Mr. Brightside (Closed- Oliver&Chase)

[Chase Markswell]

Comin' outta my cage and I've been doing just fine
Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all

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Chase was in a mood. No, it wasn't a good mood (What a shock) but it wasn't all that terrible either. Yet. Until some douche bag ruined it for himself and Chase both. He really didn't want to lose his temper today.

He couldn't identify just what was wrong with him either; nothing had really upset him and no one had talked to him. A lot of time was spent just by himself, thinking long and hard on important matters.... mostly regarding his sexuality. Why did he have to be gay? He used to beat up and make fun of fags; why the hell was he turning into one?! He had never liked guys before.... he had never had a reason to. Growing up with 4 older brothers tends to make you less than kind to the male species.

But, he had never been really attracted to girls either; to be honest they kind of scared him. They were so different from guys... he didn't know what they were like or what could set them off. He didn't know what they liked, period. Once he realized this, the scary thought of being gay creeped into his mind, about 4 months ago. It was still in there.

So that had to mean that he was gay, right? He hadn't been able to shake the thought of being gay, so that meant that he was gay. Maybe God just hated him; God hated 'fags'. Or maybe it was karma for beating up that one gay kid in 9th grade. Whatever it was.... it certainly wasn't Chase's friend.

Maybe that was what had him so on edge today. As he walked the sandy beach, he tried to ignore everyone around him. He had came out here to think.... next time he would do it when the beach was deserted. Kids were laughing and playing in the water, women were sunbathing and dudes were surfing. Everyone was here with friends; only Chase was alone.

Not far from him, five guys were playing with a frisbee, doing tricks with it as they threw it from one person to another. It got away from one of them, a big chubby dude, and thwacked Chase right in the back of the head. He whipped around and glared first at the guys, and then at the green disk on the ground. "This yours?." He spat out venomously. He picked up the disk and lodged it into the water with a smirk on his face.

Big Chubby Dude No. 1 walked over, his croonies following behind. "What'd you do that for, faggot?" Chase lost it."Who are you calling a faggot, fat boy? Do I look like a faggot to you?!" The big guy was amused, smirking down at him. "I'd say so... wouldn't you, guys?" He turned to his crowd, who had all started laughing and cracking insults by now. Chase reached out and shoved him; he stepped into one of his friends.

Before Chase really had any time, they were all on him. There was no one-on-one... it was just defend yourself and your friends. He should have picked a lonelier guy to piss off.

[Oliver Carbrey]

Oliver didn't really know why he showed up at the beach. He told his sister, Maura back in Ireland, that he'd take some pictures of the impressive beach and send them to her with his next letter. She wanted to know if the legendary beach truly lived up to it's expectations, if so, she might actually be able to pay a visit with the money he and she saved up. Which would be fantastic because he hadn't seen any of his siblings in more than two years. He was anxious to see how they were doing, if they were eating well, and listening to what mother said.

However, here he was, a pasty white Irish/Scottish lad on a beach, where he clearly didn't fit in. Everyone was nice and tanned, and he was some white flesh, now turning red. He couldn't stand the sun rays, directly, for too long or he'd turn redder than a lobster, it was the curse of his fair skin. Applying a little more sun tan lotion to his face, Oliver had made sure he covered up properly. A tee shirt, thin aired slacks, and a baseball hat. He even brought on a scarf, to protect the back of his neck - because that was the worst place to get burnt. He applied the cream, thickly, to his cheeks and then forehead, wiping the sweat from his brow before running it back in.

Oliver lifted up his camera to take a shot of the sea, but the beach was so busy it was sort of hard to get a clear shot. He sighed, stood up, and paced around the blankets of dark people tanning, taking in the sun like it was heaven. While, Oliver was left to cower behind his clothes. At last, he snapped a good shot, that Oliver hoped, did justice to the vast beach. He readjusted his lens to point at the line of people, on the beach, and smiled as focused to snap a picture. However, he stopped short when he saw a group of people seemingly surrounding one boy... The numbers were just too unfair, and besides, who would dare bully somebody in broad daylight.. He did not know the situation, but he could just not wait and watch it happen. The few other witnesses didn't seem to give a care themselves. Did they see this sort of thing often? The thought sickened him.

