but bit the bloke’s head off with well placed insults and a scathing tone. Didn’t faze Matthews, of course.

When he entered the common room, nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first. He removed his rucksack from over his shoulder and tossed it down on the floor next to the fire. His cozy armchair was uninhabited, which was a great change for a Friday night. Must have been the Hogsmeade weekend. Or the ridiculous amount of homework that was laid on the Slytherins for Sebastian Bancroft’s inability to pay attention in class.

But, he quickly realized that something was wrong when he heard a familiar voice uttered the word “faggot.” At first he tried to ignore it, thinking it was just another bickering fight between a homophobe and a gay bloke, but when his eyes fell to the sofa where Hugh, Axel and Derrek were standing, he noticed that there was another body. On his knees. By force.

“The only thing I am going to enjoy is your utter humiliation,” Axel hissed as his hand circled the boy‘s throat. The throat that belonged to Gareth.

“Open up, Twain.” Derrek’s raunchy laugh made Nicho’s skin crawl. A beast roared inside of Nicho when the gravity of the situation smashed into him full force. He literally felt both sick and furious at the same time.

With quiet footsteps, Nicho traveled the long length of the common room. Before he reached the group of blokes, he pulled his wand out of the inside pocket of his robes and held it offensively, just in case one of them realized that someone had come to spoil the party.

He reached them without trouble, but it was Gareth’s eyes that stopped him in his tracks. Derrek was standing in front of him, scrambling to unzip his trousers. Axel was staring down at Gareth with a wicked gleam in his eyes. His hand was still clenched around Gareth’s throat. Hugh had his wand pointed directly at Gareth’s temple. Something rolled through Nicho’s body, causing his hands to begin to shake.

He didn’t let his eye contact with Gareth end until he was absolutely sure that he had conveyed a silent message of promise to him. Promise that he was going to beat the ever loving piss out of the four assholes that had him on his knees.

Nicho raised his wand as his eyes darted first toward Hugh. The sound of his movement caused all four boys to finally know his presence. Axel laughed. “Another one to join in the fun, then? He can have Jarvey off.”

“Don’t fucking think so, you sick cunt,” Nicho murmured, his dark eyes daring Axel to attempt to take him on.

Jarvey had opened his mouth to say something, but it went unheard. Nicho had efficiently and silently cut him off with a slashing hex to the mouth. It spliced through the skin next to his lips, instantly making his words come out in a high-pitched string of curses. With him out of the way, Nicho turned his attention to Axel, Hugh and Derrek who were hovering even closer to Gareth.

Without missing a beat, Nicho flicked his wand. Another nonverbal spell collided with Hugh, knocking him off of his feet and propelling him straight into the cement wall behind him. Derrek’s eyes met his and Nicho smirked coldly before jutting his wand out in a swift movement. He immediately collapsed to the floor.

Axel, on the other hand, seemed to grasp Gareth’s throat tighter, judging by the way his face was straining to use so much force. Gareth’s face was starting to turn a very pale blue color. Nicho could have easily fired another spell at Axel, but instead, his brute instincts took over.

He tossed his wand to the floor, a loud growl coming from somewhere deep inside of him. In a flash, he jumped over the sofa and collided into Axel with a loud ‘thud,’ causing him them both to crash to the ground. It didn’t stop there.

Seeing what the other boys were about to do to Gareth had ignited something fierce within him. It spurred him on to raise his fist back and smash it mercilessly into Axel’s sharp jaw. And then again. And again. He was panting as he held the bloke by the collar and continued to pound him. His knuckles were sore and blood was beginning to splatter around them.

“Don’t you ever - ever,” he emphasized his point with another punch to Axel’s cheek, “fucking touch him again, you motherfucking piece of shite.”
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Gareth Twain
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Gareth had never felt so hopeless in his entire life – he was on his knees, in front of a group of guys that wanted to take advantage of him and as Derrek reached for his pants, he wanted to scream, to trash, to fight, but he didn’t want to give them the fucking satisfaction of showing that he was so fucking scared he was on the verge of a fucking panick attack. “Open up, Twain,” came Axel’s oily voice and Gare clenched his teeth on each other so hard he was afraid he was going to break them.

