This will follow Farkle's journey in an abusive home from episode one to the time where his friends find out (they will find out, but I'm not going to tell you when)

Farkle really does have Aspergers. It doesn't play a big part until the episode Girl Meets Farkle, but you will see symptoms of it throughout the reading.

EPISODE: SEASON 1, EPISODE 1- GIRL MEETS WORLD

Disclaimer: I own nothing

WARNINGS: CHILD ABUSE-PHYSICAL AND VERBAL- MENTIONS OF CHILD NEGLECT, BISEXUAL CHARACTER, BEGINNINGS OF BOYXBOY

Farkle loved his parents. No question about it.

But that didn't mean he always liked them, nor did that mean his parents-his mother, in particular- always loved him.

The abuse had been going on for as long as he could remember, and the neglect probably started long before that.

It started with his mother shaking him as a baby; it was a miracle he hadn't experienced brain damage or shaken baby syndrome. Then, it became a few smacks as a toddler; when he was six or seven, it became beating, and around age ten, his mother spiraled completely out of control. At least before then she could stop herself before she caused any real damage; after age ten, Farkle didn't have the luxury of knowing his mother had enough self control to keep him out of the hospital.

Farkle didn't know if his dad knew about all of this, but he had his own problems to worry about.

To start off with, Farkle's mother was hurting him, too. Not with the same intensity as she hurt Farkle, but the smacks and occassionally punches or plates thrown was still abuse.

Second of all, Stewart had wanted to leave Jennifer for years, but he knew that she would receive custody of Farkle. She was manipulative and an actress when it came to making Stewart the bad guy; this wasn't even mentioning that courts usually give custody to the mother unless there's evidence that suggests a different placement should be made.

But when Farkle was twelve, any handle he had on the situation dissolved.

A paper smacked on the kitchen table in front of Farkle, making him jump.

His father wasn't home (working late for the fourth time that week- it was Thursday), and his mother had arrived home early from her daily shopping spree.

"What's this?" She demanded.

"It's my history test," Farkle replied, nervously.

"What's at the top?" She asked, tapping her finger on the red letter at the top of the paper.

"My grade," Farkle responded.

"And what is your grade?" She asked in a sugary sweet voice.

"On the test? A B. In the cl-"

She snapped her fingers under his nose, making Farkle leap a few inches off his chair.

"A B! I thought you were supposed to be a genius," she snapped.

"I-I am, but I had a bad test. I wasn't concentrating and-"

She rolled her eyes. "Stop blubbering. Your father is going to be so disappointed."

"What? No, he is-"

His mother nodded, sadly. "He will be. We both know it. You're supposed to be his star student, his perfect genius, and you bring home a B. You won't be his perfect child anymore. He'll finally see that he has no reason to love you, just like I did the day you were born."

After spitting that final statement, she stormed into the living room and leaving Farkle at the table with a B sitting in front of him.

He'll be so disappointed...

His mother was right. She was his mother. She wouldn't lie to him...

That's what Farkle told himself anyway.

Farkle stood and raced after his mother.

"Mother, please don't tell Father!" He begged her. "You're right. He'll be so disappointed-"

"No begging," his mother said as she picked up the phone. "I have to call Stacie. Leave me alone."

"But Mom-"

The back of her hand connected with his cheek. Her knuckles hit his eye, and he felt it begin to swell.

"Didn't we talk about the mom thing?" She sneered.

"Yes, Mother," Farkle said, staring at his feet.

"Tell you what," she said, placing the phone down and turning to face Farkle entirely. "I won't tell your father about the grade if you don't tell him about this," she proposed, touching her hand to his stinging eye.

He nodded. "Thank you, Mother."

"Now leave me to myself for a while."

Farkle nodded and grabbed his test before heading down the hall.

Farkle sat at his desk and opened his textbook to study so that he would never get a B again. He didn't need another swollen eye; it would be hard enough to lie his way out of this one.

His phone rang, and Farkle picked it up as he began reading his assignment for English.

