Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Nobody could ever love a bully. The boy with torn-up fists, colored vividly by the blood of his victims. Perhaps an idiot, one that despises having their face in one piece, would take that bet.

Reese Wilkerson sat at his usual lunch table, surrounded by all of his friends. It was empty except for him. He poked at the remains of his breakfast (lovingly thrown into a paper bag by his mother) which were now, also, his lunch. Not that he had much of an appetite that day.

His normally empty skull had become infested with questions. He wished he could shake them out. Maybe plug his nose and blow them out through his ears like in the Saturday morning cartoons.

Among these intrusive, little beetles was a monstrous and vicious tarantula. It rattled and tore at everything around it.

Why am I like this?

And what a tough question it was. Harder than any of the ones on his math tests. Those tests that made him press his face real close to the sheet, pretending to understand the numbers and formulas. Because, unlike with those, he couldn't just glance over at the work of others and squint hard in hopes of stealing the right answer.

Maybe the answer to this question would reward him with something better than the Fs he had learned to expect. Hopefully, it would teach him how to stop everyone's eyes from dissecting him.

He would never admit it, not even to his own family (hell, especially not to his own family), but those looks scared him. Their unfair judgment.

They judged his hand-me-down, discount bin clothing. And the fact that all of his stuff was held together with duct tape. They judged his hygiene and how his clothes never seemed fully washed.

It hurt. Maybe not in the same way a knee to the stomach does, but he would try anything to make them feel his pain.

"Hey. Reese. Are you gonna stop drooling soon? You said you would help me move the lab equipment, remember?" A blue-eyed, bushy-browed dork stood to his right. He had several beakers held to his chest, trying his best to keep them steady with both arms. "My arm still hurts. And the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can start on my experiment."

Despite being brothers, he and Malcolm shared very few qualities. Reese was fit with green eyes and black hair. Malcolm was on the scrawny side and a brunette.

While the younger one was a smart-ass that excelled at everything academic, the older one was a thug that had a hard time spelling 'TV.' It was like Malcolm had somehow received every brain cell that Reese lacked.

And, although neither was a social butterfly, so to speak, Malcolm still had him beat in the friendship department. If it weren't for their shared penchant for pulling pranks, being destructive, and disobeying their mother, they might as well have been strangers.

"Get lost, Malcolm. Can't you see I'm busy here?" The voice that left Reese didn't have his trademark bite to it. It came out more like a plea than a command.

"With what? It's not like you're waiting for anyone." Malcolm could be dense at times and often threw his words around carelessly. "It'll be quicker with three people. Plus, Stevie can't hold the chemicals and roll his wheelchair at the same time."

Reese's shoulders stiffened. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Move along, or you'll be doing your experiment from a hospital bed, asswipe." That sounded more like him.

That was the voice that got Johnny from the year below him to roll around on the floor like a dog. With it, and a ruthless punch here and there, he had ruled his middle school. He'd been the apex predator that kept it running smoothly. A notion that was proven true when anarchy broke out in his absence, as everyone tried to claim the crown and title of Biggest Bully.

However, once he reached high school he became just another fish in the pond. He no longer served an arguably noble purpose, instead choosing to exert his force over anyone that wouldn't fight back. The allure of power was just too great to surrender.

It was a feeling he never got while he was at home. His parents knew all of his tricks and had the upper hand authority-wise. Malcolm, on the other hand, fought back with an equal intensity no matter how hard he tormented him. And, their younger brother, Dewey, always seemed to outsmart Reese without needing to trade blows.

His strength and bravado weren't noteworthy in the Wilkerson household.

Malcolm huffed. "Fine. See if I ever leave my homework out for you to copy, again." His footsteps faded until becoming part of the noisy fog that filled the school courtyard.

Reese let out a huff of his own and threw his face down onto his arms, which were crossed over the tabletop. Prickly waves of heat bit at the back of his neck. A flock of girls could be heard pulling their heads back and cackling nearby. Somehow, he just knew they were laughing at him.

His mood was skewing toward the extreme. Fury felt more like a brother to him than Malcolm did at that moment.

On days like this, a human punching bag rarely failed to make it better. The buzzing headrush that only pure adrenaline could deliver.

Maybe he's sick, but just the thought of breaking something, or someone, made his lips tighten into a sneer.

But, then again, was he the one to blame? Or was it the voice in his head? The one that tells him to do objectively terrible things just for the hell of it.

He did his best not to dwell on that. The last time he told someone about it, they tried putting him into the mentally-disturbed class. But how disturbed could he possibly be when he knows not to listen to it?

Okay, maybe, every once in a while, he gave in. A few fires didn't change the fact that he knew better. Neither did sharing a laugh with it. Plus, it had been getting quieter and quieter for a while at that point.

So, imagine his concern when he heard someone calling out, and couldn't decide whether the sound was coming from inside or outside of his brain. He just pressed his face more tightly into his skin, praying for lunch to end soon. What he would have given to shut off his brain at that moment...

Normally, It was like a switch. He could just sing to himself a bit, and, poof, nothing mattered anymore. After that, he would be content to sit and throw a ball at the wall for hours, letting his toned arm do all the thinking.

But the switch wouldn't flip this time. That put him on edge. And the voice was still trying to get his attention. "Hey."

Shifting just enough to open one of his eyes, Reese decided to find the source of that word. Across the way, sat a girl with pink-tinted glasses and hefty spirals of red hair down her shoulders. It was shiny and smelt great. He knew this because he sat behind her in history class and would often pull on it instead of listening to the lecture.

She was at a table surrounded by several other pretty girls. They were the same ones that he heard giggling earlier. Turns out, they'd been playing with a fortune teller and paying him no mind.

He closed his eye again. Now, he kinda wished they had been laughing at him, if only to know that someone was paying attention.

Attention. That's something he didn't get unless he was in trouble. At home, there was never enough to go around. Everyone was always up to something, and it seemed, at least to him, that all of their business took priority over his.

Hell, why did Malcolm expect Reese to give him the time of day when he never did the same?

Just yesterday, when Reese told him about a shiny rock he found that was shaped like boobs, he didn't even react. As if doing homework was so much more important.

So, it only made sense to punch him in the shoulder as hard as possible. That got a response out of him.

Was there a way to get people to listen that didn't involve violence? Maybe. Reese had yet to find it, though.

Not that he hadn't tried.

Like that time at the park. He didn't want to beat up that guy and steal his Frisbee. He wanted to throw it back and forth. Maybe even show off the move he'd been practicing. But when Reese walked up to him, ready to ask if he could join, he saw fear sweep over the guy's face. And his body went into autopilot.

Even after his true emotions kicked in, he was too embarrassed to go back and make it right. And that made him angry at himself.

He, rather often, didn't like himself.

"Dude?" Tried the voice again. It was a bit louder this time. He wasn't sure how much longer he could ignore it.

Could he get the nurse to send him home? Maybe if he threw up a little on her shoes. He really didn't feel well, so it wouldn't be a total lie.

"Reese?"

His body shot straight up, like when he got tazed after punching a cop. This voice was definitely real. The one in his head only ever addressed him using insults, never his real name.

A guy about his age, and at least a head taller, stood to his left. He leaned in a bit, wearing a smile that made Reese shift in his seat.

His blonde hair parted into curtains that hung on either side of a thin face, drawing focus to his dark brows and strong nose. The blue that peeked through his thick lashes was that of an endless evening sky. The last moments of dimming light before a pitch-black night.

Reese tried putting a name to the face before him, but came up short. Who was he and why did he seem to be familiar with Reese?

"Uh, hey... If you're here about the brass knuckles, I already sold them to someone else." The green-eyed teen offered.

That just made the dude's smile get brighter, revealing a row of clean, white teeth.

Reese swallowed, clenching his jaw a bit. "What? Why are you smiling at me?" He asked, but he already knew the answer.

The asshole had come to laugh at him. Just like everyone else. Look at the mean, ugly loser sitting all by himself and eating leftovers for lunch.

Well, if this dude thought his height advantage would scare him, he was dead wrong.

"Nothing." A giggle. "I just saw you sitting by yourself and I was wonder-"

A punch to the lips stopped him from finishing his sentence. The warmth on Reese's fist spoke of blood.

He knew it was coming, but the sound of snickering still made his face warm violently. It was the same feeling he got back when Malcolm pulled down his swim trunks in front of the crowds at the water park.

Blondie had bent over with a hand to his mouth, muffling a groan. "What the hell!" The words came out poorly pronounced, as if he were chewing on cotton balls.

"You wanna laugh?" Reese grabbed a handful of soft hair and used it to pull the taller boy back up to his level. "Well, this joke will knock you off your feet."

He wound his upper body back before slamming forward into a headbutt. The loud smack sent his opponent to the floor.

The dark-haired teen blinked several times while the stars cleared. Once he had a view of the other boy, he saw the trail of blood that dribbled over his lips and down his neck, blooming over the front of his white t-shirt.

Reese's heart was shaking as he took some heavy breaths. His fingers tingled as a breeze blew through them.

Those blue eyes, which now scanned him in a panic, had become glassy and unsteady. A single tear had broken through. "I- I-"

He took a step forward before dropping to his knees in front of the stranger. His hand gripped the freshly-dyed fabric. "You what?"

His heart continued to spasm about. He let his gaze drop to the bloody mess that was the guy's lips. Various shoes had appeared at the edges of his vision. He was only vaguely aware of them.

"I didn't-" The stranger tried, again. "I'm-"

Reese was getting impatient. He found his eyes wandering once more. They landed on those slightly swollen lips. If he squinted, the red that coated them resembled a glossy lipstick. The color of cherry pie. The color of candy.

The stranger smelled good. It was painfully obvious at this distance. Every labored breath filled his lungs with cinnamon and sugar.

He might not have had an appetite earlier, but that was quickly starting to change. The voice in his head told him to run away. Now. But he had never been great at listening.

He took a taste.

Chapter Text

A three-week suspension wasn’t unusual for the second oldest child of the Wilkerson family. Neither was police intervention.

Kissing a boy, one that he had just beaten to submission, was.

Had it happened in his nightmares? A few times. But this time he wasn’t met by the darkness of his bedroom and an awkward boner. Instead, he was walked into the principal’s office and sat down in a chair. One that might as well have his name carved into it.

In the past, while receiving his compulsory lecture, he would play dumb and deny all accusations. The fireworks that went off in the gym could have been anyones. Someone else put that snake in his locker. But now, the silence on his end was damning.

A few students had gathered around by the time Mr. Herkabe, the school’s dean of discipline, pulled him up by the neck of his t-shirt. Not a lot. Maybe ten or so. But they had all seen the moment he kissed that dude.

They were probably letting the whole school know about it at that very moment. He would have done the exact same thing in their place.

He cursed under his breath. Maybe it’ll turn out like that time he left his lab partner a note on her desk, asking her out. When she, along with everyone else in the class, didn’t even know who he was.

By the time the officers finally came around, he almost didn’t hear them through the buzzing in his ears.

“He’s not pressing charges for some reason. Probably brain damage, by the looks of that face.” It seemed his criminal record wouldn’t be getting another entry. Not that it made much of a difference, considering its already immense size.

Reese tried to reply, but could only manage the slightest nod.

“You got lucky this time, kid. Now come along so we can escort you off the premises. Your dad’s out there waiting for you.”

Crap. What had they told him?

The delinquent wasn’t worried about any punishment his father could dish out. After all, he was far from the family disciplinarian.

No, what put him on edge was Hal finding out he kissed a boy. How was he going to explain that to him?

He kissed me, so I had to fight him off.

See, I was just trying to headbutt him a second time, but my aim was off and my lips landed on his lips. But it wasn’t a kiss!

I thought he was a girl!

Hold on. Wait! It actually was a girl. She just wore her hair on the shorter side. And dressed like a dude. A lesbian! That’s hot.

So what if he felt stubble against his face during the kiss? And who cares that her voice was deeper than his? Or that her features didn’t quite add up as female in his mind? She had to be a girl. She had to be.

The day had gotten more chill. Clouds filtered the blue above and the breeze from before was a bit stronger. There weren’t many people left in the courtyard.

A cop stood on either side of him, but he had no intention of running. The headache was back and his bed was calling, seductively.

Off in the distance, his dad stood next to the family van. His face said, “I’m not surprised by this, but it still shouldn’t have happened.” A far cry from the disgust and embarrassment Reese had been bracing for.

Once in earshot, one of his escorts spoke to Hal. “Make sure you take him straight home. Any more trouble and he’ll be spending the night in a cell.”

“Don’t you worry, officer. I’ll straighten this one out myself.” Hal delivered the line less like a stern father, and more like a child who was playing the role of a stern father.

“Yeah. Sure…” The tall men turned and walked in the direction of their cruiser. His dad waved after them, holding the motion for longer than necessary.

A few seconds passed before either said anything.

“Okay, get in the car, Reese. Before they change their mind.” He scurried into his seat and shut the door.

Reese followed, not in any rush. The passenger seat was too far forward, but he didn’t bother fixing it.

“What on earth were you thinking? If you’re going to fight someone, you do it in the bathroom where none of the teachers can see. We’ve been over this.” A huff.

“I have no idea why that kid let you off the hook, but don’t think for a second your mother will go easy on you just because we don’t have to bail you out of jail this time.”

The engine flickered to life after a few attempts.

“Sorry, dad. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I don’t want to hear it. You-“ Hal stopped and looked out through the windshield. Reese quickly did the same.

Two people stood at a classroom window, looking back at them. One was the blonde he had beaten down, looking decidedly un-female. He held a tissue beneath his nose, shooting a murderous glare in his direction.

The other was the redhead from his history class. Reese’s face warmed. His ears rang. She was making a kissy face at him.

Crap.

An elbow pulled him back into reality. It nudged at his left arm. “Well, aren’t you popular?” Hal turned and gave him a sly grin.

The van pulled out. “Wave goodbye, now. You won’t be seeing her for a while, I can tell you that much.”

The short ride home was filled by the sound of his dad’s ranting. Something about a neighbor who was playing loud music all night. His son’s crimes were seemingly gone from his mind already.

The only thing on Reese's was the kiss.

Why did he do that?! His already terrible reputation was about to plummet even further.

Man. No girl will be caught dead with me after that stunt.

The van creaked into the familiar driveway beside their derelict house. It shuddered to a stop just beyond the gates. Hal cut the engine.

“And the jerk wouldn’t even take requests. Can you believe that?” He glanced over at his son, expression full of pity. “Good luck in there. If your mother asks, I am very upset with you.”

Not waiting for a reply, the older man left the car and retreated into the garage.

Reese was no longer lost in thought. It was just his luck that this happened on his mom’s day off. This punishment was going to suck.

Maybe, if he didn’t enter the house, it would blow over by dinner.

“Reese! You get your sorry butt in this house, right now!” His mother’s manic screech carried clearly.

He rubbed his thumb into his right temple. There’s that headache again. Stronger than ever.

Outside his door, he caught sight of his old, old bike. He was quite skilled at riding them, but had a tendency of leaving them unusable through his various, crazy stunts. This one was bent out of shape in several places, but he couldn’t remember how it ended up that way.

“Reese!” The glass doors that lead into the living room were flung open. Lois, the overbearing dictator of the family, charged through them and into the driveway. She locked onto him like a bloodthirsty shark. “Three weeks? THREE WEEKS?!”

The teen blinked. His mother was now next to the van. As though by teleportation.

“Get out here right now! Don’t make me drag you by your ear.”

Those words caused a memory to flash before his eyes.

“Reese! Get in here right now! Don’t make me drag you by your ear.”

Reese sat on the living room couch. He was a foot shorter than nowadays, with thin arms, and sporting frosted tips. His voice was higher with a slightly scratchy sound to it. “Okay, mom. No need to bite my head off.”

As he moved to turn off the TV, the movie he was watching came back from commercial break. He had already missed half of it, but the police sirens caught his attention.

On-screen, a handsome teen had his arms out in front of him, attempting to calm some angry police officers. They were telling him to get on the ground.

Reese pulled his hand away from the remote.

“Let’s be reasonable. I didn’t know she was your daughter.” The grin on his face suggested otherwise.

“We’ll get this all sorted down at the station, brat.” The sheriff put his hand on his gun holster. He had a stiff mustache and his shirt struggled to stay tucked in around his massive gut.

“No problem. The station’s this way right?” As he turned to gesture, the athletic boy took off in a sprint. He vaulted over a wooden fence and into someone’s backyard. The sheriff called after him.

This set off a chase. Several armed cops followed in his footsteps, running through a family barbecue and knocking a woman into her pool.

After a few houses, the young man grabbed a little girl’s bicycle and pedaled it onto the street.

The sheriff was close behind him in his cruiser, bumper grazing his back tire a few times.

Reese leaned closer to the screen. His fingers gripped the couch cushions.

“Ryan! Pull over or I will open fire!” The angry father had a megaphone pointed out of his window.

“You want me to pull over? …Sure thing.” Ryan pulled the bike into a sharp turn. This lead him through the front lawn of a nearby house, and straight at a conveniently placed slide, which propelled him up into the air.

The wheels of the glittery pink bike skittered across dark, rectangular tiles. He had landed on a rooftop.

“Holy crap.” Reese had stars in his eyes. His mouth hung open slightly.

Ryan laughed out loud as he jumped from roof to roof, dodging chimneys and satellite dishes with sick bike tricks. After a few houses, the row came to an end. The last one was next to a steep downhill slope.

He had reached the final rooftop. There was nowhere left to go.

