Gamzee Makara was, in some sense, an average boy when he was growing up. He loved playing outside, he got bruises from too much rough housing with his brother, and he loved cars and action figures. He was totally normal. It may be true that being outside was the only peace he ever got. It may be true that the rough housing with his brother had actually been from his father being too harsh. It also may be true that cars and action figures weren't enough to distract his mind from the constant arguing that his parents part-take in.
It may be true… it just might be…
His face was pressed up against the car window, expression bored as well as disgruntled. He was a hormonal teenage boy, going through puberty still at the age of seventeen, just barely eighteen. His brother, sitting right next to him, was a full year older than him, but he didn't really have the chance of moving out.
Lucky him, he still had the option.
"You boys should be happy," their mother scolded every now and then, sarcasm just oozing out of her tone. "You're going to The Happiest Place In The World! It's such a life changing experience!"
The happiest place in the world?
Life changing?
Yeah right.
Gamzee scoffed and soon grimaced, burying his face much further away into the window and his seat.
Damn this family vacation, damn it all to hell. He'd rather go back home and smoke a joint or two… anything to just drone out the constant chatter that comes from that woman's mouth.
"Hey!" His head snaps to attention when he hears his father's sharp tone, and he can see from the corner of his eye as his brother, as well, shows the utmost attention. Their father looks back, eyes empty as he orders, "You be grateful now, this is bonding time with the family, don't you go poutin' off like that or I ought to slap you silly."
Any other child would have shook that little warning off, maybe even give a giggle to it, but neither Gamzee nor his brother blinked or wavered in their attention. They took it seriously. "Yes, dad," Gamzee had answered for both himself and his brother, whom, gave a soft glance between the two males besides him in the car. After a dangerous gaze, their father turned back, and Kurloz took that as the sign to relax once again. Gamzee followed suit and shrunk into the seat, giving a hushed sigh of indignation.
.
.
Mother. Fucking. Disneyland.
He wanted to drink poison; he wanted to bash himself in the freaking skull, anything, anything to get out of this torturous theme park of shit!
"Stop it with that little pouty look, boy, and get into the spirit now," his father is quick to implement how his feelings should be, and Gamzee can only sigh faintly. Kurloz, thankfully, comes to his rescue as he casually points off to one direction, catching their mother's attention.
When she turns and sees a gift shop, she squeals immaturely and clasps her hands together. God damn shopaholic, she can go broke and die dirt poor for all he cared, and then she can suffer so pitifully without her money.
She runs off to the gift shop, already peeping through the useless knick knacks and the two young boys are left with their father. With an annoyed sigh, the man rubs his forehead roughly before eyeing the two rather antsy boys in front of him. He has to bite his lip with concentration, and he seems to be thinking for just a split second. "Ungh… fine… go about and do what you want just… meet back at the Main Street before seven, you got that?"
Both boys give vigorous nods before running off.
.
.
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Kurloz and Gamzee had split up, as brothers tend to do. The elder went to Mickey's Toontown, finding it to be the furthest away from where their parents were. Gamzee, although mostly wanting to get away from parental authority, went off to Adventureland.
It was nearly a literal hell with this shirt he was wearing. Cottony black, sleeves ending down to the wrists, and it was mid-summer. Fucking hell, he hated this whole ordeal! He wished he hadn't of worn this damn article, but, he knew it was for the best.
His tousled hair was covering half of his face, dirty for no real reason. He always felt really dirty, and he never really knew why he felt that way. It had started a long time ago, he had no recollection of why. It was just always so- prevalent…
A few odd people in costumes had approached him, repeating scripted lines and trying to stay in character. Gamzee could barely ignore them, instead, giving most an estranged glare before shoving past them. As the time seemed to wear on, he was becoming more and more aggravated. The place was so crowded, people were brushing against him, he was being touched by random strangers and it was disgusting.