"Farkle Minkus speaking."

A familiar laugh sounded.

"We're your best friends, Farkle. I think we're past the formal stage."

Farkle chuckled. "Hey, Maya. How are you?"

"Once again, too formal. Just say what's up."

"What's up is the sky. I never understood why people use that statement."

"Anyway," a new voice spoke into the phone. "Maya's hanging out at my house. You want to come?"

"No thanks," he replied, knowing he'd have to find a way to hide his eye and not wanting to deal with it right now.

"You sure?" Riley asked. "You usually say yes."

"I'm sick," Farkle lied.

"Aww," Riley said. "Are you going to be in school tomorrow?"

Farkle laughed. "It's only a cold. Come on, Riley, do you know me?"

"I do," she replied. "See you tomorrow and feel better."

"I will. Thanks."

Farkle hung up and sighed as he turned back to his textbook.

Farkle opened his history book to the correct page as the bell rang, and seconds later, Riley and Maya walked through the door.

"Maya, you need to do the homework," Riley was saying. "This teacher is insane, a total nut job. I think there's something seriously wrong with him."

"Hello, honey," Mr. Matthews said as Riley approached her seat in the front row.

"Hi, Daddy," she replied.

"You're late to your father's class," he pointed out.

"You wrote her a note," Maya said, handing Mr. Matthews a small slip of paper.

"I did?" He asked as he unfolded it before nodding with raised eyebrows. "Riley's late. Deal with it... hey, you got my signature down pretty good this time."

"It wasn't that hard, " Maya replied with a smile. "You write like a girl."

Mr. Matthews frowned as the girls took their seats.

"Anyway, I will return to stuffing knowledge into your heads," he began. "The Civil war!"

Yes, Farkle thought. He loved learning about the civil war... well, actually he just loved history in general.

"The civil bore!" Maya yelled.

"Thank you, Future Mini Mart employee of the month," Mr. Matthews exclaimed.

"Would I be making more than you?" Maya asked.

Yes, you'd be making a dollar and forty-five cents more an hour, Farkle calculated, trying to avoid rubbing his eye, lest he risk wiping off the concealer and revealing his black eye.

Mr. Matthews blinked. "The civil war," he announced, changing the subject. "Anybody?"

"A war we fought against ourselves, " Riley answered.

"You actually studied it?" Her father said in disbelief.

"No, I'm living it!" Riley muttered, dramatically, as she placed her head in her arms on her desk, which made her father frown.

"Are we here to learn or not, people?" Farkle demanded, wanting to return to familiar territory. This life lessons stuff was not his area of expertise (yet, but he didn't know that then).

"What, Farkle?" Mr. Matthews said.

"I've been in love with Riley since the first grade," Farkle gushed, "but I'm also equally in love with Maya. The question is who will become Mrs. Farkle Minkus?"

Humor is a good way to hide the pain. If he put a smile on his face, no one heard the screams in his head or the cracking of his heart.

"You don't want this," Maya replied with some of her famous spunk.

"Bring it on," Farkle responded, making her frown.

Did he do something wrong? Farkle had never been good with the social aspect of life. Now, textbooks and school... that was where he was most comfortable.

"I always thought he'd end up with Back of the Class Brena," Riley said as Maya turned back around.

They turned to face a black haired girl with glasses waving at them from the back of the class.

Farkle was kind of insulted they thought he'd end up with a geek just because he was one.

"Uggh," he muttered.

"The real mystery of life is how you can love two women the same who cannot be any more different," Mr. Matthews spoke up.

"We're not that different," Riley disagreed. Farkle almost laughed.

"May I overstep my bounds, sir?" Farkle called, raising his hand.

Farkle would never do that at home. His father would either ignore him or say go read a book (Stewart loved Farkle, but his head was always elsewhere. Farkle cherished the times his father took the time to come down from wherever his head was to come through for him), and his mother would either snap at him or smack him seven ways to Sunday if his father wasn't home.

