Static Shock Fan Fiction ❯ Watch The Sky ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )
[ 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: 03.15.2007 | Updated On: 04.09.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 271 | 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: 03.15.2007 | Updated On: 04.09.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 6.2K | Visits: 271 | 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 Four
That afternoon after school, Richard scowled at the television set, running a fingertip over his blackened eye. The swelling was starting to recede, and the stitches had been removed–but he couldn’t remember when they had. That wound was healing smoothly–no scarring. The paused images of his video game on the television set was momentarily memorizing as he tried to remember the day when his stitches had been taken out–he would remember something like that, wouldn’t he?
His mother had gone to see some movie after work with some friends (which, in itself was surprising, thinking that his mother had friends–why didn’t he have any?), Osgoode was off with Virgil once again, and he was home by himself. His father didn’t count, as he slept heavily during the day and there was no use bothering a man that wouldn’t wake up before his alarm went off.
Even still, the house was suffocating–and though he was long used to it, he’d had to wonder why They were still around. All throughout their childhood, the twins had been bothered by the mysterious Them. Though Richard nor Osgoode couldn’t picture what They looked like, Their presence throughout their lives and house was enough for the pair to hold Them in regard. They were just as substantial as their parents–always out of sight, but always there.
Even now, Richard knew he wasn’t alone in the living room–he knew They were around somewhere, watching him as They always did.
Though it was unsettling, it was rather irritating when Their childish voices alerted him to Their disapproval and dislikes, most of which Richard like to irk whenever he could. As he were right now, drinking a tall glass of milk and earning their ire with every swallow. They didn’t like milk products; didn’t like ice cream, cheese. Whichever it was, calcium sources tended to irritate Them.
He loudly plunked the half full glass onto the end table, hearing their growls as he smacked his lips and returned to his game. It felt horribly boring and empty without his brother around, and he tried to lose himself in the effects on the television screen in an effort to take his mind off Osgoode’s absence. He should have been used to it by now, but he couldn’t shake that continuously empty feeling within him whenever Osgoode chose Virgil over him.
He turned off the system and the television set, stalking into the kitchen. Jerking open the refrigerator, he pondered over his choices of food, feeling Their eyes on him with every move. It was unsettling and wholly suffocating whenever They were around. For some odd reason, They tended to follow him around the most.
“Jesus Christ, leave me alone!” he bellowed, slamming the door shut. He stalked out of the kitchen, feeling Them following him upstairs. He slammed that door shut, the walls shaking with the force. He flopped stomach first onto his bed, exhaling heavily as he scowled at his nightstand. The silence of the house was maddening–he could hear the slight ticking of the clock from the kitchen, the sounds of the city outside their house walls. He shifted, catching sight of something small and dark moving into his closet. The door shut with a soft click, making his face screw up with momentary bother. Catching sight of Them was always unsettling, no matter how much they stuck around.
They’d never really seen Them–just glimpses and flashes of shapes. The boys were too disturbed to really look for them; too frightened to even try to see Them. There was just something wrong about it–something too disturbing. Unsettled by the glimpse, Richard decided to leave the house.
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The gas station wasn’t that busy when Richard walked in. Scanning the sparse aisles, Richard noted the bored Indian worker behind the counter, then felt glee upon seeing his brand of cigarettes in a basket upon the counter, a sign displaying the discount price due to out of date. It was an easy steal, and he wasn’t too concerned with getting past the worker’s eagle-eyed gaze so he ambled over to the soda counter and busied himself with filling a sixty-four ounce cup. While he was doing that, another teen walked into the store, heading for the same counter. Richard subtly checked him out, liking what he saw and working out a plan for conversation in his mind. The other teen caught him looking, and hesitated before smiling in his direction.
Richard went up to the counter, keeping an eye out for the other teen as the boy ambled throughout the aisles, picking up junk food to accompany his soda. When the cashier turned to put his cash in the register, Richard grabbed a couple of packs from the open basket and slipped them into his jeans pocket by the time the man turned around. Turning around to see the teen watching him, Richard smiled at him again, tilting his head towards the door as an indication for conversation, and the teen nodded curtly. Walking outside, Richard waited for the other teen as he finished his business, playing out conversation in his mind.
It was easy to pick up men, Richard had learned. His experience had begun when he was fourteen, and he’d perfected his methods in Dakota, giving him enough confidence to continue doing so. While Osgoode was aware that Richard picked up men, Osgoode was oblivious to what Richard did with them. Richard’s sexual experience was only as a result of these pick-ups, and Richard didn’t exactly brag about them.
The other teen emerged from the store, looking at him with some hesitation before smiling shyly. Engaging in conversation, Richard realized that he was getting jittery with the encounter and broke it short. The other teen gave him a sense of unease with his words and hesitation, so Richard brushed it off and walked away from the store with no other destination in mind.
He had to wonder what Osgoode and Virgil were up to, wondering if the pair were getting along better, or if it were entirely awkward still. Knowing his brother, Richard figured that Osgoode was avoiding Virgil’s persistence. Osgoode tended to avoid conflict rather than engage in it. He had a faint hope that that was the cause, because it made him feel comfortable in that Osgoode would have conflict with Virgil. It would be entirely awful if Osgoode had somehow grown beyond his comforts to open up to Virgil.
Night was rapidly approaching and Richard looked at his wristwatch. Curfew off the streets was seven-thirty p.m., Dakota enforcing that rule due to the metahumans that roamed the city, and for general teenage safety. He took out one of the packs from his pocket. He found his lighter and veered off into a byway, a dark stairway leading up from the sidewalk he was currently on to lead out onto an apartment complex, a short-cut home.
He paused on the stairway to light his cigarette, hearing a large group of kids coming up fast from behind him. He looked over his shoulder as he exhaled, spotting a group of teenage boys running along the sideway he’d just taken. There was a discovering shout that made chills run up his spine as they all stopped in action, spying him quickly. A bad feeling overcame him as he spotted the teen from the gas station pointing him out, his friends immediately yelling out. He spit the cigarette out as they rushed toward the stairs, dropping his lighter.
Hearing their hateful epithets ringing in the air, feeling absolutely frightened as he guessed their intentions, Richard ran out of the stairway and into the complex. He heard them picking up speed, cursing his own inathleticism as he struggled to keep ahead of the group. Veering up another stairway, wanting to make it home before they could catch up, he heard himself panting hard as he forced himself to stay ahead. He was, imagining various hate crime statistics, imagining himself falling prey to that sort of horror because he was sloppy in judging another male.
The teens behind him whooped and hollered, making it into some sort of sick game, as if it were nothing but a fun chase for all. Horribly, there wasn’t anybody around to plead for help, and Richard wasn’t about to slow down to look for any assistance. He veered around the last apartment building, racing through the parking lot and entering into a back lot that he knew would lead out onto the residential streets behind his house. He realized that they were pausing to throw things at him. Rocks bounced off the pavement ahead of him, and he heard the quickly pounding feet of a faster runner catching up to him.
