Peter could hear the pounding in his head transform into an intensely loud sound in his ears, especially now that the music had stopped and everyone was at a standstill. His hands were clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles turning white with how hard he was trying to get himself together. He didn't mean to punch anyone, especially someone like him. But Chase had struck a nerve and once the words had reached his ears, he could only hold onto himself for so long.

From the floor, Chase stared at Peter with wide eyes. The hit had come as a surprise, even to Peter who made the move, and he was still in the position it had subjected him to. Immediately, his eyes glazed over as he stood, spitting out red-tinged fluid. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, slowly moving closer to Peter.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" He grinned, revealing teeth streaked with scarlet stains. "Like that fucker she hangs out with."

Peter wanted to say something but words won't form in his mind, let alone translate into speech. He could only feel the pairs of eyes staring at him. Judging him, from every possible angle. He kept his head down as Chase's body moved closer, holding his breath in order to keep himself from inhaling the alcoholic stench that emanated from Case's bloodied lips.

He felt hands push back on his chest, making him stumble into Dakota. Before he could steady himself the hands hit him again, and again, and again. It was aggressive, it was fast, he couldn't find his footing and he fell on his butt. The people who had circled him and Chase moved back, giving them more room, exposing him.

Chase bent over Peter, taking him by his flannel shirt and tugging at it with a shaking fist. "Answer me you little shit."

Peter looked away, an action which angered the obviously drunk host. In a matter of seconds they were on their feet again, Chase dragging Peter, still holding his shirt. A couple of buttons popped of, hitting the floor once, twice, then rolling away.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, will ya?" Chase yelled.

"I would... but my eyes don't need to be traumatised."

Peter's eyes started to water, an effect of the sting that spread across his cheek. Chase slapped him again, getting a small strangled gasp from Peter.

Chase's hand went up to Peter's reddened face, thumbs pressing into his skin. "You've got a smart mouth."

"At least it's smart." Once again, Peter wished his mouth would stay shut for once, just once. He regretted speaking even more when the people around started snickering, the growing sound acting as a fuel to the host's irritation.

He gripped Peter's arms and twisted, till his face contorted in pain and the crowd hushed. Peter's hands were behind his back now, moulded in a shape that shouldn't be physically possible. Peter started blubbering in a mute tone that only he could hear.

"Look at you, protecting that fag hag." Chase pressed on Peter's hands, forcing him to scream out in pain. "Bet you're a fucking fag too, huh? A faggot."

More pain. More shrieking. But this time, the ear-splitting sound didn't come out from Peter.

"Say that word again and you're done for," Peter dared. "Say. It. Again." He was out of Chase's hold and ready to pounce on him after gaining the upper hand. He didn't know what hormones were at work at that moment but the levels they had reached were enough to make him see red. The added liquor made his head spin in the most invigorating way.

"Fa-" Chase started, grinning. The grin was wiped off his face just as soon as it had started forming. Peter let the anger he felt consume him. Once his fists started moving, his legs began administering kicks, he couldn't stop. They were both down, him caging the other boy with his body.

Even when Chase was trying to crawl out of his grip he caught him by the throat and pinned him down. Then blows rained again. His face. His ribs. Everywhere.

There was howling from both Chase and the partygoers. The latter saying things that were incomprehensible to Peter. Those who dared, tried to pry him off Chase whose flailing hands hand began to slow down, but Peter shrugged them all off, letting himself lean forward again just as they got Chase free.

Sirens started blasting from all sides and the next thing Peter felt were Dakota's hands, gripping onto his shoulders, yanking him off the guy who was coughing and sputtering.

Everything that happened was a blur. Peter couldn't care less about the snitch who had decided to alert the police, all he needed was to get out. As far away as possible from the scene. Running and dodging and trying to escape this mad house just as the cops started towards it. All they had with them was luck, divine providence, call it whatever you want-- and it was on their side.

Peter was shoved into the backseat of a car-- Dakota's. Her driver had come to pick them up, just liked had been planned. And was Peter ever grateful for following the rules this time.

Everything was throbbing, everything seemed to have a pulse of its own in stacatto tunes. He was slumped in the seat, head against the window and lolling with the motions of the car. Left turn. Right turn. Another right.