And that’s when he saw him approaching.

There was a god and his name was Nicholas Diederik.

The relief crashing through him was so huge, so overwhelming that he almost blacked out from it – although the lack of oxygen from Axel still squeezing his throat was probably the second reason he was seeing black spots. His shoulder was screaming in protest and his muscles were so cramped to keep from shaking, he was strained all over, but he didn’t notice anything except those eyes on his, promising murder.

Green had never looked so damn beautiful.

Nicho raised his wand towards Hugh and that’s when the rest noticed the addition to their party. “Another one to join in the fun, then? He can have Jarvey off.” Anthony leered as Axel laughed and Gare’s breath – as far as he still had it – hitched, now not only with panick for himself but for the other boy too.

Turns out he shouldn’t have worried. “Don’t fucking think so, you sick cunt,” came cold Nicho’s reply and before Gareth could process it, Anthony had backed off, screaming gibberish curses as his hands pawed at his cut lips, Hugh was against the wall, moaning and Derrek laid in a crumpled heap on the floor. Only Axel was left, face twisted in cold rage as his fingers tightened on Gareth’s throat, cutting off his entire air supply and Gare choked.

And then the hand was gone and Gare fell to the floor on his hands and knees now, gasping in huge breaths of air, his arms and legs shaking as he tried to get up again.

Nicho had Axel on the floor and was pounding him into oblivion, the sickening sounds of flesh hitting flesh cracking like gunshots through Gareth’s ears and as he looked up, seeing the fury on Nicho’s features, the blood already on his hands and the way he just wasn’t stopping, Gare realized he was going to have to stop Nicho before he killed Axel – even though Axel deserved it, god he did, it wasn’t worth it. The scumbag wasn’t worth it, not for Gareth.

Taking a deep breath, he got on his feet and launched himself towards Nicho, wrapping his arms around Nicho’s torso, pulling him off Axel. “Nicho, Nicho, stop it,” he yelled, ignoring his protesting throat, as the other boy tried getting out of his grip again. Gare lost his balance, still feeling shaky on his legs and fell onto his back, Nicho now on top of him.

Just as all the times where Jace had lost his temper – although it had probably never been quite as bad as this – Gare’s sole goal right now was to try and calm Nicho down again. Keeping one arm wrapped firmly around Nicho’s chest, he stroked shaky fingers through Nicho’s hair, mouth close to Nicho’s ear as he said in a low tone, “he’s not worth it, not for me. It’s okay, I’m okay, please, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Hugh and Anthony had gotten up again, Anthony still whimpering lightly and Hugh clutching a broken nose from his impact with the wall and they were both looking unsure about what to do – their leader was lying unconscious on the floor, face looking like raw meat, only the small gurgling breaths coming from his bloodied lips showing he was still alive. Derrek hadn’t woken up yet from whatever spell Nicho had shot at him. Gare relaxed his grip on Nicho, letting the other boy roll off him and he got up, eyes never leaving the two other Slytherins.

There were thousands of things he could’ve said, even a dozen more that he could’ve done, but he felt drained – tired beyond belief, mind still trying to deal with the fact what would’ve happened if Nicho hadn’t showed up. The thought made him feel sick. He was this close to just losing whatever amount of strength he still had in him and just curl up in a ball and weep.

So he did only one thing. Picking up his wand from the floor, he raised himself up again, trying to keep his breath and voice under control. “Get out,” he said in an icy voice. “Take these two with you and get the fuck out of my face,” they made no move to leave. Gare’s hand shook only slightly as he raised his wand at them. “Preferably before I decide to rip off your dicks and choke you with them,” his voice got a little louder, a little more raw.

It seemed to wake them up, at least as they scrambled to pick up Derrek and Axel.

As soon as they’d left, Gare’s wand dropped from his sudden nerveless hand and he started to shake, pressing the back of his hand against his lips to keep from bursting out in tears – even though he could not prevent a couple rolling down his cheeks. Taking a huge sobbing breath, he turned around, looking down at Nicho, before helping him up.