Reese took in a sharp breath.

Time slowed. Both in the movie and in the living room.

Ryan threw the bike into a 180, sweat trickling down his neck. Suddenly, he was riding the bike in reverse. The back wheel speeding toward the drop. His back was to the edge, so he couldn’t see it coming.

Reese wished his heart could pound a bit quieter so that he could hear the movie better.

That’s when Ryan smirked. A confident smile that made Reese do the same.

The movie star gripped the handlebars tightly and then yanked them into the air. The motion sent the front wheel into a perfect arc. Time became even slower as bullets flew by, missing him by mere inches.

And then, back at full speed, he flew into a series of tight backflips. Swish swish swish.

Reese’s emerald eyes were full of tears. Tears of pure exhilaration.

Just as Ryan was about to land, everything went dark. The TV was off.

The young boy’s head shot to the table in front of him, only to find that the remote was gone. It was instead floating over his head, being pointed at the dusty screen by thin fingers.

Lois looked down at him. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

That dinner was filled with thoughts of awesome stunts and Ryan.

Afterward, he desperately searched the TV guide and flipped through every channel. But there was no sign of it anywhere. Something told him he’d never find it again.

The next day, Reese ran home from school, hoping to get there before anyone else. A thought had occurred to him during his last class.

See, his parents always said that if he didn’t clean up his act he would end up becoming a problem for the state. That’s to say, he would end up in prison. He, on the other hand, wasn’t fully convinced.

After all, if it came down to it, he could probably avoid being arrested.

It would be as simple as getting a new identity, using one of those masks that completely change your face and voice like in the spy movies. Or he could steal a car and go on the run with a supermodel. And, if worse came to worst, he could resort to stealing a bike like in that elusive film.

This meant he needed to practice his rooftop biking skills…

The ladder shook as he gripped the top rung. His bicycle, which he carried under his other arm, was only a few months old at the time, but it already had a flat tire and malfunctioning brakes. Not that that would stop him from nailing the landing.

Their roof was covered with toys that had been launched up there and forgotten about, as well as dry tree branches and a dead squirrel near the chimney. He would have to check that out later.

He was in position at the highest point, facing the driveway, when a shout rang out.

“REESE! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW! I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU'RE TRYING THAT STUPID STUNT FROM THAT STUPID MOVIE… YOU’RE GOING TO BREAK YOUR NECK!” Great. His mom had arrived.

His eyebrows furled with indignation, a frown replacing his excited grin. “It’s not a stupid movie! It’s a work of art and my ticket out of getting arrested. I’m gonna do an awesome flip and then you’ll feel real stupid for doubting me. They’ll probably write about me in the history books! I mean, I won’t be reading them because history is boring, but all of the krelboynes who do will be super jealous.”

“HAL! GET UP THERE AND STOP YOUR IDIOT OF A SON FROM KILLING HIMSELF!”

Reese couldn’t see her face from up there, but the bulging of veins could be heard clearly through her voice.

“Now, honey… Let’s just be reasonable for a second,” Hal’s voice was shaking, “Our boy might be onto something.”

He silently thanked his father’s intense fear of heights.

Back to business. The wheels squeaked as he lurched forward.

He already had his feet on the pedals when something changed his mind. The sound of shoes grinding against shingles was followed by several deep breaths.

“What am I thinking? I can’t do this. I’ll never make it.” Reese shook his head in disbelief.

His hands flew off the handlebars and up to his neck, undoing the clasp of his helmet, which he removed and threw to the side.

“Not with all that extra weight, I won’t. Good thing I’m so cautious. I could have seriously injured myself.”

With that, he rolled the bike backward and prepared for a second attempt. Then, he began to pedal furiously.

Chapter Text

Reese soared toward the drop-off, wind blasting his hair into a shapeless mess. It took all his strength to force those handlebars into a spin, a strong shift in balance causing the bike to flail toward the right. Suddenly, all the houses before him were upside down.

His body had left the bicycle seat and taken to the air. The shiny metal frame launched into the dead grass of the front yard, seemingly hundreds of feet below. His eyes clenched shut, body curling inward as he braced for his own upcoming impact. An embarrassing shout tore out of his throat.

But the blow never came.

His lungs refused to take a breath as his vision twitched around, taking in the surroundings. The world was still on its head, but it had come to a full stop. Gritty roof tiles dug into his lower back. Blood rushed to his head, forced forward by his spasming heart.

Something was gripping the front of his shirt, keeping the startled boy from tipping over the edge. His mother’s hand.

He gulped.

---

The squeak of the van door flinging open broke his flashback. It was followed by a pack of rabid fingers biting the front of his shirt and dragging him out of the car. His mother’s other hand gripped his ear and pulled it toward their vine-covered, single-story house. He had little choice but to follow after it while a lame string of “ow ow ows” left his mouth.

At that moment, he felt a lot like his old class hamster. The way it was torn from its hiding spot by a snake he had brought in for show-and-tell, thrashing about in a desperate attempt to avoid being eaten.

That hamster was lucky. All it had to deal with was a lousy snake. Reese was in the jaws of a much scarier animal.

Lois and her idiot son stepped through the living room and its random piles of magazines, toys, and abandoned socks. It was surprisingly neat, at least when compared to the way the four boys of the family usually kept it. Clearly, she had been in the middle of a cleaning session before Reese got there.

“Sit!” She helpfully shoved him into one of the chairs that surrounded the kitchen table, the sudden weight almost causing it to fall over. A violent, upward huff flicked her bangs out of her eyes while she placed her hands on her hips. “What in the world is wrong with you, Reese? A fight?! You just got back from your last suspension!”

Despite being taller and stronger than her, Reese still stiffened any time she leaned closer.

“How do you expect to graduate at the end of the year when you’re not even in class half the time?” Lois was pacing from side to side as if physically looking for the answer.

“Mom, it’s not my fault! I was just minding my business when he came up to me, looking for trouble.”

“And I suppose Bobby Kim was also just ‘looking for trouble’ when you broke his arm with that bowling ball? Or how about Mrs. Porter when you keyed the word ‘saggy’ into her car door? Little Mikey and his turtle?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, no one ever found that turtle! As far as I’m concerned I’m still clean on that one.”

“You never take any responsibility for the stupid things you do. Well, don’t you think for even a second that you’ll spend your suspension lying around. You’ll be cleaning every inch of this house from sun up to sun down.

Reese rolled his eyes. She must have been going senile if she thought that tired, old punishment would faze him.

It didn’t go unnoticed by his mother. “Oh, you think I’m stopping there? That’s cute. TV, video games, phone, and anything else that might bring you even the slightest bit of entertainment are banned. And when you aren’t slaving away at your chores you’ll be making up every assignment from every class you miss.”

The teenager returned her glare, challengingly. He was already forcing his younger brother, Dewey, to do all of his schoolwork for him. “No problem.”

Her nostrils flared In response. “And not a single item of food will be prepared by your hands during these three weeks. Or your feet, or mouth, or any other part of your body.”

As strange as it seemed to withhold that task from a teenage boy (a group known to rarely, if ever, prepare their own meals), it made sense to disallow her short-tempered son from cooking. He had taken an interest in the culinary arts at an early age and found great pleasure in creating his self-proclaimed masterpieces. Not to say that his work wasn’t worthy of being labeled as such.

“In fact, you’re not allowed to so much as approach the kitchen. Not even for a simple sandwich. If you’re hungry, you’ll have to wait until a meal is served. And if you’re not satisfied with your portion, you’ll just have to imagine what it feels like getting seconds, because you’re not getting more.”

Reese shrugged. It hurt a little, but, being honest, his inspiration for cooking had been low lately. He would muddle through. Plus, his mom would never think to take the half-eaten cookie and loose Raisinets from under his bed. Well, he was pretty sure they were Raisinets.

“Are you done yet? I’m itching to get started on those dishes.” Reese gave a shit-eating grin, the way only he could.

Lois sighed, taking a seat herself. The will to fight was pouring out of her, leaving behind a deflated shell of a human. “Don’t you ever feel bad about hurting people? I know you think empathy is stupid, but come on. What did that poor boy even do to you?”

The Image of that boy looking up at him from the floor, shoulders trembling and tears streaming, came creeping back. He looked pathetic down there, his chin dripping with blood.

Usually, thinking about one of his victims in such a vulnerable state brought him immense joy. It was the same feeling he got while admiring his freshly-baked pies. Yet, this time was different. Something was making his stomach jittery. Making his fingers tingle.

His smile faltered. Just the slightest twitch. But that tiny flash of sincerity was enough to make Lois’s eyes blast open.

“What’s with that look?” Her voice was gentle.

Reese shook his head. His armpits were getting wetter under his shirt. “What look?”

“I just thought you looked a little… ashamed. Could it be that you’re feeling, oh I don’t know, remorse for your actions?”

“Of course not. He deserved it.” At the time, when he was letting the guy have it, he fully believed that. But now, thinking back, he wasn’t so sure. And his mother, trained by years of lies from all of her children, could hear the hesitation that coated his words.

Perhaps there was a hole in his unbothered persona. She threw herself at the opportunity like a school of piranhas to a steak.

“I have one last punishment for you.”

---

She had refused to let him know what the final sanction would be. Something told him it was going to be worse than any of her previous handiwork.

All Reese knew was, when his mother said he wasn’t allowed near the kitchen, she meant it. After that night’s dinner (Nutraloaf), his brothers were forced to move the dirty dishes into the bathroom. He would be washing them in the tub.

Refusing to let her enjoy his suffering, not a single complaint left his mouth. Instead, he did his best to shut his brain off and mindlessly finish the task in front of him. However, something kept switching it back on.

No, It wasn’t his family going about their nightly showers as if he weren’t standing in the same room. Or the fact that he could see every detail out of the corner of his eye. It was the sticky warmth of a stranger’s bloody lips against his own. A stranger with a dick and no boobs.

What on earth had possessed him to do that? He wasn’t gay. He loved women. And he had never kissed a dude before. Unless you counted that man who had given him violent (and unnecessary) CPR at the waterpark years ago. But he didn’t.

And why hadn’t anyone mentioned the kiss yet? His brothers should have been calling him a homo all day, but, so far, their insults were no different than usual. And when his mother was scolding him earlier, she didn’t tell him that kissing someone without their consent is “disgusting” and “immoral.”

It appeared that, by some miracle, the news hadn’t reached any of them. And that made his jaw twitch, because he had never, ever been that lucky.

After finishing up, he told Malcolm and Dewey that they could move the dishes back into the kitchen, getting groans in return. At least he wasn’t alone in his suffering.

---

Reese was falling apart like a pair of his old boxers after his mother woke him at six in the morning to begin his daily chores. And speaking of ratty undergarments, he was down to his last, clean pair. A stretched-out set that was starting to look more grey than blue.

Grey like the clouds that hid the morning sky. Grey like his attitude while loading the washer with his father’s clothes. Not that he knew how to operate the thing. He was just expected to fill it up.

The day passed by in this fashion. Another task. Another scowl. Another dead bug placed into his mother’s sock drawer.

He was busy tearing weeds out of the backyard when the first raindrops started falling. Cold splashes of water slapped against his face when he looked up. The sound of the gate opening drew his gaze back to the ground.

Malcolm, now back from school, adjusted his backpack and started walking toward the side door when he spotted Reese. Their eyes met only for a split second before they both found more interesting things to stare at.

“Hey. I didn’t know you were back here.” The younger brother shifted his weight, looking like he had been caught sneaking out. Or, more accurately, sneaking in.

“Yeah. Pulling weeds. Did I miss anything at school?” Reese made sure to keep his voice neutral to avoid suspicion. Maybe Malcolm hadn’t heard anything. Maybe he had been too busy discussing multiplication with his nerd friends.

“Oh. You know. Same as always.” A promising answer, but his tone of voice seemed slightly unsettled. Or was that just his imagination?

“Cool.” There wasn’t much more to say. He would have to investigate further.

By the time his parents got home, the entire house had been vacuumed. Twice.

His mother had brought in bags of groceries and set them on the counter without saying a word. He watched closely as she got out of her work uniform and began to make dinner.

Everything seemed normal.

“Oh my! These potato chips are so good. I know I should be careful not to drop them all over the carpet as I eat, but, for some reason, I just can’t be bothered.” The second youngest Wilkerson brother, Dewey, was splayed out on the couch in his underwear. He was grabbing handfuls of crushed chips and tossing them in the direction of his open mouth, letting most of them drop to the floor.

Reese shot his hands up. “Hey! What’s the big idea, buttmunch? I just vacuumed there. Quit it! Or next, I’ll be cleaning your blood out of the carpet!”

The large-eared boy glanced lazily in his direction. “Ooh. I’m soooo scared.”

“Dewey! Go get ready for dinner. And put on something nice. I won’t have you boys embarrassing me in front of our guest.” Lois was chopping carrots. A pot of something boiled on the stove. Reese noted her improper technique and messy slices, itching to take over.

Dewey perked up. “What guest?”

“I invited the kid that your brother assaulted over for dinner. His name’s Tony.” She said it without much fanfare.

Reese turned to her. “You what?! Why would you do that?!”

“For your apology. The one you’re giving him as your last punishment. I didn’t forget to mention that, did I? My bad.” Her focus was still solely on cooking.

“No! You can’t bring him here!” If Tony found out his family was unaware of their kiss, he’d be only too happy to let them know about it. “Can’t I just write him an apology letter?”

Lois scoffed. “Of course not. Apologizing is something you do in person. Besides, Mr. Moreci thinks his son deserves at least this much after what you put him through.”

“No, he doesn’t! He brought that on himself. You’re being totally unfair!”

“That’s enough whining, Reese. I’ve got a dinner to prepare. This is happening. End of story.”

Reese knew better than to argue any further. He would have to find another way to stop this.

The kitchen table and its many chairs sat on top of a large oval-shaped rug. It was freshly cleaned (by him) and ready for tonight. Unless…

He grabbed at his mouth and stomach. A dry heave rocked his body and made him bend forward suddenly. “Oh no.” Another heave. “I think I’m gonna be sick, mom.”

Lois continued to stir the pot in front of her. “Well, isn’t that convenient? Remind me: When was the last time this act actually worked for you? First grade?”

“I’m serious. It-,” he put more effort into this one, causing a hint of his breakfast to race back up, “it’s coming out. Maybe we should have this dinner on another day.” He had been saving this trick for a special occasion.

“No.”

“I-“

“No!”

She left him no choice. The muscles of his abdomen contracted sharply, his throat burned with bile. 3…2…1.

The force of it caused his eyes to shut. A thin sweat formed on his forehead as projectile vomit coated the colorful pattern. The sound was a lot wetter than expected. More of a splash than a splatter.

Now thoroughly empty, he took a few seconds to catch his breath before re-opening his eyes.

Except the rug remained spotless. As did the table. His eyebrows furrowed.

“That was close.” His mother’s voice made him glance forward. At the boiling pot in her hands. “You almost made a mess. It’s a shame about the soup, though.”

Everything went silent as she pinned him in place with her dangerous glare. They were the only ones currently in this part of the house.

Reese’s stomach may have been void, but he could feel it dropping like it was suddenly full of bricks. “Yeah… I guess better go lie down…” He chuckled, weakly.

“Better idea. You grab the vacuum, clean up the mess your brother left by the couch, and start practicing your apology. Unless you feel like eating nothing but this,” She set the unholy stew down on the nearby counter, “for the next week.”

The room quickly filled with harsh, mechanical sucking.

---

His nicest jeans had been paired with a lame button-front shirt. One his mother picked out and forced him to wear. As a, frankly sad, sign of resistance, the top two buttons were undone and the sleeves were rolled up past his forearms.

A set of clean teeth shone back at him in the mirror. The result of several brushings. All of them meant to get the taste of that failed attempt out of his mouth.

His skin, which normally sported a bump here or there, was as clear as it had ever been.

And, despite being against the dinner, he even styled his hair with a fancy gel that smelt of coconut.

But he had no intention of apologizing. He refused to give that blonde punk the satisfaction. Somehow, someway, he would make this entire thing fail.

The expressions that circled the dinner table were a strange mix of boredom, excitement, and concern. Everyone was dressed more nicely than you might expect for a typical dinner, but not enough to mistake them for upper class. No, not even close.

The table had been set with the nicest (that’s to say, not broken) dishes they owned. At the center of it all was a beef rib roast and various sautéed vegetables. Far from a masterwork, Reese could tell it had been overcooked and underseasoned with a simple whiff. It was still leagues above what they were normally fed.

Lois walked around the table, serving leafy salad from a large bowl. “And if either of you feels the need to act out during dinner, just remember that I can cut the power to your bedroom with the flip of a switch. The same bedroom that you will be confined to every moment that you are not at school. Understood?”

There were several unenthusiastic nods passed around.

“Reese! Quit messing with your hair and get out here!”

“I’m already here! Get off my back!” The agitated teen took a seat at the table, chair scraping.

His mother paused as she noticed him for the first time. Her eyes danced over him. “Took you long enough. I had almost forgotten how good you look all cleaned up.”

Reese huffed in response just as the doorbell rang. His head shot in its direction then down to his watch. Seven on the dot. Figures that loser would be the type to show up on time.

Lois set down the salad and walked over to her delinquent son. “Come and greet your guest at the door.”

“What! Why do I have to invite him in? This whole thing was your idea.” His eyebrows pushed together, mouth setting into a scowl.

“Because you’re the one who almost broke his nose. And because he’s not sending us the medical bill. Now, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. Up.”