Then a hand was on his. Slowly, Peter opened eyes that felt very tired, lids heavy from the inexplicable pain he was feeling-- more emotional than physical. Dakota's palm felt warm against his, even though the pressure made the cuts on his knuckles sting.

"I'm so sorry, for everything," she whispered. Dakota sounded distraught, as if she was in pain. Peter looked at her, and from the streetlights that lit up the interior of the car ever once in a while, he realized her forehead was swollen, a small knot at the side. Probably when that jerk had pushed him onto her.

"It- it's fine."

"When he called you that, I really-"

Peter had to bite the insides of his cheek at the memory. Hearing someone call him that had triggered him. It had been worse than all the beatings he had ever gone through. Even Kyle's attack hasn't hurt as bad. "Dakota, it's fine!"

The driver visibly flinched and Peter couldn't feel any less small. He didn't mean to snap at Dakota, he didn't mean for any of this to happen. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, "Sorry. I'm very sorry. Coming was a bad idea."

Dakota nodded, looking out the window. Peter slid his hand from under hers, making her turn. His hand went on top and he squeezed hers in a sort of assurance.

"Have you emailed your portfolio yet?"

"Yes," Peter nodded stiffly.

"They'll get back to you in a week or so. The black eye will be fine by then."

"Oh not again." Peter's fingers went up to the flesh under his eye. It was tender and painful, another thing to add to his collection of bruises.

"It's not that bad though." Dakota said with a small laugh.

"Sure, your bump isn't bad too."

At that she rolled her eyes. "Don't even remind me... it looks like my forehead expanded."

"It's seriously not bad. My lip is busted and I can't feel half my fingers."

"Lemme see," Dakota said facing Peter. She took his face in her hands and squinting her eyes, shook her head. "Don't see it."

"Well I sure feel it." Peter touched the flesh of his lips. "Feels swollen, I'm sure it's cut too."

Dakota took another look and Peter pouted his lips, pointing at an incredibly thin line. "Is it there?"

"Yes," she sighed, "and I think I can see your neck through the hole in it... sure I'd be able to poke a finger through it."

Dakota's sarcastic remark made Peter snort even though he didn't want to laugh, it made his head ache. "I'd prefer you don't."

She smiled and he smiled too. His hand went up to Dakota's hair and he pushed the strands back, his hand moving to the raised skin. "Does it hurt?" Peter asked.

"A bit. Stop touching it." She took his hand and placed it in the seat, holding on for a while before letting go.

When their eyes met, Peter held her gaze before he leaned forward. It was slow and deliberate, giving her the option of stopping him if she didn't want him to do it. She stayed still.

His lips landed on hers in a brief kiss, his heavy breaths hitting her skin. His hands met the bare skin of her stomach and skimmed back and forth over the smooth surface. Peter was pressing into her, ignoring the small soreness that bit back at his lips. The urge to do more than just kiss the girl in front of him was strong, almost as if he wanted to prove something. But to whom? Himself?

But it wasn't appropriate at the moment. They were both exhausted, plus, they weren't alone. But they could kiss for now. It was the only highlight of this party, of the awkward day and eventful night. A freaking blessing.

When it was over, Dakota asked, "Does it hurt?"

"A lot less," Peter replied.

When Peter got to the apartment, the door wasn't locked. He crossed about half the length of the living room before he noticed the body lying on the couch. Colin had fallen asleep waiting up for him, hand over his eyes and small snores leaving his lips.

Peter washed his face and took off the bloody clothes, stripping down to his boxers. He went to his room but it wasn't to sleep. Walking out, he had two blankets slung over his shoulder, one for him and the other for his roommate who shivered every few seconds.

He covered Colin with the material before moving to the couch he had slept in on his first night here. He lay down carefully and covered himself from his toes to his neck.

He was never going to a party like that again. Not on his life.

~~
Thank you for 6k reads!!

This chapter was so HEAVY. Chase called Peter the 'F' word and he cracked... Do we stan this king??

And Peter also kissed Dakota(a shocker)... what do you think of that??
You stan those two together??

Special mentions: lemonnerd13 and mariajohnwrites for voting!

-LittleUmbrella- for all the amazing comments and votes!! Thanks for the spam♡

I love love looove reading all your comments, it's the highlight of my day. Thank you guys who gave this book a chance and have stuck by it. I appreciate it so much :,)

Also, vote if you loved Peter going off on Chase!