"It's hard for him too..."

Drew hadn't realized that the words would bring a double meaning when he said them, he was only thinking of his sister. But they did. Yes, her death had been, and was still, hard for David, but so was life in general for the other boy. And Drew could not deny it.

"We don't get along," Drew said, staring up at the ceiling. Beside him, the hum of the tattoo machine accompanied the prick of the needle in his arm. The scent of disinfectant alcohol and ink filled his nose. "Since we were kids, he could never keep quiet; whenever someone told him something about the way he dressed or something, he always had to bite back."

"Do you keep quiet," Jun asked slowly, his focus on the tattoo, "when someone insults you?"

Drew blinked. "No."

"Then why should he?"

Drew glanced at the man, then looked away. "I guess...I never thought of it that way."

Wiping the ink and blood from the arm, Jun readjusted his angle and filled in a line of black. "You seem to get along now."

"I guess so. But not really," Drew said. He immediately frowned and shook his head. "Sorry," he said. "The past six months have been a little hard. A lot has changed and I'm not sure about a lot of things anymore."

"Sounds tough," Jun said. "Want to talk about it?"

Drew hesitated. He had gone from rarely talking about himself to spilling his guts to people he barely knew. But there was something easier about it that way. "I don't want to bother you."

"I'm a big boy. Lay it on me."

"Well..." And before he knew it, he was telling Jun about his injury, about having to quite football, about increasing his studies, deciding on college—and about the trouble with his friends.

"The whole town only ever thinks about football," Drew said. "And I guess I just sort of fell into that. It was the only thing we had in common, and when I couldn't play anymore, it wasn't that big a deal for me, but everyone else just sort of...got a little bit further away." He shifted in his seat. "Sorry. That probably doesn't make sense."

"I understand," Jun said. "If that was the only thing you had in common, when it goes away, so do they. That's not a bad thing; you can make new friends."

"You make it sound easy," Drew said with a sigh. He let his head fall back onto the rest. "I guess, I'm just used to being around them."

Jun opened his mouth to say something, but just then a knock on the door interrupted them. It opened, and David, a bright, shiny new silver ring in his bottom lip, looked in.

"Maya is here," David said.

"Ah." Turning off the machine and standing, Jun smiled at Drew. "My wife," he said by way of explanation. "It's time we took a break, anyway, give your arm a rest and let the machine cool off." Stripping his gloves off on the way to the door, he paused once there. Taking David's chin between his thumb and forefinger he tilted the boy's head up and cast a scrutinizing look at the pierced lip. "Hm," he said. "Good, good. Nice, clean work. Was it worth the harassment?"

"Little bit," David said, smiling as the man laughed and tweaked his nose.

As Jun went out, David came in, taking the vacated stool and rolling closer to Drew's chair. Leaning in, he peered at the tattoo. "Looks good," he said.

"Thanks. So does—ow!" Drew cried, yanking his arm away from David, who had just poked the raw skin. "What's the matter with you?" he asked crossly, frowning down at the throbbing skin.

"Sorry," David said, but there was a slight smirk on his lips.

"Yeah?" Drew said. And before David could stop him, he reached out and flicked the ring in the other boy's lip.

"Ow!" David cried, pulling away and covering his mouth.

"Yeah, it hurts, doesn't it?" Drew said. Leaning back in the chair, he muttered, "You're still a troublemaker."

"Troublemaker? Are you a middle aged woman?" David said, instantly kicking his stool away as Drew made a grab for him.

"You better run," Drew said.

"All right," David said, holding his hands up, palms out. When Drew settled back into the chair with a narrow-eyed glare, he cautiously rolled closer. Looking down at the outlined tattoo, he said, "I figured it would be this."

"Yeah?"

"Hm. It was the last drawing she gave you. For your birthday."

Blue eyes glanced at the other boy. "How did you know that?"

"She told me." A smile lifted the corners of the pale lips. "She was frustrated because the trunk wasn't coming out how she wanted. So, I took her to the park. That's when she added the birds."

"I didn't know that," Drew said quietly. He looked at the tattoo, then at David, who was looking at it with soft eyes and a slight smile. After a few moments dark eyes flicked up to meet blue and they both looked away in a chorus of clearing throats.

When Jun came back in the room, David was on the far side of the room with the inks, and Drew was sitting in the chair with his eyes in the other direction. He glanced between the two boys and pursed his lips to hide a smile.

"Shall we?" he asked, retaking his seat.

"He touched it," Drew said immediately.

David clicked his tongue in annoyance at being tattled on, and so retaliated the way children did. "He flicked my ring."

"Boys," Jun cut in, with a stern voice. He would have liked to see how it played out, but he was on a time crunch. "David, you know better. It could get infected and then it's my ass on the line."

"Sorry," came the quiet, contrite voice.

"And one for Drew."

"Sorry." This one a little less contrite.

"And you," Jun said, turning to Drew. "Don't let him provoke you."

"Sorry," came the mumbled word.

Jun's back was turned to the door, but by the way Drew's jaw clenched as he looked over his shoulder, the man could guess David couldn't resist the urge to tease the boy one last time before leaving.

