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Wesley Roman wants to punch the shit out of Dallas Mayfield. He's thinking maybe he'll just do it.
He drags Dallas behind him, by the wrist, like he's a chick he's got to fuck. It would be amusing if Wesley wasn't so pissed off at everyone. Dallas says nothing and lets himself be dragged by his friend, it's the least he can do. They move up the stairs, practically as one. The bathroom door down the hall opens, there's a line—a girl moves to go next and Wesley beats her to it. He side steps her, nearly shoves her out of the way with Dallas' firm body as he pushes him into the bathroom with rough hands to his chest.
Dallas groans at the shove. "Hey! It's my turn!" The girl screams at Wesley, he ignores her and slams the door right in her shocked face. The lock clicks.
"Tight space, huh?" Dallas mumbles, his back brushing against the shower curtain. "Nice thinking, Wes. A bathroom to do this in."
Wesley deep down has never thought of putting Dallas through physical pain—they're best friends, they're brothers. But Wesley's angry, hurt—he needs to hit something. If that's Dallas, so fucking be it.
He'll regret it tomorrow, but that's tomorrow and not now.
"Wes, man—"
The brunette boy turns and his fist goes colliding with Dallas' jaw. His knuckles instantly ache. The punched boy doesn't trip back into the tub, but his hands grip onto the shower curtain—it rips from its hinges and lays dead in a Cunningham tub.
Wesley's chest is pounding and his jaw is set. Dallas takes in a breath as he stares down at his shoes, when he lets the breath go—blood pools at the corner of his lips. "Move out of the way and let me out of the bathroom, Wesley. We're not doing this shit here."
"Yeah, fuck you. I'm not moving. We're doing this shit now." Wesley spits, it's all venom and disappointment and hurt. He can turn into a dog when he doesn't get his way. He'll have your flesh hanging at the corners of his teeth. He'll make a show of it too.
Dallas slowly looks up at his friend, his head and jaw pounding. He should be keeping an eye on Max.
"Wesley, I'm here for my sister—get the fuck out of my way." Dallas makes a start to move past the boy, but Wesley grabs at him and turns the two—shoving Dallas back against the wood door. It creaks against the force of them. Wesley's like a bull. He's seeing red. He's seeing whatever is left of green haired Briar Mickelson. He's feeling nauseated thinking of his best friend, his Dallas, still staying in contact with Briar after everything. What have they talked about? Have they talked about? What have they done?
