geena: (Default)
Geena ([personal profile] geena) wrote in [community profile] rainbowfic2012-01-09 09:41 pm

Heart Gold 19

Author: [personal profile] geena
Color: Heart Gold 19. It is best to love wisely, no doubt; but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all. - William Thackeray
Word Count: 361
Rating: PG-13 (for language and violence)
Story: _____; the title of this story is Broken Spell.
Summary: Despite how careful he's been, his father finds out.
Notes: This takes place a year or so before the events of Yes. Trigger warning for homophobia (including one slur) and child abuse.

***

When his father catches him with Keith, time stops. His father only stares, glancing between the two boys with neither anger nor pain in his eyes.

Then the spell breaks and he is yanked to his feet by his hair, harshly shoved into the nearby wall.

“Get out,” his father snarls, and Keith does, scurrying from the room with his shirt in hand, unwilling to meet his gaze. His father doesn’t wait until they’re alone to bellow, “What d’ya think you were doing?”

He’s slammed against wall once again, teeth clattering as his head bounces against the drywall. “I-”

“What the fuck were you doing?” His father’s voice surrounds them, suffocates them both. “You a fucking faggot, that it? You fucking--”

It isn’t the physical pain that makes him cry out when his father hits him, but the sensation of something dark and hollow lodging itself in his chest. Afterward, left alone sniveling in his bedroom, he does his best to clean up. He winces at the sight of himself in the large mirror, wondering if it’s worth staying home from school the next day before deciding against it.

She calls three hours later, long after his father’s passed out, their secret ring drowning the swirling thoughts in his head.

“He knows,” he says right away, ignoring her greeting.

Silence. “He knows?”

“Keith was over-- my father-- he just left, didn’t say a word, he probably hates--”

“Are you okay?” she interrupts, panic lining her voice.

He exhales slowly. “Yes. No. I will be.”

“Where is he?”

“Gone. Asleep. I don’t know, he just ran out of steam eventually and--”

She clicks her tongue and he can imagine the way her nails must be anxiously tapping against the receiver. “Come over. You should be gone before he wakes up.”

“Now?”

“They’re alseep, don’t worry. You need to come over.”

Something akin to relief floods his veins with a speed that leaves him dizzy. “O-okay.”

“We’ll fix this,” she promises. “We’ll figure something out. I’ll fix this.”

He hangs up without a word, wiping his eyes dry.

***