Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Watch The Sky ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Manga-Chick 
Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for children under 17
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 03.11.2007 | Updated On: 04.09.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.3K | Visits: 300 | Status: Completed
Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for children under 17
Non Anime: Static Shock Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 03.11.2007 | Updated On: 04.09.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.3K | Visits: 300 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN STATIC AND OTHER ASSOCIATED CHARACTERS! Dwayne McDuffie and WB and Milestone do in...their various ways.
Warning: profanity, darkness, slash
Chapter Three
The house now felt strange–the atmosphere was heavy, every corner and nook shadowed with a dark sense of occupation. Every empty room seemed to hold an unknown. The house, once secure, felt raped by the darkness and the wrong. The twins were quiet when they woke, both of them on their backs with their hands at their sides, with no knowledge of what had occurred last night. The only disturbance was the small trickle of blood from their noses when they shifted from their backs, the familiar liquid warmth dribbling down their lips and alerting them clumsily for something to wipe with.
Once Richard discovered Osgoode in his bed, he questioned the other curiously. Embarrassed, Osgoode left with a snarl of nonchalance, Richard staring after him in confusion as his brother once more shut him out. Bewildered as to why Osgoode would be sleeping with him, he fumbled with the hem of his shirt in an effort to stop his nosebleed.
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Virgil ambled down the sidewalk toward the Foley house, whistling. He wore a backpack full of snacks he and Osgoode were going to consume during the horror marathon, and with the success of last night’s escapades, he was feeling pretty good. He walked up the driveway and up the front walk. He could hear shouting from inside, and from the crashing and banging that commenced, felt a little cautious in that the pair had made up and were back to their rather normal states.
Though ‘normal’ wasn’t the norm for the pair.
He knocked rapidly then walked in, Maggie giving him a cheerful greeting from the living room, where she was watching some Sunday Lifetime. She signaled that they were in the kitchen, and to be careful–the ‘boys’ were on a rampage. Virgil nodded and walked in, stopping short at what he saw.
Osgoode was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and finishing off a stack of waffles drowning in syrup, chasing it down with a bottle of Pepsi. He was dressed in his usual uniform of sweater and jeans, his hair neatly swiped to the side. Virgil paused upon seeing him, admiring his features for a moment and wondering if he smelled of that floral scent he was used to smelling upon the other. It would be so much more pleasant later on when they were sitting next to each other in the theater.
In the kitchen, Virgil saw Sean Foley for the first time in person–the elder Foley was dressed only in a pair of boxers, sleepily preparing his own stack of waffles while nursing a cup of milk. Seated atop of his bare–and rather large, Virgil noted, trying to imagine Osgoode in the future with his father’s hulking frame–shoulders was Richard. He was dressed in a pair of lounge pants and a wife-beater, but atop of his head looked to be one of his mother’s lacy bras. He was shouting gibberish, using his father as a horse, waving a frying pan around.
Virgil blinked, unsure of what to say as he waited to be noticed. Sean was trying to keep himself balanced as he moved around, with a hundred and thirty pounds atop of his shoulders, growling every once and awhile as he was swayed by Richard’s shifting movements. From time to time, Osgoode would holler with his mouth dangerously full, for Richard to shut up and for his father to ‘beat his ass’ for being so weird. He’d followed his words with throwing pieces of his waffles at his brother, who bravely batted the pieces away with his frying pan.
When Osgoode finally noticed Virgil, he choked–pushing away from the table and looking horribly mortified as Virgil lifted an eyebrow. Richard saw him choking and commanded for his faithful steed to save his soul while Sean began cutting into his waffles and gruffly ordered Osgoode to save himself. Once they noticed Virgil, everyone stilled.
Osgoode finally cleared his throat, eyes red and his face a purplish color. He looked wholly mortified, looking at the table with another choked sound. Virgil cautiously looked at the other two, and introduced himself to Sean, who looked just as embarrassed as he cleared his throat and tried to hide himself behind the counter.
“I’m Virgil,” he said, shaking one large hand. He deftly avoided one of Richard’s bare feet, noticing that his toes were painted a bright red. “Nice to meet you, Mr. F.”
“Hawkins,” Sean muttered, mortified at his undressed state and with the teen atop of his shoulders. “Will you get off me, Richard? We’ve got company, and we’re mortifying your brother…”
Richard scoffed, tossing the frying pan atop of the counter and clutching his father’s thick head of hair with both hands. “I see only a peasant not worth caring for. Get him out of my sight–he sullies my appetite for breaking my fast with this gourmet prepared before me.”
Sean finally grabbed both feet and shoved him off his shoulders, Osgoode rushing about to clean up as Richard crashed to the floor. The older Foley hurried out of the kitchen with his meal, heading upstairs to eat his breakfast in peace. Richard picked himself up from the floor, sullenly regarding his brother as Osgoode set his dishes away.
“Let’s go, Virgil. I’m ready,” Osgoode muttered, rushing out of the kitchen. “MOM! We’re ready! Let’s go!”
Richard removed the bra from atop of his head, glaring at Virgil before stomping from the kitchen. “We were happier before YOU came along,” he muttered. He stomped upstairs, slamming his bedroom door shut and causing both Sean and Maggie to holler at him.
Osgoode couldn’t meet Virgil’s eyes as he grabbed his own backpack, still a purplish hue as Maggie grabbed her purse and keys. Virgil reached out and grabbed Osgoode’s arm, grinning. “Your family is awesome, man.”
“God, Virge, shut up. They’re moronic,” Osgoode muttered, hurrying outside as Maggie called that she was ready.
“Your brother’s insane. But your pops seems cool,” Virgil said with another grin, following him to the car that Maggie unlocked.
Osgoode managed an embarrassed mutter as he climbed in. Before he climbed into the car, a flash of movement caught Virgil’s eye. He looked up at one of the second story windows to see Richard glaring at them before pulling the curtain closed.
Several hours later, night had fallen and both boys were exclaiming excitedly over what they had seen. Feeling hyperactive from all the candy and soda they’d consumed, they spoke over each other as they made their way to the parking lot to wait for Maggie to pick them up.