But in this classroom... Farkle felt safe. This wasn't home; this wasn't World War III, like it was at home. He could be himself here without fear, and Farkle prayed that he would never lose that.

"You always do," Mr. Matthews said before switching with Farkle. He sat in Farkle's chair while Farkle strode confidently to the front and flipped the name plate on the desk over to reveal his name inscribed in the metal.

"Riley," Farkle said, dramatically, leaning over her desk, "is the sun and lights up my whole day."

He approached Maya's desk.

"Maya is the night, dark and mysterious, and the night has always been a mystery to me because I go to bed at seven thirty," Farkle explained (he went to bed early so that he would be asleep by the time his father got home and the inevitable fight occurred).

"How can I love these two women?" He asked. "How can I not? Thank you! I am FARKLE!" He shouted, bowing to the class before returning to his seat.

"We were trying to figure out who we were as a people," Mr. Matthews continued, bringing them back to the civil war as he flipped the name plate back to his own name. "Who am I? History shows that bad things happen when you don't know who you are."

The door opened, and a handsome blonde boy stepped inside.

"Who are you? I don't know who you are," Mr. Matthews said.

"Subway boy," Riley hissed to Maya.

"Um, Lucas Friar," he replied, handing Mr. Matthews a note, "from Austin, Texas."

"New student, Mr. Friar?" Mr. Matthews asked as he read the note.

"Yes, sir," Lucas replied.

"Great. You're just in time for today's assignment. Take a seat."

Lucas took a seat beside Farkle, and Farkle snapped his head away to avoid staring at him.

He wouldn't focus on Lucas's handsome face or his charming smile; those were bad thoughts, his mother often told him. He chose instead to focus on Riley's beautiful eyes and awkward smile as she stared at Lucas. Mr. Matthews grabbed her head and turned her around while Farkle returned his gaze to the teacher.

"Open your books to page forty-eight," Mr. Matthews ordered, and the students did so. "Now, turn to page one."

The students obeyed, puzzled.

"Now, I want you to read from page one to forty-eight."

The class groaned while Farkle focused on the reading to avoid staring at Lucas.

"Boo-hoo on you!" Mr. Matthews mocked. "Here's your assignment for tonight. I want you to write me a three page essay on something you believe in so strongly, you would fight for it."

"That," Maya replied, receiving several strange looks. "I'd fight for no homework. I come here everyday; why can't you teach me everything I need to know while I'm at school?"

She stood up.

"No homework, more freedom. No homework, more freedom," she chanted. "Who's with me?"

"No homework, more freedom! No homework, more freedom!" The class joined.

Maya murmured something to Riley while Lucas and Farkle stared around the room in bewilderment.

Riley stood up.

"Whatcha doing?" Her father asked.

"Making a choice about who I want to be," she replied.

"I know you, Riley. You know exactly who you are," her father stressed.

"Who am I, Dad?" She asked.

"You're just like me," Mr. Matthews said.

"Who am I, Dad?" Seven year old Farkle had asked his father on one of the rare times he was home.

"You're just like me, Farkle."

But he wasn't. And honestly? That scared Farkle. His identity was not familiar territory. It was like wandering off the path in a dangerous, endless forest. It always seemed safer to stay on the path.

"Would you do this?" Riley asked before throwing her fist in the air. "No homework, more freedom!"

"Farkle, are you with us?" Maya called as she left the room, followed by Riley.

Confusion rolled inside Farkle. Leaving could mean his education suffering and his parents' wrath, but not leaving could mean losing his friends. For Farkle, it was black or white. There was no gray area. Risk his mother's anger or risk losing his best friends.

The world went black.

Farkle tumbled out of his seat, unconscious, and Lucas stared down at the boy.

"Should we get the nurse?" The blonde asked the teacher.

Mr. Matthews shook his head. "Oh, no, he's fine. This happens everyday."

Lucas nodded before getting on the floor to rouse Farkle.

"What?" Farkle muttered as he came to.

