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Barley pushed himself out of bed with a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes once he sat up. He smacked his alarm clock, immediately stopping the blaring sound it made. He stood up and shuffled over to his dresser, yanking on the first t-shirt and pair of jeans he grabbed. When he looked at himself in his cracked mirror, he grumbled, frustrated with how tight his shirt appeared to be. Did it shrink in the dryer? Did he gain more weight since the last time he wore it? He shook the thoughts out of his head, deciding he didn’t have time to change.
Barley sauntered out to the kitchen, the way he walked showcased that he was carrying an invisible weight on his shoulders. His mother noticed this, a look of sympathy on her face.
“Barley, what’s wrong?” she asked her son as he sat down at the counter.
“Nothing,” Barley responded on instinct. The last thing he wanted was to bring his family down with him. “I’m fine, Mom. Just tired...”
Laurel frowned, leaning over the counter to brush his hair away from his face, coaxing him to look up at her. “Promise me that if it is something, you’ll tell me?”
Barley nodded, blinking back tears that were trying to form in his eyes. “I will.”
Laurel went back to getting herself ready for work, Barley slumping down onto the counter, his head resting on his arms. He took some deep breaths as he heard familiar footsteps come closer.
“Morning!” Ian greeted his family, his tone cheerful.
At the sound of his little brother’s voice, Barley sat right up, plastering on a smile. He never wanted Ian to see him like this. “Good morning, dear brother!”
Laurel took note of Barley’s instant mood change, pushing it to the back of her head as she finished stuffing things in her work bag. “Are you boys good to walk to school today?” she asked, grabbing her car keys and looping her bag over her shoulder. “I’ve got to go into work early today.”
Ian nodded. “Yep!”
“Perfect,” Laurel smiled, placing a hand on her youngest’s shoulder as she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She moved to her older son, doing the same. Only, she gave Barley’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before she stepped away. “I love you both. I hope you have wonderful days.”
“Love you too, Mom!” Ian smiled, walking over to the cupboard and pulling out a box of cereal.
Barley half-smiled at his mother, holding up his hand and saying ‘I love you’ in sign language.
Once their mother had left the house, Ian slid a bowl of cereal towards his brother, deciding to eat his own bowl standing across from him.
“Thanks, Ian,” Barley smiled at his little brother, his heart swelling a little from the small gesture.
“You’re welcome!” Ian replied, beginning to eat his breakfast. “Do you have anything to look forward to today?” he asked between spoonful's.
Barley shrugged. He didn’t really have much to look forward to anymore, especially with the bullying he faced at school. “We’re getting the new Quests of Yore minis in at work today,” he remembered. “Maybe I’ll be able to snag some after my shift.”
“That would be nice,” Ian thought aloud, knowing how long his brother had been waiting for these new figures. “Hopefully you can get the ones you want.”
Barley nodded in response, eating some more of his cereal. They ate the rest of their breakfast in silence, washing their bowls, grabbing their things, and saying goodbye to Blazey before they headed off to school.
As they walked, they greeted their neighbors, sending friendly smiles their way. Ian told Barley what he would be doing at school today, and Barley happily listened, trying not to think about what he himself would have to face once they arrived.
Barley was happy that he had History with Mx. Daire--an elf--first thing in the morning. They were his favorite teacher, and he really enjoyed their class. It was the one class that he always felt engaged in, no matter what. They were the only teacher in the school that Barley felt genuinely enjoyed having him in their class. Before Barley had to head off to Math, he walked up to his teacher, wanting to tell them the exciting news of what came in at the game shop.
“Hey, Mx. Daire,” he smiled. “Guess what.”
They smiled back at Barley, resting their chin in their hands. “What?”
“We got the new Quests minis in at the store today,” he told them, quickly glancing at the clock. “I’m working tonight, so I could set some aside for you, if you want.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Barley,” they beamed. “If you’d be able to set aside an Orion for me, I’d be very grateful.”
Barley nodded. “Will do, Mx. Daire,” he said as he wandered to the door. “See you tomorrow!”
Barley quickly ran to his Math class, accidentally bumping into someone on his way.
“Sorry!” he apologized immediately, continuing on his path.
The guy shouted back at him. “Watch where you’re going, dumbass!”
Barley brushed the comment aside, ducking into his Math class. The class went as it usually did; Barley would do his best to pay attention, but the majority of the time, he still didn’t understand what he’d learned. When class was over, his teacher pulled him aside.
“Look, Barley, I don’t know how to say this lightly,” Mr. Garth told him with a sigh. “You’re barely passing right now. You’re coasting by with a fifty-six percent.”
Barley sighed. “I’m sorry... I try really hard, but-”
“I know you do,” the troll teacher recognized, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I don’t want you to fail. I’d suggest you apply for a tutor, okay?”