As they waited, Virgil looked at his best friend, admiring his excited features for a few moments before impulsively leaning over to kiss his cheek. Osgoode stopped short, reddening as he shot him a startled look, Virgil growing heated in the face as he waited for a reaction. Osgoode looked down at his shoes, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets as an uncomfortable silence descended onto both of them.
Virgil realized that it was the wrong thing to do and stepped away, feeling too sheepish to say anything. Maggie pulled into a space in front of them, Richard sitting in the front seat. They climbed into the back with that same sort of silence as Maggie greeted them cheerily. As they pulled away from the curb, Richard twisted in his seat, showing off a new game.
“Look what I got, Ozzie. The new So-Com,” he said excitedly. “Do you wanna play when–?”
“Mom, drop us off at Virgil’s,” Osgoode commanded over his brother’s voice. “I’ll walk home from there.”
“What? But I ordered some pizza, and–” Maggie protested as Richard turned with another sullen expression, shoving the game back into its bag with a frustrated growl.
“Just save me some. I’ll eat it when I get home,” Osgoode added, looking at Virgil. “Isn’t your dad home, tonight? I still need to talk to him about the kickball league he’s got going…”
“Yeah. He–”
“There’s a kickball league? Sweet. I’d like to–” Richard chirped with another excited look as Osgoode continued over him with, “And you’ve got to join, Virgil. You can’t let me join all alone, either.”
“Oz–”
“I have a mean curve pitch,” Osgoode said with a large grin. “Man, that is so freaking cool that there’s a league in Dakota. It’s going to be so great.”
Virgil shrugged as Richard angrily slumped in his seat to stare out the window with his arms crossed. “I…I guess. I mean, it ain’t really my thing. Basketball is more like it…”
“I don’t have any coordination with basketball, V! You’ve seen me play!” Osgoode said with a small laugh. “I’m better with the kickball.”
Maggie interrupted, making a sharp turn. Horns blared as both boys cringed in the backseat, grabbing onto the panic handles above the window. “Osgoode, stop ignoring your brother. He wants to play, too.”
“Mom, where’d you learn to drive? Are all your years of bulimia finally catching up to you in your loss of brain cells?” Osgoode cursed as she made a quick stop with a screech of tires.
“Osgoode…” Maggie sighed tiredly, touching her throat.
“Oz, we went to the mall today, and there was a sale in–”
“The marathon was awesome, mom,” Osgoode interrupted quickly. “There weren’t that many people there, and some were actually camping and sleeping in there like a slumber party…There were so many great flicks–there were actually more, but my ass was sore from sitting there for so long…”
“What sort of movies–?”
“Mom, can I spend the night at Virgil’s?” Osgoode asked, making Virgil startle at the request.
Maggie glanced over at her other son, taking in his sullen expression before shifting the rearview mirror. “I think it’s about time you stay home, Osgoode. You need to spend more time with your family. No offence, Virgil, but we hardly ever get to see him anymore…”
“None taken, Mrs. F,” Virgil said cheerily, despite being disappointed that the request wasn’t granted. From his seat behind his mother, Osgoode lifted a foot and kicked his brother’s seat with an annoyed mutter. Uncomfortably, Virgil shifted closer to the door.
Maggie made another short stop at a light, needing to reverse in order to allow the cars in the other lane to go through the intersection. Once she parked, opening her mouth to continue, Richard quickly unlatched his seat belt and rushed out of the car, startling all of them. Maggie gaped as the door slammed shut, watching her eldest son hurry across the intersection and onto the other sidewalk.
“Where is he going? Osgoode–!” she exclaimed, laying on her horn.
“Let him go, mom,” the youngest muttered. “Maybe he’ll get a life of his own. Now can I stay over at Virgil’s?”
She sighed heavily, giving the car too much gas as the light shifted to green. As the car stalled and she frantically restarted it, Virgil cast Osgoode a worried glance. “Fine. Just…be home in time for dinner, tomorrow. I’m making Sunday dinner–pot roast.”
“All right! Mom, you’re awesome. I take back all the years of verbal abuse that cause you all the gray hairs that you tweeze and leave everywhere…”
“Thank you, Lord.”
In Virgil’s living room that night, Virgil turned away from the anime marathon that featured episodes of Ranma ½ and looked at Osgoode as he fiddled with a new invention. “Oz…hey. I want to talk, now.”
“After this, all right? I want to see how Ryoga finds the springs,” Osgoode muttered, not looking away from the Zap Trap he was making.
“NO. You’ve been avoiding it long enough. We need to talk,” Virgil insisted. “I need to get it off my chest.”
“V, it’s not a big thing–! And I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Osgoode, we need to. It’s a big thing–!”
“No it’s not, Virgil! Drop it,” Osgoode snapped at him, finally looking away. “Why do you want to ruin things like this?”
Virgil shot him a startled look, then said in a defensive manner, “It’s going to keep ruining things if I don’t talk to you about it! It was a serious obstacle, and I just need to–!”
“It’s not important, V,” Osgoode growled, rising from the couch.
“It is too!” Virgil growled back. “These are my feelings! I feel things for you that–!”
“No you don’t, Virgil. You don’t feel any of that, and besides–it shouldn’t come between us. We have a great friendship, Virgil, and to ruin it with something like–like feelings and–! No. No, I value what we have already. I don’t want to lose it…”
Virgil stared at Osgoode for a few moments as the blond fiddled with his invention, swallowing hard. The silence was heavy and awkward, Ranma shouting madly at Akane in the background. From upstairs, they heard Virgil’s older sister, Sharon, talking loudly on the phone in her room. Robert had gone to bed early, with the requests that they keep the volume on the television set low, and to go to bed at a reasonable hour.
Finally, Osgoode sat again, setting his things aside. “Virge…I just…” Osgoode trailed off to swallow again, staring at a point beyond his knees as he collected his thoughts. Virgil waited, nervously wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans as he focused everything on his best friend.
But before they could continue, there was a high-pitched chirp from the small device atop of the coffee table, police jargon coming over the channel to announce metahuman activity in the south district. Virgil sighed tiredly, wiping his hands over his eyes as Osgoode exhaled heavily with noticeable relief. He rose from the couch, giving Osgoode a frown.
