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Everybody has a little container deep inside them, hidden away in their heart. Over time, it begins to fill up with various things: thoughts, trauma, emotions . It’s healthy to let it empty, let oneself feel, so it’s not a weight dragging them down from the inside out. But that is not always the case. Sometimes, a person simply, as they say, “bottles it up”, for as long as they possibly can. This is not recommended, as it risks instability. Every person’s bottle has a capacity. Every person has a limit. Eventually, one day, every person’s bottle is susceptible to overflowing.
Ben’s been bottling up everything for the past seventeen years.
That container was about to shatter into a million pieces.
Ben’s breath billowed in the late January air as he trudged his way to school. Sweet Jazz City was getting the brunt of Taiga’s winter season that the country was known for; only a few days prior, a snowstorm had swept throughout the city, and another blizzard was predicted by meteorologists not too fear on the horizon. He wouldn’t be shocked if school got cancelled before the week was out on account of it, if the reports he’s read in the news were any indication.
Even though it wasn’t actively snowing at the moment, Ben felt like he was going to turn into a popsicle. He hated the intense cold that came with Taiga at times, and while the normal winter season was okay with him, the general temperature plus wind chill certainly wasn’t doing him any favors. His hat was pulled over his ears, hands shoved as deep into the pockets of his winter coat as he could. Despite him wearing five entire layers today, he still felt a shiver run through his body.
Thankfully, he was crossing the street to the high school at this very moment. He couldn’t help but let out an overly-dramatic sigh at that. Another day, another mess for Ben to trudge through and hopefully make it out of in one piece. Well, no matter. He could just zone out like he normally did, only tapping into reality for academic purposes. Before he knew it, he’d be walking back home with a friend, just like he always did. He’d hang out with the Boys, he’d have dinner with his mom, and that would amount to enough of a semi-success to satisfy him.
Ben kept his head down as he walked up the steps to the front entrance of the school. The less eye contact, the better. Much to his relief, the school was heated, a welcome invitation given the current weather outside. He’d walked the route from door to homeroom a hundred times, a majority of the time without looking up until he reached his assigned desk. An absolute expert at navigating the halls, he was!
The chatter faded to static rather quickly. He felt like he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, and that seemed to have started to weigh down on him already. Despite the fact that his shoes tapped lightly against vinyl, his feet dragged like he was struggling through three feet of snow. The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough.
With a sigh, Ben dropped off his coat and hat in his locker, looking around a few times before rushing to his homeroom and collapsing into his seat. His arms crossed against the surface, his chin resting atop it. The announcements droned on; maybe they’re important to somebody with any real standing in this school, but Ben was too tired to pay any real attention to them. He stifled a yawn, one finger idly tapping against the desk as he counted the seconds until the first bell rang.
A finger gently prodded into his cheek, prompting Ben to blink in surprise, looking to his left.
Flamethrower was smiling at him, his arm returning to his own desk. “You sleep okay, dude?” he asked Ben, adjusting his tinted glasses. Seeing one of his only adversaries in the school, Ben couldn’t help but match that grin, albeit in a slightly weaker fashion. He unwound one of his arms, giving a small wave.
“Went to bed a bit late ‘cause of homework,” Ben responded tiredly. “I’m all good, though. Don’t worry.”
“Alright, alright…Just hide your phone and text me if you want to chat during class. Speaking of, though—are you still up for studying in the library during lunch? I think if we bonk our heads together, we’ll be prepared enough for our next lab exam.” Flamethrower propped up one of his arms, leaning his cheek on his fist as he spoke.
“Of course. I think we both need it, anyways.”
“It’s a deal!”
As if some unseen force didn’t want Flamethrower and Ben to talk more than the few sentences they’d just exchanged, their homeroom teacher entered the classroom and started to run through attendance, leaving the two with no choice but to go silent as the teacher droned on. Unfortunately for them, the bell rang like clockwork just a few minutes following her finishing the list. They didn’t share any morning classes today, so Ben would just have to meet up with Flamethrower at the school library during their lunch period.
As they exited the room, Flamethrower gave Ben a light pat on the shoulder. Ben couldn’t help but beam back as a response, like a dog who was just told they were a good boy. Seeing him at the start of the day instilled in him a slight boost of energy, and, while he still kept his head down on the way to first period, he kept his pace normal as opposed to his previous sludged pace from just minutes before.
Not having many fellow students to rely on in school was a double-edged sword. On one hand, classes sucked ; there was something about working alone in a room while everybody else chattered around him that widened an already gaping pit in his stomach. He felt as if he was on his own island separate from everybody else. But on the other hand, his situation sucked so damn much that he never had to do group projects! Every teacher he’s had—save for gym class, where that just isn’t an option—has let him work alone if he preferred to do so, regardless of the assignment. The extra work was worth it.
Time practically flew by for Ben. Most of his morning classes were lectures or individual work, so, when he wasn’t actively taking notes on what the teacher was saying and covertly avoiding having his notebook be snatched out from under his arm, he tapped out of reality as much as he could while still being safe and, well, semi-aware of his surroundings.
He was always happy to hear when the bell rang, as to Ben that denoted freedom in a cosmic sort of way. But it was especially so a welcome noise now of all times, because this wasn’t just a signal to go to his next class, it was a sign that it was time for lunch. Time to study with Flamethrower , Ben’s mind cheered as he excitedly packed all of his things back into his backpack and rushed out of the room once everybody else had exited.
Getting to his locker then backtracking to the library would be a tad bit of a hassle. Not just in general, but also on account of the crowds filling up the hallway. Ben was short and lithe enough that he was able to slip through, but that didn’t stop elbows from jabbing him in the arm or bags from whacking him out of nowhere. If he had an epithet, he hoped it would be something that could help him in crowds. He didn’t like spaces where he didn’t have much room to move. It was a sensation he couldn’t believe people actually enjoyed. It took several agonizing minutes, but, finally, with stumbling legs, Ben made it to his locker.
The boy hummed as he carefully entered his combination and opened his locker, searching behind his coat for where he might have left his lunch bag. He’d been in a bit of a hurry this morning, so it wasn’t as easily accessible as he would have liked. Ben’s eyes landed on it, nestled next to his textbooks. Oh, good . For a minute, he’d thought that he completely forgot to finish packing his lunch that morning. He had plans today, he didn’t have time to risk it all going to buy something from the cafeteria. Ben reached in to grab the bag, and—
Something—no, some one —suddenly gripped the back of Ben’s head and shoved him right into his locker. It wasn’t enough to send his entire body careening in, what with his head being what was pushed, but nevertheless the contact of his forehead to the metal walls of the locker was enough to make him yelp in pain. Instinctively, Ben kicked out behind him, trying to get whatever was grabbing him off . His shoe met something, and in seconds he was able to move again. Ben wasted no time, grabbing the sides of the locker and pushing himself out, whirling around to face his assailant.
