One Block Down, chapter 1
Mike Dirnt groggily left his fourth period class, wishing already that the day was over, but knowing that after school let out he'd have to be at work in an hour anyway. The non-stop schedule was definately catching up with him; he'd become more edgy lately, and had a much harder time relaxing. He was headed outside to the lunch tables where he usually met up with Billie Joe and the rest of their friends, when something else caught his eye.
Dustin Smithe, 195 pounds and six feet of ignorance. Mike narrowed his eyes and immediately redirecting his path as the quarterback's small group of football players all dispersed to other areas of the hallway. He walked with purpose, defiantly coming up behind Dustin's back as he shoved books into his locker. Mike raised his hands and pushed the heavier man hard, slamming his face into the sharp metal corner of the locker door.
"What the fuck?!," Dustin exclaimed, turning around quickly as Mike stepped back. He sneered. "Oh, well if it isn't little Mikey. You wanted to talk?" The football star remained scathing despite the throbbing pain in his temple. "Or did you sneak up behind me like that because you wanted to fuck me?"
Mike glared back at him menacingly. "Come off it, Smithe. Even if I was gay, I'm sure I'd have better taste than that."
"So what's this about then?," Dustin crossed his arms, tilting his head and mockingly pouting at Mike. "Did your boyfriend come crying to you after what I said to him yesterday?"
"Look, you may be able to get under some people's skin with that, but not mine," Mike told him pointedly. "Although I have to admit, I can see how irritating your fear of people that aren't like you gets. I just wanted to let you know, fuck with my friends again and you'll get more than a little bump on the head."
Dustin smirked maliciously. "What? You gunna kick my ass, Dirnt? I'm real spooked," he said. "If you wanna defend your fucking gay glory, let's go at it now, why don't we?"
Mike sneered back, reminiscent of Sid Vicious. He didn't even justify the other boy's comment with a reply, just pulled his fist back and let it connect with Dustin's jaw. The fingers of his right hand ached as he pulled it back, but he was willing to bet Dustin's face was experiencing more pain. 'He'll have a hard time smirking now,' Mike thought to himself.
Dustin took the time to lift his hand and touch his lip gingerly, then look at the blood collected on his fingers. His eyes darkened noticably and he reacted, grabbing Mike by the shoulders and throwing him into the lockers across the hall. While he may have been stronger, Mike was faster and by the time Dustin reached the other side of the hall Mike had recovered from hitting the metal and was prepared to retaliate.
This first punch Dustin threw was easily blocked by Mike, but the second wasn't. As his fist buried itself in Mike's stomach, the shorter boy doubled over. He was met by a knee to the nose. Somehow straightening himself up, he wiped the blood off of his face with the sleeve of his sweater. Dustin looked back at him coolly.
"We done here, yet, pansy boy? Or do I have to continue kicking your ass?," he asked with a smirk. Mike spit at him, the saliva mixed a bit of blood from his nose. Yes, he had to admit it was a stupid move - but then again, getting into this fight wasn't exactly a stroke of brilliance either.
Dustin grasped Mike's shoulders again and slammed him back into the lockers harshly. He looked him over, sneering in disgust. "You're lucky I don't have time to finish this right now, Dirnt." He emphasized his point with another punch, this time landing unabated just below Mike's right eye. Dustin stepped back and stalked off towards the gym, and Mike held his composure until the quarterback was out of sight.
Dustin Smithe, 195 pounds and six feet of ignorance. Mike narrowed his eyes and immediately redirecting his path as the quarterback's small group of football players all dispersed to other areas of the hallway. He walked with purpose, defiantly coming up behind Dustin's back as he shoved books into his locker. Mike raised his hands and pushed the heavier man hard, slamming his face into the sharp metal corner of the locker door.
"What the fuck?!," Dustin exclaimed, turning around quickly as Mike stepped back. He sneered. "Oh, well if it isn't little Mikey. You wanted to talk?" The football star remained scathing despite the throbbing pain in his temple. "Or did you sneak up behind me like that because you wanted to fuck me?"
Mike glared back at him menacingly. "Come off it, Smithe. Even if I was gay, I'm sure I'd have better taste than that."
"So what's this about then?," Dustin crossed his arms, tilting his head and mockingly pouting at Mike. "Did your boyfriend come crying to you after what I said to him yesterday?"
"Look, you may be able to get under some people's skin with that, but not mine," Mike told him pointedly. "Although I have to admit, I can see how irritating your fear of people that aren't like you gets. I just wanted to let you know, fuck with my friends again and you'll get more than a little bump on the head."
Dustin smirked maliciously. "What? You gunna kick my ass, Dirnt? I'm real spooked," he said. "If you wanna defend your fucking gay glory, let's go at it now, why don't we?"
Mike sneered back, reminiscent of Sid Vicious. He didn't even justify the other boy's comment with a reply, just pulled his fist back and let it connect with Dustin's jaw. The fingers of his right hand ached as he pulled it back, but he was willing to bet Dustin's face was experiencing more pain. 'He'll have a hard time smirking now,' Mike thought to himself.
Dustin took the time to lift his hand and touch his lip gingerly, then look at the blood collected on his fingers. His eyes darkened noticably and he reacted, grabbing Mike by the shoulders and throwing him into the lockers across the hall. While he may have been stronger, Mike was faster and by the time Dustin reached the other side of the hall Mike had recovered from hitting the metal and was prepared to retaliate.
This first punch Dustin threw was easily blocked by Mike, but the second wasn't. As his fist buried itself in Mike's stomach, the shorter boy doubled over. He was met by a knee to the nose. Somehow straightening himself up, he wiped the blood off of his face with the sleeve of his sweater. Dustin looked back at him coolly.
"We done here, yet, pansy boy? Or do I have to continue kicking your ass?," he asked with a smirk. Mike spit at him, the saliva mixed a bit of blood from his nose. Yes, he had to admit it was a stupid move - but then again, getting into this fight wasn't exactly a stroke of brilliance either.
Dustin grasped Mike's shoulders again and slammed him back into the lockers harshly. He looked him over, sneering in disgust. "You're lucky I don't have time to finish this right now, Dirnt." He emphasized his point with another punch, this time landing unabated just below Mike's right eye. Dustin stepped back and stalked off towards the gym, and Mike held his composure until the quarterback was out of sight.
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