“We will continue this later, man,” he muttered as he headed upstairs to find his costume and warn his dad that he was going out.
But they never got to it, returning from the exhausting battle with Puff and Onyx to flop into Virgil’s room to sleep. Later that morning, Osgoode finally returned home, finding an empty house.
Even if there was no one there, Osgoode felt that ominous feeling of not being alone. He was used to it, feeling a little dread within him as he registered the feeling. It was a sense of knowing that the house was occupied not by the present…but by something else entirely. Even as he registered this, he could not remember what had happened the other night.
Every room had the sense of occupation, and while it was an uncomfortable feeling, Osgoode felt safer knowing that it was daytime, and nothing much happened during the day. Especially since he was by himself, without Richard around.
He walked into the kitchen, pausing short once he caught sight of its disarray. Every cabinet door was wide open, every drawer exposed. The refrigerator door was also opened wide. Every piece of silverware was laid out on the counters, and a splatter of milk covered the tile floor, the plastic jug laying on its side, crushed. He frowned, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up as he registered that he was no longer alone in the house. Swallowing hard, Osgoode steeled himself against the suffocating feeling and began to clean up. He was just glad that his parents hadn’t seen the mess, and rolled his eyes as he imagined his mother and father bitching the pair of them out for doing something they hadn’t.
“Clean up your fucking mess,” he muttered aloud as he mopped up the milk. There wasn’t a reply, but he felt the unwelcome feeling of being watched as he set the kitchen straight.
After that, he forced himself to think and act normally, to pretend that his every move was being monitored.
Virgil’s conversation from last night was repeating in an irritating loop in Osgoode’s thoughts, and he hoped that a dose of the new So-Com would help him out of his funk. He did feel many things for Virgil, but he felt that things had been ruined between them. Richard had caused enough damage for all of them in that Osgoode no longer felt confidence in himself or in that of his relationship with Virgil. Whenever he thought of the situation, he thought of what Richard had confessed in what they had done–and kept thinking that Virgil would much rather be with his brother in that aspect than with him. He couldn’t help but think that Virgil had a secret crush on his brother–using him to get closer to Richard. After all, Virgil hadn’t noticed that he was with Richard rather than him–and their differences should have been noticed.
How could Virgil NOT see that Richard’s eyes were gold, rather than Osgoode’s slate gray? That Richard kept his hair combed down towards his eyes rather than the side-swept style that Osgoode preferred?
When they had arrived at Dakota for Higher Learning, Osgoode and Richard had been so similar–dressing in the same exact manner, keeping their hair styled the same, piercing the same ear with a black hoop and wearing the same style of glasses. Everyone had a hard time telling them apart. But when Osgoode started warming up to Virgil, he’d done a few different things–combing his hair to the right, wearing a silver hoop, wearing cherry scented chapstick. While he’d wanted to be different, he couldn’t exactly break himself from the similar style he shared with his brother, too hesitant to be ‘different’. But he thought Virgil had noticed. He thought Virgil could tell the difference, even when he and Richard stayed the same.
But Virgil hadn’t.
Osgoode was insecure in the knowledge that what Virgil ‘felt’ was really true. He was starting to have second thoughts. If Virgil couldn’t tell…if he couldn’t catch the differences…
He sighed heavily, leaning his head back atop of the couch as he paused the game. The house felt so incredibly crowded…but he wondered where his family was. His father wasn’t even sleeping in their room as he usually was. Maggie hadn’t left a note to explain where they were.
He wondered where Richard had run off to last night. The action had been so out of character for him. But Osgoode felt firmly that Richard deserved the cold shoulder for what he had done, and Osgoode didn’t feel guilty for it. Richard knew how precious Virgil was to him, and he tried to ruin it.
But…he’d never actively tried to shut his brother out of his life, before. There was a strong bond between the pair of them that would always be there. Even if Osgoode felt incredibly angry at him, he couldn’t quite stay away from Richard. It felt comforting to be around him–even Virgil’s presence couldn’t quite knock that quiet need from Osgoode.
Osgoode rose from the couch and wandered the house before finally climbing the stairs. He walked into his brother’s room. It was more heavily suffocating than the rest of the house, filled with the sense of occupation. There was a presence behind the closet door, under the bed. Even as he registered this, he knew there was a form standing behind the curtains, and though he knew there was someone there, he hadn’t the courage to actually check. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, Osgoode was determined to continue behaving normally, to ignore the sensation of the other presences within his brother’s room. It was normal, for the twins, to have this unwelcome presence within their home. While used to it, it was also incredibly unsettling.
Osgoode sniffed the air. Everything about the room was so similar to his, and the smell of his brother was a completely different scent. He inhaled deeply of that particular scent, wandering over to his closet. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that it was occupied–but steeling himself anyway. When he opened the door, it revealed nothing but Richard’s hung clothing. It was empty, but heavily filled with the sense of occupation.
Determined to ignore it, he studied his brother’s school uniform and neatly hung articles of clothing. He went through every one, touching each article, even lifting a couple of shirts to his face to inhale deeply of his brother’s scent. He felt so lonely, so out of sorts without the company of his brother that it pulsed deep within him in the form of an uncomfortable ache. He shut the closet door and wandered over to Richard’s bed, sitting at the edge as he eyed his brother’s room with a studious eye. Everything was in the same place they had been when he’d last come in, save for the bottle of their mother’s perfume atop of his dresser. He lifted from the bed and walked over to it, spritzing the scent onto himself before putting it back in the same exact spot.
He then walked around the bed to reach for the ashtray that was hidden underneath there, studying the butts. The incredible sensation of irritation hit him–while he identified with the feeling, it definitely wasn’t his. They were displeased with the sight of the ashtray, a heavy feeling of dislike permeating the entire room.
“We don’t like them,” came the disembodied whisper, coming from no where and everywhere at once. It was a collection of voices, almost childish. Osgoode agreed, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The vanilla scent of the cigarettes irritated him, and he coughed theatrically as he put it back. Rummaging through the bedside stand, he found the usual piles of food coupons, matchbooks, oil candles and a small bottle of hand lotion. With a grimace he shut the drawer door and sat back on the bed.
