Twelve

The First Time Gary Self-Medicated

Gary's mother was lying limp on the bed. There were pill bottles on her bedside table, and his father was gone, so the boy was daring enough to creep into his parents' bedroom, staring at the yellow bottles, threatening, something that usually resulted in a beating if he even looked at them, but his father wasn't there, and his fingers were sticky. Before the brunette knew it, he had a full bottle of Valume and was curled up in the back of his sister's closet, breathing heavily and staring wide-eyed at his prize.
He was on his own pills. His father forced them down his throat when he was bad, but these were different. These were the ones his mother took to pretend his screaming wasn't real, the ones that made her glassy-eyed and content through her bruises, the ones that resulted in a drowsy half-smile and a comatose state.
He struggled with the child-lock on the bottle, hands shaking, just as the door downstairs slammed open. It was late at night, so his father must have been home from drinking, after work, staggering up the stairs. His sister was gone, though he was calling her name, the girl sent by a mother that still loved her to a far-away boarding school before the monster that called her daughter became bored with Gary, his chew toy.
"Gary! You little shit! Get out here!" The man shouted, and before he could actually go searching for him, the twelve-year-old popped two pills into his mouth, hiding the bottle in one of his sister's shoes before shuffling into the hallway.
His father was looming like a shadow, enraged expression turning to a chipper one when he spotted Gary, an alcohol-heavy hand on his shoulder.
"There you are..." He said, in a silky voice that made Gary uncomfortable.
"You have a good day at school?" It was Summer, and had been for a couple of weeks, but Gary nodded fervently regardless.
"Good, good." The male was being led towards the stairs, and his feet were suddenly heavy, dragging, trying to keep from letting his father take him to the kitchen or the downstairs bathroom. The bedroom and living room were easier to deal with.
"Why are you scared? I just wanna play catch." The man behind him said, Gary shaking all over, trying his best to break out from in front of his father, but the world was suddenly in the wrong direction, a heavy pressure on his back, stairs quickly approaching.
There wasn't any pain. Just when Gary reached the bottom, the painkillers crashed through his system, numbed the gashes and bruises and what he was sure was a broken wrist. He was stiff still, so his father had the butler drive him to the hospital. This time, he had actually fallen down the stairs.

The Day Gary got His Scar

Gary was on the living room floor, a football game on the television. His father was in his usual chair, clad in his Sunday best because they had just gotten home from church. He had a beer in his hand, his fifth since getting home, and Gary knew that it was only a matter of time until the man noticed he existed.
"Do you think that cheerleader is pretty?" Gary's father suddenly asked, and the boy looked up from his action figures with a confused expression. His eyes traveled to the screen, and he looked the scantily-clad female over, the little person on the box bouncing around merrily.
"Not really." He answered honestly. There was no right answer.
"Why not? You a fag?" The man asked in a bored tone, and Gary looked at him. He was high on his mother's Valume because it made the pain go away, had been almost constantly since the discovery of the bottle.
"What's a fag?" Gary asked, and his father cracked into laughter.
"Your friend. The skinny one... Petey, you call him. That's a fag. If you spend too much time with them, you become a fag, too." He explained, Gary's expression one of confusion.
"When you like boys." He elaborated, and Gary pursed his lips.
"Like? As friends?" Gary asked, sounding braver than he usually did, bandaged hand brought to his chest protectively.
"No. You sucked his dick?" The man asked, and Gary looked disgusted.
"You mean his-"
"You have, haven't you? Little faggot." And his now-empty beer bottle was broken on the nearby table, the thing shattering, glistening. Gary fell onto his back and scampered away, away from his approaching father, the neck of the bottle with a sharp end, as far as he could until the wall refused his escape.
"Say the cheerleader is pretty. You want to fuck her. Say it!" He roared, aggression incarnate, and Gary started to cry, hot tears streaming down his face and staining his nice church shirt.
The bottle was hot when it slashed across Gary's face, just above his eye, the boy crying out even though the drugs numbed it considerably.
The butler told the doctors that he had done it for attention, and they added a new pill to his already-long list of medications.

The Time Pete's Gameboy was Stolen

Pete's father had invited Gary to get ice cream with them. The taller male lit up at the suggestion, and though he didn't say anything, the man knew that he was thrilled by the prospect. It was a hot summer day, Pete spotting Gary at the beach, wearing nothing but his swim clothes and a bandage over his eye, telling his father about him, one of the other outcasts in his class. Gary never spoke, so he was labeled as a freak.

