There Joseph was, prepared to pick a fight with Bobby—and most likely, ruin his reputation that already seemed like it was to fall sooner rather than later with Lark around. But Joseph could blame nobody but himself.

He was the one who'd fallen for Lark. He was the one who would stop at nothing for Lark's happiness.

But Bobby needed to understand that as Joseph's friend—he would have no choice than to be noting other than accepting toward Lark. Because Joseph never wanted him to live in fear of his friends friend. It seemed horrid just to think about.

"So, I was thinking that maybe the three of us should go down to the cemetery. You know—just like old times—"

"Like old times? Oh, you mean the old times before you cornered my friends into corners and interrogated them?" Bobby looked unapologetic and just not at all bothered. This fueled Joseph's anger even more.

"No, I mean the old times where some fairy didn't have you wrapped around his little finger." Joseph scoffed, looking at both Troy and Bobby with a knowing look.

"You're one to talk. You and Troy can't be without each other for longer for two hours, without crawling into each other's arms by the end of the freaking night."

This had Bobby standing up from the bench centered in Montgomery Park, his anger radiating in heat waves. "Watch your mouth, Ellington. You don't wanna get into this with me."

"Bobby—" Troy tried to cut in, but was cut off by Joseph.

"No, I do, actually. Because these days; you have a habit of sticking your nose in shit that doesn't concern you."

Then, in a flash—Bobby threw the first punch.

Once a millisecond later, the two were hurling themselves onto the ground, fists connecting onto wherever they were able to reach. And at some point—Bobby's fist landed itself square onto Joseph's nose.

Troy shouted at the two of them to stop, before any town council members spotted them, and called Sheriff Beesly. But Joseph climbed atop of Bobby, throwing punch after punch, insult after insult.

Until Mr. Moor spotted them, and hurried over, pushing Troy back, as he yanked Joseph backwards.

"What the hell is the matter with you two? And why aren't you home yet? It's too damn dark for y'all to be out here rolling around in the ground."

Mr. Moor turned to Troy, "you—go home. You've got no business here."

"And you two," he had a tight grip at their shirts. "Your father's will not be happy about this."