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All he really wanted was to go home. To tune out the world, and soak into the silence of his bedroom. It was an odd thing to dream about, considering who he was, yet he almost preferred the solitude. Of course, he wanted to be around others, he never wanted to be totally isolated, but simply wished to hold a few minutes for himself. He wanted to go home for this, yet denied against it.
Irwin had been sitting on the curbside, the one that Junior always passed to and from school. At a moment's glance, his heart throbbed and fluttered-memories of what happened between the two boys last year flooded his mind. Truly, anything from the year made Junior sick to his stomach, but that ridiculous dance was the worst of it. It wasn't something Junior wished to live through again, even to better his mistakes from the first time. Neither of them had talked to each other since, and with Junior avoiding Mandy at all costs.
He could have just kept walking, there wasn't a reason to intervene, or to even bring up a past memory. Yet, Junior knew something was wrong. The distant gaze on a pleasant day, sitting around far closer to the school than to the comforts of home; it wasn't right. Especially for Irwin.
He gave small approach.
Irwin regarded him with an irked disturbance, but it wasn't one that gave much of an interest. It took Junior a few side-steps and an avoiding eye before he could finally give an utterance. "Hey." The tension couldn't even be broken with a wailing hammer.
"Yo," Was all was said, before the boy turned his attention back to whatever he was fancying, cloaked in a blanket of visions no one else seemed to notice. Junior took that chance, because there wasn't ever a guarantee a greeting like that could happen again.
He slumped his bag to the concrete and sat with him, trailing his gaze into what Junior thought to be a similar direction. His neck ripped itself into a strain, while his mouth went drier than a dead cactus during a black blizzard. He never knew what to do in these scenarios, and neither of his parents were particular experts on it either. Junior gave subtle looks that dissolved as quickly as they appeared-what was he thinking? What made him think he had the ability to do something like this, nonetheless with someone he had shed bad blood with.
"What's up?" Junior didn't anticipate Irwin even continuing the conversation further than it began. "I was going to ask you the same." The boy heaved a breath, one of big enough intensity to have created a whipping sough. He held a weed he had pulled prior to Junior's entrance. "Just bored."
"Seems like more than boredom." The thought willed itself, a motivation Junior didn't think to let slip into words. Irwin smashed the weed stem between his fingers; Junior watched with an impassive concern. His legs danced to run, yet his mind remained a blank for what to do. He had been a fool for-
"I'm just tired of him ditching me all the time!" It took him a minute to remember to breathe before the realization had finally hit. "…ditching."
"Yeah. He's always out there doing the stuff he does with Grim and Mandy. I'm used to Mandy, but Billy? We're bros, yo!" Junior almost felt ashamed for having thought Irwin was conditioning him to be the issue, but neither did it make the topic of Billy less awkward. "I mean, we still hang out sometimes, but it never lasts very long." Irwin watched the stem plaster itself against the road, still rubbing its slick remains between his ireful fingers.
Junior didn't know the best thing to truly say, because it was merely the way Billy was. He himself never spoke with his cousin much, even during school hours. It hadn't entirely been Billy's fault either-Junior's mother gave up on caring, a long time ago, in trying to still be present in her brother's life. In trying to be "seen," so to speak. It hadn't been that Harold was apathetic, but rather ignorant to the needs of those around him; Billy was a fruit fallen not far from that tree. In a sense, Junior supposed Irwin was still coming to terms with this fact of the household.
"So…. you're bored because Billy isn't around." Irwin didn't give acknowledgment to the thought, huffing in a daze as the sun began to bid goodnight. Junior grew hesitant at the time. "What do you usually do when Billy isn't around?" Irwin merely shrugged.
"Not much really, it just gets kinda lonely." Junior knew that pain, yet nowhere near the extremes his father may have gone through. "I hate that feeling." Junior didn't feel the need to say much more, the fact stood well enough to support its own foundation. "We used to hang out a lot more before Grim came around, but ever since then it's like he completely forgets me, yo." Irwin stepped on what had been left of a dead stalk, a plant that once infested a lavished green meadow now turned into a distant memory. He made sure to smear the rest of it with his shoe, for extra good measure.
"What about you?"
Junior croaked for words as Irwin looked his way, directly into and through him. He hadn't expected any sort of question, especially after such a venting. "…. what do you mean, me?"
