Summery: It was the summer that would forever change Eddie's life, for better or for worse, as he slowly comes to face the death of his mother and his own human emotions, when he can no longer wear his face like a mask.
Shatter
Chapter 1:
The room was too small. The evening breeze flitted in from the open back door, and the man in the black suit seemed extremely uncomfortable, standing straight-backed as he spoke in serious whispered tones to Mr. Valentine. The man was supposed to be impassive, but his brow was scrunched together in uncertainty and regret. He was shifting, from one foot to the other, and constantly brought his hand up to loosen his collar. He didn't want to be saying what he was saying.
Mr. Valentine himself appeared to have been crying. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his cheeks were splotched pink. His brown locks were messier than usual, and his mouth was kinked with newly formed wrinkles. He hadn't smiled in days, which was rare from the usually jovial man. He looked on the verge of tears that moment, and he didn't appear to be really listening to what the man in front of him was saying, rather just bobbing his head every now and then as though he were.
They paid no mind to the little boy sitting at the oak dining table, head laid down, a rubber mask pulled over his face. He pretended that they ignored him because he was using his power of invisibility. That he controlled the very will of their minds to see and hear him. The mask he wore was gray, faded from years of use. A long nose protruded from the middle, just below the shining yellow eyes. The mouth was twisted into a gnarled grin, and the chin jutted out, pointed. The two adults spoke in hushed whispers, solemn, speaking about things they obviously thought the small boy didn't understand. And he was just as happy pretending they were right and he had no idea what they were talking about. But he did understand. More than they could ever know.
"Her neck snapped immediately on impact," the man in the black suit was saying quietly, though the words were strained in his throat, and he flinched at how that statement made Mr. Valentine's face contort, "So she felt no pain. The death was quick.." Another bob of Mr. Valentine's head.
"Mighty King of the Netherworld," the boy said from the table in a deep throated voice, and both men paused, looking at him as though surprised he could speak, "Teach to me a new spell so that I may have the might of powerful magic to use against mine enemies."
"Not now, Edward," Mr. Valentine snapped, overcome with upset, his voice shaking, a horrible croak of despair, "Take that ridiculous mask off. I'm not in the mood for your games.."
Eddie lowered his head, lifting up the gray mask to reveal his small freckled face and staring blankly at the table as the two men resumed their conversation. He tuned out the rest of their words, and it was later in the evening when Mr. Valentine showed the man in the black suit to the door. He returned to take a seat with Eddie at the dining room table. They were silent, sitting across from one another, both staring at the tabletop.
"I'm sorry," Eddie finally spoke up, quiet, removing his mask from atop his head and setting it in the middle of the table.
"I know, Eddie," Mr. Valentine mumbled, his voice distant, and he looked up to his son, but didn't seem to see him. He took the mask into his hands, rubbing the soft face with his thumb, "It's just…I think it's time you stopped with this childish 'Prince of the Netherworld' crap. I know…I know that you think the mask makes you stronger…but you can be strong without it."
"Dad," Eddie moaned, tears springing to his eyes, "But I don't want…"
"Stop that," Mr. Valentine said sharply, balling the mask up in his fist, "Now, I won't have you crying! None of that. You have to be a man, now. You have to be strong, and grow up…you have to start acting more mature…"
"But mommy wouldn't…"
"Shut up," Mr. Valentine roared, ripping himself from the chair, and Eddie tensed, letting his head and shoulders sag, so his father couldn't see the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. His father had never yelled like that before, "Mommy's not here anymore! She's gone, and we're going to have to do without her." Mr. Valentine stormed across the kitchen, throwing up the lid of the trash can and throwing the mask into it, "You're going to have to do without her…without her and this nonsense."
Eddie startled, as the bright sun was suddenly covered by that of a pale face and deep blue eyes. The mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear what it was saying and nothing made sense. He blinked several times, his cheeks flushing, before pulling himself up into a sitting position and leaning forward to grasp his head in the palm of his hand and wince.
"- a place to nap that was not in the way of my research! Honestly…you…you bloody beach bums…think the entire…"
"Shut up," Eddie groaned, his voice a decibel above a whisper.
"Oliver, that's enough," a soft voice muttered, "Are you alright, Eddie? What are you doing laying here?"
Eddie shifted, looking up and glancing at the two intrusions. Oliver, the one hovering over Eddie, a clipboard clutched to his chest, and his lips pursed in annoyance. Sam stood farther back, hands folded behind his head, staring interestedly down at the lounging young man. They were both dressed in long pants, rolled up to accommodate wading in the shallow tide pools, and heavy t-shirts, not at all clothed for a day at the beach. Their cheeks and noses were each dabbed with white streaks of Sun Block, both being fair-skinned boys sun burning was a severe threat, especially in the now Summer heat.