Barley nodded, feeling defeated. “Okay…”
That was only the first nail in the coffin.
The rest of the day didn’t go so well for Barley. He ate lunch by himself, trying his hardest to keep himself together. He wasn’t even half-way through his senior year and he was ready to just give up. He was just so stressed and tired all of the time, and he’d definitely spiraled into a depression over the last month or so. He was praying it wouldn’t affect the way he was around Ian. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up his façade much longer.
After lunch, he had English, where his teacher handed back his essay, covered in marks from a red pen. Even though he put so much time and effort into it, it wasn’t good enough, just like every other essay he’d ever written. Barley made it through his last class--Phys. Ed.--without much trouble, but now he had to shower in the locker room, which was never easy for him.
Barley had always been a bigger guy, even when he was a little kid. Since he’d always been that way, he embraced it. But, more recently, he noticed that he’d gained some weight in a few places, stretch marks now visible on his belly, upper arms, and thighs. He figured it was the result of his stress-eating habits that he picked up not long ago.
Reluctantly, Barley stripped himself of his clothes, quickly wrapping a towel around his waist and darting into one of the showers. He showered rapidly, hoping to get out of there as soon as possible to avoid the daily body shaming from the assholes in his class.
Thankfully, he was the only one in the locker area, so he dried himself off as fast as he could, but soon he felt the familiar sting of a towel whip against his lower back.
“Hey, fat-ass,” the culprit of the towel whip, a tall cyclops named Trent, called. “Why ya in such a hurry?”
The little crew of boys behind Trent snickered as he cracked his towel at Barley again, causing him to jump from the sudden small sting of pain.
“I don’t want to listen to your bullshit, Trent,” Barley spat, pulling his pants up. He struggled to do up the button, sucking in his gut a little.
He didn’t remember having trouble with this pair of jeans when he got dressed that morning. Were they hard to get into and he didn’t notice? Or was he just in such a hurry to get away from the bullying that he couldn’t seem to do them up?
Trent cackled. “Can’t even do up your pants, fat fuck.”
Barley finished wrestling with his pants, finally getting them done up. He pulled his shirt over his head, bracing himself for the insults that were about to be thrown at him because of how tight it was.
“Look at that!” Trent laughed again, his buddies following suit. “Your shirt doesn’t even fit! You’re so fat, you’ve got fucking tits at this point, dude!”
The locker room erupted in laughs of mockery, all directed at Barley. He held his arms in front of him, trying to hide his belly and chest.
“Stop it, Trent…” he mumbled, his gaze turned to the floor. “Please…” he squeaked out. He felt so small and weak, tears threatening to slip from his eyes.
“It’s no wonder no one wants to date you,” Trent jabbed. “Your whole body is as thick as your fucking skull!”
The laughter picked up again, louder this time. It echoed through Barley’s ears, making his heart pound faster in his chest. He dealt with this for way too long, it was about time he did something about it.
Barley stormed up to Trent, running on pure adrenaline. He curled his hand into a fist and socked him right on the nose, not a second thought in his head. When Barley stepped back from what he had done, Trent was cupping his hand around his nose, blood dripping between his fingers.
Barley looked down at his knuckles, noticing the smear of his bully’s blood across them. He had no clue he could punch that hard.
“You broke my nose, asshole!” Trent yelled. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Barley was about to shout a million things back at Trent, but then he heard the locker room door slam open.
“What the hell is going on in here?” their gym teacher, Mr. Mirth, shouted as he barged into the room.
“He broke my nose!” Trent whined, pointing right at Barley.
Before Barley could explain why, Mr. Mirth took one look at his bloody knuckles and jumped to a conclusion. “Lightfoot; detention,” the centaur scowled, pointing to the door.
Barley grabbed his things and shamefully walked to the room where detention was held as the final bell sounded. The teacher on duty was his Drama teacher from his freshman year; Ms. Redwood.
“Barley, why are you here?” she asked, her tone laced with confusion. Barley was one of her best students, always on time and excited to participate.
“I, uh,” Barley sighed, stuffing his hand in his pocket. “I punched Trent Houston…”
“Does he still bother you?” the satyr asked sympathetically. Trent was in Barley’s Drama class that year, and she remembered how often Trent would bug him.
Barley nodded in response, pulling out his phone. “Can I call my brother before I put my phone in the bin? He’s expecting me to walk home with him, I don’t want him to wait for me…”
Ms. Redwood nodded, remembering how fondly Barley used to speak of his little brother. “Of course.”
Barley stood in the doorframe, dialing the number of the cellphone Ian had received for his fourteenth birthday. It didn’t take long for him to pick up.
“Hey, Barley!” he said into the phone. “I’m waiting for you by the sign!”
