Chapter Text
He was hours past the hour he’d promised to return home, the once foggy-blue sky having transformed to a deeper navy that’d seem completely void of any colour if it weren’t for the blinding light of his phone’s flashlight. If he was lucky, he’d be able to sneak back into the house entirely unnoticed, catch an hour or two of sleep before he inevitably had to walk back out of the house for another day of scribbling meaningless words into the back of his notepad, pretending to take in anything his teacher was trying to explain. But, of course, any kind of good luck in the Goodman household was almost entirely unheard of. His bedroom window, which he had left open enough to slip through when he inevitably returned home late again, had been latched shut once again, making a silent return practically impossible and forcing him to use the significantly more noticeable front door. Between unlocking the door and pushing it open to allow himself in, he was sure to wake anyone that wasn’t already awake and awaiting his arrival. With a somewhat frustrated sigh, he dragged his feet towards the front door, fumbling around in the pocket of his jacket for his key. After a few seconds, he pulled his hand from his pocket, key wedged between two fingers as he used his free hand to throw his backpack back onto his shoulder. After a good minute or two of stalling, he finally bit the bullet, pushing the key into the door and twisting it, unlocking it with significantly less trouble than he had expected. As soon as the click of the latch reached his ears, he pushed the door open gently with his shoulder, sliding through the gap before swiftly locking it once more. Finally back inside his house, he slid his shoes off and tucked them against the door, hoping that when he turned to make his way up the stairs he’d be met with complete silence. The second he turned to face the rest of the house, he locked eyes with his mother, gently rocking herself side to side on an office chair in the living room. Of course, he could’ve predicted this exact interaction weeks in advance, her routine seeming more familiar than his own, even if this had been the latest he’d ever returned home from wherever he decided to spend his free time. With another sigh, he walked towards her, bracing himself for whatever lecture she had prepared for him. If the past few late nights with his friends had told him anything, it was to prepare himself to be lectured by at least one of his parents or caught by his sister whenever he decided to return home at an unusually late hour. Truthfully, he hadn’t really expected to see anybody awake this time with how late he’d been. It wasn’t entirely impossible in such an unpredictable household, but the last time he’d seen anyone awake past one hadn’t exactly ended too great. Perhaps he’d just hoped this time the house would remain quiet, that he’d deal with the consequences of his recklessness in the morning, that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything going wrong this time.
“Mom? What’re you doing up? It’s three-thirty, why’re you up so late?” he questioned, slinging his bag onto one of the hooks in the hall.
“I couldn’t sleep, you still weren’t home, had me thinking something had happened to you.” she responded, pushing her feet against the ground to stop the rocking of the chair, now looking directly at him.
“Didn’t we have this talk on Friday? I was perfectly fine, completely safe, completely unharmed all night.”
“Don’t act smug, Gabriel. You swore you’d be back early when you left after dinner and you lied . What if you got lost on your way home? Or got into a car accident because of how dark it is? Or if you’d dropped dead at some random kid’s house?”
“Mom, you know if anything-”
“I’m serious! What if there was some kind of freak ice storm and you got stuck out there? Hell, what if you’d got caught in the crossfire of a completely unrelated car accident?”
“What’d we say about watching the news? You know half of the things they talk about are rarer than a lottery winner, right? I mean, c’mon, a freak ice storm? In the middle of September?”
“You swore you’d be back early , Gabe! Not sure what time you call this, but this is far from early.”
Gabe sighed once more, walking over to his mother and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pressing a brief kiss to her hair.
“You gotta let go Mom, I’m almost eighteen. And besides, if anything had happened, wouldn’t you have known hours ago? Y’know, police, doctors, my friends parents?” he spoke, his cheek pressed against her hair.
“Are you doing drugs?” she rushed out, holding onto his arms as if her question was entirely normal.
“..Not at the moment.”
Just as his mother opened her mouth to respond to his vague answer, another set of footsteps approached the stairs, presumably from above.
