The Kings of Kentworth

84.

The first one hundred and twenty seconds in the car was quiet.

Trevor had his eyes on the road and his hands on the wheel, while Lance had his face turned to his window; looking out at the trees swooshing by in green blurs in the night.

His lips still stung, the sharp pain was still on his right side and his neck hurt when he tried to turn. He raised his fingers and touched the space between his nose and his mouth. For a moment, he had forgotten he was bleeding and some of the blood there had dried now.

"Here," Lance heard Trevor's voice before he turned to him and saw him stretching a piece of what looked like tissue paper towards him.

Lance took his eyes away from the offering and faced the road before him.

"No thanks."

"Dude, you're bleeding."

"I'll wash my nose when I get home."

Trevor gave out a frustrated sigh before he dropped his arm. "Stop acting like a girl, man."

Lance turned to him and scowled. "Fuck you."

"Hey," Trevor darted his eyes from the road to Lance and then back to the road. "It wasn't my fault you got your ass kicked."

"Just shut the hell up and take me home please," Lance countered with his eyes trained forward.

There was silence for about thirty seconds or more, before Trevor spoke again.

"What the hell were you doing there anyway?" he asked. "'cause I sure as hell know Bruce didn't invite you over."

Lance said nothing. He kept his eyes forward and seemed to glare at the darkness before him.

"You're lucky you know," Trevor went on. "The guys had you beat up in public."

Lance turned his eyes to Trevor. It pissed him off a little at how relaxed Trevor appeared to be. What was he really doing in his car anyway?

Trevor shrugged and went on. "Normally they would have taken you out and beaten you up real good."

Lance's brows furrowed. Disbelief immediately flooded his features as his eyes seemed to bore into Trevor. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

The insensitive bastard.

Lance then looked away; throwing his eyes out the windscreen while holding himself from reaching out and punching Trevor in the face. As mad as he was, he also felt like an idiot. He had watched Trevor and Lisa leave the party and head up stairs. He didn't even want to imagine what they had been doing there.

He had wanted to block it all out because the hurt was way too much for him to handle. He had heard about the party and he had also dragged his ass out here to see if he could finally clear the air about what was going on between them. But instead, he came over and met someone who wasn't even willing look at him, let alone talk to him.

He had spent close to twenty-five minutes in a bus to get here, only to get slapped in the face with the fact that he had just wasted his time. He was getting drunk and close to sobbing as he drowned himself in alcohol downstairs, while Trevor and Lisa were busy fucking their brains out just above him.

The pain was excruciating and remembering it alone seemed to make his eyes water a little.

Now, here they were, he had offered to take him home and he had agreed. A part of Lance seemed to think that after seeing what had happened to him back there, Trevor would want to know why he really came over. He thought Trevor would want to know why he had gotten himself drunk and pissed off a group of boys enough for them to beat him silly. But no. Instead, Trevor was being a jerk. Telling him how lucky he was that they had not taken him to a dark alley or something and beaten him severely.