Chapter Text
Considering the way the Nighthawks were screaming outside the window, it was only reasonable to assume there was nothing unusual that’d be going on with the island. On the 13th of October 2018, a Saturday, it was the cry of the birds native to the island that woke a 16-year-old with a start. They were rowdier. They were louder than they’d ever been before, which was difficult to overcome considering how often they screamed. He had been hoping to sleep in, considering it was the weekend, but the birds decided otherwise on behalf of him. He sat up, moving one of the curtains out the way and opened his window. He shooed them away, hoping that they wouldn’t return. The birds flew away, heading back off to their actual home in the Witchwoods.
He rubbed his eyes, clearing the sleep from them. Falling back against his pillows, he knew there was no point in trying to get back to sleep. Fucking Nighthawks. Fucking Hatchetfield. Still, while the town was at peace, he allowed his eyes to flutter shut. He exhaled. Oh, God, he hated Hatchetfield. He hated living there. He hated the people because the people hated him. Even the things he had viewed as positives all his life weren’t enough to save him from his internal hatred.
At least it wasn’t a Monday, though. For two days in a typical working week, he would be able to avoid the likes of his tormentors. He’d be able to hide inside for the few days, recuperate from the lack of social energy he currently had. He could finally rest. Forget about homework for a few hours, he was going to prioritise himself. For once. Even though it was hard for him to put himself in that mindset, that he was just as important as other people, (even if others would say otherwise,) he was beginning to find it easier and easier to find reasons as to why he was important.
His eyes reopened. He grabbed one of his curtains with his right hand, tugging on it so it’d open. Then, he reached for his phone. An old, shitty model of an iPhone that was a definite hand me down no matter what his brother would tell him. He didn’t mind. It did the job. Made memories, gave him the ability to text people, made sure he didn’t get stranded in the middle of Hatchetfield during rush hour. Mainly, he used it to tell the time. Right now, the time was about to hit 7:30. Curse being an early riser.
Senses finally allowed him to listen in to whatever was going on outside of his bedroom. He could hear the sizzling of something cooking in the kitchen. Breakfast, he assumed, though he knew he likely wouldn’t be eating it. He could hear the radio on as well, not that it mattered. If there was anything interesting going on, he couldn’t hear it. It was too muffled for him to understand. He didn’t strain himself in trying to listen. He let himself get on with it.
In his pyjamas, he pulled back the covers. He slipped into the pair of slippers he kept by his bed, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table. He approached the calendar on his wall, crossing off the day. Considering what the date was, he knew it’d be impossible to forget it, but routine told him he had to cross off the calendar before he stepped foot into the main apartment to get breakfast. He opened the door, stepping out where he was greeted by the smell of bacon and coffee, like he was every morning.
He shuffled to the couch, lying down. He looked over to the kitchen area, where he could see his older brother, and legal guardian, busy at work making breakfast. He seemed concerned with what was playing on the radio, but out of his drowsy state, he couldn’t find it in him to currently care. Today was going to be a good day. He wasn’t going to let anything ruin it. That included not listening in to the shitty reports coming through on the radio. Though he wasn’t going to ask what was going on, his mind began to wonder what was happening. Some other shooting, he supposed. That was usually what it was. After all, it was America. What else was new?
The other occupant of the apartment turned around, half jumping out of his skin when he saw his younger brother. He gripped the counter that looked out to the living room and the front door, holding his chest with his right hand. “Jesus fucking Christ, Petey. Ya need to stop doin’ that. You’re like a ghost. Ya just fuckin’ appear whenever you feel like it. No one ever sees ya comin’.”
“Yeah? I wish I was a ghost, it’s better than being seen all the time.”
“Ya don’t mean that.”
“Fine. Invisible then.”
“Hey, come on now. If you weren’t living your life, you wouldn’t be my brother!”
“Yeah. I dunno if that’s a positive or a negative, Ted.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“We can both agree on the fact you try your best which makes you better than mom and dad.”
“Exactly. And you love me, really.”
“Eh, sometimes.”
Ted Spankoffski turned back to the stove, turning it down. “I just got done with breakfast, alright? I’ll come join ya out there.”
“Yeah, okay.” Pete finally put his glasses on, watching as his brother walked out with two plates. Ted had his usual of eggs and bacon. Pete had his usual of toast. Just toast. He took his breakfast from his older brother before a minor detail struck him. “…why do you look like you’re going to work? Today’s your day off.”
“…I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”
“Ted!”
“Okay, okay, calm down and listen.” He said quickly, setting his plate on his lap once he’d sat down. “Davidson called us all in cuz Paul didn’t turn in his fucking statistical analysis. That, and we’re understaffed, again. I told Davidson what day it was and he’s letting me come back home at 12 so we still got the rest of the day together. All those things I promised ya, we’re gonna do. You got it?”
“…you promise me you didn’t just pick up an extra shift because of money again, right?”
Ted shook his head. “Not on a day like today I wouldn’t. And you know that.”
“Promise?”
“…I promise, Pete. Not today. I know it’s been happening more lately, but I promise, that isn’t the reason. It’s all because Paul’s a fucking idiot and got us all called in despite everyone else doing their job.”
“Don’t you tell people to turn their computers on and off again?”
“Half the time it works.”
“And what happens if it doesn’t?”
“Then I give them alternate solutions. Look, I don’t get paid just to tell people to turn their devices on and off again.”
“Hmm. Sure.”
Ted looked at him. “I’ll try and get off earlier if I can, okay?”
“…yeah, whatever.” Pete turned to eat his toast as Ted fell quiet.