Today must really not be his day. Facing him when he turned was one of his classmates, someone he’d known since he first came to the district. Additionally, this was someone who’d been bullying him for years . It… really didn’t help that, personality-wise, the guy was closest to Giovanni. In his own head, Ben blamed him for being one of the reasons as to why he was so apprehensive initially upon first becoming part of the Banzai squad. That negative association had nearly screwed him over friendship-wise.
The kid’s name was Jonah, though people apparently called him “Jailbreak” for some stupid reason Ben couldn’t care less about, just like how he never bothered to remember Jonah’s last name. The less he thought about him, the better.
Unfortunately, he was standing right in front of him, with a smile that made Ben want to crawl into a hole and not come out until the last car left the student—no, the faculty parking lot. A couple of his friends were with him. Ben had no idea what their names were.
“Aw, didn’t want to stay in there?” Jonah was saying, “Funny! You usually love being in lockers.”
“Leave me alone,” Ben quietly mumbled, not turning his back to him as he pawed at his locker, closing it to the best of his ability. His lunch could wait until he could safely grab it without it being thrown to the floor and stomped on.
“What’s that?” he approached Ben, getting in his face and sneering. “I’m sorry, you were barking too quietly for me.” A finger jabbed into Ben’s torso.
“I said,” Ben said a bit louder, hands balling into fists. “ Leave me alone . Please.”
Ben heard laughter. He tried so, so hard to ignore it. It wasn’t important. It wasn’t important . All he had to do was stay calm, don’t do anything that might annoy them, he’d be late to meet up with Flamethrower but that was okay. Flamethrower would understand, especially now that Ben’s actually told him anything about what school was like for him. It was going to be fine, just as long as he acted like he was supposed to. He was a pro at this.
The laughter, moments later, came from the bully that was getting in his face. But he didn’t keep talking once the laughter ceased. Ben could barely even emote before his collar was roughly grabbed and Ben’s feet left the ground, swinging uselessly. Ben let out a gasp of pain as he was shoved into the lockers with a clang. “Let go,” Ben hissed through his teeth, glaring down at his classmate.
He wanted to meet up with Flamethrower.
“Oh, you want me to let go? Of course —” Ben was thrown onto the ground, hearing the laughter resume. As he fell, his backpack slipped off of his shoulders, landing on the ground just moments after his back hit the floor. It didn’t sound bad, so hopefully his computer was fine. That would be bad if it got damaged, him and his mom weren’t made of money, and if his computer were broken that would be doubly bad for his classes.
Ben tried to sit up, but the footsteps came faster. A sneaker landed square in the middle of his torso, pinning him to the ground. “Ghh—” He was stuck. He couldn’t move in a way that would get him out of this situation. The laughter around him continued.
He wanted to meet up with Flamethrower.
Jonah leaned down. Ben felt an additional weight on his chest, and distantly recalled that this particular classmate had some low-level gravity-type epithet, which explained why getting up seemed to be such a struggle for him. How did he know? Because, of course , a teenager with an ego the size of the entire country would brag about his dumb epithet. “You’re real funny, Flowerboy! ” he hissed, grin widening as he dug the front of his shoe into Ben’s chest. “Like anything you say or do could mean shit! Aw, whaddaya gonna do? Show off your non-existent powers? Call your- snrk -‘friends’? You’ve got nothing . The least you could do is use what little you do have to help people like me —” Ben was gradually tuning out his voice, not paying a bit of attention to his request to do his stupid homework for him, again . He grit his teeth. It was all just becoming noise to him.
He wanted to meet up with Flamethrower. He wanted to see one of his only friends and he wanted to actually eat lunch with another person which he never gets to do. He wanted to study for class and be prepared and ready and he wanted to do that with his friend. He wanted to get through the day and see his friends. He wanted to—He wanted to—He wanted he wanted he wanted he wanted he——
Something in Ben snapped.
See, Jonah did indeed have that epithet. That wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t that strong. Ben honestly always assumed that both Giovanni and Dark Star had higher stats than him, and he could say that since he’s found himself on the other end of his epithet more than once. This was all to say that the affected area was only where his foot was on Ben’s chest.
It wasn’t on Ben’s arms.
Ben grit his teeth, hands whipping up and grabbing his bully by the ankle before he yanked as hard as he could, sending him tumbling down to the ground with him. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t far away from his own location on the floor, so whilst he struggled to regain his bearings, now on his side, Jonah kicked out and landed a blow square in his stomach. Ben gasped out, but he didn’t curl up, shield himself further like he usually would when he was cornered. He didn’t run like he’d done in times of emergency on Banzai missions, of course at Boss’ discretion.
No, Ben let out a growl , holding his stomach for only a second before he shoved himself up to his knees. His eyes locked on the other student, and it was as if his body worked on autopilot. And Ben screamed , launching himself off the ground and at his bully. With gasps all around him, Ben and Jonah, like they’d both forgotten that they were on school property, started to fight . This had never happened before. Ben never fought back. But he was done . He was so, so, so done.
“ YOU—! ”
Much to Flamethrower’s frustration, he got out of his history class a few minutes late. It wasn’t his fault, the teacher just spent a grating amount of time explaining their next research project. The moment he was given the okay to leave, he practically bolted out, beelining straight for his locker. He didn’t intend to leave Ben waiting for long, since they both had the intentions of eating and getting plenty of studying done in their limited lunch period, so he had to be quick.
Ben seemed a bit down this morning when he’d gotten to homeroom, already resting his upper body on his desk from the moment he’d sat down. He perked up when Flamethrower got his attention, but, still, he wanted to make sure he was doing alright. Hopefully, the rest of the day would be better, both with their study session and their classes in the afternoon. He hummed lightly, quickly stopping by his locker to switch out his textbooks and dig around for his lunch bag.
He mentally cursed himself for not having reorganized his locker before; due to multiple factors, he had his cheer supplies stuffed in here as well on top of everything else already in there, so getting to anything without disturbing his Jenga tower of belongings was an absolute nightmare. And yet, Flamethrower prevailed! He swung his bag around, tucking both the textbook and his lunch into his backpack before zipping it up completely and kicking his locker closed.
Alright! Perfect! Now, time to head on over to the library and m—
A distant scream cut through Flamethrower’s head—no, his entire being . It was raw, it was loud . But, terrifyingly enough, it was familiar in a way that made Flamethrower’s hair stand on end, a yell he hadn’t heard in weeks , one he hadn’t even witnessed to that caliber before. He knew who that scream belonged to. He knew who that was, he knew for a fact. The library immediately shifted to the back of his mind, and he turned on his heels, running towards the noise.
