A/N: Agnst. Agnst everywhere.

Words: 1,180

Summary: Because watching his nerdy, dorky childhood friend grow up to be  on legs was one of the most painful experiences Sehun had ever dealt with in his life.

Chapter 2/?; Break Me Down

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Sehun was Yifan's savior.

But he was also that one person who mercilessly tore him down.

It had started on that day, so many years ago;

“My name is Sehun. We're going to be bestfriends.”

That day, Yifan had believed him.

And yet, here he was. Face getting pushed into the blunt of the sidewalk, glasses crushed and thrown to the side, and crude comments being shouted into both ears.

“Oh my god, look at his teeth! Ew, they're like, rotting!”

“You should be thanking us, Four eyes. Your glasses were ugly anyway.”

“Gross, I touched his hair! It's all greasy and tangled!”

The comments...they were normal. The raw scrapes on his cheeks; those were normal, too. Yifan's gotten used to the pain; this happened everyday, after all.

It's already been three years.

The torments, the beatings – Yifan was used to them all. How long the assault lasted usually depended on the group of kids who had dibs on him that day. Today was Tuesday. So that meant his beating would last for another ten minutes.

Because it's already been an hour since they started.

So, Yifan would wait. He would sit patiently, and pray for the scars to heal quicker this time.

He didn't even cry anymore. That was good, right?

Sehun said it was good.

It wasn't long before this weeks bullies got tired of him. They spat on his face, threw dirt on his clothes, and gave Yifan one last good kick to the stomach before running off. Mentally, Yifan breathed a sigh of relief. His beating was five minutes shorter today. Surely, they would stop someday, right? Surely..things would get better.

As the other kids footsteps died out, it was silent for a few moments. And then the brown haired boy picked up another set of footsteps walking towards him. Tiredly picking his face up off the sidewalk, Yifan looked directly in front of him; gaze dull and lifeless.

Ah, Sehun.

The ten year old boy looked down at him boredly, silently offering a hand. “Let's go home, Yifan.”

Yifan nodded.

But he ignored Sehun's hand.

Carefully picking his dead body off the ground and grabbing hold of his crushed glasses, Yifan watched in silent amusement as Sehun's light brown orbs widened ever so slightly. Because it should have been obvious by now. Slowly, over the years...they had grown apart. And now, Yifan decided – he didn't need Sehun. And Sehun...he didn't need him either.

Sehun stopped caring first.

So Yifan didn't know why he was surprised.

After a few moments of Sehun staring at Yifan, and Yifan refusing to make eye contact, the two started on their usual route home. The elder took off first, leaving Sehun to silently trail behind him.

Yifan still remembered the first time he had got beaten.

It was the first day of fifth grade, all those years ago – he had only been ten years old. And when some guy in his class took his glasses and threw them over the playground's fence, Yifan had cried. He had tried to climb over the fence to get them, because if his father found that he had lost his glasses again, he would get hit.

It wasn't that simple, though. Because the boys who had taken them from him stubbornly pulled at his clothes until Yifan was forced to let go of the metal fence. They laughed as he fell to the floor, tears still streaming down his face.

And then Sehun showed up.

Yifan still remembered the look on his classmates faces when they got their asses handed to them by a second grader.

“Don't let them push you around,” Sehun had said, pushing his small wrist through one of the holes in the fence and retrieving Yifan's glasses for him. He dusted them off, firmly placing the spectacles in the elder boy's hands before turning to walk towards the front gate. “Let's go home, Yifan.”

Back then, life was easier. Back then, Sehun still cared. Back then...they would sleep in the same bed, and talk to each other everyday. They would tell each other everything; even if there wasn't much to say. They would protect each other, both mentally and physically.

Back then, Yifan hadn't felt alone.

But that was a long time ago.

Slowly, Sehun stopped coming over. Slowly, Sehun stopped waiting for him in the mornings so they could walk to school together. Slowly, Sehun stopped eating lunch with him at school. Slowly, Sehun stopped caring. And slowly...Sehun left him to fend for himself.

Eventually, they just stopped talking.

And sometimes, Yifan would cry himself to sleep. Because he didn't know what he was doing wrong. Sehun was pushing him away, and it hurt more than any beating he had ever taken.

It had taken a good year for Yifan to finally accept the fact that him and Sehun were no longer friends. To accept the fact that Sehun had made new friends. Friends who weren't three years older than him; friends that didn't cry all the time; friends who wore nice clothes and got good grades. Friends who were worth something.

Friends who were everything Yifan would never be able to be.

By the time seventh grade rolled around, Yifan was completely convinced that he didn't need Sehun in life. That he was content, sitting alone at lunch everyday and taking the beatings quietly after school. Content in hiding his bruises and scrapes from his father, and throwing his mother a fake smile every now and then to ease her worries.

Content in only seeing Sehun for fifteen minutes a day when they walked home together, because that was the only time Sehun ever bothered to wait for him.

Content in knowing that Sehun stood there, and watched kids of all ages hurt him mentally and physically for an hour or more, everyday after school.

On some days, when the beatings were particularly bad and Yifan couldn't hide the damage, Sehun would stop him before they parted ways in their front yards. Sehun's mother didn't get home from work until five, so Sehun dragged Yifan into the kitchen, gently wiping the dirt and dried blood off the elder's face, and quietly taping Yifan's glasses back together.

“I worry about you,” Sehun had once said. “Why do you let this happen?”

Yifan remembered not answering.

They were home now. Yifan was still a few steps ahead of Sehun, and just as he was getting ready to walk up the steps to his front door, there was a tug on his ripped sleeve. A little surprised, Yifan glanced behind him. Surely enough; Sehun was there. His head was down, brown fringe hiding his eyes from view.

It was silent for a few moments, Yifan patiently waiting as spurts of blood continued to drip from his wounds.

“Yifan,” Sehun finally mumbled, voice quieter than usual. There was a pause, and then the question rang out; and Yifan swore he heard Sehun's voice tremble.

“Do you hate me?”

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A/N: Ages = Sehun; 10 Yifan; 13. Should Yifan hate Sehun? Next Chap = Sehun's side of the story. This fic isn't going to be rainbows; get ready for the real pain. Mkay, hope you enjoyed. See you whenever I next see you. Also, the comments from last time were very cute. Has anyone ever told you that comments make people want to update faster? Because they do.

P.s: Chapters will get longer after chapter four.