It had been an ordinary night at the Dragon up till now. On a seemingly permanent high the crew had been celebrating their one-week anniversary of the Streets victory. It was nearly the next day- people had joined the party at various stages but dwindled as the hours passed. Chase'd been left with Andie- and Moose. He snorted in frustration, recalling the boy's obvious inability to see he was a glaring third wheel in the trio. Sure, he was good friends with Andie but his friendship with Chase was a bit awkward- and they had things they'd much rather be doing than talking to him.

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After far too long, Moose decided to go home after copious bouts of yawning. Silently cheering, Chase and Andie barely waited until he was at the door before beginning an extended make-out session. Chase's general feeling of aroused triumph was flattened when, not 5 minutes later, a text from Sarah informed Andie she was outside and waiting in the car. A medley of kisses and rolled eyes later, Chase was shivering through the rain outside, glad he lived close to the restaurant. There weren't many people out- a few girls spilling from the red glow of the Dragon and several figures looking down at something a few dozen feet in front. As he got closer, Chase realized it was another person. One of the boys drove his foot into the fallen person's ribs, gratified by the choked gasp and laughter of his companions. Chase broke into a jog.

"Hey- clear off, alright? Just let him go." Chase said.

"Who the fuck are you? You better clear out or we'll bash you too!" one said.

Chase's temper rose, and he stopped a few feet from the boys. He was ready to lash out but didn't need to- the eldest boy swore violently and hissed to the other:

"Let's go, come on, it's that MSA guy. Tuck's going to shred us if we do him!" After a moment of icy glares (Chase was unsure why they hadn't resorted to blows yet) among the increasing rainfall, the three turned and skittered to a double-parked car, before roaring off through the night.

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Still confused over his sudden influence over the attackers, Chase grimaced down at the boy crumpled on the ground with a growing feeling of horror. Not just some drunken hobo- he grabbed the sodden shoulder and hauled him half-upright to squint at the face in the drenching rain. Something cold stabbed and held deep in Chase's chest- there was dark blood running down from scrapes and they were in a dark puddle the street lamp didn't shed its feeble light on but he could still easily recognise the other. It was Moose.

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As worry and slight panic set in, Chase's inner critic cursed the rain, those fucked-up kids, Moose, himself- what a stupid thing to get mixed up in on Saturday night when your chief desire is imminent sleep.

"Moose? ..hey, Moose!? Come on, talk to me."

Moose managed a bloody slur that sounded vaguely like 'Chase..?' He was sagging against Chase and sustaining a conversation seemed beyond him. Chase chewed on his lip. There was no way he wanted to call an ambulance and have to sit for hours into dawn waiting under horrible fluorescents.

"Hey, Moose, I'm going to call your parents- do you still have your phone?" Moose emitted a slight snort. "Don't bother... they're away..overseas." It was getting harder to talk- both because Moose was lapsing in and out of lucidity and because the rain was so heavy it hefted a stinging, cold weight on Chase's back. It was far heavier than at their victory a week ago- Chase was soaked and numb (he could only imagine how Moose must have felt).

"Okay...shit. I'll take you back to my place for a while." Chase said. A gingerly executed piggyback hoist ensued as he had no idea how beat up Moose was and didn't want to aggravate any breaks. When Chase finally had a secure grip under Moose's knees and was moderately confident the other wouldn't just slide off backwards, he set off for his house. Moose was muttering drifting apologies and profanities in equal quantity into Chase's right ear and he occasionally stopped in breaks of silence that gave Chase shudders, but the trip wasn't hellish- Moose couldn't have weighed more than Andie.

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It was a struggle to open the door with Moose on his back but they finally entered, creating a large puddle in the hall. It wasn't worth going into long explanations with his parents now, so Chase crept heavily past their ajar door to his own room. After all the trouble he'd caused, Chase was tempted to dump Moose onto the wooden floor, but obeyed his better instincts and deposited the boy on his bed. Flicking the light on, he permitted himself a worried look over Moose. He made eye contact with the other (intensely awkward), who the light seemed to have dragged back into awareness. "Sorry...they came out of nowhere, man." Moose said. He was soaked, bloody and looked completely wretched. Chase sighed. What, at 2 am, was he going to do with Moose?