Chapter Text
It had been an average evening for Casey Jones; he woke up later than he was supposed to and almost didn’t bike to school on time, didn’t pay much attention in class, school finally ended, he did the one thing at school he liked, which was hockey practice, and then he biked back home. Being gone all day at a place he hated was tiring, so the one thing he really looked forward to after practice was going home and taking the rest of the afternoon to sleep off whatever had happened that day.
Normally, his dad was either not home, busy with work, or on a rare occasion, he was doing something like watching TV in the living room. It wasn’t usual for him to be home when Casey got back, but today was one of those exceptions as he went up the stairs to his third-floor apartment, opening the worn black door to see that all of the lights were on.
His heart immediately dropped at the realization. Sure, his sister was usually there when he got back, but she didn’t turn on the lights to the whole place like his dad did. It was almost telltale because it felt like his dad was watching him, and anything he did wrong might be noticed and lead to him getting yelled at for being a bad kid.
Okay, so that meant he should just bring his stuff to his room and get there before his dad saw him and found something to fight about. Check on his little sister who was usually in her room too, go to his room, try to sleep, and don’t mess with him.
Casey stood still in the entryway for several seconds, gripping his backpack and looking around the apartment. The TV wasn’t on so he wasn’t in the living room, he wasn’t in the kitchen, and all he could hear was the sound of himself breathing quietly. Okay. Maybe he could avoid him, then.
He didn’t even take his shoes off before making a beeline for the bedroom hallway, his heart pounding against his ribs telling him to move faster before something happened-
“Arnold, could you come here for a minute?”
Arnold. It was his dad. His whole body froze at the deep sound of his dad’s voice coming from the living room. Oh, he was there without the TV on. Obviously - why hadn’t he checked? He was being stupid. His dad just wanted to talk to him, so he needed to stop being stupid, because it was probably fine, so he needed to just go over there now.
Casey’s thoughts went by a million miles a second as electric terror seized his whole body. He’d started moving before he could process what he was doing, turning away from the safety of his bedroom and entering the living room instead.
The fear he felt when he saw the figure of his dad sitting on the couch in silence was enough to make him vomit or pass out or something right then, but he just kept his eyes glued to the ground as he paused in the entryway, stiffly holding the strap of his bag.
“No, come here.”
He sounded annoyed. Casey didn’t want to make him annoyed. He didn’t want to see the look on his face either, because it was probably even worse. He didn’t have to look to know the way his dad was staring at him, a reminder of how he couldn’t hide at all. He just had to get this over with. So he took a few slow steps and stood in front of the man, doing anything not to move or look at him or mess up somehow.
It was quiet. They were both quiet. His dad must’ve been judging him. What did he do? Why was he so annoyed? Was he supposed to say something first? Even if he wanted to, he probably couldn’t get his mouth to open. He just wanted to run to his room where nobody could bug him or see him or pick him apart.
His dad let out a long sigh, unmoving before he spoke in a firm voice. “Do you know why I called you in here?”
Casey frowned slightly, thinking. His thoughts wouldn’t cooperate; all that was running through his head was the fact that he was in trouble, and he was going to get yelled at, but if he didn’t figure out what he’d done fast enough, it would make things worse.
Casey didn’t say anything, just shaking his head slightly. No.
“Oh, you don’t?” His voice had a bitter lilt to it, a smile that leaked into his words like venom. It made Casey’s stomach churn. When the teenager still didn’t say anything, he continued.
“Well, I feel like your grades are something you would know about, right? Do you happen to know anything about that?”
This was about his grades. Casey knew they were bad; he didn’t study, he didn’t turn anything in, he rarely did classwork, and he never did homework. It was normally fine enough. Maybe he was sent to detention or something, but he was too stupid to think that his dad wouldn’t find out. He found out about a lot of things; why would school be any different? If his grades were bad, then his dad definitely knew how stupid he was.
He still couldn’t bring himself to say anything back in fear that might make him angrier. He just wanted to hide. Casey finally got his mouth to move. It was dry.
“I - I dunno,” he mumbled barely above a whisper, a sharp pang of how disappointed he must have made his dad striking him like lightning. His eyes began to sting slightly. If he was about to cry over something that was entirely his fault because he couldn’t get his shit together, then he really was pathetic, so he needed to stop.
“Oh, you don’t know? You “don’t know”, even though you’re the one responsible for keeping your grades up? Do you have any explanation as to why you’re failing every class?”
