Note: This is an AU chapter(s), more specifically a college one.

Mike is star athlete of a boxing club, Jeremy is a photographer, Fritz is the writer for the campus newspaper. Enjoy!

Jeremy fiddled with the camera in his hands. It was an old fashioned Polaroid; a gift from his mother for starting college next year. It was worn, a bit rusty, and didn't really flash well in dimly lit areas, but it still held a value of importance to the teen. It wasn't much of a surprise to anyone when he started lugging it wherever he went, either strapped around his neck or swung over his shoulder in it's respective bag.

It also wasn't much of a surprise when he joined the photographer's club the second week of school.

One of his classmates caught him snapping a picture of a butterfly one afternoon after class, just outside the cafeteria. She skipped up to him, blond hair bouncing as she greeted him with a gleeful smile. "You should totally join the photographer's club!" She piped, a chirp in her tone. "I hear it's a lot of fun!"

Naturally, Jeremy timidly refused the suggestion. He wasn't one for social gatherings, and he'd be embarrassed to show any of his photographs to anyone anyway. Don't clubs like those have show and tells or something like that? Geeze, did that mean he'd have to stand up and explain the 'meaning' for his picture? Honestly, that sounded terrifying. Not just because he'd have to speak in front of an audience, but saying you took a picture of a butterfly because it 'flew into your face' wasn't exactly A+ material.

The girl ended up dragging him by his sleeve to the office, standing over his shoulder as she walked him through the enrollment. Chirp doesn't take no for an answer, it seemed. With a defeated sigh, Jeremy turned in the papers and watched as she gave a giggle, feeling quite proud of herself.

They've never even spoke before now. Funny, how a single picture could change something between two people.

But it's not until the third week does Jeremy admit to himself that the meetings were actually interesting.

There wasn't many other students in there, though the one's that actually were didn't really pass as creative in Jeremy's book. There was this kid named Bonnie, nice and friendly, but he spent most of his time sleeping in the back of the room when the teacher talked. They've exchanged words every now and then, so he was alright with Jeremy, if not a bit brotherly.

They'd sit next to each other every meeting, Bonnie quietly snoring while Jeremy listened intently to the lecturer's words. Once, simply out of boredom, Jeremy reached over and styled the sleeping student's hair into a fashion that strongly resembled bunny ears. When Bonnie shook awake, he quietly noted his new hair-do as he asked Jeremy whatever the hell he missed while he was out.

The best part was that he came to school the next day with his hair in the same fashion. Turns out he liked it, and the both of them shared a snort over the ridiculousness. The photographer's club gave Jeremy a friend, it seemed.

But enough of that, let's skip back to the present. Back to now, when the bell is ringing and Jeremy's stuffing his camera into his back, smiling at the meeting's end. Bonnie's already halfway out the door, probably off to see his girlfriend, giving a dull wave to the brunette as he left.

"Mr. Fitzgerald?"

Green eyes look up from his desk. "Y-yes sir?"

"Come here for a moment"

Jeremy swallowed, an uneasy feeling rising in him. Had he done something wrong? No, he doesn't think so. If Mr. Cawthon was truly upset with him, he wouldn't be addressing him with as much kindness in his tone as he was now.

He swings his bag around his shoulder, timidly walking up to the desk. "Is there s-something you need, sir?"

The lean man senses the teen's unease, and puts up a smile to counter it. "It has come to my attention that you have a talent for action-stilled photography" He sets both hands on his desk, clasping them in a professional manner. "I've seen your scrapbook. You've taken decent qaulity photos in the last few weeks."

The nervousness in Jeremy disappears. "You really think so?" He gives a child-like smile as the teacher nods his head. "T-thank you, sir..."

Cawthon continues. "Excuse me if I inflate your ego, Mr. Fitzgerald, but you possess a skill you classmates don't seem to equal to. An eye like yours is in high demand in the world of advertisement and news, able to catch things most people would look over."

Acknowledging the compliment, Jeremy briefly ponders on where exactly this conversation was heading. "Which is why I have an offer for you." A warm smile splits Cawthon's cheeks.

