Typical Bad Ass

The boy sighed as he walked into the locker room late. It was his gym period, but he wasn't going to go. Max was a good kid. He really was, but the bullies that made him late weren't. Max didn't get beat up or anything today. No, it was too early in the day, and it would raise suspicion. Later, though, that's when he was fair game.

Max wasn't a bad person. He just wasn't. With his short, thin stature, he couldn't. His small muscles could barely bench anything. He was small, weak. That isn't something a bad person was. His dark hair framed his face, coming down to his jaw. It was messy. He was just pushed around for a bit, of course it was messy. Plain clothes draped around his sickly pale skin. Healthy wasn't a word to describe him. Paranoid, secretive, they were.

He walked over to his locker where his breath caught suddenly. There as sitting the complete opposite of Max. The total opposite. The boy, no, man was sitting down on the floor, propped against the lockers. His arm was resting on his one bent knee. A cigarette hung from his hand. Smoke barely coming out of his nose.

Sitting not ten feet away from Max was Ronnie Radke, the typical bad ass. As previously said, he was nothing like Max. He was tall, well built, muscles on his bones, and a tan on his tattooed skin. His hair was darker, and it hung lower. Ronnie was the worst of the worst. Skipping classes, smoking on campus, getting into fights, unattended detentions every other day are only a few examples.

There were plenty of rumors about the school bad boy. Some about his parents leaving him. Some about his mom being a druggie wit his father in jail. But, the bottom line was no one really knew anything about Ronnie. He was a mystery. Maybe that's why everyone started the rumors. They wanted to know something about him, and he wouldn't tell them. So, they made up their on stories. None made up stories or rumors about Max because he was an open book. He was normal. Well, you could say that.

Max didn't know what to do. He had to go to class, but he already decided that he wasn't going to go. He wanted to just sit in the locker room until the bell rang, but with Ronnie here that didn't see like it was going to happen. Max wasn't afraid of him, not really. Well, that's a lie. Max was afraid of everything, so him not being afraid of something was a huge accomplishment. It wasn't the fact that he was scared of things. He was just scared of someone finding out. Someone knowing what they shouldn't.

"Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?" A gruff voice asked. Max jumped, not expecting the noise. He looked up to see Ronnie staring directly at him.

Words didn't come out of his mouth, but he did move from behind the row of lockers. Ronnie watched him as he set on the edge of the bench, as far as he could away from the other teen in the room.

"You want a cig, Max?" Ronnie asked.

Max's head shot up. Shock written clearly on his face. "How do you know my name?" He asked in his weak voice. He didn't talk very much, so every word he said sounded . . . pathetic.

"You. . . interest me," Ronnie said with a devious smirk.

The shock changed to confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean . . . You aren't like the other pricks at this school. There is something different about you. It interests me." The same devious smirk was still placed on his handsome face.

Max didn't respond to that. What would he say? What could he say? This isn't something you hear everyday. It especially wasn't something that Max heard, ever.

"So, why are you skipping? It doesn't seem like something someone as good as you would do." Ronnie said. He kept pushing for a conversation. A conversation Max didn't want to have.

"Um . . . These guys made me late, so I, uh, I just decided not to go to class." He explained shortly. He chose to ignore the last statment solely for the fact that he didn't want to give anything away. Anything that was not meant for everyone else.

"Bitches." Ronnie muttered to himself, taking another drag of the cigarette.

He stood up then, Ronnie. He stood up dropping his cigarette onto the floor, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot on the floor. Gracefully, he walked over and sat directly next to Max. Not even three inches were between them. Max instantly tensed up. He wasn't used to much contact, or attention.

"Um . . . uh, wh-why are you sitting so close?" Max asked. He didn't know how to react in these situations. So, it used his awkwardness.

Ronnie smirked all the slightest. "Cut the act, Max. You may be able to fool everyone else, but I'm not that stupid."

"Wh-What are you talking about?" Max asked.

Ronnie gave him a dead look. One that said he wasn't going to fall for his act anymore. He swung one of his legs over the bench, so he was straddling it. "You really are something else, you know?" He said lowly in Max's ear. "You go around the school with that worried look on your face, that slouch in your walk, but I know that's not what you're really like. You're smarter than the others, much smarter. It amazes me you can keep this little charade going on for so long, but it doesn't fool me. Never has." Ronnie's breath ghosted over Max's ear, his neck, his face. It caused a shiver to run down his spine. It was that, or the words he was saying.

He face changed then. No longer did he look like a broken down boy. No longer did he slump over in his place. He was sitting straight now. He was sitting straight, and his face was now hard, like someone who just got caught, someone with a big secret.

