Chapter Text
Jason would have to had been an idiot to ignore his parents' recent troubles. These "recent troubles" involving smashed plates, passive aggressive remarks, screaming matches, and ruined dinner parties.
For in the months leading up to his eleventh birthday, the family dynamic changed in a drastic fashion. Just to clarify, Marvin and Trina always had underestimated Jason's attentiveness, it just escelated as the impending threat of divorce grew. They interpreted his quietness as some sort of psychological damage, his solo chess games as a social anxiety disorder. It was insulting.
It was insulting because Jason was likely the most self-aware of the family, unbeknownst to the others. He remembered every little thing. Kids are just annoying like that. The first time Marvin skipped dinner was a frigid winter night, and despite the snow, he had been persistent on going out for a drink, promising to bring home a bottle of wine for him and Trina. Yet an hour later, Jason and his mother sat alone at the table. Assuming the newly fallen snow was to blame for Marvin's lateness, the two sat in silence, Jason playing with his spaghetti and waiting for his mother's signal to eat. A signal which never formally came.
Once Marvin's absences became a regular occurrence, the dinners grew less awkward. Less tense. Trina still underestimated her son in his social skills and ability to comprehend grief, but as Marvin strayed further from the family, a mother and son relationship strengthened. It was only when directly dealing with family issues did the three struggle.
It was only when Jason first met Whizzer that everything fell into place.
Marvin's late nights home, the fighting, the sleeping separately, the uncomfortableness, all of it made sense when Jason met Whizzer. Yet they didn't have the formal meeting that Marvin had been meticulously planning and anxious for. The kid didn't even know the stranger's name at the time, the night a bit too mortifying for names to be politely exchanged.
After weeks of persuasion, Trina finally agreed that Jason was capable of staying home without a babysitter. Marvin hadn't lived with them for a month or so, and Trina was more on edge than ever. In Jason's mind, his mother now fully embodied the Jewish mother steryotype. It was hilarious.
Yet he was proud of his small victory, Jason home in bed on a Friday night while his mother went on a long-overdue shopping spree. Snacking on popcorn, he watched television and indulged in the apartment's emptiness.
Despite how immature his parents deemed him to be, Jason was proud of likely being the most mature in his grade. Chess was not a passion of fellow elementary schoolers, and he hasn't been an asshole since his parents' fighting began. Hell, he deserved a night dedicated to sugary food and trashy television shows. Jason knew damn well it was only fair.
He crunched on his food extra loud just to make that point.
So when the apartment door slammed open, Jason froze. He wasn't necessarily doing anything wrong, Trina hadn't clarified a bedtime or anything, but that didn't stop Jason's heart from beating out of his chest.
After the slight moment of panic, the boy scrambled to turn off the television, Jason then throwing the bowl under the bed. He couldn't be bothered to hide the scattered kernels, his only priority was to avoid his mother's wrath. She wasn't angry like Marvin, but her level-headed remarks rivaled those of professional investigators.
Head buried underneath the covers, Jason at first only heard the sound of New York traffic from the streets below. But once five minutes passed, his fear was replaced with anxiousness. Why hasn't Trina checked up on him? Did she go to sleep already? Was it even Trina? Has someone broken into his home? Oh shit, would they hurt Jason?
Being smart has its downfalls, Jason's curiosity at this point not allowing his brain to rest. For, Jason immediately runs through possible situation after possible situation, again overthinking in a time of stress. Yet he makes the executive decision to grab the baseball bat from the back of his closet. Hopefully Jason's swing will improve by the time he reaches the kitchen.
Opening his door slowly, he musters one last gulp of air before walking out in the hall. Bat shaking in his hands, he knows that his fear is irrational, and that his mother is just getting a cup of tea before saying hello, but like his father says, "Logic often succumbs to the heart." Of course it was bullshit, but Marvin has been spouting weird proverbs ever since his weekly meetings with the psychologist started, they difficult for Jason to ignore.
The kid was at the end of the hall. The kitchen was in view to Jason's left, it clearly empty, the living room beyond the wall to his right. Pressing his ear to the wall, Jason hears voices and shuffling. It wasn't Trina, the steps were too heavy. Their steps were too heavy. It was two of them. Two men, possibly. That's what it sounded like. The coats were too heavy, the muffled voices too low, and the strides too clumsy to be Jason's mother. Shit.
"Jesus, just relax Marvin."
"Whizzer, he is in the next ro-"
"He's fast asleep, what is there to worry about? Trina said he'd be in bed by now, he doesn't even need to know we've stopped by."
"Christ, you're going to kill me one of these days." Jason recognized this tone. His father's stern, almost mocking tone. It was all too familiar. Relieved that there weren't complete strangers roaming the home, Jason had moved past the original fear of intruders in the apartment. Yet other thoughts took its place. As much as he hated to have this come to mind, Jason was puzzled not on determining the other man's identity, but on how his father had a friend in the first place. Marvin and Trina didn't host many parties, Marvin was always working, and Jason's never been introduced to any of their supposed "friends." Friends weren't exactly his parents' thing. And they wonder why he has social issues.
Jason was over it at this point. No longer scared, and no longer interested in the idea of staying up as late as possible, he just wanted a proper meal to settle his stomach and a good's night rest. So, he turned the corner.
The lights in the living room were on, much to Jason's disappointment. There was nowhere to hide, and nowhere else to direct intrigue. Marvin sat on the couch, in the same spot he always claims during family game nights. One difference. His knees hugged the torso of a much younger man. Kneeling on the floor, his hands clasping Jason's father's face enthusiastically, the man a total stranger to the child. Given his elementary school concept of sex, Jason could only describe the two as... sucking face.
Assuming the kiss would have gone on for hours if possible, Jason felt the need to stop it immediately. Thus, natural instinct kicked in. Jason's jaw and bat fell to the floor symaltaneously.
Both men's eyes shoot open at the abrupt noise, Marvin finally noticing his son in the doorway. Took long enough. The stranger is shoved off of Marvin, stumbling onto the carpet, his shocked expression morphing into one of aggravation. Marvin doesn't speak, his head now in his hands. For what feels like an eternity, it is silent. It is uncomfortable. And it is infuriating.
Finally the other man speaks up, "See you later, Marvin. I had a fucking blast." He picks up his coat, adjusts his hair, and gives Marvin a harsh look. Passing Jason on the way out, he mutters, "Bye, kid." Great first impression.
"Jason." Marvin tries to sit up, sweat now beading up on his forehead. Jason has never seen fear in his father's eyes, but now that he has, he's happy. Trina doesn't deserve this sort of treatment, Jason doesn't deserve this sort of treatment, and frankly nobody deserves this sort of treatment. Was his father this blind? Was he this unaware of his actions' consequences?
"I'm telling mom."