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four

Calum Hood wasn't used to losing fights.

He was used to inflicting pain, only catching a few punches here and there in the process. A busted lip and bloody knuckles were easy for him to handle. He had to take care of broken skin and dark bruises more than a few times in his high school career.

But that's when no one cared about him.

The bruises he sported now, he couldn't let her see. He hadn't gone looking for the fight – ever since she cracked the code that locked his heart tight, Calum had found his anger dissipating. She helped a lot, and so did the therapy he agreed to go to.

The moment Calum saw him turn the corner; he knew he was in trouble. It had been more than three weeks since he beat the shit out of him in school, but apparently, he was still holding the grudge.

"Hood," he called, his voice dripping with malice. Calum kept walking, trying to ignore him. It was what he did best when he was trying to control the anger that was begging to be released. "Hood."

Calum dropped his cigarette, looking up into his eyes. "What?" He answered simply, but he already knew why he was here.

"You took a cheap shot that day," he replied, shaking his head with a small chuckle. "All I did was talk about your little girlfriend, you know, she's the talk of the school nowadays," he informed Calum, watching as the olive-skinned boy's fists tightened.

He was trying to focus on the pain of his fingernails digging into his palms instead of the rage bubbling up inside him. It was a technique his therapist was trying to teach him, to focus on something else instead of his overwhelming need to punch something.

"She doesn't care what people say about her," Calum grit, arching an eyebrow at his once classmate.

"No," the boy drawled. "But you do. And that's what got you in trouble in the first place. Now, I've been trying to convince myself to let it go, what you did. But you see, I can't. That was a cheap shot, and you know it, Hood," he continued, cocking his head to the side.

Calum thought about showing him what a cheap shot was. He should have seen it coming with what he was saying about her that day.

Calum opened his mouth to reply and that's when he felt the blow to the back of his head. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the hard pavement. He could feel the blood prickle his palms as the world spun around him.

It was then that he saw the two other pairs of feet around him that he knew he had been jumped. This wasn't just a chance encounter. It had been carefully thought out, waiting until Calum was alone. But it was only that much worse that the three boys were supposed to be in school.

The hits kept coming, Calum curling into a ball on the sidewalk to defend himself. He would fight back, but he was outnumbered and he stood no chance against the boys. A long groan slipped free from Calum's lips as he covered his temples. The least he could do was protect his most vulnerable body parts.

He thought it would never end, but eventually the boys finished off with one last swift kick to his ribs. "Not so tough now, are you?" The boy said, spitting at Calum's feet. And just like that, they were gone.

Calum didn't know how much time had passed since they had left, but he was numb. His ribs ached from their kicks, his jaw was surely swollen and his left eye was tinted a deep purple and red. He knew by tomorrow morning that it would swell shut for at least a week. His nose was bleeding a crimson river that crashed over his split lip.

He rolled over onto his back, a headache blooming across his forehead. He hadn't felt like this in ages, not since the very first fight that he had ended up a part in. It had been years ago, and he had vowed to himself to never feel like that again, but here he was.