Hello reading people. So, originally I was working on this picture, but then my computer had a panic attack and shut down, destroying it even though I saved it at least once it's gone. Since I didn't have enough motivation to restart the whole picture and I needed to release my anger in some way, instead of a picture of Jack and Roger from Lord of the Flies you get Stebbins/Barkovitch friendship oneshot.
Freaks
He was an absolute freak.
There was just something wrong with that Stebbins kid. No one even knew what his first name was, he didn't talk so much. The only time anyone would even heard his voice at all was when teachers called on him in class or the occasional shout some of the rougher bullies managed to get out of him.
He always wore brightly colored clothes that didn't go together at all, and he always, always had books on him. Books as in more than one, and not ones for school either. They changed, probably as he read them and got new ones, except for Alice in Wonderland. He was never freaking seen without that thing.
Well, except for that one time those kids took it from him and tore all the pages out. Of course, even then he'd stayed and picked them up, taking the mangled thing with him as he left the school. He had a brand new copy the next day anyway.
All in all, Stebbins was a total freak. Even worse than Gary Barkovitch himself was. Not that he'd consider himself a freak; he just always got off on the wrong foot was all. He was normal enough if anyone would ever take the chance to actually get to know him.
Barkovitch quickly looked away from the quiet boy at his locker. He didn't know why he even bothered thinking about him. Maybe it was just because Stebbins was someone who got it almost as rough as he did himself.
Whatever though, Stebbins didn't matter. The short teen brushed him from his mind as he started out of the school. So far today, nothing too horrible had happened, so if he could just make it home keeping it like that, he could consider today a success.
Of course, that didn't happen though, because Gary Barkovitch was not a person exactly known for his luck.
"Hey! Barkovitch!" Someone yelled, and he hadn't needed to turn around to figure out just who it was. With gritted teeth he turned to face Rank. This asshole was always messing with him, but somehow it was Barkovitch who always came across as the bad guy.
"Fuck do you want?" he asked, hoping that this would go better than the last time, but highly doubting it.
The last time, Rank had to be taken away to the hospital because he ran into his switchblade. No one believed him when he said he hadn't meant to stab him. He'd just pulled it out to get him to back off, because Barkovitch had not been in the best mood that day and didn't feel like dealing with his shit. But then he'd come running at him and Barkovitch hadn't had the time to get out of the way. It was Rank's own fault, not that anyone would ever believe him.
Barkovitch had ended up suspended for a month after that, and he'd been lucky that the police hadn't actually gotten involved.
Thinking about it though, this was the first time he'd seen Rank since that incident too. He probably wanted revenge.
Shit.
"You think you can get away with what you did, you little shit?" Rank sneered, knocking Barkovitch roughly to the ground. Before the shorter teen could get back to his feet Rank had kicked him sharply in his side, knocking the wind out of him.
"You ran into it yourself! It wasn't my fault!" he yelled once he'd gotten the air back into his lungs. That only seemed to piss Rank off even more though, the older teen practically growling as he continued to kick at Barkovitch on the ground.
A bit desperately Barkovitch swung his leg out, actually catching Rank and causing him to fall to the concrete sidewalk. Not wasting a second Barkovitch scrambled to his feet, starting to run.
"Get the fuck back here!" Rank yelled, but the shorter teen didn't hesitate in the slightest, quickly rounding the corner, not looking back to know that he was being followed.
After running for nearly ten minutes Barkovitch finally stopped, panting and exhausted in the back of some alley with absolutely no idea where he was. At least he'd managed to lose that asshole. With clear irritation he spit a bit of blood out of his mouth before starting to look around to try to find the way to his house.
Before he'd been able to take two steps though, he heard someone chuckling quietly behind him. He instantly spun back around, expecting to see Rank coming to beat the ever loving crap out of him again.
Instead, that freak was watching him, a smirk on his face as he leaned against the wall, his arms full of books.
"The hell are you laughing at?" Barkovitch snapped. Stebbins simply rolled his eyes in response, pushing himself off of the alleyway wall and starting to walk away.
"Hey!" the shorter boy yelled, irritation flashing across his face when Stebbins didn't so much as flinch. Barkovitch quickly closed the small gap in between the two, yanking his arm to get him to turn back and look at him.
The blonde glared at him sharply, bending over afterwards in order to pick up the books that had tumbled to the ground.
"What are you, mute?" Barkovitch asked, not bothering to help him with the books any. They wouldn't have fallen if he'd just stopped when he called him, after all. Barkovitch just wanted directions on how to get out of here. He wouldn't have bothered with someone like Stebbins if he didn't have to.
"Yes," the skinny boy answered, not looking up at him as he did. Barkovitch stared in shock for a few seconds, not having expected that answer at all.
"Seriously?" the word slipped out. He didn't really care if he could speak or not, it was just surprising was all. Stebbins had stood back up now, the books carefully arranged in his arms again and he nodded. The look of seriousness that had been on his face quickly gave way to a condescending smirk however, and Barkovitch felt his face turning red as he realized his mistake.
"W-why you freak! What? Do you think you're funny?" he spat, trying what seemed to be in vain to intimidate the strange boy. That god damn smirk was still plastered on his face, as if specifically to tell Barkovitch that, yes, he did think he was very funny.
Barkovitch decided that he didn't like Stebbins one bit. Not only as he a quiet freak who was obsessive about his books, but he was a snarky, condescending one at that.
Once again Stebbins turned away from him without a word, and this time Barkovitch simply took to following him instead of trying to get him to stop. After maybe ten feet Stebbins did come to a halt though, turning back towards him.
"Why are you following me?" the blonde asked, surprising Barkovitch once again. What was with this kid and freaking catching him off guard? It was irritating, he didn't like unexpected things. That was all he seemed to be though, since no one knew anything about him. And that was because Stebbins never spoke to anyone, and yet here he'd just asked him a question.
