I'm Looking Through You (Where Did You Go?)

by tinyavacado

Summary:

Before the movie, during the movie, and after the movie.

The life of Ned Roche and Conor Masters.

(I just really like this movie and I think the fandom deserves more fics because the movie wasn’t perfect and left too much open. Openness that is usually closed by fanfic, but there isn’t enough to ever close it. So this is one (of possibly many) contribution.)

Title from a Beatles Song

Notes:

Fair warning, this chapter includes drug use and overdosing. Not super graphic but it is there. Yeah idk what the fuck I am writing. But I don’t think Ned ever got a good storyline. Like I know that it was written from his perspective, but he kind of does nothing outside of help (or hurt) conor. Just like in the movie, everything will be written from the future. So, here is Ned’s life before Conor.

Chapter 1: This Street Used To Be Full

Ned Roche never talks about his mom.

It’s not because he doesn’t want to, or because he is ashamed of her or anything like that. He just doesn’t have anyone to talk to about her. She feels taboo in a way.

The thing is, unlike what he wrote for the essay contest, his mom wasn’t really dead. It was just easier to say that than explain what was really happening.

After an uphill battle with addiction for most of his childhood, Ned’s mother had seemingly gotten clean when he was eight. His father, feeling more stuck with her than in love with her at that point, had immediately taken the opportunity to divorce her. Ned doesn’t really blame the guy, he knows how hard it was to live with his mom.

The divorce was relatively unmessy. They had never joined their accounts, they had separate cars, the only things they really shared ownership of was the house, and Ned. His father let his mom keep the house, as his work had him traveling regularly anyway, and the court gave Ned an option on who to live with, even if his parents would have fifty-fifty custody of him on paper. Ned had never really had many friends. Despite many attempts in his early childhood, his mom was the closest he ever got. So, obviously, he chose to live with her.

In the beginning, it was all rather easy. Ned would spend his weekdays at school while his mom worked three buildings down, and the weekends were reserved for his music lessons. While he wanted to learn guitar, his mom had found a drum kit on sale for cheaper, and music was music so he wasn’t going to complain. They cooked dinner together every night, as a ritual. Life was loud and full, even when Ned wasn’t (which was rare). The breaks were spent at his fathers home, with his father’s girlfriend Natalie. They never did much together, and it always seemed like they could not wait to send him back, which was fine, because Ned would always rather be back with his mom. The only time he ever saw his parents together was on his birthday, May third.

It wasn’t perfect, but he was happy, and it was enough

As the years passed, his mom had started to fall on hard times. His music lessons were put on hold, and his mom’s work hours increased. His weekends were spent at the record store, always listening, never buying. His house was quiet. He started having to cook dinner alone. His father stopped pretending to want him around, throwing money at Ned and telling him to enjoy himself in the town instead. His birthdays became even less of an ordeal.

Then, his mom started coming home even later. Ned would regularly not see her for days on end. Less and less food was brought into the house, the water would turn off, the electricity would turn off. Ned felt like a squatter in an abandoned building. He suspected that she wasn’t sober anymore, but without any friends to stay with, and with no guarantee that his father would even care, Ned had nowhere to turn.

Ned attempted to act out to deal with his lack of support. He dyed his hair, he stayed out even later, he skipped classes (gym mostly), all the regular stuff that got teenagers in trouble. It didn’t work. He was already rather odd from other people's perspectives, and nobody cared when he acted even odder than normal. When he realized that nobody cared, Ned stopped caring too.

It all came to a head on his fifteenth birthday. Well, more like the night after. His father, as usual, gifted him a handful of money. His mom had given him her old denim jacket, and gotten him a guitar, immediately teaching him the only chord she knew. He kept repeating the chord for the rest of the night, and he could not stop smiling. The house didn’t feel as quiet, but that might have been because he was the one making noise. He hoped that it meant the later than usual nights were actually to save more money and not because she had fallen back into her old habits. He prayed it was because she got another job that had weird hours. He was wrong.

