It's the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to him.

Brendon had been woken up by Rodney that morning, who was smirking smugly, and was told to get dressed and pack his school bag as quickly as possible. Brendon had done so, suspiciously, and then had found himself being hauled out of the house, and towards school, by Rodney himself.

Now he's walking through the school gates with the stupid man by his side, trying to avoid the questioning looks of his classmates. He has no idea what's going on, but he's taken a vow of silence when it comes to Rodney, and he's not about to ask. All he hopes is that he doesn't see Ryan, because he has no idea what Ryan will do to his mom's boyfriend.

Once they're inside the school building, Rodney stops, looking around. "Where's the school nurse?"

"Um. What?" Brendon asks, too surprised to keep himself from not talking. "Why?"

"Your mom and I decided you needed to go see her, so where is she?"

Brendon's eyes narrow. "I'm not going to see any nurse. There's nothing wrong with me."

"Then why can't you keep fucking still for two minutes?"

Brendon colours. He'd been tapping his thigh absently whilst they'd been talking, but he stops it. He can't actually believe this his mom has agreed to let him go to the school nurse about his ADHD. He guesses that it'd be free rather than if he went to the doctors, but his choice not to get treatment since he came off his medication has never been questioned before.

"I'm not going," he sighs, ignoring the weird looks he gets from a couple of passing jocks as they notice Rodney. "I'm going to class."

"If you walk away from me now, that cut on your cheek will be the least of your worries," Rodney threatens, quietly, and Brendon self-consciously rubs it, before wincing as it stings. He glares at the man, wondering if it's worth walking away, before realising that it's probably not, and shrugs. "Good. Now, lead the way."

Brendon sighs, heavily, but does so. The school nurse can hardly prescribe him anything, but she can probably recommend that he's put on something. He's going to refuse, though. He doesn't care how many times Rodney hits him with his belt; he's not going to turn into a vegetable again, for anything.

They reach the nurse's office within a couple of minutes, and Brendon hesitates. He's never met her before, and he has no idea if she's going to be sympathetic or apathetic. Rodney knocks, loudly, and the female call to come in is heard almost immediately. Brendon swallows, and then opens the door.

A woman looks up from her desk, where she's typing on her laptop, and smiles at him. "Hello. How can I help you both?"

"His mom and I need some advice about a condition he has," Rodney explained, and Brendon's startled by how charmingly he says it. He guesses that if the man was like that to his mom in the beginning, he can see why she didn't guess he'd end up being trouble. "Is it okay if we have a quick word with you?"

"Of course it is," she nods, and motions to the sofa in front of her. "Please, both of you, take a seat."

They both do so, Brendon taking care to be as far away from Rodney as possible. He thinks that the nurse notices this, as she frowns slightly, but she doesn't press it. She shuts her laptop, crosses one leg over the other, and smiles, cheerily. Brendon thinks she seems the approachable sort; kind, pretty and polite. He quite likes her. "What can I do for you, then?"

"Brendon, tell her about your condition," Rodney orders, and Brendon rolls his eyes. He doesn't need to be spoken to like he's five, let alone by Rodney. But the nurse is looking at him expectantly, so he sighs.

"Um. Well, I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was nine, and they put me on medication. It made me really tired and lifeless though, and I hated it, so I asked to come off them when I was thirteen. That's about it, really."

"I see," the nurse nods, and then glances at Rodney. "What do you want advice with, now?"

"He's becoming more and more impulsive," Rodney replies, immediately. "He's breaking things and talking back rudely to his mom and me, and throwing parties that ruin our house."

"What the hell?" Brendon shouts, nearly jumping to his feet with outrage. "I've not broken shit, and I don't talk rudely to my mom, just to you, because you're trying to take over everything. What do you mean our house, anyway, it's not --"

"See what I mean?" Rodney asks, feigning sadness. "He's like this all of the time. He's becoming really hard to handle."

"That is a complete lie --"

"Brendon, please don't get so upset," Rodney sighs, imploringly, and Brendon kind of really wants to kill him for being such a good actor. "Let's listen to what the nurse has to say, shall we?"

"Don't talk to me like --"

"Brendon, how do you feel about your condition?" the nurse interrupts him, looking quite concerned about the situation. "Is it becoming unbearable to handle?"

"No," Brendon says, quickly. "It's fine. It's annoying at times because people don't understand it, but I'm used to it, and it's not got worse at all. It's the same as it has been for years."

"I see," the nurse says, and then purses her lips, deep in thought. "Right. Well. I think, and please don't take this the wrong way Brendon, that medication may be for the best. It will put everybody's minds at ease, and now that you're older, you may feel much better. I think it would be wise to visit the doctor."

Rodney smiles, smugly, but Brendon feels like his heart has turned cold. He shakes his head, immediately. "No. I'm not going."

"You're going if your mom and I say you are," Rodney disagrees.

"I'm eighteen, you can't --"

"You're eighteen?" the nurse asks, and Brendon nods. "Well. In that case, I'm afraid, Sir, that Brendon can't be forced to do anything. His condition is not a danger to anybody, and so it's perfectly up to him whether he subdues it with medication or not."

Rodney looks stunned. "What if the doctor tells him to take them?"

"The doctor can't tell him to take anything he doesn't want to, especially not in a case where nobody is at risk," the nurse explains, and gives Brendon a reassuring smile, which he returns. "I'm afraid I can't do much more you. If either of you need advice in the future, though, please don't hesitate to come and see me again."