"I mean aren't you two friends too? Like, do you ever feel that way with Billy sometimes?" Junior strained to stifle a laugh, or even a stupid grin. "We weren't ever really…friends." He often made the hard attempt of never putting too much thought into such a lost cause. Despite the hope his parents held in really befriending Billy, it was never the case. Billy himself merely held no interest in it, (nor the attention span). Junior often overheard his peers spending unbearable amounts of time with their cousins, as if ripping them apart would be ripping an arm off. It was an odd reality to envision.
"Really?" Irwin's eyes snapped into focus, completely enraptured by such a topic. "I've seen you with him a lot. For the holidays, anyway." Junior wavered his gaze, believing the latter to be obvious. "Well, I mean we're family. Isn't that what families do?" Junior had the awful habit of leeching a sarcastic charm in conversation, even in his most sincere questions. It was never his intention, but many seemed to mistake being oblivious to being snarky, he supposed.
Whatever repertoire the two children had built had immediately been set ablaze; Irwin's countenance became a solid glacier with a gaze that threatened to murder. "You're family!?"
"...I thought you knew that." Junior grabbed his wrists, as his neck shrunk in height. Irwin shifted his face back to the dead weed on the pavement, suddenly finding pleasure in its demise. "Why would I know that, he never tells me anything!"
"Irwin, this was literally a thing since the first season."
"Don't question my intelligence, man!" Irwin heaved a grief, before returning his hideous glare to Junior's broken one. "What do you even want, anyway? Why are you bugging me?" Junior felt his tongue choke him—nothing he wanted to say was able to escape him. The sun had been rapidly setting, as the shadows continued to engulf the entire street into darkness. "...nothing."
"Liar."
He didn't know why he cared up to this point, but the kind of emphasis Irwin had placed on that accusation ruptured a defensive instinct in the pits of Junior. For those fleeting moments, his mouth found its moisture in words, ready to aim and fire on target. His eyes snaked a venomous stare. "I'm not lying."
Irwin confronted him with a half laugh. "You have to be if you're blood to Billy." Junior could hardly follow what he had been saying, attempting to leach onto any line of logic that hadn't been there. He had an odd sense he had turned into a sort of punching bag for Irwin's own grievances. He attempted to divert the conversation into a better spotlight, however trivial it may have seemed in hindsight.
"When has Billy ever lied to you?" The child stood in an abrupting stance, waving his arms with a voice that could shake a skyscraper. "When hasn't he!? Which makes you no better!"
"When has Billy lied to you?" Junior didn't move from his spot, but neither did he change his demeanor. He held a dangerously still face, eyeing every social cue Irwin could conjure up. Irwin could only stare in stupid dumbfoundment at the suggestion of an already answered question. Finally, he led out another tense breath, smiling despite the escalation of the argument. "What do you know."
"More, actually." Irwin's contender had finally gotten to his feet, but his insolent gaze never broke from tangent. "Because it sounds to me like Billy isn't actually the problem." The street had been close to experiencing the evening's overshadow, as the street lights began to flicker on as per schedule. It had gotten far too dark to continue the conversation, but Junior wasn't about to leave Irwin with the victory of leaving it on a hang-note. "You shouldn't be questioning why he left, because the answer is you."
Junior had spoken more than he needed to–fear still grappled and choked his insides, but the adrenaline was enough to force his legs to begin walking away from the train wreck that had taken place that day.
Irwin was left with nothing but the aftermath of the accident.
This was ridiculous, the assignment was ridiculous, the whole predicament Junior had placed himself in once again had been utter and unnecessary nonsense. He felt his head tumbling in circles, burying itself into a deeper grave with every page he went through in a book a class had so kindly gifted him. There wasn't an answer to be found, and it was driving Junior up a wall.
He hated multiplication tables, but he hated himself more.
A flash of a hot pain from the depths of him forced his arms into action. Against his own seeming wishes, Junior uttered a short cry as he heaved his stupid math book with its stupid multiplication at the door.
Or, it was supposed to be the door. Instead, it was nailed to Nergal's face just as he had opened it. It was a pretty big darn book, awful and painful too, but only based on the cry of agony Nergal gave shortly after.
"Dad!" Junior had felt that short lived pain finally take its exit train, and was left with nothing but the adrenaline of its consequences. However, Nergal stretched a toothy grin with eyes that could light up a volcano. "Nice shot, bucko!"