Desperation hit him as he realized that they were going to catch up with him before he made it to his house. He veered quickly into an alleyway, feeling the suffocating horror of impending violence tighten his chest, making it harder to breathe. The alleyway was a dead end, a parking lot for employees of the shops that enclosed the area. Realizing this made Richard gasp in dismay, erupting into hacking smoker’s coughs as he stopped short to avoid impact with the main wall. The teens surrounded him immediately, coloring the air with their hateful shouts, their intent for violence painfully thick. A couple of them began shoving him, spitting at him as he curled his arms around his head, still coughing harshly as his legs shook from the effort of running.
He was wholly frightened, too scared to plead or shout for help, intending on just curling up to protect himself from their violence rather than trying to fight them for escape. He felt them kicking at him, spitting on him as they shouted. He hugged his head tightly, losing the ability of coherent thought as they crowded around him.
And suddenly they all stopped, their voices strange as they mixed into one confused shout, veering into a completely different direction. Richard was still curled up in a ball, too panicked to realize that all the teens had been swept away, crowded together in a bundle as part of a metal chain link fence wrapped around them. They were set aside as Static jumped off his disc, racing for him in concern.
When Richard felt hands on his arms, trying to pull them from his head, he tightened his hold, crying out in fright. Static managed to pull his arm back, alerting him to his presence. Confused, Richard focused on him, shaking fiercely as he realized that the teens had been apprehended.
Static stilled once he recognized Richard, feeling a very brief flash of panic overcome him as his familiar features registered. For a few moments, he was almost convinced that it was Osgoode he had rescued–until he saw the fading bruise of his eye and realized that Richard was wearing clothing different from Osgoode. Both of them had been in the area, Static making sure that Osgoode made it home safely, diverted only by the teens’ shouts.
Momentary concern over the obviously frightened teen overcame any uncomfortable feelings he had toward Richard. “You all right–?” Static asked, catching himself before using Richard’s name. “You okay? Are you hurt?”
Richard, now that his mind was clearing of the panic from previous, began to realize that the city’s superhero had intervened. The very fact that he’d been rescued was nothing compared to the awe he felt upon being face to face with someone he admired. Static was a powerful celebrity–a God.
Shakily he rose, losing focus on the horror he’d just encountered to focus on the superhero that helped him. He’d never thought he’d personally encounter the superhero–he’d thought that the closest he’d have was seeing him on the television. To have the guy in person…right in front of him…he was now blinded with awe, sending his system into high panic.
He stammered incoherently for a few moments, blabbing gibberish until he realized that he had no idea what he himself was saying. He interrupted himself quickly to wipe his sweaty face, fingers shaking. “Wow, thank you!” he praised, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Thank you so much! Y-you’re amazing!”
Embarrassed at the praise, Static stepped back. His familiarity with Richard was beginning to interfere with his ability to treat the situation in a professional sense. Irritation and shame hit him, remembering the day Richard had tricked Virgil Hawkins–the unresolved situation with Osgoode came back to him, flashing over his features for a moment as he looked away.
“Just makin’ sure the streets are safe,” he muttered uncomfortably, not wanting to look Richard in the face, certain that he’d be recognized. He busied himself with grabbing his disk, charging it as he leapt atop of it. Unfortunately, it looked as if he didn’t particularly care for the situation, giving Richard a self-conscious feeling.
“I really appreciate this. That was really scary,” Richard then admitted, taking in the superhero’s costume, peering closely into the teen’s face. There was something familiar about the guy, but… He quickly reached for the other’s hands, to shake them and have something to brag to Osgoode about–the other boy was going to be so jealous–! “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along–!”
Static quickly jerked his hands back, sliding them into his jacket pockets to avoid contact. The air became awkward, and Richard dropped his hands with an uncomfortable fluster. But it bothered him that Static wasn’t going to touch him–figuring that he’d heard what the teens were shouting was part of the superhero’s action. Already hurt by what had happened to him, Richard felt as if he’d been slapped by the other’s behavior.
He felt mortified, looking down quickly, self-consciously wiping his hands on his jeans once more. Static mumbled something as he flew off, pulling the bundle of captured teens along with him. Richard watched after him, feeling utterly dispirited by the encounter. Static, on the television, always seemed so open and friendly with everybody, but this encounter had been incredibly discouraging. Was it only him that Static was different about?
Feeling down, Richard headed home.
“We don’t like him,” the voices murmured.
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Osgoode didn’t look up when Richard walked into the house, talking over the noise he made coming in. But Maggie gasped, rising from the couch.
“What happened to you?” she asked with alarm, Osgoode looking up quickly to see that his twin was covered in dirt, loogies dried on his clothing. Despite his cold shouldering, Osgoode was startled at the sight of his brother in that state, rising from the couch in the same panic as Maggie.
“Nothing!” Richard snapped at her, racing upstairs. Both of them cringed as the door slammed customarily, Sean snarling from his room.
Maggie looked at Osgoode, whose brow was furrowed with concern. Despite his bitterness over the situation Richard had placed on his relationship with Virgil, Osgoode’s worry over his brother overrode that anger. Maggie turned to him, but Osgoode was already up the stairway, hurrying to his brother’s room. Without knocking he walked in, seeing that Richard was already out of his clothing, snatching random pieces from his drawer to shower.
“What happened to you?” Osgoode demanded, reaching out to swat dirt from his brother’s hair. With an angry snarl, Richard pulled away from him. “What happened? You might as well as get it out now, because I’m going to find out eventually–!”
“Oh, so it took a beating for you to talk to me again?” Richard snapped at him incredulously, slamming things around. He kept seeing Static’s rude actions, the way he seemed so cold to him. It felt like such a lie that Static was as great as others portrayed him to be. “Fuck you, Osgoode.”
Osgoode sighed, grabbing the shirt Richard dropped as his twin angrily rummaged for some underwear. “Look…I know I’ve been a prick…but you deserved it for doing what you did to my best friend. I treated you appropriately.”
“Oh, your ‘best friend’? Don’t you mean boyfriend?”
“It’s not like that, Richard! Thanks to you, there’s no hope for that!” Osgoode snapped, following him out of the room.
“Because I brought out the truth?” Richard asked, snatching his shirt from him. He stormed into the bathroom, shutting and locking it before Osgoode could follow. Uselessly, Osgoode turned the doorknob and kicked the door with the toe of his shoe in repetitive action. “And just so you know, Static’s a lie! He’s a fucking prick! They sure don’t show that side of him on television!”
Osgoode stilled, hand raised as he prepared to demand entrance, wondering what that meant. He pressed the side of his face against the door, piercing together possible events. Virgil always followed him home to ‘make sure he got there safely’, which was a rather embarrassing softness of Virgil that Osgoode didn’t want to entirely acknowledge. This incident must have happened just moments before he’d entered the house. “What’s that supposed to mean? You…you ran into Static?”
The shower was turned on, and Osgoode shifted away from the door. He heard the phone ring, so he raced to answer it, shouting that he had the phone. Hearing his father grumble that the phone rang only for him, Osgoode found the cordless and answered it with a breathless greeting as Virgil spoke immediately.
“Did your brother get home okay–?”