The man’s voice started to grow louder as he threw his hands up out of the edge of his vision. He was about to start shouting at him. Casey just kept studying the beige carpet beneath his feet, trying to just wait for whatever was coming to him.
“Well? Answer me."
“I’m sorry-”
The words slipped out before he had time to think about it; a reflex. He was sorry, he didn’t think that he was messing up so badly, and he wished he had done something about it before now because he was about to regret that he’d been too lazy to get anything done.
“Oh, you’re sorry?” he repeated. Casey heard the sound of the sofa creaking. Oh. He was standing up. He felt every muscle in his body lock immediately.
“”Sorry” doesn’t cut it. You can’t just say “sorry” and expect me to forgive you when it’s been months of this, Arnold.”
Arnold.
“If you were actually sorry, you would’ve done something about it instead of standing here and trying to get out of facing the consequences.”
He saw his dad’s dirty worn sneakers moving toward him at a steady pace as his looming figure approached. The teenager just hunched his shoulders slightly, trying to make himself small enough to avoid his probing gaze when he couldn’t run away from it.
“You know that actions have consequences, right? I kept saying, “if you don’t get it together, you’re gonna pay for it.” Well, you didn’t get it together. What do you want from me, huh? You expect me to just let you run around like you own the place because you can’t pull it together? For fuck’s sake, you’re seventeen! You aren’t a kid anymore, you have to stop acting like a little kid and grow up!”
Casey’s heart plummeted when his voice was loud enough to ring in his ears as he now stood directly over him. A wave of biting shame rushed over him at those words, only making his eyes burn even more. No, he couldn’t start crying. He needed to just accept that he was getting what he deserved after he was an idiot and didn’t do the bare minimum. He chewed on his bottom lip, shaking slightly as he curled his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms. He couldn’t cry now.
“Well? Aren’t you gonna say something!?”
“I-I’m sorry! I was trying-”
“No! Stop it with the stupid apologies, Arnold!”
Arnold.
He felt his dad’s hot breath on his neck as he seethed over him. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. Before he could try harder to stop it from happening, hot tears were pooling in his vision.
“Oh, so now you feel bad? You only feel bad when you have to admit you’re being a selfish irresponsible dick, huh?”
With every stinging word, the tears came faster, spilling and staining his face with tracks as a shaky breath escaped him. He dug into his palms harder. That hurt too. He was sickeningly, overwhelmingly guilty, and sorry, and it ached.
“You know what? I’ve had enough of this. You don’t do shit around here, and then you don’t tell me where you’re going, and I even let you do hockey and go out and do whatever the hell you’re doing and you aren’t even grateful! Am I your dad, or what!? You don’t think I’ve given you anything!?”
“That’s not true!” he choked out, fighting past the sobs that were threatening to escape him. “I promise, Dad. I’m really sorry-!”
“Just shut up!”
“Dad, please just listen to me!”
He felt his paralyzing fear be replaced by something that burned hot in his chest. He didn’t understand - why didn’t he understand? He just wanted to explain himself, and he wasn’t listening.
“I didn’t mean to do it-”
“No, you listen! You really wanna talk back when I’m bringing up your behavior!? Just accept that you messed up and fix it, Arnold-”
“Stop calling me that!”
Something snapped in him at Arnold. He finally looked up at the other, tears coming to a stop; he couldn’t take it anymore. And finally, he saw his dad’s face.
He was an aged man, with wrinkles etched into his features. His eyes were dark brown, more often than not hazy with intoxication of some kind. But right now, all Casey could see was pure rage.
He wasn’t annoyed. He was angry.
Their gazes met, and any kind of urge he had to fight back immediately dissipated under the man’s stare. He looked so furious and confused. But now he couldn’t look away, like a deer caught in headlights.
“... Stop calling you what? Stop calling you Arnold?” he slowly questioned, raising his eyebrows as he gave a dry chuckle before stepping back, finally.
“Stop calling you by your name? What would you make me call you instead of your name?”
Something about the way he said that made something uncomfortable worm around in his stomach. That was stupid. He was being stupid for caring about that. But now he couldn’t back out.
He paused, realizing what he’d done with horror before he quietly responded, eyes wide.
“...Casey…” he breathed, feeling incredibly small again at the judgemental stare his dad gave him for several seconds, frowning.
“Casey,” he repeated like the word didn’t sit right on his tongue. “What, is there something wrong with your actual name? Do you want me to use your middle name like I’m your friend or something?”
