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Almost every school child is happy today, it being the last day of school. Faramir is happy for a slightly different reason - it’s his last day at this school. Minas Tirith’s finest private school, with impeccable attendance and a perfect clean slate. If you don’t count the incidents that aren’t reported. Faramir finds the incidents that haven’t been reported are incredibly important things, seeing as it’s usually him who ends up with the bruises and blood stained top, but it’s not like he’s had the courage to report these problems either.
He’s leaving. Like a coward.
And he’s not even being honest about it - how could he be? Boromir loved this school, his father loved this school. The kids had treated him well when Boromir had been here. Mostly well, or at least never too poorly. And Boromir would ask questions; why hadn’t Faramir told him anything was going on? He can’t even answer that question (it’s because he’s a coward).
The only problem for Faramir now is how he can get out of this school. And not out as in transferring, out as in physically leaving the premises. Because they know that it’s his last day as well. They know that he won’t do anything to them, and that this is their last time to hurt him. Faramir doesn’t want to know how far they’ll go. Which means the best thing to do is wait at school, until they get bored. If he uses the art room he can look out of the windows onto the grounds, he can see them leave. Surely they won’t wait for him forever.
So Faramir goes into the art room, gets out a well worn copy of A Single Man, and resigns himself to waiting. And waiting. It’s hard to read because of the nerves, the light tapping of his fingers that he does when he’s nervous. A message comes through on his phone, but he doesn’t answer it. Faramir can’t face anyone right now, and considering the people who have his number he might not want to know what it says.
Then there’s a knock on the door to his art room. Faramir can feel himself tense, because he knows that knock. It’s strong and mocking, a warning signal. Of course he shouldn’t have gone in this room - it’s obvious he’d go here. Not that there’s anywhere to hide. The door opens, and all Faramir’s done is put his book back in his bag and slipped it slightly under the table. At least he can be the only thing damaged in this encounter.
“So, you’re finally leaving?”
There isn’t a right answer to this question. So Faramir just nods. He isn’t sure how all of his school found out, because he didn’t tell them. Not that that matters right now. Looking around, he tries to see who's there. It’s just Alexander and Emrys. Both in the year above him, one here from the start and one a new transfer. Both of them more than happy to display their sadistic tendencies on the younger years.
“Answer me when I’m speaking to you.” Alexander is in one of these moods, then. One where it doesn’t matter what Faramir does because it’s the wrong choice.
They’re getting closer now, somehow. Faramir’s standing up as well, because he doesn’t want them to throw him off the chair. For every step they take forward, he can take half a one back. Not enough to separate him from them. Just enough to put off the inevitable for a little longer.
“I thought Daddy’s money was guaranteed to pay for the next terms, hmm?” Emrys asks, “Or can you not afford anything any more?”
“I’m not leaving for that.” They can disrespect him, but not his family.
“No?” Emrys takes another step forward, and now Faramir realises he can’t go backwards anymore. “So you can afford this?”
Emrys lunges forward, and Faramir instinctively puts his arms up but Emrys just pulls anyway - and Faramir can feel a hand on the fabric of his blazer. He’s pulled forward and onto the floor, then in almost the opposite direction. There’s a ripping noise as part of the seams break, but Faramir doesn’t care about that as he starts to push himself up again. But now that he’s down they won’t let him get up again.
Instead his face collides with a fist, and Faramir’s hand slips out from under him - he tries to right it, get a grip on the smooth floor, but a swift kick to the same hand stops it again. His head still doesn’t hit the floor, but he is on it now. He’s kicked again, but this time to the stomach. Then to the arms when he tries vaguely to protect himself.
There’s a crack as a boot collides with Faramir’s face.
It’s predominantly on his cheek, but his nose gets caught as well. He can feel blood beginning to pour from it. Surely it can’t be broken? Faramir can’t afford for it to be broken. Or blood all over his clothes. His hand tries to go to his nose, but it’s held down. Nothing else comes, immediately. We’re back to talking then.
“Why are you leaving, Faramir?”
Somehow he guesses that Faramir isn’t going to answer, and gives some extra incentive. “Answer, or I’ll kick you again. Harder.”
“Grades.” It’s not wrong, and Faramir instantly regrets speaking when blood manages to seep into his mouth. It’s metallic and warm, and still running from his nose.
“You think you’re better than us?” There’s a genuinely angry note in Alexander’s voice, something that makes Faramir shrink in on himself.
“No, that’s not what I meant. I just mean- I mean…” Faramir’s managed to crawl back slightly, although he’s completely up against the wall. He can’t say he’s moving to get away from them and this. He wants to get out of this as uninjured as he can… or without more than he has currently.
“You just mean what?”
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The voice is one Faramir is familiar with, but he still tenses. He can’t be seen like this. He doesn’t want Boromir to see him like this - to disappoint him. Alexander has tensed slightly, moving back from the younger boy. Emrys stays where he is, glancing between the two of them. “And who’s this, fag? The person you’re moving for?”
“He’s my brother.”
Both of them say it at the same time. Faramir’s is almost apologetic, not ashamed of Boromir but of himself. Boromir’s voice is protective, filled with a palpable fury. A promise of vengeance. He moves forward slightly, both towards them and no longer blocking the door. There’s a moment of silence between all four of them, before Alexander exchanges a glance. And he begins to leave. There’s tension before they both go, and Boromir is torn between running to his little brother and making sure they’re gone.