Reese turned to Hal, who was busy tucking a napkin into his shirt collar. “Dad! Can’t you tell her she’s acting completely insane? If she wants to throw a lame dinner and pretend this family isn’t crazy to impress a total stranger, that’s her problem.”

The unenthusiastic father lifted a spoon to his face, checking his teeth for any debris. “Listen to your mother, Reese. You must have pummeled at least a hundred kids by now. Be grateful she isn’t making you apologize to every one of them.”

Before his son could complain any further, the chime of the doorbell once again cut through the house. Lois grabbed his ear and began tugging him toward the door.

“Ow! Ow! Stop!” Reese was still rubbing the side of his head when the front door swung open.

“Huh. So, you’re the guy who kissed me.”

Chapter Text

“Huh. So, you’re the guy who kissed me.”

Reese could feel every hair on his arms stand on end, his gut tightening. Dark eyebrows pressed into each other just above wide, green eyes. His throat was too dry to speak a single word.

Tony’s voice had been loud enough for all to hear. Everyone at the table turned to look through the window, too invested to continue peeking out of the corner of their eyes.

What Reese would have given to forget how to breathe in that very moment. Unfortunately, his lungs were still taking shallow, labored breaths.

This guy was totally going on to his enemies list.

His hands pulled into tight fists. Almost achingly so. This time he would make sure blondie couldn’t get another whisper out. Not from around his feeding tube, anyway.

All of this happened over a few seconds, at most. The world, which had slowed to a crawl around him, returned to full speed at the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Excuse me. He did what?” Her head tilted, as if adjusting her antenna to get a better signal.

Reese’s eyes ran laps back and forth between the tall boy and Lois.

Tony paid him an amused glance.

“Oh. Sorry. I bit my tongue when your son attacked me.” He stuck it out, displaying a clearly swollen, red portion. Looking a bit closer, you could see a bite mark which had since scabbed over. “What I meant to say was ‘you’re the guy who hit me.’”

Lois blinked in confusion. Reese did the same. “I don’t really see how a bruised tongue would-“

“Hey, something smells great! Don’t tell me you hired a professional chef just to impress me, Mrs. Wilkerson.” Tony raised an eyebrow at the older woman, charming grin on full display. His relaxed demeanor made it seem like he had been friends with her for a long time, even though they had only just met in-person.

She scoffed, eyes brighter than before. “Oh, stop. I just threw something together. I hope you can enjoy it with your tongue all messed up like that.” She shot Reese a disapproving look, but it was no different than her usual ones.

“Nonsense. If it tastes half as good as it smells then I should be just fine. Your husband better keep an eye out. A woman as talented and beautiful as you must be fighting off the men with a stick.”

Lois cackled. “Please. I retired my stick almost two decades ago. Come in, come in. Let me introduce you to the rest.” It was obvious from her warm expression that, despite her outward modesty, the compliments had buttered her up. She stepped aside and motioned for the boy to enter.

Tony strolled past his assailant with decided ease, their shoulders knocking together the slightest bit. The motion caused a wave of his cologne to drift against Reese’s nose. The same woody cinnamon and gritty sugar as before.

Reese hated how good it smelled. Hated that he was about to have dinner with that smug bastard. The stunt that guy pulled with his tongue was a warning. A challenge. Are you going to back down or man up?

He slammed the door shut, silencing the rain outside, and turned toward the kitchen. How was he going to make Tony pay? Lois was already on his side and he had the kiss as blackmail, so Reese had to be careful.

Crap.

“This is my husband Hal.” His mother was showing Tony off to the family like a new pair of heels.

“I’m really sorry about my son. You better believe I’ll be having a serious conversation with him about this behavior.” His father said, voice overly-serious. The same voice he used when talking to the principal about Reese’s previous stunts. That was a lie worthy of an eye roll.

“Don’t worry about it. I bet he’s just going through a hard time right now.” Tony shrugged.

Reese’s ears locked onto that statement. What are you implying, asshole?

“That miserable-looking one is Malcolm. You’ve probably seen him whining about something around the school.” Lois’s pointed tone made it clear that she expected him to keep this night whine-free.

Malcolm gave the blonde an inspecting glance before tossing it over to Reese and then back again. “Hey.”

“And I’m Dewey.” The short kid crossed his arms from his seat, looking up in disapproval. “For the record, I’ve been beat up by Reese thousands of times, and I’ve never gotten a fancy party.”

Tony gave a slight shake of his head. “That’s rough, dude. We can share it, if you want. It’s the only fair thing to do.”

This pulled a smile from the young boy. “Deal.”

By that point, everyone had found their seat at the table. Lois and Hal on either end, Tony beside Dewey on one side, and Malcolm on the other, leaving the chair to his left unclaimed. This was no different than their everyday arrangement, except that Tony sat in what was, at some point in time, Francis’s seat.

Which meant Reese and Tony would sit directly across from each other.

Oh yeah! And Jamie, the baby brother, smiled from his high chair beside Lois. He would be enjoying his own meal from a jar.

“Sit down, Reese. I’m sure we’re all very hungry.” His father beckoned.

With a huff, the teen stomped his socked feet around to his plate.

“Yeah, Reese. Join us.” Tony followed him with his eyes. “Me and Dewey can’t wait to enjoy our special meal.” The two boys sitting next to each other, grinned at him in unison. They were in cahoots now, too. Reese would make them both suffer.

Hands grabbed ahold of silverware and began to dissect the meals in front of them. They had silently agreed to forego saying grace. Not that it was a habit for the Wilkersons, but Tony didn’t know that.

A few seconds of devouring sounds passed by before Lois spoke up around a mouthful of roast. “So, Tony. How about you tell us a bit about yourself?”

Tony chewed a bit more slowly, eyes passing around the table. “Well, I’m not sure there’s much to say. I’m in the year below Reese, although I should be in the same one. I got held back for missing half of freshman year. Guess you could say I’m not known for making the smartest choices.”

Reese could see his mom’s opinion of Tony dropping in real time. Maybe there was a way to get her back on his side.

“But now I’m back on track. Both figuratively and literally. I’m part of the North High track team. Plus-“

“Too bad you can’t run away from your bad decisions, huh? Being held back a whole year? Boy, you must be more of an idiot than me.” Reese grinned sadistically. All sounds of eating ceased as everyone turned to face him. He ignored their glances in order to stare at the boy sitting across from him.

Tony’s mouth hung agape. For the first time since showing up, his expression was anything but happy. “Um. Well…”

“Um, well, uh!” Reese’s head rocked from side to side, lips pouted in a mocking expression. “Maybe if you had stayed in school, you would know how to use your words, genius.”

His mother had taken on a dumbfounded appearance, face tinged in dark red. “Reese! What is wrong with you! Go to your room-“

“No, Mrs. Wilkerson. It’s fine. Really.” Tony held his hands up in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “He has a point. I did make a mistake cutting class like that.”

“No! That is no way to talk to a guest! Especially when they’ve been invited over for an apology.” She was maybe a few seconds from bursting into flames.

“I wouldn’t have brought it up if I wasn’t comfortable talking about it.” Lois was about to object further, but Tony carried on. “But, there was a reason for my terrible attendance. I did it to keep my dad from doing something stupid.”

All eyes were on the guest now. Reese was tempted to joke about how bad decisions might be genetic, in that case, but froze at the sight of both of his parents’ livid expressions. Also he couldn’t remember the word “genetic.”

“It was the beginning of freshman year. My parents had been having a rough patch after a decade of marriage. I didn’t think much of it, because arguing was kind of their thing,” he pushed a slice of potato around his plate, “and I was used to it. However, being the self-involved teenager that I was, I felt that, being my first year of high school and all, I needed to butt in and let them know some things.”

Tony placed his fork down. “I, uh, told my parents something that I probably should have kept to myself. It didn’t go over very well. My mother left that same day. My dad… he… he was heartbroken. He begged her to stay, like I had never seen him beg before, but she wouldn’t listen to a word he said.”

The blonde looked down at his hands. “He spent the week after that locked in his room. I just went to school, hoping that by some miracle he would be back to normal when I got back. I imagined my mother would come back and life would carry on.” A single laugh left his lips, but it was devoid of humor.

Malcolm looked uncomfortable. “Dude, you don’t owe this idiot an explanation. We’ll just keep eating after our mom sends him to his room.” His dark eyebrows knit together as he shot Reese a pointed look.

Great. Another person on his team.

“It’s okay, Malcolm. It feels good to talk about it after so long.” Tony shrugged. “Anyway. Life didn’t carry on… When my dad finally left his room, he looked horrible. I tried to lift his spirits back up, but when he looked at me, I could tell he blamed me for the break up. And, to be honest, I blamed myself, too. If I had just kept my mouth shut, maybe they could have worked it out.”

“No. It wasn’t your fault, Tony. I know I wasn’t there, but I do know a few things about marriage. And a marriage falls apart slowly over time. It doesn’t end just because your son says something stupid. Hell, if that were the case, me and Lois would have stood no chance together.” Hal gave him his best look of reassurance, an awkward pat on the shoulder completing the interaction.

“Yeah. You’re probably right. But that was years back. I came to terms with it a long time ago. Regardless, at the time, I still blamed myself. One day, I got home and I, uh, I…,” He cleared his throat, “My dad was in the bathtub. There was an empty bottle of sleeping pills in the water. I’m still surprised they were able to save him.”

Reese's gut tightened.

Tony’s voice had grown a bit shaky, but no one at the table had the nerve to cut him off. “I knew I had to do something, so I had him put in a psych ward by faking my mother’s signature. I didn’t feel like going into foster care, so I pretended that I was still living with her and unenrolled myself from school. Then, I got a job as an assistant for an air-conditioning repairman. After all, somebody needed to pay the bills.”

He wiped his eye. “Unfortunately, my dad was released pretty soon after that. He didn’t seem any better and soon he began to drink. Heavily. So, that’s what I did for a few months. I went to work, and came home to a mess, day after day. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting to find him dead at some point.”

Tony’s fingers clasped together. “Until, one day, we were hired to repair the central heating at a nearby rehab center. The woman that booked us hung around while we worked. Real talkative type. She asked why someone as young as me wasn’t at school on a weekday. And everything I had been holding in just came flooding out. Boy, I cried like a baby. And she did, too. If angels do exist, I met one that day. We arranged to have my dad put into the program, free of charge if you can believe it.”

Tony’s face had found it’s glow once more, white teeth on full display. “I continued working while my dad got the help he needed. Eventually, he got a new job and made me go back to school. But, by then, I wasn’t able to recover the school year. So, yeah. Pretty stupid of me, huh?”

Reese was speechless for the second time that evening. So was everyone else. Desperate for a distraction, he grabbed the salt shaker. He was about to season his food when a voice stopped him.

“Reese! I told you no cooking. Put that down.” Lois’ forehead vein was on full display

“What? Mom, it’s just salt!”

“Do I look like I’m joking.” Her voice was a dangerous half-whisper. It made his arm set the container down against his will.

“So, I think that counts as a bit about myself. Maybe more than a bit.” Tony giggled. “Anyone wanna take over?”

Reese could do nothing but stare at him and clench his jaw over a chunk of unsalted meat. How can anyone actually buy that sob story? Big deal, my parents suck too.

Tony challenged the gaze with one of his own, eating a bite of salad with almost too much joy in his eyes.

The dinner didn't last long after that. Hal quickly excused himself to take Jamie to the bathroom for potty training.

He was followed by Malcolm who had "like a ton of homework to do."

Dewey sat with a mostly empty plate, fingers interlocked on the tabletop. He leaned forward with a glint in his eye. "Can we move this along? I was promised dinner and an apology."

Reese shoved his own plate away. "Shut up! I'm not apologizing to you or anyone else, 'cause I haven't done anything wrong!"

The large-eared younger brother gasped. "Hear that mom? Sounds like Reese wants another month added to his punishment."

"Dewey. Go to your room. I have this handled." The older woman hadn't looked away from her delinquent son for several minutes.

Dewey looked betrayed. "But I wanted to-"

Lois's hand shot up. "Now. Unless you're looking for a punishment of your own." Her concentration never wavered.

After the clack of a fork being set down and a series of defeated footsteps, the table was now occupied by three. The air was still, like prey attempting to blend in with its surroundings. The only sound was rain and the thump thump thump of a neighbor blasting hip-hop music in the distance.

"So, I think it's pretty obvious that tonight has been a bit tense. Some things were said, and some looks were exchanged. With that in mind, I would like to be the first to extend an apology." Lois turned to look at Tony.

She took a breath and continued. "I'm sorry for the way my son has treated you so far, and I'm very sorry he forced you to air out your dirty laundry. It shouldn't have come to that, and I should have seen this coming. I'm sure this wasn't how you planned on spending your evening."

Her brown hair bobbled as she shifted to face the other. "That being said, I'm not sorry about giving you this ultimatum, Reese. You are far too grown to be behaving like a child. It's time for you to own up to your mistakes and make amends. I know you feel bad about what you did. The sooner you apologize, the sooner we can be done with this."

“No way! He earned every bruise he has. I was just minding my business when he came over to make fun of me for not having any friends.”

Tony frowned. “Hey, that’s not what happened.”

“Yeah, it is! You were laughing and everything. So forget it.” Reese stood up and looked at Lois. “Ground me, punish me, I don’t care. He doesn’t deserve an apology and I’m not going to give him one. Not unless he gives me one, first.”

With that, the angry teen left the table as well, stomping to his bedroom. It took all of his courage to ignore his mother yelling after him.

Surprisingly, she didn’t follow behind.

Chapter Text

The door slammed, knocking toys to the ground, and mashing the silence into a paste. His brothers acknowledged him with matching unease.

Reese threw them annoyance in return. “What?”

Their mother rambled silently in the kitchen. She was letting their guest know that operation “Sorry I Kicked Your Ass” had been a bust. Not that success was ever an option, knowing her son.

“I have to hand it to you, Reese. I really doubted you could make dinner that awkward. You’ll be lucky if she even lets you look at a spatula ever again.” Malcolm closed the statement by flinging his pencil into a textbook on his desk.

“Way to have my back out there, you two! Glad to know I can count on my family to take the side of a total stranger over mine.”

“Hey, you aren’t the one with the bruised face. Plus, it’s kind of hard to root for you when you’re always doing this sort of thing.”

“Yeah, you had this coming, Reese. You can only knock out so many teeth before karma bites back.” Dewey scowled. His fingers danced bitterly on his keyboard, but no sound left the device with its batteries dead.

Thunder made the world shake.

“Hey, I’m the victim in all of this! I had gone two whole days without hitting anyone until he came and screwed it all up. Do you know how close I was to breaking my record?” Reese's voice was whiny, the way it always got when he pleaded for someone to believe him.

Dewey rolled his eyes. “Poor you.”

The hallway door shot open, clipping against the bone of Reese’s ankle as it swung by.

“Well, I’ll be driving Tony home now.” Lois’ face was soft as she spoke. “When I get back, I expect you to-”

 “Yeah yeah, I know. I’ll start cleaning the fireplace.” Reese interjected, familiar with their routines. He refused to take a passive role in this discord.

His stride out of the room lasted an entire second, becoming a stumble with her next words. “I expect you to be in bed. Asleep. The same goes for you two.”

Reese's face twitched. Was she serious, or was this some sort of mind game?

He couldn’t see his brothers from outside the room, but heard their obedient shuffling as they assumed their usual sleeping arrangement.

Lois expected no further response. Instead, she brushed past him and pulled on a jacket, keys jangling.

A stack of dirty dishes adorned the dinner table, piled carefully by large, veiny hands. These same hands wiped themselves with a napkin before raking through soft hair. Tony turned to follow after Lois, but hesitated at the sight of Reese looming there.

Neither boy spoke. Instead, they sized each other up, shamelessly. Just two tigers, circling in a cage.

A deep redness dusted Tony's otherwise tan nose, like flour on a bread roll. It made that familiar upset start rising in Reese’s gut.

I really did do a number on him…

Denim-colored eyes searched his own. For what exactly, he didn't know.

Eventually, they flicked away, dissapointed. Or maybe disgusted.

"Are you coming, Tony?" His mother's voice prodded.

"Right behind you."

Both figures shuffled out into the downpour. Then, as if remembering something important, the taller one turned back around.

"See you later." Tony blew a kiss and shut the door.

It took all of Reese’s, admittedly little, self-control to not run after him, hammer in hand.

---

How hard could it be to live off the land?

This was the question that rolled around in Reese’s head as he shifted from side to side in between sweaty sheets.

He had long ago given up on making her proud, but if his mother found out about the kiss, it would destroy her (already poor) opinion of him.

Might even get him kicked out. And not just for a few days, like in the past.

She didn’t raid his room after dropping off the liar. Her footsteps pattered past, only slowing for a second to listen in, before continuing to her own bed.

Unlike the time he "forgot" to take the trash out after being reminded several times. Her screams were so loud back then that the supermodels he was dreaming about had to cover their ears. She then dragged him off the mattress by his feet to where the bag was waiting.

So, chances were she remained clueless this time.

Too soon, he was awoken by the vapors of old-man cologne. “Get up, son. It’s time for you to clean out the gutters.”

Which he did. Then, he scoured all the windows. And, by the time his brothers were coming home, every tile in the bathroom reflected his grimace right back at him. It was like standing inside of a discoball.

The, equally angry, growl of his stomach made him drop his sudsy toothbrush and stagger into the kitchen. He had a few minutes to sneak a bite before the warden arrived.