He heard a car pulling into the driveway and leapt up, standing at a position to look out the window without nearing the curtains to see the family car pull in. Three doors opened, Sean snapping loudly at Maggie as the car began to roll back toward the curb. Osgoode grinned and quickly left his brother’s room, running downstairs to meet them in the front porch. They were carrying bags laden with groceries, and Richard was talking a mile-a-minute over something that made Sean snap in an irritated manner.
When Sean saw Osgoode atop of the porch, he growled, “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in our house?”
“Hi, daddy!” Osgoode said with a grin. “Hi, mommy! What’d you get me?”
“Mom, tell that boy to stay out of my room!” Richard complained, shoving past him as Maggie trailed after them with an uncertain glance at the car. Once he entered the house, he paused slightly, but yelled out in irritation. His shouts were often random and his family long since used to it, but Osgoode had to agree with the words, “GO HOME!”
“Hi, honey. When did you get back home?” she greeted with a kiss on his head, making Osgoode gag.
“I’m going to bed, Maggie-gal,” Sean called, dropping his bags near the stairs and walking up to do just that. The twins’ parents felt nothing of the presence that occupied their home. They were oblivious to its entirety, and the twins never spoke of it.
“Good night,” the voices murmured.
Osgoode picked up the bags he’d dropped and followed his mother and brother into the kitchen. He helped them unload and put things away, snatching the liter of soda before it could fully cool in the fridge. He opened it and drank a large amount, burping rudely in repetitive manner.
“Stop that,” the disembodied voices ordered.
Maggie frowned at him in warning. Richard shot him a disgusted look, stomping his way out of the kitchen and upstairs where he slammed the door. “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” Osgoode heard him shout.
“Do not shout,” the voices scolded. It was eerie how They had inserted Themselves into the twins’ lives, commenting in such a way that it was irritating. The twins were never sure how They were able to project Their voices, enabling both of the boys’ to hear Them without knowing where They were.
Sean roared in dissatisfaction moments later, Osgoode putting the soda away before following his mother out into the living room.
“Honey, you need to talk to your brother,” Maggie began, turning off the game, much to Osgoode’s horrified protest. “He’s lonely and feeling hurt.”
“Good,” Osgoode muttered, sitting in the arm chair to scowl at the television set. “He deserves it.”
“What did he do that deserved your behavior?”
“…Nothing. But he just deserves it. Trust me.”
“I feel that I can’t, honey, not when your brother is moping around like he is.”
“Listen to your mother,” the voices murmured.
“So? Geez. He just needs his own life and his own friends. He doesn’t like Virgil, and I’m not going to drop Virgil just because Richard hates him. He just needs to get over it.”
“Maybe you can split your time with Virgil–”
“No! I don’t want to! Virgil is more exciting,” Osgoode muttered. “He’s fun, and we have fun together. Richard’s just…he doesn’t like what we do, and he doesn’t want to do what we do. He ruins everything because he always tries to fight with Virgil.”
“We don’t like Virgil,” the voices chimed in, Osgoode waving a hand in the air to dispel that opinion.
“My boy doesn’t fight with anybody!” Maggie protested in mocking manner, switching through the channels.
“Anyway, he just needs his own friends. He’s more open than I am–why won’t he?”
“I don’t know, honey. Go play upstairs. Mommy needs some time alone–Brad’s on.”
“Ew,” Osgoode muttered, glancing at the tv before leaving the chair. He wandered upstairs, looking at his brother’s closed door. He paused in the middle of the hallway, contemplating on whether or not to end his silent treatment to find out where Richard had gone last night. But then he thought of him tricking Virgil and instead marched to his room to read a few comics before bugging his father for a raise in his allowance.
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At school that Monday, Virgil was in an irritated mood. He’d overslept, made a mad search for his tie, and the fact that Osgoode kept ignoring his need to talk was pressing on him. He was determined to get this trouble solved, so that their relationship wasn’t constantly shadowed with what had happened. He needed to have his feelings acknowledged. He hurried into the school, looking to catch Osgoode alone. It looked as if Osgoode were ignoring his brother anyway, so it wouldn’t be hard.
“Leave him alone.”
Virgil looked up, blinking. He thought he’d heard kids’ voices, but he wasn’t sure where they were coming from. It appeared that a group of kids were talking amongst each other just down the hall, so he figured the order had come from them regarding their subject. Paying no other attention to the order, Virgil continued his search for Osgoode, finding the twin in front of the vending machines, Richard talking a mile-a-minute in his effort to get a rise from his brother. Catching sight of him, Richard scowled at him, then stalked off.
Osgoode looked at him cheerfully. “Mornin’, partner!” he said as he retrieved a can of soda.
“Put that back!”
Virgil blinked once more at the sound of voices, Osgoode looking irritated before opening the can and drinking it heartily. He burped loudly, then looked embarrassed as Virgil reached him.
“Morning. Oz… we can’t keep avoiding this,” Virgil insisted, frowning at him as Osgoode scowled once more. “We need to talk, man.”
Osgoode tossed the half finished can into the nearby recyclables can. “Virgil…please. Let’s not do this, now.”
“Osgoode, I don’t want to keep ignoring this! Man, I–!” Virgil trailed off, running a nervous hand through his dreads. Osgoode nervously twiddled his thumbs, casting him an uncertain glance as he struggled to keep this subject at bay. When other students began piling into their area, he swallowed hard and shrugged.
“Let’s go to class, V. We’ve got a test to study for. And you know I need your help on some of the more…science-y parts,” Osgoode said quickly, holding his hands in prayer form as he spoke quickly. Virgil winced. It was hard to resist his friend whenever the word ‘help’ came into the subject, and Osgoode welded that tool rather mercilessly. “I’m having trouble with that class, so I really need you to come through for me, V.”
“Osgoode…c’mon, bro. C’mon, don’t keep changing the subject. This is really really bothering me–!”
“The bell’s going to ring! Let’s go get our stuff before anything else happens!” Osgoode said hurriedly, veering off in the direction of his locker, leaving Virgil standing there with a frown.