“Who’s up at this hour?” his father questioned, blinking himself awake as he started to walk down the staircase.
“Your father, go. Hide by the kitchen until he comes down, sneak back up when he’s gone.” his mother whispered, pushing him in the direction of their kitchen.
“Why does he hate me?” Gabe asked, his face a mixture of panic and complete confusion.
“Because you’re a little twat.”
“You can’t call me a twat!”
Before he could respond any further, his mother rushed back into the living room, shouting some kind of excuse to his father. From the area he’d been tucked away into, he had an almost perfect view of the entry to the living room, making his escape plan almost entirely flawless. The moment he saw his father enter the room, he rushed to the stairs and up to his room, determined to remain completely undiscovered until he came down for school later that morning. It wasn’t until he reached his bedroom and closed the door behind him that he realised the effects such rushed movements had on his weakened body, having to tightly grasp the doorframe to hold himself upright as he caught his breath, the awakening ache in his knees already settling. Frustrated, he allowed himself to drop to the floor, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the door, knees pulled towards his chest in some form of self-comfort.
Truthfully, at seventeen years old, Gabe wasn’t sure what to do with himself, no matter the state his body was in. Even when he found himself in one of his rarer good days, he’d still lurk around as if nothing had changed, aimlessly walking around his room in an attempt to cure his persistent boredom. If that didn’t trick his mind into silence, he’d resort to laying flat on his back on the rough carpeted floor of his bedroom, staring blankly at the ceiling as he tried to make sense of the aching despair that simply refused to depart from his already exhausted brain. Although he could admit his life hadn’t really been the greatest, he couldn’t exactly figure out what had caused things to take such a downward turn. Perhaps it was the way he was forced to live his daily life on edge, constantly awaiting the next spell of excruciating pain in his muscles or the mental sucker-punch that struck him with every panic attack he’d have. Or perhaps it was the immense guilt he felt towards his family for having such a vulnerable idiot constantly lurking around, dragging his cramping limbs around with such heavy caution he was certain they’d grown sick of his failing attempts to cover up his illness. Or maybe it was the feeling that he shouldn’t really be around to burden them in the first place, that he should’ve succumbed to those deadly complications he’d been haunted by for almost the entire seventeen years he’d been alive for.
Stuck within his own mind, Gabe seemed to have completely missed the persistent knocks at his bedroom door, only coming back to his senses when the culprit had decided instead to bang on the door with every ounce of strength they could muster up. Opening his eyes, he was met with a sudden lack of darkness, wincing at the drastic difference in lighting and the obvious signs that he’d been sat against his door for far too long once again. With the knocking only getting louder and more persistent, he sighed and finally pushed himself from the ground, ignoring the remnants of pain as he rushed to finally remove his jacket and open the door. When he finally pulled the door open, he was met with an empty hallway, with whoever had been knocking already halfway down the stairs. He assumed it’d been his sister’s attempt at waking him up on her way back to her own room, like she’d done for the last few days of the previous week, silently signalling to him that she’d be starting to get ready herself and that if he wasn’t ready himself by the time she rushed back down the stairs, she’d simply walk off without him. Maybe it seemed harsh to anybody else, but to them, it was part of a small routine that kept them somewhat sane in their unstable household. With a newly discovered burst of energy, Gabe quickly threw on the nearest set of clean clothes he could find, discarding the clothes he’d previously been wearing in the small hamper his mother had insisted he used for his dirty clothing. He swiftly exited his room and headed for the bathroom, briefly brushing past his father as he ran across the landing, making an effort to pay little attention to the way his father had completely ignored his son’s presence yet again. Reaching the bathroom, he retrieved his toothbrush and toothpaste from their place beside the sink, knocking the cap from the tube and squeezing its contents onto his toothbrush, using his free hand to screw the cap back on and place it back where it belonged. He used the side of his hand to knock the tap on, running the brush under the icy-cold water. Halfway through his second cycle of brushing his teeth, a figure in the doorway caught his attention, their impatience made clear by the way they were leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed as they stared him down. Turning to face them, he immediately registered the sandy-blonde tone of his sister’s hair.
