Chapter Text
Hank grasped Skittles' as tight as he could.
"Is goinna be fun, Hank!" Skittles cried, swinging their arms back and forth. Hank's grip tightened on his backpack strap. Their parents had just dropped them off, in front of the school gates so that Hank wouldn't have to walk the whole way without them. He wasn't a talkative kid, and even his doctor said that he had some social problems, even if his mother denied it. He was about to spend six or more hours in a building with people he didn't know. He was smart - he could count to twenty! - and he knew that six was a big number. When he counted it on his fingers, it took up more than an entire hand. When he figured this out, he started crying. He didn't want to be alone from his parents! They reassured him, and even let Skittles join him on his first day. It calmed him down a little, but Hank was doubting his happiness and the massive, looming gates stood in front of them.
Skittles skipped forward, dragging Hank behind him. He wanted to squirm away, but he didn't want to let go of his brother's hand. He followed reluctantly, and the two made it into the classroom. There was a big whiteboard with a word he didn't recognize, and 'to Class!' after it. All of the other kids were on the carpet, so Hank nudged his brother to let him know where they were supposed to go.
The brothers plopped down onto the edge of the carpet, which had colored squares to let them know where to sit. The class was full of kids, talking and yelling, even some crying. Oh, how Hank wanted to do the same. He tugged the scarf hugging the lower half of his face closer.
"Okay, kids!" A loud voice rang, in the happy tone his mother would use when it was time for dinner. The children silenced a bit, and turned to the tall lady in front of them. She was an adult, with a baby blue dress and matching eyes. A grin was etched into her face, and her arms were held out, like she was giving the air a hug. "Welcome to Class!"
She pointed to the board, reading the words on there. Hank made a mental note that the first word was pronounced 'well-cuhm.'
"My name is Mrs. Grunt!" she raised her hand to the top right of the whiteboard, which was laced with colorful tape and magnets. Skittles used to play with the magnets on the fridge a lot, until he tried to eat one.
A kid raised their hand. "Isn't that a sound?" they asked. Mrs. Grunt laughed. "Why, yes it is! Very good! But various words can be for different things. We'll learn about that later in the year!"
She turned to the rest of the class. "I know the start of school is very hard for many of you-" "Not me!" "so today, we'll just get comfy with the class. Why don't we go choose our seats first? When I say 'go', you can all choose a seat to sit in. These will change, so don't worry! There are enough seats for all of us. Ready?"
Hank grasped Skittles' hand tighter. *Please, please don't leave me.*
"Go!"
Kids were everywhere. Hank was yanked up when Skittles leapt out of his spot to get a seat. He managed to keep their hands together, but he didn't know where he was going. There were lots of yelling, and moving, and noises. Lots of noises. Hank let go of Skittles' hand.
Oh.
Oh no.
His hand was gone. Where was he? WHERE WAS HIS BROTHER?! Hank's vision started getting blurry. There was too much screaming. Too much movement. There was running. Skittles was gone. He was alone. He wanted Mommy. He wanted Daddy. He wanted his parents. He was scared. He was so scared. Please, Mommy, I don't want to be here-
"Hey, kiddo. Are you okay?" Mrs. Grunt was right in front of her, kneeling so she was at his height. Hank could she the peach of her face.
"I-I-I.... I just-" he started hiccoughing, and he felt tears slip through his glasses. Mrs. Grunt's face softened, and a hand came to cup his felt-covered face. Just like his Mommy.
"Are you scared, honey?" Hank nodded intensely, grabbing her long fingers with his hands. "Aw, it's okay, alright? I'll guide you to a seat. Just follow my voice, okay? You're okay, sweetie."
Hank stayed still. "Sk-Sk-Skittles-s-s," he sobbed, clutching her hand tighter. Mrs. Grunt looked at him for a second, until he saw someone running at them.
"Oh, hiya Hank! I lawst you!" Skittles chirped. Hank noticed his brother, and flung from Mrs. Grunt's hand to his side.
"Oh, is Skittles your friend?"
"Yeah, he my bwutheh. Thwa docta say he godda scoshel anksiehtee."
"Social anxiety?" Mrs. Grunt asked. Hank nodded weakly. Mrs. Grunt slowly reached out to Hank's face again. "Oh, don't worry, baby. We'll take care of that with your mommy and daddy, don't you worry. Why doesn't Skittles let you sit next to him?"
Hank nodded again, burrowing himself into his brighter brother. Skittles started walking to where he was sitting. Everything was okay again. Skittles was still there.
"Who are you, dear?"
"Deimos!"
"Deimos, hun, why don't you sit next to....her! What's your name?"
"Sandy.."
"Why don't you sit next to Sandy? I'm sure you'll become great friends!"
'Deimos' left the seat next to Skittles, and Hank took his place.
The lessons were fairly easy. Mrs. Grunt continued on like nothing had happened. After school, Mom was called so Mrs. Grunt and her could arrange special educational procedures to make Hank's anxiety less of a problem in class. Skittles was allowed to stay with him for the rest of the year. When the two brothers got home, they watched Blue's Clues and ate frozen yogurt.
School wasn't as scary as he had thought.