Monday 30th October 2017

Triston Finch was walking home from the swimming baths when he heard a shout behind him.

"Alright, Bender?"

He turned, readying himself for the jibes. He was used to this. Letting a wall of confidence and passively indifferent protection wash over him he took on the group of ten or so young men.

Triston recognised a few of them; he knew the younger ones went to Dover All Boys Private University, because Max's brother attended it. In fact, at the front of the group stood Rohan Forte, Triston's boyfriend's twenty-three year old brother. He was tall, strong. Had the same fair, tightly curled hair that Maximus had.

Before Rohan stood Julian, Maximus's next older brother- in his second year at Dover University, he was nineteen, built like Rohan, hard-featured, with again that hair. The hair that Triston loved on Max but made Rohan and Julian look like cheap Cabbage-Patch-Kid dolls.

Behind them stood a few that Triston definitely recognised... he always saw them hanging around the top end of the park after on his long walk home; they sometimes shouted weak insults at him, if they could be bothered.

Elyan Jude was stocky, with dark skin and a shaved head, whereas Scott Mycroft was tall and slim, with light hair and stubble. Triston knew for a fact that Officer Nicko Relpek- Tarrow's uncle- had arrested and released the pair of them with a fine, for drug use, along with James Gardener. And sure enough, at another glance, Triston saw the James was there too. Twenty-one with thick black hair and an ugly smile. His younger brother Piers was there as well; Piers was in Julian's year at Dover: the first year of university.

There was also Albert Honan; he worked at the fish market, he was twenty-two with dreadlocks and sharp features. He was retaking a year at Dover. From what Triston had heard through the grapevine, Albert spent a too much time in and pub and too little time at lectures- he did indeed stink of drink.

There were another couple of others that Triston didn't know: one young man who was tall, dark haired and dark skinned with an earring, who would have been attractive without his twisted grin. Another at the back of the group was shorter and freckled- he looked nervous and scared and his long sandy hair was all in his eyes.

"Hello, Rohan, Julian," Triston nodded wearily to each of them, dreading what was going to happen next. "Anything I can do for you?"

"You can get yourself clear away from Maximus, that's what!" Julian didn't come across as intimidating as perhaps he believed he did, partly because of his incredibly strong 'Upper Received Pronunciation' accent. It was borderline comical.

Triston knew exactly what this was about. He decided to play for time.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard him, faggot." Rohan was undoubtedly more frightening than his younger brother, especially as he took a step forward as he said "faggot", and he was a head or so taller than Triston. The intentionally offensive word bounced right off Triston; he had heard it far too any times for it to upset him.

"What have I don't to deserve such a berating?"

"You fucking well know what, you dirty little bugger," Rohan snarled.
Triston inwardly sighed.

"So you have an issue with you and mine brother's relationship, and you've decided to come and... ah... put me 'straight', as it were, along with a big group of your posh school mates to make sure it's a fair fight?" Triston knew as soon as the sarcastic comment came out of his mouth that saying it had been a bad a idea.

"Yeah, something like that," James growled, smirking all over his round face.

A very, very bad idea.

Elyan and Scott took a step forward. Triston held his ground.

"What would you have me do?" He asked, quickly analysing the situation.

He couldn't see any gaps to run through in the semi-circle the gang on boys had created around him, spilling off the pavement onto the road. But he wasn't far from his house, and if push came to shove he knew he wouldn't stand a chance, especially when he was this outnumbered. But if he could get up the hill and across the road, he'd be on safe ground, and he was pretty sure he could outrun most of them. He had strong legs, a swimmers legs, the type of legs you get from walking half a mile to and from school ever day.

"Never see him again," Rohan sneered. "Like, ever."

Triston reeled.

"What?"

"That's right," Julian piped up. "You've got to stay away from him. And the rest of our family. That's what Mum said." He stood back, apparently pleased with himself. The idiot.

"You have got to be kidding me," Triston said, appalled.

Rohan elbowed Julian in the stomach, probably for mentioning the mother. He turned back to Triston.

"You've messed him up, Finch. You and your fag ways have turned him into a sad little gay boy like you, and we can't have you dragging the Forte name through the mud."