Asking a woman to hold onto his camera for him, Oliver raced over across the sand, hearing a few complaints as it sprayed up at people, his footsteps followed by dismay. However, he finally he made it to the circle, that had now tightened, the boy inside was clearly putting up his best effort to fight back and escape. The odds were against him, it was one against many, and there was no escape. He saw as they pounded at him one after the other, growing anger fuming inside him. Violence, was like this, horrid, unfair, and never the way to deal with things.

He strolled up the the group, tore two men away from each other, but they resisted. They pushed at him, aiming to knock him in the sand, but as he fell back he caught himself, rebounding to give one a good punch in the face. This was only self defense, they had started something with him, he was just trying to get through. A few of the gang's attention was mustered from the lad to him, and he quickly reached for the boy's arm, yanked him from the sand and across the beach. Not caring if he was half dragging him, or that the gang called insults after him like 'coward'. He didn't mind being a coward, he wasn't to remain a pacifistic, well most of the time, he was just vigilant.

When he was assured they were at safety, he looked over the boy... He seemed pretty bloody. Should Oliver take him to the hospital? Ask what his name was? Something? He awkwardly pulled his scarf over his mouth and gazed at him. Staring blankly, unsure what he should say or do. What were the circumstances in which he got into the fight? He didn't know. Though, he couldn't believe he desired to be beaten to death, really, nobody did. He simply gave the boy a small nod, waiting for him to recover.

[Chase Markswell]

Comin' outta my cage and I've been doing just fine
Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all

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Chase liked to think that he was a better fighter than the rest; growing up with four elder siblings gave him a little somethin'-somethin' in that category. He knew what places to hit that would keep a man down, and most likely covering his balls for the rest of his life. Chase didn't like to play dirty and kick a guy in his manhood... but ya gotta do what you've gotta do.

There was only a couple times, in this particular instance, that a swift kick to the cojones really did him any justice. Most of the time he spent in the ring of people was just trying to keep them all away from him; five on one was way too much to handle.

But, before he could do much damage, they had him down to his knees, and eventually landed flat on his ass, where boys started to kick and hit him however they could. He curled up however he could; he didn't defend his face until after someone got in a lucky strike to his teeth and knocked one out.

Curled up in a ball in the sand, no one seemed to pay him any attention. Mothers directed their children away from the violent scurry. The Lifeguard clearly didn't give a shit, or he was too busy talking to the girls to notice. Chase squeezed his eyes closed, grunting as someone finally, finally landed a foot in his crotch.

And just like that, his eyes stayed closed. He felt arms and legs start to fade away. Was he blacking out already? He could still feel something, however, the sensation of movement. Was this what it was supposed to be like when you only fainted but weren't knocked out? Like the strike of a match, the kicking and pain ceased. Laying on the sand for a couple minutes, simply enjoying the feeling of not being kicked.

Chase managed to open his eyes but cursed and flinched at the daytime sun. He placed his hand over his eyes, like a visor, and looked up. A boy with red hair and a baseball cap... and oddly a scarf, stood over him. Had this kid pulled him out of the fight? But this guy looked much too scrawny to take on those other boys. Sure, he had a height advantage... but that looked like that was it.

Chase coughed and spit on the sand, spitting out blood and his tooth. He grimaced, cursed and scooped up the bloody red object. He'd definitely have to have that replaced or whatever; he wasn't going to get famous around here with a tooth missing. He sighed, laying back against the sand again before he addressed the other boy, who was oddly still standing there.

"Thanks man." He murmured, grimacing as the wind wisped through the hole in his mouth.

[Oliver Carbrey]

Oliver was feeling more and more anxious about this. He had just punched a guy out, clear by the throbbing in his wrist and head, and it was likely they were still looking for them. This was no time for that boy to just lay in the sand. How many times had this happened to him anyway? Perhaps he was just a gangster and they were getting revenge. Though, he looked to scrawny, and cleaned up (beside the blood and bruises), to be a gangster. He sighed, and began to take off his hat, sweater, and scarf. He threw them all at the boy laying on the beach and looked around anxiously.