Oh God, oh God, please be okay, please be okay… It was that same phrase, running over and over and over again in Flamethrower’s mind like a broken record as his shoes slammed against the floor with every step, echoing throughout the halls. Something else was echoing, too: more voices. Wherever he was, he wasn’t alone, and that made him all the more nervous. He quickened his pace, turning the corner and seeing not him, but a crowd.
Oh no.
Not wasting another second, Flamethrower made his way to the crowd and pushed through. “Outta the way—” he gasped out, shoving past another person. “Let me through! I need to—” As he broke through the crowd, his voice trailed off, his eyes widening to an almost unimaginable degree. His heart dropped as he took in the scene in front of him.
Tussling on the ground were two of his classmates. One was someone else he knew was on one of the other varsity teams, but in the chaos he was currently bearing witness to, he couldn’t make out who it was. It certainly wasn’t anybody on the cheerleading squad, he knew that for an absolute fact.
The other was Ben .
The state of his best friend was unlike anything he’d ever seen from the boy in his life. Maybe he’d been like this before, and he’d hidden it well enough, and Flamethrower had simply never noticed. But the past was far from his mind at the moment; all he could think about was how he looked like now . His hair was an absolute mess, sleeves uneven and collar more undone than how Ben usually styled it. Hell, Flamethrower could swear that there were slight rips in the fabric on both his sweater vest and his jeans. But what sickened him the most was, well, the injuries Ben had sustained since… whatever this was started. It was hard to tell from this angle, Ben’s back mostly to him as he fought with the other boy despite his collar being grabbed at, but, even from here, Flamethrower could clearly spot both blood and bruises.
Ben was dealt a nasty blow to the face, causing him to cry out again and recoil, only to kick back in turn, the grip on his collar releasing. It was difficult to watch. Flamethrower couldn’t just stand there and let this happen. He forced the shock out of his mind, forced himself to move , he needed to put a stop to this. Rushing forwards, Flamethrower grabbed Ben’s arm and pulled him back, away from the violence. “ Ben— ”
The shorter boy whipped around to look at Flamethrower, the desperate sentence crumbling apart in his throat. He was glaring , and internally Flamethrower kicked himself for forgetting that Ben, especially when he was upset, was not good with any kind of touch unless he knew about it. But, even then, he could tell that Ben wasn’t glaring because of that. Even from only witnessing Ben fight for a minute, he knew that, whatever anger was inside of him, it exploded now, and was still clear on his face. This train of thought was still running as Ben—
Flamethrower watched as Ben registered who had grabbed him. Watched as his entire posture froze, as his eyes widened and a look filled with so much yet so little emotion covered his entire face. At that moment, it was just the two of them. Nothing but Flamethrower looking at Ben, at his bruise-covered face and fucked-up knuckles and nose that was bleeding enough to make the faint-of-heart collapse. And Ben did nothing but stare blankly back, like a train was speeding right towards him as he stood motionlessly on the tracks.
“What is all that noise— WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?! ”
Flamethrower hated the school’s faculty for only showing up after the damage was already done. His head snapped up, hands not letting go of Ben as the school admin stormed over to the chaos, the crowd already beginning to disperse.
“I-” Jonah, that was that asshole’s name, Ben’s opponent—no, not just that, his bully—started to choke out from the floor. “- He started it! He attacked me!” A finger jabbed at Ben. Ben didn’t react.
The admin raised an eyebrow. “Is that true? ” Nobody confirmed the accusation, but nobody spoke up to debunk it, either. What little of the student body that made up the “audience” of the fight remained murmured quietly among each other. Flamethrower bit back a few choice words as he pulled Ben a bit closer to him and looked up at the school admin, forcing himself into the more professional persona he’d perfected once he really got serious about varsity sports.
“It is not,” he responded cooly, though a keen eye would notice that his face just barely masked pure, unadulterated rage . “Jonah Jonson has a track record of harassing other members of the student body, including him—” Flamethrower let go of Ben with one hand to gesture at the other student on the ground, then his friend, before continuing. “—And Ben Hyacinthe here has bore the brunt of a lot of harm on school property, all of which should be in both of their files, should it not? ” His head tilted down a bit, taking a deep yet slightly shaky breath. “The security footage should clear it up, as well. Right?”
It seemed like the school admin had not expected any student to actually say anything, as she blinked a few times before nodding. “That is…correct, Mr…?”
“Casey Stoker,” Flamethrower responded in an even tone. To be honest, he’d grown so used to the squad-assigned nicknames that it felt odd to say his full name like that.
“Yes. Thank you, Mr. Stoker. Regardless of the outcome, however, both students are being sent to the principal’s office, immediately .” The admin stood up straighter, and, noticing that Flamethrower had yet to let go of Ben, tutted and pulled Jonah off the ground and started down the hall. “You bring him with you.”
“I-” The facade broke a bit; at the end of the day, Flamethrower, too, was a teenage boy. “Uh-Yes, ma’am. Right behind you.” The rest of the students leaving after a few long glances, Flamethrower let go of Ben entirely, only to wrap one arm around the shorter boy’s shoulders and hold one of his hands with the opposite hand, gently guiding Ben down the hall, keeping close behind the admin.
In the near-silence of the hallways, Flamethrower glanced over at his friend. “Ben, are you…okay?” he whispered, just loud enough for the other to hear.
Ben didn’t respond. Didn’t look up, even.
Flamethrower gulped, turning his focus back ahead as they neared the principal’s office. What he’d said back there, as far as he knew, wasn’t a lie. Ben’d quietly admitted to him once that, even though he’s tried and failed over the years to report people like Jonah in the school, the faculty never did anything about it, and, well, neither did Ben . He probably had more in his file with the nurse’s office than with the principal.
And, well, Jonah was a Grade-A douchebag who was, from what Flamethrower’s seen, so cocky about his epithet and “how much he’s trained it” that he’s used it to cheat multiple times in gym class. Something Flamethrower thought was embarrassing, given that Jonah was, just like him, one of the many students affiliated with a varsity sport.
The school admin led the three of them into the main office, stopping in front of the principal’s office door. She turned to look over at Flamethrower. “You can go now, Mr. Stoker.”
“I—” Flamethrower blinked in surprise, not letting go of Ben. “But-Ben—”
“ Mr. Hyacinthe will be fine. In the event that the principal requests your testimony, you will be called back down to the office to speak with him. Please, run along.”
“...Okay, ma’am.” Flamethrower, after a moment’s hesitation, released his grip on Ben, carefully unwinding his arm from around his shoulders and stepping away. He looked at Ben, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Ben?” he asked quietly, giving him the slightest bit of a shake. “Are you going to be alright?”
