Author's Notes: All right. So. Here I am. With a story and stuff and this is all great. Yeah, right. Anyway, if I told you where this idea came from, you'd call me crazy. So let's not go there. I don't have much to say here. Oh well.

Summary: Five different guys from five different ends of society. One punk, one preppy, one badass, one stoner, one Catholic boy. What happens when you set them in a high school setting where violence seems to be the top priority? Well, this. (strong yaoi, swearing, violence)

Note: 'Shea' is pronounced 'shae.' Not shee-uh. Shae. And Noelle is pronounced exactly how it looks.


Chapter One

Written by Firefly-chan

A punch in the face—in Noelle's opinion—wasn't exactly appropriate at nine o'clock in the morning. Especially when you were high and the only time you had slept was during the eighty-three minutes in your first hour English class.

Noelle groaned softly from his spot on the school's main hallway floor, his voice muffled from the hand he had covering his mouth and nose. Nope. A punch in the face was definitely not what he had wanted, and he would be damned to stand up again and receive another one. So, instead, he just lay there with (what seemed like) the entire student body of his high school surrounding him, chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

'No, you stupid jackasses,' he thought miserably, curling himself up into a ball in a feeble attempt to block out their annoying voices. 'I'm not fighting with some asshole that towers over me, no matter how much you all wish to see me get my ass kicked to hell and back.'

Really, what had he done to deserve all this in the first place? He had been minding his own business, walking to his next class like any normal student as Roosevelt High School, when all the sudden this guy came around the corner and ran right into him. Because Noelle was relatively sane for his age, he knew that this was just an unfortunate accident and, therefore, he could continue on with his daily life. He nodded to the guy and bent down to pick up the books that had fallen from his hands, only except when he straightened, he was met with an oh-so delightful punch in the face.

The damned guy had gotten him in the mouth and jaw, no doubt. Right at his vulnerable spot, right where it was going to hurt the most, right where his lip piercing was. Briefly, Noelle wondered if the impact of the punch had torn his lip, although he couldn't taste any blood. But that was probably due to the fact that his whole face was numb.

"Why the hell are you just lying there?" he heard the guy ask, nudging Noelle's leg with his foot.

Noelle cringed, bringing his hand away from his mouth so he could speak. "Because a staff member of this school will be coming down this hall any minute," he said as nonchalantly as he could, "and if I just lie here, I will undoubtedly look like the victim of this situation. Which I am, but—you know—this is my proof."

That statement only earned him a sharp kick to the ribs. Noelle bit down on his tongue to prevent from gasping in pain and curled into a tighter ball. What did it take for a person to just get the picture and leave? Noelle firmly believed that there were some people in his high school that needed to attend anger management class and stay there indefinitely. He was only a sophomore and already he had gotten the shit beaten out of him several times for stupid, little things that shouldn't have even mattered. But apparently to these people, little thing made the world go 'round.

Noelle faintly heard a frustrated growl from above him, before he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and hauled up from the ground and slammed against a locker. Well, this was great. Five minutes of this mini-riot had gone by and there was still no sign of a teacher. Things like this always happened to him.

"Hey, listen," Noelle started, focusing his attention to the pissed off senior holding him to the locker, "can't we talk this out?"

Another blow to the face, and Noelle took that as a "hell no." By this time, the posse that had been chanting and whistling had departed to their second hour classes. Now only a few guys with big glasses were standing around in a feeble attempt to lose their title as "losers" and redeem the label of a "rebel." Since they certainly weren't going to do him any help, Noelle tried to shove the guy off him, but he was kept pinned rather effectively. It seemed rather strange to Noelle that he was being held down and beaten at the same time, but this guy was obviously multitasked.

Just when Noelle was going to pass out for the hell of it and so he would (hopefully) stop being beaten, he was released. He heard a female voice speaking to him and felt soft hands holding him up, but he couldn't comprehend any of it. His mind was elsewhere. Elsewhere on Hawaii in some expensive hotel with Britney Spears by his side who was flirting shamelessly with him.

"Oh, Britney," he murmured dazedly, dropping his head back against the locker with a half grin on his face. "Britney, you're too much."

"Britney?" the female voice scoffed. "Child, you must be joking."

Noelle snapped back to reality when he felt a stinging sensation across his face. He groaned and opened his eyes, pushing away the taller female body that was a little too close to him for comfort. There, only three feet from him, stood his lifelong best friend, Ellen Johnson. She folded her arms over her chest and stared at him in almost an expectant way, her brows steadily raising.

"What are you looking at?" Noelle asked, annoyed, looking away from her.

Her brows, if possible, raised even further. "I saved your ass, Noelle, so I say that pretty much gives me the right to look at you whenever I want."

"I could have handled it, you know," he snapped, glowering at his smirking friend.