“What happened?” Osgoode demanded, locking himself in his room. “Why–?”
“There was a bunch of kids all over him. It was…it was bad. They were beating up on him, Oz, and I stopped it–”
“He’s calling you a prick and a lie,” Osgoode reported softly. He heard Virgil give a sigh, and could picture his friend exhaling heavily as he sat.
“I…I guess I was acting a little funny around him, Oz. I won’t lie,” Virgil confessed, making Osgoode feel intensely uncomfortable. “I just can’t…I don’t know. It–it makes me uncomfortable around him, and if we could just talk–!”
“Richard can sense things like that, Virg!” Osgoode interrupted with an impatient sigh. “If someone feels funny around him, he knows! He…he didn’t know that it was you…did he?”
“I–I don’t know. He was trying to look at me–I don’t know. I feel bad in a way, Oz, because he was so hyped up, so relieved…” Here, Virgil trailed off, and Osgoode shifted uncomfortably, trying to listen for any sign of feeling Virgil may have for Richard. But he wasn’t his brother–he couldn’t sense things like that in the way Richard could. “And I treated him like…I dunno. But…he’s okay? I don’t know how long they was–”
“He’s taking a shower right now, he won’t talk to anybody. I’ll…I’ll try and see. I can’t really talk anymore right now, all right? I’ll see you in school tomorrow.” Osgoode hung up in the middle of Virgil’s protest. He set the phone aside and sighed heavily, furrowing his brow. Why was that situation popping continuously? Why couldn’t it just…magically go away?
He left his room, wandering into Richard’s room and flopping onto his bed. He still felt angry at Richard for deceiving both of them, but when it came to situations like this…it was hard to ignore. His brother left the bathroom a half hour later, and Osgoode sat up as Richard cast him an annoyed look. He had some scrapes visible, but nothing entirely serious. Osgoode sat on his hands to keep from fussing, Richard ignoring him as he angrily flung his dirty clothes into the clothes hamper nearby.
“Get out of my room!” he then demanded.
“Not until you talk to me,” Osgoode said firmly. “What happened? How did you meet Static?”
“Get out of my room, Osgoode!”
“No.”
“MOM!”
“Richard, I just want to know what happened out there–! You don’t have to act like a baby about things! Why can’t I–?”
“Just get out! Go to your stupid friend’s house! You don’t care about me!”
“Oh, stop your stupid pity-party–!”
“GET OUT!”
“NO!” Osgoode shouted back, rising to get into his face. “Not until you tell me what happened!”
“Get out!” the voices hissed, Osgoode’s hairs standing straight up as a strong sense of dislike permeated the room. “Get out right now!”
Richard stilled, looking up curiously as the feelings of violence grew stronger toward his brother. There was a loud crash of sound from Osgoode’s room that had the pair of them jumping, the walls shaking with a strong rumble. The house seemed to shake, dislodging various hung things, glass rattling. Ignoring their parents’ curious shouts, both of them left Richard’s room to look into Osgoode’s. Maggie and Sean hurried upstairs, spying them immediately.
The whole room was in disarray. The mattress was swept off the frame, the dresser drawers pulled out and upturned, clothes scattered across the floor, curtains pulled away from the rods, shoes tossed around, books flung carelessly–it looked as if a group of people had come through the room in a mad search for something.
Maggie gasped while Sean gaped, the twins’ eyes wide and mouths hanging open. “Osgoode–!” Maggie exclaimed in a stunned tone.
“I–I didn’t do it!” Osgoode protested, gaping at the state of his room. He felt chills run up his spine as the strong sensation of dislike continued to permeate the air. Somewhere beyond them, there was a faint hissing sound. The room seemed to reek of something unclean, causing them all to reflexively cover their noses. But it seemed the instant they registered the smell, the stench seemed to disappear. “I–I was in Richard’s room!”
“He was, mom! We were both in my room!” Richard agreed.
“Both of you need to clean this place up!” Sean snapped, giving them an incredulous expression. He gave Osgoode a swat across the back, the twin grimacing. “I don’t want your mother doing it!”
“But we didn’t do it!” the pair exclaimed in unison.
“It doesn’t matter! Clean it up! For God’s sake…” Sean muttered as he walked away, pulling Maggie along with him. Their mother was still gaping, eyeing both of her sons with stunned dismay.
The twins looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Back in Richard’s room, the closet door slammed shut with a loud bang, Sean shouting in annoyance from the kitchen.
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That next day, Richard left Osgoode after Maggie dropped them off in front of the school. Osgoode tried to stick close to him when Virgil called his name from the stairs, distracting him. In that moment of turning around to acknowledge him, Richard slipped off through a crowd of students, causing the pair to lose sight of him.
Virgil looked at Osgoode with an expression of guilt, hands jammed deep into his pockets and looking so entirely miserable that Osgoode took pity on him. He reached out to touch Virgil’s shoulder, giving him a concerned expression. “I just couldn’t help it,” Virgil muttered, unable to look at him but enjoying the touch. “We need to talk about this, Osgoode!”
The Foley twin sighed heavily, turning away from him with an expression of annoyance. “Virgil, sometimes things should just remain unsaid. Why do you keep bringing it up? I don’t think you should keep bringing it up all the time, when it’s obvious that we work well despite what happened! I’m willing to forget it and move on, and you keep opening it all over again!”
“I like you, Osgoode!” Virgil snapped, drawing attention of several classmates. Osgoode’s eyes widened and his face flushed bright red once he realized that Virgil didn’t care where they were, or what was heard. He saw kids looking over at them, eyebrows raised. He looked at Virgil in panic, signaling at him to shut up, but the other teen continued on. “I like you, no matter what you try and deny! And you knew this! You were hurt by what I did, and–!”
“Virgil Hawkins, shut up!” Osgoode snapped at him, hiding his face behind his hands as he sweated with renewed nervousness. He turned and stalked away, but Virgil followed close behind, ignoring the whispers from the kids around them.
“If you won’t talk to me in private, I’m going to address this where everyone else can hear!” Virgil threatened, raising his voice as he continued following, determined to keep up with Osgoode.
“Knock it off, Virgil!”
“NO! No, this needs to be addressed! It can’t be ignored!” Virgil shouted, climbing the stairs behind him. “You keep avoiding the subject, and I can’t keep ignoring it! I need to talk to you about it! I need to explain–!”
“There’s nothing to explain!” Osgoode hissed, turning bright red once he realized everyone was staring at them. He stopped short, feeling trapped as Virgil crowded against him, arms on either side of him. Other students took notice, openly whispering and watching, their expressions shocked. Noticing this, Osgoode’s mortification increased, and he covered his face with both hands.
“You can’t keep running from this,” Virgil pleaded, lowering his arms, ignoring the others’ open staring. His entire world was focused on Osgoode at that moment, and nothing else. “We need to talk about this, Oz. Please.”
Osgoode couldn’t speak, refusing to lift his head from his hands, feeling every inch of him burn with mortification. His eyes burned with tears, skin crawling with the feeling of others’ eyes on him. The fact that Virgil was being so loud and open with what was their private business was making it impossible for Osgoode to concentrate.