Ben didn’t speak. Instead, he just barely turned his head to look at Flamethrower. It was the same shell-shocked, empty look from before. “...” That was all the response he gave.
Flamethrower frowned, letting go but not looking away from Ben. “Text me any updates, okay? Please . Good luck.” He didn’t want to, he didn’t want to leave his friend alone, but in the eyes of the administration he had no choice but to go. With a sigh, Flamethrower turned, quietly exiting the office with his hands balled into fists tight enough to make his skin pale. Like his body was working on autopilot, he headed to the library to study and eat his lunch. Only, he couldn’t focus very much, and his appetite was basically nonexistent.
It was an hour and a half before he watched the school admin go past his classroom, carrying Ben’s winter coat under one arm and his backpack in the other.
Another hour passed before he got a simple text from Ben, something almost uncharacteristic for him. All it read was: “ suspended 4 a week ”. Flamethrower had immediately texted back, asking what was going on, what Jonah’s punishment was. He never got a response back.
…The meeting with the other Boys this afternoon wouldn’t be pleasant, would it.
The rest of the squad were already in the treehouse by the time Flamethrower arrived.
That already was an indicator of bad news, if the others had noticed; while it wasn’t like they all had a set time to show up, life tended to have them show up like clockwork. Giovanni was always first, followed by Crusher close behind. If Car Crash could show up, he’d be next, and sometimes Dark Star would follow him in. It depended on the day. With their paces, Flamethrower and Ben got to the meeting as fast as they could after the bell rang. Spike would show up last.
Unfortunately for him, every step Flamethrower took on his way there felt like he was dragging one-ton weights. He should be excited for the meeting, just like any other meeting. But he just couldn’t , he was alone , there was nobody walking but him because Ben , because he…it was so HARD to think of anything. Anything at all. The idea of the inevitable questions that would come when he showed up only served to tug further at his chest.
Alas, his dread had a finish line. He stared up at the treehouse, the muffled sound of chatter emanating from it, and knew he had no choice but to head up. Just…not appearing at all would only worry them more than they already would be. Taking a shaky breath, Flamethrower gripped the rungs of the rope ladder, carefully climbing up to the top. One step at a time.
Dark Star was the first to notice him as he struggled his way up, holding out a hand for Flamethrower to grab. He nodded gratefully, taking his hand and letting himself get pulled into the treehouse. Flamethrower clambered to his feet once he was on solid ground, dusting himself off. Dark Star smiled at him.
“Glad you finally showed up, man,” Dark Star said as he collapsed back into one of the bean bags. “We were all wonderin’ about it.”
“I…yeah,” Flamethrower stuttered out, not making any move to take a seat himself. Before he—or Dark Star—could exchange any more words, Giovanni rushed over to him, prompting the rest of the guys to perk up as they realized he’d arrived.
Giovanni was reorganizing several note-ridden papers in his arms as he spoke. “So glad you showed up! I have a lot of plans I’ve been working on for the past few days, I got some ideas from Bear Trap and I’ve been waiting for attendance to be complete before I go over all of it!”
“Sorry I was late, but…”
“HE WROTE A LOT ,” Crusher spoke up from behind him. “YOU SHOULD SEE IT.”
“And he will! Once—”
“We were about to spam text you guys,” Car Crash spoke up from his seat next to Dark Star. “You just missed a really long debate about that.”
“Well, I…”
“It was split. Truly a mess.”
“But now that you’ve arrived—”
“Wait,” Spike spoke up, pushing past Crusher and Giovanni and staring up at Flamethrower. Their brow was furrowed. They stared at Flamethrower, looking around, then peeking out the window, before they returned to their place in front of him, arms now crossed. “ Where’s Ben. ”
The chatter in the treehouse evaporated in an instant. All eyes went to Flamethrower, who felt the same way he did the first time he performed in front of the school as part of the cheer squad. Yet, somehow, he was a bit more nauseous than last time.
Giovanni’s excited smile seemed to drop, becoming more of a look of concern than anything. “Spike’s right. Flamethrower! Where is he? You two usually show up together!”
Flamethrower winced. “He’s…not showing up today,” he mumbled, hands balling right back into fists, just like they had when he’d left the office earlier. “I was trying to tell you guys.”
“Why?”
“Is he sick or something? We can—”
Flamethrower waved his hand to stop the questions. “It’s not that, he’s…” He stared down at his shoes. He couldn’t look at them when he said this, not even for Ben’s sake. “Ben got suspended during school today.”
The silence was broken by an almost simultaneous uproar.
“ Ben got suspended?! Are you sure they didn’t get the wrong person?”
“Yes.”
“Then-Then they must be overreacting! He wouldn’t— couldn’t —do anything that bad that they’d suspend him like that!”
“I…don’t know about that. I don’t think he deserves that punishment, but…” Flamethrower trailed off, wanting to be looking anywhere but at his friends. He couldn’t avoid telling them forever, but, still, it was so, so hard for the words to come out. It took so long for Ben to tell him about the personal issues he was facing; there was no chance in hell he’d told anybody else besides maybe Spike more than the bare minimum about his situation.
And he couldn’t be here to make that choice himself.
If his Boss’ face wasn’t worried sick when he first told them the news, it certainly was now . “Flamethrower,” he said quietly, “What… happened? Were you there or something?”
“I, well, for part of it, yeah.” Flamethrower rubbed his arm anxiously. “Can I sit down?”
“Oh—of course!” In seconds, he was led over to the bean bags, Car Crash and Dark Star having made space in between the two of them. Flamethrower collapsed onto them with a sigh, then proceeded to sit up, staring at his hands. He took a deep breath. In, and out. These were their friends. His friends, Ben’s friends…what he did, especially with the context, wouldn’t change how they felt about him. He had faith in them that that wasn’t going to be the outcome.
Flamethrower’s hands folded in his lap, and he, finally, met everybody else’s expectant gaze. “Ben got into a fight,” he started carefully, navigating the explanation with a slowness that was normally unexpected of him. “I didn’t see the start of it, but it was during lunch. Ben looked worse than the other guy, but, really, it was like the two of them had the shit beat out of them. They had an audience, too, which…wasn’t great.”
He felt Car Crash lean forwards. “Y’think I-I know the guy he was fighting?” Right. He wasn’t present a lot due to pre-college courses, but Car Crash was in the same grade at their school.
Flamethrower tipped his head at him. “You know Jonah?”
“Eugh. Okay, carry on.”
“I was able to get Ben out of the fight, and he was mad that he got grabbed, because of course he was, why wouldn’t he, but when he realized it was me , he just…” He aimlessly gestured with his hands. “ Froze . Had this wide-eyed, blank look from the moment he recognized me to when I had to leave him at the principal’s office. Like he was in, I don’t know, shock or something.”
