Rewrite of an old fanfic. Drugs, sex, and rock 'n roll: that's how we roll. [Slash, Multiple Pairings]
I lost my ignorance, security and pride
I'm all alone in a world you must despise
Hey God, I believed the promises, the promises and lies:.
Pip is too small for his own good.
He's also, apparently, too British and too feminine as well.
At least, those are the three major reasons for these constant attacks, and he's almost getting upset by them. Still, he's used to them, so he's not so surprised or upset when he's grabbed and dragged into the janitor's room, the door slamming shut and clicking locked in an ominous sort of way.
It's hard to listen to the counselors who have told him, time and time again, just to lie down and pretend to pass out, and he wonders in a brief moment of clarity if they actually know what they're talking about.
They slam him up against the wall, a few anonymous faces in the crowd of Middle Park High, and he drags air in through constricted passageways. They jeer at him and then They slam him back again, knocking his head against crumbling plaster and causing him to see spots. He reels for a moment and comes back in time for a fist in his gut, shoving air out of him and causing him to wheeze.
The counselors always told him not to cry, because that's what they wanted, but he can't help himself right now - it's almost a reflex at this point, and he can feel the tears stinging his eyes even without Them telling him.
"Aw," They say in a snide voice, "Is little Frenchy gonna cry?"
"P-Please," he rasps unevenly, wondering why he's talking and why he's begging Them to just leave him alone when that never helps.
"Little faggot Frenchy's crying!" They caw, like a murder of crows.
He wipes at the tears and then sobs weakly when They grab him by either arm and They take turns kicking him.
They finally let go as the bell rings for lunch, and he drops down, coughing hoarsely, trying hard to keep breathing and to stop crying.
There's a crack and he finds that his head hurts, and he's on his side, and he's /throwing up/.
"Shit, dude," They mutter, "You kicked him right in the fucking head."
"Let's get the fuck outta here before those fags come looking for him."
Pip hears the door click unlocked and slam shut, and the room is very cold and he's very alone.
The thunder of footsteps outside the door seems both incredibly close and terribly far away, and he tries to form a word but instead he just dry heaves. He kind of wishes his bag weren't lying out in the hall, because he has a cell phone and he really should use it.
But who would he call, when anyone could be Them?
His breath still isn't coming to him and he can see black seeping in around the edge of the room, like something out of a horror movie.
"Please," he gasps, but this time there's no one to hurt him for it. "/Please/..."
He hears laughter and a deep but nasally voice shout expletives and he moans. "Eric," he rasps, trying to move but god his head hurts and he can't smell anything but vomit.
"H-Hey, isn't th-that Pip's b-bag?" Butters calls from outside.
"Shit," Kenny drawls, "I guess he left it here in a hurry to avoid some kind of beating."
Pip tries to laugh and sobs a little instead. He rolls over onto his back and stares at the ceiling.
"Grab it and I'll call him," Stan says, "He's probably at the cafeteria with Damien."
"You'd think that son of a bitch would keep an eye on him!" Cartman's voice echoes in Pip's brain and he wants so badly to breathe regularly rather than this gasp-pant-wheeze.
He hears shuffling and their voices fade and he realizes suddenly that he's still alone.
Kenny tells Stan Pip's number as if it was his own, and the boy hits the send button as they walk into the cafeteria.
The generic Nokia tune picks up and Butters looks to Pip's bag in confusion, as if it's just given him a really hard math problem. Kenny realizes very quickly that they've missed something important, and he turns around.
"Where'd we find his bag?" he asks, and Cartman shrugs in response.
"By the janitor's closet," Kyle responds idly, searching his wallet for enough money for lunch, "Why?"
Kenny takes off running and it's only a moment later when Kyle realizes why it's so important.
Pip drags himself to his feet and stumbles in the general direction of the door, only to realize he's actually now just stumbling to the shelves of cleaning products. He moves again and now he's on the ground with a burst bottle of bleach and sawdust all over the place. He almost laughs at his situation, but for some reason he's feeling nauseous again. His skin starts to tingle as the door shudders.