"Our neighboring college campus is in need of a photographer for their newspaper. Apparently, their old one wasn't decent enough and I allowed them to take a gander at your scrapbook as a proposition. Needless to say, they were quite impressed They're willing to give you college credit if you take assignments for them"

Jeremy blinked, shocked by the offer. "They want me....?" He repeated, a little overwhelmed. A flash of worry flew across the teacher's face as the teen stuttered. "Are you sure?" His hands wrung around his bags straps nervously "There are plenty of g-good photographers in here..."

"Not as good as you, Mr. Fitzgerald."

A tiny spec of pink rushed to Jeremy's face, embarrassed. "W-what would I be doing exactly?" He stammered, watching as Cawthon pulled open his middle drawer, sorting through a few papers and picking one out from the rest. "Here"

He held the sheet out, ushering for the teen to take it. "I'm not sure what you'll be taking pictures of, but the newspaper committee should tell you once you arrive. Nice people, I assure you."

Thinning his lips, Jeremy takes the paper. Green eyes scanned over the print, squinting at the ink penned words scribbled in blanks. It was an registration form, already filled out for his name:

Request for: Jeremy Fitzgerald

Location Transfer: 7891 Etib Ave.

Request by: Fritz Smith

Reason for Transfer:

Student has capabilities needed by one or more of a student-headed organization/club. He/She will take the required core classes at their respective home school and will participate in college matters outside of regular school hours for credit. They will also be responsible for time limits/deadlines/assignments and must provide their own transportation.

Approval by educational bored and participating teachers confirmed. Awaiting student's response:

There's a blank at the end of the sentence, with two little boxes labeled as 'accept' and 'decline'. As he runs through the paragraph, he spies something at the very bottom of the paper, neatly written with red ink. He eyes it carefully.

If ya read this, our office is in the third building by the weird waterfall thing out front. Try and find us before 7PM. We have food :P

-Fritz

The motion of a pen held forward to him breaks his reading. Mr. Cawthon gives an encouraging smile. "I highly recommend you take this opportunity. This will be good for you."

Jeremy opens his mouth to reply, but finds himself short of words. He glances back down at the paper, then to the teacher again. Running the options through his head, he lingers on a few thoughts. "...What if I d-disappoint them...that I'm not good enough?"

"If they had any doubts about you, they wouldn't have been so eager to have you registered"

Jeremy muses on the sentence, unsure of how to take the compliment. He didn't get those often, mind you, but it certainly didn't hurt him to know someone, even if it was just a teacher, had faith in what he was capable for once. Now that he thinks back on it, would this make his mother proud?

A tiny smile erupts on Jeremy's face. "O-ok, then..."

He takes the pen from Cawthon's grasp, the teacher grinning proudly as Jeremy signs his name, checking the 'accept' box.

---

Whoever this Fritz guy was, he was right about the fountain being weird.

Bonnie's staring thoughtfully at the twisted stone as Jeremy unbuckles his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride"

The other student nods his head in acknowledgment, still entranced on how the water fountain was strangely figured. "No problamo" In the passenger seat, his girlfriend equally ensnared by the captivating fountain. "...Are you sure this is the right place we should drop you off?" She pipes, twirling a blue strand of hair around her finger. "I mean...this is kinda weird"

Jeremy only shrugs, clutching the paper in his hand as he climbs out of the back seat. "I-I think so...The instructions say it should be around here, so..." He trails off, unwrinkling the paper again. Glancing up from the red ink, he searches for the third building. He squints, eyeing a large poster sign on a wall a few yards from the parking lot. The number three in bold italics.

"M'k, you good for a ride home?" Bonnie asks. Jeremy falters, not wanting to further trouble the teen. "Uh...Yeah! I'll find something..." He's giving a stare of disbelief, resisting a sigh of relief when it was shaken away.

His girlfriend whips out her phone, having lost interest. Bonnie gives her a fleeting glance as he revs the engine. "If ya say so..." He muses, "I gotta take BonBon home before her dad throws a fit. Last time I got her home late, he almost ripped my face off"

Jeremy gives a little giggle as BonBon rolls her eyes. "Do you have to use that nickname?" She groans, frowning at the smug grin Bonnie dawned. "Yes. Yes I do."