They had ice cream in the nearby parlor, Gary pointing at the mint chocolate chip and bouncing up and down a few times. They sat next to a window that looked over the water, Pete telling Gary about his new Gameboy while the darker-haired boy smiled over his frozen treat, just what he wanted on such a warm day.
After a while of the one-sided conversation, Pete's father told them that he needed to go to work, and Pete suggested that they finish their ice cream cones out on the beach. Gary was more than happy to follow behind him, the boy's father leaving for his car as Pete dropped onto a bench, Gary sitting gingerly next to him. The shorter of the two grabbed his Gameboy and it burst to life, Gary still working on his ice cream.
"It's really great! Like a videogame console that you can take with you! We went to my grandmother's a while back, and-" A boy passed them, and the game was torn from Pete's hands, both of their eyes traveling up to the offender.
"Thanks, fag." The stranger said, burly and probably a few years older than the two. Gary's mouth fell open, and Pete looked close to tears as the stranger started walking away.
Gary looked to Pete, fully expecting him to stand up and try to wrestle the toy out of the older boy's grasp, but nothing happened, Pete sitting on the bench with a hung head and hands folded in his lap.
Gary stood suddenly, stomping towards the bigger child and forcing him to turn around before he swung, the impact of a fist on the stranger's jaw ringing out. The male fell backwards, and Gary carefully pried the toy from his grasp as his enemy cupped his face and started crying. In the mannerism of his father, Gary spat in his victim's face, and he scrambled away, probably back home. Gary returned the Gameboy to Pete, other hand in the pocket of his swim trunks.
"Th-thanks!" Pete said brightly, taking his toy back and flicking it on again.
"I like you." Gary said, his voice low and worn from disuse. Pete tensed and furrowed his eyebrows.
"I'll destroy anything that tries to hurt you." And he was gone.

Gary's First Sleepover

Gary tapped on Pete's window, startling the jumpy boy awake. Pete glanced at his clock, groaning when he saw that it was two in the morning. He rolled over, thinking that it was just the overgrown hedge outside his room blown by the wind. There was another tap, though, so he rolled back over, eyes widening when he saw that it was Gary, not a hedge, that was asking for entrance, the dark-haired male shirtless and shaking.

Immediately, Pete was out of bed, prying the window open and ushering Gary inside. He didn't say anything, but he didn't really have to, bloody lash marks along his back, feet leaving red stains on the carpet. Pete wanted to cry for him, but he instead went for his bathroom, grabbing out the first aid kit he had there, just in case, and returning to find Gary sitting on his bed, obviously trying to stifle his tears.

"What happened?" Pete asked, getting nothing but a shaken head from the other brunette. He went to dressing Gary's wounds, and Gary sat there, stoic.

"Who did this to you? Was it Russell? He's mean." Pete tried, Gary's pained, torn expression melting into apathy.

"Was it Johnny? He likes to push people around, too." Pete applied ointment to one of the long, bleeding marks, none of his bands-aids big enough to cover it. He haphazardly taped gauze to Gary's back, not particularly skilled.

"I'm planning on taking the CPR course next year. That way I can actually fix you up." The smaller of the two chuckled out, patting Gary's shoulder to signal that he was done.

"Wouldn't that be fun? Playing doct- I-I mean… You know what I mean…" Pete looked away, clearly flushed, clearing his throat and going to his closet.

"Here." He handed Gary a baggy t-shirt that he used for pajamas, the other brunette pulling it over his head then starting for the floor, Pete furrowing his eyebrows at the action.

"Do you want to stay the night?" Gary nodded, curled up on his side, halfway tucked under the bed.

"I'll go get the blow-up mattress, hold on." Pete left, returning moments later with the bed and a pump. He took a while to set it up, Gary ushered out of the way so that Pete could unfold and plug the hand pump in, huffing as he tried to fill it up.

Gary shoved him out of the way, moving the handles much more quickly than Pete had, the mattress filling up within the span of about ten minutes. He flopped face-first onto it when he was done, Pete climbing back into bed.

"I'm only allowed to have sleepovers on break." Pete said with a yawn, tossing Gary a pillow and one of the extra blankets he had folded at the foot of the bed. There was no response.

"So… Don't come sneaking in here on a school night, okay? My mom will be mad." Gary's eyes widened at the words, giving a knowing smile. Pete grinned in response.

"Good night, Gary." Pete said a bit more faintly, and just like that, he fell right to sleep.

After the taller male was sure Pete had gone to sleep, he carefully left the bed he was in, climbing in next to Pete and crying until it hurt too much to stay awake.