“Morning, Nat.” he mumbled, words muffled by the toothbrush wedged between his teeth.
“Yeah, morning, are you gonna be much longer? I still have to brush mine too and we’ve got maybe ten minutes before we have to leave.” Natalie responded, her tone frantic as she fidgeted with the corner of her cardigan.
“I can finish up downstairs, check on Mom while I’m there?”
“Yeah, yeah, that works. I’ll be down in two, so don’t get distracted.”
“Got it!” he responded, using his free hand to throw a thumbs-up in her direction, making his way towards the staircase.
Completely disregarding his father once more, he rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen, brushing his teeth as he nodded a silent greeting to his mother. Lunch meat in hand, she briefly smiled back at him as she continued to prepare lunches for the two siblings, blissfully unaware of the chaos her son was about to cause. Sliding across the tiled floor, he stood in front of the sink, waiting for his mother to look over at him again before spitting the remainder of his toothpaste into the sink, earning a disapproving grimace as he walked towards the cabinet to grab a glass. After rinsing his mouth and checking his phone for the first time since he’d returned home that morning, he looked up to see a box of cereal and a bowl placed on the counter in front of him, a carton of oat milk soon following. Despite the rising hunger in his stomach, he pushed the bowl aside, his face scrunching up in disgust at the idea of eating something so sugar-heavy on absolutely no sleep. Instead, he circled back around to the other side of the kitchen, grabbing a cereal bar he’d left there the previous morning. It wasn’t much better for him, but it certainly sounded easier to stomach than marshmallows coated in some kind of melted sweetener. Unwrapping the bar and taking a bite, he finally remembered that he couldn’t exactly go to school with absolutely nothing on him but his clothing, leaving his mother to rush back into the hallway to grab his bag and shoes. Brushing past his father another time, he made his way to the living room, sitting on the arm of the sofa as he forced his feet back into his incredibly worn trainers, swiping his father’s car keys from the coffee table on his way back out. He waved the keys in his father’s direction, watching as the man in front of him did anything but look up at him as he searched for the keys. Frustrated, Gabe tossed the keys over his shoulder, heading back towards the stairs to call Natalie down. Finally spotting her shorter frame at the top of the stairs, he shuffled out of the way, his gaze caught by the sudden mess the kitchen had become. In the brief moment it had taken him to retrieve his bag and put his shoes on, their mother had emptied an entire loaf of bread onto the ground, throwing slices of ham and cheese onto each slice like her life depended on it.
“Uh, Nat?” he questioned, his voice trembling with fear as he continued to watch his mother’s frantic movements.
“What the hell?” she responded, an equally concerned expression plastered across her face.
“I only left for a minute .”
“Wasn’t she doing better? She seemed better, right?”
“I don’t know, I mean, I guess not?”
“Hey, Dad?” Natalie called out, finally getting their father to notice the current state of the kitchen, both her and Gabe watching his face fall as he called out to their mother.
“Diana?” he called, making his way back to the kitchen to presumably redirect her to something less chaotic.
“I’ll handle this, you two go, you’ll miss your bus.” he continued, retrieving the pair of lunches from the counter and tossing the bags to the pair in the hall.
“Mom?” Gabe spoke, trying to ignore the way his voice shook with fear.
“Go, you’ll be late if you stay any longer.”
Exchanging a brief glance, the siblings clambered down the few stairs they had been standing on, grabbing their individual keys before walking out of the house. Closing the door behind them and heading toward their bus stop, the two siblings feared for the state they’d return home to later that day. Their mother had been doing better for the past month or two, so seeing such a sudden turn in her behaviour had completely drained them of any hope they’d had for a good day, dreading the returning storm more than ever before.