"Pip!" Cartman screeches and god he's never been happier to hear the other boy. He opens his mouth to respond but he tastes something horrible and realizes that he's just gotten bleach in his mouth.
At least his clothes are clean.
He giggles and then rolls onto his stomach, vomiting.
"Fuck, open the fucking door!" Cartman shouts, fists still pounding outside. There's a jingle and a click and the door unlocks.
Pip moans when he sees Kyle running to him.
"Oh /fuck/, Cartman, help me pick him up!" the redhead shrieks.
"He's fucking covered in puke," the overweight boy responds, but he's still coming over and lifting Pip up. The blonde's never been happier to see Cartman's face.
"M-My s-s-skin," he rasps.
"Shit, fuck, we need to wash this bleach off of him, /now/."
There's movement and /god /it's just like sixth grade all over again, and he feels someone grab his hand. Even without Cartman's insistence for Butters to get out of the way, he would have known it was him.
The bathroom, for some odd reason, smells really clean and he gags, coughing violently because it /stinks/.
Cartman's fumbling with his coat and pants and he hears water running and paper towels being dispensed, but it's all chaotic and he doesn't know what's going on until his skin really starts to hurt and he manages to see a few little red marks appearing.
He moans when Kenny kneels down and starts wiping him off, and if he weren't so close to the other he's try to scratch some of the blistering skin off because it /hurts/.
"Hey, Phil," Kenny mumbles, "It's okay now. What happened? You need to call one of us when this happens, okay?"
Pip shudders and rasps, "They k-kicked me in th-the /head/."
"/Shit/," Kyle rasps, "I'm gonna go get the nurse. Keep him here, I'll be right back."
Kyle leaves and as the door swings shut he can hear someone asking what's wrong. Moments later and Wendy's kneeling in front of him, using paper towels to clean his hair a little. She makes the softest noises and tells him to relax, and he feels that he should trust her even if he doesn't.
He waves them away slightly and Kenny helps him crawl to a stall, where he pushes the taller blonde away and locks himself in. He tries to throw up because his stomach hurts, and instead he starts sobbing.
Kyle comes back with the nurse and she's called the hospital.
He falls asleep to them asking him to open the door.
When he opens his eyes he's alone.
At least, that's what he thinks, until he manages to turn his head to the side - he's hooked up to an IV and he's in the damned hospital. Again.
Damien has his boots on the bedside table, leaning back in an uncomfortable hospital chair and reading /Playboy/.
The magazine is instantly discarded and Damien has his hands on his shoulders.
"Don't you/ ever fucking /go /anywhere without me, /you stupid fucking Brit!"
Pip tries to smile because it's just Damien being worried, but he's not surprised to find himself starting to tear up again.
Damien lays his head against his shoulder and says, "What the fuck are you putting me through?" in that hoarse, tenor voice that almost sounds wheezy because he smokes too much.
"I...I'm s-sorry, Damien," Pip mumbles.
"/Fuck/ being sorry," the black haired boy rasps, "You shouldn't be sorry for this."
"...How l-long was I out?" Pip asks, because he realizes that he's clean and the sterile room doesn't smell like bleach.
"A day," the son of Satan responds, "Everyone's at school right now."
"You should be too..."
"Damien," Pip sighs, "Please, stop... stop swearing."
Pip winces and asks, against his better judgment, "Why are you here?"
"Because..." Damien sighs, looks away, and settles for, "Because you're my /friend/."
Pip, for some reason, doesn't quite believe it.
Even though it doesn't seem like it, Pip knows exactly what his problem is. His problem is that he's too small, too British, and too feminine for his own good. His problem is that he listens too much to counselors and not enough to people who care, like Damien, who told him /don't go anywhere without me/. But even with Damien's insistence, there are times when the other boy is gone - when They sneak in.
He gags and curls against the wall and the bell rings.
They laugh; one kicks him in the stomach, and says, "Fuckin' hell, you're /pathetic/."
Pip coughs and stands, picks his hat up and dusts it off. His pants are torn at one knee but he could care less right now. He's late for first period and he's surprised to find Damien sitting in the back, not even looking at him as he walks in.
So much for friends.