A Little Piece

By: Shadow-Seraph


You remember when Ma first brought you home. It was intimidating, as it should be. A new house, family, life; anyone would be scared shitless. Ma assured you that everything would be fine, but what did she know? This was like starting high school all over again; worrying about if people would accept you; if you would make a good impression; and the starting of high school, well it sucked.

Your first real test was being introduced to the other brothers. Angel and Jerry, they were all right; didn't give you a lot of hell for the way you dressed or acted, but Bobby…Bobby fucking terrified you. As soon as you met him he jumped on your back about the leather jacket you wore and the guitar case on your back.

He didn't intimidate you so much after you had known him for a few days. He still teased you relentlessly, but he protected you as well. If anyone so much as lay a finger on you or call you a name he was there to take care of it. You found it ironic at the time that the person that teased you the most, protected you from the people that teased you. Bobby was fucked up like that.

Weeks later he came up with the notion that you were queer. Which, in all honesty, wasn't an untrue assumption, but you denied it of course, admittance would be like throwing fuel into the fire. But rumours get around, and in this day and age no one really questions what they've been told, they just believe. So it wasn't all that surprising when people at school started questioning you about your sexuality. No, not surprising, but upsetting.

You came home one day with a particularly nasty black eye, courtesy of the bigoted soccer captain. You fought your tears, until in the privacy of your own room of course, when all your frustrations came out in mangled sobs and salty teardrops. It never occurred to you that the walls in the Mercer household were paper thin; not until the tentative knock at your door.

"Jacky?" Bobby.

"Jacky? You okay?"

Funny he picked then to be a concerned older brother. This was all his fault in the first place. If he hadn't started with the name calling; cock sucker, queer, faggot, then none of this would have happened. You choked back an angry sob and buried yourself in blankets and pillows. But your lack of response did not deter him, and seconds later he was letting himself through your door.

"I can see you Cracker Jack." You shuddered at the unwanted pet name.

"Go away." Your voice cracks halfway through and you had instantly scolded yourself for sounding so pitiful.

Bobby sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the pillow away, forcing you to push your bruised face into the mattress. He sighed and placed his hand gently in your brown locks.

"Come on Jacky, tell me what's up." His fingers played idly with the hair at the nape of your neck.

You refused to answer, instead pushing your face deeper into the mattress. You felt a weight lift from beside you and heard the click of the door shutting. Bobby must have left you. You sighed and rolled back over, opening your eyes to come face to face with Bobby.

"Where'd you get that shiner little brother?" He questioned as he pushed on it gently with his index finger.

Before you could stop yourself you were screaming at him.

"Go away Bobby! This is all your fault!" And you were choking on your sobs again, hiding your face back in the mattress.

Bobby stroked your back and you shivered; not used to this type of sincere intimacy. You whimpered it all out. Everything about the soccer captain, the rumour at school and how it must have all been his fault came rushing out in frenzied sobs. And he listened quietly as his fingers danced along your spine rhythmically.

"I'm an asshole. Forgive me?"

It was his way of apologizing; dodging what you really wanted to hear and for a minute you ignored him, fully content to refuse to forgive him. But he gathered you in his arms, nuzzling his face in the side of your neck and your resolve caved in. Bobby may have trouble apologizing with words, but his body movements did all the necessary talking for him.

You squeezed his form around you and mumbled quietly into his shoulder.

"I'm not queer."

He looked down at you, a flurry of emotions crossing his features; guilt, sadness, regret, fear. Emotions Bobby rarely showed. Emotions you never thought you'd see again.

Until now.

Now, as Bobby clings to your bloody form, crying out for help. The others are all hope and assurance, like everything is going to be just fine; like you've broken your finger and not been shot an undetermined amount of times.

But not Bobby.

No, Bobby's face is exactly as it was that day; guilty, sad, regretful, afraid. He buries his face into your neck and sobs, trying to convince himself that everything will be okay. But as you choke out your last agonizing 'Bobby!' he knows that it won't. He knows that nothing will be same again.

Then, as the blood spills from your mouth and your eyes start to roll back he makes you a promise. He leans in closely and whispers that he'll get that son of a bitch. That he'll get his revenge for what happened to you and Ma. And you know he will because Bobby wouldn't lie to you. And you…well, you'll be waiting with Ma until that happens.

A/N: So just a random one-shot I concocted to get back into writing. Completely unedited and done in about fifteen minutes. Let me know what you think and criticize your little hearts out so in the future I don't make the same mistakes. Also, I realize the brothers are probably OOC. So sue me. The end.