And then it seemed as if he couldn’t let go anymore, his fists clenched tightly into the front of Nicho’s robes, his forehead resting on Nicho’s collarbone, his breath hitching with every intake – a sign he was trying to keep from having a major freak out - the bruises on his throat burning, probably red and angry looking. “You’re hurt,” he breathed out at long last, eyes falling onto Nicho’s bruised knuckles and he unclenched one hand to reach down and wrap his fingers around Nicho’s hand tenderly.

He couldn’t help his sudden need to touch – as if trying to make sure Nicho was real, that he was really out of that situation where he’d been about to get raped for fuck’s sake. “I’m sorry.”
Edited by Gareth Twain, Sep 26 2010, 11:14 AM.
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Nicholas Diederik
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Nicho didn’t - no, couldn’t - stop swinging at Axel even after Gareth lifted him from the other Slytherin and demanded him to stop. He kept fighting, blinded by the rage that was white hot and slashing through his body. The moment that they toppled to the floor was the first break from a chain of violent, murderous thoughts that were thrumming through his mind.

His body was trembling, breaths coming out in angry spurts, as he gazed down into Gareth’s blue eyes. At the moment, it did little to calm him. He made to shove off of him, to go and land a few extra wailings on Axel, but Gareth had his arm locked securely around his body, making sure he couldn’t move.

He heard words in his ear, soft and consoling. It did something to him. Blanketed a darkness that Nicho was having a difficult time controlling. “He’s not worth it, not for me. It’s okay, I’m okay, please, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Every caress of Gareth’s fingers through his hair gave him another beat between racing breaths. He was calming down slowly. For a moment, he questioned Gareth’s judgment when he let his hold relax. And that was how he knew that he was calm enough to push himself away from Gareth. He’d never relied on another person so heavily.

When he laid with his back on the floor, eyes searching the endless gray ceiling, he vaguely paid attention to the interaction between his housemates. “Get out. Take these two with you and get the fuck out of my face.”

Lifting his hand up to his face, he scrutinized the way Axel’s blood mixed against his pale skin. It felt dirty just to have it on there. There was a tender ache between his knuckles. A feeling he wasn’t used to. The twinge of malice he had desperately tried to drown out in himself.

He was more afraid of himself than what he had witnessed. Gareth’s almost rape fled his mind as he surveyed his bruising hand. What had he almost done? And for what? How quickly had those dark feelings taken hold? How easily would it happen again now that he knew what they were capable of?

And then Gareth’s hand was in his, lifting him to his feet. Nicho stared at him, sedated from the lack of adrenaline. Like someone had siphoned out all of his energy and replaced it with lead. He felt heavy from head to toe. Even as Gareth began to sob, the most he could make himself do to comfort the boy was place his good hand on his shoulder. Just to let him know that he was there. If he could do nothing else, he was there.

“You’re hurt,” he heard Gareth say in a gruff breath.

“It’s nothing,” Nicho lied effortlessly.

He hissed as Gareth’s hand wrapped around his own. The only knowledge he could cling to was that his hand wasn’t broken. Sore, but not fractured. The burn beneath his skin began to ebb slowly. He steeled his eyes against the intrusion of brilliant blue.

A realization crashed into him, rather uninvited. He’d do it again.

“I’m sorry.”

Nicho tsk’d shortly and minimally pursed his lips. Lightly pulling his hand from Gareth’s, he moved it up to the boy’s chin and gripped it between his thumb and forefinger. Everything in those watery eyes told him how terrified Gareth had been.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he said without hesitation, his eyes flickering over the puffy red skin around his face.

It was strange how comfortable it felt to have contact with him. He didn’t feel the urge to recoil. To turn and leave. If nothing else, he wanted to stay, to make sure that whatever episodic panic Gareth went through was with someone that could understand.

He softly took a hold of Gareth’s elbow and guided him to the emerald green armchair by the fire. Forcing him into the seat, Nicho kneeled in front of him and reached around to grab his rucksack. Inside, he had a paste that he’d used while on Hestia when she was stung by a few of his hexes.