The taste of bologna had never been so satisfying. Made only better by the knowledge that he wasn't allowed to have it.

“You’re not supposed to be in there.”

Reese spasmed. A half-eaten slice flew from his grip.

Dewey held a dust-soaked teddy bear. His dark eyes considered his older brother, the way you might observe a rat in a cage.

“Oh. It’s just you.” A sigh. Then, a glare. “Butt out, if you know what’s good for you.”

The taller of the two made a grab at the floor meat before being interrupted once more.

“You know, I’d speak to me with a little more respect if I were you. Mom would be only too happy to hear about this.” Dewey smiled cruelly.

Reese scoffed. Then he closed the distance between them. A crouch set the two at eye-level. “Did you know that it takes the same amount of force to bite through a baby carrot as a human finger? Malcolm told me that. Remind me: How many fingers do you need to play the piano?”

The young musician faltered, gulping audibly. His grip on the stuffed animal grew tighter. “I’m pretty sure that’s just a myth…”

With almost no effort, Reese yanked the smaller boy's hand up to his face. "I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Neither boy budged for a second. Then, without another word, Dewey slowly backed out of the room.

“Smart choice.”

Reese strolled back to the open fridge, collecting the linty snack from its resting place. While picking it clean, something on the lowest shelf caught his attention.

White metal, singed at the bottom. The pot’s dated floral print brought forth memories of yesterday’s upchuck.

His body tensed while prying its lid open. Surely enough, it still contained the forbidden recipe. Even if it just looked like normal soup. His mother was nothing if not a keeper of promises. Or rather threats, in this case.

Now it was Reese’s turn to slowly back out of the room, slipping the remaining bologna into his pocket for later.

---

Lois took her sweet time getting home that day, almost an hour behind her typical schedule. But when she finally did saunter into the sitting room, Reese couldn’t stop the smile that attacked his face. Or the sudden need to hug her.

If you'd think this was because he was worried about her, you'd be wrong. And stupid.

Malcolm came dashing in, nose first. The glee on his face was deranged. “What’s that smell?”

Their mother looked every bit as pleased as them. “Oh, come on. I know it’s been a while, but there’s no way you don’t recognize it.”

Dewey scrambled over, too. “No way! Is that Luigi’s pizza? I thought you said we would ‘never, ever, EVER eat from that thief den again’ as long as there was still air in your lungs. And maybe even after that.” Clearly, tattling was the last thing on his mind.

Lois shrugged lazily. “I guess I exaggerated a tiny bit.”

Their father was the last to cartwheel into the room, hugging little Jaime to his chest. The bounce in his step was matched only by his ecstatic giggling. “Did someone mention Luigi’s? Please tell me I’m not crazy. They actually gave you a refund? It’s not April Fools Day, is it?” His face was an ink blot, shifting from excitement to concern to confusion.

“Yes, Hal, I got Luigi’s. And no, they still haven’t given me a refund. I just felt like doing something nice for my family.”

Putting aside any out-of-character actions, the word “nice” didn’t do this thing justice. If you asked Reese, he would tell you that it’s not something you eat. It’s more like inviting the pizza into your mouth and letting it have sex with your tongue while you watched. And boy was his tongue horny.

Holy crap! This is happening… and no one had to die to make it happen. There really is a pizza god!

“But it’s mostly for the benefit of our guest.” ...And there came the other shoe. Falling directly on to Reese's head.

As if waiting for his cue, a familiar, busted face peeked through the doorway, carrying the boxes that had been smelt but not seen. "How ya doin'?"

Tony. Tony.

The two halves of Reese’s brain were fighting. A fists swinging, teeth flying type of battle.

Which would win? The side desperate to eat or the side begging to kick ass?

“Can you believe he’s never had any?” Lois continued, unaware of his internal conflict.

Hal gasped. “He’s never had Luigi’s? Well, we need to change that right away. Come, Tony. Set those on the table and grab a seat.”

The crowd flowed into the kitchen. Several conversations filled the house.

Dewey's appearance called out to his mother. A red shirt, now grey with dirt. Dark smears of oil in a pattern across his sleeves. The right knee of his jeans jagged, exposing the skin underneath.

Her smile didn't leave. “Dewey! You’re all filthy, you little rascal. How did that happen?” She spoke warmly, offering interest rather than judgment. A rare display indeed.

The food was doing its job.

“My bad. I was in the garage. Guess I got a bit careless... I’ll go change.” He lacked sarcasm. A bashful grin took over as he began walking the other way.

Lois waved at him, dismissively. “No, that’s okay, sweetie. You can do that after dinner. Just make sure to wash your hands before we eat.”

“Awesome! Thanks, mom.”

Whatever wise words Reese had needed to say got stuck in traffic. So what if his sworn nemesis was perched oh so casually on one of their chairs? The only thing that mattered now was cheese, bread, and a ton of toppings.

His dad flailed about, nearly coating his audience in tomato sauce. It was a story about getting cut off on the freeway and almost crashing, but told the way people recount holding their baby for the first time. His mother followed it up with a story about a customer breaking one of the shelves and how she was expected to fix it before going home. She, too, recounted the experience playfully, cracking a few jokes that got everyone laughing.

This was the Luigi's effect... Problems ignored and appreciation crafted from nothing.

It used to act as a monthly respite for them, counteracting the daily dysfunction. A reminder that they loved each other despite not saying it often.

And boy had it been dearly missed.

“So, Dewey. Why were you in the garage? Were you looking for something?” Tony’s words were enthusiastic. Perhaps a bit overdone if you asked Reese. He had half a mind to slap the pizza from his evil claws.

Dewey stopped, looking around with furrowed brows. It had been a long time since anyone displayed interest in his daily life. “Oh. Uh... Yeah. I was looking for some old toys.”

“Really? I didn’t take you for the type to still play with those.” Tony teased.

The younger boy scratched his neck and glanced down. “It’s not like that. I just need some new batteries for my keyboard. I used up my last ones.”

“No way! You know how to play? That’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to learn, but the lessons are so confusing.”

Hal intervened at this. “Not for Dewey. He learned all by himself. And you should see the boy play! He’s a regular Beethoven. No idea where he gets it." He shook his head, absentmindedly. "In fact, I bet he could teach you.”

Reese and Tony perked up in unison.

Then, along came a grin. That fucking grin. “Really? That sounds great. How much do you charge?”

“Well, I-”

“NO! That is not happening! You’re not coming over for lessons. It’s bad enough I’ve had to deal with you three days in a row!” Reese pointed, wanting to make sure there was no misunderstanding.

Everyone turned to him.

Lois was ready to cut in, but Hal beat her to the punch. "Sit down, son. This really doesn't concern you."

"But-!"

"Reese. You should put your mouth to better use and start eating. Need I remind you we haven't had Luigi's in a long, long time?" His head nodded ever so slightly in Lois' direction, eyes glaring. "We shouldn't let this opportunity slip by..."

"But-!"

This time, Hal stood up and ushered him into the hallway, making sure they were out of earshot with a cautious glance backward.

"Look, Reese. I don't know why you're so angry with that boy, and I don't really need the details, but listen and listen well. By some miracle straight from heaven, your mother has lifted her ban on Luigi's. And your little outbursts are no doubt going to make her reconsider that decision."

His father leaned forward, face muscles becoming stiff. Warm air hissed out with his next words. "I would sooner rip out all of my molars then lose this again. You are going to apologize."

"But-!"

His mouth was gently smothered shut. "Apologize."

Then, he was alone in the hall.

And what choice did he really have? Everyone believed he should. Nothing good would come of refusing to. He had to tear off that tick once and for all.

The chair was cold metal under his ass as he rejoined them.

Apologize.

Long, golden hair hung at the top of his vision. Out of focus.

Apologize.

He just needed to look up and say the words. The words that were making his lungs tense up. The words he felt, no, knew he should be the one receiving.

Just apologize!

But nothing was happening. No matter how long he waited. And the pizza was quickly disappearing.

This would go a lot better on a full stomach...

He let out a deep breath before reaching toward the box. And there it was, an inch from his fingertips.

"Just say you're sorry, Reese. I've pretty much forgiven you already."

..........What?

Forgetting about his nerves, Reese scanned the enemy. Had he heard that correctly? Or was his starving brain playing tricks on him?

"Did you say something?"

"I said you should man up and apologize." Tony replied, voice perfectly even. He carefully set his slice down.

The creak of grinding teeth shook Reese's skull. The air around his face was that of an oven, drying out his laugh.

"Man up? What's that supposed to mean? Are you trying to say I'm not a man or something?"

"To be fair, I haven't seen you act like one yet."

Both boys slowly rose from their seats, leaning across the table. "Look, pal. You better back off real fast! Or else."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Or else what?! You gonna ki-"

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Reese was mid-punch as he turned to face his mother. Her voice was barely audible over the drum kit in his chest.

"I..." Tony stuttered as he remembered they weren't alone. He quietly sat back down.

Lois sighed, head shaking with disbelief. "It's clear you don't appreciate what I went through. The fact that I betrayed my principles to make this dinner special."

"I appreciate it, honey." Hal attempted, earning a silencing glare in return.

"This is your last chance, Reese. Your last chance. Apologize so we can enjoy our meal and be done with it. Otherwise..." she hesitates," otherwise, you're not having any of this pizza!"

Everyone gasped.

He had hated his mother many, many times in the past, but never this viscerally. A pair of horns was growing out of her forehead. Her pitchfork was impaling his heart. Whether he deserved it or not, he had been sent to pizza hell.

"You- you're evil!"

"I am your mother! And what kind of mother would I be if I let you get off scot-free? What kind of lesson would that teach you?”

It was a valid question, but Reese had already made up his mind, and this only cemented it further.

"What kind of mother refuses to believe her son? I just wanted to eat my lunch. I wasn't bothering anybody." There was an attempt to stop the shake in his voice. To keep from tearing up. And it was mostly successful. "If the real villain here feels like apologizing, I'll be in my room."

---

It was clear that nobody felt like apologizing.

Unlike the day prior, dinner didn't burn out after Reese exploded. Call it the Luigi’s effect, because everyone was back to laughing and chatting in no time. And, he couldn't be sure, but it sounded like they were playing boardgames at one point. Without him.

Who cares? Malcolm would win every round, anyway.

So, he spent the evening tossing his pillow into the air and punching it across the room as it fell. Waiting. Plotting. Listening.

He had to do something. Nobody made him cry and got away with it.

Getting close to bedtime, he heard an interaction that made him perk up.

"No need, Mrs. Wilkerson. It's not raining today, so I can just walk."

"Well, if you're sure. Tell your father I said 'hello.' Hal, can you start cleaning up while I use the bathroom?"

"Sure thing, honey.”

---

It had been too easy. Well, not that easy

See, with his mother on the toilet, he couldn't risk sneaking out of the windows. So, he tried the back door, but his father spotted him and asked him where he was going (while taking out the trash that Reese had forgotten to).

Just like that, any hope of following Tony and teaching him a lesson seemed lost. Except, something miraculous happened.

His brain worked. For once. And it gave him a decent idea.

"Mom told me to take something to Tony."

"Oh. Okay. What are you taking him?"

Reese quickly found a plausible option.

"This."

"Well, alright. Hurry back, son."

All in all, the situation wasn't ideal. Hal knew he was out. And he had to make it back before Lois left the bathroom, otherwise she would also know.

This left him with no time to break any limbs. But, thanks to his genius plan, he wouldn't need to.

Tony was down the street by the time he caught up to him.

"Wait!" Reese huffed. He jogged eagerly but carefully along the cracked asphalt, item held delicately. The sky had dimmed to a nightmarish violet.

Tony tensed, face hardening in displeasure at the sight of him. "I'm assuming you didn't come to say you're sorry."

"Wow. You're not stupid as you look."

Denim eyes rolled in annoyance. "Funny." Then, they dropped to look at what Reese held in his hands. "What's that for?"

"This is for you. And your dad. My mom felt bad he hadn't been included in our awesome dinners."

"Really?"

"Yup. Just return it when you're done."

Tony grabbed ahold of the dull, metal pot. Its contents sloshed about within the floral facade.

"Thanks."

Chapter Text

Reese sank deep into his mattress that night. His body hugged by mostly-clean bedding and mischievous giggles.

The vomit soup had been a stroke of genius. He fought off the slightest urge to thank his mother. After all, it was her creation that gave him the opening.

So far, he’d skated by without having his secret revealed. And the longer it stayed that way, the stronger his plausible deniability grew. Soon, he’d be able to play it off as a baseless accusation. One stirred to life by previous animosity.

Nothing could spoil his triumphant buzz. Not his brothers’ snores, nor his feet peeking out from the edges of a too-small blanket, or even a knock on the window.

Wait.

Reese flung himself into a sitting position. That was definitely the cling clang of knuckles against glass. Nobody else stirred at the sound.

The glowing numbers on the alarm clock shone too fuzzy to discern. The pitch-black silence spoke of a world post-midnight.

Another knock. This one louder. More determined.

He snuck off his bed and over to a baseball bat on the floor. It’s heft and solidity armed him with more than a weapon.

The tightness in his guts grew as he approached the curtains. A deep breath.

He threw them open.

A figure stood outside. “Open the window.”

Reese froze. “Tony?”

“Are you deaf? The window. Now.” The blonde made no attempt to keep quiet.

Dropping the bat, Reese complied. No sooner was the frame open than the taller boy stepped through it.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Tony grabbed a fistful of Reese’s shirt. “Better question, what the hell did you put in that stew?”

“What do you mean?” Reese swallowed. “I didn’t cook that. My mom did.” Technically, not a lie.

Dark blue eyes narrowed at him. “So she’s the reason my dad’s in the hospital?”

Green eyes shot open in response. “What? But how? Vomit is edible.”

They both twitched.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Did you vomit in the stew!?”

A hand clasped around Reese’s throat. He yelped.

“N-no I- I didn’t! I swear!”

Tony growled. “God! You’re even more disgusting than I thought. No wonder you have no friends.”

A strangled croak came in response.

“Now I see why you had to steal a kiss from me. Because only someone with major brain damage would willingly come near a faggot like you.”

The hallway door slammed open.

“Rise and shine!” Called his mother. A stack of paper teetered in her arms.

Morning light marched through the firmly-shut window. A bedsheet clung to Reese’s bare torso, glued in place by a cold sweat. His eyes spasmed around the room.

“Good news. You don’t have to clean anything today.” She gave a vicious smile. “So, here’s some schoolwork to help fill your schedule.”

The pile was dropped unceremoniously on his lap, avalanching in all directions. Malcolm and Dewey groaned, shifting around in the corner of his vision.

He couldn’t find anything to say.

“I expect twenty pages done by the time I come home from work.” She heel turned. “Breakfast will be off the table in five minutes! Get a move on!”

And then she was gone.

Reese placed a hand to his throat. No soreness.

The baseball bat lay on his desk, buried under a pile of junk.

No sign of Tony anywhere.

A nightmare?

The teen sighed, heart still freaking out.

Maybe he hadn’t thought out his revenge as well as he should have.

Paper crumpled as he took his homework and flung it to the ground.

An itch called his nails to the knuckles on his punching hand. They grated, absentmindedly, at the scabs that formed there recently.

Reese grinned at the shambling figure he called a brother. “Good morning, Malcolm. How are you on this fine morning? Did you sleep well.”

A groggy scowl shot in his direction. “I’m not doing your homework, Reese.”

“Why not?” He whined. “I thought you had a huge nerd-boner for this kind of stuff.”

A yawn. “I’m busy with my project. Remember? The one you promised to help me with before you got all angsty?”

“You need to stop living in the past, Malcolm. That was, like, two days ago.”

“Get bent.”

---

It had been the easiest day of his punishment so far. Or, at least, it should have been.

With his parents at work, siblings at school, and Jamie with a babysitter (no way would they trust him to do it), Reese was home alone. He could do anything he wanted. If he was able to cover it up, that is.

Which left cooking off the table, as his mother inventoried every food item in the house. Phone was a no-go, because she would check the records (not that he had anyone to call).

Even sneaking out would be tricky.

See, although he ripped out the tracking devices in his dental fillings (after the voice told him about them), he sensed something was off. And when he pulled back the living room curtain, to check if the coast was clear, his suspicions were confirmed by someone across the street doing the same.

Mrs. Rendall. No doubt Lois hired her to keep an eye on him. And she would be eager to do so.

I only set your mailbox on fire one time, lady! Let it go!

So, he threw the curtain shut and stomped to the family room. Only to find the TV’s power cord was gone. Followed quickly by his sanity.

CRASH!

The list of vases he’d broken grew a little bigger that day.

“What now?” He asked the specks of dust in the air around him. Actually doing the homework was off the table. That could wait until Dewey got home to do it for him. But if he didn’t get some kind of entertainment soon, he’d be alone with his thoughts. And that had never ended well for anyone.

---

Maybe he should apologize? Just to get some breathing room from his mother. It seemed like an obvious solution, except he would have to give Tony the satisfaction. That bastard.

What gives him the right to show up in my dreams? Saying all that crap.

Reese smirked. There’s no way the stew could backfire. No way at all. And if that long-haired asshole tried to attack him for real, he’d make him cry again.

He wasn’t scared.

A knock rattled the front door. Reese froze. There’s no way…

A few seconds passed. The doorbell sang out like a siren.

According to his watch, the school should have been letting its prisoners free right about then. But if it were one of his brothers, they’d have let themselves in. Plus, the walk over takes 15 minutes. So who-

“I know you’re in there, Reese. I can see you through the window. Open the door.” Tony pressed his cheek against the glass, eyes squinted. He held the white pot to his chest.