They never did get a good look at Oliver, but they would surely recognize the boy they bothered to beat up. Besides, Oliver wanted to go into town, and not much would be accomplished if they boy was walking around in swim trunks and sandals. Under his sweater Oliver had just been wearing a white Killers tee shirt that just snug on him, seeing how he kept it form years now, and already the freckles on his cheeks and shoulders were blazing to their full glory. Why was this place so... Sunny?

Most people dictated Oliver for being a cold person. He really wasn't like that at all. He liked people, a lot, he just didn't know how to... Talk to them without get them upset. It wasn't like family, where he knew everything about them, heck, he didn't know what to do now that half his siblings were like strangers. Things were complicated, but he really desired to visit them all again. To see how much they've changed. He hadn't see their faces, since his mother refused any sort of contact associated with her father outside of business, he couldn't expect to. She was a stubborn woman, and once she made up her mind she'd stay firm to it until the end. That was just the sort of person she was. Perhaps Oliver had inherited that, with his will for justice? And fantasies of make believe heroes.

Never before, outside of family, had Oliver been thanked. People seemed to stray away for some reason... He didn't understand why. Grimacing at the blood the boy coughed up, Oliver waited for the boy to put the clothes on because he was anxious enough standing here waiting for the crew to come and find them. "Put those on," he said softly, a with a little unsureness. Who could say what sort of person this boy was?

That was when the thought occurred to him. He had left his camera on the beach with that woman.. What was he supposed to do? He could always try to find her later, but what was to say she hasn't moved on already. What would he do if he ran into those people again? No, he couldn't go. He'd have to leave his pictures, the reason for coming to the cursed beach in the first place, behind. He felt his face redden slightly from the light, and then allowed his hand as a source of shade. "Hurry," he mumbled anxious to get under the shade of town.

[Chase Markswell]

Comin' outta my cage and I've been doing just fine
Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all

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Chase was perfectly comfortable to lay in the sand for the rest of the day; he hadn't thought of the gang coming back over to whoop on him some more. The only thought in his mind was that this nice, quiet stranger had came and saved his poor ass from the fight he was bound to lose. Really, it had been a nice gesture, especially considering that no one else had cared. So, that begged the question, what was Chase supposed to do to thank him? Words didn't really mean a lot or enough in this case. Money? Some people would be a little offended to be paid for doing a random act of kindness, and Chase didn't exactly have any money that he could afford to part with either.

He blinked as the boy began shedding his clothing; what was going on now? What, was Chase such a faggot that now he was fantasizing about men during the day? Chase grimaced to himself as Oliver's sweater landed over his face and sat up. The world spun for a minute as he fought to pull the sweater off of his face; who the hell even wore a sweater in this kind of weather?

Put those on? Chase looked up at the red-headed boy and then at the wool sweater. He didn't understand just why he was supposed to put this clothing on, especially in this heat. However, as he looked across the beach, he found the ring of boys that he had so narrowly escaped and understood immediately. He had to hide. With a little bit of a groan, Chase pulled on the sweater, tied the scarf around his neck and placed the ball-cap on his head, which fit snugly. It was so uncomfortably warm as he rose to his feet and slipped his broken tooth into the pocket of his swim trunks.

"What now?" He asked, pulling at the scarf at his neck and eyeing the boy's Killers tee-shirt enviously; so light-weight and cool and comfortable. But hey, the kid had just saved his face. You win some, you lose some.

[Oliver Carbrey]

What now? To be perfectly honest, Oliver had no clue what came next. The only thing he could think of was run. Run as fast as you can. It wasn't very heroic, but they were out numbered. He didn't have super powers like Superman. He was a pacifist, most of the time, anyhow. Fighting wasn't his thing. He grabbed the boy's hand and dragged him off the beach and toward the resort. Perhaps they could hid in there. Call a cab, get into town, something. This was a disaster, and at any rate the group was going to recover more pissed than before. Right? That was, depending on what this kid did to piss them off. Of course, they probably wouldn't be please with Oliver just busting in and punching someone out. Use your head kid, thats what it's there for!

Once inside the resort, and Oliver's arms were a light pink, he rushed the boy toward an elevator and up to his room. He had rented one out for the night. Going back to school all the way from here was a pain, besides, this was his weekend off before midterms rolled around in his mind. When they were safe in the room he crossed over to the couch and sat down. Pulling up the sleeve of to compare his skin. It looked a lot more pink than the pasty white underneath his clothes.