Spike readjusted themself so they were sitting down in front of Flamethrower. As they started to speak, Crusher and Giovanni both did the same, the latter putting his notes aside in favor of pressing his palms together in his lap. “Ben’s not a fighter,” they said, blinking a few times. “ I’m a fighter. You’re a fighter. Boss is a fighter. But Ben? He’s…I didn’t think he was even capable of…why?” Their head whipped around to Car Crash. “Fred. You knew the guy? Both of you knew the guy?”
“I, uh—”
“Jonah and Ben have history,” Flamethrower cut in with a wave. “They, well-Ben told me recently. He’s one of the guys who’s been bothering Ben for a long time, since before any of us ever even met Ben.”
“‘One of the guys’? You mean multiple people are bullying him?”
“Yeah. I only found out recently, and I’ve been trying to help the best I can, and-but—” Flamethrower took a shaky breath, both hands dragging down his face as he kept his bearings. “I don’t know what Jonah did, but, I… fuck. Ben snapped . I’m not exaggerating. I’ve never seen that much emotion from him, ever .”
“Was it that bad?”
“I heard him scream from an entire hallway over,” he responded quickly to Dark Star. “So, um. Yeah, I think so.”
Silence once again took over the treehouse as the squad slowly processed everything that Flamethrower had just told them. In the interim, Flamethrower nervously fidgeted with one of the sleeves of his varsity jacket. On the tierlist of “actually talking about their problems”, he and Ben were on the lower end of it. So all of this was new waters for him. Suddenly, he understood how Ben felt during cheer practice, in a way.
Spike’s sigh broke through the quiet. “Is…do you know if he’s okay? Not —Not physically, he was in a fight so he’s not in that department, but…fuck, you know…” They tapped their head as if to emphasize their point.
“ Oh . Uh.” Flamethrower turned a bit, grabbing his phone from his pocket and turning it on. He hadn’t checked it since his several texts to Ben elicited no response back. To his surprise, there was only one new text from him, which only served to answer his question of what Jonah’s punishment was. All it read was “ longer suspension ”. That was it. “I’m not sure, actually. These were the texts from after, uh. That.” He placed his phone screen-up on the ground so the other Boys could read the minimal conversation between the two of them earlier that afternoon.
Car Crash spoke first. “Ben doesn’t type like that! ”
“Was gonna say, Fred,” Spike chimed in with a shake of the head. “The capitalization’s like him, but he uses a lot of punctuation. And his texts are usually pretty damn expressive.”
“It’s bad,” Flamethrower mumbled, “I know. I’d be shocked if he was fine after that.” The image of Ben’s horrified, beaten-up expression when he stared at him replayed over and over in his mind. He had to leave him. He had no choice but to leave him. But he couldn’t just let him be alone. He couldn’t let Ben think whatever he was probably thinking right now after what happened. “...We have to go see him.”
“Won’t you see him in school?”
“Suspended for a week , remember? I don’t think it would be a good idea to just leave him until next week. I just…don’t know what we could do.”
“ Well! ” Giovanni yelled as he suddenly sprung to his feet, rushing over to the table that had been pushed to the opposite wall of the treehouse, right below a whiteboard that at some point got hung up there. Flamethrower never asked how he and Crusher had been able to pull that off without damaging the foundations of the structure. He was shuffling among the contents of the tabletop for a few moments before making a noise of relief, holding up a dry erase marker and spinning around to look at everybody.
“ New plan for today’s meeting! Figure-out-a-thing-for-Ben!” Giovanni stood there for a second, then cleared his throat. “Name is subject to change! Alllll- righty then!” His expression was still deadly serious, no smile to be found on his face, but, regardless, he pointed the marker at the rest of the boys on the other side of the room. “ Let’s start brainstorming! ”
To his immense surprise, Ben hadn’t been grounded following his suspension and his mom picking him up that afternoon. When he’d gotten into the passenger seat, bandaged hands fumbling to buckle his seatbelt, he felt himself already beginning to curl up, steeling himself for whatever additional consequence he was going to face. His mom didn’t say a word the entire drive home, but when they pulled into the driveway, she’d just sighed and looked at him.
“I wish you didn’t resort to fighting,” she started, and Ben already felt himself wanting to leap out of the car and run away as fast as he could.
“‘m sorry,” he’d begun to whisper, but she held up a hand to stop him before he could finish.
“What I was going to say, Benjamin, is that, while I wish you didn’t fight your classmate, I understand why you did. I’m glad they gave him a longer suspension, at least. Just…tell me, if this happens again after you go back, and I’ll give the administration another piece of my mind. Okay?”
Ben couldn’t do anything else but nod. She stepped out of the car, grabbing Ben’s belongings under one arm before walking around to the other side and opening the door for him. He was given the instructions to rest, get the homework he could do whenever he felt up to it, but, well, that was it . Which left Ben by himself, in his room, bruised and heavily patched up with bandages and aching all over.
…
Just because he wasn’t in trouble at home, just because his only punishment was the week-long suspension the school had given him, doesn’t mean he couldn’t punish himself . Not exactly , but, when he’s left alone in his room, all he has is himself and his thoughts. And all he could think about was the fight. Nothing else was taking residence in his brain, and Ben hated it, he hated it so, so much.
He’d never done that. The closest he’d ever gotten to fighting back was arguing, and all that yielded was getting shoved into a locker or his books being slapped to the ground. But fighting? That’s something he barely even knew how to do prior to joining the Banzais. Never in his life did he think he’d throw a punch. He didn’t…he didn’t think he had it in him. He didn’t know what came over him. One second, he was prepared to run, or curl up and let it happen.
The next second, he was on the floor, wrestling with Jonah as he tried to land every single punch and kick that he threw at him, all the while screaming with so much rage that his body had internalized for so long and had no choice but to let out.
Even after having his wounds cleaned up and bandaged, Ben could swear he could still taste the iron in his mouth. He felt gross.
Every waking moment, when Ben didn’t have a distractor, like a book or a video game or a meal, his mind just wouldn’t shut up , not for a second. What’s wrong with you? it yelled incredulously; had his conscious been a real person, he’s sure it would be shaking him violently by the shoulders until his head started spinning. What do you think everybody’s going to think of you now? It’ll be worse now! You know that!
“I know,” he’d whisper hoarsely back to nothing. It would continue to repeat the same thoughts as if it hadn’t heard his acknowledgment.
One night, his brain had a new tidbit to offer to him, one that, consequently, caused him to stay up all night, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. You’re no better than any of them , it sighed, Not the Banzais, not Jonah, not any of your other bullies .