“No! It’s not me! You’re just seeing wrong!” Reese insisted in a squeak. He scanned the room for potential hiding spots.

“I’m coming in.”

A click, followed by a sudden draft, then another click.

Reese grabbed a frying pan as Tony strolled into the kitchen. They stared each other down.

“Ooh. Someone’s getting in trouble.” The blonde boy sung, teasingly. If he was mad, he was skilled at hiding it.

Reese scanned the various objects in Tony’s arms. Aside from the now empty pot, he had a casserole dish and a plastic bag.

“What’s that?” Reese demanded, glaring at the ceramic dish.

“Cannelloni.”

“What’d you put in it?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Spinach and ricotta.”

“Yeah. I bet that’s what you want me to think.” Reese spat back.

“Uh huh…” Tony set the dish onto the kitchen table. “Are you feeling okay? You look kind of sweaty.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m stupid enough to eat that crap!”

Tony’s smile dropped. “As if I’d let you have any. My dad made it to thank your mom. Not to feed an ungrateful asshole.”

“Ungrateful?” Reese scowled. “What do I have to be grateful for?”

Tony scoffed. “The fact that I didn’t press charges?” Then, his dark eyes narrowed, defiantly. “Or how about the secret I’ve been keeping for you?”

The blood ran cold in Reese’s body. His jaw tensed. “…I don’t have any fucking secrets.”

“Right…”

Neither boy looked at the other. They stewed in the boiling silence.

Reese stormed off.

---

At his desk, Reese used a pencil to straighten out the folds of an Algebra II worksheet (the sequel was, somehow, worse than the original). None of the questions were cooperating with him. Several got up and ran away. A few shook so hard it was impossible to look at them. And one even burst into flames. Or maybe Reese had grabbed his matches without thinking.

Either way, no work was completed. Total waste of half an hour.

He dropped his head on the desk and sighed.

“This sucks.” A groan. “I suck.”

“At least you’re self-aware.”

“Very funny, Davey.” Reese deadpanned.

“Who’s Davey?”

Reese jumped to attention with a burning face. “What the hell are you still doing here?”

Tony was leaning against the doorway to his room, scanning him up and down. “Doing some homework, huh?” He tittered, ignoring the question. “Didn’t peg you as the type to.”

“Ooh. I’m stupid. Never heard that one before.” Reese plopped his face back down. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Wouldn’t want to see you cry again.”

“See me cry again?” Tony gave a stiff laugh.

“Yup. Like when you were on the floor, after I whooped your ass. Right before I ki-” A cough. “Right before Mr. Herkabe pulled me away.”

“I wasn’t crying.”

“I don’t know… You looked pretty weepy while you were stuttering.” Reese smirked against the wooden tabletop. “I- I- I-! …Sound familiar?”

“That didn’t happen.”

“Right…” Reese shot his word from earlier back at him.

“It didn’t! Besides, you didn’t whoop anything. That was a sucker punch and you know it.”

“Whatever makes you feel better.” Reese’s knuckles burned with pleasure as he scratched them eagerly, bits of scab flaking away. The dry scraping stopped their argument in its tracks.

“Whoa… That’s definitely infected.” Tony surveyed with a grimace. His attention had shifted like a lever. “When was the last time you washed your hands?”

“When’s the last time you minded your own business?” Reese replied bluntly. He didn’t have a proper answer. Did doing the dishes count?

“The itching’s got to be killing you.”

“Nope. Reminds me of breaking your nose.”

Tony wandered over, not reacting, eyes fixed to the wound. “Geez. I think the scabs are turning yellow…” Without warning, his large fingers took hold of Reese’s, pulling them closer to his face.

The sudden warmth made Reese stumble backward out of his chair and over a pile of dirty clothes, smacking into the wall. “Hey! Back off, pal!” He warned with eyes full of terror. “What’s the big idea?”

The taller boy backed away, too, snapping out of his daze. “I was just- Your hand is-”

“My hand is fine! So, how about you keep yours to yourself, homo?”

Tony’s mouth opened, and a whole lot of nothing came out. The floorboards creaked as his sneakers stomped away.

---

It was a while before Dewey’s whistling entered the house. Reese dropped his comic and sat up when he heard it. He was cutting it close, but there was probably still enough time to finish the twenty pages of homework before Lois got home.

“Oh! Hey, Tony.” Dewey chirped from out in the family room.

Reese froze. Why is he still here?

“…Are you alright?” Dewey’s voice trailed, uncomfortably.

Some sniffling could be heard before Tony answered. “I’m great!” He insisted. “Just my allergies acting up.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I actually came here to give you something.” A bag crinkled.

“Really? What is it?”

“Here. New batteries for your keyboard.”

“Awesome! Thank you!” Dewey cheered. “Wait. How much did you spend on all these?”

“Eh. Don’t worry about it. Consider it a down payment on my piano lessons.”

“Well, since you’re already here, we can get started on the basics.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Reese frowned, watching as his younger brother strolled in and tossed his backpack onto the rug. “What the hell took you so long? School was out over an hour ago.”

Dewey barely spared him a glance while pulling out the keyboard from beneath his bed. “I was pretending to be an only child. Lost track of time.”

“Well, I’ve got a stack of homework with your name on it. Chop chop.”

“What happened to the soup that was in the fridge?” The younger boy interjected. His face betrayed no emotion. “I was thinking of heating some up, but couldn’t find it.”

Saliva pooled in Reese’s mouth. His eye twitched. “No idea what you’re talking about. Haha...”

“That’s unfortunate. Maybe I should ask mom about it?” Dewey leaned closer. “Get my gist?”

Reese nodded weakly.

“Lovely!” Before leaving, the small boy turned back around. “I’d appreciate it if you could stay in this room. Me and Tony are going to practice in the kitchen, and I don’t want you distracting him.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, sunlight swarmed the bedroom like a cloud of vicious gnats, gnawing at Reese’s corneas. His muscles were springs, stretched to the point of snapping, but also gelatin, sliding through the prongs of a fork. He shoved away the blanket from his chest, only to miss it immediately.

Tony must have sprinkled something in that food, despite claiming otherwise. No doubt the scheming punk sat at home, laughing his ass off. But Reese didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. Instead he sighed out through his nostrils.

And when he considered marching over to punch Dewey awake, all that came out was another sigh. Even though the traitor deserved a good bop to the teeth.

He had a lot of nerve locking Reese in their room until their parents got home, using a padlock made of blackmail. Playing his stupid, little piano and joking around with the enemy. What did he and Tony even have in common?

Aside from wanting Reese dead, that is.

Which was probably what they were up to yesterday. Talking mess about him and outlining their vengeful schemes. Maybe even spilling secrets.

He needed to tear them apart.

And his other brother wasn’t much better. Malcolm seemed to smirk at him, even as he lay there snoring. He mocked Reese by staying out late, doing that lame project with Stevie. Despite knowing full well that his older brother would be cooped up in this dump for another two and a half weeks.

Then, to make it all worse, he gets home and stares at Reese like he’s some whacky specimen.

If Malcolm had something to say, he should just come out and say it.

Reese yawned. He needed to get up and brush his teeth. Scrape the bad taste from his mouth with steel wool.

---

“This tastes amazing, Tony. I can tell your dad put a lot of effort into making it.” Reese smirked over a mouthful of pasta, eyes like candles left unattended. Every chew full of purpose and enjoyment. And cheese.

As antagonistic as his intentions may have been, he was actually telling the truth last night. On any other occasion, he would have asked for the recipe.

Lois almost spat out some food as her jaw fell to the table. Instead, she swallowed it, along with several questions. Whatever brought along this apparent goodwill from her son was better off a mystery. For the sake of a peaceful dinner.

Tony’s dark gaze never left his plate. “Yup.”

A second later, Dewey leaned over to the glum teenager and whispered a few words into his ear. They pulled a bright set of teeth out of hiding. The interaction continued with a whisper back.

Reese’s chewing slowed. The shifting of cannelloni inside his head made it impossible to make out what they were saying. A scowl. “I hope you’ll let him know how grateful I am.” He tried again, ready for his enemy to tell him off.

No reply. What gives?

After Tony stormed out a few hours earlier, he hadn’t acknowledged him at all. Not when Reese glared over with bitter accusation. Nor when they sat across from each other at the table.

Instead, he addressed everyone else. Cracking jokes, telling stories, and tossing compliments out like candy.

Reese left his bowl half-finished.

When he stepped into the chilling spray of the shower, those emotions grew. If Tony wanted to ignore him, Reese would do the same.

“When’s the last time you washed your hands?”

Those words yanked his right arm away from his body as he cleaned himself, keeping the itchy, red skin clear of the water. Once done, he didn’t even need to dry it off.

And, as he sank into sleep, he clawed away the memory of Tony’s hand until his knuckles were raw and dotted crimson.

---

If his scabs weren’t yellowing before, they definitely were now. An oily pus had begun to seep out from under the cracks. It felt like wearing a glove made of steamed ham.

Reese took note of this while spitting toothpaste down the drain. A grin. This’ll show that asshole.

“Oh good. You’re up.” His father leaned into the bathroom, letting out a yawn.

Reese met his eyes, raising a brow. He’d been expecting Lois to storm in and bite his head off, after realizing that he answered those twenty pages of homework at random.

“Your mother had to go in early to help open the store.” Hal explained.

Reese perked up instantly.

“Don’t get too excited, mister.” Hal warned. “You have another twenty pages today, as well. And she expects them done right this time.”

“Fine.”

“I’m serious, Reese. If you want to be ungrounded by the time your suspension is over, you’ll need to finish every last assignment.”

“Okay.”

Hal paused. “…Alright then. Now, how about you cook your old man a real breakfast before work? It’ll be our little secret. Just make a list of what you use, so I can replace it before your mother notices.”

Reese stood a foot taller at those words, letting his fatigue drop to the floor like a heavy coat. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Dewey stumbled over to them, rubbing his eyes. “I’m telling.”

Hal smiled, undeterred. “No one likes a snitch, son. Go get ready for school.”

---

Reese hummed as he launched a pancake into the air, watching it plummet back onto the pan with a jiggle. A buttery hiss filled the house with mouthwatering aromas.

It was the last one, stacked onto a pile that bordered on ridiculous. Posed at the center of a spread of meats and fruits and oats that made the table underneath creak. He could feed his entire squadron from back in the army with this. Or, about four Wilkersons.

Not much talking filled the house for the next few minutes. Unless you were fluent in open-mouth chewing sounds and hungry snarls.

Reese savored every bite with his eyes shut, almost discovering new tastes in the process. When he let them flutter back open, Malcolm was staring right at him. He was about finished with his own food.

“What?” Reese deadpanned.

Malcolm’s lips stuck together as he went to answer. “I…” Then, he gazed off to the side for a few seconds, the way he did every now and then. When he turned back, he shook his head. “Never mind.” His plate clattered into the sink. “Great pancakes.”

Dewey, despite his earlier claims of opposition,  had dived for the bacon before anyone else could, incriminating himself and forfeiting any ability to blab. For such a small boy, he didn’t seem to fill up, even after three servings. The only time he paused was when he scribbled a few things onto a sheet of paper.

By the time he’d cleared his half of the table, Dewey had a stack of nine or ten sheets filled up. He stumbled over to Reese with them. “You know, I’m not very happy with you right now. But, after that meal, I think you deserve these.” Dewey let the pages fall next to a glass of freshly-squeezed orange juice.

The homework. Done up in the younger boy’s imitation of Reese’s penmanship. A replica so convincing that even he would have been fooled under the right circumstances. “I answered a couple questions wrong to make it believable.”

“Are you serious? Thank you!” Reese snatched them up, not about to let Dewey change his mind. “I was going to shave off your eyebrows when you fell asleep later, but now I’ll wait a couple days!”

“You’re welcom- Wait. What!?”

Reese sauntered back to his room, grinning at the words in his hands. The original plan was to answer randomly again, but now he had a way to keep Lois off his ass for a few days. He’d mix these in with a few decoys in order to meet her lowest expectations. Then, satisfied, she wouldn’t bother checking his work for a while after. Boom.

Easy street, here I come!

---

After everyone cleared out and went on their merry way, Reese raced to cover up the evidence of their crimes. Every bit of trash was stowed into a bag that he slung over his shoulder as he tiptoed it into the garage (because Lois often scoured the outside cans without warning). Next, he catapulted the few leftovers over their back fence for stray dogs to fight over.

Which only left the dishes…

He’d already avoided washing his hands before cooking breakfast, despite it being the first step of his process on a typical day. Now, he met with an obstacle that required getting a little creative.

He pursed his lips. A few seconds later, he pulled off his socks.

It was after several hours (and a series of foot cramps) that he finally discovered the rubber gloves under the sink. But he just shrugged, knowing that it would all be worth it when Tony saw his burning knuckles.

---

A startling knock cut Reese’s nap short. He smeared some slobber from his cheek, a dark stain left pooled on the couch. The walls danced about in his blurred vision. “Huh-?“

Another knock. His watch blinked at him and he blinked back. School was over.

School was over.

He ran for the front door, biting back a grin, before yanking it open. This was gonna be great!

Hal scooped up some shopping bags from the front step. “Help me get these groceries in, son. My break is almost over.”

“Oh…” Reese’s shoulders slumped. He sighed. “Alright.”

His father shimmied past him into the house, glancing over. “What? Were you expecting someone else?”

Reese grabbed the rest of the items from outside, his arms a bit sore. “Of course not.” He scoffed. “Why would I be expecting anyone?”

The two teamed up to replace the missing items, recreating the exact positions they’d originally been in.

“Is this about that Tony boy?” Hal narrowed his eyes, raising a brow.

Reese tensed up and frowned. “What does he have to do with anything?”

“You know, if you don’t want him around anymore, I can make Dewey go over to his place for the piano lessons, instead of having him come here.” Hal suggested, enthusiastically. “ And I’m not saying that because he and your mother have been talking a suspicious amount lately and leaving me out of it. It’d be silly to get jealous over a thing like that.” He forced a laugh.

Reese shot around to glare at him. “What? Who said I was jealous!?”

His father recoiled, tilting his head in confusion. “No, Reese. I was just saying-”

“I don’t need your opinions!” Reese slammed the loaf of bread he held onto the counter, flattening a good chunk of it. “So, stay out of my business!” Then, he stormed out, leaving Hal with a blank expression.

 Dewey skipped inside as the van squeaked out of the driveway, mumbling a song to himself like some kind of dork.

“What’s got you so happy?” Reese demanded.

His brother paused. Then, he grinned. “Nothing.”

“You know, you’re really starting to piss me off.” Reese slammed backward onto the couch, feeling something crunch underneath the cushions.

“Cheer up, Reese.” The small boy unzipped his backpack, looking way too happy with himself. “Here.”

“What’s this?” Reese took hold of the manila folder, cautiously.

“It’s the rest of your homework for today. I’m gonna need you to make yourself scarce when Tony comes over.”

Reese looked crestfallen, barely glancing at the treasure in his possession. “But I was gonna…” He trailed off.

“Gonna do what?” Dewey peered down at him.

Reese looked away. “Nothing.”

“Oh. Well, see you in a few hours.”

Reese bit his tongue, slowly rising back up. It wasn’t until he got to the other side of the house that he turned back around, holding his bribe in both hands. Then, he slumped into his room and shut the door.

The folder pinwheeled through the air, splitting open on his pillow, and letting its contents accordion out.

He knew he should be over the moon. That was all the homework he needed to keep his mother sleeping in her cave for the next few days. He'd pretty much have free rein.

So why did he want to ruin it by going out there and starting a fight?

Do it, loser.

Reese shook his head. “I can’t, Davey. I have all my homework. And Tony’s too busy ignoring me to blab about our kiss. Everything’s going well. I just have to let it stay that way.”

You heard that man-child earlier, didn’t you? Your mother and Tony are talking. She knows everything already. And Dumbo in the other room has you eating out of his hand. Keeping you locked up so he can tell Tony about that time you cried while watching Titanic.

Reese grit his teeth. “He wouldn’t dare.”

We both know that’s not true.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? He knows about the soup. If he tells mom about it, she’ll probably make me apologize to Tony while kissing his feet or something.”

I don’t need to hear about your fantasies, homo.

Reese frowned, face hot. “Fuck you!”

No thanks.

A tap on the bathroom door cut Reese off.

He paled, knowing that whoever stood behind that door had heard everything.

Chapter Text

Silence dripped down the walls of the room, flooding like vomit over the floor. It made the steps taken toward the bathroom door an agonizing trek.

Whoever hid behind it's flimsy wood now had complete control over him. Blackmail so strong no amount of stomping and baseball bats could put a dent in it. Blackmail that made Reese’s eyes sting.

So, of course it was Malcolm he discovered when it swung open, eyebrows raised like he’d just found a rat in his soup.

“Who were you talking to…?”

Silence settled into Reese’s mouth, locking his jaw shut. Tight enough to crack open teeth.

“You could at least try not to look guilty.” Malcolm stood up straighter. His expression lightened, watching that wet rat melt into a golden ticket. He was ready to sue this restaurant for every last penny. “I knew there was something going on between you two.”

In a mindless flash, Reese strangled Malcolm’s collar, shoving him against the nearest tiles with a grunt. He loaded his fist like a gun. But would firing it do any good? “Please.” He begged, voice cracking. “Please…”

Malcolm smirked, squirming. “So, you two kissed? I hope you at least brushed your teeth first.”