Later that night, after his father and Natalie had left, Ned was startled awake by a loud bang. He rushed to his mom’s room to find her passed out, emptied syringes surrounding her. He panicked and tried to wake her up. When she continued to not rise, he rushed to call the hospital. Luckily, his fathers flight had been delayed, so after around two hours of sitting his father showed up and took Ned back home. He doesn’t fully remember what happened after, but he knows he must have helped pack because his guitar was brought with him, and his father would never have grabbed his guitar.

The summer passed with a blur of plane rides and courtroom sittings, all of which amounted to Ned legally not being allowed to be in his mom’s custody again, sticking him with his father for the rest of his non-adult years. He wasn’t forced to go back to school for the remainder of the year, luckily, but all that meant was that he was stuck in Dubai alone. Once the school year started again, Ned was unceremoniously tossed into boarding school for the rest of his schooling, most likely his fathers attempt to avoid dealing with Ned’s Nedness.

(In his dreams, nightmares really, all he could ever see was his mom, auburn hair like fall leaves spilled around her still body. Her booming, snort-like laughter that looked so out of place coming from her if you didn’t know her, looking even more out of place when it wasn’t heard, almost always echoing in his head. A week after his birthday, all he could feel was glad that he had his fathers hair, that he wouldn’t feel haunted by his mother every time he looked in the mirror. After the court case, after being told he would never get to see his mom again, Ned had spent almost all summer trying to dye his hair like hers, always missing her color by a mile. It hurt more than he would ever admit out loud.)

If he had any hope of making friends at his new school, which he didn’t, that hope would have been immediately squashed upon entry. When he walked up to the dorm listing posted on a large board, all jean jacket and guitar case covered, hair dyed slightly more orange than what could be called natural, he was once again clocked as unnatural.

Ned could feel their stares, sensing himself as prey in predators territory, everyone ready to pounce. It was always difficult, being around people that is. Even before Ned started dying his hair, it felt like with just a glance everyone could tell he was different. He felt other before he even knew what that other was. He still didn’t fully know what that other was.

Ned was new, he was bound to not know his roommate, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t hoping for some familiarity in his new unknown territory. He was paired with this kid named Spainer, who seemed entirely content in ignoring Ned for the entire year. Ned was inclined to do the same. At least, he was, until Spainer joined the rugby team.

Now, Ned had never been crazy about rugby. He didn’t hate it, just like he didn’t hate any sport, but he wasn’t about to go and join it either. But not loving rugby? Especially when his roommate was on the team? Ned was suddenly more of a pariah than ever before.

Not even a week after Spainer had joined the team, Ned was moved to another room. He barely got to learn his new roommate's name before he was moved again. The rest of the school year followed the same, being switched from room to room, staying for about a week before being switched again. It got to the point where Ned eventually stopped unpacking his stuff, just carrying his suitcase. He never decorated, never left a mark outside of the occasional hair dye stain on the pillow he abandoned.

Even though she had obvious problems, his mother was his best friend. Outside of his mother, Ned had never had anyone else to turn to. His father, even before marrying Natalie, never had any time for Ned, and Ned had never been the best at making friends. He was alone without her.

After many a room swap, Ned was paired with a kid everyone called Weasel. Even by the teachers, which is more rare than one would think possible. His real name was never said, but Ned liked to pretend it was something common and boring, like Wesley, because Weasel would hate nothing more than being called common, and Ned hated nothing more than Weasel.

Ned didn’t have hopes for this room either, which was good as Weasel seemed to love torturing him, but for some reason he was never moved. Ned assumed it was because Walter had put his foot down on kicking Ned out. But it wasn’t so bad. Sure, outside of the dorm Weasel was his regular shit self, but inside the dorm was different.

