He pulled his wrist free and punched Tristan in the side. Tristan grabbed his hand.

“Having nothing I can choose to do with my hair or clothes without you or someone in the group using it as ammo!”

He punched, and Tristan deflected, shoving his arm off-target.

“Every time I say something, you have to edge your way in, say something better or louder or cut me down, every time!”

None of the hits seemed to be really making any impact. None of this did.

“Not being able to sit down with my friends, because you’re there and I know you’ll all joke about me, and they never did it before you entered the picture!”

“It’s called getting closer to people! You figure each other out and you know where the lines are and you prod them!”

“You break my lines! You kick them down and say things and they make fun of me for weeks! They’ve been calling me ‘little brother’ for a year!” Fueled with adrenaline, Byron punched out. Even with Tristan holding his arm, he was able to clip his chin. “And then you go out with Katie!?”

“That? That’s what this is about? It was going together to the stupidest fucking movie! It was one thing! It didn’t matter!”

“It mattered to me! I’m trying to convey to you that it matters and it doesn’t get through if I say it, hit you, or scream it!” Byron’s voice was reaching a fever pitch. “I liked her and now she’s your best friend! Your beard!”

Tristan’s expression changed. His voice was as cold as Byron’s was hot. With a surge of strength, he pushed Byron’s arms down. “We’re going there? You’re going to scream it so our parents might hear it if they come in through the door?”

“They know! Everyone fucking knows because you’re really fucking bad at hiding it! It’s why they treat you with kid gloves and give you the extra attention while you ‘figure yourself out’! Katie’s more excited to have you as a gay best friend like in the movies, than she is about having me as an anything! Even when you’re not there it’s about you, because they talk about how brave you are because you’re out to people, and then they joke I’m weak, I’m lame because they think I don’t have the guts. I’m not fucking gay! I’m not weak! It’s fucking ridiculous that I get the flack!”

Byron started to win the hand-to-hand struggle once again. Tristan was stronger, but in the sheer emotion that Byron brought to bear, he forced his way forward, arms straining. He got his leg forward and pressed it against the side of Tristan’s knee, so Tristan couldn’t stay standing. Inch by inch, he pushed back and pushed Tristan down.