Virgil sighed heavily, shaking his head. He didn’t understand why Osgoode kept brushing off the subject–wasn’t their relationship important to him?
Warning: profanity, darkness, slash
Chapter Three
The house now felt strange–the atmosphere was heavy, every corner and nook shadowed with a dark sense of occupation. Every empty room seemed to hold an unknown. The house, once secure, felt raped by the darkness and the wrong. The twins were quiet when they woke, both of them on their backs with their hands at their sides, with no knowledge of what had occurred last night. The only disturbance was the small trickle of blood from their noses when they shifted from their backs, the familiar liquid warmth dribbling down their lips and alerting them clumsily for something to wipe with.
Once Richard discovered Osgoode in his bed, he questioned the other curiously. Embarrassed, Osgoode left with a snarl of nonchalance, Richard staring after him in confusion as his brother once more shut him out. Bewildered as to why Osgoode would be sleeping with him, he fumbled with the hem of his shirt in an effort to stop his nosebleed.
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Virgil ambled down the sidewalk toward the Foley house, whistling. He wore a backpack full of snacks he and Osgoode were going to consume during the horror marathon, and with the success of last night’s escapades, he was feeling pretty good. He walked up the driveway and up the front walk. He could hear shouting from inside, and from the crashing and banging that commenced, felt a little cautious in that the pair had made up and were back to their rather normal states.
Though ‘normal’ wasn’t the norm for the pair.
He knocked rapidly then walked in, Maggie giving him a cheerful greeting from the living room, where she was watching some Sunday Lifetime. She signaled that they were in the kitchen, and to be careful–the ‘boys’ were on a rampage. Virgil nodded and walked in, stopping short at what he saw.
Osgoode was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and finishing off a stack of waffles drowning in syrup, chasing it down with a bottle of Pepsi. He was dressed in his usual uniform of sweater and jeans, his hair neatly swiped to the side. Virgil paused upon seeing him, admiring his features for a moment and wondering if he smelled of that floral scent he was used to smelling upon the other. It would be so much more pleasant later on when they were sitting next to each other in the theater.
In the kitchen, Virgil saw Sean Foley for the first time in person–the elder Foley was dressed only in a pair of boxers, sleepily preparing his own stack of waffles while nursing a cup of milk. Seated atop of his bare–and rather large, Virgil noted, trying to imagine Osgoode in the future with his father’s hulking frame–shoulders was Richard. He was dressed in a pair of lounge pants and a wife-beater, but atop of his head looked to be one of his mother’s lacy bras. He was shouting gibberish, using his father as a horse, waving a frying pan around.
Virgil blinked, unsure of what to say as he waited to be noticed. Sean was trying to keep himself balanced as he moved around, with a hundred and thirty pounds atop of his shoulders, growling every once and awhile as he was swayed by Richard’s shifting movements. From time to time, Osgoode would holler with his mouth dangerously full, for Richard to shut up and for his father to ‘beat his ass’ for being so weird. He’d followed his words with throwing pieces of his waffles at his brother, who bravely batted the pieces away with his frying pan.
When Osgoode finally noticed Virgil, he choked–pushing away from the table and looking horribly mortified as Virgil lifted an eyebrow. Richard saw him choking and commanded for his faithful steed to save his soul while Sean began cutting into his waffles and gruffly ordered Osgoode to save himself. Once they noticed Virgil, everyone stilled.
Osgoode finally cleared his throat, eyes red and his face a purplish color. He looked wholly mortified, looking at the table with another choked sound. Virgil cautiously looked at the other two, and introduced himself to Sean, who looked just as embarrassed as he cleared his throat and tried to hide himself behind the counter.
“I’m Virgil,” he said, shaking one large hand. He deftly avoided one of Richard’s bare feet, noticing that his toes were painted a bright red. “Nice to meet you, Mr. F.”
“Hawkins,” Sean muttered, mortified at his undressed state and with the teen atop of his shoulders. “Will you get off me, Richard? We’ve got company, and we’re mortifying your brother…”
Richard scoffed, tossing the frying pan atop of the counter and clutching his father’s thick head of hair with both hands. “I see only a peasant not worth caring for. Get him out of my sight–he sullies my appetite for breaking my fast with this gourmet prepared before me.”
Sean finally grabbed both feet and shoved him off his shoulders, Osgoode rushing about to clean up as Richard crashed to the floor. The older Foley hurried out of the kitchen with his meal, heading upstairs to eat his breakfast in peace. Richard picked himself up from the floor, sullenly regarding his brother as Osgoode set his dishes away.
“Let’s go, Virgil. I’m ready,” Osgoode muttered, rushing out of the kitchen. “MOM! We’re ready! Let’s go!”
Richard removed the bra from atop of his head, glaring at Virgil before stomping from the kitchen. “We were happier before YOU came along,” he muttered. He stomped upstairs, slamming his bedroom door shut and causing both Sean and Maggie to holler at him.
Osgoode couldn’t meet Virgil’s eyes as he grabbed his own backpack, still a purplish hue as Maggie grabbed her purse and keys. Virgil reached out and grabbed Osgoode’s arm, grinning. “Your family is awesome, man.”
“God, Virge, shut up. They’re moronic,” Osgoode muttered, hurrying outside as Maggie called that she was ready.
“Your brother’s insane. But your pops seems cool,” Virgil said with another grin, following him to the car that Maggie unlocked.
Osgoode managed an embarrassed mutter as he climbed in. Before he climbed into the car, a flash of movement caught Virgil’s eye. He looked up at one of the second story windows to see Richard glaring at them before pulling the curtain closed.
Several hours later, night had fallen and both boys were exclaiming excitedly over what they had seen. Feeling hyperactive from all the candy and soda they’d consumed, they spoke over each other as they made their way to the parking lot to wait for Maggie to pick them up.
As they waited, Virgil looked at his best friend, admiring his excited features for a few moments before impulsively leaning over to kiss his cheek. Osgoode stopped short, reddening as he shot him a startled look, Virgil growing heated in the face as he waited for a reaction. Osgoode looked down at his shoes, awkwardly shoving his hands into his pockets as an uncomfortable silence descended onto both of them.
