#taylorwilkinson

Things had been rough since Valentine’s - personally, sure, but also just in the town at large. It made him wish he hadn’t lied to Annie and alienated her so much, because he could really, honestly use the support. Even now that his name had been cleared - a miracle, really, because lord knows he hadn’t helped his own case - there were still whispers behind his back. Because scandal always dredged up scandal, and there was no better story than a suspected criminal with a history of violence and crime in the family. 

It was probably his own fault for deciding to go out that night, but after his most recent fight with Annie, he hadn’t had the energy to go home quite yet. So he sent her a text saying he’d be out late and not to worry about him - not a lie, but also intentionally vague - and decided to get a drink at a nearby bar. 

“Oi! You’re that guy with that psycho brother, right?” a shout slurred out from the other side of the bar. Elijah turned reluctantly in his seat to see a burly, clearly inebriated man coming towards him. 

“No, I think you’ve got the wrong person,” Elijah replied shortly, jaw clenched, using every inch of restraint he had not to explode right then and there. If the guy would just leave him alone, that could be it, and he could finish his drink... well, not exactly in peace, anymore, but at least in quiet.

“No, I recognize you!” the man pushed on. “Parrish something. Your brother went full Columbine. Yo, bartender! You got a metal detector in here?” he jeered. “You might want to check this guy for-” 

He never got to finish his sentence, as Elijah lunged forward, his fist exploding in pain as it came in contact with the other man’s jaw. It was a stupid, impulsive move, fueled by idiotic, blinding rage, and little else. Certainly not his brain, which until seconds ago had assessed that Elijah didn’t even stand a chance against him in a fight. If there was any solace in at least being right on that front, it was beat out of him in the first returned punch. The copper taste of blood filled his mouth, and he endured a second and third punch before anyone was finally able to get to the pair and pull them apart. 

“You fucking bastard!” Elijah spat, wild even with the pain. “You’re a fucking bastard!”