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You're just a stupid slut, like the rest of them.

Though, why doesn’t he think that? What he wants to be thinking. But the thought won't stick like it should be doing, and underneath it, something else keeps surfacing, a certain feeling that pounds against his chest whenever he sees you.

It's quite obvious, and that thought alone itself is infuriating. You're just an utter nobody outside of school and in. An orphan. No parents, no legacy, no reason for anyone to care, no Rick Owens. I mean one of Bailey's strays, destined to be chewed up and spat out in this town like the rest. 

But why does that thought alone make his chest feel tight? 

He hates that, and he hates you.

He told himself, at first he wanted to win you over purely as a matter of selfish means. That he felt this way because he didn’t want to lose face in front of his friends.

But I was wrong.

I'm in love with–

"Hey man, isn't that your slut over there." 

One of his friends comment cut through his train of thoughts, the other beside him snickering along beside him as he nudges him, making him jerk his attention toward the school gate where PC stood elbows near Robin. “The two of them are really a pair, two orphans beside each other.” Though nothing of what they said went through his ear, you look like a mess from where he stood from, like you had a run in with a pack dogs or something. He’s attempted to ask if you're okay–

Ah.

What was he thinking right about now?

Having dorky thoughts, almost like that creepy Kylar kid.

Though, thinking of him.

He should really do something about Kylar, during Halloween. That little freak has been looking at you wrong for weeks, and it's starting to get on his nerves. Not that he cares.

He and his group starts moving towards them.

"Well, isn't it my favorite orphan of the day," His voice smooth as he drapes his arm across your shoulders before you can move, pulling you close to his side. Away from Robin. 

You resist. Just a little. A small pull backward, toward Robin. His grip tightens.

Slut doesn't know how to appreciate my presence, unbelievable, he's doing you a favor right about now.

"Hey." He tips his head, addressing Robin like as if he was fly bugging them right now even though he came up to them first. "You don't mind if I use them for a bit, do you?" 

Robin's jaw tightens, something barely noticeable.

Ha.

Is that hostile he senses? For a moment. Just a small moment–he thinks the wimp might actually try something or say something. 

Though.

It quickly passes as his group shifts, closing in, just a little bit of peer pressure, Robin looks towards pc as if wanting them to say something, but nothing is said. 

Your face is blank, as if telling him, 'don't try. Just let it happen. It's easier this way. '. robin sees it.

His shoulders slump, as the realization settles over him, nothing is going to be said.

Ha. Not even gonna try after that small display of defiance? Pathetic.

"I hate to waste time," Whitney says, already pulling you away. His hand wraps around your arm, the hold–not gentle, not rough either, somewhere just in between where he doesn't have to worry about you pulling away. "So we'll get going now. Don't worry about your orphan friend, you’ll have them back soon." 

He's already turning, already dragging you toward out the gate, when Robin's voice cuts through the air as he tries to say bye, “PC!” he shouts, “I’ll see __ ____ _  __ __ back safe!” 

The walk is mostly silent.

His friends trail behind for a while, cracking jokes, lighting cigarettes, but as they reach Nightingale Street, Whitney waves them off. 

"Go, hang out at the park without me. I have something to take care of." They don't question, and say their 'see you later' to him. They veer off toward the park, laughter fading into the distance, until it's just the two of you. The silence stretches, until he says something, “I’m getting you fixed up, I can’t stand you looking like a mess, did you even do your hair today?” His voice is gruff, almost annoyed that he’s having to do this for you. Stupid slut, just happy to look like a mess.

You say something in banter back at him, though it passes through one ear and out the next as you're dragged off still.

The two of you continue to walk as he leads you around the corner and onto High Street, the shopping center looms straight up ahead of you guys.

His grip loosens on your arm as he guides you inside. Just a little.

Just enough for you to pull away, if you wanted to.

That afternoon, after he'd sent you home