He shook his head, feeling his face sweat behind his hands. He heard several kids laughing, calling out homophobic slurs in their direction. He couldn’t deal with that sort of labeling, hating that feeling of being trapped.
Virgil peered at him closely, refusing to acknowledge the slurs that were being tossed their way. “Oz…please…”
Before Osgoode could speak, Virgil found himself jerked fiercely to the side, stumbling as Richard swung him away from his brother. This action drew ‘ooh’s’ from the watching students as Virgil caught himself, Richard facing him angrily.
“Leave him alone, Hawkins,” he spat. “Don’t you see what you’re doing, you stupid jerk?”
“Richard, stay out of this–! This doesn’t concern you–!”
“If it involves my brother, it involves me! Some friend you are, jackass! You’re humiliating him for some sick pleasure!”
“That’s not true!” Virgil gasped in horror. Some of their classmates ventured closer to hear what was being said, spreading the word to others so that they could hear as well.
“You befriended the both of us, bragging to your friends that you’d ‘bag’ one of us. Now that you’re getting denied, you’re throwing a pissy fit over it, and taking it out on him! You are such a hussy! Get over it, you pathetic dick!”
Osgoode couldn’t believe that his brother was mortifying all of them. He cried out in horror as he heard Richard’s words, growing furious. He lunged out at Richard, grabbing him by his jacket and jerking him through the crowd. Virgil started after them, Osgoode wheeling to face him with a savage snarl.
“Stay away from me!”
Everyone began to laugh and point as Virgil, rebuffed, stopped short. Osgoode’s eyes flashed dangerously, wide and psychotic as he dragged his brother to the closest restroom. Richard shot Virgil daggers as he followed obediently after Osgoode, the door slamming shut behind him, the lock slamming into place.
The entire crowd was wholly captivated at this point, staring at the closed bathroom in shock. Virgil stood in stupefied alarm, unsure of what could be done at this point to rectify things. When he realized that many people were staring at him still, he grew suddenly aware of what he’d done. Cursing his impulsive actions, he whirled and stalked off.
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That night, Richard studied Osgoode cautiously. His brother’s mood was dangerous, and the very air he breathed was full of tension and anger. It seemed as if everyone was oblivious to the way Osgoode felt–Richard was bewildered in how everyone could behave so normally when his twin was so fiercely angry. He himself was scared, too tentative to do anything that might provoke Osgoode’s mood.
Everyone seen Osgoode as the ‘good’ twin–the one with the best behavior, so polite and well-mannered, but shy. No one could picture Osgoode as a teen with irrational anger. But Richard knew better. Richard didn’t dare complain or confront him whenever his brother happened to turn on him. To do so was dangerous.
At the dinner table, Osgoode spoke whenever one of his parents asked a question, and volunteered information occasionally, but Richard felt as if he himself had something caught in his throat. He couldn’t eat, too anxious over Osgoode’s mood. Whenever he spoke to answer a question, he stammered and squeaked. Whenever Osgoode’s slate-grey eyes focused on him, Richard either choked or interrupted himself with a low-cast mumble. His parents noticed his behavior and questioned him upon it, but Richard couldn’t explain why–they’d never believe that Osgoode was capable of frightening his brother in such a way.
Maggie walked with Sean to the car to see him off for the night, leaving the pair at the table. Osgoode finished off his third serving, chewing quietly while Richard sat stiffly. He stared down at his barely touched food, sitting atop of his hands because they were trembling. He could tell that Osgoode was furious over what had happened at school today. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t stand watching Virgil confront his brother when Osgoode was obvious in not wanting to discuss what Virgil wanted. Richard had acted impulsively, but out of instinct–he was always there to rescue his brother, always able to sense his distress and agitation no matter where he was.
Osgoode had said nothing about the situation, but Richard sensed his growing fury over what had happened. He just wasn’t sure whom Osgoode was angrier at; Virgil for his confrontation, or Richard for the confrontation. His brother ignored Virgil all day, avoiding the curious and speculative gazes of their classmates and sticking to his brother’s side like glue–just like before, only Osgoode didn’t speak to Richard, either. The entire situation was unnerving for the older twin.
He swallowed hard as Osgoode set his utensils down, every action deliberate and slow. Glancing across the table, he saw that Osgoode was wiping his mouth with his napkin, focused intently on his finished plate. He could sense that Osgoode was running over his thoughts, carefully sorting through them in that way he had, analyzing everything that he imagined possible. Richard didn’t want to draw his attention by leaving the table, too afraid of any confrontation that might take place. Maggie came in at that moment, sighing heavily as she resumed her spot at the end of the table.
“Are you in your anorexic phase, mother?” Osgoode asked politely, Maggie rolling her eyes as she resumed picking at her food. “You realize that you’re going to have to do more than that, considering that bulimia is a disadvantage for weight-loss. Maybe you should start taking those horse pills–that should help you lose that spare tire around your waist.”
“For the final time, Osgoode, I do not have an eating disorder!”
“Even if someone pukes ‘occasionally’ to relieve the feeling of being full constitutes as bulimia. Binging and purging definitely isn’t the way to go. My brother and I might suffer the horror of coming home one day and finding you dead over the toilet. But then again, I enjoy the thought of inheriting your life-savings. So die immediately so that I may have access to the Foley hundreds.”
“Osgoode, you are a prick tonight,” Maggie exclaimed, but her expression was full of cheer rather than insult. “Did Virgil find a new boytoy to play with because your cheeks have been a little chubby lately? Honey, maybe you should lay off the soda. You’ll be able to save your teeth, as well. They’re starting to match your hair color…”
Richard winced as Osgoode’s face crossed with something imminent, but he smiled quickly and gave his mother a goofy expression. “Oh, mother. Don’t you think it’s strange that you would fantasize about one of your sons going gay with a friend of his? I’m telling dad.”
“Do that. Maybe I’ll get some tomorrow. It’s been awhile since your father and I have fucked,” Maggie said on a heavy sigh. “Maybe I should consider giving him back pussy just to spark things up a bit.”
“Ew,” both boys chorused, faces grimacing.
“Osgoode started it. Put your dishes away and lock up before you head to bed,” Maggie then ordered, rising from the table to drop the contents of her plate into the trash and set the dish aside.
Richard began inching away from the table to repeat the actions of his mother when Osgoode looked at him directly, forcing him to freeze. Things seemed to still as Osgoode stared at him in an unsettling way, his eyes crossing with something dark. Richard couldn’t move or look away from that stare, unable to imagine what Osgoode was thinking as he looked at him.
“I think we should go outside to talk,” Osgoode then said calmly. Richard swallowed tightly as Osgoode left the table. “There are some things that I want to discuss in order for closure. Also, we need to clear up any other misunderstandings that you might have in regards to the insufferable situation you’ve caused. Any other rectifying measures to correct and repair the rifts that you’ve created with your selfish actions need to be shared as well. This stuff cannot be discussed in here, with so many distractions.”
“…S-sure, Osgoode,” Richard murmured, too afraid to say ‘no’. “Just…just let me get my cigarettes.”
