˗ˏˋOur Differencesˊˎ˗

-19-

Dylan's arrogant smirk grew wider.
"If you wanted a better look at the trophy, you could've just asked nicely." he said, shoving it in Charlie's face.

"I couldn't care less about a piece of plastic." Charlie snarled.

"Clearly." Dylan retorted harshly.
"You would've played better if you actually cared about winning one."

Charlie seemed completely unfazed.
"I never had to dick my way to the top, Dylan. But yeah, congratulations or whatever."

My brother scoffed.
"You couldn't dick your way to the top at Merriton, regardless. That's probably half the reason you left."

"I left because you were a fucking psychopath."

Dylan glared at him angrily.
"Threaten to touch my sister again and I'll show you what a real psychopath looks like."

I'm pretty sure my mouth dropped open, and so did everyone else's. That's definitely not what I was expecting to hear today.

Charlie eyed me, like I was a prize or something. I felt strange knowing this information. I was young when he moved away. Nearly 14. He was 16. Something felt off about it. Unsettling.

Dylan looked sickened by his presence.
"Fuck off."

Charlie glanced at me again, letting his gaze linger a little longer than before to piss Dylan off.

"I'd love to see it." he admitted cockily, before his hand travelled slowly to my ass in a teasing manner.

I pulled away from him immediately, and watched Dylan's entire body stiffen like he was about to blow a gasket. I've never seen him look this pissed off in his life — and he has literal anger issues.

The next thing you know, my brother was on the ground and on top of Charlie beating the ever living shit out of him. Dylan pushed his head against the ground, squishing his face against the concrete so hard that you could hear his teeth scraping.

He started beating his head so hard that I'm pretty sure he busted it open, because blood randomly started going everywhere. It was all over Dylan's fist, and all over the sidewalk and the grass. Charlie was crying for help, even though I could barely hear what he was saying because his sound was muffled. I faintly heard "Please" and "No" coming from him, and I had no idea what to do. Hell, nobody did.

"Dude, you need to fucking stop." Devin yelled, and started shoving Dylan away from Charlie, who was now actually crying his eyes out. I felt horrible for him in that moment.

The only problem was, Dylan was so caught up in the rage that he started beating Devin too. He knocked him onto the ground, and wouldn't let him touch him.

He wouldn't let anyone touch him — so Quinn, Gilbert, Ethan, and Brandon all had to get involved. They had to push Dylan away from Charlie, and as soon as Devin managed to hold him down, Ethan helped Charlie up.

"Dude, run. Get away from him." Ethan warned him sternly.

Charlie didn't hesitate to get the hell away from my brother, who was seconds away from knocking Devin out. There was blood all over Dylan, and he was furious.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Devin yelled, as he held Dylan down.

He kept moving around like crazy, so Brandon and Gilbert had to help him on the other side.

"Where the hell is he?" Dylan hissed.

"Dude!" Gilbert yelled while trying to hold him down so he wouldn't go ballistic again.