Junior blinked; even if the world was ending, his father would always find something good in the fact that the sun was blowing up. Nergal had remained mystified, groaning as he rubbed a temple, but still with that sick and giddy smile. "For that one, I should put you through the Little League!" The panic that had been eating Junior's mind began to slowly subside, along with his father's humor. Nergal's features dropped to a somber tone, as if he had just been hit by a giant textbook. "You seem tense, son."
"It's nothing."
"It's something if it's worth punting this over." Nergal snatched the book from the floor, straining a wrist to hold it upright between black claws. The boy began to sense a familiar sense of dread begin to take hold; not that Mandy is ever wrong about anything, but it always sent him a twisted grief to have remembered her words at that trashed valentine dance.
That she had counted on Junior's bad fatherly advice to ruin that day for everyone. Her sense of bitter truth had haunted him ever since. Even when he had gotten home that night, Junior had carried a resentful and arctic shoulder against Nergal. His father had quickly taken notice of it, which only made hurting him—originated from the ghost of words and cast away glances—all the more burdensome. Junior had begun to fake "normality" when his mother took whiff of the building sorrow like a veteran cop dog sniffing out crack, and began to probe for answers upon her husband's behalf. However, his performance was more or less out of fear of interrogation than the case of forgiving and forgetting the entire incident. He supposed ignoring Irwin all this time had been another reason of its own; he simply didn't wish to hurt his father again by looking back at old scars. A naive wish, when you got to thinking about it.
"I'm just tired, I probably needed a break anyway." From the drama, that much had been true. However, Nergal's hard wired gaze never broke, and instead of backing out of the room as Junior had hoped he would, he closed the door. "You know I don't like it when you lie to me." His voice had been still, still but aching. Junior had remembered that tone fairly well, as it was the same one Nergal had carried when Junior had, inexplicably, begun to shut him out. It was happening all over again, but Junior wasn't too sure what to do about it.
Nergal began his way forward, and if he had a tail, it surely would have been between his legs. "What's this about, really?" The boy had to steer himself from just grabbing the sheets and throwing them to keep the eldritch horror from stepping another foot closer. He stared at the floor; it was going to come out sooner or later, so why not spit into the face of it now? Junior had confirmed his decision when the mattress distributed its weight; Nergal sat upon it with unrequited patience. "Remember Irwin?"
"He's Billy's friend, right?"
"Yeah…" Junior felt a rock plop into his chest. "Well, no I guess. The way he talked about it." The rest had been nothing new; Junior had explained the problem as honestly and bluntly as Mandy announcing Billy's stupidity. Speaking of Mandy…
"It sounds to me as if you're fighting with a loser. A sore one, at that." Nergal's countenance turned heavy with ice, with an air that spoke of a hard reality—it reminded Junior a bit of Mandy, in a somewhat messed up sort of way. He loved his father, but he didn't particularly like Mandy (hadn't really disliked her either, but certainly wasn't fond of the girl), so it was an odd sight for Junior to see. He wasn't too surprised by the response though; Nergal had made it clear before what he had thought of Irwin when Junior had first told him of his valentine dilemma. In his father's world, there were losers and winners. If you were neither, you were the worst, because that meant you were just a plain nobody. Being a loser however, was a close second to that failure.
And Nergal didn't particularly like losers.
"Well, I guess I'm sort of losing to one too." Junior found the floor again, and for some reason, found it more consoling than his paternal counseling.
"Nonesense!" There came that signature grin again, along with sun-bursting eyes that coated a luminescent green. "You stood your ground, and pointed him out for what he was." The inflection in his words dropped, much like his humanity. "A crybaby." Junior had wanted to believe Nergal, he truly did—it was often a young boy's dream to live up to his father's view of reality—but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Not this time. Not after what it had cost Junior prior; a friend, or a near-friend if there ever was such a thing. But most importantly, he didn't believe that Irwin truly was a loser, because he simply had nothing to lose.
"He's always out there doing the stuff he does with Grim and Mandy. I'm used to Mandy, but Billy?"
Then again, maybe Nergal Senior did have a point. Irwin had, in bleak irony, lost Billy to the Grim Reaper in the most unforeseeable twist possible. It still broke Junior in two to think about, but he continued to carry a weary thought above his father's words. Listen to Mandy, why don't you, and don't take the advice. Because taking Nergal's advice would lead to Junior becoming the very thing his father dreaded; a loser. A loser who had fallen for a sadistic girl's scheme to ruin a day of love and friendship for everyone. A loser who lost a near-friend as soon as he spotted it in headlights. A loser who couldn't even face his own old man.