The smile that Osgoode gave him was chilling. “Sure. Go right ahead. I’ll wait.”
Warning: profanity, darkness, slash
Chapter Four
That afternoon after school, Richard scowled at the television set, running a fingertip over his blackened eye. The swelling was starting to recede, and the stitches had been removed–but he couldn’t remember when they had. That wound was healing smoothly–no scarring. The paused images of his video game on the television set was momentarily memorizing as he tried to remember the day when his stitches had been taken out–he would remember something like that, wouldn’t he?
His mother had gone to see some movie after work with some friends (which, in itself was surprising, thinking that his mother had friends–why didn’t he have any?), Osgoode was off with Virgil once again, and he was home by himself. His father didn’t count, as he slept heavily during the day and there was no use bothering a man that wouldn’t wake up before his alarm went off.
Even still, the house was suffocating–and though he was long used to it, he’d had to wonder why They were still around. All throughout their childhood, the twins had been bothered by the mysterious Them. Though Richard nor Osgoode couldn’t picture what They looked like, Their presence throughout their lives and house was enough for the pair to hold Them in regard. They were just as substantial as their parents–always out of sight, but always there.
Even now, Richard knew he wasn’t alone in the living room–he knew They were around somewhere, watching him as They always did.
Though it was unsettling, it was rather irritating when Their childish voices alerted him to Their disapproval and dislikes, most of which Richard like to irk whenever he could. As he were right now, drinking a tall glass of milk and earning their ire with every swallow. They didn’t like milk products; didn’t like ice cream, cheese. Whichever it was, calcium sources tended to irritate Them.
He loudly plunked the half full glass onto the end table, hearing their growls as he smacked his lips and returned to his game. It felt horribly boring and empty without his brother around, and he tried to lose himself in the effects on the television screen in an effort to take his mind off Osgoode’s absence. He should have been used to it by now, but he couldn’t shake that continuously empty feeling within him whenever Osgoode chose Virgil over him.
He turned off the system and the television set, stalking into the kitchen. Jerking open the refrigerator, he pondered over his choices of food, feeling Their eyes on him with every move. It was unsettling and wholly suffocating whenever They were around. For some odd reason, They tended to follow him around the most.
“Jesus Christ, leave me alone!” he bellowed, slamming the door shut. He stalked out of the kitchen, feeling Them following him upstairs. He slammed that door shut, the walls shaking with the force. He flopped stomach first onto his bed, exhaling heavily as he scowled at his nightstand. The silence of the house was maddening–he could hear the slight ticking of the clock from the kitchen, the sounds of the city outside their house walls. He shifted, catching sight of something small and dark moving into his closet. The door shut with a soft click, making his face screw up with momentary bother. Catching sight of Them was always unsettling, no matter how much they stuck around.
They’d never really seen Them–just glimpses and flashes of shapes. The boys were too disturbed to really look for them; too frightened to even try to see Them. There was just something wrong about it–something too disturbing. Unsettled by the glimpse, Richard decided to leave the house.
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The gas station wasn’t that busy when Richard walked in. Scanning the sparse aisles, Richard noted the bored Indian worker behind the counter, then felt glee upon seeing his brand of cigarettes in a basket upon the counter, a sign displaying the discount price due to out of date. It was an easy steal, and he wasn’t too concerned with getting past the worker’s eagle-eyed gaze so he ambled over to the soda counter and busied himself with filling a sixty-four ounce cup. While he was doing that, another teen walked into the store, heading for the same counter. Richard subtly checked him out, liking what he saw and working out a plan for conversation in his mind. The other teen caught him looking, and hesitated before smiling in his direction.
Richard went up to the counter, keeping an eye out for the other teen as the boy ambled throughout the aisles, picking up junk food to accompany his soda. When the cashier turned to put his cash in the register, Richard grabbed a couple of packs from the open basket and slipped them into his jeans pocket by the time the man turned around. Turning around to see the teen watching him, Richard smiled at him again, tilting his head towards the door as an indication for conversation, and the teen nodded curtly. Walking outside, Richard waited for the other teen as he finished his business, playing out conversation in his mind.
It was easy to pick up men, Richard had learned. His experience had begun when he was fourteen, and he’d perfected his methods in Dakota, giving him enough confidence to continue doing so. While Osgoode was aware that Richard picked up men, Osgoode was oblivious to what Richard did with them. Richard’s sexual experience was only as a result of these pick-ups, and Richard didn’t exactly brag about them.
The other teen emerged from the store, looking at him with some hesitation before smiling shyly. Engaging in conversation, Richard realized that he was getting jittery with the encounter and broke it short. The other teen gave him a sense of unease with his words and hesitation, so Richard brushed it off and walked away from the store with no other destination in mind.
He had to wonder what Osgoode and Virgil were up to, wondering if the pair were getting along better, or if it were entirely awkward still. Knowing his brother, Richard figured that Osgoode was avoiding Virgil’s persistence. Osgoode tended to avoid conflict rather than engage in it. He had a faint hope that that was the cause, because it made him feel comfortable in that Osgoode would have conflict with Virgil. It would be entirely awful if Osgoode had somehow grown beyond his comforts to open up to Virgil.
Night was rapidly approaching and Richard looked at his wristwatch. Curfew off the streets was seven-thirty p.m., Dakota enforcing that rule due to the metahumans that roamed the city, and for general teenage safety. He took out one of the packs from his pocket. He found his lighter and veered off into a byway, a dark stairway leading up from the sidewalk he was currently on to lead out onto an apartment complex, a short-cut home.
He paused on the stairway to light his cigarette, hearing a large group of kids coming up fast from behind him. He looked over his shoulder as he exhaled, spotting a group of teenage boys running along the sideway he’d just taken. There was a discovering shout that made chills run up his spine as they all stopped in action, spying him quickly. A bad feeling overcame him as he spotted the teen from the gas station pointing him out, his friends immediately yelling out. He spit the cigarette out as they rushed toward the stairs, dropping his lighter.
Hearing their hateful epithets ringing in the air, feeling absolutely frightened as he guessed their intentions, Richard ran out of the stairway and into the complex. He heard them picking up speed, cursing his own inathleticism as he struggled to keep ahead of the group. Veering up another stairway, wanting to make it home before they could catch up, he heard himself panting hard as he forced himself to stay ahead. He was, imagining various hate crime statistics, imagining himself falling prey to that sort of horror because he was sloppy in judging another male.
The teens behind him whooped and hollered, making it into some sort of sick game, as if it were nothing but a fun chase for all. Horribly, there wasn’t anybody around to plead for help, and Richard wasn’t about to slow down to look for any assistance. He veered around the last apartment building, racing through the parking lot and entering into a back lot that he knew would lead out onto the residential streets behind his house. He realized that they were pausing to throw things at him. Rocks bounced off the pavement ahead of him, and he heard the quickly pounding feet of a faster runner catching up to him.