Casey didn’t respond, just watching him, ready to do anything to prepare for his next move. He shouldn’t have even asked to try to use something different to begin with. He should have just been quiet and not made things worse because his first name made him feel weird, which was totally dumb and he probably made everything way worse because he couldn’t read the fucking room and keep his feelings to himself like normal.
“Well, here’s a news flash. I’m your dad, not your friend. And I think you need a little refresher about what that means.”
His blood immediately turned to ice. That could mean he was about to do any number of things, but it sounded like it was about to be really, really bad.
“Sons are supposed to give their dads respect. Do you know what that means, Arnold?”
Casey felt another bout of hurt wash over him, his eyes watering all over again at just one word; his eyes watering all over again at what was probably about to happen. He couldn’t do anything.
“What that means,” he continued without pause, clenching his jaw, “is that you don’t talk back, you don’t make bullshit excuses when you mess up, you don’t just say "sorry" instead of actually doing something, and you don’t ask me to use some stupid nickname for you. You say thank you because I give you and your sister a place to sleep with school and food and your own rooms, but you can’t even do that, and now you’re disrespecting me because you’re a selfish excuse for a son!”
The man bent down and yelled, only a few inches from his face. Casey flinched, looking downward again when he couldn’t stop a small choked sob from escaping.
His dad went silent, backing away with a strained sigh before quickly reapproaching him.
“You know what? I - I can’t do this anymore. With the crying and the excuses and just - all of this! If you can’t be a decent kid, maybe I need to teach you a lesson!”
Suddenly, he felt a firm grasp that sent pain shooting up his forearm as he was yanked back, hard.
“No - no, stop it!”
Casey’s cries for help were useless as feet thrashed against the carpet. He was being dragged across the room.
“If you can’t learn to appreciate what I’ve given you, then maybe you need to see what it’s like to have nothing! Why don’t you try spending the night outside without me there to hold your hand!?”
Oh, wait.
Oh no.
“Dad - let go, please, stop!”
Through his uncontrollable sobs, he tried to kick and punch against anything he could reach and pry his fingers off, neither of which did anything but tighten the already hard grip he had on his arm. It felt like the bone was about to snap in two. The teenager let out a cry of pain, panicking when he couldn’t do anything to stop the fact that he was about to be thrown out.
At some point in the blur of time that passed in his frenzy to escape, the front door had been opened. And then Casey was hit with cold winter air as he was thrown down onto the front steps, meeting the even colder abrasive concrete.
“Come back when you learn how to take what you can get instead of just thinking about yourself!”
And then the door slammed shut.
Now he was alone.
He remained still, tears streaming down his face as his whole body shook. He stared fearfully at the door as if his dad was going to come back out and hurt him some more.
He didn’t. Now it was just Casey. And he couldn’t go back home. He was alone.
Casey didn’t know much time had passed when he lay curled on the ground in dead silence before it truly hit him what had just happened.
Well.
He had to go somewhere.
Shaking uncontrollably, he unsteadily got to his feet with quiet sniffles, feeling everything pass by in a haze as his feet carried him down the three flights of stairs.
Where was he supposed to go now? He didn’t have anywhere else he could just… go. Maybe he would just have to find somewhere outside. That was really stupid.
But maybe he deserved it. Maybe his dad was right. He didn’t even have a bed right now. If he hadn’t slacked off and tried to argue with him, this wouldn’t even be happening. This was happening because of him.
The sidewalk was dark and empty due to the freezing cold temperatures. It felt like it was nipping at him from a distance as he exited the apartment building altogether.
Could he call anyone? He was at least lucky enough that he still had his backpack. He at least had his phone and a charger.
Maybe he could ask April. But his dad knew April. What if he changed his mind and wanted to find him again? Her place wasn’t safe. His dad could find him there.
The teenager stood there in a strange fog, unmoving as he flatly stared at the road in front of him.
The only other friends he had were the turtles. But would they even let him in? At least that was one thing he’d managed to keep a secret from his dad. He probably looked so pitiful right now, though. He didn’t want to freak them out when he could probably handle himself.
But did he really want to handle himself?
No. He didn’t.
Even if he wanted to deal with this alone, it felt like he wasn’t really in control of his body anymore. Casey half-wondered whether it was a bad idea or not as he opened his phone, watching himself pull up the “D” names in his contacts list before selecting a phone number. Oh. He was going to call someone, then.
His phone was held up to his ear as the phone rang, standing abandoned in the middle of the sidewalk as he tried to will his hand to stop shaking.
The dial tone stopped, and there was a small click.
...
“Hello?”