Prompt: I don't know where this would go but could you possibly do a prompt from the fight when Mitch gave Ezra the scar? Thank you c:
A.N.- I decided to just start a prompt book for them! So enjoy :)
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Laughter drifted down from a little ways off, and Ezra turned his head towards it slowly. He felt dizzy and drunk.
He looked down at the plastic cup in his hands. The liquid inside was a bluish green, and this was his third cup of it.
“I bet that’s Marion and his friends,” Garret growled angrily, pouring himself another drink. “I say we go after them and teach them a damn lesson.”
Ezra watched his friends as they all nodded in angry, drunken agreement. They abandoned their drinks and got up, staggering.
“Come on Ezra,” Garret barked. “We’re going to teach those little shits that they’re not as tough as they think.”
Ezra stood up, although something in the back of his mind screamed that this was wrong. They shouldn’t be attacking Mitch Marion and his friends. They shouldn’t be attacking anyone.
I hate fighting, a part of Ezra thought frantically.
“Ezra! Hurry up you drunk dead weight,” Garret said impatiently.
Ezra stumbled after his friends, his rational thought fading. He realized he still had his drink, and took a few more swallows of it before tossing it aside.
They managed their way over to the trailers, where Mitch and his friends preferred to hang out. They were sitting and smoking cigars together on the ground, laughing.
“Trevor Mendez,” Garret said, looking at one of the boys. “I call hitting him. He’s cockier than Mitch.” He turned to Ezra and clumsily clapped him on the shoulder. “You get Mitch, Ezra.” He turned to his other friends, telling them to go after Rio and Patrick.
“Let’s go,” Garret growled, stalking forward.
Ezra shook his head a little before following after him. As they approached, Mitch and his friends looked up, their bodies tensing.
“Go away Garret,” Mitch said, standing up. He dropped his cigar and put it out with his foot. His friends copied him.
“We’re gonna kill you damn bastards,” Garret said before lunging at Trevor.
Ezra watched as his friends attacked the others. He ran forward at Mitch, his fist swinging, a messy punch that landed on Mitch’s jaw.
Mitch stumbled back before ducking away from another messy punch. He threw his fist forward, and it collided with Ezra’s cheek.
Ezra nearly fell over, but managed to catch himself, his heart racing. He looked up as Mitch swung at him again.
No, I hate fighting, his mind screamed.
He yelped as Mitch punched him in the chest. Terror shot through him and he swung out wildly, landing several punches against Mitch.
Mitch looked pumped up on adrenaline. He pulled his fist back and rocketed it forward. Ezra yelled as it hit him in the face.
He dropped to his knees and grabbed a rock, standing up and running at Mitch. Mitch jumped out of the way hastily and also snatched up a large rock from the ground.
“You want to fight dirty? Fine. We do it your way,” Mitch snarled.
Ezra ran back at him, lifting the rock. Mitch lifted the rock he was holding and swung it up at Ezra as the boy approached.
Ezra let out a scream and dropped back to his knees, dropping his rock, his hands flying up to his eyebrow as something warm dripped down it.
Mitch threw the rock and tackled him back onto the ground, punching him viciously. “You dirty fighting fucker!” he growled, his arm bleeding from where Ezra had hit him with the rock. “You wanted to fight with a weapon! I told you we were doing it your way!” He punched at Ezra angrily.
Ezra curled up, his hands pressed over the bleeding spot on his head, trying not to whimper. He wanted to yell for help, but he was afraid.
“Mitch!”
The frantic voice had Mitch looking up. Ezra cracked open an eye as well, noticing the tan boy being overpowered, his glasses several feet away on the ground.
That’s Hank Snyder’s brother, a dazed part of Ezra thought. Rio Snyder.
“Rio! Shit!” Mitch hissed, crawling off of Ezra and running over to help Rio.
“Ezra! Ezra!” Lucas, one of his friends, cried, dropping next to him.
Ezra looked up, his head throbbing. Blood was seeping through his fingers. Lucas cursed and helped him up carefully.
“Garret!” he snapped. “Garret, we have to get Ezra out of here!”
But Garret ignored them, focused on attacking Trevor. Lucas cursed more and pulled Ezra with him, hurrying away from the fighting.
Once they were a safe distance away, Lucas sat Ezra down and pulled his hand away from the cut on his head. He grimaced at it.
“That’s going to leave a scar,” he said.
Ezra covered the cut with his hand again, before blood could drip down into his eye. He winced at the sharp pain of it. His parents were going to kill him when they saw this.
“Shit,” he finally said. Attacking them was a bad idea.
“Yea, shit,” Lucas said, sitting next to him.
Ezra could feel the warm, sticky blood on his hands, and could smell the sharp metallic scent of it. He squeezed his eyes shut, deciding that messing with someone like Mitch Marion was not the best drunken idea he’d ever had.
