Three hours later, I stood at the register of Shirley Shakes. I was working, but the aftermaths of my fight with Honoka and Gavin still haunted me. I faked a smile like every other day, but it proved to be more difficult than usual. After thirty minutes, I gave up.

        What did Honoka mean?

        She didn't know me, and there was no way she knew I was gay. Only one person knew that.

        Camila.

        I trusted her, and she wasn't in the position to have told Honoka recently. Her ability to keep a secret was why I confided in her in the first place. I glanced down at my tattoo that peeked slightly past my uniform shirt.

        Unleash the chains.

        Like I told Kenji, I still had plenty of chains to unleash.

        Chains I wasn't ready to unleash.

        I tried refocusing on the annoying customers, and I tried stopping myself from giving anyone attitude. Again, it was a feat.

        However, I did a double-take when I noticed two men approaching me. One had the scene look going on with the eyeliner, purple nail polish, dark clothing and the spikes and all. It was an interesting sight, but what really caught my attention was the way he walked. He had a very...feminine sway to his hips.

        He was gay.

        The man next to him was an older man who could have been his dad. This man had on a wife beater with a jean jacket and worn out trousers. With his scruffy look, there was nothing stereo-typically gay about him.

       What an interesting pair.

        When they stopped in front of me, I stopped staring and smiled at them. "Hello. Welcome to Shirley Shakes," I said in my friendliest voice.

        "Hi," the scene guy said, dragging out the word. From his voice, it was confirmed. Yup. This dude was gay. He ordered and, man, was it a huge meal. Where did it all go? The dude was skinny as fuck.

        While he ordered, I didn't miss the other man rolling his eyes with a sour expression. When the scene guy was done, the other man ordered, and his meal was even larger. Jesus. At least with the gruff man, I knew where his food went. Straight to that beer belly.

        That shit could knock you out.

        I turned to the two. "Your order is in, but it'll probably be a ten minute or more wait."

        The bigger guy sighed in annoyance. "Great," he muttered under his breath. "Have to spend even more time with this faggot."

        What the gruff man said was barely audible, but my nosy ass still heard it and so did the scene guy. I frowned, and the scene guy tensed.

        I handed them their cups anyway, shooting a glare at the rougher man. They got their drinks and returned, and the two moved to the side near the register. There weren't any customers to attend to, so my focus stayed on the two men while I tried containing the scowl on my face.

        I sometimes used the word "faggot", too, but I used it in a non-spiteful way. This beer-bellied man definitely had more than enough spite to his tone. I didn't like it.

        The scene guy whispered to the other man, "I don't know why Mom keeps insisting we hang out. It's obviously not going to make you accept me or make you even like me."

        That made two of us, buddy. I instantly thought of my father.

        "Well..." The gruff man turned to the scene guy, still keeping his voice low. "There wouldn't be a problem if you didn't do this." I snuck a peek, and he gestured to the scene guy's clothing. "Nail polish. Eyeliner. The way you walk. The way you talk. What are you? A fucking girl?" A crease formed in my forehead, and my jaw tightened. "You're pathetic. It sucks that you're my son." The gruff man snorted, and the scene guy grew smaller in size. "It sucks even more that your mother is forcing me to spend time with you. Let's just get this over with and make her happy. Capisce?"

        I kept sneaking glances their way. The gruff man crossed his arms and leaned against the wall while the scene guy kept his eyes cast down. I felt for the dude.

        What really sucked was that a guy like him had a father like the other man. That feeling of rejection and of not being accepted. It was frightening. More reasons why I wasn't ready to show the "real" Darian to the world. No one could judge you for something they didn't know.

        I snuck another peek at the scene guy. I respected and admired him in a way. He wasn't afraid to be himself. He dressed, walked, talked, and acted the way he wanted, and he embraced his sexuality openly.

        He had the guts to unleash more chains than I ever could.

        Maybe Honoka was right after all. Maybe I was fake. Maybe I wasn't real. Then again, who was?

        It hurt less having people judge you for a person you weren't than them judging you for your true self.

        A couple minutes later, the pair's food was ready, and I grabbed both meals and put them on two separate trays. "Your food's ready," I called out to them, and they both walked over to me.

        I handed the scene guy his food first with an encouraging smile. He returned it. "Thank you." He grabbed his food and took a handful of hot sauce. He turned to the other man with a smile. "I heard these are the hottest hot sauce in Shirley Heights."

        The man rolled his eyes before reaching his hand out to me for his tray. "Well, fags burn in hell, so might as well get used to the heat," he muttered to the scene guy, whose face fell.

        Before I could comprehend what I was doing, I pushed the tray forward, spilling the food on the gruff guy.

        The man cursed and jumped back, shooting daggers at me. "What the fuck's your problem?!"

        "You're an asshole, you know that?!" I yelled, not caring that I was insulting a customer.

        "Why don't you mind your business, kid?" He took a handful of napkins to clean himself off as the scene guy watched us. "Keep serving for your minimum wage, boy."

