(2016-11-27) Of Bruised Knuckles
Of Bruised Knuckles
Summary: Besa returns home, only to find more drama. (Thanks Grayson!)
Date: 2016-11-27
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://coralsprings.wikidot.com/logtitle)
NPCs: Players go below, other chars that deserve mention can be listed here
Scene Runner: Who ran this scene, NA if no-one or mutual

Gym Coral Springs
Sun Nov 27, 2016 — Sun Nov 27 19:44:38 2016

A massive dome overhead is completely revealing of the ocean above it. This is a full size gym, with basketball hoops along the walls ready for play. Ropes hanging from a secion of that dome ceiling ready to be climbed are tied off to not impede on gym floor activity. Excersize equipment and weights are off to the far end. At anytime the floor can be sectioned off for multiple team games to be played if needed. There are locker rooms for girls and boys to one side and opposite this are wooden bleachers that can be pulled out if needed for spectators. Opposite the bleachers there is a rock climbing wall, that goes right up to the dome itself overhead.

Besa's been home an hour or so, and in that time he's gone from fine and relaxed to tense and upset. It may be a record for the Egyptian boy. But strangely, he's went to the gym and has been in here for some time. It may not be impressive to many, but he's tired himself out. Currently he's laying on a mat on his back, panting heavily. His pretty locks are splayed out around his head in a halo. The teen's knuckles look red and bruised, like maybe he's punched something, but strangely his nails are painted a deep, almost black red. No one else is ion the gym currently.

It's a late night with students just returning from vacations, so an empty gym isn't unusual. Whitley prefers it this way anyway. Fewer people to see him mess up. He does enter the massive gym, this time without even stopping to look up at the deep ocean above. He's getting used to the sight. Gripped gently in both hands is that familiar weapon. A katana that has been the source of past gym drama.

Of course, he immediately notices the body sprawled out on the mat. His first thought is a corpse, but a second later, he sees that the body is indeed breathing. A few more seconds later and some steps forward, he recognizes the student as Besa. Walking over, his steps are quiet, out of instinct, and he crouches over the other boy with a curious look on his face. "Trip didn't go too well then?"

<FS3> Besa rolls Alertness: Great Success.

Besa's eyes are closed, like he's trying to concentrate on his berthing. he doesn't jerk when Whitley speaks, he most likely heard him enter the gym. Although as soon as he realizes it's Whitley, his eyes open and he looks up at the boy towering over him. "My trip was fine." Clearly something isn't fine. He studies Whit, like him being in this position is the most normal thing, "How was your holiday?"

"Mostly dull, but some interesting things did happen while you were away," Whitley is studying Besa too, that curious expression still across his face. "I'm glad your trip went alright." But he doesn't sound entirely convinced. He was half expecting it to end in disaster already, and Besa is currently laying on a mat in an empty gym. His eyes travel from that crown of hair down to Besa's hands. "Nice paint," He says, grinning. The smirk fades when he notices those raw knuckles. He cautiously reaches over to lift Besa's hand and examines the bruises with worried eyes. "What happened?"

Besa's face is hard to read, but those dark eyes stay on Whit, like he's trying to read him. "It was for the holiday." The painted nails, that is. He let's the taller boy lift his hand, the bruises are recent enough his knuckles are still warm. "I apparently do not remember how to box." He used to box?

"You box?" A brow rises in disbelief, but Whitley gives Besa a lopsided smile. "We should spar sometime then. I mean, I usually end up murdering my sparring partners," That could be a joke, but there was Grayson. "But I think I can hold back for you." He looks back at the nails. "A gift from Schuyler, then?"

Besa's brow furrows, "I did, yes." Who does no one believe him about things like that? If it's a joke, Besa doesn't seem amused. But then again, he doesn't seem scared either. Mayeb it's because he's actually been murdered before? "I would not want you it. it is was sparring." His eyes finally drop from Whit's face to where he's holding Besa's hand. "Schuyler painted them, if that is what you mean."

"Then I won't pull any punches," Whitley smirks. "But be prepared to get wrecked." His gaze drops to his hand as well. "That was nice of him. All is well, then?" Still not convinced maybe? His thumb softly brushes over the red knuckles. "We should probably get you gloves if you plan on hitting things."

Besa is concerned with Whitley's definitely of 'sparring', but that's for a later conversation. "Schuyler and I are fine." His head tilts when the finger goes over his knuckles, confused. "Most likely." He's been told he needs gloves for many things. Why not boxing too? So many barriers between him and the rest of the world. Still laying on the ground, he doesn't pull his hand away. Instead his gaze goes from the hand holding his to Whitley's face, "What interesting things happened?"

"Most definitely. Especially if you plan on hitting things when you're angry." Whitley frowns, watching the younger boy. This uncharacteristic behavior is actually starting to unsettle him. If Besa and Sky are good now, what could be bothering Besa? At that last question, the sophomore drops Besa's hand back on the mat as if just realizing that he's still holding it. "Grayson made an interesting offer. Like a date, I guess."

Besa lets his hand fall, only stoping when it's about ready to hit the mat. Then he just lays it down. His head turns an inch to better look at the older boy. "And what did you say?" His voice is even. Maybe a touch too even? It's very obvious he's studying Whitley and his response.

Whitley frowns. He was expecting some surprise or shock, not…indifference. Or whatever this is. "I just told him I'd consider it." Brows furrow. "I've never really done the whole dating thing before. Definitely not with a guy. Grayson also punched me. A lot." Yeah, he hasn't fully gotten over that.