Inside the dorm Ned wasn’t the weird kid Weasel tormented, he was a fly on the wall, which most would argue isn’t better, but it was the best Ned had gotten all year. Inside the dorm Weasel would steal his guitar to practice when he thought Ned was asleep. Inside the dorm Weasel would have nightmares and cry out for his dad. It was different inside the dorm.

After months of sharing a dorm together, Ned found out why he had never been moved again. It wasn’t because Walter grew a heart, no, it was because Weasel was proving he didn’t have one. Dorming with the weird kid gave Weasel all the ammunition anyone would ever need to start all kinds of rumors about Ned. Suddenly the ostracization Ned was facing before felt like being held delicately like a baby, as his new normal became constant harassment.

Every step he took was followed by the vile noise that can be best described as a donkey impression, every word he spoke silenced by a poorly covered coughed out ‘faggot’ or ‘queer’ or any other variation of ‘gay’. It got to the point where Ned stopped speaking all together, but even that did not stop their taunts.
His only reprieve was that his time as the school pariah had helped him find this abandoned basement-like area near the school. It might have been a bomb shelter at one point, but it had since been filled with records, even had an abandoned, still working, record player. All of the music felt like something his mom would have listened to, so Ned became almost obsessed with the tracks. Hall and Oates, Blondie, The Undertones, over and over they were looped until the records were almost unplayable. The basement became like his home, the only place he was still allowed to be loud, to scream, to be who he was with his mom.

The illusion was shattered every time he would turn to talk to her, and he would remember that she wasn’t there. Crippling loneliness consumed him, worse than what he felt at the school, so he stopped going. The records were left abandoned, only the player being taken, and Ned willed himself to forget about the basement. It haunted him more than the actual school.

All this is to say that when his father and Natalie inevitably told him that he had to stay at the school during winter break, he barely spent any time actually at the school. Instead, Ned took all the money he had saved, and all the money he had been sent, and took the train into town. Admittedly, there wasn’t a lot for him to do, as the town was rather quiet outside of its two clubs (which Ned was afraid to enter, because any substance scared him after his mom), but he eventually found a thrift store. There was, miraculously, some pretty good music being sold. It probably wouldn’t be what his mother would enjoy, but that just made it easier to buy, and easier to listen to.

Instead of Blondie and The Undertones, he was blasting Bowie, and Violent Femmes, and Big Star. Ned was sure that his mom would have loved their sound as well, but he had never heard her play them, so they were safe.

Soon, he had to get an extra suitcase to fit all the records and posters he had bought. Ned wouldn’t even try to keep them out with Weasel around, but for winter break, he could pretend. Pretend that he felt comfortable and safe in his dorm room.

While at the thrift store, Ned befriended Orla, who went to the local girls school. She had her eyebrow pierced, along with basically every part of her ear, and her hair dyed lavender and shaved on the sides, usually spiked into a mohawk, but she had to keep it down while at school. She liked harsher sounding music, and had much less difficulty in social situations than Ned did, despite also being a social pariah.

Orla was basically a cooler version of Ned.

A Ned who wasn’t afraid to be loud, who fought back. It was honestly inspiring to be around her.

Orla had eventually brought Ned into her social circle, a group of aggressively queer teens, which included Orla’s girlfriend, Sara. After a brief internal panic about Orla being able to read the gay off of him, Ned found comfort in their little group. They already knew what everyone thought was the worst part about him (including himself), and they accepted him anyway. It actually might have been their favorite part about him. For the first time since his mom, Ned felt seen, cared for. It went quite far in terms of Ned accepting that he was actually queer.

Far too soon, for Ned at least, the school year had started up again. The tormenting started again with it. Ned didn’t really stay in the best of contact with Orla and her friends, falling into a pit of despair very fast and not wanting to drag anyone down with him, especially not people who were that nice to him.