He didn’t want it to be right. But, instead of ignoring those thoughts, shoving them away, he lay there with eyes wide open, hugging his favorite dog plushie tight enough that he thought it would burst into a mess of stuffing with any more force.
Unfortunately, his mom couldn’t be home all the time during his week-long suspension. She had a job, and his situation wasn’t enough to warrant her managers letting her have the week off, nor for her to use her leave in any capacity. She was clearly worried for him every day she left out the front door for work, but, from his place on the landing of their short stairwell, he quietly reassured her that he’d be fine. He was a teenager , not a little kid. Besides, it’s not like he’s never stayed home alone before, or been alone on a mission before. He could handle himself.
Maybe he just never noticed before on account of actually having things going on, but in the dead of winter, it certainly did get dark outside fast . The past few days, Ben would sit and watch as the sun disappeared below the horizon outside his window just like that. He’d never make any move to turn on the lights if they weren’t already on, though. It…was better for him if he didn’t have to face himself in the mirror.
He didn’t know what would be staring back at him.
It was one of those nights. His mom had texted him to start dinner without her, the task she’d been working on unfortunately meant she had to stay at the office late. Ben simply answered back with a thumbs up and a “ stay safe ” before hobbling his way downstairs—his body still, miraculously, ached slightly from the fight—and grabbing a box of pasta from the pantry. For the next thirty minutes or so, he remained in the kitchen, silently prepping his food and eating it all by himself at the four-chair kitchen table that never hosted more than two. He didn’t want to think about any of that too hard, especially not right now.
Once everything was cleaned and put away, he’d trudged back to his room, dragging one of his extra blankets over to his bed and wrapping himself in it, grabbing his DS from his nightstand on the way and hiding himself in the fabric as much as possible. In the darkness, he could just barely be made out in contrast to the rest of the items in the room and the shows they cast. The only indicator of his presence was the screen of his console lighting up what little of his face wasn’t covered by the blanket.
…
……
Through his headphones, Ben heard the sound of a tap-tap-tap coming from the window in his room. He jolted in surprise, taking off the headphones and looking around. From where he was sitting, he couldn’t see anything through the window. Ben raised an eyebrow. It could just be the wind or something; the weather today wasn’t severe enough to shake the foundations of the house, but he wouldn’t be shocked if the mystery noise was a branch hitting the glass.
He was about to put his headphones back on when it returned, this time louder, and a bit more rhythmic than before. Tap-tap-tap-tap , like something was intentionally hitting against his window. Against his better judgement, Ben clambered to his feet, not removing the blanket as he dragged himself over to where the sound appeared to be coming from. He could’ve sworn he heard whispers as he approached, though they quickly tapered off.
Taking a deep breath, Ben looked out the window.
If he weren’t so exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally, he probably would have yelled and tripped over his own feet in shock. But, despite his surprise, he blinked slowly at the faces staring back at him, more confused than anything.
Ben was honestly shocked that all six of them somehow maneuvered themselves onto the tree in his backyard without somebody getting injured, or worse. It was admirable, really. Though it was a tad bit difficult to tell who was who in the darkness, it was clear as day that, inches away from his window, was none other than Flamethrower. Tipping his head, Ben unlatched the window, pushing it up before his hands returned to the edges of the blanket.
“What’re y’doin here…?” he asked hoarsely, voice cracking from both how much he used it that fateful school day and how little he’d used it since.
Flamethrower smiled at him, something Ben didn’t even attempt to reciprocate. He didn’t think he could . “We wanted to come see you. Figured the company would be nice.”
“‘s this a pity thing.”
“What—” Flamethrower stared at him incredulously. “—I- Of course not! We’re your friends, and besides, I’ve been worried to hell about you!”
“...I don’t…” Ben took a step back, pulling the blanket closer to him. With all of the eyes on him, he felt like he was in some kind of interrogation session, like the ones on TV where the detective’s pointing in the suspect’s face while a fluorescent light swings overhead. It was too much, his chest felt tight, and all he wanted to do was hide . “It’s…too much , I…um…” What was wrong with him? The words just weren’t coming out all of the sudden.
Flamethrower frowned at him, turning back to the other boys for a few seconds before looking back at Ben. “Is it okay if it’s just me, then?”
Ben hesitated for almost a minute before he slowly nodded, stepping back towards the window and pushing up the screen so that Flamethrower would be able to climb in. After exchanging a few quiet words with the guys, he turned back, reaching out in order to help Ben pull him inside. As Ben helped him into his room, out of the corner of his eye, he could see the rest of the squad carefully climbing back down the tree. The moment Flamethrower’s shoes hit the carpet, Ben swiftly closed both the screen and the window before he limped back over to his bed, curling up in the same position he’d been in before the others showed up.
“Ben?” Flamethrower’s voice, softer than normal, spoke through the darkness. “Can I turn a light on? I, ha, can’t really see much…”
He pondered on that for a second. He really, really didn’t want to be seen more than was absolutely necessary, and the dark was oddly comforting to him right now as opposed to the normal fear that it brought. But if it was detrimental to Flamethrower, and his friend, then he…he… “There’s a lamp on my nightstand. You can turn that on, it’s bright enough.”
In the darkness, he heard the shuffling of Flamethrower removing his shoes before his socks padded on the carpet towards his bed. A few minutes passed, then light filled the room. Ben instinctively flinched away from the lamp, tugging the blanket in a way that shielded him from the glare and, additionally, Flamethrower as well. Ben pulled his legs back towards his chest, giving him room to climb onto the bed next to him. Neither said a word as Flamethrower sat next to Ben, cross-legged.
Flamethrower was the first to speak. “So, it’s been a few days,” he started nervously, “I brought the homework from our shared classes that you missed, and I was able to get stuff from the rest of your teachers, too, because we scared our schedules once, but you already know that, of course. I don’t think many people have been talking about what happened, at the very least none of the kids on the track team that Jonah was on are, I’ve been keeping an eye on it, nobody’s asked me about you, either, so, uh, you don’t have to worry about that. And-And, there was stuff on your locker on like, Monday , but I cleaned it off and there hasn’t been anything since.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “I just—after seeing what happened, I was really worried about you, I didn’t really expect it but it made perfect sense, I ended up telling the guys but you weren’t responding to any of my messages and——”
“ Casey. ” Ben’s voice was still awfully scratchy, but was more audible than anything else he’d said that night. “Stop. Please .” There was a tremor to his words that was just barely noticeable. Flamethrower, upon hearing Ben use his real name, something none of the Boys ever did with one another unless they were undercover or something serious was going on, shut up immediately.