"Stop it- stop touching me, you sick fucks…" he found his voice evilly muttering under his breath, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists in his pockets. He was feeling dirty again, so vile, disgusting, and his arms were itching like crazy. "Just stop it- just stop it…"
His knees buckled suddenly, and he collapsed onto all fours, scratching his palms on the ground and yelling rather loudly in shock. Throat tight, face flushed, and trembling, Gamzee nearly fainted, his vision going black yet consciousness still pulsing. He was gasping, trying to breathe, he just had to breathe… in and out… in and out… in and…
"Lost boy!" His breath stalls and he tries to swallow, but nothing happens. Such a simple phrase, he had thought, was yelled at him. Suddenly, he is being pulled up to his feet, and Gamzee hacks and struggles in the grip of some unknown being. "My dear boy, are you okay? You look so tired!" His watering eyes open, and that's when he faintly sees the outline of- someone, a young man? He can't tell…
"We'll get you help! I know a certain Tink who can help you!"
.
.
.
The next thing Gamzee knows is that he can feel a cold, wet substance dripping down his forehead. He opens his eyes and instantly regrets it as the sun blinds him. In response to such a nuisance, he groans and rubs his forehead, already slowly sitting up.
"Oh, you're finally up!" A sweet voice twitters, and Gamzee looks around with confusion, staring around with a narrow gaze. What he finds certainly surprises him.
Peter Pan.
With big brown eyes, a tuft of brown locks poking out of his hat, and the cutest dimples, the young lad stares at him with a wide grin and having settled a hand on his tangled hair. "You were sure looking mighty sick, are you doing okay?"
Gamzee stares at the other man, trying to withheld a flushed expression as he slowly sits up to look at the young lad in green fully. When he does sit up, he realizes the two of them are on a bench, still in the Adventureland area, and people are giving the two of them odd looks. The poor Makara can't help the uncomfortable shiver that runs down his spine, and he is feeling dirty again. "Yeah. I'm- just fine, my brother…"
The Peter Pan peers at him with a furrowed brow of concern. His hand shifts, and it instead lands to softly stroke down Gamzee's arm. For a moment, Gamzee sighs with contentment, like a cat would being petted, but something is different. His eyes go wide, and he can't help his yanking of his arm away, holding it tightly to his chest so no one can see the scars.
"Just fine…" Peter Pan echoes his earlier words, his gaze casting off-ward when he notices the discomfort in Gamzee's demeanor. "You shouldn't be just fine. You should be happy! You're not happy?"
"Not a whole lot…" the tousled haired gentleman murmurs his response rather quickly, although in one of the quietest tones possible.
And it is silent for a long time. The Peter Pan character seems to be thinking, or so far as Gamzee can observe. After some time, the brunette has to coo softly, "I'm sorry." Gamzee has to look up and stare at the green boy, confused and slightly concerned with what the other might be referring to. The Peter looks back as he explains further, "Those scars- I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you." And then the kid jumps up and finds himself kneeled before Gamzee's feet. "I could've taken you to Neverland where no marks would find your arms! I still can…" Peter Pan's voice fades off, and he stares forlornly into Gamzee's eyes. The look is so intoxicating; it almost feels as though that silly Disney character is staring right into his soul.
Soft hands find calloused ones, and Gamzee slightly flinches, yet lets the other being trace the scars running all along his forearms. "Marks like these make a person grow up too fast…"
Before either of them know it, tears are crawling down Gamzee's face, and he can't help the pitiful sobs that tumble from his lips. Yet Peter is there, hands wiping away those dreadful tears and cradling his face so sweetly. Words are whispered so tenderly in his ear, "I'll protect you from the pirates that have hurt you. I'll be there…"
"Yes…" Gamzee didn't realize he had spoken, but when he does, he doesn't stop himself from continuing on. "Please take me. Take me to Neverland. I don't want to be here anymore- I want to be a Lost Boy…"
"Gamzee…" The Makara lifts his head, curious, the man knew his name? Peter looks back at him with a soft yet serious gaze. "Do you want to come with me to Neverland… forever?"
The tears seem to stall, and Gamzee understands. It takes him not more than three seconds to say, "Yes."
.
.
.
Tavros softly strokes Gamzee's scars, tracing over them with careful fingers, not wanting any harm to be present. Gamzee barely flinches now, instead trying to ignore the gentle touches as much as possible, it's always easier that way.
"They don't hurt any more…" Tavros tilts his head at Gamzee, and he smiles sweetly when he sees the content expression gazing back.
"I told you. The scars stop in Neverland…"