Reese burned crimson for a second before turning skeleton pale. A million choices blurred his vision, but his hands were too shaky to grab one. “W-why are you even here?! You’re supposed to be at Stevie’s working on that stupid project!”

His brother didn’t answer straight away. Instead, he shrugged off his grip while tossing him an eye roll “Well, you’ll be happy to know that I am at Stevie’s house.”

“Huh?”

“I’m mixing chemicals as we speak. And I won’t be home until after dinner.” This was spoken matter-of-factly.

Reese shook his head. He was used to missing the big picture, even on a daily basis. But, as they crossed the doorframe back into their room, he felt there was something different about this time. “What are you talking about?”

Malcolm pointed a single finger at Reese’s mattress. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

On the twin bed lay a miserable, snoring teenager, clutching a manila folder against his chest. His dark hair obviously hadn’t seen a comb in days and his hand looked like it was borrowed from a corpse. Shifting and grunting spoke of nightmares.

“You should take better care of yourself.” Malcolm asserted. “You look like shit.”

Reese paused. “Wait. Is that me?”

“I think that’s what I just said, Einstein.”

“But how?”

Malcolm turned to him. “You passed out from the fever.” He said, shrugging.

“What fever?”

That triggered a scoff, like an explorer stumbling right into a boobie trap. “The one you’ve been getting all day. God. Even in a dream I can’t get away from your stupid questions.”

Reese moved to speak, but Malcolm cut him off by raising a hand. “Look, you’re about to wake up, so I have to go now. But here’s some advice: Don’t listen to Davey.”

“Wait-”

“It only wants to mess everything up.”

---

There was something long and hard in his Reese’s mouth. A thermometer.

The metal was cold and bled a bitter taste under his tongue, stabbing against the veins that hid below. He spat it out and smacked his flaky lips.

It was immediately thrust back in, with all the care of a shiv to the kidney. “Let it do it’s job, Reese. Neither one of us wants to switch over to the rectal thermometer.”

Cedar tresses hung above the shoulders of a baby-blue smock. His mother’s mouth twisted about. Her brown surveillance cameras scanned him for any clues about the scheme that he was obviously pulling. “Figures this would happen while I’m at work.”

Jagged springs poked into Reese’s back as he stretched his legs. A blanket had been tossed onto him at some point.

Lois pressed her icy fingers to his skillet of a forehead, and they almost sizzled. “Clearly, you didn’t have enough to do around the house if you had time to get sick.” Then, with a tongue click, she added, “Guess it can’t be helped.”

The drool-coated rod was yanked from between Reese’s teeth. A chill skittered down his body. “Where’s Malcolm?” He asked.

“He’s not home yet. Probably get here soon, though.” His mother’s stare pressed him further into the lifeless foam below. “Why do you ask?”

“Um… I wanted to ask him for help on my homework.”

“That homework is for you to suffer through.” She warned. The folder he’d been holding had suddenly appeared between her claws. It flapped open. “But it looks like you did fine on your own... So, I’ll let you rest for a few days until you get better.”

Score! Reese smacked his smile away, afraid to change her mind. “Cool.”

“But only until you get better.” She wiped off the thermometer and stashed it into the pocket of her Lucky Aide uniform. “Although, I do wonder what caused this.” She added, off-handedly.

Reese shivered, slipping his arms further under the blanket. “Who knows? Probably something I ate.”

White plastic rattled as it bounced off his chest. A pill bottle.

Lois rose from his side. “Take two of those every six hours. I’ll bring you some food in a bit.”

Then, he was alone with his misery.

The adrenaline from his nightmare had blown away like cheap cologne, leaving aches and chills behind. Reese hugged the fleece tighter to himself.

That dream made something perfectly clear. Davey had some good points. Lois might know more than she let on, and Dewey needed to be humbled.

Unfortunately, with his body in this shameful state, nothing could be done anytime soon. He was back to sighing while staring at the racecar on his Kyle Petty poster.

And there was only one person to blame.

The intruder with waves of golden thread hanging down his face and neck, who had rushed into Reese’s territory like a self-important tsunami. The asshole who had clearly dosed him with something.

The voice that drifted in from outside the bedroom.

“Hey, Mrs. Wilkerson. Didn’t see you come in. How was work?” Came his shrill ass-kissing.

“Oh, they had to pry me away from the register. I was on my knees begging to check out just one more rude costumer before quitting time.” Lois responded.

“That bad, huh?” Tony chuckled.

“I’ve got the headache to prove it.” She sighed.

“I think I know what might cheer you up.”

“A trip to Italy?”

“Better. A game of March and Conquer. I believe you were in the process of surrendering the other night when I took Canada straight out from under you.”

Lois let out a hearty cackle. “Well, as much as I’d love to wipe that smirk off your face, I’m afraid I have to pass. I’m working this weekend, so I’ve got to get to sleep soon.”

“Oh.” Tony’s voice fell, losing a bit of enthusiasm. “Next time, then?”

Their words were becoming dirt in a blender. Eventually, Reese couldn’t make out any of it. His eyelids slid shut again.

---

Reese wished he had some badass sunglasses when he woke up. The kind that movie stars strut around in while showing off their perfect abs on the covers of magazines. Those overly-expensive magazines he sometimes glanced at while waiting in line for his mother to pay for their groceries.

Sunglasses sturdy enough to resist the searing glow of lava which poured in from around the curtains, letting him know he’d missed breakfast by a few hours.

Reese groaned and flung himself the other way. However, he found that it wasn’t enough to make his brain stop kicking and scratching the inside of his skull.

So, he added a pillow on top and squeezed it against his face. If he were lucky, it’d smother him to death.

Ten ear-slicing minutes later, he finally gave up and let it happen. The sounds of his family, sans Lois, were free to torture him with any weapon they pleased.

What a shitty weekend.

“This is the best day ever!” Malcolm shrieked. His footsteps tapped over the sticky floorboards, faster than a teenage girl texting her friend about the newest school gossip.

Reese squeezed his eyes shut harder. His voice came out slowly and warningly. “Malcolm, unless there are strippers outside handing out hundred dollar bills, I’d appreciate you shutting up.”

“This is almost as good!” Malcolm was smiling wide. And Reese could hear it with excruciating clarity.

A sigh. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why is it the best day ever?” Reese hissed out the words, imitating Malcolm’s delivery.

“Dad’s taking us to a wrestling tournament! It’s five straight hours of guys beating the snot out of each other!”

Reese shot upright, pillow catapulting from his head. “He is? Awesome!”

He could imagine it now. Femurs snapping beautifully. A mist of hot blood dancing against his face. Maybe today wouldn’t suck so much ass.

“And that’s not even the best part.” Malcolm threw his arms out. “They’re front row tickets! We’ll be like a foot away from the ring!”

That’s all it took to pull Reese to his feet. He’d be able to count their muscle fibers from that distance! “Hell yeah! I’m totally getting some new teeth for my collection. So, when do we leave? Do I have time to do my hair?”

His brother froze, expression dropping. “Oh… Uh… Well, you see…”

Hal chose the perfect time to stroll down the hallway.

Malcolm hooked him by the shoulder and yanked him over. “I think that’s something you should ask dad.” Then, he power-walked away.

Hal barely missed a beat before turning to Reese. “Ask me what?”

“Malcolm was telling me about the wrestling tournament. When do we leave?”

Hal chirped out a laugh. “You’re not going. You’re sick as a dog.” His expression grew serious. “And still grounded.”

Reese’s mouth hung open. “What?! That’s not fair!”

“I’ll tell you what’s not fair, mister. Shining your boss’s shoes and warming his toilet seat every day for a month, only for him to give a raise to Martin down in accounting. That’s what’s not fair.” Hal waved his hand in frustration.

“I’m not even that sick!”

“No more complaining, Reese. You should feel lucky I’m leaving you here, instead of driving you over to the Lucky Aide where your mother can keep an eye on you.” Hal traipsed over to his son, his shoe catching on a pair of dirty boxers before kicking them away. His hand patted the teen’s slick forehead. Then, he gently shoved him back onto the bed. “Now, there’s some leftovers in the fridge. If you get hungry, don’t eat them. They’re mine. But feel free to make yourself a sandwich or something.”

Reese scowled, another wave of lethargy keeping him down. “So, you’re just going to leave me by myself? Even though I’m sick?”

“I’m glad you understand.” Hal nodded. “If you need anything while we’re gone, my number, as well as your mother’s, is on the fridge. Don’t hesitate to call.”

Then, he moved to leave, only to pause. “But try your mother’s first.”

---

Reese could count the drops pouring from his clammy skin. Every hair on his body clung to him, like a dog tossed out into the summer rain. A dog whose only crime was doing what dogs do.

Every wall of this room was plastered with posters that yelled out to be seen. A reflection of the interests that once plagued him when he was younger. An ocean of sports teams with merchandise cheap enough to buy in bulk. Drawings of superheroes being so much cooler than him. And even a few street signs he’d stolen with his older brother Francis, who'd pestered his mother until she gave up on seeing them returned to their rightful posts.

An hour had passed since he was leashed to his bed. An hour with only Davey to keep him company. Although, if he was being factual, it had been keeping him company for almost a decade at that point.

Don’t you just love fire? The aggressive stench of smoke? The crackling of destruction? I’m pretty sure there’s a new box of matches in the garage.

“For the last time, I’m not going to burn my house down.” Reese rolled his eyes. He gripped his arms tighter around his chest, hoping the chill would give up soon. Unlike Davey, which never stopped being annoying.

Come on. This’ll make you forget all about that silly fever. Plus, I never said it had to be this place. That blonde faggot’s house is perfect.

“I don’t even know where Tony lives. Now, shut up and let me sleep.”

Why don’t just follow the smell of his cologne. I know how much you love it…

Reese didn’t bother replying. Davey knew everything he was thinking. Sometimes even before he did. Aggravatingly.

HAHAHA! Don’t get so offended, you-

A door clicked on the other side of the house. Reese knew it was the one closest to the TV from the way it traveled directly through the house with no bouncing or muffling. He’d learned to tell them all apart over years of doing things he wasn’t supposed to and stopping just before he could be caught.

…Huh. They got back pretty fast.

But there was no chance it was Hal and his brothers. They’d taken everything they could possibly need when they rallied out to the van, and even a few things they definitely wouldn’t. If they had forgotten anything, it was not worth coming back for.

Whoever it was took timid steps and didn’t slam the door shut behind them. They were too gentle toward the house, missing the years of built-up resentment that came with living in such a dump.

“Hello? Dewey?” The intruder’s voice rose in tone while asking, but never left that deep, rough valley it called home.

Oh. It’s lover-boy…

Chapter Text

Why is he here?  

Reese groaned. Legs so tense, it brought back memories of climbing to the top of the water tower and threatening to jump. 

He'd desperately wanted to provoke Tony yesterday. To flaunt his mangled hand with a defiant smile. Soak in that horrified look and store it in his brain forever. But now his joints tingled with feathery heat and his plan felt less than glorious. 

Tony had come to marvel at the aftermath of his evil lasagna. Point and laugh and let the world know he’d won.  

So, before those footsteps cleared the sticky kitchen tiles, Reese shut his eyes and forced his breathing to even out. His foe would find no satisfaction here. 

“Dewey?” The voice called out. “Anyone?” The smell of cinnamon got there first, checking the room for any signs of danger before Tony himself could peek. “Oh.” 

Reese pictured Tony floating in the dark of his eyelids. Hand on the door frame, gawking at him like a kid at the zoo. No doubt he’d crack a smirk and leave. 

But, a minute later, there were still four lungs in the room. 

The off-putting breaths ventured closer, revealing another scent under the cologne. But one that helped it grow complex, not cluttered. That’s when Reese began bracing. Was Tony planning to get even with a suckerpunch of his own? 

Instead came a sigh of frustration. “Is this some sort of joke?” The words fell over Reese like a sour-lime slushie. Stabbing and bitter. 

But Reese kept his lips sealed. Instead, he listened for what the other boy was referring to. 

“I know you’re not sleeping.” Tony spoke. 

Reese held off the urge to gulp, heart speeding up. He was obviously bluffing. 

“Dude, you’re not snoring and your pillow doesn’t have a puddle of drool on it. I doubt you’ve changed that much since I saw you yesterday.” 

That got Reese to crack. “Hey!” 

When did he see him sleeping? 

Tony grinned at him as their eyes met, only to get stone-faced a second later. “Where’s Dewey? And why are you by yourself? Your mom said you were sick last night.” 

A sniffle. “What are you a cop?” 

“Dewey told me to come over for a piano lesson. Said to let myself in.” 

Reese glanced at Tony, not buying a single word. The boy was wearing a maroon tank top and a pair of running shorts that did little to hide the muscular thighs within. A veneer of sweat glinting in sunlight from beyond the dusty window. 

“I was out running.” Tony explained, picking up on his gaze. Reese looked away. 

He tossed his sheets aside and rose to his feet. Trying his best not to sway or appear an easy victim while heading to the bathroom. He could defend himself even in this rickety state. “Well your lesson’s canceled, Shakespeare. Go finger your tiles somewhere else.”  

The blond balked. “That doesn’t even-” He shook his head in resignation. “Whatever… If he isn’t here, then where is he?” 

Reese stopped and glared at the boy that followed behind him. “Do I look like MapQuest to you?” He spat, shrugging him off. Then, he stood there with an expectant look on his face. 

“What?” Tony narrowed his own eyes right back. 

“Are you expecting a show? Or were you planning to hold it for me?” Reese reached for his waistband, standing in front of the toilet. “Get out, creep.” 

“Oh.” Tony shut the door behind him. “Sorry.” 

Clearly, Dewey was scheming. He’d called Tony over to make Reese’s day that much more infuriating. Get them to fight for his entertainment. 

Or maybe he’d forgotten to cancel before heading out. Either way, he was as good as dead when he got home. 

Reese’s stream shot particularly angry while hosing off the bowl. Ridding his system of whatever Italian voodoo poison he’d eaten. 

And, when he stumbled back to his bed, he noted the culprit sitting at Malcolm’s desk. Shuffling push-pins around. Just… waiting. 

“Why are you still here? Don’t you have some more people to make sick?” Reese grumbled. 

Tony barely heard his words. “You didn’t wash your hands.” He replied. 

Both boys looked down, examining his inflamed fists. The obvious deterioration they’d suffered. 

“So?” 

Tony brushed past him, entering the bathroom and shaking his head. 

Reese turned, watching the rift of the Italian’s back under the clingy fabric of his shirt. There was shuffling and clattering while the boy ransacked the cupboard under the sink. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Reese demanded. 

“Looking for something.” Came a simple reply. 

A second later, Tony returned with a white case. The red emblem catching Reese’s attention. “Why do you have our Bible?” He furrowed his eyebrows. 

Tony followed his gaze down to the first aid kit. “What?” 

Reese pointed at the lid. “Uh, I’ve been to church before. I know what a cross means.”  

Tony shut his eyes and sighed. Then he set the box on Reese’s desk, snapping the latch open. “This is a first aid kit. And, somehow, I’m not surprised you didn’t know that.” 

A mist of rubbing alcohol escaped the thing, causing them both to hold their breath for a second. Tony dug around its insides, picking out an item at a time and scanning over it. Before either setting it back in its original spot or placing it aside. 

Reese leaned forward, eyes glazing over the many trinkets it held. “We have one of those? Man, that would’ve been helpful when I shaved off the tip of my finger with dad’s razor. Or that time Dewey bit my elbow open. Or when I had that fish hook stuck in my ball-” 

“I get the picture.” Tony grimaced. Then, he picked up Reese’s hand and set it on the desk. 

It was a sudden coolness. Like tossing a bucket of ice over a steaming sidewalk. A swimming pool after a drawn-out game of baseball. But, most of all, it was aggravating. And Reese quickly snapped his entire arm away, face creasing. “Touch me again, and you’ll need a whole lot more than a first aid kit.” He warned. 

They stood a foot apart. Both boys listening to their base instincts. Split between taking a swing or getting ready to counter. But neither could make a choice. 

So, instead, Tony scoffed and tilted an eyebrow. “Your hand is going to rot off. I need to disinfect it as soon as possible.” 

“What if I want it to rot?” Reese stuck out his jaw. Willing the other to act. Baiting him. Ready for any excuse to break his nose again. 

It still had some soft bruising along the bridge. Reese bet it ached when he touched it. Had any of the kids at school mentioned it? 

Tony peered down at him. Visibly unimpressed. 

“Be serious, Reese. Your other hand isn’t much better. The sooner I clean one, the sooner I can get to the other.” Tony made another grab for it, not waiting for confirmation.  

And Reese didn’t tense or pull away. At least not immediately. 

Tony’s fingers were so much bigger than his, with squared tips and freshly trimmed nails. And they felt almost stupidly soft. Like dough left to rise overnight. Reese wasn’t sure whether he was imagining it. Whether his senses had dulled from sickness or something. 

It wasn’t until his scab-coated knuckles were being poked at that he remembered to step away. 

“I am serious. They can both fall off for all I care.” Reese shrugged. “I’ll just get hook hands. Like a pirate, but without the gay bird.” 

“No offense, but you don’t look like a pirate. You look like shit. I’ll give you one guess what’s causing your fever.” 

No response. 

So, the kit clicked shut. Tony stood and gave a sigh, not making a show of it. “Fine. You’re right. I’m sure you’ll do great with hook hands.” Reese glanced up out of the corner of his eye, eyebrows setting. 

