A/N: One-shot; Post-School of Rock; Freddy and Katie are about collegians. A meeting of two old friends, now broken past simple repair.
Semi-rough draft. Criticism more than welcome. Review, m'ducks.
-Surreptitious-
Better This Way
Freddy slumped low on the park bench, watching passersby with hooded eyes. His joint he held loosely in the tapering fingers of one hand, and his coffee was clutched tightly in the other. He expelled some smoke from the drug, took a sip of the coffee, took a drag, took a sip…
He could sit here all day. And he did, many days.
His eyes fixed on a point near the horizon, close to the sun setting in a muted haze. As he did a lot when he was loaded, he thought back on his days at Horace Green, of Dewey and the passion for the music.
Freddy snorted softly. Passion. He'd practice drums, once in a while, to keep from getting too rusty, but the passion was gone. He'd attend classes, once in a while, to keep from flunking completely, but the passion was gone. He stayed alive, because once in a while life was worth living. But the passion? The passion for life, in Freddy's mind, wasn't even worth thinking about. It didn't exist anymore, as far as he was concerned.
He sipped at his coffee, and raised the joint to his lips once again.
"..because truancy will not be tolerated here, Ms. Brown, and one of life's greatest lessons is punctuality..."
Katie swallowed hard and frowned at her shoes. Her professor was long-winded. Chances were, this particular lecture would continue on for another twenty minutes or so.
"…mark of maturity, being on time and in attendance to required appointments…"
Katie stifled a sigh and reviewed the possibilities available to her. She could suffer through more of this until done, but then she would be required to respond – and she'd heard about three words throughout the entire thing. She wondered what the professor would do if she simply walked out…It became more appealing as the speech twined around and around in circles; it didn't seem like it was ending any time soon…
"..and if you continue in this disastrous path, I can guarantee you that your future will be…"
Katie curled her lip. Oh shut up already. What do you know? She thought angrily. Walking out seemed perfectly viable, in the face of her professor's oblivious nerve to "guarantee" anything about her future.
"Ms. Brown! I'm barely halfway through, and you-"
Katie nodded at the irate professor as she left the building. The professor stared at the empty chair, then the open doorway in bewildered shock.
Freddy shoved his frozen dinner into the microwave and poured himself some beer. Strange habit – he hated drinking the stuff out of the bottle. Always in a glass. Always.
When the microwave beeped, he ran a hand through his hair before taking it out. He burned his hands, it was so hot, but he didn't especially care. His cheap lighter had burned him more than a few times, not to mention the few deliberate experiments with burning himself scarring his arms. He gulped down sudden bile rising in his throat.
He wouldn't go back to that.
He picked at the dinner restlessly after that. The mashed potatoes were nasty, the meat was almost as bad as the stuff in a cafeteria, and the carrots were only half-cooked. After ten minutes of unsuccessfully forcing food down his throat, Freddy threw it all into the garbage disposal.
Pacing, he realized he was trembling. Not in the mood for anything harder than a cigarette, he rummaged through his cargo pockets until he found a pack of Lights. He mainly smoked Regulars – he couldn't quite remember why he had bought their milder cousin.
Licking his lips absently, he lit one up and strode aimlessly through his apartment. Freddy finally shrugged on his jacket and went outside. The door slammed harshly behind him.
Katie blew on her hands, trying, and failing, to get them warm again. Shivering under a streetlight, she waited for a cab. The traffic was sparse, and she'd been waiting for a good half hour. She was cold and angry and all she really wanted to do was go back to her flat and curl up and sleep.
Her car was in the shop, though, and now she couldn't even get decent public transportation. A taxi cruised past suddenly, and Katie was on her feet. She flung an arm up instantly – only to havethe carspeed past without even slowing.
She swore at it violently, cursing it fiercely as frustrated tear escaped her eye. She was swiping at it crossly when a voice spoke from behind her.
"Dear God, missed a taxi? Nice cursing for so trivial a matter."
Katie turned around, gritting her teeth. "Look. I've had a really bad day, and, yes, I curse, so take that into account before you speak to strangers. I don't think you-" She stopped abruptly. The man's face was half obscured by a scarf, but a cigarette dangled from long fingers, and blue eyes searched hers.
She frowned. "Freddy."
Freddy smiled, a grim sort of expression that didn't really express happiness at all. "Katie," he returned.
God, but she looked just about as lost as he felt.
He'd been wandering the back streets around the nearest college when she heard a voice calling down curses from the sky. Smirking sourly, he'd turned the corner.
Katie Brown stood swearing at a taxi in the middle of the sidewalk, her eyes soaking up the cold and reflecting only dead ice.
She turned around, answering him tensely when he'd complimented her choice words.
She did recognize him, after a bit, and they stood now, staring at each other.
He wondered again if she felt so close to breaking she could scream. He knew how it felt.
Well.
Freddy turned on his heel. "Come on." He tugged his scarf down, and placed his fag between his lips. His next words were spoken around it. "My place's 'bout a block 'way."
Katie followed after a moment. This was Freddy, after all.
Freddy looked at her across the kitchen table. When her eyes unconsciously dropped to the smoke curling around his face, he'd offered her a cigarette. She accepted, and through the smoky haze of many a fag, they caught up.
They avoided mentioning Dewey, or the broken School of Rock. Both knew better than to tease at disaster - opening new floodgates was never wise. They both knew this, and so tiptioed around certain subjects, dodging and ducking and weaving their conversation with care.
Katie spent the night in an oversized armchair. She left in the morning without a word. She bit her lip hard as the closed the door quietly. She wouldn't get attached. She couldn't, not now. Her upper arms ached from the tiny pin-pricks riddling them, and she wondered briefly if he knew what it felt like. She wouldn't be surprised if he did.
Freddy probably knew he couldn't save her, just as he couldn't save himself.
But just in case he had any heroic ideas…
Katie slipped through his ratty screen door before he woke up. She'd probably see him again; if he lived so close there was no denying the fact, simply to make an angsty ending. But they probably would only nod, give a small smile, and keep walking.
Frowning, Katie set her face into the wind and trudged the rest of the way to her flat in the biting cold. She was very much alone.
Upstairs, Freddy lay awake, and, though Katie was almost silent, Freddy heard her leave. His eyes narrowed as tears prickled behind the lids.
He couldn't save her, he reminded himself.
He couldn't even help himself out. It was better this way.
Better this way.
He grabbed a joint off his nightstand, and repeated the mantra until life fell into a drugged, blurry haze.
end