Then he hears the intake of breath, a hiss in pain, as Faramir pushes himself up. Gripping the tabletop, Faramir can finally put his hand up to his nose - although the blood isn’t as bad. A small amount comes away on the blazer, and Faramir winces at that as well. The entire left sleeve is split down the middle, and his shirt has almost certainly got blood on it, and-
His older brother hugs him. It’s tight enough to be protective, entirely and fully, but it doesn’t hurt him. And Faramir isn’t sure what to do. What he can do. Faramir's brain reminds him that he’s still bleeding - and he’ll get his blood all over Boromir’s shirt. Trying to step back, Faramir has to almost push to get out of his brother’s arms (it hurts more than he thought it would). “I-I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” There’s heartbreak in Boromir’s eyes, and he moves close again. “Faramir, you haven’t done- what are you apologising for?”
“I’ve got blood on your shirt.” As he says it, the apology suddenly sounds weak. Because it is. Why is Faramir afraid of his brother? What’s going on- why is he like this? “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” Boromir takes his little brother into his arms again, and this time Faramir cries. Only a little, just a few tears. But Boromir doesn’t pull away when he begins to cry, and then Faramir begins to sob. Properly starting to sob, and shaking into his brother's arms. He almost can’t get close enough, secure enough in his hug. They stay like that for almost a minute, before the fear they’ll come back takes over and he pulls himself together.
Both brothers stand, facing each other. Both of them have a little bit of blood on them, although it’s only a small portion of Boromir’s chest and a large part of Faramir’s face. And his white shirt. Looking down at it, Faramir grimaces. “Sorry for ruining this.”
“You’re not the one who ruined it.” The darkness is back in Boromir’s voice before he shakes it off again, looking around. “You don’t need that shirt anymore anyway.”
The statement hits hard, hits harder now. And some realisation comes into Boromir’s eyes, “This is why you wanted to leave, isn’t it?”
“No.” Why does Faramir insist on trying to cover up for people? “Yes.”
Boromir’s found some towels, running them under water before gently cleaning some of the blood off his younger brother's face. “Why did… didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not normally this bad.” Pulling at the blazer, he begins to shrug it off when he feels his brother tense.
“Normally? Has this… happened before?”
Hearing Boromir be disappointed in him is somehow worse than everything that’s built up to this moment. “No - honestly. I’ve never…”
Faramir gestures to the shirt, to the paper towels now covered in blood. “They’ve never done something like this.”
“No, they’ve just done this to you so badly you’ve decided to move schools.” Boromir can see through a lot of what Faramir is saying now, and throughout the time Boromir’s voice seems to be getting tighter as well. Faramir can tell his brother has a lot more to say on this topic, but thankfully his brother shows some restraint. Helps him take off the ruined blazer, picking his bag up from the floor and waiting.
“How did you find me?”
“It’s your last day; I came to pick you up.” There’s something deeper in Boromir’s expression, “I waited for you but you weren’t coming out. I figured you’d be in the art room.”
So Boromir blames himself. Taking a deep breath, Faramir takes his brother's hand. “It’s not your fault, Boromir.”
“I know.” Looking over his little brother, he can see the way he holds himself, the way he’s still slightly tense. As though he’s expecting something to happen. “It’s not your fault either.”
The silence is uncomfortable, but they stick close together. Faramir doesn’t care that he’s hiding behind Boromir, just that the two of them are now in his car. Are now driving home, still in silence. Faramir’s mind is racing - he doesn’t want to talk about what’s happening to anyone, least of all to his family. His phone sends a message occasionally, although Faramir doesn’t want to check any of them.
Boromir’s eyes keep flicking to the phone, however, and so Faramir looks. If only to fill the time. There’s texts from Boromir, asking where he is. Beregond has texted him, too.
Bere
Last day!!! You’re finally getting out :)
Honestly it’s a shame we have to wait
so long to go
to school w/each other
Hey, you ok?
Are you out of school?
Faramir. Text me when you get these
Are they doing something again???
No, I’m all good now :)
Thank you for worrying about me,
however. I’m looking
forward to going
to school with you as well!
“Who is that?” Boromir’s tone is lighter, more conversational, but it’s still probing. Still worried.
“Beregond.” Faramir hasn’t told anyone in his family about Beregond (because it’s weird. Because it’s wrong. Because he’s being a coward). “He’s my… friend.”
The hesitation makes Boromir suspicious, “Really?”
“Yes. He’s-” This isn’t what Faramir wants to do at all. It especially isn’t what he wants to do while Boromir’s turning the car. So he waits a second before they get onto their street. “They bully me because I’m gay.”
Boromir doesn’t tense as much as Faramir thought he would, only pulling into the driveway and then stopping. Looking at his brother in what isn’t entirely a new light, but is a different one. His brother is awkward when he speaks, but not hateful. Not like what Faramir’s now gotten used to. “I… see. How long have you known?”
“Since last year.” The fact that’s when he started being bullied goes unspoken. “They… they found out then too.”
There’s a sigh from his brother, a slight tense. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me, everything.”
“I do trust you.” He needs his brother to know this, “I do, Boromir. I trust you to protect me, I just- didn’t want you to have too.”
Boromir smiles slightly, even if it’s strained. “I always will, Faramir.”