Shutting the car door closed, Jeremy steps away from the vehicle, giving a small wave as the two pulled away. Bonnie leans out the window. "Laters, Jeremy"

Said teens smiles. "B-Bye! Thanks again!"

The car makes a strange sputtering noise as it rolls out of the parking lot, driving into the street. Jeremy's smile dropped, replaced with a look of uncontent. He swivels around to stare at the fountain, briefly wonder how the water was able to flow backwards as he brings the paper up to his view again.

He pulls out his phone and checks the time: 5:15PM. So, he had an hour and forty five minutes to find the photographer's office? Give or take on how big this campus was, it was going to take some time.

With false confidence, Jeremy takes a bold step passed the fountain and into the third building.

The main hallway is dull compared to his old high school. There were no anti-drug posters, no internship forms stuck to the walls, not even a bright color scheme. Instead, the gray paint was faded in some areas and fresh in others; probably re-done to hide the graffiti Jeremy spotted faintly under the layers.

First sign that this probably wasn't the best college around. The second sign was most likely the red-haired man slumped carelessly against the wall, a bottle in his hand. His eyes are half lidded and glossed out, dazed as could be. He didn't notice when Jeremy walked into the room, so maybe he wouldn't notice if the teen happened to slink by?

Jeremy was about to discreetly sneak past the drunken man when he jumps, a slurred mummer come from the unmoving body.

"Oy!" The man calls out, jabbing a accusing finger in the teen's direction. Jeremy swallows harshly, wide eyes slowly turning around to face the stranger. "Y-yes-?"

"Whata little scurvy like yeself doing on me ship?" He sneers, drunkenly hoisting the bottle up to his mouth again. Jeremy inwardly cringes as he manages to drown half the bottle's contents in one gulp. Typical college kid. "Here to steal me rum, are ya?"

Jeremy pales, eyes darting from side to side nervously. "N-no...I-I don't drink..." He sputters, frozen in place as he's interrogated. "...This also isn't a ship..."

The pirate-like man glares up at him from the floor, making the teen's stomach churn. Then, a loopy grin breaks out on his unshaven face, laughing. "Aye, I'm just messin' wit' cha, lad" He chuckles, "We don't see lil' ones like yerself running 'round here much"

An embarrassed tint stains Jeremy's face. "I'm not little!" He defends, "I'm just...y-younger than you" He pouts, earning a amused glint from the red-haired man. The teen stands in disapproval as the man tilts the bottle back, taking a big gulp. Whoever they were, they must be an avid drinker. No one can down that much alcohol and still be conscious without practice.

"Aye, which brings me to ask ya: What's a lil' one doin' running 'round a college campus, hmm?" The man snickers, "Last I checked; we ain't havin' no tours today. Even if we were, ye lads and lasses supposed to stay with ye teachers, aren't ya? Can't have no scurvy go wanderin', specially at night too"

Jeremy frowns. "It's 5:30"

The stranger halts mid-gulp, staring at the teen. "That so?" He muses, watching the teen nod. He gives a groan. "Been here since yesterday, then. Lady must be worried sick...."

Lady? Must be his girlfriend or mother or something along those lines. They stand in silence for moment, the photographer glancing around nervously as the man takes another swig. Small hands tightened their hold around his camera bag straps, Jeremy looking down to his sneakers.

"W-would you happen to know w-where the news writer's office is?" He asked, "I-uh,...T-that's all I'm here for..."

To his disappointment, the drunken pirate shook his head. "Can't say I do." He answered, pausing. "But ye can ask me roomie. Bit of a bear, ya know? Kinda gruffy, but a real teddy when ye get to known 'em"

Jeremy tilts his head in confusion. "Probably down at the rink. Ain't much of a boxer, but he can wrestle like a wild animal, I tell ya" The man continues. "His name's Freddy. Big fella, smells like shit. Ye can't miss him"

Blinking, Jeremy takes a step away. "Oh, a-alright then...thank you..." He freezes mid-step, the drunkered raising a brow. "Hold it, lad. I ain't even told ye where the rink is"

Embarrassed, Jeremy looks away. "R-right...sorry" To his relief, the man gives an understanding nod. "M'not surprised, truly. Wee one like yerself don't belong among the people here. No offense." He lifts the bottle again, only to sneer in agitation to find it empty.