Eventually, Ted stood, heading back to the kitchenette, placing his plate in the sink. After clearing it up, he left it on the side to dry. He dug a hand in his pocket, placing fifteen dollars on the counter. “Don’t stay all cooped up today, alright? Go treat yourself.”
Pete glanced at the money. “…that’s parking money, Ted-“
“Nah. It’s fine. I got it covered.”
“Ted!”
“I gotta go or else I’m gonna be late and then Davidson’s gonna have his foot up my ass.” He headed to the door, looking at Pete. “Enjoy today. Okay? I’ll be back at 12, hopefully sooner.”
“Yeah…I know.”
“And keep yourself safe.”
“I will.”
Ted left the apartment then. Pete sighed, slumping on the couch. How the hell was he gonna spend the day when he’d had an almost perfect plan? With that disruption, what was he supposed to do now?
Well, he turned the radio off for starters. Something about a meteor. His anxiety was already at a peak due to the change in routine, he didn’t need anything else to throw him off. Then he cleaned his plate up, leaving it to dry on top of Ted’s. After that, he went and checked his blood sugar levels to make sure that he wasn’t in a dangerous zone. He wasn’t. In fact, he was in a safer area than he had been for a while. Then he eyed up the fifteen bucks on the counter.
He knew why Ted left him the fifteen bucks. It was a pity present, honestly. A pity present on behalf of Paul Matthews because the man was physically unable to turn in a report on time, it seemed. Pete knew Ted treasured Paul as a friend, but a week never went by without Ted mumbling about how Paul forgot to turn in the reports which would fuck up the next week. But then again, Paul forgetting to turn in a report had never meant the others needed to go in on a Saturday before. Why today? Why was it, that on today of all days, Ted had to go into work for an extra day. At least the upside was that Ted would (hopefully) be paid for it. What did that even mean? Being able to pay off rent without the fear of being evicted? Or…
Or Pete could afford better drinks.
He left the money on the side while he vanished to his bedroom. When he re-emerged, he was dressed in tan pants that were being held up by red suspenders, a red crewneck over the top of his white button up and a matching bow tie. He swept his hair out of his face, neatening it up. On his way out, he grabbed the spare key and snatched up the money. Though Ted couldn’t be with him to celebrate all day, that wasn’t going to stop him from having a decent morning.
Pete Spankoffski got halfway down the street before realising it was October, and that a jumper wasn’t going to cut the cold for much longer. He hugged himself for extra warmth but made his way to Main Street. He turned a corner. He peered in the alleyway between one of the old abandoned offices and Beanie’s. Usually, the weird Homeless Guy would be there, but he wasn’t. For some reason, that disturbed Peter even further. That was pushing him more out of routine than before and he didn’t feel comfortable about it. Maybe stepping outside was a dangerous idea all together. If he felt this unnerved, why didn’t he turn around and go straight back to the apartment? Right as he was about to chicken out, he stopped. He promised himself a treat. Who was gonna stop him from getting that hot chocolate? Nobody. Nobody but himself.
He peered in Beanie’s. The baristas seemed way too happy today, and he figured he didn’t want to kill their mood, so off he went, walking another block until he was at Starbucks. He got in line, ordered an overpriced hot chocolate, paid the money and exited the store. He got himself a large. He deserved that extra hot chocolate today. Today was gonna be a good day. Today was gonna be a fucking good day.
Pete Spankoffski turned, deciding to take a shortcut back to the apartment. He walked around the corner, heading around the side of the Starbucks. He was about to pass another alleyway, three trash cans oddly close to the entrance when he felt something grab his wrist. He went to cry out, the grip on his hot chocolate tightening as he hit the ground. He caught himself with one hand, more focused on not spilling the drink he’d just got. He didn’t want to waste Ted’s money. He didn’t even want to think about what Ted would say.
“Are you okay?”
He looked up to see the look of fear in his older brother’s eyes. Considering the fact Ted’s voice was an odd whisper while in a public space, Pete’s anxiety only worsened.
“Ted?”
“Are you okay, Peter?!”
“Y-Yes!”
“Where’d you come from?”
“The apartment! I went to Starbucks just now and-.“ Ted’s arms wrapped around him, and he was tugged into Ted’s body. Pete blinked, awkwardly readjusting his glasses. “…Ted?”
“Just keep quiet, Petey.”
“Ted, why are you hiding behind trash cans?”
“Pete, please, keep quiet, okay? Drink your hot chocolate, dorkus.”
“I wanna know what’s going on and-“
Ted flipped them around, moving Pete in the centre of the trash cans, Ted on the outside. “Let me see your hand.”
Pete held his palm out to Ted. “I promise I’m fine-“
“He’s not singing, Ted.” A sweeter voice said.
“…What? Ted why…why are your colleagues here? Is this also Paul’s fault?”
“Oh, Paul’ll be fucking ecstatic when he hears about this.” Ted picked gravel from his brother’s hand.
“What’s going on?!”
Ted looked at him. “You gotta be quiet, okay? Cuz there’s something weird going on, and we don’t know what. We’ve already called for help but right now, this is the safest place you can be aside from the apartment. And don’t forget, whatever happens, you’ve got me. Okay?”
“…Okay.”
“Good. Now shut up and drink your hot chocolate.”
Pete barely had time to process the information before Ted flicked his forehead, returning to look out for anything, or anyone. He shrunk down, bringing his knees to his chest, allowing the adults to hide him. He sipped on his hot chocolate. Sure, something weird was going on…but it wasn’t gonna ruin his day.
He was 16 now. Things had to be okay.