Virgil realized that it was the wrong thing to do and stepped away, feeling too sheepish to say anything. Maggie pulled into a space in front of them, Richard sitting in the front seat. They climbed into the back with that same sort of silence as Maggie greeted them cheerily. As they pulled away from the curb, Richard twisted in his seat, showing off a new game.
“Look what I got, Ozzie. The new So-Com,” he said excitedly. “Do you wanna play when–?”
“Mom, drop us off at Virgil’s,” Osgoode commanded over his brother’s voice. “I’ll walk home from there.”
“What? But I ordered some pizza, and–” Maggie protested as Richard turned with another sullen expression, shoving the game back into its bag with a frustrated growl.
“Just save me some. I’ll eat it when I get home,” Osgoode added, looking at Virgil. “Isn’t your dad home, tonight? I still need to talk to him about the kickball league he’s got going…”
“Yeah. He–”
“There’s a kickball league? Sweet. I’d like to–” Richard chirped with another excited look as Osgoode continued over him with, “And you’ve got to join, Virgil. You can’t let me join all alone, either.”
“Oz–”
“I have a mean curve pitch,” Osgoode said with a large grin. “Man, that is so freaking cool that there’s a league in Dakota. It’s going to be so great.”
Virgil shrugged as Richard angrily slumped in his seat to stare out the window with his arms crossed. “I…I guess. I mean, it ain’t really my thing. Basketball is more like it…”
“I don’t have any coordination with basketball, V! You’ve seen me play!” Osgoode said with a small laugh. “I’m better with the kickball.”
Maggie interrupted, making a sharp turn. Horns blared as both boys cringed in the backseat, grabbing onto the panic handles above the window. “Osgoode, stop ignoring your brother. He wants to play, too.”
“Mom, where’d you learn to drive? Are all your years of bulimia finally catching up to you in your loss of brain cells?” Osgoode cursed as she made a quick stop with a screech of tires.
“Osgoode…” Maggie sighed tiredly, touching her throat.
“Oz, we went to the mall today, and there was a sale in–”
“The marathon was awesome, mom,” Osgoode interrupted quickly. “There weren’t that many people there, and some were actually camping and sleeping in there like a slumber party…There were so many great flicks–there were actually more, but my ass was sore from sitting there for so long…”
“What sort of movies–?”
“Mom, can I spend the night at Virgil’s?” Osgoode asked, making Virgil startle at the request.
Maggie glanced over at her other son, taking in his sullen expression before shifting the rearview mirror. “I think it’s about time you stay home, Osgoode. You need to spend more time with your family. No offence, Virgil, but we hardly ever get to see him anymore…”
“None taken, Mrs. F,” Virgil said cheerily, despite being disappointed that the request wasn’t granted. From his seat behind his mother, Osgoode lifted a foot and kicked his brother’s seat with an annoyed mutter. Uncomfortably, Virgil shifted closer to the door.
Maggie made another short stop at a light, needing to reverse in order to allow the cars in the other lane to go through the intersection. Once she parked, opening her mouth to continue, Richard quickly unlatched his seat belt and rushed out of the car, startling all of them. Maggie gaped as the door slammed shut, watching her eldest son hurry across the intersection and onto the other sidewalk.
“Where is he going? Osgoode–!” she exclaimed, laying on her horn.
“Let him go, mom,” the youngest muttered. “Maybe he’ll get a life of his own. Now can I stay over at Virgil’s?”
She sighed heavily, giving the car too much gas as the light shifted to green. As the car stalled and she frantically restarted it, Virgil cast Osgoode a worried glance. “Fine. Just…be home in time for dinner, tomorrow. I’m making Sunday dinner–pot roast.”
“All right! Mom, you’re awesome. I take back all the years of verbal abuse that cause you all the gray hairs that you tweeze and leave everywhere…”
“Thank you, Lord.”
In Virgil’s living room that night, Virgil turned away from the anime marathon that featured episodes of Ranma ½ and looked at Osgoode as he fiddled with a new invention. “Oz…hey. I want to talk, now.”
“After this, all right? I want to see how Ryoga finds the springs,” Osgoode muttered, not looking away from the Zap Trap he was making.
“NO. You’ve been avoiding it long enough. We need to talk,” Virgil insisted. “I need to get it off my chest.”
“V, it’s not a big thing–! And I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Osgoode, we need to. It’s a big thing–!”
“No it’s not, Virgil! Drop it,” Osgoode snapped at him, finally looking away. “Why do you want to ruin things like this?”
Virgil shot him a startled look, then said in a defensive manner, “It’s going to keep ruining things if I don’t talk to you about it! It was a serious obstacle, and I just need to–!”
“It’s not important, V,” Osgoode growled, rising from the couch.
“It is too!” Virgil growled back. “These are my feelings! I feel things for you that–!”
“No you don’t, Virgil. You don’t feel any of that, and besides–it shouldn’t come between us. We have a great friendship, Virgil, and to ruin it with something like–like feelings and–! No. No, I value what we have already. I don’t want to lose it…”
Virgil stared at Osgoode for a few moments as the blond fiddled with his invention, swallowing hard. The silence was heavy and awkward, Ranma shouting madly at Akane in the background. From upstairs, they heard Virgil’s older sister, Sharon, talking loudly on the phone in her room. Robert had gone to bed early, with the requests that they keep the volume on the television set low, and to go to bed at a reasonable hour.
Finally, Osgoode sat again, setting his things aside. “Virge…I just…” Osgoode trailed off to swallow again, staring at a point beyond his knees as he collected his thoughts. Virgil waited, nervously wiping the palms of his hands on his jeans as he focused everything on his best friend.
But before they could continue, there was a high-pitched chirp from the small device atop of the coffee table, police jargon coming over the channel to announce metahuman activity in the south district. Virgil sighed tiredly, wiping his hands over his eyes as Osgoode exhaled heavily with noticeable relief. He rose from the couch, giving Osgoode a frown.
“We will continue this later, man,” he muttered as he headed upstairs to find his costume and warn his dad that he was going out.
