Chapter Text
Freddy’s fingers tremble as he punches in the combination to his locker.
He pulls it open, reaching inside…
… and remembers a similar set of lockers, an iron grip on his collar, around his throat, a voice that roars, raging in his ears.
And the smoke- the smoke that coils around the man’s shoulders, features forming and fading with no discernable pattern, while all Freddy can do is watch in a sort of horrified, terrified, fascination.
Glowing eyes, claws, teeth… teethteethteeth.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
Freddy jumps, barely managing to stifle the yelp that rises in his throat.
He slams his locker shut, spinning around.
Billy is there, leaning with one arm propped against the locker next to his.
His brows are drawn forward. He’s scrutinizing Freddy.
Freddy decides right away that he doesn’t like it.
He turns away, frustrated with himself for shutting the locker when he hasn’t even grabbed his biology textbook. That quickly translates into frustration towards Billy because if Billy hadn’t come up and startled him, he would have his biology textbook in his hand.
“Nothing,” he says, as blandly as he can. It’s not really working. His voice sounds as shaky as his hands. He starts entering the combination to his locker all over again. “Nothing at all. Why? Is there something on my face?”
Freddy yanks open his locker.
“ You’re going to tell me where he is.”
Freddy flinches before he can tell himself that the voice isn’t real.
Billy notices.
“Freddy…”
“I’m fine,” he grinds out, pressing his palm against the cool, flat surface of the locker. He’s well aware of the fact that they’re drawing an audience.
Damnit, why can’t Billy just leave him alone?
“It doesn’t look like fine to me.”
“Maybe it’s none of your business.”
Billy crosses his arms. “That stuff about being brothers? I thought it was a two way street.”
“Billy, please,” he almost whines. Begging, actually. It does nothing for his pride, but maybe it will get the point across. “Not now.”
Billy unfolds his arms, frowning. Something in Freddy’s plea seems to have bothered him. Like he’s maybe actually considering backing off. Which is… weird since Freddy knows how stubborn Billy can be.
“Freddy, you can’t…” Billy finally starts, only to be interrupted when the bell starts ringing.
Saved by the bell.
Literally.
“Whoops, sorry,” Freddy says, scooping the books he needs into his arms. Not sorry at all. But, hey. Who’s to know? He’s careful not to look at Billy. “Looks like we’d better start going if we want to get to class.”
“Freddy…”
Billy shifts, looking and sounding like he isn’t one hundred percent comfortable leaving Freddy on his own.
Which rankles Freddy.
It’s fine. He’s fine.
They’re at school.
What’s the worst that could happen?
“We’re going to late.” Freddy draws out the last word, like he’s feeling it out on his tongue.
But he doesn’t move, keeping his head down until he hears Billy moving away.
He swallows, licks his lips. His tongue feels dry.
“Hey, Billy?” he tries. For a second, he doesn’t think Billy heard him.
Then, “Yeah?”
“Could I…” Freddy swallows again, ignoring the tightness in his throat. “Do you… I think I’d rather walk home by myself today.” He lowers his head. “If that’s okay with you.”
Billy doesn’t answer. At first, Freddy is afraid he’s going to ignore him.
But then Billy says, “Fine. Whatever.”
And he leaves.
Freddy closes his eyes and tries desperately to ignore the stone drop in the pit of his stomach.
…
There’s a part of Freddy that thinkshopes wants Billy to still be there, waiting outside for him at the end of school.
He’s not.
Of course he isn’t.
Freddy hikes his backpack up a little higher up his shoulder, trying to ignore the sting of hurt because he asked for this.
He, of all people, does not get to feel betrayed.
Not over this.
Not with what he’s done on his conscience.
He bites his bottom lip… hard… as Sivana’s voice forms a fog around his head. He closes his eyes, trying to steady his hands when they start to shake.
Freddy doesn’t want to think about it. Not now.
He forces his eyes to open, forces himself to ignore the voice in his ear. The one that tells him he’s worthless, that you’re just like me.
He shakes it off, tells himself that it’s not really there, and sets off for home.
Alone.
…
Breathing hurts, Freddy discovers.
He leans against the brick wall, hand pressed against his chest.
He’s not sure if it’s because he’s got a couple of ribs broken or if it’s because he’s had the wind knocked out of him (honestly, he’s got his money pegged on the former), but getting proper air into his lungs is suddenly an impossibility.
“Hey, Freeman.”
It had been that voice, that sentence, that had started it all and he’d turned around only to receive a fist to the face, courtesy of the Bryers brothers.
The following volley of kicks and punches had ended with the larger of the two grabbing him by his coat lapels and slamming him up against the brick wall.
“You think you’re so special? After Superman came to lunch?”
“Uh… yeah? Kinda? When was the last time he did that for you guys?”
In hindsight, the snark really hadn’t served him well.
“So scream. If he’s really your friend,” Burke’s lips are so close to his ear, he can feel his hot breath, “call him.”
With a sharp twist of Freddy’s arm, Burke gets what he wants and Freddy screams.
“Superman. Superman!!!”
Burke releases his arm and Freddy slumps, exhausted, to the ground.
The brothers stand over him.
“Guess he really isn’t coming for a loser like you.”
And Freddy, slumped against the brick wall, tears leaking from his half-shut eyes, says nothing.
With a final, half-hearted kick to the side of his leg, the brothers high-five and depart.
The memory refuses to leave him and a tear slips free. He closes his eyes and lets his head rest back against the brick wall.
He’d cried then too.
The burn of that humiliation still lingers in his chest.
Freddy shifts a little, but, really, there’s nowhere for him to go, no way for him to make it home.
The Bryers broke his crutch.
It’s there on the sidewalk next to him. Just achingly out of reach. Or… maybe he could reach it. If he had the energy to try.
But, in the end, what does it matter?
It’s broken.
Not like it will do him any good even if it weren’t.
The way he hurts right now, he doesn’t even think he could manage the way home.
It’s starting to get cold- it’s getting late and he probably only has an hour of daylight left anyways.
In other words, he’s well and truly screwed.
This is what he gets, a darker part of himself reminds him. He rejected Billy’s offer of help. Basically told him to get lost. And, okay, so he was nicer about it (wasn’t he? The look of hurt on Billy’s face flashes through Freddy’s memory.), but the effect was still the same.
He lets his eyes open to slits, regarding the full-frontal view of yet another brick wall with disinterest.
The Bryers picked a good spot to leave him. Freddy has to give them that. There won’t be many people passing by this way who could find him. And anyone who does pass by is likely someone he won’t want to be found by.
It’s a lose-lose situation either way.
Nothing he can do but wait.
His eyes slide shut.