Chapter Text
At 15 years old, Victor had just gotten in his first fight. He sat in the hallway to the right of the office door, waiting for whatever negotiation was happening behind closed doors to end. He rubbed the bruised side of his jaw, trying to stretch out the soreness in his mouth. A boy of similar age sat to the left of the office, about a body’s width away, sending wary glances in his direction. Victor forgot what his name was…James? Jake? Something starting with a J… maybe. He was feeling usually impatient, the urge to walk off was beginning to feel very appealing.
He looked straight at the boy, resting his head in his hand, amused by how his classmate fidgeted on his chair. He tapped his feet on the carpeted floor to stave off the growing boredom, studying the boy with little interest. Jack was it? Whatever it was, he finally noticed Victor’s stare and shifted in his seat.
Victor tilted his head slightly to the side and continued staring straight into him.
The boy looked angry as his brows furrowed, he moved his shoulders and knees until they were angled in. He finally spoke up. “Stop that.”
Victor blinked. “Stop what?”
Annoyance flitted over the boy’s face, cheeks reddening. “Staring at me like a fucking weirdo? What’s wrong with you anyway? First, you spread rumors about me that weren't even true and then lied about everything? Now you got me in trouble for punching you 'cause God knows how much you deserve it with your stuck-up attitude.”
“Why are you accusing me of spreading false rumors? It’s been proven true and everyone saw you walking me to the back of the school didn’t they?”
The boy's mouth gaped open, seeming to want to cuss him out but the sound died in his throat.
The door finally opened, a rush of air carrying the sound of polite laughter and empty promises. The Vale's in their designer clothes smiled graciously, accepting apologies from the other set of parents. Victor released a small exhale, taking it as his cue to stand up beside his parents. His dad put his hands on Victor's back and pushed him forward until he could take a good look at the boy’s parents. Their smiles looked strained like they were trying their best to be so painfully nice. He hated how fake people could be.
“Well, I guess that concludes the little scuffle we had, why don't you two shake hands on it?" The principal stood behind the door frame, feigning cheerfulness. He quickly gestured for the boys to make up for their fight. Victor shrugged, bringing his arm up and holding out his hand. The boy begrudgingly took it, his hand squeezing hard. “Now Jason–” Oh, it was Jason. Names were hard to remember, “–as you know we have a no-tolerance policy on assault against other students, but Mr. and Mrs. Vale have been very generous with your sentence, and even Victor agreed that you would only need to be suspended for a week. This won’t be put on your school records at all. I'm sure you both have learned your lesson since this is only the first infraction but I expect you to carry on as better individuals, understand?”
A few other pleasantries were exchanged soon after, some of which made Victor want to roll his eyes, puke, or do both. Jason just refused to look at him, his face clouded with anger. It was fine, he supposed, at least he got to know what a real punch felt like (not good). His dad made a joke about the boy reading their self-help book which earned the adults a few chuckles and soon Victor was pulled away from the awkward setting and into the school parking lot.
...
Strips of road blurred underneath him, the ride home being suspiciously quiet. Victor kept his arm propped up on the window ledge of the car door, his head resting on his hand as the constant bumps and turns shook his vision. He didn't feel satisfied, not yet exactly. He had only wanted to cause a little drama for the boring excuse of a school, it was supposed to be something small anyway, he didn’t mean to get roped into it too or get anybody in trouble. It wasn’t as bad as he thought though, Jason was one of those kids on a scholarship, someone no one would care to sympathize with. He was a natural troublemaker, after all, there were already rumors that he used to steal things from people, although that was never proven. But it proved to work because his classmates often kept a wide berth away from him. Not that Victor had anything to do with it.
He’d only wanted to see how rumors could affect someone’s reputation and behavior, it was supposed to be on a small scale, but the rumors he made continued to reverberate throughout the school, students adding more details, entirely making up new ones. It was all traced back to Victor, of course, Jason wanted to confront him over the rumors behind the school building after classes ended, and when Victor promptly denied any association with it, he got hit.
If he had been more careful, he could've avoided that interaction. Next time he would be smarter, at least he could twist the incident in his favor. He wondered what his parents were thinking. Were they trying to find words to reprimand him? Simply speechless? He had no clue, the look on their faces was neutral. He hated not knowing what they were feeling, it would be easier to plan what to do or say ahead of time.