"Junior." His hearing pierced at the sound of his name, and came to the slow realization that Nergal had drowned out his talking; he looked down at him with a ruthless sort of stare, seemingly accusatory. "What's wrong."
Junior felt his heart begin to patter, as the beats it made began to vibrate through his neck. "I already said it." Nergal didn't stir, not even to blink. "You're still not telling me something, son. What's the matter?" Here it came, the interrogation he thought he narrowly avoided before, coming back to bite him where it hurt the worst. "Nothing! Like I said, I'm just tired." Nergal may have been naive in most things social worldly, but he wasn't when it came to child bearing; he read Junior's face like a children's book. His gaze stalked the boy like a cat eager and ready to lunge for the mouse that had gotten away from a previous hunt. "You don't need to lie to me, just come out with it."
"No."
"Why not!?" It was a rare sight for Junior to have ever seen his father angry, (perhaps annoyed, but never quite angry) yet this moment seemed to become one of those scarce ones. Nergal seemed darker, colder, maniacal even, as his once ardent eyes became spears of rage and imprisoned loneliness. Despite his younger years, Junior knew that the rage hadn't been meant precisely for him, but rather something of a much larger scale. A deep seated pain that was often hidden from the prying eyes of others. He knew it because he knew Nergal, and he knew it because he carried that heavy seed too.
He also knew Irwin. The dorky kid that had stamped a piece of weed into the pavement as he shouted out to a ghostly Billy "why, yo!?" Irwin wasn't angry with Junior, he was angry with Billy. But the pain he carried for Billy had instead been the baggage Junior was forced to sustain, stemmed from the simple case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Junior was to blame for the pain because Billy couldn't be there for the blame to be pinned on.
The hot coals began to cool their embers, as that depressing spirit lost its grip on Nergal; he looked at his son pleadingly with a tongue that spoke of harsh regret. "I want you to talk to me, Junior. I'm tired of the hiding." It had dawned on Junior that Nergal knew that he had been faking his contentment, the inner peace that draped over Mandy's words like a thin blanket. He knew it for the haggard aging his father's visage suddenly endured.
Tired of the hiding. Yeah, Junior was too. But it was branched further from mere familial conflict.
So Junior spilled his beans, and when he cried, his father held him.
Fear was a funny thing; it could start out so small, smaller than worrying if one had closed a bedroom door. But quickly that worry could grow, sapping and sucking the livelihood out of you until it grew fat of about a thousand worries, yet all it took was one to start. Sometimes the lies would begin, a final touch of seasoning to the stew of panic, usually in the form of self-sabotage. But much like seasoning, they weren't necessary. Fear was a funny thing, and boy did Junior feel it now.
It started out with the simple worry of having to face Irwin at school the next day, and it did happen, which only made the shivering in Junior's neck and trembling of his chest that much worse. He stood at his locker, and just a few doors down, so had Irwin. If you really want this, if you really need to, then go for it, slugger had been his father's consoling words of wisdom. The question was if Junior was going to listen to that bit of potential ignorance disguised in wisdom. Did he trust his father enough, and himself, to follow through with it?
And what was he supposed to say? Sorry that my cousin's such a jerk, that Billy couldn't tell the difference between a fork or a spoon, much like how he couldn't differentiate Grim's servitude between true friendship? Who was he to shove words in Billy's mouth, anyhow? What was even the point of-
Irwin looked his way; he stared. Then he walked away.
No scowl, no snotty witticisms, not even a silent scoff at acknowledging Junior's presence. He looked, and then he walked. And that was it. Yet somehow, it had hurt ten times worse than if the mummy-vampire combo of a child had called him a loser. Vexation began to bubble behind Junior's eyes. He yelped before his mind could stop it. "Wait!" The boy halted, much to Junior's dismay, and snipped a small glance. "You talking to me?"
"No, a ghost. Yes, I wanna talk to you!" For such a bulbous nerd, Irwin held a stance as if he were a Sperg roaming a neighborhood block, threatening to give wedgies every which way. It was frankly stupid, a lazy front, but that had been the least of Junior's concerns. He shuffled up beside him, but Irwin took a step or two backward, raising an infuriating brow.
