Quarter Mile

Bruises

TW// mention of physical abuse

Beck stared in shock. "Dakota," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here?' You've been gone for three weeks, shouldn't I be asking you what you're doing here?" His tone wasn't harsh, it was concerned.

"I'm sorry Dakota," Beck said sadly, still submerged under the water from the neck down. "I just had some shit to figure out."

All of Dakota's anger dissipated at the softness of Beck's words. He could tell he was really going through something.

"It's okay, I just missed you, is all."

Beck smiled. "I missed you too."

Dakota took a step towards the bank. "Then come give me a kiss."

Beck looked down at the water. "I can't right now," he whispered.

"What do you mean you can't right now? Just get out of the water, Beck, and come kiss me." Dakota was slightly annoyed now. This wasn't how he had imagined their reunion to go.

"No, Dakota. I can't."

Dakota's irritation only grew. "What the fuck, Beck? I've been looking for you all afternoon."

"I know, and I'm so thankful you care enough to even look for me." Beck's voice was shaky and he looked like he could cry at any moment. Dakota didn't care though, Beck had been selfish for too long, it was his turn.

"Get out of the fucking water, Beck!" He shouted, tears pricking at his eyes. "Get out!"

Beck sighed, a singular tear rolling down his cheek as he realised what he was about to do. Slowly, he took a step forward on the lake floor, his feet being stabbed with a million tiny pebbles. His eyes locked onto Dakota's as he took another step, his shoulders now breaking the surface of the water.

Dakota was surprised to see Beck without a top on. A strange thing to be surprised about, given the circumstances, but Dakota had never seen Beck without a long sleeve top and long pants on.

Beck hung his head as he continued to walk towards the bank, towards where Dakota was standing. He couldn't bear to look at him.

As more of Beck's body emerged from the water, Dakota's mouth hung open and tears started to roll down his cheeks immediately. Beck wasn't looking at him. Why wasn't he looking at him?

When Beck reached the bank, and his feet were back on the soft grass, he dared to look up at Dakota. He expected to see a grimace, a disgusted look, or maybe he expected Dakota to be gone. But instead, he was met with a boy with tears streaming down his face with a pained and sorry expression.

Beck's torso was covered in green and blue and purple and red marks. Some were bruises, some were scratches and some even looked like burn marks. He breathed in a shuddery breath. It looked like it hurt to breathe.

"Beck," Dakota cried. He took a hesitant step towards the boy, opened his arms and whispered, "can I?"

Beck could only nod as Dakota pulled him into a gentle embrace. The blonde boy burst into sudden tears, sobbing into Dakota's neck, his hands gripping the unbuttoned corduroy shirt he was wearing. Dakota cried with Beck, each sob that tore from Beck's throat rattled through Dakota's brain and imprinted itself in there. Beck's knees buckled and he slowly started to sink to the ground, pulling Dakota down with him while crying out that he was sorry.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," was all he could repeat through the racking sobs making his body tremble. The boys hit the ground, Dakota's arms still wrapped around Beck's fragile body and Beck still gripping onto Dakota's shirt with his head pressed against Dakota's chest. One of Dakota's hands moved to the back of Beck's head and he pressed his lips into his hair.