"Of course you could've," she said, leaning foreword and grabbing his arm. "But I think right now I need to take you to the nurse."

Though pouting, Noelle allowed himself to be lead down the nearly abandoned hall. To be honest, Ellen pissed him off a lot. What, with her annoying calm attitude towards just about everything and the way she never raised her voice to anything or anyone. She was one of the very few people could piss him off to the point where he could just take a gun to his head to stop her endless yapping. Yet, of course, he was too much of a chickenshit to that, and when it came down to it, Ellen did more good than she did bad.

"What the hell was with the stuff about Britney?" Ellen asked, glancing at him from over her shoulder. "I thought you were gay?"

Noelle glared at her, brushing his hair away from his eyes. Ellen broke into a wide smile, tightened her fingers around his wrist and pulled him into the nurse's office.


Walker Garret was pissed off. First, some little blonde haired punk runs into him and doesn't even spare him an apology. Then, while he was beating the kid's face in, some cunt pushed him away and threatened to "cut off his balls if he didn't leave." That, and she'd go to the principal of the high school to tattle on him. Which would be the reason why he skipped second period and left that damned school altogether. Besides, he figured if he had just gone to class in the first place, he would have been kicked out anyway. What would be the point? And he was a senior. Missing a couple classes wasn't going to kill him or cost him his diploma, especially when he already had all his credits.

For awhile, he just drove around aimlessly. It only took him awhile to cool down, but even so, he didn't really feel like going back to school or going home to his parents' house. Walker tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of his car, turning a corner into a small neighborhood a couple miles from his school.

Alex Wallberg would have been a junior this year, if he hadn't dropped out of high school while he was a sophomore. Which was why Walker was almost positive that Alex was home when he pulled into the empty lot of a small, white house with little green shutters covering every window.

Alex was one of Walker's close friends. He had known the guy since first grade, and since they both had been torturing some helpless kindergarten student the day they met, they found good company out of one another. Sure, they were good friends, even though they had punched each other too many times to count. Not to mention, Walker did supposedly "steal" Alex's girlfriend from him when he was in the seventh grade. But none of that mattered now. Alex, for the most part, was a listener, and Walker knew he could trust him enough to be open with him.

The brass doorknob, that was marred and streaked with rust, looked extremely out of place on the Wallberg's huge cherry-wood, stained-glass front door. Hell, the knob even creaked when Walker turned it. He sighed and shook his head, pushing the door open and taking a step inside. The hallway was dark. Which gave the impression that the house was empty, but Walker could faintly hear the television from the next room.

He shrugged off his coat and removed his driving gloves, taking another glance around him.

"Alex?" he called, shoving his hands into his pockets and slowly making his way down the hall.

"Alex went next door!" piped the immediate response from the living room.

Both eyebrows went up at this, and Walker descended further down the hall. He turned into the next room, and—lo and behold—there sat the 8th grade boy that Alex always seemed to be babysitting. He was sitting on the couch, brown hair tangled and mussed, Playstation controller in hand, eyes glued to the television screen. In fact, he didn't even look up when Walker came into the room.

"Oh, it's only you, Shea," Walker said, feigning surprise. "By the sound of your voice, I thought you were Alex's latest girlfriend."

Without taking his eyes from the screen, Shea raised both his hand and middle finger. Walker rolled his eyes and dropped down beside him, ruffling his hair until the moved away.

"What's up, kiddo?" he asked, flicking him on the ear. "Don't you have school today?"

Shea glanced from the television to give Walker a serious, stern look. "Don't even joke about that," he said, pausing his game. "The Catholic schools have this Friday off, remember? And then we have Monday off too."

"That's your spring break?" Walker asked incredulously. "We have all of next week off."

"Yeah, yeah," Shea muttered, returning yet again to his game. "Don't rub it in."

The game that Shea was playing appeared to be very violent, Walker noticed. And it might have seemed weird for any other person to find a soft-spoken Catholic boy playing a high-rated, gory game, but Shea wasn't exactly your regular religious little school kid. He read a lot and swore a lot and didn't like it when people told him what to do or when people touched him. Shea didn't show much affection to anyone… except Alex. Walker swore up and down that the damn kid made Alex out to be a god or something.

Sometimes, though, it struck Walker as a little strange. He could remember when he was in middle school and elementary school and when he had a babysitter, and he was damn sure that he didn't look up to them. Babysitters were a pain in the ass. Making you go to bed on time, forbidding you from certain foods, the whole works. And Walker was pretty sure that Alex made Shea go to bed on time and did all that other stuff that babysitters were supposed to do. Yet he still looked up to him and he still made Alex seem like he was perfect or something. The whole thing was a bit weird.

"I think I need to find Alex a girlfriend," Walker murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair.