Desperation hit him as he realized that they were going to catch up with him before he made it to his house. He veered quickly into an alleyway, feeling the suffocating horror of impending violence tighten his chest, making it harder to breathe. The alleyway was a dead end, a parking lot for employees of the shops that enclosed the area. Realizing this made Richard gasp in dismay, erupting into hacking smoker’s coughs as he stopped short to avoid impact with the main wall. The teens surrounded him immediately, coloring the air with their hateful shouts, their intent for violence painfully thick. A couple of them began shoving him, spitting at him as he curled his arms around his head, still coughing harshly as his legs shook from the effort of running.
He was wholly frightened, too scared to plead or shout for help, intending on just curling up to protect himself from their violence rather than trying to fight them for escape. He felt them kicking at him, spitting on him as they shouted. He hugged his head tightly, losing the ability of coherent thought as they crowded around him.
And suddenly they all stopped, their voices strange as they mixed into one confused shout, veering into a completely different direction. Richard was still curled up in a ball, too panicked to realize that all the teens had been swept away, crowded together in a bundle as part of a metal chain link fence wrapped around them. They were set aside as Static jumped off his disc, racing for him in concern.
When Richard felt hands on his arms, trying to pull them from his head, he tightened his hold, crying out in fright. Static managed to pull his arm back, alerting him to his presence. Confused, Richard focused on him, shaking fiercely as he realized that the teens had been apprehended.
Static stilled once he recognized Richard, feeling a very brief flash of panic overcome him as his familiar features registered. For a few moments, he was almost convinced that it was Osgoode he had rescued–until he saw the fading bruise of his eye and realized that Richard was wearing clothing different from Osgoode. Both of them had been in the area, Static making sure that Osgoode made it home safely, diverted only by the teens’ shouts.
Momentary concern over the obviously frightened teen overcame any uncomfortable feelings he had toward Richard. “You all right–?” Static asked, catching himself before using Richard’s name. “You okay? Are you hurt?”
Richard, now that his mind was clearing of the panic from previous, began to realize that the city’s superhero had intervened. The very fact that he’d been rescued was nothing compared to the awe he felt upon being face to face with someone he admired. Static was a powerful celebrity–a God.
Shakily he rose, losing focus on the horror he’d just encountered to focus on the superhero that helped him. He’d never thought he’d personally encounter the superhero–he’d thought that the closest he’d have was seeing him on the television. To have the guy in person…right in front of him…he was now blinded with awe, sending his system into high panic.
He stammered incoherently for a few moments, blabbing gibberish until he realized that he had no idea what he himself was saying. He interrupted himself quickly to wipe his sweaty face, fingers shaking. “Wow, thank you!” he praised, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Thank you so much! Y-you’re amazing!”
Embarrassed at the praise, Static stepped back. His familiarity with Richard was beginning to interfere with his ability to treat the situation in a professional sense. Irritation and shame hit him, remembering the day Richard had tricked Virgil Hawkins–the unresolved situation with Osgoode came back to him, flashing over his features for a moment as he looked away.
“Just makin’ sure the streets are safe,” he muttered uncomfortably, not wanting to look Richard in the face, certain that he’d be recognized. He busied himself with grabbing his disk, charging it as he leapt atop of it. Unfortunately, it looked as if he didn’t particularly care for the situation, giving Richard a self-conscious feeling.
“I really appreciate this. That was really scary,” Richard then admitted, taking in the superhero’s costume, peering closely into the teen’s face. There was something familiar about the guy, but… He quickly reached for the other’s hands, to shake them and have something to brag to Osgoode about–the other boy was going to be so jealous–! “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along–!”
Static quickly jerked his hands back, sliding them into his jacket pockets to avoid contact. The air became awkward, and Richard dropped his hands with an uncomfortable fluster. But it bothered him that Static wasn’t going to touch him–figuring that he’d heard what the teens were shouting was part of the superhero’s action. Already hurt by what had happened to him, Richard felt as if he’d been slapped by the other’s behavior.
He felt mortified, looking down quickly, self-consciously wiping his hands on his jeans once more. Static mumbled something as he flew off, pulling the bundle of captured teens along with him. Richard watched after him, feeling utterly dispirited by the encounter. Static, on the television, always seemed so open and friendly with everybody, but this encounter had been incredibly discouraging. Was it only him that Static was different about?
Feeling down, Richard headed home.
“We don’t like him,” the voices murmured.
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Osgoode didn’t look up when Richard walked into the house, talking over the noise he made coming in. But Maggie gasped, rising from the couch.
“What happened to you?” she asked with alarm, Osgoode looking up quickly to see that his twin was covered in dirt, loogies dried on his clothing. Despite his cold shouldering, Osgoode was startled at the sight of his brother in that state, rising from the couch in the same panic as Maggie.
“Nothing!” Richard snapped at her, racing upstairs. Both of them cringed as the door slammed customarily, Sean snarling from his room.
Maggie looked at Osgoode, whose brow was furrowed with concern. Despite his bitterness over the situation Richard had placed on his relationship with Virgil, Osgoode’s worry over his brother overrode that anger. Maggie turned to him, but Osgoode was already up the stairway, hurrying to his brother’s room. Without knocking he walked in, seeing that Richard was already out of his clothing, snatching random pieces from his drawer to shower.
“What happened to you?” Osgoode demanded, reaching out to swat dirt from his brother’s hair. With an angry snarl, Richard pulled away from him. “What happened? You might as well as get it out now, because I’m going to find out eventually–!”
“Oh, so it took a beating for you to talk to me again?” Richard snapped at him incredulously, slamming things around. He kept seeing Static’s rude actions, the way he seemed so cold to him. It felt like such a lie that Static was as great as others portrayed him to be. “Fuck you, Osgoode.”
Osgoode sighed, grabbing the shirt Richard dropped as his twin angrily rummaged for some underwear. “Look…I know I’ve been a prick…but you deserved it for doing what you did to my best friend. I treated you appropriately.”
“Oh, your ‘best friend’? Don’t you mean boyfriend?”
“It’s not like that, Richard! Thanks to you, there’s no hope for that!” Osgoode snapped, following him out of the room.
“Because I brought out the truth?” Richard asked, snatching his shirt from him. He stormed into the bathroom, shutting and locking it before Osgoode could follow. Uselessly, Osgoode turned the doorknob and kicked the door with the toe of his shoe in repetitive action. “And just so you know, Static’s a lie! He’s a fucking prick! They sure don’t show that side of him on television!”
Osgoode stilled, hand raised as he prepared to demand entrance, wondering what that meant. He pressed the side of his face against the door, piercing together possible events. Virgil always followed him home to ‘make sure he got there safely’, which was a rather embarrassing softness of Virgil that Osgoode didn’t want to entirely acknowledge. This incident must have happened just moments before he’d entered the house. “What’s that supposed to mean? You…you ran into Static?”
The shower was turned on, and Osgoode shifted away from the door. He heard the phone ring, so he raced to answer it, shouting that he had the phone. Hearing his father grumble that the phone rang only for him, Osgoode found the cordless and answered it with a breathless greeting as Virgil spoke immediately.
“Did your brother get home okay–?”
“What happened?” Osgoode demanded, locking himself in his room. “Why–?”