"You okay?" Lucas asked as he helped him stand.

"Yep," Farkle murmured as the dots vanished from his vision. "Thanks."

Lucas smiled. "You're welcome."

The bell rang, and Lucas left the room.

Farkle stared after him until Mr. Matthews had to come tap him on the shoulder.

Farkle shook his head and grabbed his books, trying to deny the truth.

Farkle Minkus- son of a workaholic father and a homophobic mother- had fallen head over heels for another boy.

"Would it kill you to be home a little more?" His mother shouted.

Farkle rolled over in his bed and pulled his blanket tight around him, trying to burrow himself under the covers, as though he could use them as protection.

"I'm trying to put food on the table!"

"Well, while you're at the office, I'm stuck wrangling the brat on my own!"

"He's not a brat, and don't tell me that Farkle ever bothers you. He barely talks!"

"When you're around! When you're not, he talks back and treats me like dirt."

His father sighed, but he didn't reply.

Farkle pushed down tears. Did his father really believe that? How long would it take before he saw Farkle as a burden, too?

The door opened, and Farkle went still, not daring to breathe.

The mattress sagged under his father's weight, and his father's thin fingers brushed through his hair.

His father sighed and left without another word.

Farkle was grateful for the darkness of his room. Otherwise, his father surely would've seen his black eye.

Farkle practically collapsed into the chair between Riley and Maya at their lunch table.

"Ladies," he smirked.

"Farkle," They muttered, flatly. He didn't notice.

"Interesting dilemma in the lunch line today," he informed them. "Chicken pot pie or sloppy joe? Or sloppy Joe or chicken pot pie?" He said, gesturing to his tray, which held both entrees.

"Is that all you had to say?" Maya asked.

"Yep," Farkle chirped. "Same time tomorrow."

Best friends, he thought as he walked away. Yeah, right.

He sat alone in the corner and ate his food while Lucas sat beside Riley and Maya.

The new kid was more accepted than he was.

His phone buzzed, and he picked it up.

His dad.

Hey, Farkle, I'm working late again. Try to be nice to your mother. She's under a lot of stress.

Farkle sighed, and he tried to remind himself that his father didn't know about the abuse. He didn't know that Farkle had heard the fight.

That still didn't put him in a better mood.

Farkle took a bite of his angel food cake as he strolled over to the other side of the cafeteria.

"You got two deserts," Maya pointed out as Farkle stopped between her and Riley.

"Angel's food cake," Riley said.

"And devil's food cake," Maya added. "Let me guess who's who."

"Hey, Farkle's just hungry," he snapped (more accurately, starving. His mother hadn't let him eat last night because he'd defended his father during one of her rants on him and his workaholic ways). "Not everything is about you."

Farkle walked away, anger still fueling him. How he wished he could say that to his mother.

But he never would. Not only would he get bruises, but he'd been raised to honor and respect his parents and authority in general...

But did that rule still apply when punishment became abuse?

"I'm glad you're back," Riley hissed as Lucas sat behind her.

"Me, too," Lucas whispered.

Why are they whispering? Farkle wondered.

Mr. Matthews stumbled over his daughter's desk to stand beside them.

"Apparently you have a more impaired sense of direction than I anticipated," Mr. Matthews muttered before pointing his fingers at his eyes and then at Lucas in the universal sign of I'm watching you.

"You are a really good looking guy," Mr. Matthews grumbled.

That, we can agree on, Farkle thought before stopping himself. He couldn't think like that. If his mother ever found out...

Mr. Matthews walked back to the front.

"Now, we are going to find out who in here believes in something so strongly that they'd fight for it," he announded. "Maya, present your homework."

"Can't do that, sir," she replied.

"Why not?"

"I didn't do the homework, sir."

"Why not?"

"That's what I'm fighting against, sir," she responded.

"This could go on for a while," Farkle muttered before snapping on a mask to cover his eyes and pretending to snore. "Farkle, Farkle, Farkle..."