"How'd you figure it out?" Max asked. His voice sounded fuller, stronger. The nervous, panicky face and voice were gone. All that was left was a cold stare and sharpness that would kill.

Ronnie shrugged. "Isn't too hard. You look at people differently when they aren't looking. You act different when you think no one is around."

"Have you been stalking me, Mr. Radke?" He said with a glare pointed at the other.

"Something like that." He admitted, sitting closer. "So, what are you really?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Max said.

"Sure, you do. I thought it over a couple of times. The best I could come up with is you're either a criminal, or you're in witness protection. But, that one doesn't explain why you would change your entire personality."

"You shouldn't think that much. It'll hurt your brain." Max growled. Ronnie knew he was on the right track then.

"So, what is it then? You runnin from the police or just trying to stay out of trouble?" He asked.

"It's non of your concern." Max spat.

"Ah, it is one of those then. I'm going with you're runnin. If you were trying to stay out of trouble, you would just keep your head down and out of the way. You wouldn't go through with all of this nonsense. But, if you were running, then you would do everything to make it seem like you aren't the person you were before this." Ronnie said with a sense of all knowing.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Max growled.

Ronnie shrugged. "Perhaps, but we both know that I'm right. I doubt you could have done anything serious, like murder or manslaughter. So, I'm going to go with you do some piety robbery, pick pocketing, that kind of thing."

"You just don't know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?" Max asked. His head whipping towards Ronnie, making their faces not inches apart. Max's jaw was set. Teeth gritted. He had the face of fury.

Ronnie smirked. "So, I'm right then. You must have it pretty cushy here, then. When the people push you around, you can slip your hand right through their jacket. They'd never even know it was gone." He added emphasis by running his hand up his leg to where the pocket was.

The next events happened very quickly because both boys had reflexives that no one had seen before. Max's hand shot out to Ronnie's, successfully grabbing his wrist. Ronnie then came back with flipping his wrist, so he had the grip on Max's instead. He then stood trying to yank his appendage away from the other's grasp, which made Ronnie stand as well. Max's next failed attempt at trying to get his arm away ended up with both of his arms pinned against the lockers. It was no use now. He was under Ronnie's complete control.

"Just got those reflexives naturally then?" Max spat out. He was pissed, and he had a right to be.

"I never said I was an innocent civilian." He admitted with a smirk.

"Are you going to let me go now then?" Max asked.

Ronnie contemplated in for a second before answering, "I don't think so. I kinda like you like this. Pinned, under me."

"Go to hell." Max said with venom clear in his tone.

"What makes you think I haven't already?"

They sat there for a second, staring at each other. Ronnie with his arrogant gaze roaming Max's body. Max with his glare of hatred set clear on Ronnie's face.

Ronnie then seemed to decide on something. Something written in his eyes, and no matter the years of experience of reading people, Max just couldn't figure out that look, that look that seemed somewhat important right now.

He didn't have to wonder for long though. He leaned until his breath ghosted over the other's face. Max didn't know how to react to this. He didn't fully understand what was actually going on. But, the second the other's chapped lips hit his own, his body reacted for him.

Max didn't know what to feel about this. His lips didn't wait for his brain to process the other set dancing with his. Teeth clashing. Lips smacking. He decided it felt nice. No, nice wasn't the right word to describe it. Hot, sexy, dangerous. The fact that they could get caught at any second was a better adrenaline rush then any time he snatched someone's wallet.

Ronnie ran his tongue over Max's bottom lip. Max decided not to oblige. It wasn't the end though. The taller of the two dug his teeth into the smaller's lip, and when the other gasped in shock and pain, he took full advantage to slip his tongue in. There was much of a battle for dominance. Ronnie won without much of a fight. Max just thought it was because he had the clear height advantage, and the fact that he was the one pinned. In reality, it was the lack of experience in this field.

Ronnie's tongue roamed through the other's mouth while his hand released the other's wrist to snake down his body and then up his shirt. Max's now free hands tugged on the taller's hair with each scratch he felt on his chest.

Every time one tried to pull away for a lack of breath, to rest, they would just get pulled back in by a tug of hair, a pull of flesh. Neither wanted to let go, but they had to. They could no longer breathe. Neither could tell who successfully pulled away first.

Once they stopped sharing saliva, Ronnie's mouth attached to Max's neck, kissing, licking, biting. All in all, to Max, it felt great. He couldn't help a moan or two that came out in the process.

Ronnie was about to pull the panting boy's shirt off when a shrieking noise cut through the locker room and echoed in the nearby showers. He sighed but otherwise detached himself.

"This isn't over." Ronnie whispered in Max's ear before pushing off the locker and walking away. Max didn't bother to look where he was going.

He was right. This wasn't over, and they both were going to make sure of that.