Instead, the silence stretched the whole ride home where his dad had rolled into the driveway and parked. Victor waited for them to open their doors and head into the house but a heavy sigh left his dad’s mouth. He braced for a lecture. “Victor, I know your teenage hormones are making you act out but can you please behave yourself for us? We're about to release the second volume, your mom and I. The media is going to swarm like flies and I don't need you being on the news, okay?”
Victor rolled his eyes.
“You can tell us anything honey," his mom added gently. “We'll always be here for you, you don't have to go through all these confusing emotions alone. I'm sorry that we have been lacking as a family unit, but we aren't the only ones that are trying. You have a responsibility to participate too. We've always loved and supported you and maybe that book we’ve been writing has been pulling our attention away but that doesn't mean we still care.”
Victor drummed his fingers on the ledge, itching to get out. “Can I go?"
His mom’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
His dad waved him off with a tired hand. “You can go, we’ll talk about it later.”
...
Victor tapped the eraser side of his pencil on his lips, trying to brainstorm a sentence for his English assignment. His eyes strayed to the forms of his parents on their pristine white couch, the large TV a warble of unintelligible voices. He was about to return to his homework when the flash of Breaking News caught his eyes and he stayed a little longer to see what had happened.
“There’s been a report of a serious car crash…”
“That’s unfortunate,” his dad remarked. “Oh, doesn’t that face look familiar?”
“Wasn’t it about that terrible accident at the church? That poor boy, maybe we should consider adopting him. Tragedy after tragedy…” his mom added. “Maybe we should follow along with his case and write something about it while the media is trending.”
“And branch out into a new genre? Let’s not, we still have a couple more books planned out. We should…”
Victor turned back to his homework, rereading the question again, frustrated that his attention was taken away. The assignment was to work on their creativity and whatnot. Mr. Gall always had a knack for making his students think out of the box, except Victor found all his peers’ out-of-the-box thinking to fall inside the borders.
If you had a superpower, what would it be? Don’t settle with ordinary ones, be creative!
He thought about it. People always chose mundane ones like flying or invisibility, they were useful in their own ways he supposed. But nothing new came to mind, he wasn’t a very creative person now that he thought about it. Victor circled back to what happened earlier today, he got punched and it didn’t feel very good. Maybe getting healing powers? No, that probably would be put in the ordinary section. What about-
His parents left the couch and his dad came up to him, patting his back with a heavy hand. “Finished with homework yet?” he was acting like he cared about him which irked Victor more than he would've liked.
“Dinner yet? What would you like?” his mom offered. “I have spaghetti leftover from yesterday, or maybe…"
Victor grumbled and squared his shoulders, hiding the sheet of paper under his arm. Maybe getting rid of people so he could be alone in sweet silence was an idea. That sounded more pessimistic than he needed it to be. Whatever, everything seemed annoying these days, all he wanted to do was turn everything down like the volume dials of a radio. Wouldn't the world be more peaceful this way?
“Victor,” a stern voice intervened. “Your mom was asking you what you wanted to eat.”
“I don't care," he muttered, chewing on the eraser part of the pencil. “I'm not hungry anyway.” Victor grabbed his binder and papers and headed for his room. He could hear the sighs of his disappointed parents, wondering what they had done wrong to raise such a rebellious son. Nevermind what they thought, he never particularly cared anyway, they never seemed to care about him even if they said so. They’ll be back to nurturing their self-help books as soon as they were done with their obligated parental duties.
Once he was in his room, he spread out the assignment on his table and was back to having his back hunched over the assignment and lamp pointed down at his head. Victor skipped the question and made a mental note to go back later, it was taking too long for him to think about something. Still, it lingered on his mind, rooting itself like a stubborn splinter. He leaned back on his chair, letting the two front legs lift into the air, suspending him in a careful balance. He let himself wander on, closing his eyes to imagine something, anything.
What would it feel like to be God? Victor never really found interest in religion, but it was funny to think that people could believe in something they couldn’t see. People were so gullible, so easily manipulated, it could be understood that they could be led to believe in a higher power. Life would be so much better if he were a god, able to do anything, make anything, be anything (without consequences either). He leaned forward and scribbled down his answer.
My superpower would be to manipulate matter and minds.
Maybe if superpowers existed, he could have parents that truly loved him, rather than ones that pretended to be.