Ben could feel Flamethrower’s gaze on him, but he didn’t say a word. He was just so tired . In his mind, part of him had already accepted that none of the Boys would see him the same way again. What he’d done was so unlike him. So different from who they knew, than the persona and the mask he’s built up since long before they met each other. He didn’t know what that made him, but it certainly wasn’t a person they’d want to be around anymore. It certainly wasn’t Ben .
Especially Flamethrower. Ben still remembered what it felt when he realized that his own best friend had witnessed the expulsion of his pent-up rage. It was like a weight had been dropped into his chest, like if Flamethrower had let go of his arm then, he would have collapsed and broken a hole into the floor of the school, sending him spiraling into the abyss. And yet he didn’t. Why? Days later, he still didn’t understand. Why did Flamethrower stay? Why did he come with him to the office? Why did he defend him? Why did he argue to not leave when the admin told him to? The confusion made his head pound.
Ben just couldn’t comprehend why someone would want to stay around… whatever he was.
He didn’t want Flamethrower to keep looking at him. Making a quiet noise, he pulled the blanket down ever-further so most of him was hidden by the blanket. That would be a useful epithet , he thought absently to himself as the blanket was readjusted. Being invisible. Silently, he repeated that thought in his head, pleading for something to stick. Invisible, visibility, hidden, unseen, secret… No dice. Nothing gave him that spark that he’d always heard about.
Well, he’s lost all hope already. It didn’t hurt to try.
“...Benny?”
Ben froze where he sat. He could barely think of any time when any of the Boys called him that. It was one of those things similar to the taboo of using each others’ “real names”, something Ben tended to be separate from for obvious reasons. If they had that, then Ben’s equivalent was calling him any nickname that wouldn’t be considered “silly”, like “Ben-jammin” or “Dogboy”. “Benny” was different. It was like a hug versus a pat on the shoulder. Something softly whispered instead of yelled from across the sidewalk. In his mind, Ben didn’t think he deserved to hear that, to be called that.
And yet, here Flamethrower was, calling him that . Ben didn’t meet his eyes, only shrinking even more into the fabric.
“ Benny ,” Flamethrower repeated, a bit louder this time. Ben could feel the phantom sensation of someone’s hand just inches away from his head. He didn’t acknowledge it. “You don’t have to look at me. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But, um…” He shuffled a bit. “...I want to hear what happened. From you . Not from whatever I saw only half of or whatever our classmates are saying.”
Ben slightly tipped his head towards Flamethrower, eyebrow raising in suspicion. The shadows plus the blanket made it a tad bit difficult for him to properly make out the other boy’s expression, but all that mattered was that Flamethrower could recognize his .
His next response made it clear that he had. “Trust me. Whatever happened, that’s not you , I know that, but you wouldn’t have just gotten physical with somebody for no reason. And, before you ask, Benny, no , I don’t think you were just ‘pretending’ to be passive. You’re a teenager, just like me. I know you.”
“...” Ben let out a quiet sigh. “You really wanna listen to me? After that? ”
“Sending both you and your bully to the nurse’s office isn’t some cardinal sin. I-Ben, are you seriously asking me of all people that? You’re not even the first person to throw punches in our friend group! The only people that it would be even stupider to ask that question to are Boss and Spike! That doesn’t change you in my eyes.” His tone lowered once again after a few moments. “Take your time, okay? I won’t leave. Well, unless your mom comes home and kicks me out, but I think she’s nicer than that.”
“Okay,” he whispered, making no motion to move from his position, despite how his heart ached to curl up against his friend’s side. “Um. Give me a second.”
“I understand.”
Ben took a few calculated deep breaths, his chest rattling with every inhale and exhale. “I was just…” his hands let go of their vice grip on the blanket’s edges as he started to speak. “I was just trying to get my stuff. So we could study together. I was, um. Excited to do that. But when I went to grab my lunch from my locker, I…Jonah shoved me into it. I pushed him back and he started on the same stuff he always does.”
“Same stuff…?”
“Typical bully crap. It’s whatever, usually. He got worse when I tried to tell him to leave me alone. I don’t know why I even said that, I just…was impatient. I didn’t want to make you wait, you were choosing to spend time with me in the library instead of hanging out with your other friends. At some point he threw me to the ground, and was taunting me, and…” Ben trailed off. It was during that point that something in him cracked. It was then that he started throwing punches of his own.
Flamethrower seemed to understand what he was trying to say. “...That’s when you guys started fighting,” he finished nervously.
“Mhm. I don’t-It’s kind of blurry after that. I was just so, so, so mad, and I wanted him to stop bothering me for once , and I was just—” Ben had started to shake. He waved his hands around in frustration, his volume rising as he continued. “I don’t know! I was just so done and I was so tired and I wanted him to j-just fuck off and feel how I felt and I wanted to stop hurting and I-I-I don’t know what came over me, I couldn’t stop and everything in my head just burst out and-and——”
“ Whoa . Uh. Permission to grab your wrist?”
Ben started at Flamethrower, his vision blurred and his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I-um? I—”
“Nod for yes, a-and shake for no.”
Ben gasped for breath and nodded. In moments, his wrist was taken with the gentlest of touches, pressing up against Flamethrower’s chest. He couldn’t speak. His head was spinning and he was so disoriented that he couldn’t think straight.
Distantly, he heard Flamethrower continue to speak. “Mimic my breathing. You are not breathing properly right now, so just…follow me. You can do this.” All Ben could do was nod again, slowly but surely copying how Flamethrower was breathing. Every inhale he took felt like spikes, it hurt and he hated it, but he kept trying. He didn’t want to go out like that. Hyperventilating from a panic attack would probably not fare well for him or his friend.
It took several minutes for Ben’s heartbeat to remotely imitate what heart rates are supposed to be. His chest still heaved, but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to pass out entirely anymore. At some point, Flamethrower had let go of his wrist, his other arm choosing to rest around Ben’s shoulders instead. A part of him was still a bit averse to touch, but he was realizing as the seconds ticked on that the blanket separating him from Flamethrower helped cushion the feeling, if only by a little bit.
“You good now…?” Flamethrower asked after another full minute had passed.
Ben opened and closed his mouth experimentally, making sure he wasn’t going to start gasping for breath again, before he responded. “U-Um. Yeah. ‘m good.”
“Good, good.” The tension in Flamethrower’s entire body next to him seemed to evaporate with that, much to Ben’s relief. “I got worried. You, uh, spiralled really quick there, I got scared.”
“Sorry.”
“If you apologize again for something you can’t control, I’m going to sic Spike on you.”
“I-” Ben couldn’t help but make a noise almost akin to a laugh at that. It grated on his throat. “-Okay. I’m not going to question you on that.”