Why did he just save someone he didn't know? Oliver definitely had a hero complex, it was bad. He sighed, taking off his shoes and leaning turning toward Chase. What did he say? This was a tiny bit awkward, wasn't it? "Sorry," he mumbled unsure how to start this conversation, "we are safe here for now," he added confidently. It wasn't like they would come into the hotel just to hunt the two down. Nothing this boy could of done was that bad, right? He was a stranger, and Oliver had no idea what to say. Instead he decided to act.

He gestured toward the couch, "sit," he commanded, but gently, before going into the bathroom. Lucky for the boy, there was a first aid kit under the sink. It was for emergencies only, but Oliver certainly considered this one. He returned, laying it out on the coffee table. Silently opening it, and reaching for the boy's face. He was a straight forward person, and didn't realize how it was to just randomly grab people's faces. Or treat their wounds. He was a little old fashioned though, like his father, and focused solely on cleaning the sand from the bruises and cuts on the boy's face. His hands were steady, holding the boy's chin, and lightly touching the cuts with a q-tip and then applying a band-aid. You could tell the boy was practiced at this. Having many brothers and sisters helped sometimes.

[Chase Markswell]

Comin' outta my cage and I've been doing just fine
Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all

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The brunette had been expecting more of a verbal response as Oliver yanked at his arm to flee the scene. He struggled to keep up behind the other boy; besides the fact of having legs longer than his arms, running had never been one of Chase's favorite activities; he had been diagnosed with exercise-induced asthma since he was 8. By the time the pair reached the hotel lobby, Chase was already growing pink in the cheeks and coughing. As they waited for the elevator to rise to the proper floor, Chase doubled over with his hands on his knees.

A bell chimed as the elevator doors opened; Chase stood upright, feeling better after catching his breath. He glanced down at the hotel below as they walked; was this kid a tourist or something? As Oliver held open the door to his hotel room, Chase entered without interest and leaned back against the door after Oliver was in too, as if holding back the mob of angry boys from the beach. He cringed as Oliver lifted his shirt sleeve, the uncovered skin already pinked by the sun. That's why he was wearing the sweater.... the sweater he had to give to Chase to keep a disguise. "You need sunscreen," he murmured softly. Guilt was seeping into his expression as he looked again.

He simply nodded and sat as Oliver had told him to, but reached into the first aid kit after Oliver laid it open on the coffee table. Taking out the travel-sized bottle of aloe-vera, Chase tipped the bottle into his palm and softly rubbed the white lotion on to Oliver's arms as the other boy brushed the sand from his face. How cute, taking care of each other. Chase rolled his eyes as the thought crossed his mind. He flinched as the alcoholic medicine burned on his face, but Chase tried to stay still as he continued to rub more ointment on Oliver's arms. "Thanks," he murmured, pulling away when he thought Oliver was done.

"What's your name?" Chase asked. Oliver was still holding his face; he guessed Oliver wasn't done with him after all. But, really, Chase didn't care at all. Oliver was pretty cute..... Chase liked having his attention. "I go by Chase." Nevermind his real name, Jonathan. Ew. The only people who even called him that were his grandparents and his mom if he got into a fight or colored on the walls or something 'rebellious' like that. He screwed the cap back on the aloe-vera now that he had made Oliver's arms slick with the stuff and waited to hear the name of his sun-burnt crusader.

[Oliver Carbrey]

Oliver was just finishing up on the cleaning of the boy's face when he began to treat his sunburn. He flinched, at first, not realizing his intentions at first. He was normally the only one who ever treated people, or himself, for small cuts or bruises. Not even Maura did so, maybe that was why many of his siblings considered him like a second mother. It was unfortunate that his own mother was too busy to do such things, but he always tried his best. But he allowed the boy to tend to the faint burning on his skin. The lotion cooled him like water putting out a fire. At least the burn wasn't that bad yet.