“But be careful when you’re re-learning how to jack off. Those things are pretty sharp. All it takes is one distraction and SHHNNNKK!” Tony sliced the air with a small but effective chop. 

Reese flinched at the action, bravado slipping away. Shattering to bits at his bare feet. 

After that, the house fell mute, Tony’s back the only sight worth focusing on. It abandoned him without any further comment. 

It took until he got to the living room for a small voice to call after him. “Wait.” It shook slightly. Like a vase left on the edge of a shelf. 

Which got Tony to stop. And even hold back a grin. But it didn’t get him to turn around. He was a mercenary now, waiting high in the tree tops for the right moment to leap down. 

“Please…” It tried again, even flimsier than before. And suddenly he was pivoting on his heel. 

He found Reese looking the other way. His fist held out in a silent offer. 

Tony crossed his arms, not budging from outside the room. “Did you need something?”  

Reese scowled, refusing to look back at the other. “Just do your thing already.” 

“So… No pirate hooks? But you seemed so excited a second ago.” 

“Tony, I swear to god.”  

When their hands met this time, there was no resistance. 

Chapter Text

Reese glared at the blinding white bandages. So pure against his skin. Hugging his hands like they cared. Fresh snow to stop the burn. And all he wanted to do was pull them off.

But every time he reached for one, there was a tingle in his fingers. And up his arms. And even in his stomach. And that made him back off.

So he closed his eyes.

“Any longer and you would have been in trouble.” That’s what Tony had claimed. He’d said it without any particular tone. And Reese didn’t know whether he should take offense or agree. So he just stayed on edge. Ready for any reason to call it quits and keep things as they were.

They’d sat side-by-side on the foot of his bed. About arms length apart. Only for Tony to slide a bit closer. He leaned in so close to the wounds, wiping them clean with firm motions. Not taking any extra care to be gentle.

So focused that he didn’t notice their knees touching. But Reese did. A sudden sting bringing him back to attention. More rubbing alcohol, seeping into the cracks in his scabs. And foaming up with a hiss.

Tony moved closer. Now, the side of his bare leg pressed against Reese’s. Only thin fabric keeping them apart.

Reese glanced up and swallowed. Tony looked back at him, straight into his eyes.

“What?” Reese mumbled.

“Your other hand.” Tony replied. “Let me see it.”

“Oh... Okay.” But Reese didn’t move. He was afraid to bump into the other, only a few inches between them. He could count the lashes on Tony’s eyes from here. Each one long and dark. Fluttering softly with every blink.

Tony leaned in closer. And Reese pulled away immediately.

He caught himself from saying anything when he realized Tony had already grabbed his other hand. And begun cleansing it with the same diligence as the first.

In that brief moment, Reese had noticed the same smell from before. Hiding in a mist of cologne. Just the softest hint. But clear to him. It was the lingering scent of a good workout. The sweat of someone other than yourself.

Tony really had been on a run before this. But, thankfully, not a long one. If the faintness was any indication.

Reese probably would’ve gagged at anything stronger. A sweaty guy just didn’t have the same appeal as a sweaty girl.

Like when he’d been a cheerleader. All the way back in middle school.

He’d always look forward to lifting the girls. And none more than his first girlfriend. Wendy.

She was so graceful, flipping and kicking. Leading everyone in the routine until she was happy with the result. Breathing heavy after a good practice. And wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

She didn’t like hugging him after practice, for the same reason he adored hugging her. They always ended up drenched. But when she relented, Reese would take a breath near the side of her neck. And smile, because nobody could call him creepy for doing so.

They were meant to be… For a few weeks.

At some point, he mentioned that movie he couldn’t find. And she offered her interest. But when he kept going, her interest didn’t.

She called the stunts he described  “impossible.” That had stung. But, when she said the main character should’ve turned himself over to the cops, it got worse.

And when she finally dumped him, he only cried himself to sleep once.

The door ghosts open with a gentle breeze. Reese glances up, finding Tony on his way back in.

“You still have the bandages on?” He notes with a grin. “I expected you to rip them off as soon as I left.”

Reese exhales softly. “But you haven’t left.” Comes his pointed response. His pill bottle rattles as he scoops it off the night stand. He grips the lid with the tips of his sweaty fingers, to keep the bandages from catching. It doesn’t come loose.

He's very aware of the legs in the corner of his vision. The way they traipse over. Stopping a bit too close for his taste. “You shouldn’t have those on an empty stomach. Have you eaten yet?”

That earns another sigh. Reese glances up without replying, still prying at the lid.

They sit in silence.

“I can make you something.”

“I’m fine.”

“…It would only take a second.”

“I’m fine.”

“How about-

“I’m fine.”

Tony rolls his eyes and drops onto the bed across the way. “I’m just trying to help.”

“If you say so.” The bottle creaks open a bit.

“What’s your problem?” Tony stares him down. Face reddening.

“I’m looking at him.” The reply is quick and punctuated by the lid flying loose. A rain of pills falls to the bed spread.

Tony doesn’t even react to them. “I don’t understand you! First you’re mad that I’m ‘out to get you.’ And now you’re mad that I’m trying to be nice. There’s no winning with you!”

“You’re the one that’s trying to ruin my life!” Reese finally gives up his unbothered act. “Making my family hate me. Lying about me. And we both know you put something in that food!”

Tony gives a dry laugh. “I guess you have me all figured out. So, let me ask you a question. If I poisoned my food, why are you the only one sick?

A moment of silence loosened Reese’s brow. He paused to think. “Obviously, you put something  into my plate only.”

“Of course!” Tony snapped his fingers and gave a bitter nod. “Now, was that while your mom served everyone?  Or when you snatched the bowl from her hand? Oh, I know! Maybe when you immediately scarfed it all down?”

Reese licked his lips. Any attempt to reply falling apart.

A ding from the kitchen turned both their heads. Tony tweaked his jaw before turning back. “The soup is ready. Kind of assumed you would say yes.” His voice was sheepish. Shoulders slumped.

The boy rose weakly as Reese watched. And he wanted to stop him. He looked miserable, but not in the way Reese wanted. What could he even say to him after all of that? No way would he take it back. And he still wasn’t sure he wanted to.

That’s when Reese’s stomach growled. Loudly.

Tony looked back in a pathetically hopeful way. Eyes obvious like a window into his thoughts.

And Reese found himself talking before he even made a decision. “Fine! I’ll eat your stupid soup. Happy?” He crossed his arms and scowled. Eyes anywhere but that lame face.

And, as Tony scurried to the kitchen, Reese called after him. “But you’re eating some first. So be careful what you put in it.”

“Don’t worry. I left my poison in my other shorts.” Tony called back.

Reese shook his head, picking up the mess of pills. Setting them aside once more. But not before choking one down in defiance.

---

So, it didn’t smell horrible. A hearty chicken breeze, with the spicy undercurrent of powdered herbs. It was only natural for his mouth to water a bit, given he’d gone all day without eating.

The real test came in the form of steamy softness and the way it kissed his throat on the way down. Promising the scratchy feeling would be gone soon.

“Not the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” Reese allowed. Picking up a spoonful and waterfalling it back down. “It beats out of a can, I guess.”

Tony nodded. Choosing to ignore the setting sun beyond the glass or any of the oddities that littered the room. More concerned with observing Reese as he ate. Taking note of every micro-expression following a spoonful of amber.

Reese pretended not to feel it.  “So…” He slurped, trailing off into nothing.

Tony shifted, eyes peeling away. “There’s plenty more in the kitchen if you’re still hungry.” He rubbed his palms over his legs before standing. “Think I’m gonna go now.”

Yet, only a few steps later, Reese piped up. “A little more salt would help.” He muttered, not glancing up from the warm pool in his hands. “People underestimate how much a pinch really is.”

Tony looked at the bowl, too.

“Call it basic and boring but, without salt, a lot of food just wouldn’t work.” Reese continued. “I wish people weren’t so quick to judge it.”

The taller boy sat back down. “Sure. But it’s also easy to add too much. And you can’t just undo the damage.” He scratched the bridge of his nose. “Hard to blame them for steering clear after having bad experiences.”

Reese dropped the spoon and watched it sink, until only a peek of silver was visible. A few drops of soup flicked over his bandages, melting into the fabric. “But how will they learn to like it if they give up so quickly?”

The yellow spots didn’t go unnoticed by Tony. Addressed with the tiniest shake of his head. “How will they learn to like it if they’ve never gotten a good taste out of it?” He replied. “What if it just keeps tasting the same?”

Reese’s stomach twisted up. But this time he knew it wasn’t caused by poison. He tried downing another sip, but the mass just stalled in his mouth. Getting colder. And eventually stumbling down with the grace of a bowling ball.

“I don’t understand you.” He finally looked up. “You make fun of me, and then get mad when I hit you? You do everything you can to make my life miserable, and then you kiss my fucking ouchies? What do you even want from me?” Reese didn’t look away. Not even when his body begged him to end the awkwardness. He needed to find an answer. Or he’d crack open in front of this stranger. And who knows what might come out?

“I already told you that’s not what happened.” Tony held his gaze in return. Perhaps sensing Reese’s fragility, he kept his voice free of aggression. “When I saw you sitting all alone-“

Reese’s body creaked, his meltdown imminent.

“I didn’t see a loser. And I didn’t walk over to make fun of you.” The final rays of gold disappeared beyond the rooftops. “I wanted to ask if I could sit with you. Because I saw somebody that needed a friend. Just as bad as I did.”

Reese wasn’t an emotional guy. He was made of steel. Only sharing his thoughts by using his fists.

Every once in a while, he went to his wishing hole and told it things that made him hate himself. But only so he could forget about them afterwards. And then he would sob, and wish he was anybody else.

Now, he wouldn’t make it to the tree in time.

Tony looked away when they started falling. Not sure he deserved to see Reese like this. “I wanted to be the bigger man. Instead, I treated you like an easy fight to pick. How messed up is that?”

Every sniff and shudder made it harder for Reese to answer. “You’re lying.” He accused the other. “I’m not going to fall for it.” Every swipe to dry his eyes as unsuccessful as the last.

A box of tissues was passed his way. Gingerly accepted.

And there they sat. Just two boys in a world they’d never known. Fighting off shame and losing miserably.

---

The front door rattled open. Cool, evening air rushing into the house uninvited.

The two boys slid away from each other.

“What a joke!” Hal’s voice carried clearly through the walls. “Where is it written that you can’t tag yourself in when your guy is losing? I mean come on, they were ganging up on him!”

Dewey sighed with little restraint. “Dad, You know it’s fake right? They have it all planned out in advance.”

“Oh, really? Then why was he yelling out for help, wise guy?” Hal grumbled.

“It’s acting! His wrestling name is S.O.S, for god’s sake! That’s his whole thing.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, son. You’re the one who has to live with the guilt of standing idly by.”

Malcolm stomped into the room, head hanging, flinging his jacket onto the nearest piece of furniture. “Of course he had to get us banned right before the ladies’ matches.”

All three boys locked eyes. Malcolm’s posture correcting itself when he realized Reese wasn’t alone. Concern growing with every peek between them.

He even leaned back out into the hallway, as if looking for backup.

Reese hoped the redness of his eyes wasn’t overly obvious. That the tears had dried enough to feign composure.

“Oh. Hi.” Malcolm croaked.

“Hey there.” Tony replied with a polite grin. His face otherwise neutral.

That’s when silence took over. For just a second too long.

But neither of them expected Malcolm to shut the door behind him.

“Okay, this is driving me nuts.” He lowered his voice, cautiously. Not moving any closer. “Punch me if I’m wrong, but… did you two actually kiss?”

Chapter Text

“Punch me if I’m wrong, but… did you two actually kiss?” Malcolm took only a moment to scan their faces. Eyes flipping between the two accused to catch any hint of guilt. “Not that I care or anything, but some people at school have been talking all sorts of crap.” If Malcolm really had been unbothered by it, his wrinkled forehead gave the opposite impression.  

Reese’s body grew cold at the words. His fever abandoned for a pain that was, somehow, worse.  

Because you think and think about the worst thing that can happen, growing numb to the anxious shaking of your legs. But when it crashes through the roof and stares you in the eye, it still jostles the soul from your body.   

The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. The last embers of day falling to the ground and wheezing away. No moon around to fight the choking swaddle of darkness that embraced the city.  

So, stepping forward into the unfamiliar world of surrender, Reese confe-  

“What? It’s bad enough I had my nose smacked off my face. Now, someone’s making up rumors about me?” Tony’s shoulders set, fists clenched. No trace of a smile on his lips. And his normally subdued accent melted into something raspier. Something more overtly Italian. “Buncha storytellers at that school.”  

Malcolm and Reese both paused and stared. Surprised not only by Tony’s declaration but also by his complete disregard for volume. Not playing along with what was supposed to be a hushed conversation.  

“So, wait. You didn’t kiss Reese?” Malcolm settled his attention on Tony. Eyes narrowed. “But you’ve both been acting all weird. And now I come home to find you two together. You understand how that looks, right?”  

Tony shot to his feet. Both brothers bracing in response.  

“Malcolm, get a good look at me.” Tony patted the spot over his heart, actually pausing for Malcolm to admire him. “If I were lookin’ to smooch some guy, you really think I would settle for your brother?” He flung a thumb back at Reese, making the comparison obvious. “Think about it.”  

Reese took the opportunity to let his eyes roam, too.  

Taking in the muscled shoulders, accented with soft veins. Long legs leading into a narrow waist. Hair so clean and soft that it would be impossible to tangle. And had his running shorts always been that tight over his butt?  

Every part of him made Reese look laughable in comparison.  

And that was all it took for Malcolm to relax. His slouch returning as his back unstuck from the door. “I guess not…” He stumbled over, eyes still a bit wary. “But- “  

“If I were gonna get with anyone in this family, it would probably be you.” Tony smiled, leaning down closer to the brunette. Face an inch away. Making it clear just how different they were in height. “You got pretty eyes. Pretty like a girl.” His voice dropped as he said this.  

Now it was Malcolm’s turn to freeze. “What?” His voice shook, and he stumbled away, teetering onto his bed. “I’m not- I don’t-”  

Tony cracked up in response. “Relax! I’m just messing with you.” Then, he clapped him on the shoulder. “You should see your face!”   

The blood was still leaving Malcolm’s face as Tony stepped out of the room. “Anyway, I gotta get home, but thanks for the laugh. See you two later.” He nodded and walked out of view.  

Reese licked his lips. Not sure what had just happened. His heart wasn’t spasming anymore, the threat of being exposed dealt with. But he didn’t exactly feel better.  

And as he rediscovered the bandages on his hands, he felt even more confused than before.  

“I don’t get it.” Malcolm spoke up after a while. “Lloyd and Dabney told me they saw you two kiss. Why would they lie?”  

Reese dropped onto his mattress and sighed in annoyance. “They probably still hate me for all the wedgies and stuff. Krelboynes hold grudges over the stupidest things.” He rolled away from his brother, making a mental note to visit them after his suspension. “Besides, those two don’t have any right calling other people gay.”  

---  

Days blew past. Carried through on green, spring breeze. Generous rains clearing away the filth that collected in the Wilkerson household. Leaving something fresh all around. Expectation.  

The question of what came next. And how fast.  

Reese’s homework pile had been trimmed down a fair bit. From thick as a textbook to… well, a slightly thinner textbook. And he’d even done some of it himself. Between chores and exercise sessions.  

Years back, Francis had passed down an old weight set to his brothers before he got shipped off to military school. An incomplete, slightly rusted thing. Which Reese proceeded to hog every day, fighting off Malcolm and Dewey any time they so much as looked at them. Until they eventually lost interest and surrendered full ownership to him.  

He’d felt like a man when he held them. Curling the dumbbells with terrible form until his scrawny arms burned. Imagining that his older brother was sharing his strength with him. Even hugging the cold steel to his chest whenever the ache of missing Francis became too strong.  

And when he’d noticed his arms begin to fill out in the mirror, he let out a cheer and jumped around the garage, swearing to never miss a day. Polishing the old things until they glittered like new.  

Eventually, his interest waned, though. Leading to less regular efforts. But never snuffing out fully.  

Now he was back at it. Slipping out back any time he needed to blow off steam. Channeling his frustrations into chest, biceps, and triceps. Swearing whenever a nick in the metal snagged his bandages. Keeping his grip as firm as he could with cotton-bound palms.  

 The heaviest pair no longer posed the same challenge they did back in the day. Once acting as a nebulous flame on the horizon. Now, they were a nice warm up before he moved on to his bench press.  

His mother made a stink every time he used the barbell by himself. Calling out Hal or Malcolm to spot for him. And warning that if a crushed throat didn’t do him in, she’d finish the job, so he’d never disobey again. But with her at work, he could go at it in welcome silence. Not worried about anyone seeing his sweaty, strained face. Or the shake of his arms when he reached the end of a workout.   

The gym sessions washed out the remnants of his fever. Until he was fully himself once more. He remembered hearing that a strong body led to a strong immune system. Perhaps in gym class. Or a bodybuilding show on TV. Either way, he felt great.  

Until he walked back inside.  

“Stevie, we can’t change the formula this late in the experiment. We know it works mostly fine, so leave it alone.” Malcolm glared over his shoulder at his equally exasperated friend. Jotting down words that seemed made up to Reese. Each one taking up the width of a page.  

Rolling his wheelchair over to the desk, Stevie spat a response. “You don’t get… to tell me… how to… do my part. If we can’t... get this perfect… we’ll be stuck… with an A-minus.” He had a red tinge to his russet skin, jaw tweaked to the side.  