Shea blinked and looked over to him. "What?"

"Nothing. Nevermind."

Sighing, Walker stood and exited the living room. He had left school to clear his head and calm down, and while he had managed to accomplish that for a little while, he was thinking far too much for his liking. Whenever he was around Shea, he got this sad feeling. Walker didn't want to be a senior in high school and he didn't want to graduate in the next few months and he didn't want to go to college. He wanted to be in 8th grade again where he could fail a class and it wouldn't even matter.

He pushed open the swinging door at the end of the hall that led to the kitchen. Hopefully Alex had some painkillers in one of the kitchen cupboards, as Walker's head was killing him. He trailed his hand over the smooth marble of the kitchen counter, pausing for a moment to observe his surroundings.

Alex's family was very well off, and it was apparent by the chic style and elegance each room of this house had. Every table was either made of marble or some expensive wood. Every lamp was made of crystal or was specially made for the Wallberg family by some French or German designer. Every rug was made of Egyptian cotton or of lambskin or chenille. Everything looked as if it was expensive.

'If everything's so expensive,' Walker thought, opening a cupboard door, 'then why can't they get a new damn doorknob?'

"Hey, Walker. What're you doing here?"

Walker smiled slightly at the sound of the slightly drunken, deep voice and glanced over his shoulder to see Alex standing there in all his blonde, pretty boy glory. He was leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, fixing his tie and looking at Walker blankly. Walker grabbed the bottle of aspirin from the cupboard and turned around, nodding to him.

"Stealing your aspirin," he said, holding up the bottle.

Alex cracked a tired smile, rubbing the palm of his hand against his eye. "Oh really? I should have figured."

Nodding to his exhausted looking friend, Walker turned and grabbed a glass off the counter, filling it with water. Alex appeared next to him a couple moments later, taking the bottle of aspirin from him, opening it, and dumping two pills onto the counter.

'Alex, you have issues,' Walker thought, picking up the pills and popping them into his mouth.

"Shitty day at school?" Alex asked, sitting down on a stool at the kitchen table.

"I guess you could say that," he replied, downing the pills and dropping the glass into the sink. "Can you tell?"

Alex shrugged. "Not really. But I can't exactly think of any other reason why you would be here except school."

"Some kid ran into me today," Walker said slowly, taking a seat across from him. "Blonde hair, brown eyes, lip and eyebrow piercing. Pretty short. And a smartass. You know him?"

Alex sat back in his chair, his expression going from blank to thoughtful. After sitting there for a couple seconds and muttering a quick "be right back," Alex got up and went back into the hallway. He came back a moment later with a newspaper clipping in his hand and tossed it on the table in front of Alex.

"You mean that kid?" Alex asked, nodding to the clipping.

Walker picked up the clipping and studied for a moment, before speaking, "Yeah. Him. Who is he?"

"Noelle Brigam. Sixteen years old. Sophomore in high school. Five feet and five inches tall. One hundred and ten pounds. A bit of an asshole. Stoner. Never does his homework. Sleeps a lot in class."

Walker gave him another strange look.

Alex shrugged again, sticking his hands into his jean pockets.

Maybe it was best Walker didn't know how Alex knew all of that. Scratching the back of his head, he inquired quickly, "Well, there was this brown haired chick that stopped me. She seemed to know him—"

"Ellen Johnson," Alex cut him off, flattening his hands on the table and leaning foreword. "Sixteen years old. Junior in high school due to the fact that she skipped second grade. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Five feet and ten inches. One hundred and twenty-seven pounds."

"… Okay, now you're just creeping me out."

Alex shrugged again and pushed himself on top of the counter, picking up the newspaper clipping and studying it. "I'm a creepy guy," he said casually. "But, anyway, you started a fight with Noelle?"

"He ran into me."

"So that immediately gives you the right to beat the crap out of him?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, I'm just saying," Alex began, hopping off the counter and flicking the clipping back at him. "Aren't you afraid that he's going to go run off and his friends are going to hunt you down and kick your ass for hurting their beloved guru?"

Walker stared at him blankly.

Rolling his eyes, Alex opened the refrigerator and took out a soda. Saluting to his friend who was still looking at him, he exited the kitchen. Walker looked back down to the clipping, tapping his hand on the side of the table. Noelle, huh? Interesting name, you know, if you were a pussy-whipped mama's boy.

'Don't run into me again, kid,' he thought, staring at the picture of Noelle. 'For your own good.'

He crumpled up the clipping and threw it into the garbage and left the Wallberg house without bothering to say goodbye.


End Notes: Yeah, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking about how Walker and Noelle are going to end up… stop thinking it. Right now. You haven't been introduced to all the characters yet, so halt. .;; Thanks. Anyway, that's the first chapter. And… yeah, I think I'm done here. R/R.