It smelled rank, but it would remove the blemishes that were left by Axel’s hand. Tiny crescent shaped marks were on either side of his throat. He could do nothing for the psychological damage, but he could at least make it so that he wouldn’t have to explain the situation to anyone.

Dipping two of his fingers into the paste, he held his breath and glanced with a tilted head back to Gareth. “Might want to look away for this, mate. Plug your nose or something.”

It was homemade, but it did the trick. He smeared it liberally on Gareth’s neck, paying particular attention to the little scrape marks that had been left by Axel’s fingers. It was hard to push down his murderous feelings as he was caring for Gareth’s wounds. Each time he saw a line of red marks, he had to reschool his eyes to remain blank.

When he was finished, he wiped his hand off on his knee and sat back on his heels. Whatever the protocol was - go up to his dorm and leave Gareth to privacy, or sit and ask him questions about what happened - Nicho wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his gut was twisted in the most nauseating of ways as he watched the paste on Gareth’s neck slowly absorb into his skin. The bruises and scratches were disappearing.

For that, and so much more, he was relieved.
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Gareth Twain
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His hand dropped uselessly to his side as Nicho pulled his one back and he looked up almost reluctantly, those two fingers lifting his chin somehow managing to make the damn lump in his throat grow bigger. Yet there was no accusation in those green eyes at the fact that it had been his sarcastic mouth that had gotten them into this shit in the first place. Well, Gareth. Nicho had simply been there at the wrong time.

Or the perfectly right time, as it were.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” came the reply – no hesitation in Nicho’s tone, none of the anger he’d displayed not barely ten minutes ago to be detected. Gare finally unclenched his other hand, releasing his death grip on Nicho’s robes as a gentle hand at his elbow steered him towards the couch and pushed him down onto it.

Looking down as Nicho knelt down in front of him, rummaging in his bag, something occurred to Gareth: Nicho’s reaction, the fury he had displayed, the absolute murder he’d seen on the boy’s face when confronted with Axel – for someone who’d only talked to him once before, such an extreme reaction was unexpected. Nicho had reacted the way Jace would’ve done, but Jace had known him his entire life already and they were close as brothers. Which made him ask himself the question: Why had Nicho reacted that way?

Would Gareth have reacted the same way had their positions been reversed?

The way his fingers clenched into fists at the thought made him guess that yes, he would have. Which made him think this was somehow more than just a simple little crush – but that only made the question of why Nicho had reacted that way that more confusing.

And it scared him, but on the other hand he also felt elated.

That could also be shock, though.

“Might want to look away for this, mate. Plug your nose or something.” Blinking, Gareth got pulled from his thoughts and stared silently down at Nicho who had his fingers dipped in some kind of paste with a rather dubious smell. Instead of looking away or indeed doing anything the other boy had suggested he should, though, he simply kept on looking at the other boy, sighing quietly as the paste took away the burn almost immediately – and with it also all the marks. Nicho had given him a way out of having to tell people what the hell had happened for him to have the imprint of a hand on his throat and for a moment he felt so damn grateful, he simply wanted to pull the other boy close and snog him.

Gareth blamed that urge on the shock too.

It didn’t stop him from blurting such a heartfelt “thank you,” it would’ve made even the most benevolent person blush. “If you hadn’t shown up, I… They would have…,” he bit his bottom lip and lifted a shaking hand to his throat. “Probably not only Derrek either,” he added in a small voice. “God, I can’t even…,” he took a deep breath, almost letting out a choked laugh when he could do so without it hurting everywhere and his eyes, that had been trailing all over the room, looking everywhere but to the boy in front of him while he’d been talking, locked onto Nicho’s once again. “You can’t imagine the relief I felt when I saw you – in that moment you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on,” he managed a watery smile at the cheesy sentiment.

Didn’t make it any less true, though. The thought of what would have happened if Nicho’s timing had been not quite so perfect – if Nicho would’ve walked in just ten minutes later, seeing it or if he hadn’t shown up at all. It made Gareth feel like being very violently ill.