“But if we mess it up now, we’ll be back at square one. And no way we have enough time for a second pass.” The composition notebook was slammed shut. “We’d be lucky to get a D if that happens.”  

Reese huffed. “I didn’t sign up for the world’s nerdiest soap opera. Can’t you two go bitch at each other somewhere else?”  

They both jerked to stare him down. Pupils like icy daggers.  

He knew better than to say another word. Slowly backing out of the bedroom.  

A mess of paper littered the kitchen table. Sheet music from Dewey’s collection. Framing a keyboard on all sides. The small boy paced back and forth, hands at his hips and lips pursed. Looking over at his victim every few seconds.  

“That’s funny. I could have sworn I said to play that part ‘adagio.’ But maybe I said ‘arthritis’ by accident. Because you’re moving like an old lady!” Dewey grabbed a ruler from somewhere in the mess of booklets and began tapping the table in a steady rhythm. “You hear that? It’s called 'tempo.' If it sounds familiar, it’s because we covered it fifteen lessons ago! Now, go again. Slowly. But fast.”  

Tony rubbed at his hands, shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. It’s just we’ve been at it for three hours straight. I might actually get arthritis at this rate. Can’t I have a break?”  

A sigh. Then, Dewey dropped into his chair. “Fine. You can wash dishes for ten minutes. Then we’re getting back to work.”  

Tony nodded.  

Reese watched the spineless fool start the faucet. Not understanding why he submitted himself to this sort of slave labor. Smiling like an idiot through it all.  

Dewey had taken on the role of piano furor. Drilling concerto after symphony into his promising, new student. Not easing up on his feedback out of a sense of duty, rather than the lure of control. Or so he claimed. Never missing the chance to exercise his iron fist.   

“Wash these dishes… to practice your finger dexterity.”  

“Play this song while I nap… because I can do it in my sleep.”  

“Run down to the store… for piano reasons.”  

It was an enviable amount of control. Reese wished he could do the same.  

He and Tony were no longer at each other’s throats. Now, they nodded whenever they met eyes. And exchanged words when necessary.  

But most of their interaction came from the daily changing of Reese’s bandages. Tony would walk up to Reese and ask how his hands were doing. Reese would mumble something in return and hold them out for cleaning. Then, they’d go do something else, away from one another.  

“And another thing-” Dewey started up once more.  

Reese sped back outside and into the garage, grabbing his dumbbells.  

---  

“This just proves that school dances are a horrible social experiment, designed to make my life in particular a living hell.” Malcolm dropped his butt onto an overturned bucket, sending a speckled cloud of dust into the surrounding air. “Any senior girl would be lucky to take me to prom. They’re just too stupid to realize what they’re missing out on.”  

The two brothers were surrounded by a mess of junk the family had deemed valuable enough to store. Broken bikes, boxes of Christmas decorations, and old furniture. Which their dad had been tasked with sorting and reducing. A spring-cleaning operation, straight from the head of the family. Mom.  

Lois had begun a mission of her own. Doubling her shifts at the Lucky Aide in anticipation of summer break. After all, it never hurt to plump your wallet for whatever mischief the world would bring.  

And, knowing how free her kids were about to become, it was just a question of when and how.  

Malcolm’s scowl was lost on Reese, who had his eyes trained on the rail that opens the garage door. Counting the gears high above as he progressed in his reps. “Malcolm, can you give it a rest? I barely cared the first three times you brought it up.”  

The bitter brunette hesitated at this. For half a second. “It’s like every other junior got invited to prom. Even Stevie’s picking out his tux already.”  

Reese set the bar down on the waiting hooks, sitting up with a huff. “Well, Stevie has something you don’t, believe it or not.”  

“Oh really ? And what’s that?”  

“He knows when to shut up.” Reese sent Malcolm a pointed look. “Besides, the whole cripple thing is big with senior chicks. Let's them feel like they’re doing something nice before graduating. If you were smart, you’d find someone to drive over your legs. You only have a few weeks before prom. And in a few days, only the uggos will be left.”  

His brother stood and waved the dust away from his face. Clicking a button on the wall that brought the garage door to life. The ancient thing whirred and clicked until the backyard was in full view around them. “You don’t think I know that? At this rate, I’ll be lucky to go with some dude in a dress.” Malcolm sinks back onto the dusty bucket. “Who are you taking to prom? You should be unsuspended by then.”  

Reese wiped his forehead with a towel before tossing it over his shoulder. Truth be told, he’d all but forgotten he was a senior. And didn’t have any delusions of nabbing himself a hottie. If anything, he’d stink-bomb the gymnasium and then go down to the reservoir. “I dunno.”  

Just then, the house’s back doors opened and Tony tiptoed out, peeking over his shoulder every few seconds. Stretching his hands before he noticed them watching. “Oh. Hey, guys. Just taking a break. No need to tell Dewey.” He offered them a weak grin.  

Malcolm wasted no time. “Who are you taking to prom? ‘Cause I’m this close to begging you to ask me.”  

Reese was only too glad to pawn Malcolm off on someone else.  

Tony gave another cautious glance before joining them. “Sorry to disappoint, man, but I’m not a senior. I got held back, remember?” He dragged a nearby crate over and took a seat. “I’d have to be invited, too.” Then, after a second, he added. “Which might happen.”  

Reese quirked an eyebrow. But before anyone could ask for more information, the back doors swung open once more.  

Dewey stood there with his arms crossed, an easy smile on his lips. “Did you guys know that Claudio Arrau became a master pianist by sitting around and gossiping instead of practicing? Because I didn’t!”  

“Sorry. Gotta go,” Tony whispered, sprinting away. Knocking over his crate on the way out.  

---  

That evening, everyone gathered for a… less than ideal meal. Bargain meat and leftover Chinese food. Made all the more appetizing by a cool drink of chunky, off-brand Kool-Aid.  

Reese noticed Tony’s absent gaze immediately. He was staring at his meal like he was eating it with his mind. And grinning at nothing every once in a while. Only glancing up when Lois took control of the conversation, before returning to his brain-dead state.  

A quiet buzz drew both Tony and Reese’s attention to below the table. And the blonder of the two smiled, pulling out a cellphone. Fingers tapping away with ridiculous speed. Proving that the piano lessons were paying off.  

“That’s interesting. I didn’t know this dinner was worth texting people over.” Lois tilted her head. “I guess the rules don’t apply to guests.”  

Tony paled and slipped the small device back into his pocket. “Sorry, ma’am.”  

But the smile never budged.  

Reese poked at his noodles, eyes dropping to where the phone had been stashed. Narrowing slowly.  

After everyone finished up, the crowd split and settled into different tasks around the house. Soft conversations in every direction. One between Lois and Tony.  

“Sorry again for texting at the table. It won’t happen again.”  

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”  

“I’ll see you all tomorrow. And thank you for that delightful dinner.” With a grin, the tall boy slipped out the front door and shut it behind himself.  

Reese slowly shuffled over to the window, prying the curtain open just a peek. Hoping to get any clue about Tony’s actions.  

The guy just stood out by the sidewalk for a few minutes. Fingers glued to that stupid phone. Before someone ran up to him. A girl.  

They hugged. But not the way Reese hugged grandma Ida. It was a deep hug, where Tony lifted the girl, sending her red curls into a frenzy as he spun her round. Before gently setting her back onto her sneakered feet.  

A peek of her glasses shined through the heavy darkness. Tinted pink. And there was no mistaking her. The girl from Reese’s history class. The one whose hair he enjoyed tugging on. The one who made a kissy face at him through the window, back when his dad picked him up on that horrible day.  

The one who planted a kiss on Tony’s lips right then and there.  

The one who walked away with Tony, hand-in-hand.  

Chapter Text

Reese chuckled. They were perfect together. A petite, little thing in the arms of her muscled sweetheart. Destined for love and everything else that was great in the world. Playfully tugging each other along. Under whispering street lamps and a sky full of firefly stars.  

A knight carrying his princess into their happily ever after. 

He eventually turned away. On a journey, straight past the door of his cozy, little bedroom. And out the back of the house. Into a quiet meadow of forgotten trinkets and devastated foliage. 

His destination was in sight. The side door of the slumbering garage. Where he would find what he needed most in that moment. If not for an oddity in his path. Just a speck, knocked against the toe of his sock. 

Retrieved between curious fingers. And held an inch from his face. 

It was a stone. A perfect replica of his previous find. The shiny one he’d shown Malcolm. On the day prior to his expulsion. Shaped like twin peaks, with the lower half melting into a point. 

Reese had marveled at its uncanny resemblance to a pair of breasts. Or maybe a round butt, when held upside-down. Now, it just looked like a love heart. 

Until it shattered against the wooden fence that bordered their house. Followed by another. And another. 

Reese huffed, grabbing any stone he could make out in the moonless dark. And slinging them non-stop at the warped planks. Until he was certain the neighbors were all checking outside. But he didn’t stop for their sake. He’d simply run out of ammo and couldn’t locate any more without a flashlight. 

This was bullshit. 

The bandages that sealed his wounds were now dingy. Rubbed with dirt stains and various crumbs that littered the grass he’d torn through. But it didn’t even matter. Reese yanked them off in a messy, thrashing, huffing, red-faced freak out. Flinging the ribbons across the yard. And stomping on them until there wasn’t an inch of them spared from the dirt bath. 

Only then did he stop to think about what he was doing. 

Why did he even care? If Stacy from his history class wanted to throw herself at Tony’s broad chest, that was more than okay with Reese. 

It's not like he had spent countless classes playing with her curls while she was distracted, memorizing the silky texture that played between his fingers. And wondering if she conditioned twice or just had good genes. Working up the nerve to actually give her one of the stupid poems he wrote for her in the margins of his pop quizzes. 

And now he’d been beaten to the punch. By a taller, smarter, and more handsome guy. An asshole that pretended he wanted to be friends with Reese, just so that this moment would sting so much worse. 

Unless…. They had been in on it together. Plotting against him the whole time as the perfect couple. That would explain why they had both blown kisses at him before. Leaving stupid, little clues for him to stress over. 

Hell, it wouldn’t surprise him if Stacy had been the one fueling the rumors to begin with. Telling the whole school what had happened that day between Reese and her man. Spurned on by jealousy that someone had moved in on her territory. 

Well, to hell with it. 

Reese knew better than to let himself be played for a fool. If they wanted to break him, they would have to push a lot stronger than that.  

--- 

There it was. Smoothed out from a crumpled mess that he’d found in the folds of his backpack. One of the quizzes he’d refused to turn in. Tattooed with a red pen to reflect expired emotions. It was a simple poem, but he’d put his soul into it. 

-I broke your ruler so 

-You would have no chance to forget me. 

-I’m not a dentist, but 

-I’ll explore your mouth if you let me. 

Reese had been so proud of it back then. Ready to deliver the love letter, if only a wave of courage could lead him to shore. But it never happened. And he thanked his wuss of a past-self for that. 

Now, it caught the business end of his match. A silent flame rolling up to meet his grip, showering the desk with embers. A smoky sigh of relief bidding that misguided thing farewell.  

It had taken a few days to find. Reese wasn’t sure whether he had it hidden somewhere or it was already in a landfill. But now that question was answered and his brain felt so much roomier as a result. 

“What are you burning?” An elf-y voice carried from across the room. Dewey had been noticeably more annoying over the last few days. Finding his way into anything happening under their roof. On the lookout for something to fill his schedule. 

“None of your business, dipwad.” Was all Reese bothered saying, lighting another match just to watch it dance and fizzle out. 

“Where’s Tony?” Dewey moved to his new question like he’d never been invested in the first. “He promised we’d have a few more lessons this week. And frankly, he could use all the practice he can get.” 

Reese huffed and flicked the charred stick at his brother, nailing him in the forehead. “For the last time, Dewey. I. Don’t. Know.” This had become one of the default questions in the household. Aimed at him not just by the tiny loser, but also his mother and Malcolm. “Keep asking and I’ll show you a new Indian burn I’ve been working on.” He rattled the box of matches. “One that’s a lot less Indian and a lot more burn.” 

And that gets the tiny bastard to back off. 

Reese was glad for the unexplained absence. A lot less headaches to deal with that way. Tony and Stacey could go grope each other somewhere and leave him out of it. Whatever. 

And why the hell did anyone care that that Italian scumbag had finally moved back out? The rest of the family had to be just as tired of him as Reese was. He didn’t have anything to contribute. 

Dewey pursed his lips and turned back around. “Was it the soup? Did Tony find out what you did to it?” 

Reese made sure to aim his punch right where the match had left a speck of ash. 

--- 

“It’s been a week. And still nothing!” Malcolm had lured Reese out into the back yard with a small, foam football he found in  a rose bush on his way home from school. Offering to toss it back and forth for a while, knowing his brother was bored of just striking matches and staring at the ceiling. But the throwing had only lasted a few minutes before becoming half-hearted flinging, and, eventually, just passing it back and forth. “I mean, am I so horrible that none of the senior girls can even consider asking me?” 

The ball clung to a mist of sweat on Reese’s palms. He rolled it around, taking in the scaly texture printed on its body, and chewing his lower lip. Massive clouds drifted overhead. “Probably.” He mumbled. “I really don’t know why you’re so hung up on this. You’re gonna be a senior next year. Can’t you just wait and ask someone yourself?” 

Life had been a flip-flop of breaking things and getting grounded for as long as Reese could remember. A few fires. A few lectures. A few lessons lost on him. 

So, it wasn’t too surprising he’d forgotten this was his final year of high school. He’d chosen to put off the stress nausea for some unmarked future occasion. But now, the end of this free ride was coming. No more lazy afternoons, glued to the couch. No more raiding the fridge in the middle of the night. No more running away laughing from his problems. 

He'd seen it once before. A lonely apartment. Surrounded by lonely losers. And a lonely loop of work and sleep. Could he handle it again? 

His older brother, Francis, had gotten lucky. He had his wife Piama. And interesting jobs. And all the luck in the world. Didn’t matter how badly he screwed up. He always landed on his feet. Reese would be lucky to land on his neck. 

Malcolm huffed. “That’s not the same, Reese. If I get asked, I get to go and enjoy prom with none of the responsibilities. But if I’m the one asking, I’ll just look like a desperate loser and end up paying for everything myself.” 

Reese rolled his eyes. That was rich coming from the genius of the family. He had colleges fighting over him like dogs, and he wasn’t even graduating yet. He could pick a job at random and have it handed to him on a silver platter. Why was he was so worried about some stupid dance? 

If anyone should be that panicked, it should be Reese. He didn’t have any school experiences worth remembering. Every party he’d ever been to, he’d snuck into. No friends to invite him. He had no accomplishments. No sports trophies. And, coming up next, no hot date for prom. 

He dug his fingers into the flesh of the football, until his nails pierced through. Before letting the butchered toy drop onto the stained driveway. The neon blue escaping into a patch of bone-dry weeds, even snapping a few. “Just forget about it, dude. Nothing good ever happens for guys like us.” 

“Hi! Is anyone back there?” From beyond the gate, out in the front yard, came a voice high and sweet. “I think I heard someone.” 

Both boys locked eyes and shrugged, Malcolm took the initiative to check it out. Reese stayed back and parked his butt on the picnic bench, below the tangle of dead vines they called an awning. 

The younger brother poked his head out, only for his eyes to grow wide. Mouth dry. “Hi,” was only word he could he croak out. Every underused muscle in his body straining to correct his posture. 

The mysterious voice giggled. “I’m so glad you’re home! You are just the boy I’ve been looking for.” 

“I am?” Malcolm’s voice cracked with the question, but he quickly played it off. Leaning against the chipped white paint of the wooden gate. Striking a pose that he hoped read as laid back. “I mean- Yes. I am.” A smile grew over his face while he looked her over. “You’re a senior, right? I think I’ve seen you around at school. I imagine you’re here to ask me something.” 

More giggling. “Oh my god. I totally am. I’ve actually been wondering for the last few days.” Reese couldn’t see who was talking from his perch, but he did catch her slender hand pat Malcolm on the chest. “You’re like, some sort of mind reader.” 

Malcolm raked a hand through his hair. A modest grin breaking free. “What can I say? It’s a gift.” 

The breeze rustled a few withered leaves from the nearby trees, spinning them down gently to the driveway. 

“So, do you know where he is?” The girl asked. 

A moment passed before Malcolm faltered. Quite visibly. “Do I know where who is?” 

“Tony. I haven’t seen him in a while, and he’s not answering my calls.” Her tone lost some energy as she explained. 

And, in true Malcolm fashion, that earned her a scoff. “What? Why would I know anything about that.” 

“Well, it’s just that Tony’s been hanging out here a lot lately, and he’s mentioned you a few times, so I figured this was a good place to start.” The girl continued. 

“Wait. So, you’re not here to ask me to prom?” Malcolm narrowed his eyes and scowled. “And what do you mean Tony’s been talking about me?” 

An awkward giggle. “Um… Why would I ask you to prom? Look, I’m just trying to get a hold of Tony. He mentioned he had a new friend named Reese. That’s you, right?” 

Reese watched his brother deflate into a miserable, human raisin. Face creasing into his usual mask of misery as he shoved the gate open the rest of the way. “Nope. You’re looking for my brother. That’s him over there.” 

A finger was pointed Reese’s way. And in walked Stacy from his history class. A headband holding back her rosy curls.  Strawberry lips and a denim jacket catching the evening sunbeams. 

Lord give him strength.