biblical times.

drive-by

don't ask please
mature language, slurs n other shit
like right away
don't question the ages.

"you think that's cute, you f&g-," whizzer took his hand and grabbed a fist full of the boy's white polo shirt. he lifted the boy up by his shirt and slammed his back against the long, clean glass window.

whizzer was popular at school. he was on the soccer team, good-looking with average grades. he had girls who would do whatever he pleased with the snap of his fingers. so did he have those few men, and oh how he loathed those few.

he loathed how they were openly homosexual without such a role to uphold. they were happy, just how whizzer wanted to be.

"whiz, we got his shit," whizzer's friend phil held a yellow backpack in his hand. the backpack has small pins all over it, some of bands names, some of rainbows and hearts. phil was a tall, quarterback. he approached the men in his brightly colored, green jersey.

"name?" whizzer asked phil while keeping a strong hold on the smaller boy.

"kyle- geez," phil laughed and opened the bag's zipper. he held the bottom of the bag in his large palm and turned it upside down.

books upon books fell from his bag, papers and pens, notes and trash. at the tail end, two polaroid-like pictures fell from the yellow bag. they were of kyle and another young boy who both wore stupid, big smiles on their faces. the kind that give you wrinkles around your eyes.

whizzer looked at those pictures for what felt like a long time. he looked at their grins and the way kyle held onto the boy next to him from behind, his fingers spread across his hipbone.

"oh isn't that cute," phil took one of the pictures off of the ground and held it up to whizzer and the kyle who was still pinned to the wall.

kyle audibly gulped as phil took his other hand and tore the image into two.

"you're a fucking waste of oxygen," whizzer growled, pulling his arm back and making a fist preparing to land a strong hit on the boy in front of him.

the loud horn of a car to his left caught their attention. the car was old, beaten up, blue and scratched. the driver's window slowly rolled down.

"hey cutie, last night was fun, wasn't it," the driver winked and gave a sly smirk. he was an older-appearing man. he had light brown curls and a red t-shirt on with slow jazz music playing from his radio.

"oh, is that your boyfriend," phil said to kyle with a stupid smile.

whizzer dropped his fist and his hold on the boy. in fact, his entire face dropped along with his dignity.

"im talking to you, blueberry," the driver winked, again.

whizzer felt himself gag. he didn't know what was causing him to fall ill, his lover's cheesy behavior or the fact that his lover just drove up to his school while he was harassing a boy.

"blueberry?" phil mocked, "guess that's you whiz, huh."

whizzer looked down at his dark blue sweatshirt. "that's very funny," whizzer tried to play off the obvious as a mistake, "of course not. that's quite the pet name, huh kyle?"

"i don't know that man, honest," kyle croaked out from his tense, dry throat.

"sure you don't," phil laughed and kicked the boy's leg right at the sweet spot on his knee. kyle stumbled over, catching himself on the window ledge.