Chapter Text
Egon stared at his reflection in the windowpane as Peter and Ray milled about. Peter was trying to order food, getting no response from Egon as to what, if anything, he wanted to eat, while Ray anxiously tidied up the dorm. Well, attempted to, at least. As he dragged out Egon’s cleaning supplies, he seemed to leave more of a mess than he cleaned up.
The effort was appreciated, at least by Peter, who couldn’t even bear to look at Egon’s desk in its current state. He would squeeze his eyes shut as he walked past it, not wanting to even chance looking at the notes still left behind. They’d been able to work together to get rid of most of it that first night, after Egon had been safely deposited in bed.
A lot of the cleaning up they had done that night was ensuring there was nothing within immediate reach that Egon could further harm himself with. Tools were moved to Ray’s dorm, metal utensils, knives, and all of the cleaning chemicals had been put away in cupboards that could be shut tight with a simple padlock.
Peter and Ray had also put away any and all potential shock or burn hazards - the toaster, hair dryer, Egon’s clothing iron - in a locker Peter had rented at the local YMCA. They’d rather be seen as going overboard than risk losing Egon again by overlooking even the most incidental item.
If Egon had any complaint with his friends’ thorough hazard proofing, he didn’t voice them. He didn’t voice any other thought, for that matter. He hadn’t since he’d woken up the morning following the drill incident.
If he focused past his face, he could see out into the night sky from where he sat. The stars had always calmed Egon, made him feel so comfortingly grand. Every human being on the planet, including himself, was formed of the same materials that made up the endless expanse of brightly burning giants. And someday, he knew, he would likely become part of that very expanse, rejoining the universe that had formed him and everything else he knew.
If he dared to admit it to himself, he hoped deep down that he would join the ranks of the stars that had entranced him as a child. Maybe, just maybe, he would become one of the grand dots in the deep blanket of the night, inspiring another child to pursue the answers held within the cosmos.
Now was not the time for hope. It wasn’t even the time for admittance.
All that Egon felt it was time for, was to retreat within himself. To let his conscious thoughts and actions be swallowed by the thick, tarry nothing that seemed to fill his form. That had made every one of his peers reject him since before he was old enough to realize why. That had driven him to try and drill a hole into his brain only a few short days ago.
He brought his focus back to his reflection. He was not a star. Hell, he was barely a person. For years, he’d begun to believe he was only really human in physiological composition. That was the only thing about him that wasn’t broken, that composed his only saving throw against the fundamental wrongness that had to lie within him.
His eyes, empty and impossibly dark, so brown in this light that they appeared black, traced over his features. His dark hair pressed against his head by clean cotton gauze. The carefully applied bandages covering his temple, although he had stopped bleeding. He likely needed stitches, but when Peter or Ray attempted to offer to take him to the hospital, Egon would only scowl at them. The hollows beneath his eyes and under his cheekbones, making him believe he looked a lot worse than he felt.
His lips were pressed into a tight line, static and unchanging as he breathed deeply and slowly through his nose. He attempted a smile while the others were busy, just wanting to see if he still could.
His best attempt turned out to be a strained grimace. It reminded him, for the briefest moment, of a photo from his childhood.
He could remember it like it was yesterday, although that was how he remembered just about everything. He’d been tasked with ensuring that his brother didn’t get into the garden before their pictures were taken, especially since their mother had spent the extra effort (and money) having their suits tailored.
He could remember the way his mother had fidgeted with the string of pearls about her neck, her brow creasing as Egon stared up at her with a long-practiced neutrality.
She stressed the importance of Elon staying inside, and keeping his suit as clean as possible. He could do anything he wanted inside the house, so long as he did it quietly, because “your father has had a very long day and wants to relax before we go and have our pictures taken.”
Egon had nodded, returning his attention to the circuit he had been working on all morning, letting his mother linger in the doorway with her lips pressed into that tight, thin line that always came over her when trouble started brewing. He faintly remembered a pang of emotion, wanting to make his mother proud. As soon as her footsteps trailed away down the hall, Egon sprung into action.
He ran off to look for his brother, trying to keep from making any noise as he tracked him down, intent on making sure his mother’s request was followed to the letter.
Egon huffed through his nose at the memory. His brother, of course, was doing exactly what their mother had requested that Egon make sure he didn’t do, which led to one of their biggest fights to date. Egon hadn’t even spoken when he found Elon digging in the garden, just jumped onto his back and started to attack him with a growl that turned into a scream of frustration.
Elon had reacted first with confusion, then panic, then rage of his own. They had kicked, punched, scratched, and bit at each other until they were both covered in mud, scrapes, bruises, and their suits were all but ruined.
Egon couldn’t forget the horrified gasp of his mother discovering the two of them if he tried. Guilt and shame washed over him now just as it did then. He remembered the shadow of their father looming over them after their mother hurried them inside, the way his gaze seemed to bore down into the two of them as their mother scrambled to find suitable replacements for their now unwearable suits.
Most of all, he remembered Elon crying after the photos were taken. The fear of their father’s impending arrival to mete out punishment to the both of them.
“Egon? Egon!”
Ray’s panicked voice shattered his reminiscing, and suddenly Egon could feel the icy wind nipping at his cheeks. He’d opened the window, one foot propped on the sill, and as his mind returned to somewhat rational thought, he stepped back quickly as Peter and Ray both rushed to grab him.
“What the fuck, Spengs?!” Peter snapped, ushering him back to bed. “We turn our backs for thirty seconds and you try jumping out the window?! ”
Egon just stared at Peter, trying to recall what had driven him to even get out of bed in the first place. He couldn’t for the life of him remember, and it was beginning to upset him more than the attempts themselves. He let them settle him back into bed, turning his attention to the minutiae of his hands as they bustled off to the kitchen, likely to think of what to do to keep their friend from making another attempt on his life.
Ray was frustrated nearly to the point of crying as Peter attempted to comfort him and soothe his own nerves.
“I don’t know what to do, Pete. I-” Ray groaned, rubbing at his eyes, trying to scrub away hot tears. “Why won’t he talk to us?”
Peter patted Ray’s back, brows furrowed. “I don’t know, Ray. There has to be some way to get through to him.”
Ray shifted anxiously, moving his weight from foot to foot as he thought, his face a picture of desolation. He wracked his brain for ideas, fidgeting all the while. Peter began pacing the floor, poking his head out of the doorway each time he reached it to check on Egon.
Egon continued to stare at his hands. Peter was relieved that he hadn’t gotten up, but at the same time, his stomach twisted into knots. He’d never seen Egon so unresponsive, at least never like this.
“That’s it!” Ray suddenly cried, and Peter whipped around to look. Ray rushed to the bulletin board that Egon had put up, pulling down a note that had likely been there untouched for at least a month. Peter hurried over, looking over Ray’s shoulder, his eyes lighting up immediately.
Call Elon: Friday, 8:45 PM.