All high and mighty now, huh? Too good to talk to me. Being dubbed "the vengeful nerd" by Junior's peers wasn't the most flattering title, but it certainly seemed the most honest depiction, and certainly in this moment. He wanted nothing but to whack Irwin upside the head, to get rid of his sudden smug demeanor. But he couldn't and wouldn't; if you really wanted to mold this sore loser into a winning friend, you had to reach for the stars, slugger. "I don't want to do this anymore."
Irwin gave no response, not out of spite, but out of respect for Junior to finish that thought. Junior took advantage. "This whole stupid thing. First it was Mandy, now it's Billy. I'm getting tired of it; it's always my fault." He felt a large upset through his entire core, but masked it under his still, pale, face. "You pin Mandy on me because you didn't have enough guts to go up to her in the first place." Irwin became befuddled, unsure of the memory Junior was attempting to reference; Junior seemed lost in his own world. "Then you went ahead to add Billy too, and this time I didn't even do anything! If I breathed, you'd still find some reason for how I stole your air."
"Yeah, I'm sorry."
"Well I've had it! I-" Junior froze, as Irwin's words hummed in his ears. "What?" Now it was Irwin's turn to mask the upset; he wavered between his two feet, looking down the hall to his class. "Yeah, I was unfair. Kinda stupid really." He met Junior's eyes again, and gleamed a small smile. "I'd thought you were mad at me, yo." Well, he was, but that wasn't really the point. "I don't know that whole Mandy thing you went on about, but yeah, I was kinda jerkish to you." He gave pause, then solemnly added "I guess the jerk part you were on point about." Junior's last words began to echo through his memories: You shouldn't be questioning why he left, because the answer is you. He flinched at those words that had spilled from no one's lips but his.
"I was just mad with Billy; I got over it though." If Junior's teeth weren't shaped like hooked talons, he would have bit his tongue. "I was talking about the dance." Irwin held silent for a moment, creasing his head in peculiar thought. "Dance ... .what-" His eyes popped. "Oooohhh, the valentine's day dance! You're still hung up about that?" Fear had left, and had let the door hit its face on the way out. In its absence, Junior wasn't sure what to feel. "...aren't you?"
"No! I-" The bell rang, along with the panic in Irwin's voice. "AW SNAP, YO!" He had then proceeded to "book it," skidding down the hall to his homeroom class on his stubby little legs. "Talk to you later, Junior!" The boy felt his heart quench and his ears vibrate; he had uttered the magic words. The near-friend had been lost, as he had expected, but taking on its old mantle was a friend.
Simply, and sincerely, a friend.
All he really wanted was to go home, but as soon as he saw Irwin on that curb again, Junior's typical school-induced dreariness dissipated. No further conversation after that morning had been caught between the two of them, whether out of the busyness of the day or just simple disinterest to blow away the dust that had gathered on their words. But there they were again, on the same curbside they had fought not long before on. Junior couldn't make heads or tails if it had been fate or just plain coincidence.
It all seemed like water under the bridge anyhow, and it wasn't until now did Junior realize just how petty the whole fiasco was—-likely something Mandy took into account, but hardly gave care for. If anything, it probably got Irwin out of her way, and it made sure to remind Junior of his place in the world; below her. And as far as Billy's involvement went, he likely forgot his old friend and younger cousin even existed.
Unsurprisingly, Junior had let the pains of the top-world get the very best of him—something his father always warned him of—but the worst of it seemed over. He knew he held a good head on his shoulders, he just couldn't let grievances taint that. That thought alone also reminded Junior that Nergal held elements of truth in his parental guidance; it may have not always worked, or was even moral by any standard, but it wasn't a thing to idly be tossed away either. Mandy had gotten into his head was all, which wasn't much of a shock considering who she was anyway. He remembered the flash of pain that had swept his father's face—that maniacal rage and deadly isolation personified into one person—clawing at Junior's attention; Nergal had faced a dark world, and had only wished to keep Junior astray from it. That wasn't something to lose respect over, but rather an acknowledgement of compassion. Nergal had only been offering counsel in the best ways he knew how, even if those ways may have been flawed. Those flaws may have cost Junior the valentine dance, and a potentially friendly connection to Irwin, but the heart of those flaws were in the right place.
Irwin glanced up from the sidewalk, previously eyeing the weed he had stamped down just the day prior; it looked obsolete now, a life left behind for a new seedling to eventually take its place. He smiled, "I was waiting on you, bro!"
There was a small moment of awakening, of realization that Mandy could have never tarnished. Before Junior was a friend, and things such as these were the things that friends were for.