Of course, that was because he probably wanted Barkovitch to just leave him alone.
"I don't know where I am," he said plainly. Stebbins just stared at him for a moment, before nodding and starting forwards again. Barkovitch frowned in frustration before jogging to catch up with him again.
"Hey! You could at least tell me the way back!" he said.
"I don't know where you live," Stebbins countered plainly.
Barkovitch wanted to hit him, to knock those stupid books out of his arms again for being so stuck up. From what he'd seen of the blonde before, he definitely didn't expect him to act like he was right about everything.
Even if he was right about not being able to give directions to a place he didn't know. He didn't have to be so smug about it.
"Just tell me how to get to the gas station on Becker Street," he managed to say between gritted teeth. Stebbins stopped walking; pointing up to the next corner as he quietly explained the directions. Some of the anger started fading slightly at having an idea where he was going and getting to leave Stebbins behind now.
Before he was able to quite get away from him however, Barkovitch felt something being pushed into his arms.
"What?" the short teen asked, flipping the book over in his hands, pausing only momentarily to allow his eyes to scan the title.
"Lord of the Flies, by William Golding," Stebbins said, as if that explained everything. Barkovitch glared at him, still completely confused.
"I can see that. What the hell do you want me to do with it?" he asked, a surge of irritation running through him when Stebbins looked at him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Read it. It's a good book. A bunch of boys are stranded on an island, and then a few of them die," the blonde told him simply.
"Why would I do that?" he asked back, trying to figure out if Stebbins was trying to pull another trick on him or something. The skinny teen simply shrugged though, not saying anything else as he started walking down the street again.
Frowning in confusion, Barkovitch quickly decided to chock all of this up as Stebbins being a fucking freak and leaving it at all. Stuffing the thin book under his arm, he quickly started the way he'd explained, and after maybe ten minutes ended up back at his house.
No one was home, as per usual, and he climbed the stairs up to his room, tossing his bookbag to the floor and collapsing onto his bed afterwards.
Barkovitch frowned, pulling the book Stebbins had given him in front of his face, scrutinizing it as if expecting the thing to explode if he opened it or something like that.
Just what the hell was he trying to get at? As much as he tried to think though, he couldn't figure out a way that this was to make fun of him. It was just a book. Stebbins was freaking obsessed with books, so he doubted he'd use one to play a trick on someone.
Still glaring at the thin thing, he opened it to the first page and started reading. He didn't have anything else to do anyway. And maybe if he read it he could figure out just why the hell that weirdo had given it to him in the first place.
On Monday he walked into the school building, carefully looking around each corner before turning to make sure he didn't run into Rank. Lord of the flies was under his arm, and he quickly made his way to the library.
He'd finished the book in little under two days. It actually hadn't been that bad, but he still had no idea why he'd given it to him. At the moment, he had no idea where Stebbins would be, since he hadn't seen him at his locker, but he figured that the library was probably the best guess.
Just as he thought, he was sitting at one of the tables when he peaked inside, Barkovitch quickly sliding the rest of the way through the entrance. Stebbins didn't seem to notice him until he put the book down in front of him, slowly looking up from whatever he was reading. From what the shorter boy was able to see, it looked like it was something about greyhound racing. Weird.
"You're like an older, creepy Simon," Barkovitch said, referencing one of the characters from the book. Once again a smirk made its way across Stebbins' face as he carefully picked up the book and put it back into his bookbag.
"Freak," Barkovitch muttered under his breath. The smug look on the blonde's face never left though, and Barkovitch got the feeling that he was probably so used to being called things like that it didn't even affect him anymore.
"No more so than you," he said simply, standing up and slinging his bookbag over his shoulder. Barkovitch stared at him in shock for a moment, not having expected an outright insult from the blonde. Of course, he always seemed to be surprising him.
"What did you-" he started to say, but before he could finish Stebbins' eyes had wandered towards the library door and he cut him off with a single word.
"Rank," he said quietly. Barkovitch's eyes widened, and he scrambled to hide between a few of the bookcases behind Stebbins. Peeking out between the spines of the books, he saw the older boy quickly scanning over the library before leaving again and sighed in relief. So the asshole was still looking for him, but at least he hadn't managed to find him yet.
When he came out from between the cases, Stebbins was still standing there, and Barkovitch avoided looking at him. He hadn't hid because he was scared of Rank or anything like that, like he probably thought. He just couldn't afford to get in a fight at school again. He'd probably end up expelled instead of just a suspension.
"Thanks," he grumbled, that god damn smirk making its way onto his face again. Instead of a reply though, he'd only gotten another book pressed into his arms. The Great Gatsby. What, did this guy only read classics?
Rolling his eyes, he decided to just take it, putting it into his bookbag. Stebbins was a freak, but Barkovitch did suppose he could do to read a bit more.
"Don't you have a class to get to Blondie?" he asked, Stebbins just chuckling softly and nodding.
"I thought it was freak," he said, this time Barkovitch to be the one to roll his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he started leaving the library.
"No one ever said you weren't a freak, Blondie," he mumbled, making sure to peak out the library door and make sure the coast was clear before leaving. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Stebbins walking towards his own class. He was wearing purple pants today.
Such a fucking weirdo. Although, not quite in the way Barkovitch had thought before actually speaking to him. And he would have to speak to him again once he gave him back this new book.
For some reason, he didn't mind the idea of that.
Blarg! I do not know if Barkovitch was in character or not! I sincerely hope he was, because I tried my best. But yes, Barkovitch and Stebbins, total BFFs man. Can't you just see it? Wasn't the bromance obvious?
Haha, seriously though, thanks for reading and as always hoped you enjoyed and please review.