The boy's name was Chase, a pleasant name. Sort of ironic, in his mind, as they were almost chased to the hotel. When he was finished cleaning he set the wrappers on the coffee table, snapping the first aid kit back together. "Oliver," he answered quietly before standing up to throw out the trash. He also need to make a phone call. To himself. He had left his camera, phone, and letter to Maura with the woman on the beach. He hadn't thought of not coming back for it. He was sure she wouldn't mind leaving it with the beach's staff though or dropping it off at the lobby desk.

"I'm going to make a phone call. Feel free to watch the television," with that he headed toward the bedroom, a service phone on the nightstand beside it. He dialed the operator, a small little jingle playing as he waited for them to call his phone. "Ah, hello, miss," and so the conversation carried out. She had left the beach already, but she was willing to leave his stuff off at the lobby. He hung up, thankful, that he had called when he did. Hopping off the bed, he glanced into the living room. It was getting late. It was about time that he sent the boy on his way home. His parents would probably worry. Though they looked about the same age, Oliver felt the duty of bringing him home. Or paying for a cab if he could.

"Hey," he said softly, taking a seat on the couch, "I'm going to go pick up my stuff in the lobby, and then I'll call a cab for you to go home..." he stared at the television for a moment, "where is it that you have to go to?" If it was too far, perhaps then the boy should just stay there, with Oliver. They could call his family and tell them he'd be home early tomorrow. It wasn't safe going out too late at night, anyhow, the sun was all ready escaping the sky. Soon it would be dark. Fall was on the way, and school at Eddingborough was starting.

[Chase Markswell]

Comin' outta my cage and I've been doing just fine
Gotta, gotta be down because I want it all

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Chase pulled his hand away instinctively when Oliver shuddered, but soon relaxed. Chase wasn't by anymeans much of a caregiver, but he knew how to be. The only younger sibling he had, he treated well, so that had to say something. Normally he was the one getting the attention and boo-boo kissings, but this was a simple task. Rubbing on lotion; no big deal. Really, it was kind of odd, this entire endeavor of his. Picking a fight with too big of a boy, getting rescued by a stranger and now helping said stranger with a sun burn as they sat in a hotel room. "You'll want to put more on in a couple hours," He advised, placing his hands in his lap once he was finished.

Oliver the red head. Instantly Chase made a connection with an old movie he and his brothers used to watch when they were all much younger. Oliver the orange cat, battling the streets in New York with street-smart Dodger the dog (the character Chase personally liked best). Chances were that Chase wasn't going to forget the boy's name now; he was usually good with names anyway, but he would always have a connection of people named Oliver having red hair, thanks to the Disney movie.

Chase nodded softly as Oliver left the room to make a call, though he didn't know who. Oliver hadn't asked for any phone numbers from him, which Chase had been expecting, so he had no real idea what a phone call was needed for. But, it was none of his business, he supposed. This boy was just some tourist, here in England for the week or something like that, and he happened to be a good samaritan. That was all there was to it.

Chase picked up the remote control and turned on the television, but turned the volume down so that he didn't disturb his new friend. With his thumb on the channel button, he scrolled through them, stopping whenever he found something that caught his eye. As he was just passing through, he landed on a television show that, regrettably, caught his attention. Two men, chest to chest, one with his ass hanging out and the other in a pair of boxers. Chase's eyes went wide and flicked the channel off, before anyone could even think of seeing him looking at a homosexual television show. He leaned back to see Oliver still on the phone, and then flipped the channel back. What was the harm in just watching a couple minutes? Really, he couldn't deny the fact that he was gay even to himself anymore. He looked at boys a lot more closer, admired their faces and had.... thoughts, of them. But even if it was completely obvious to him, didn't mean he had to come out of the closet to the world. Besides, he hadn't even found a guy he really liked yet.

Oliver, on the other hand, was pretty cute, Chase would admit.

Chase jumped as Oliver stepped back into the living room and frantically changed the channel, hopefully before Oliver could see anything. He swallowed a lump in his throat as Oliver sat down next to him, trying to focus on what he said. Chase nodded with understanding; maybe the sooner he got out, the better. A complete stranger and he watching.... t.v. shows like this. "I go to school not far from here. Eddingborough School for Boys, in case you've heard about it." he murmured softly. "I'm sure I can get a cab somewhere in town, and I have money for the fare and all."