“There was a bunch of kids all over him. It was…it was bad. They were beating up on him, Oz, and I stopped it–”
“He’s calling you a prick and a lie,” Osgoode reported softly. He heard Virgil give a sigh, and could picture his friend exhaling heavily as he sat.
“I…I guess I was acting a little funny around him, Oz. I won’t lie,” Virgil confessed, making Osgoode feel intensely uncomfortable. “I just can’t…I don’t know. It–it makes me uncomfortable around him, and if we could just talk–!”
“Richard can sense things like that, Virg!” Osgoode interrupted with an impatient sigh. “If someone feels funny around him, he knows! He…he didn’t know that it was you…did he?”
“I–I don’t know. He was trying to look at me–I don’t know. I feel bad in a way, Oz, because he was so hyped up, so relieved…” Here, Virgil trailed off, and Osgoode shifted uncomfortably, trying to listen for any sign of feeling Virgil may have for Richard. But he wasn’t his brother–he couldn’t sense things like that in the way Richard could. “And I treated him like…I dunno. But…he’s okay? I don’t know how long they was–”
“He’s taking a shower right now, he won’t talk to anybody. I’ll…I’ll try and see. I can’t really talk anymore right now, all right? I’ll see you in school tomorrow.” Osgoode hung up in the middle of Virgil’s protest. He set the phone aside and sighed heavily, furrowing his brow. Why was that situation popping continuously? Why couldn’t it just…magically go away?
He left his room, wandering into Richard’s room and flopping onto his bed. He still felt angry at Richard for deceiving both of them, but when it came to situations like this…it was hard to ignore. His brother left the bathroom a half hour later, and Osgoode sat up as Richard cast him an annoyed look. He had some scrapes visible, but nothing entirely serious. Osgoode sat on his hands to keep from fussing, Richard ignoring him as he angrily flung his dirty clothes into the clothes hamper nearby.
“Get out of my room!” he then demanded.
“Not until you talk to me,” Osgoode said firmly. “What happened? How did you meet Static?”
“Get out of my room, Osgoode!”
“No.”
“MOM!”
“Richard, I just want to know what happened out there–! You don’t have to act like a baby about things! Why can’t I–?”
“Just get out! Go to your stupid friend’s house! You don’t care about me!”
“Oh, stop your stupid pity-party–!”
“GET OUT!”
“NO!” Osgoode shouted back, rising to get into his face. “Not until you tell me what happened!”
“Get out!” the voices hissed, Osgoode’s hairs standing straight up as a strong sense of dislike permeated the room. “Get out right now!”
Richard stilled, looking up curiously as the feelings of violence grew stronger toward his brother. There was a loud crash of sound from Osgoode’s room that had the pair of them jumping, the walls shaking with a strong rumble. The house seemed to shake, dislodging various hung things, glass rattling. Ignoring their parents’ curious shouts, both of them left Richard’s room to look into Osgoode’s. Maggie and Sean hurried upstairs, spying them immediately.
The whole room was in disarray. The mattress was swept off the frame, the dresser drawers pulled out and upturned, clothes scattered across the floor, curtains pulled away from the rods, shoes tossed around, books flung carelessly–it looked as if a group of people had come through the room in a mad search for something.
Maggie gasped while Sean gaped, the twins’ eyes wide and mouths hanging open. “Osgoode–!” Maggie exclaimed in a stunned tone.
“I–I didn’t do it!” Osgoode protested, gaping at the state of his room. He felt chills run up his spine as the strong sensation of dislike continued to permeate the air. Somewhere beyond them, there was a faint hissing sound. The room seemed to reek of something unclean, causing them all to reflexively cover their noses. But it seemed the instant they registered the smell, the stench seemed to disappear. “I–I was in Richard’s room!”
“He was, mom! We were both in my room!” Richard agreed.
“Both of you need to clean this place up!” Sean snapped, giving them an incredulous expression. He gave Osgoode a swat across the back, the twin grimacing. “I don’t want your mother doing it!”
“But we didn’t do it!” the pair exclaimed in unison.
“It doesn’t matter! Clean it up! For God’s sake…” Sean muttered as he walked away, pulling Maggie along with him. Their mother was still gaping, eyeing both of her sons with stunned dismay.
The twins looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Back in Richard’s room, the closet door slammed shut with a loud bang, Sean shouting in annoyance from the kitchen.
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That next day, Richard left Osgoode after Maggie dropped them off in front of the school. Osgoode tried to stick close to him when Virgil called his name from the stairs, distracting him. In that moment of turning around to acknowledge him, Richard slipped off through a crowd of students, causing the pair to lose sight of him.
Virgil looked at Osgoode with an expression of guilt, hands jammed deep into his pockets and looking so entirely miserable that Osgoode took pity on him. He reached out to touch Virgil’s shoulder, giving him a concerned expression. “I just couldn’t help it,” Virgil muttered, unable to look at him but enjoying the touch. “We need to talk about this, Osgoode!”
The Foley twin sighed heavily, turning away from him with an expression of annoyance. “Virgil, sometimes things should just remain unsaid. Why do you keep bringing it up? I don’t think you should keep bringing it up all the time, when it’s obvious that we work well despite what happened! I’m willing to forget it and move on, and you keep opening it all over again!”
“I like you, Osgoode!” Virgil snapped, drawing attention of several classmates. Osgoode’s eyes widened and his face flushed bright red once he realized that Virgil didn’t care where they were, or what was heard. He saw kids looking over at them, eyebrows raised. He looked at Virgil in panic, signaling at him to shut up, but the other teen continued on. “I like you, no matter what you try and deny! And you knew this! You were hurt by what I did, and–!”
“Virgil Hawkins, shut up!” Osgoode snapped at him, hiding his face behind his hands as he sweated with renewed nervousness. He turned and stalked away, but Virgil followed close behind, ignoring the whispers from the kids around them.
“If you won’t talk to me in private, I’m going to address this where everyone else can hear!” Virgil threatened, raising his voice as he continued following, determined to keep up with Osgoode.
“Knock it off, Virgil!”
“NO! No, this needs to be addressed! It can’t be ignored!” Virgil shouted, climbing the stairs behind him. “You keep avoiding the subject, and I can’t keep ignoring it! I need to talk to you about it! I need to explain–!”
“There’s nothing to explain!” Osgoode hissed, turning bright red once he realized everyone was staring at them. He stopped short, feeling trapped as Virgil crowded against him, arms on either side of him. Other students took notice, openly whispering and watching, their expressions shocked. Noticing this, Osgoode’s mortification increased, and he covered his face with both hands.
“You can’t keep running from this,” Virgil pleaded, lowering his arms, ignoring the others’ open staring. His entire world was focused on Osgoode at that moment, and nothing else. “We need to talk about this, Oz. Please.”
Osgoode couldn’t speak, refusing to lift his head from his hands, feeling every inch of him burn with mortification. His eyes burned with tears, skin crawling with the feeling of others’ eyes on him. The fact that Virgil was being so loud and open with what was their private business was making it impossible for Osgoode to concentrate.
