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r, his feet feeling like dead weight as he urged them to take small steps.
And then he heard something. Breathing. It came in short, harsh breaths alon
g with hard, fast-paced footsteps nearing him at a dead run. Only, it wasn’t
coming from in front of Frank at all. Frank spun around and braced himself.
His hands flew up in natural defense, and as a body nearly collided with hi
s own from out of nowhere he gripped at its shoulders, holding the heavy for
ce at bay as he prepared himself to strike back if necessary.
“Frank!”
Frank stared into familiar hazel eyes and a flushed face. But still, he wasn’
t satisfied until he took notice of his own clothes below the other boy’s nec
k and allowed himself a relieved breath.
“Jesus, Oliver,” Frank whispered in a hoarse voice. He let go of Oliver, but
stood next to him so that they were shoulder to shoulder as he redirected h
is attention to the suspicious shadows. He wanted the contact. Any contact.
Any comfort. At the moment, Oliver provided it.
“I don’t know where he went,” Frank said quietly. “Did you see him?”
Oliver shook his head, seeming uneasy. “We should go back, Frank. Your m
om said to come back.”
Frank narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. “Some asshole took pictures of m
y sister. Oliver, you’ve gotta tell me. Was it David?”
Oliver lowered his head. “David gets in trouble, Frank. I don’t want him to
get in trouble anymore.”
Frank frowned, and his guard faltered as he turned to face the other boy. “L
ook, if it’s David, you have to tell me, okay? What he did isn’t right, Oliv
er. He can’t... what he did was wrong. Very wrong. Do you get that? Oliver,
please...”
Frank paused in mid-sentence as shadows moved around him. As he turned, all
he could see was a flash of pale skin and a black jacket covering a tall f
igure that held a threat in his hand that promised an act of violence Frank
could only begin to comprehend. The thick branch was swung with purpose, b
ut not at Frank. It’s target was Oliver, he realized as they were rushed fr
om the side.
“Look out!” Frank shouted.
Oliver’s eyes widened as he dodged to his right, gasping in shock when he d
idn’t move quickly enough and the harsh wood cracked against his upper arm,
just below his shoulder. It was the beginning and the end of the attack, b
ut it was enough. Oliver fell as his attacker dropped the branch to flee.
This time, Frank was close enough. He dived and tackled, latching onto dark
clothing as he wrestled the perpetrator to the ground. He grabbed a thick sh
oulder, intent on rolling over the body beneath him, but took a sharp elbow
to the face for his troubles.
Blood flooded Frank’s mouth as his top lip split against his teeth and the p
ain subdued him long enough for his captive to struggle his way to freedom,
and then he was gone. Frank was left in a state no less than shock as he dab
bed at his bloody lip with the back of his wrist, wondering if he should pur
sue another chase. It was Oliver’s presence that decided for him.
“Are you alright?” Frank demanded as he crawled towards his friend, who was
now sitting on the ground, clutching at his injured arm with a red face an
d gritted teeth. “Oliver?” Frank lifted his hand, but stopped himself from
placing it on Oliver’s shoulder, for fear of worsening the pain. Instead, h
e carefully pried Oliver’s hand away from the injury and rolled up the slee
ve. The welt was visible already, swelling and bruising with every second t
hat passed. Frank cursed. “Did you see him?”
Oliver shook his head, and winced when Frank touched his tender injury, even
with gentle fingers. Frank stood, and held his hand out for Oliver to take.
“Come on,” Frank insisted. “Let’s get back.”
Oliver lifted his eyes to Frank’s face, where they suddenly widened. “You’re
bleeding, Frank!” Oliver said, as if it were his only concern in the world.
“I’m okay,” Frank insisted. “Come on, Oliver. I wanna make sure my sister’s
alright, and we need to get some ice on your arm. I don’t think it’s broke
n, but someone should look.”
“It’s not broken,” Oliver replied. “Just hurts real bad.”
Frank helped him to his feet, and while he was concerned over Oliver’s inju
ry, he was happy to have him there. Oliver knew the way back, and with his
guidance, they reached the house rather quickly where Jessica Seaberg was w
aiting at the front door with Rudy. She took one look at her son’s bloody f
ace---which Frank insisted looked worse than it was--and went into a full-o
n motherly assault unit as she dragged him to the kitchen, forced him down
at the table and forced a wet rag and bag of ice upon him.
“I can’t believe you!” she said angrily. “And look at you, Frank!”
Frank glanced towards Oliver as he sat nervously in a seat next to him, still
holding his arm while his mother turned her back and continued her tirade. H
e tried to offer a reassuring smile to his guest, but it came out as a grimac
e when Frank realized that that particular expression hurt. But, Oliver seeme
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