“Anyways. … Wow . Yeah, I think he deserved all of that, but, geez, I didn’t realize the situation had gotten to that point before I showed up.”
“How did you, um, find out about it?” Ben asked quietly, “I was confused when you showed up. You weren't there the whole time, were you…?”
Flamethrower shook his head. “ God , no,” he huffed, “If I had been there probably wouldn’t have been much of a fight. To be honest, I was walking towards the library from my locker when I heard you scream.”
Ben’s head whipped around fully. “You heard me?”
“Yeah. Hallways have great acoustics, apparently. …God, I sound like Dark Star. But, yeah, I both hate that you were in so much pain that you yelled and am so, so glad you did because I might not have found you until it was too late otherwise.”
“I. Uh. You’re…welcome for screaming?”
“Sure, let’s go with that.”
Ben chuckled a bit, but his lightened mood quickly fizzled out into nothing again, and he looked away, already wanting to hide in the blanket once more. It was like a switch had been flipped in his brain and he hadn’t the slightest idea why. So much yet so little had come of the conversation with Flamethrower; even after being told multiple times, he just couldn’t shake that impending feeling of dread. He shakily lifted his hands and pulled the blanket back around him.
“It’s okay if you want to hide in the blanket,” Flamethrower said from his side, “But can you at least look at me a bit? Or turn to face me? Whatever you’re more comfortable with.” Ben blinked in confusion. He could handle that, couldn’t he? He was a big kid, he was almost an adult, he could handle a normal conversation . Carefully, he shifted himself over, keeping a steady grip on the blanket as he moved towards Flamethrower’s general location. “There we go. What’s up, dude?”
“I…I don’t know ,” Ben forced out, staring at the comforter instead of Flamethrower. “I…I…It’s weird. I don’t understand why you guys came to see me. I don’t understand how you saw that , not only that but you told everybody else , and you guys are still…” He gestured at Flamethrower.
“Still what?” Flamethrower asked gently.
“ Here. I’m—I’m a—I don’t know what I am, I’m a freak or a monster or something , you shouldn’t want to be around me! You and the others deserve better than that! Than this! ”
“But I don’t want ‘better’, Benny. I want you to be my friend.”
Any argument Ben had as a retort to Flamethrower’s words vanished immediately upon hearing those words come out of his mouth. What?
“And I’m sure all of the others would agree with me.”
What?
His mind was racing at a mile a minute. Even after everything, after the fight, after finding out what Ben had done, after having to have dealt with him all this time, they still wanted to—wanted to——
“Hey, don’t cry—”
Ben immediately rubbed at his face, wincing as he noticed the tear stains on his sleeve. “I’m not crying,” he retorted, rubbing his eyes again. He was not going to do that right now.
“Okay, okay…” Flamethrower slowly nodded, then held up a finger. “Hey, do you mind closing your eyes for a second?”
“Is this some kind of ambush?”
“No. If you open your eyes and the rest of the guys are somehow here, I had nothing to do with it. Just do it.” Ben still had no idea what in the world Flamethrower was about to do, but he did what he was told, shutting his eyes tight. A few minutes of rustling followed; Ben could feel the weight shift on the bed a few times, the bedframe creaking along with it. His patience had started to wear when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. “You can open them now.”
Ben cracked his eyes open, and held in front of him was…a large gift bag? “What’s this all about?”
Flamethrower tipped his head with a grin, his face still mostly obscured by the bag. “Just a gift from me and the guys!”
“For…?”
“Just open it!” The bag was thrust forward until it was inches from his face. Ben’s curiosity won out against his deep-rooted suspicion over the mysterious gift, and he reached forwards to grab it from Flamethrower, careful to make sure that his blanket didn’t slip off of him. He rested the bag in his lap, pushing past the tissue paper and pulling out what was in there. His eyes widened as he realized what he was holding.
“This is a plushie of a bouquet,” he whispered, eyebrows raising. “A big one.”
“And it’s got hyacinths in it!” Flamethrower added, “Like your name! We brainstormed for a few hours the day it all, uh, happened , and the consensus was this. Because you like flowers, and we’ve seen plushies in your room before, and—”
Ben slapped a hand over his mouth.
Flamethrower trailed off. “What’s the matter?”
Despite himself, despite how much he’d been trying to hold everything back and not let himself feel this or feel anything else, Ben held the plushie close to his chest and began to sob. “I-I, Flameth— Casey , I—”
“Hey, dude, it’s-okay, c’mere, I got you—” Ben suddenly felt himself get pulled into a tight embrace by Flamethrower and made no effort to push away or fight it, because he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to let go or for Flamethrower to let go of him, lest he disappear like he thought he always wanted to do, like he thought would inevitably happen. He let out a wail, burying himself in Flamethrower’s jacket. All the while, he made several attempts to speak, apologize, say anything to him, but nothing was coming out. Nothing but gasps or unintelligible noise.
Ben had no idea how long he was crying for. Maybe Flamethrower started crying, too. He didn’t know. If he did, Ben wouldn’t tell the others. Eventually, his cries subsided; his face was wet and his bangs were sticking to his face, but at least there were no more tears. He let out a weak sigh, resting his head on Flamethrower’s shoulder. “...Sorry,” he mumbled.
“ The last person I texted was Spike ,” Flamethrower jokingly reminded him. Ben couldn’t help himself and burst out laughing, having to hold onto Flamethrower with one arm so he didn’t go tumbling right off of the bed and onto the floor. Flamethrower responded in kind with a snort, laughing just as hard. He stifled a few more giggles before looking down at Ben. “So, um. Your suspension, it doesn’t end until Sunday. How’s a sleepover sound? Might help you feel better, and, besides, I think the others are going to start building another treehouse if we leave them out in your yard any longer.”
Ben blinked in surprise at the proposition. “I mean, I’d have to call my mom,” he began, “But what about you and everybody else? Pajamas and stuff?”
“We don’t live far! We can go back and get our belongings once you give us the okay. How’s that sound? A last-minute patented Boys sleepover?”
Ben didn’t hesitate before rapidly nodding and grabbing his phone from his nightstand. To be honest, what had happened still weighed heavily on his conscience. He didn’t know when those feelings of guilt and whatever else was wrapped up inside of him from the past several years would finally subside and leave him alone. His struggles were, unfortunately, far from over.
But, if he had nothing else besides his mom in this world, he had his friends, he had people who genuinely cared about him, regardless of who or what he was. He had people who would hold out a hand when he fell or would talk to him any time of day. Right now, his mind and heart were both focused solely on them, and he silently promised himself that he’d think more about the others, about his own self, more than anybody or anything else on the planet. That was his priority, not bullies or things that, in retrospect, meant nothing to him.
At the very least, he was no longer alone.