Jeremy watches as it's tossed to the side, the man jabbing a thumb down the hallway. "Last door all the way down, gonna open up an' find some stairs. You might be a lil' overwhelmed, lad. It's supposed to get real rowdy at the rink tonight"

Curious, Jeremy gives an intrigued stare. He doesn't need to voice a question to receive an answer. "Fight night, lad. Anyone who walks through those doors is fair game. Though, I wouldn't worry bout yerself. They usually pick out the best of the best and make 'em throw down, yipping and cheerin' like a couple of rats. Fun times, if ya like a little blood on yer knuckles."

The college student gives a raspy laugh at the terrified expression Jeremy had sewn into his features. "Don't worry. Some of the friendliest people ye'll ever meet be down by the rink, boy. Just find Freddy, ask 'em where yer newspaper thingy be and if he ask, tell 'em Foxy sent ya"

Jeremy nodded to the information, smiling gratefully. "I will...uh, T-thanks, ya know..for helping me out"

Foxy shrugged. "Ain't nothin', lad. Just be careful when ya walkin' around the rink" He gave a devilish smirk, "It's Mikey's fight tonight"

---

Overwhelming was an understatement. Jeremy was practically going deaf by the loud cheering, the smell of sweat and booze drowning his senses.

The room was relatively big, but certainly didn't seem that way from his point of view. Curse his shortened height, but even thought he knew there was a rink situated in the middle of the room, he had no way to actually see it. But it was enough to assume from the people cheering wildly around him that whatever violent show was going on was entertaining to watch.

The crowed hardly noticed him, bumping and elbowing him without even so much as an glance. A arm hit the back of his neck, sending him stumbling forward with a yelp. His call went muted, however, the sounds of people yelling much to loud. He had a naturally quiet voice anyway, so what did it matter?

Jeremy swallowed, nervously looking around the room. Although the view was mostly just people's head or backs, there was surely some way for him to find this 'Freddy' guy, wasn't there? He remembers Foxy telling him to look for a big guy, bearish in figure. But as he looks around, trying not to get squished, Jeremy grimly notes that almost everyone around him fits that description.

Something harshly slams into his side, causing him to stumble to the ground. Just when he thinks he's about to get trampled, a hand reaches down and grabs his collar, yanking him back up to standing position. He blinks the sudden dizziness away as he stares as his holder.

"Whoooaaa, watch it there little dude!" A stranger laughed, his breath tainted with the smell of booze. Glossed eyes trailed down the teen's neck, eyeing the camera, "Yoooo, you a photographer?

Jeremy's swallowed, distancing himself away from the student. "S-something like that..."

The olderman gave a drunken laugh, taking the teen by the shoulders. "Bruh, you should, like, totally pic me" He urged, shaking the brunette slightly. Jeremy shrunk into himself, unable to step away. "I'm like, sooooo wasted right now, so uh...yeah I wanna pic of me. Right by the rink, yeaa?"

Biting his lip, Jeremy glanced around, pressured. No one seemed to notice his deliema, too engrossed in the fight happening up front. Eventually, the crowd began to chant what sounded like two names, probably belonging to the two in battle in the rink, considering it was evenly dividing the the crowd into two sections, a team for each.

Unfortunately, there was no escape, no way to wheeze out of this. And Jeremy was too much of a push-over to say no, especially to a rambunctious college kid surrounded by all his very drunk, very wild peers.

Jeremy gave a shaky sigh, unzipping his bag. "I-I guess so..."

A sloppy grin grew on the student's face. "Fuckin' real man, thanks. Gonna wanna remember this night, ya know what I'm saying?" He laughs, "Might get laid later" The brunette wrinkles his nose. Too much information, much? "That's...nice"

"Yeeee c'mon, up here!"