But they never got to it, returning from the exhausting battle with Puff and Onyx to flop into Virgil’s room to sleep. Later that morning, Osgoode finally returned home, finding an empty house.
Even if there was no one there, Osgoode felt that ominous feeling of not being alone. He was used to it, feeling a little dread within him as he registered the feeling. It was a sense of knowing that the house was occupied not by the present…but by something else entirely. Even as he registered this, he could not remember what had happened the other night.
Every room had the sense of occupation, and while it was an uncomfortable feeling, Osgoode felt safer knowing that it was daytime, and nothing much happened during the day. Especially since he was by himself, without Richard around.
He walked into the kitchen, pausing short once he caught sight of its disarray. Every cabinet door was wide open, every drawer exposed. The refrigerator door was also opened wide. Every piece of silverware was laid out on the counters, and a splatter of milk covered the tile floor, the plastic jug laying on its side, crushed. He frowned, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up as he registered that he was no longer alone in the house. Swallowing hard, Osgoode steeled himself against the suffocating feeling and began to clean up. He was just glad that his parents hadn’t seen the mess, and rolled his eyes as he imagined his mother and father bitching the pair of them out for doing something they hadn’t.
“Clean up your fucking mess,” he muttered aloud as he mopped up the milk. There wasn’t a reply, but he felt the unwelcome feeling of being watched as he set the kitchen straight.
After that, he forced himself to think and act normally, to pretend that his every move was being monitored.
Virgil’s conversation from last night was repeating in an irritating loop in Osgoode’s thoughts, and he hoped that a dose of the new So-Com would help him out of his funk. He did feel many things for Virgil, but he felt that things had been ruined between them. Richard had caused enough damage for all of them in that Osgoode no longer felt confidence in himself or in that of his relationship with Virgil. Whenever he thought of the situation, he thought of what Richard had confessed in what they had done–and kept thinking that Virgil would much rather be with his brother in that aspect than with him. He couldn’t help but think that Virgil had a secret crush on his brother–using him to get closer to Richard. After all, Virgil hadn’t noticed that he was with Richard rather than him–and their differences should have been noticed.
How could Virgil NOT see that Richard’s eyes were gold, rather than Osgoode’s slate gray? That Richard kept his hair combed down towards his eyes rather than the side-swept style that Osgoode preferred?
When they had arrived at Dakota for Higher Learning, Osgoode and Richard had been so similar–dressing in the same exact manner, keeping their hair styled the same, piercing the same ear with a black hoop and wearing the same style of glasses. Everyone had a hard time telling them apart. But when Osgoode started warming up to Virgil, he’d done a few different things–combing his hair to the right, wearing a silver hoop, wearing cherry scented chapstick. While he’d wanted to be different, he couldn’t exactly break himself from the similar style he shared with his brother, too hesitant to be ‘different’. But he thought Virgil had noticed. He thought Virgil could tell the difference, even when he and Richard stayed the same.
But Virgil hadn’t.
Osgoode was insecure in the knowledge that what Virgil ‘felt’ was really true. He was starting to have second thoughts. If Virgil couldn’t tell…if he couldn’t catch the differences…
He sighed heavily, leaning his head back atop of the couch as he paused the game. The house felt so incredibly crowded…but he wondered where his family was. His father wasn’t even sleeping in their room as he usually was. Maggie hadn’t left a note to explain where they were.
He wondered where Richard had run off to last night. The action had been so out of character for him. But Osgoode felt firmly that Richard deserved the cold shoulder for what he had done, and Osgoode didn’t feel guilty for it. Richard knew how precious Virgil was to him, and he tried to ruin it.
But…he’d never actively tried to shut his brother out of his life, before. There was a strong bond between the pair of them that would always be there. Even if Osgoode felt incredibly angry at him, he couldn’t quite stay away from Richard. It felt comforting to be around him–even Virgil’s presence couldn’t quite knock that quiet need from Osgoode.
Osgoode rose from the couch and wandered the house before finally climbing the stairs. He walked into his brother’s room. It was more heavily suffocating than the rest of the house, filled with the sense of occupation. There was a presence behind the closet door, under the bed. Even as he registered this, he knew there was a form standing behind the curtains, and though he knew there was someone there, he hadn’t the courage to actually check. Despite the uncomfortable feeling, Osgoode was determined to continue behaving normally, to ignore the sensation of the other presences within his brother’s room. It was normal, for the twins, to have this unwelcome presence within their home. While used to it, it was also incredibly unsettling.
Osgoode sniffed the air. Everything about the room was so similar to his, and the smell of his brother was a completely different scent. He inhaled deeply of that particular scent, wandering over to his closet. He hesitated for a moment, knowing that it was occupied–but steeling himself anyway. When he opened the door, it revealed nothing but Richard’s hung clothing. It was empty, but heavily filled with the sense of occupation.
Determined to ignore it, he studied his brother’s school uniform and neatly hung articles of clothing. He went through every one, touching each article, even lifting a couple of shirts to his face to inhale deeply of his brother’s scent. He felt so lonely, so out of sorts without the company of his brother that it pulsed deep within him in the form of an uncomfortable ache. He shut the closet door and wandered over to Richard’s bed, sitting at the edge as he eyed his brother’s room with a studious eye. Everything was in the same place they had been when he’d last come in, save for the bottle of their mother’s perfume atop of his dresser. He lifted from the bed and walked over to it, spritzing the scent onto himself before putting it back in the same exact spot.
He then walked around the bed to reach for the ashtray that was hidden underneath there, studying the butts. The incredible sensation of irritation hit him–while he identified with the feeling, it definitely wasn’t his. They were displeased with the sight of the ashtray, a heavy feeling of dislike permeating the entire room.
“We don’t like them,” came the disembodied whisper, coming from no where and everywhere at once. It was a collection of voices, almost childish. Osgoode agreed, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. The vanilla scent of the cigarettes irritated him, and he coughed theatrically as he put it back. Rummaging through the bedside stand, he found the usual piles of food coupons, matchbooks, oil candles and a small bottle of hand lotion. With a grimace he shut the drawer door and sat back on the bed.