His gaze dropped down to the floor – somehow, his wand had ended up rolling towards the couch – he bent down to pick it up and pointed it at Nicho’s bruised hand, healing it wordlessly.

He’d gotten well acquainted with healing spells over the past year – this was probably the least he could do.

Nicho moved and without even consciously thinking about it, Gare’s hand shot out and clamped onto Nicho’s arm. “Don’t go. Please.” Gare didn’t even know if it had been Nicho’s intention to leave in the first place – being alone right now was the last thing he wanted.

Or in other words, the thought of Nicho leaving him alone, even though more people seemed to have come into the Common Room without either of them even noticing, no one actually noticing them as they sat in a secluded corner, made him feel that small sliver of panick again.

He could’ve gone to find Jace – his best friend would definitely give him all the comfort he somehow so desperately needed right now – but somehow the thought didn’t cross his mind. There was only Nicho there right now.

Still, perhaps Nicho didn’t want to stay. He couldn’t help it if Gare felt like a needy nancy right now – he definitely had no obligation to stay. Didn’t make Gare want it any less, though – the realization made a slight flush appear on his cheeks. “Just for a little while,” he added silently, forcing himself to relax his grip on Nicho’s arm and shift a little to make place on the couch.

Nicho’s warmth next to him gave him chance to relax and finally let go of the fear – everything was far from okay, but at least it hadn’t gotten that bad. Nothing had happened, beside getting half choked to death and that was still ten times better than having to blow someone without wanting to. “The worst thing,” he spoke, slowly, “was not the idea of having to do that. It was the thought of him watching it and probably getting off on it too. That utter fucking humiliation he would’ve made me feel – I would’ve probably never been able to look him in the eye again. Now, though,” his voice got steely, “next time I see him, I’ll make him suck Derrek’s dick and make sure he chokes in it.”
Edited by Gareth Twain, Sep 28 2010, 01:42 PM.
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Having as many siblings as he did, Nicho couldn't help that his instincts leaned toward nurturing. He wasn't a healer by any means, but when he put in the effort, he could cook up things that would take away the sting of hex or the soreness of a bruise. Especially because whenever the Diederik children fought, it surely meant they'd be grounded. Nicho took it upon himself to make sure that, from a physical perspective, it never looked as though they battled each other when their parents weren't looking.

But unlike what he felt when he took care of his kin, Nicho felt oddly protective of Gareth and his reputation. If someone had noticed the purple welts and red fingernail scrapes on his beautiful skin, questions would be raised that no one should be forced to answer. It was the only reason, he told himself, that he paid such particular care to Gareth. The reason why he hung around to make sure that he was stable, that he was taken care of.

The genuine gratitude that Gareth spoke to him weren't lost, nor did Nicho answer. A stiff head nod as his eyes perused Gareth's healing neck. That was all he could produce in the ways of 'you're welcome.' He knew that his words would have little effect on the other boy's recovery. So he stayed quiet and perceptive, until such a time that he could walk away without a guilty conscience.

He'd been so lost in his scrutinizing gaze that he barely felt a hand on his. It wasn't until he looked down that he noticed Gareth had healed his hand. A gesture that, while appreciated, might have wounded his ego in the tiniest bit. His face was back to masked blankness, staring down at the dried blood on his knuckles, his unbruised, unharmed knuckles. Wordlessly, he made to stand from his spot at Gareth's feet. He wanted to retire for the evening. Become a recluse and wake up tomorrow with the entire scene behind them.

"Don't go. Please." Nicho's eyes moved from Gareth's viper-like grip to the azure eyes staring at him. The fear poured out in the open. There was nothing hiding behind them.

It intrigued Nicho while at the same time causing a bubble of apprehension to swell within him. Where did he go from here? What more could he do to help? Words of comfort flew through his mind too quickly to be interpreted. Each of them ridiculous and unhelpful. And so he stared at the boy with little expression until he clarified what it was that he could do to help.

"Just for a little while."