If Ned thought that he hadn’t cared about school before, he really didn’t care now. The only reason he was passing most of his classes was because the teachers cared as little as he did. English was the only class that Ned was ‘excelling’ at, and that was only because he was reusing song lyrics, altering them slightly, and turning them in as his papers. His professor was too old to even notice.

Ned’s sixteenth birthday passed without any fanfare, even less than what he had called ‘the quiet years’, as his father sent him some money and a generic card, unsigned. He was actually glad that nothing was planned, as he spent the entire day bed-ridden and consumed by nightmares of his mom.

The end of the school year came all too slow and all too fast at the same time. Too slow because Ned was stuck with his bullies, but too fast because before he could blink he was sent back to his father. The summer before had been a blur, so much change at once that Ned couldn’t fully process it, and the summers before that, he had the thought of going home to his mom as a distractor. This time there was nothing to distract Ned from his father’s quiet disdain.

His winter almost-friendship with Orla and her friends had faded even more, as neither of them had given the other their home address. Ned was once again friendless, alone, purposeless. He was determined to never feel like that again.

So, Ned decided that he was going to do something for himself, and get expelled from school. Maybe become a bum in Paris, like his father always complained about.

All his plans changed when Conor arrived.

Chapter 2: Come Inside Where It's Okay

Summary:

The before of Conor Masters

Conor was never taught to be loud.

His entire life he was quiet, even if his head wasn’t. Throughout all of his school years, every teacher would say the same, “Conor is such a sweet kid, but it would be better if he spoke more.”

His mom would always politely laugh it off, while his dad would get this constipated look on his face, like it was everyone’s fault but his own. It also always was followed by yelling, words that Conor was not privy to as he blasted music to tune them out.

As a wordless apology for the arguments, his mom paid for piano lessons. The piano itself was a gift from his grandma, a quiet instrument for a quiet boy is what she used to say. She didn’t live long enough to ever see him play it, but he liked to believe that he was quite good at it. At least, before his dad got involved. The piano was sold the next day.

Despite his quietness, Conor was never short on friends. At first he assumed that it was everyone's weird obsession with getting him to talk, but then he found out that most people would rather have someone listen.

So that's what he did, he listened.

Conor found that it was helpful in more than just school, but with his family as well. The more he was silent, the more cues he could pick up on. He was able to find out what his father wanted, the kid he expected Conor to be. A trouble maker, a fighter, someone his dad could point to in a crowd and go “That's my son!”

So Conor got loud. He played sports, he learned how to sail, he got into schoolyard fights. Instead of ‘Conor is a sweet kid’, at conferences they would hear a stilted ‘Conor is a little rambunctious’.

It might make a tight frown pull at his moms face, but his dad would clap his hands onto Conor’s back and smile. It was all worth it to stop their fights.

When school got harder and he couldn’t keep up with all the sports and his coursework, Conor decided that rugby would be his game. He knew how to be loud in rugby, how to fight and throw and kick and not let anyone look any deeper than what he could score.

On an entirely unrelated note, this is also when Conor realized that he was gay. That he could never be the son his dad truly wanted because he could never want a girl.

Needless to say, his tweenage years were hard.

The only place Conor truly felt comfortable anymore was Sirius, his dads boat. Not to say he felt comfortable with his dad, because he did not, but outside of the Saturdays his dad took him sailing, the boat was basically all Conor. It was cathartic, in a way, because he used to be afraid of water, the ocean. That was why his dad had made him go sailing with him in the first place, so Conor wouldn’t be so afraid. It hadn’t worked originally, but he did feel safer there than anywhere else. So, the boat worked in the end, just not in the way his dad expected.

Then, Conor got loud, too loud. Too confident, too comfortable. Careless, really. Something about being fifteen made him feel invincible.

His dad had been so happy with him, with his rugby, and when his dad was happy his mom was happy. They had argued less than ever in his life, and Conor felt safe at home and with his family for the first time in a long time.

Of course, it was ruined eventually.