Besa may have already used his surprise up when Grayson sprung that news on him earlier. There's a slight nod and his voice is quiet when he asks, "Do you want to date him?" His left hand twitches slightly, but beyond that he's fairly still. There's another nod, Grayson did punch him a lot. Besa can relate to that.

"I don't know, maybe. He's easy on the eyes, but confuses the hell out of me sometimes," The words leave his lips easily enough, but he's still watching Besa and even notes the hand twitch. A mixture of concern and curiosity is on his face. "Everything okay?"

Besa's eyes finally dart away and he grimaces as he struggles to sit up. He probably should ahem done some cool down stretches or something. His voice stays soft, although now it's tinged with confusion. Maybe Grayson lied to him to make him look foolish. "You should…do what will make you happy." He swallows, eyes now on his bruised knuckles. That was stupid, how is he going to throw with his hands like that? "You should speak ..to Grayson then. He has a different view of what happened on Thanksgiving."

"I will…when I figure out what that is," Whitley mutters that last part, his grey eyes don't leave Besa. But at that last part, his head tilts in confusion, white curls drifting to the side. "You've spoken to Grayson? I thought you said you just got back."

Besa's hand, bruised knuckles and all, reach up to rub his chest as he responds, "He was waiting for me in the Guardian's Hub." Because that's not creepy. Dark eyes close, and Besa tries to ground himself with a deep breath. Maybe he's hurting from his hands or his chest, maybe it's something else entirely. Hard to tell with the smaller teen. "I am glad the two of you have become closer." That's true at least. he doesn't have to worry about them trying to kill each other…he hopes.

That's weird. Really weird. Maybe Grayson still likes Besa? Whitley falls back on his butt, sitting and considering. "Why would he…What did he say?" Then there's the closer part, and Whitley just shrugs. "He's got a lot of reasons to be as aggressive as he is…but that doesn't excuse the way he treats people." Grey eyes narrow at the chest rubbing and the deep breath, and anger rises in his voice. "Did he…did he hurt you?"

Besa's just too tired to not say this. He sighs, "He said you said you would consider dating him if I did not date you." Feeling foolish, Besa turns away to try to roll onto his knees. Of course he has reasons. Everyone does. No arguments about any of that. "No. He just pointed out truths… Or I thought he did." He finally looks over at Whitley, "What he said to me does not match what you have told me….but it does not matter. I hope you figure out whatever it is that makes you happy, Whitley. There is too short a time to wait for it to fall into your lap." Weather that is what Grayson says, or what Besa thinks.

"Oh," Whitley just blinks at that, his cheeks flush a deep red. Whether it's from rage or from embarrassment, it's hard to tell. "I…I never said that. Why would he tell you that?" His brows furrow in a lack of understanding, and his fists are clenched. "I'm sorry he said those things to you." He licks his lips. That explains some of the younger boy's odd behavior. Sorta. "That's rich coming from you," He lets out a humorless chuckle before running a hand through white hair. This is soooo awkward. "What, uh, what did you say back?"

Besa's mouth tightens and looks away, cheeks flushing to match Whitley's. "It does not matter." Besa's clearly embarrassed. Wheather the jab is meant to hurt or not, it does and Besa viably flinches before standing up. Another small tremor runs thought his body, like he's fighting the impulse to just run away. "Can we just forget this? It is clearly a misunderstanding. Like I told him." Feeling even more broken , his hair sways as the teen shakes his head, "I should go. I am sorry…"

Oh no, he can't let Besa leave just yet. Whitley scrambles to stand up with the Egyptian. "Wait! Don't go," Looking down at his fiddling fingers, he clears his throat. "I hope whatever Grayson said doesn't make things weird or uncomfortable between us." He swallows. "I mean, I really like you and all but dating's forbidden for you and I totally understand and respect that, well not completely, but that's not important. What I'm trying to say is that even if some of what Grayson said is true - which I never told him!" His eyes meet Besa's, looking more expressive than usual. "I still want to be your friend."

Besa turns back to look up at the Ares, frustration and hurt battle for dominance on his face. A freon settles though, "You are a very confusing. You are the one that told me to not go against my Priests. To not offer and tell someone if they could be alright with my life. You told me that." Not in those exact words, but he did when they were first becoming friends. His hands tighten, not so much in fists, but to give them something to cling to. His head shakes and he closes his eyes briefly to try to get himself under control, "We are friends….I am just…confused. Give me time, we can forget this." Besa's used to feeling helpless, but not foolish. He doesn't like this at all.

"I know," Another hand runs through that white hair. "That was before…" Whitley can't really bring himself to finish that statement. Besa's already really confused, he doesn't want to pile that up with more odd confessions. "Good." He says that, but his body is tense, and his face suddenly becomes difficult to read.

Before what ? Besa does't ask, but it's pretty obvious he's picked up on the trail off. Without meaning to, the teen has perfected a pretty effective kicked puppy dog look. The longer hair helps. Or maybe it's the wide eyes. He doesn't know what to think, beyond his hands hurt, and his chest is starting to ache. "…okay." What else can he say and he turns to head out the door.

Whitley makes no move to try and follow Besa, his grey gaze watching the other student as he retreats and leaves him alone in the gym. "Goodnight." He grumbles before just giving up and leaving through a different exit.

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