That was all the explanation that Nicho needed. He would spend the night assessing how easily it had been to make the decision to stay with Gareth. Now, however, he was only aware of the boy's desperate need to not be alone. Not yet. With a tight lipped nod, Nicho took a seat in the sliver of space next to Gareth. His eyes found the flickering firelight and watched it intently.

"The worst thing was not the idea of having to do that." Nicho's brows raised, but his gaze at the flames didn't falter. "It was the thought of him watching it and probably getting off on it, too. That utter fucking humiliation he would've made me feel. Would’ve probably never been able to look him in the eye again."

Nicho had the blinding image of Gareth's entire being shattered by the curse of shame. It made his hands curl into fists at his thighs.

"Now, though,” Gareth's voice got steely, “next time I see him, I’ll make him suck Derrek’s dick and make sure he chokes on it.”

Nicho's face turned in the tiniest movement toward Gareth. His expression showed the vaguest bit of concern. In his usual, quiet voice, he tried to reason with him. "That won't help. What you're feeling, you've got to deal with on your own. Watching it happen to him won't take away what almost happened. It'll make you just as bad as Axel and his mates."

Lifting a hand, making sure to force the tension out of it, Nicho reached toward Gareth's face. The minute his hand made contact, it splayed to cup his cheek. He turned his body to the side and stared into Gareth's eyes, hoping to convey his very deep, surprising sincerity. "You're not like that. You're better than that."

And if he wasn't better than that, Nicho had judged him all wrong.

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Gareth Twain
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"That won't help. What you're feeling, you've got to deal with on your own. Watching it happen to him won't take away what almost happened. It'll make you just as bad as Axel and his mates."

Nicho's quiet voice made him close his eyes and bow his head - Gare was so angry, so very angry and part of him wanted to do what he said he would do, but the other, still rational part of him, knew Nicho was right. He couldn't stoop down to Axel's level, he didn't want to even. The mere idea of it was sickening - but it didn't stop the thoughts of wanting to see Axel on his knees, shaking in fear. It really didn't.

The hand on his cheek made him look up again into the concerned and sincere gaze of the boy sitting next to him, to which Gareth kind of owed a lot right now. Blue eyes locked with jade and Gareth unconsciously leaned into the touch, the small bit of warmth emitting from Nicho's hand. "You're not like that. You're better than that."

And that did it.

It was rather ironic that, being the voice of reason most of the time when Jace got angry, it was now the other way around. But it did help, those words. He was fucking well better than Axel and his disgusting little friends. Letting out a slow breath, the tension leaked out of his shoulders entirely and his voice, when he spoke, was soft. Tired. "I know," he managed a tired smile, before continuing, "Still. Thinking about the thousand-and-one ways I could get back at Axel does make me feel marginally better." It had been a method Jace and him used a lot when they'd been younger. Whenever someone had pissed them off, they'd make a list of the many inventive ways to make sure that person would never bother them again - usually ending with 'I'll bring the bag, you'll bring the shovel.'

Reaching up, he took hold of the hand on his cheek and brought it down, the back of his own hand resting on his knee. He didn't let go of Nicho's hand immediately, thumb lightly brushing over Nicho's knuckles, just once, before he said, "I won't go after Axel. I promise," and he would hold himself to it. Axel wasn't worth the effort or the anger. He was worth nothing.

Letting go of Nicho's hand, he sighed and packed up his school supplies still lying on the table. "I think I'm going up to my dorm. Thanks for staying until I felt better," Gare already felt like there was nothing he could ever do to fully repay what Nicho had done for him today - but on the other hand, he shouldn't. He would've done the same, not asking anything in return.

On impuls, though, something he was going to curse himself for doing later on, he slid his hand around the back of Nicho's head and pressed his lips to Nicho's in a light kiss - a peck, more. It was over in a millisecond and had been as chaste as the way he kissed his mother - but the butterflies in his stomach went slightly mad none the less.

That was not necessarily a good thing.

Getting up quickly, he slung his bag over his shoulder and nodded at Nicho who was still sitting on the couch. "I'll see you around."
Edited by Gareth Twain, Oct 2 2010, 04:15 PM.
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