There was some meaningless gabbering before someone snapped the mask against his face, and he blinked as he slipped it off.

"You're gonna wanna get up for this, Farkle," Maya said.

"Is it our honeymoon?" He asked.

"No, you missed that. It's time to hand in our essays," she said.

"Oh, I'll go first. Farkle always goes first!" He exclaimed before going to grab his diorama from the back of the room.

Farkle reappeared with a diorama almost bigger than he was with real sparklers.

"In the civil war, the two sides eventually made peace. I believe that peace is worth fighting for," he said, even though what he really wanted to say was:

My parents fight all the time, and there is almost never a peaceful moment in our house. If I could, I would fight for the peace, but fighting against my parents could make it worse.

Of course, he would never say that because it would mean betraying his parents, and he wasn't willing to do that, no matter how much his mother hurt him or how often his father worked late.

Maya grabbed one of the sparklers.

"Hey, that's a pivotal part of my diorama!" He said before Maya grabbed the second. "There goes Virginia..."

Except... that one didn't represent Virginia, at least not over all. The two sparklers Maya had grabbed represented his mother and father.

Somehow the metaphor made the war raging being the closed doors of his home more real.

Maya stood on a chair and pressed the sparkler against the essays in her hand, which Mr. Matthews scrambled over to grab.

"No homework, more FREEDOM!" She yelled, raising the sparkler above her head and setting off the sprinkles, which immediately began to make it rain indoors.

Farkle began to panic as he slipped into a flashback.

*FLASHBACK*

"Momma!" He laughed. "I made you a drawing."

Four year old Farkle ran up to his mother with his art project in his hand. His mother ahouldered away, the phone pressed against her ear.

"Yes, Joanna," she was saying. "What day?"

"Momma!" Farkle begged. "Don't you like it?"

"Shh," his mother hissed before returning to a phone call.

"MOMMA!" Farkle screamed, a temper tantrum seizing him from the lack of attention.

His mother growled, angrily, before grabbing his shoulder, throwing open the back door, and thrusting him outside. Into the pouring, freezing rain.

She slammed the door and turned away.

"Momma! Momma, I'm sorry!" Farkle cried, shivering in his short sleeved shirt. "Momma, please!"

She ignored him.

"Momma..."

*FLASHBACK*

Before Farkle knew it, he was wrestling to stay on Mr. Matthews's shoulders, seeking the closest person that could qualify as an actual parental figure. Mr. Matthews wouldn't leave him out in the rain like his mother did. On the contrary, he would protect him from it.

Sometimes Farkle wished Mr. Matthews was his parent, and he was ashamed of himself for thinking that.

"Farkle, get off!" Mr. Matthews yelled.

"Never!" Farkle yelled as panic seized every nerve. He wouldn't be left out in the cold. Not again. He refused to be.

Mr. Matthews walked out of the classroom with Farkle still on his shoulders.

"Down, Farkle," he ordered.

Safe from the rain, Farkle hopped to the ground and stood beside his teacher.

"Riley, go," Mr. Matthews instructed as her and Maya stood in front of them.

"I'm standing by my girl," Riley said.

"You missed your chance to stand by your girl," he said, sternly. "Take Farkle for a walk."

Defeated, Riley sighed and walked away with Farkle.

"What happened to your eye?" She asked.

Farkle's eyes widened as he realized that the sprinklers had rinsed off the concealer. Everyone had been so distracted, no one had even noticed.

"Oh, um, I fell into an end table," he lied.

Riley nodded, too distracted by her situation with Maya to pick up on the obvious lie.

And Farkle was thankful for that. If she had continued to ask questions, it would bring up a lot of questions that Farkle did not want to answer. Not now, not ever.

But he'd have to someday. Not someday soon, but someday, his friends would ask those very questions, and Farkle would have to answer them.

How was the first chapter? Did I do a good job of introducing the beginnings of Farkle/Lucas? I'm not good with romance-writing or living it- so I hope I did a good job on that.

Thanks for reading. Hit the review button.