He shook his head, feeling his face sweat behind his hands. He heard several kids laughing, calling out homophobic slurs in their direction. He couldn’t deal with that sort of labeling, hating that feeling of being trapped.
Virgil peered at him closely, refusing to acknowledge the slurs that were being tossed their way. “Oz…please…”
Before Osgoode could speak, Virgil found himself jerked fiercely to the side, stumbling as Richard swung him away from his brother. This action drew ‘ooh’s’ from the watching students as Virgil caught himself, Richard facing him angrily.
“Leave him alone, Hawkins,” he spat. “Don’t you see what you’re doing, you stupid jerk?”
“Richard, stay out of this–! This doesn’t concern you–!”
“If it involves my brother, it involves me! Some friend you are, jackass! You’re humiliating him for some sick pleasure!”
“That’s not true!” Virgil gasped in horror. Some of their classmates ventured closer to hear what was being said, spreading the word to others so that they could hear as well.
“You befriended the both of us, bragging to your friends that you’d ‘bag’ one of us. Now that you’re getting denied, you’re throwing a pissy fit over it, and taking it out on him! You are such a hussy! Get over it, you pathetic dick!”
Osgoode couldn’t believe that his brother was mortifying all of them. He cried out in horror as he heard Richard’s words, growing furious. He lunged out at Richard, grabbing him by his jacket and jerking him through the crowd. Virgil started after them, Osgoode wheeling to face him with a savage snarl.
“Stay away from me!”
Everyone began to laugh and point as Virgil, rebuffed, stopped short. Osgoode’s eyes flashed dangerously, wide and psychotic as he dragged his brother to the closest restroom. Richard shot Virgil daggers as he followed obediently after Osgoode, the door slamming shut behind him, the lock slamming into place.
The entire crowd was wholly captivated at this point, staring at the closed bathroom in shock. Virgil stood in stupefied alarm, unsure of what could be done at this point to rectify things. When he realized that many people were staring at him still, he grew suddenly aware of what he’d done. Cursing his impulsive actions, he whirled and stalked off.
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That night, Richard studied Osgoode cautiously. His brother’s mood was dangerous, and the very air he breathed was full of tension and anger. It seemed as if everyone was oblivious to the way Osgoode felt–Richard was bewildered in how everyone could behave so normally when his twin was so fiercely angry. He himself was scared, too tentative to do anything that might provoke Osgoode’s mood.
Everyone seen Osgoode as the ‘good’ twin–the one with the best behavior, so polite and well-mannered, but shy. No one could picture Osgoode as a teen with irrational anger. But Richard knew better. Richard didn’t dare complain or confront him whenever his brother happened to turn on him. To do so was dangerous.
At the dinner table, Osgoode spoke whenever one of his parents asked a question, and volunteered information occasionally, but Richard felt as if he himself had something caught in his throat. He couldn’t eat, too anxious over Osgoode’s mood. Whenever he spoke to answer a question, he stammered and squeaked. Whenever Osgoode’s slate-grey eyes focused on him, Richard either choked or interrupted himself with a low-cast mumble. His parents noticed his behavior and questioned him upon it, but Richard couldn’t explain why–they’d never believe that Osgoode was capable of frightening his brother in such a way.
Maggie walked with Sean to the car to see him off for the night, leaving the pair at the table. Osgoode finished off his third serving, chewing quietly while Richard sat stiffly. He stared down at his barely touched food, sitting atop of his hands because they were trembling. He could tell that Osgoode was furious over what had happened at school today. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t stand watching Virgil confront his brother when Osgoode was obvious in not wanting to discuss what Virgil wanted. Richard had acted impulsively, but out of instinct–he was always there to rescue his brother, always able to sense his distress and agitation no matter where he was.
Osgoode had said nothing about the situation, but Richard sensed his growing fury over what had happened. He just wasn’t sure whom Osgoode was angrier at; Virgil for his confrontation, or Richard for the confrontation. His brother ignored Virgil all day, avoiding the curious and speculative gazes of their classmates and sticking to his brother’s side like glue–just like before, only Osgoode didn’t speak to Richard, either. The entire situation was unnerving for the older twin.
He swallowed hard as Osgoode set his utensils down, every action deliberate and slow. Glancing across the table, he saw that Osgoode was wiping his mouth with his napkin, focused intently on his finished plate. He could sense that Osgoode was running over his thoughts, carefully sorting through them in that way he had, analyzing everything that he imagined possible. Richard didn’t want to draw his attention by leaving the table, too afraid of any confrontation that might take place. Maggie came in at that moment, sighing heavily as she resumed her spot at the end of the table.
“Are you in your anorexic phase, mother?” Osgoode asked politely, Maggie rolling her eyes as she resumed picking at her food. “You realize that you’re going to have to do more than that, considering that bulimia is a disadvantage for weight-loss. Maybe you should start taking those horse pills–that should help you lose that spare tire around your waist.”
“For the final time, Osgoode, I do not have an eating disorder!”
“Even if someone pukes ‘occasionally’ to relieve the feeling of being full constitutes as bulimia. Binging and purging definitely isn’t the way to go. My brother and I might suffer the horror of coming home one day and finding you dead over the toilet. But then again, I enjoy the thought of inheriting your life-savings. So die immediately so that I may have access to the Foley hundreds.”
“Osgoode, you are a prick tonight,” Maggie exclaimed, but her expression was full of cheer rather than insult. “Did Virgil find a new boytoy to play with because your cheeks have been a little chubby lately? Honey, maybe you should lay off the soda. You’ll be able to save your teeth, as well. They’re starting to match your hair color…”
Richard winced as Osgoode’s face crossed with something imminent, but he smiled quickly and gave his mother a goofy expression. “Oh, mother. Don’t you think it’s strange that you would fantasize about one of your sons going gay with a friend of his? I’m telling dad.”
“Do that. Maybe I’ll get some tomorrow. It’s been awhile since your father and I have fucked,” Maggie said on a heavy sigh. “Maybe I should consider giving him back pussy just to spark things up a bit.”
“Ew,” both boys chorused, faces grimacing.
“Osgoode started it. Put your dishes away and lock up before you head to bed,” Maggie then ordered, rising from the table to drop the contents of her plate into the trash and set the dish aside.
Richard began inching away from the table to repeat the actions of his mother when Osgoode looked at him directly, forcing him to freeze. Things seemed to still as Osgoode stared at him in an unsettling way, his eyes crossing with something dark. Richard couldn’t move or look away from that stare, unable to imagine what Osgoode was thinking as he looked at him.
“I think we should go outside to talk,” Osgoode then said calmly. Richard swallowed tightly as Osgoode left the table. “There are some things that I want to discuss in order for closure. Also, we need to clear up any other misunderstandings that you might have in regards to the insufferable situation you’ve caused. Any other rectifying measures to correct and repair the rifts that you’ve created with your selfish actions need to be shared as well. This stuff cannot be discussed in here, with so many distractions.”
“…S-sure, Osgoode,” Richard murmured, too afraid to say ‘no’. “Just…just let me get my cigarettes.”
The smile that Osgoode gave him was chilling. “Sure. Go right ahead. I’ll wait.”