Barley sighed. “You don’t need to wait for me, Ian. You can walk home. I got detention…”
“Oh, how come?” Ian asked. Barley could make out the worry in his voice. The last thing he wanted was his little brother worrying about him.
“Just a misunderstanding…” Barley told him, glancing up at the ceiling as he exhaled through his nose. “I won’t have much time before I have to leave for work when I get home, so could you put my work shirt by the front door? I’ll have to just pop in and grab it…”
“Sure,” Ian agreed. “I’m sorry you got detention.”
“It’s alright,” Barley forced out a chuckle. “I guess I won’t see you until later tonight… Be safe while you walk home, okay?”
“I will be,” Ian confirmed. “See you at, what, nine-ish?”
Barley nodded. “Yeah. See you then, Ian.”
“Bye, Barley!” After those two words, Ian hung up his phone.
Barley turned off his phone and set it in the bin, half-smiling at Ms. Redwood before he plopped down in one of the desks. This was going to be a long hour.
Just as Barley had suspected, he only had enough time to run home and grab his work shirt, tell his mom he was off to work, so he had her car, and go. He sat in the parking lot in front of the shop, quickly changing in the car, preparing himself for his four-hour shift.
As soon as he clocked in, he walked over to the display with the new Quests of Yore figurines on it, instantly spotting an Orion and setting it aside for Mx. Daire. Unfortunately, only one of the ones that Barley wanted was available, but he grabbed one of them too.
He took his place behind the register, setting the two figures he’d grabbed on the counter beside him, quickly slapping ‘reserved’ stickers on them. After he’d done that, his manager came wandering out, his nametag off.
“You going home, sir?” Barley asked.
“I am,” he nodded. He pulled out the little manager badge from his pocket, handing it to Barley. “I want you to be the acting manager while I’m gone, alright, Barley? It’s just you, Quentin, and Krystal still here.”
Barley nodded, clipping the little badge onto his shirt underneath his nametag. “Got it. Have a good night, sir!”
He chuckled as he stepped out the doors. “You too, kid.”
The store was quiet for a long while. Barley stayed at the register counter, reorganizing the pins and buttons on display, while Quentin and Krystal took the emptiness as their opportunity to stock the shelves early.
“Did you grab any of the new figures, Barley?” Quentin asked, rearranging the display to make it appear less empty.
“I did!” Barley smiled, deciding to showcase the lot of pronoun buttons that were under the counter. “I grabbed an Orion for my History teacher, and I got one of those customizable ones for myself.”
“The ones that come with the clay?” Quentin asked.
“Yeah,” Barley nodded, holding it up for him to see. “I think I might make it look like me, maybe my brother...”
“That’s nice, dude,” Quentin smiled.
The bell on the door jingled, and they all turned to see who had entered. It was a mom and her child--the mother clearly did not want to be there. Quentin quickly ran the extra stock to the back while Krystal welcomed them to the store.
“Welcome to Corner of Yore Games,” she greeted, plastering on her ‘customer service’ smile. “Let me know if I can help you find anything!”
“We’re fine, thank you,” the mother spoke, placing a hand on her child’s shoulder. “My son knows exactly what he wants to buy.”
Krystal nodded slowly, glancing over to Barley with concerned eyes. The preteen wandered away from their mother as she stood by the door, clearly wanting to get out of the store as quickly as possible.
Barley swooped away from the register, walking up to her child. “Hey there,” he greeted, a friendly smile on his face. “I’m Barley, what’s your name?”
“Kyle!” the mother shouted. “His name is Kyle!”
The child winced, whispering to Barley. “Actually, it’s Kloe… I’m a girl…”
Barley nodded, his heart breaking for the girl in front of him. He’d never had to deal with a transphobic parent before. “How can I help you, Kloe?” he asked softly.
She beamed, clearly happy that someone said her real name. “I’m looking for the new Alora the Majestic figure. Do you have any?”
“You’re in luck,” Barley smiled, plucking one off the display and handing it to her. “We’ve got one left. It’s all yours, young adventurer!”
Kloe smiled as Barley led her to the register, watching her pull out what he assumed to be birthday money. As he scanned her figure, he couldn’t help but notice her eyeing the pronoun buttons.
“You want one?” Barley whispered, subtly pointing to the ‘she/her’ one while he put her figure in the bag.
Kloe nodded, sadness in her eyes. “I can’t though,” she whispered. “My mom wouldn’t let me-”
“It’s on me,” Barley smiled, keeping his voice quiet. He plucked one out of the little tray, quickly shoving it in the bag with her receipt.
Kloe’s eyes were wide. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met!”
“No problem, Kloe,” he told her, handing the bag to her. “I’m here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from four-thirty, to eight-thirty. Come back anytime.”
He waved goodbye to Kloe as she left the store with her mother. Quentin came out of the back while Krystal clapped for Barley.
“What did I miss?” he asked.