"Well, thank you, that's been very helpful," Brendon smiles, jumping to his feet and quickly heading for the door. The nurse bids the two of them a cheery goodbye, as Rodney follows Brendon, seemingly speechless about the fact that his plan has fallen through. "Bye, then!"

Brendon shuts the door behind the two of them, and then turns to Rodney. "Well, that's that then, isn't it? No medication for me, and no satisfaction for --"

He shuts up, however, as Rodney grabs him by the hair and twists his head back. He lets out a shout of pain, but Rodney shakes his hair, silencing him. "Listen, kid," Rodney snarls, shaking him with every word. Brendon blinks, quickly, fighting tears of pain. "I don't give a fuck how clever you think you are, but if you carry on talking to me like shit, I'll beat you black and blue, do you understand?"

"Oi!" comes a loud, male voice, and Rodney lets go of him. Brendon straightens up, choking a little, and rubbing the back of his neck. He looks up through a slightly blurry vision, to find that Jon is marching up to them, looking furious. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What's it got to do with you?" Rodney snaps, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Get the hell out of here," Jon growls, folding his arms and not looking in the least bit intimidated. "One word from me and I'll have the entire football team kicking you to shit in a minute, okay? So get away from him."

Rodney glares at Jon, obviously weighing up the pros and cons of hurting him, and then shakes his head. He cuffs Brendon around the back of the head once more - causing Brendon to wince and look away from Jon, feeling ashamed - and looks disgusted. "Fucking kids," he mutters, and then leaves, without another word.

Jon stares after him, and then rounds on Brendon, looking concerned. "Are you alright? Who the hell was that?"

"I'm fine," Brendon mutters, rubbing the back of his head and looking at the floor. "That was my mom's boyfriend."

"What a bastard," Jon comments, bitterly, and shakes his head. "Anyway, are you coming to class? I was just heading back from the toilets."

"I'll be there in a minute," he sighs, not quite feeling up to going to History just yet. When Jon looks at him questioningly, he shrugs. "I'm going to the bathroom."

"Oh, okay," Jon smiles, and runs a hand through his hair. "See you in a minute, then."

"See you," Brendon smiles, and begins to walk away. He stops after a couple of steps, however, remembering his manners. "Thanks, by the way. For stopping him."

"Anytime," Jon promises, and then with a cheery wave, heads back to class. Brendon sighs, and walks into the bathroom, which is thankfully empty. He leans against the sink, staring sceptically in the mirror. His hair is messed up - thanks to Rodney - and all in his eyes, and his cheek is still nastily wounded. He sighs, and looks away, unable to face himself anymore.

How can he let some man walk into his life and hurt him? He wishes he could take Ryan's advice and push him away, but how? All it will end up with is him even more hurt, and that's the last thing he wants. What he wants most of all is Ryan, here with him, telling him what to do, or even just holding him. That would make everything okay, even if only for a little bit.

Just as he thinks this, the door opens, and he looks up, heart jumping into his throat. Could it be...?

"Oh, if it isn't the fairy!" the newcomer jeers, looking delighted, and Brendon mentally swears. Of course. This is his life, and he has the worst luck in the world. Of course it would be Timothy. The boy shuts the door behind him, smiling widely. "I heard you had a party on Saturday and I wasn't invited. How come?"

"Look, I'm just going to go to lesson," Brendon sighs, not at all in the mood to get into a fight. "Excuse me, please."

"Oh, I don't think so," Timothy laughs, still smirking. His eyes roam over Brendon's cheek, and his smile widens. "Somebody else has been doing my job, I see. Who should I be congratulating?"

"Oh, just fuck off, would you?" Brendon asks, loudly, and then falls silent as a dark look passes over Timothy's face.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"I - look, it was an accident. Can't you just --"

Timothy, however, grabs the top of his hair - much like Rodney had, mere minutes before - and drags him into a toilet cubicle. Crazy thoughts rush through Brendon's mind as to what may be about to happen, but before he can really do anything to resist, his head is stuffed painfully into the toilet, his jaw smashing against the porcelain.

"Fuck!" he yells, pain shooting up his jawbone mercilessly. Timothy laughs, loudly, and flushed the toilet. Brendon shuts his eyes and mouth, as the water drenches over him, half-choking him. He splutters and shouts and struggles, but Timothy holds him firmly there. Once the flush dies down, he's released, and he falls back onto the tiles, breathing heavily, his hair and face dripping wet.

"I hope you haven't forgotten, Brendon," Timothy says, quietly, aiming a sharp kick into Brendon's side, causing the boy to slip even further on the floor, landing on his back and curling into a ball, his side in agony. "You and your little boyfriend are going to pay."

"Just -- just leave me alone," Brendon protests, weakly, causing Timothy to smirk.

"For now, I will," he agrees, kicks Brendon once more, and then saunters out of the bathroom, whistling to himself. Brendon can think of a thousand things he wants to do; murder Rodney, punch Timothy, fuck Ryan, just be with Ryan - and the thing that hurts the most isn't even his jaw or his sides or his hair.

It's the fact that he knows he can't do any of those things.

Five minutes later, as he sits down in History, he can't help but look towards the back of the class. Ryan is staring at him, looking stunned at his wet hair and his bruised jaw. Brendon looks away.

Ryan can't save him, and he can't save Ryan.

Fuck. He can't even save himself.