"I'm going to hit him," Drew said, breathing hard through his nose. "I'm going to hit him in the face, really, really hard."

Jun smiled, because he couldn't help but think: No, you won't.

**

Monday came all too quickly, and with it, as was customary of Monday's, a number of new woes. Standing at his open locker, David was about to encounter one of them right now.

"Hey, Otto!"

David looked up at the aggressive call to find himself being stared down by three members of the football team. He didn't know their names, or their faces, and if he had seen them on the street would not have known they went to the same school.

"What?" David said.

One of them, who had a close shaved head, with just a little flip of dirty blond hair in the very front, gave a breathy chuckle as he took a step forward. "That's not how you answer someone," he said, in that overly eggerated nice way. "Didn't anyone ever teach you any manners?"

"No," David said.

Hair Flip gave a sneering chuckle. "Are you trying to be cute with me?"

"I've been told I don't need to try."

"You're looking to get punched in that smart mouth," Hair Flip said, lowering and deepening his voice.

"And what are you looking for?" David said, turning to face him completely.

He took a step, but the other two held him back. "Easy, Kramer," one of them said.

Still held by the other two, he leaned forward. "Stay away from Drew," Hair Flip, now Kramer, said, pointing a finger into David's face. "He's nice to you for some reason, but don't think that he likes you. He's nice to everyone."

"Then I guess that's the reason, isn't it?"

"What?" came the confused question.

David gave an impatient sigh. "Is that it?"

Kramer didn't appreciate being taken so lightly, and he took a menacing step forward, almost breathing down into David's face. "I'm only going to warn you once: stay away from Drew. You're a bad influence."

"Technically, that's twice," David said. And before Kramer could respond, he added, "I didn't know you cared. Didn't you leave him after school when he broke his leg?"

"He got home," Kramer said defensively.

"Thanks to me."

Stepping uncomfortably close, nostrils flaring as his breathing grew quick and shallow, Kramer swelled his chest. David looked up at him unphased. "Look, you weirdo," he said in a low, threatening voice. "Bailey and Davis may have a soft spot for you, but Crowley was right. If you disappeared, no one would care. So why don't you?"

Dark eyes gave nothing away as they looked up at the other boy, who stood almost a foot taller. "Oh, I will," David said quietly. "Eventually. But why are you so focused on Drew? Oooh," David breathed. He leaned in a little and lowered his voice. "Do you have a crush on him?"

That did not go over well. The teenager was taken aback, then angry, and before his teammates could stop him this time, Kramer grabbed David by the front of his t-shirt and twisted it, yanking the boy forwards and almost off his feet. "You watch what you say to me, you freak!" Kramer screamed, his face turning red. "You think this is a joke?"

"No," David said. "I think you're the joke."

"You think you're better than me?" Kramer yelled, slamming him back against the lockers, and ignoring his teammates who were trying to pull him away. "You think you can talk to me like that?"

"Please stop touching me now," David said.

"Or what?" Kramer laughed in his face, his breath too hot and smelling of cigarette smoke. "There's no one here to save you now. What can you do?"

David's gaze flicked to the other students who, in true fashion, has stopped to watch the show. They gathered casually along the lockers, with no intention of interfering. Then he looked back at the boy. "I'll show you."

**

Drew was only one hallway over when he heard the commotion. As he came back around he heard a piercing cry of pain, and when he broke through the crowd, saw three of his former teammates on the floor, two kneeling around the third.

"What did you do?" yelled one of them, kneeling over his buddy.

David fixed his shirt and looked down at them. "Basic hand-to-hand training," he said. "Thanks for the practice."

One made a lunge for him from the floor. David shifted his footing and weight and braced himself, but before anything could happen Drew surged forward and tackled the ballplayer.

"Stop it!" Drew yelled, struggling with the big teen down on the ground. "You're going to get kicked off the team if you get caught fighting!"

"No one is going to care if it's him!" the guy yelled back. "Why are you protecting him?"

"I'm protecting you, you idiot," Drew yelled back. "Now calm down, or I'm the one who's going to punch you."

After some more struggling, the boy did calm down enough for Drew to get off him, though he continued to glare fiercely at David.

"You're going to pay for this," Kramer said, being helped to his feet by the other one. "You're going to pay for this! No one is going to send in any videos this time. You're not going to get away by playing the victim. You're the one who's trouble!"

David said nothing, just watched the trio pick themselves up and hobble away, red-faced and with the unfounded indignation of instigators who found their prey not so submissive. Drew watched them leave, then turned to David. "What happened? Did they say something to you?"

"Don't they always?" David said, turning back to his locker. He tried to play it calm, but his brows were furrowed, he was breathing heavily, and he was chucking books into his bag more forcefully than was necessary.

Drew sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. "You couldn't let it go?"

David looked at him, and in his usual placid face and blank eyes, Drew saw fire. "No," David said.

Drew, taken aback by the look, blinked. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he asked, "What was it about anyway?"

David banged his locker shut and slung his bag over his shoulder. "You." Then, without another word or look, he walked away, leaving a startled and speechless Drew behind.