        I inhaled deeply. "Oh, yeah?" I walked from behind the counter and moved to the front of the register, advancing towards the guy.

        No one talked shit to Darian Ansel without retaliation.

        No one played with my sexuality or my lack of a future. Those were two subjects no one tempered with if they wanted all their teeth. This guy just messed with both.

         I got in his face. "Why don't you repeat that?"

         We had everyone in the restaurant's attention by now and a few of my co-workers stared at me, probably wondering what the hell I was doing. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing either, but I didn't giving a rat's ass.

        Someone had to teach this old fuck a lesson.

        "Darian!" My manager, Rich, ran from his office to the register, glaring at me. "What are you doing?" he said through gritted teeth. "Get back to work."

        The gruff guy looked me in the eye. "Why don't you listen to your manager, boy? Go get me my burger and fries. Why do you care anyway? You a faggot, too?"

        Nothing mattered at that moment as all reasoning left my mind. I didn't even realize what I was doing until I heard the crack of a nose, and it didn't register that I had punched him until the man fell to the ground.

        "Darian!" Rich screamed, running from behind the counter, towards me as the man clasped his hand over his nose.

        I flicked my wrist, dismissing the throb in my fist.

        "How dare you? You good-for-nothing cracker!" the man yelled, groaning in pain as he rolled on the floor.

        Cracker? Oh, hell nah. This dude looked more like a cracker than me.

      The scene guy didn't even run to his dad's aid. He stood back, speechless while the other customers watched on in shock and amusement.

        "Sir, I'm so sorry," Rich spoke to the man on my behalf—like a little bitch.

        Pathetic.

        Rich tried helping the man up, but he pushed Rich's hands away. "Get off me!" he barked.

        "Not so tough now, are you?" I laughed at the scene before me. "I won't be surprised if you're one of those cocksuckers who bends over to be fucked up the ass in private but parades around with anti-gay signs in public," I said, adding more salt to the wound.

        "Oh, shit," one of the customers muttered, grinning like a fool. The man slit his eyes at me.

        "Darian!" Rich moved into my line of vision and pushed my shoulders back. "Have you lost your mind?"

         "C'mon. Come at me." I opened my arms, my eyes locked on the fool with the busted nose. "Test me one more time. I dare you."

        "I'm going to sue this place!" The man rose to his feet, still clutching his bleeding nose. "I'm going to tear this motherfucking place down!" The scene guy finally ran to his dad and held him back as he tried advancing towards me while my manager tried keeping me away from the asshole. "You'll regret this, boy."

         God, I wanted to punch him again.

         "Try, you fucking bigot!" I didn't back down. "Put your balls where your mouth is, you spineless bitch."

        "That's it!" Rich turned to me. "You've said and done enough, Darian." My eyes dropped to him. "You're fired."

        "You're fucking kidding me, right?" He couldn't be serious.

        "No, I'm not," he said. "You're fired. You've gone too far this time. Give me your badge." He jutted his hand out, looking dead serious.

        "You're really taking his side?" I couldn't believe this. Even with a bigoted man, I was still in the wrong.

        "He's the customer. You have no right punching and disrespecting him like that." I stared at him like I didn't know what he was talking about. "Come on. Badge."

        "You know what?" I walked backwards, chuckling. "Fuck you. Fuck all of you." I took off my hat and flung it to the side. I didn't give a damn that it hit a customer in the face. "Take your damn badge." I snatched it off my chest and threw it on the floor. "I don't need it. I'm outta here."

        I raised my hands in triumph before turning to walk away.

        "That's right. Don't mess with me, boy. You lose your fucking job when you do!" the man hollered, and I turned back around and flicked him off with both hands before continuing to walk off.

         All eyes were on me, from Rich and my co-workers to the asshole and his son to the rest of the customers.

        When I reached the door, a boy around my age walked into the restaurant. I pushed him as hard as I could to the left, and he slammed against the wall.

        "The hell!" he yelled, grasping onto the wall while watching me in bewilderment. "What's your problem, man?"

That was for every customer at Shirley Shakes who had pissed me off. And there were many.

"I've always wanted to do that," I told him before continuing to walk out.

        "Darian!" Rich shouted. "Stop harassing the customers." I didn't pay him any attention. "Return your uniform tomorrow."

Yeah, right.

        I didn't have to do shit for him anymore.

        I wasn't going to return the uniform. I was going to keep it as long as possible just to piss Rich off.

         Yes. I was a goon, but like Aaron said:

         It was so fun being a goon.

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* Sorry I've been slacking lately with the updates, but summer starts soon, and you'll be flooded with updates then. Just have to be patient for now.

* I feel like this is the first chapter in which you guys get a glimpse of the goon Darian. He's been pretty tame so far *Boring*, so I had a lot of fun with this chapter.

* Hope you liked it. What do you guys think will happen next? With Honoka and Darian? Darian and Gavin? Most importantly, Darian and Kenji? Comment your thoughts! :)