He heard a car pulling into the driveway and leapt up, standing at a position to look out the window without nearing the curtains to see the family car pull in. Three doors opened, Sean snapping loudly at Maggie as the car began to roll back toward the curb. Osgoode grinned and quickly left his brother’s room, running downstairs to meet them in the front porch. They were carrying bags laden with groceries, and Richard was talking a mile-a-minute over something that made Sean snap in an irritated manner.
When Sean saw Osgoode atop of the porch, he growled, “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in our house?”
“Hi, daddy!” Osgoode said with a grin. “Hi, mommy! What’d you get me?”
“Mom, tell that boy to stay out of my room!” Richard complained, shoving past him as Maggie trailed after them with an uncertain glance at the car. Once he entered the house, he paused slightly, but yelled out in irritation. His shouts were often random and his family long since used to it, but Osgoode had to agree with the words, “GO HOME!”
“Hi, honey. When did you get back home?” she greeted with a kiss on his head, making Osgoode gag.
“I’m going to bed, Maggie-gal,” Sean called, dropping his bags near the stairs and walking up to do just that. The twins’ parents felt nothing of the presence that occupied their home. They were oblivious to its entirety, and the twins never spoke of it.
“Good night,” the voices murmured.
Osgoode picked up the bags he’d dropped and followed his mother and brother into the kitchen. He helped them unload and put things away, snatching the liter of soda before it could fully cool in the fridge. He opened it and drank a large amount, burping rudely in repetitive manner.
“Stop that,” the disembodied voices ordered.
Maggie frowned at him in warning. Richard shot him a disgusted look, stomping his way out of the kitchen and upstairs where he slammed the door. “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!” Osgoode heard him shout.
“Do not shout,” the voices scolded. It was eerie how They had inserted Themselves into the twins’ lives, commenting in such a way that it was irritating. The twins were never sure how They were able to project Their voices, enabling both of the boys’ to hear Them without knowing where They were.
Sean roared in dissatisfaction moments later, Osgoode putting the soda away before following his mother out into the living room.
“Honey, you need to talk to your brother,” Maggie began, turning off the game, much to Osgoode’s horrified protest. “He’s lonely and feeling hurt.”
“Good,” Osgoode muttered, sitting in the arm chair to scowl at the television set. “He deserves it.”
“What did he do that deserved your behavior?”
“…Nothing. But he just deserves it. Trust me.”
“I feel that I can’t, honey, not when your brother is moping around like he is.”
“Listen to your mother,” the voices murmured.
“So? Geez. He just needs his own life and his own friends. He doesn’t like Virgil, and I’m not going to drop Virgil just because Richard hates him. He just needs to get over it.”
“Maybe you can split your time with Virgil–”
“No! I don’t want to! Virgil is more exciting,” Osgoode muttered. “He’s fun, and we have fun together. Richard’s just…he doesn’t like what we do, and he doesn’t want to do what we do. He ruins everything because he always tries to fight with Virgil.”
“We don’t like Virgil,” the voices chimed in, Osgoode waving a hand in the air to dispel that opinion.
“My boy doesn’t fight with anybody!” Maggie protested in mocking manner, switching through the channels.
“Anyway, he just needs his own friends. He’s more open than I am–why won’t he?”
“I don’t know, honey. Go play upstairs. Mommy needs some time alone–Brad’s on.”
“Ew,” Osgoode muttered, glancing at the tv before leaving the chair. He wandered upstairs, looking at his brother’s closed door. He paused in the middle of the hallway, contemplating on whether or not to end his silent treatment to find out where Richard had gone last night. But then he thought of him tricking Virgil and instead marched to his room to read a few comics before bugging his father for a raise in his allowance.
01010011
At school that Monday, Virgil was in an irritated mood. He’d overslept, made a mad search for his tie, and the fact that Osgoode kept ignoring his need to talk was pressing on him. He was determined to get this trouble solved, so that their relationship wasn’t constantly shadowed with what had happened. He needed to have his feelings acknowledged. He hurried into the school, looking to catch Osgoode alone. It looked as if Osgoode were ignoring his brother anyway, so it wouldn’t be hard.
“Leave him alone.”
Virgil looked up, blinking. He thought he’d heard kids’ voices, but he wasn’t sure where they were coming from. It appeared that a group of kids were talking amongst each other just down the hall, so he figured the order had come from them regarding their subject. Paying no other attention to the order, Virgil continued his search for Osgoode, finding the twin in front of the vending machines, Richard talking a mile-a-minute in his effort to get a rise from his brother. Catching sight of him, Richard scowled at him, then stalked off.
Osgoode looked at him cheerfully. “Mornin’, partner!” he said as he retrieved a can of soda.
“Put that back!”
Virgil blinked once more at the sound of voices, Osgoode looking irritated before opening the can and drinking it heartily. He burped loudly, then looked embarrassed as Virgil reached him.
“Morning. Oz… we can’t keep avoiding this,” Virgil insisted, frowning at him as Osgoode scowled once more. “We need to talk, man.”
Osgoode tossed the half finished can into the nearby recyclables can. “Virgil…please. Let’s not do this, now.”
“Osgoode, I don’t want to keep ignoring this! Man, I–!” Virgil trailed off, running a nervous hand through his dreads. Osgoode nervously twiddled his thumbs, casting him an uncertain glance as he struggled to keep this subject at bay. When other students began piling into their area, he swallowed hard and shrugged.
“Let’s go to class, V. We’ve got a test to study for. And you know I need your help on some of the more…science-y parts,” Osgoode said quickly, holding his hands in prayer form as he spoke quickly. Virgil winced. It was hard to resist his friend whenever the word ‘help’ came into the subject, and Osgoode welded that tool rather mercilessly. “I’m having trouble with that class, so I really need you to come through for me, V.”
“Osgoode…c’mon, bro. C’mon, don’t keep changing the subject. This is really really bothering me–!”
“The bell’s going to ring! Let’s go get our stuff before anything else happens!” Osgoode said hurriedly, veering off in the direction of his locker, leaving Virgil standing there with a frown.
Virgil sighed heavily, shaking his head. He didn’t understand why Osgoode kept brushing off the subject–wasn’t their relationship important to him?