You and Johnny came from very different households. Johnny’s dad was a lawyer and his mother traveled the world as a fashion designer. He grew up with luxury houses, nice cars, expensive shit that made your jaw drop. On top of that, he also was a famous rugby player at seventeen and was popular in school.

You, however, got stuck with an abusive dad, an emotionally absent mother, and five brothers at fifteen. Your father loved drinking and put his hands on you over everything, and with his drinking problem, put your family in a financial struggle that couldn’t be fixed. You took busses and lived life in fear, panic, and anxiety of what’s to come.

Despite the massive differences between you and Johnny, somehow you and him ended up being something similar to friends after he gave you a concussion by accident. He would smiled at you, catching you staring at him, and would talk to you when his friends forced him to by sitting at you and your friend’s lunch table.

Johnny didn’t expect was for him to offer you a ride in his mothers car back to his house so you could get cleaned up in his bathroom and his mother could talk to him about sex when he clearly stated that you and him were just friends, though his mother could see through his so obviously said lies. He walked away and grabbed himself a bath too.

He walked back to his room where you were showering, wearing only his boxers when he found you in his room, wrapped up only in a towel. His gaze roamed over you until, “What the fuck is this?” he hissed, looking at the handspring marks on your neck. He had seen other bruises on you before and you had blamed it on Legos. This wasn’t Legos. Someone touched you and he wanted a name.