Conor had gotten drunk after a rugby match, a first for Conor, but perfectly predictable for any other player. His dads alcoholic tendencies had made Conor afraid for a long time, but Conor had gotten comfortable. That comfort, confidence, loudness, had caused the worst mistake of his life. It was also the drinking.

Conor would like to say he was too drunk to remember what happened, but it was perfectly clear in his mind. He drank with his team after the match (which they had won), and when everyone else stopped, he kept going. Another boy on the team, Louis, had stuck with Connor like glue. It was torturous, mostly due to the fact that Conor had a massive crush on Louis.

The entire night, Louis was touching him, leaning into Conor’s space whenever he laughed, rubbing his knee when he spoke to someone else, smiling whenever he looked Conor’s way. Louis might have been as in love with Conor as Conor was with him. Or it was the alcohol talking. Definitely the alcohol.

But Conor was too confident, too comfortable. Too careless.

It’s just, it would have been so nice, too nice, if Louis had liked him back. It would have been easy too, at least for Conor. He just seemed so genuine, so interested, and it made Conor feel so sure, so safe. Too safe. It was basically fated for Conor to kiss him.

It was also fated for Louis to shove him away, to yell slurs and shove and push until something inside Conor broke.

Connor got quiet again after that, stopped talking to people, stopped listening, isolating himself outside of rugby. It didn’t take long until people at school to hear about what happened with Louis, and the fighting didn’t start long after that.

Conor should have known better, known that the fighting would have gotten back to his parents. Should have known that if the fighting got back to his parents, the reason for the fighting would have gotten to them as well.

His dad stopped taking him out to the boat on Saturdays.

Somehow, Conor endured an entire school year like that. Alone at home and alone at school, never being spoken to at either, never having company outside of rugby and fighting. It was kind of nice in a way, freeing, when he could get over the isolating loneliness of it all.

He never had to pretend to be anyone but himself anymore, anyone but who he truly was. There was no expectation for him to be the perfect son, perfect friend, perfect anyone. It felt like he could breathe again for the first time in a long time.

With no friends or family to surround himself with, Conor was free to finally accept himself. He started going out more, letting himself be interested in things that weren’t sports. He let himself go to clubs, gay ones, let himself dance and kiss with the strange men at the bar. But he never drank, he couldn’t drink.

He taught himself guitar, as the instrument was small enough to hide under his bed, away from his dads prying eyes. It wasn’t the same as piano, but music was music and it always made Conor feel centered. He spent almost all his time practicing, trying to be good at something that was for him, just him. He spent the summer becoming himself, and he was ready to come back to the school as himself.

Of course, the school decided to expel him anyway. At the start of the new school year too. His parents didn’t even try to defend him. He told himself it didn’t hurt. His dad didn’t show up to help his mom find a new school either, and that didn’t hurt. He also never showed up to help Conor move into the dorms, and it didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt Conor, not anymore.

Of course, Ned had to change that.

Notes:

If there's any mistakes, please let me know. Also please let there be more people in this fandom then me. Entirely unrelated, but writing this chapter has made me feel like Conor might just be just like me fr, which is hilarious because I thought, at least on the surface, I was just like Ned fr. it might be the dyed hair and yapping problem and overall weird kidness, but like I so thought I was a ned. and now im relating to conor so hard it hurts. it might be internal relation more than outside relation but stilllllll.

Notes:

As always, this is here so I don't forget about it (chapter is done though). Not done yet, but I am definitely writing this more than the glee one. Oops.

During my research, I found out that this movie is actually supposed to be set in the 1980’s? I don’t know if thats true or not, but thats what the research said. Honestly, I thought it was more supposed to either be like 2016 or the 1990-2000’s. Like ned is weirdly into old music, and records aren’t really used anymore. So I thought it was set later. Anyway, in this the time is supposed to be more ambiguous (like the movie), but maybe that will change

If there is any spelling errors, please let me know because this is not beta read and i am so very dyslexic.