The hand tugging on his sleeve advances to a full-out drag, pulling the flailing brunette up to the rink. "Aw, man...My pic..." The man pauses in tugging Jeremy, fixing his hair best he could, only to have it stick up wilder. "I'm gonna look like shiiiiitttt" Well, you certainly smell like it.

With a yip, Jeremy is ungracefully shoved to the front of the crowd. He was at the ends of the rink now, facing down from the fight, not really caring to see who exactly was participating. Fidgeting anxiously, he waits for the stranger to pose as he rests his thumb on the camera's button. "...R-ready?"

The wild guy pulls a few friends around his arms, each and everyone of them sporting the stupidest expression they could muster. "Ready lil' dude!"

Click.

Jeremy calmly reaches for the photograph, shaking it dry. It was dim in the room, so there wasn't much light for the flash to stain color onto the photo. It managed regardless, developing into a dimly lit picture of the stranger and his friends.

The photo is plucked from his hand, the drunk student and his friends staring at it with approval. "Niiiiccceeeee"

Distracted by the photograph, none of them notice Jeremy cautiously slinking away into the background. He's almost made his escape when a hand taps his shoulder. Swiveling around, a woman puffs her cheeks out, jumping up and down. "Do me next! Take my picture!"

She's already posed with a few other people before Jeremy could protest. With a sigh, the brunette raised his camera, focused on the girl in the middle, and pressed the button.

Click.

The girl's still squealing in delight at her picture while someone else is already trying to get his attention again. "Hey! Little guy, shoot one of me!" A burly man, yelled, grin on his face as he held his arms out dramatically. Jeremy doesn't answer, only taking a deep breath as he unwillingly takes the picture.

Click.

The large man nods at the developed photo, punching the teen's arm playfully. "Not bad" He laughs, missing how Jeremy pouts, rubbing the red mark now evident on his limb. The ache faded after a while, but the request didn't stop.

With every flash of the camera, there was always someone behind him, eager and ready to have their picture taken. As much as he hated to say it, Jeremy wasn't exactly in any position to deny them either. He was too afraid of upsetting someone, and from his unfamiliar stance and the fact that he was in a whole new world at the moment, having someone angry with you wasn't something he needed at the moment.

Besides, he was starting to have...fun?

He realizes this as he catches himself shooting a flash into the crowd, with no real subject in mind.

A giggle escapes from him, rising to flash again. The people he would pic would sometimes notice him, but instead of a disgusted sneer of having their picture taken without their permission, like he was expecting, they only cheered him on and returned to watch the fight. Or even, in some cases, posed in ridiculous motions, so absurd it earned a soft smile from the teen.

At some point, a laugh rises from his chest as two people pose in front of him, one jumping on the other's shoulders and acting like a complete fool, 'king of the flamingos' he yelled. Jeremy barely had enough time to snap a decent picture of the both of them before watching them topple over, a child-like smile plastered permanently on his face.

Somehow, the now joyful brunette has eased his way to the very front of the crowd. Having taken pictures of almost everyone in the room, he dimly notes how he hasn't seen 'Freddy' in anyone of them. Regardless, there's a innocent gleam in his eyes as he peers up, staring into the rink.

There, two men circled around each other, blood on the both of their lips. One dawning the demeanor of a ticked off teddy bear, the other smirking with a cold, icy, blue eyes.

Jeremy froze. Was the chubbier man Freddy? Well, it would explain why it's been so difficult to find him lately. He inwardly flinches as the opponent throws a punch, hardly missing to a hair's length of the bearish man's jaw. There was no way Jeremy could ask him a simple question with how busy the guy was.

It's still very loud, and everyone's screams are still echoing in his ears. But without enough effort, he's able to make out the threats and taunts their both throwing at each other.

"Getting real tired of your shit, Schmidt!" Freddy yelled, a grin etching to his ears. "Aim for once, will ya? Make a hit! You're starting to bore us!"

To his surprise, the icy eyed man laughed. "Don't lie to yourself, Teddy..." He chuckled. "I'm starting to scare ya..."