“Barley just handled a transphobic mom like a champ!” Krystal beamed, high-fiving Barley. “He gave the girl a pronoun button, on him!”
“Seriously?” Quentin smiled. “Dude, you’re awesome!”
Barley chuckled. “It’s nothing,” he shrugged, pulling a five Shard bill out of his pocket to put in the register to cover the cost of the button. “It was the least I could do. She was a sweet kid...”
Their conversation stopped as they heard the bell jingle again. Krystal and Quentin handled the new customer while Barley decided to just pay for his figurines then, and there. He payed for them and was about to put them under the counter, but he heard the customer speak.
“You do have an Orion!” he spoke loudly, pointing towards the one Barley had just purchased.
“Sorry, but that one’s reserved,” Quentin told him, Krystal nodding along.
She stepped over to the display. “We’ve got plenty of others to choose-”
“I’m sorry, reserved?” the customer questioned. “You can’t reserve shit,” he walked up to the counter, seeing the bright orange ‘reserved’ sticker on it. “What the hell? I’ve never been able to reserve anything!”
“Oh, that’s because reserving is for employees only,” Barley piped up. “I actually just payed for it-”
“That’s bullshit!” the man yelled. “I want to talk to your manager, now!”
Barley’s mouth flattened into a straight line. “Our manager went home early. I’m the manager on duty for the rest of the night,” he explained, pointing to the little badge on his shirt.
“That’s fucking garbage!” the customer complained. “Of course you’re going to allow the ‘reserving’ shit because it’s what you want!”
“Sir, it’s an actual policy…” Quentin butt-in. “I’m sorry that you’re upset-”
“No! This is bullshit!” the man shouted again, cutting Quentin off. “I want to talk to the real manager, not this idiot,” he gestured to Barley, scowling.
Barley sighed. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Nuh-uh,” he protested. “This is shit!”
“We close in five minutes anyway,” Krystal piped up. “Just come back tomorrow, we might have more Orions in stock then!”
The man grumbled something under his breath, storming out of the shop. Quentin and Krystal glanced at Barley, sympathetic looks on their faces.
“I’m so sorry, Barley,” Krystal apologized.
“It’s not your fault, Krys,” he told her, shoving his figures in a bag. “You guys can clock out now. I can close up by myself...”
Quentin glanced at Krystal. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Barley insisted. “Enjoy the rest of your night, guys.”
When Barley arrived home, he let out a heavy sigh, immediately going to his room and closing the door. He didn’t have the energy to eat dinner now. He set his figures on the floor before he flopped onto his bed, the mattress squeaking like it always did. He stuffed his face into his pillow, finally allowing all of the built up tears to flow out of his eyes like waterfalls. He cried for a while, his body shaking from sobs, his pillow now soaking wet. He heard his door creak open, and he quickly wiped his eyes, rolling over to face the ceiling, hiding the wetness on his pillow with his head.
“Hey, Barley,” Ian poked himself through the door. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, sure,” Barley told him, putting on a smile for his little brother.
He didn’t want Ian to see him so broken. He was supposed to be the tough older brother, someone who could protect him. Not someone who felt worthless after any insult sent their way.
Ian stepped in the room, immediately noticing how red Barley’s eyes looked. “Hey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Barley insisted, sitting up on his bed. “Just had a busy shift at work,” he lied.
“Oh,” Ian nodded, stepping a little closer. “Did you get the figures you wanted?”
Barley smiled a little, an actual one this time. “I got the customizable one,” he told him. “I’m gonna make it look like you,” he decided on the spot, locking eyes with his brother.
“Really?” Ian smiled, sitting down beside his brother. “That’s so cool!”
“Glad you think so,” Barley chuckled, wrapping an arm around Ian’s shoulders, pulling his little brother close to his side.
They sat there in silence for a minute, before Ian spoke again. “I guess you’re probably pretty tired... I’ll let you get ready for bed,” he said, wrapping his arms tight around his big brother. “I love you, Barley.”
Barley almost started to cry again, encasing Ian in his arms. “I love you too, Ian…”
He held his little brother tight before Ian pulled away, stepping out of Barley’s door. “Goodnight, Bar,” he said before he stepped out of the room.
“Night, Ian!” Barley called after him, the tears instantly rushing out again once Ian was out of his view.
Barley laid back down against his pillow, letting the tears flow until no more would come out. Ian would never know how much that hug meant to Barley after the shit-show of a day he had, but it was enough to stitch together Barley’s broken heart.
Barley decided that he would try to open up to his family in the morning, partly because he wanted to get it off his chest to hopefully alleviate his depression, but mostly so he could be the best older brother he could be. But he'd have to see how he felt when he woke up, to see if he was ready.
If his depression ceased, he could spend more time with Ian, and that’s all he really wanted.