He lunged forward, swinging to the right. Without so much of a pause, Freddy leaned to left, avoiding the hit and countering with his own. His opponent falters, bringing a smug look to his face.

Suddenly, that look falters, something hooking around his leg. He hardly has even time to see his feet swiped out from under him before a hand reaches out and grasp the front of his shirt, preventing escape. Freddy grits his teeth as he tries to counter, only for a fist to slam into his temple.

He sputters, vision going blurry as the fist recoils, coming down hard on him again. Using his elbow, he rams it harshly into the other's chest, pushing them back. It's a bittersweet progress, as the hand that held his shirt lets go, rising up to slam into his throat.

Freddy stumbles, back glaring at his opponent as he catches his breath. The other man simply looks on, a devilish grin itching at his mouth. He meets the glare with dull amusement, standing tall as he holds his arms out, unfazed. He eyed how the other man clutched his torso. "You looking a little stuffed there, Teddy"

Freddy opened his mouth to belt out some half-assed retort, but strangled air was the only product he produced. So he openly glares up into cold iris, sneering.

From the sidelines, Jeremy watches intently.

Is this what college was really like? Getting drunk and making absolute fools of yourself? Even worse; Violence is seen as common entertainment? This wasn't orderly, and this kind of crowd really wasn't Jeremy's style. Hell, any social crowd at all just wasn't him. Especially this. Something much too rowdy, too active, too barbaric.

He flinches as Freddy goes in for a hit at the blue eyed man, only to be harshly thrown to the ground. The people around him began to countdown, stopping only when the poor guy picked himself up again. So there was a time limit to how long they could stay down, it seems.

Just as Freddy gets to his feet, he's smacked to the side, stumbling to his knees. The other man stands over him, laughing as he tried to recollect himself. He takes a moment to soak in the praise of the crowd before dodging a punch to his gut, grinning.

Jeremy swallows. He was brutal.

The brunette sighed, fingers tapping lightly on the Polaroid. As much as he didn't like it, the moment really did present a unique photo opportunity. Besides, it's only been half an hour; he'd have to time to find the news writer's office later. Right now, he was shooting on his own time.

Raising the camera to eye level, he steadies it on the two, frowning at the violence. Then, in one quick motion, he presses the button.

Click.

A raised fist freezes as the rink is enveloped in a flash of light, cold eyes trailing dangerously along the crowd until they landed on a small figure. A short, floofy haired, teenager with innocent face, a Polaroid camera in his hands, aiming directly at him.

Blue met green and the air seemed to still, a hush going over the crowd.

Suddenly, an elbow solidly rams into the man's stomach, catching him off guard. He steps back with a sputter, desperately trying to collect himself when a foot kicks his knees out from under him, toppling him to the ground.

Grinding his teeth, he listens as the crowd goes ballistic again as a kick is delivered to his stomach, rolling him to the edge of the rink. There's blood at the ends of his mouth, fresh this time. There's also a heel digging into his waist, but the pain goes relatively unfelt. As the crowd reaches count three, all he can think about is innocent emerald eyes.

People are screaming and hollering at his defeat as he finds them again; staring big and wide at him from the sidelines, hidden among the frantic college peers.

Jeremy's skin goes cold as the man snarls directly at him, hands twitching angrily into fist.

Without so much of a word, he stands to his feet, mumbles something about a 'good match' to Freddy before vaulting over the ropes. The crowd parts to let him pass, hooting and bellowing at him as he angrily stalked towards a backdoor, probably to what Jeremy assumed to be the locker rooms.

Just before he disappeared, he slowly swivels around to meet Jeremy in a dead glare, baring his teeth.

You are the reason why I lost the fight.

A shudder racks up the brunette's spine as the door slams behind him, clutching his camera fearfully. Everyone around him is either too busy moping for losing their bets, or patting Freddy on the back and congratulating for beating the star athlete in the state. No one seems to have caught on to Jeremy's fault. No one but the very man he's accidentally wronged. So much for not upsetting anyone.

In his hands, a small, dark photo develops from the camera. Thanks to the dim lighting, blue seems to be the only color inked, the only clear piece of the picture. And it's looking directly at him.

---