Eddie himself was dressed in his swim trunks, but had yet to go in the ocean. He had found the small secluded area where the tide pools formed and opted to lying on one of the slicked surrounding rocks and dipping his feet in one of the pools. The water would rush up onto the shore and black stones, creeping up the length of his body. It had felt nice, like a thousand tiny fingers lightly brushing against his skin and ruffling his hair. He'd stared up into the sun, eyes drooping closed, the heat warming him entirely. At first his legs dangling in the pool had disturbed the aquatic life that called it home, but eventually they had become acclimated to his presence, and every once in awhile one of the living creatures would even brush up against him. He'd thought with a smirk, he'd become part of the earth, part of that little tide pool. He'd imagined he'd seeped into the rock, or that the rock had crawled over him, and he was now just another part of the small niche.
Now, he was jolted back to this unpleasant reminder, in the form of two nerds, that he was not, in fact, a part of that rock face, not a part of that tide pool, and not a part of the earth. He was still him, a lithe fourteen year old boy, with unkempt hair and an immense amount of freckles.
"Eddie…are you…" Sam began again, but Eddie quickly cut him off.
"I'm fine," he spat. His voice had become deep, and quite raspy. It was almost reminisce of his 'Prince of the Netherworld' voice when he was a child.
"Well, since you're fine, could you please move?" Oliver demanded, tapping his foot which caused a 'split-splat' sound from the rock he was standing on, "Your leg is in the way of a particularly astounding specimen of Cerianthus." Eddie raised an eyebrow, looking to Sam for an explanation and Oliver clicked his tongue in exasperation, "A Urticina piscivora." Eddie scrunched his nose.
"A sea anemone," Sam provided and Eddie rolled his eyes, looking to Oliver in irritancy.
"Why couldn't you just say that?" he demanded, lifting his feet from the water and causing the life forms to flee for safety. Oliver gave a grumbling gasp, tossing his hands in the air and turning away.
"You imbecile," he cried, reeling on Eddie in rage, "The most decently diverse habitat I've found all morning, and you go and…you…"
"Calm down, Oliver," Sam sighed, "You did ask him to move." Oliver's mouth hung open, moving like a hinge, though only a garbled sound came out, and his cheeks slowly colored with pink. Eddie smirked.
"You sure are passionate about your fish," he teased, leaning back, his hands pressed into the rock, knowing all too well the redhead's ambitious love of biology. He only wanted to see the fire light in the younger boy's eyes, and perhaps listen to him rant more.
"Passion…" Oliver stammered, "Something your cretinous mind can't comprehend." Eddie grimaced, letting the anger simmer, before a carefree grin spread across his face, shrugging.
"You're absolutely right," he sneered, through gritted teeth, "I am unworthy of your humble presence, almighty geek lord." He rolled his eyes, lifting himself up and brushing the sand from his backside. He looked between the other two boys.
Sam, at fourteen and the oldest of the three boys, was still clinging to his baby fat. He was built like his father, short, stout, and husky. His blonde hair was kept cropped and spiked with gel, and his black rimmed glasses were an interesting accent to his soft brown eyes. He spent long hours in the sun with his other friends, the Rocket siblings and Twister Rodriguez, but he seemed genetically incapable of tanning, only managing particularly painful sunburns that peeled like mad and didn't so much as leave even the tiniest hint of color. His athletics, though bad as he was at them, were somewhat paying off as he seemed to have a bit more muscle than fat on his body, but he would never really be "thin". He was easily a kind boy, with a brimming intelligence to match, and a strong sense of courage, though often times he was a bit soft spoken.
Oliver was the youngest of the three, still at thirteen, but easily the most intellectual. Which he never let anyone forget, and many at school had dubbed him the "arrogant prick". He was not much taller than Sam, though lithe and meek, he seemed smaller in a way. His features were sharp and careful, his face rounded and cherubic. His bright reddish orange hair was cropped short, the "bangs" gelled in the front. His skin was pure white, smooth, and his eyes were a brilliant shade of blue, large and childlike, shining with cheerful innocence. His largely round, silver-rimmed glasses accentuated his face and extremely pointed chin, and his cheeks easily blushed. He spoke with a sharp British accent, all at once warm and bright, and cold and distant, and his features were always moving, expressive and quick to change.
They both had the distinct markings of true homebodies, and without the usual sport extremists around, the Rockets and Twister, they seemed out of place on the beach.
"What are you two doing?" Eddie questioned casually, lazily running a hand through his mussed hair.
"We were going to study and catalogue the wildlife in these tide pools," Oliver began, clicking his clipboard forward to show Eddie, who groggily glanced at it, "But the first ideal habitation we find all day, and you have to disturb the ecosystem," Oliver sighed, hugging the clipboard back to his body and hobbling back up towards the Pier, "I suppose we should call it a day then, right, Sam?"
"Sure thing, Oliver. I should really check in with my mom, and then I'll have to catch up with the guys for hockey practice," Sam piped agreement, waddling after. The "guys", being the Rockets and Rodriguez boy. He paused, looking back to Eddie, "Want to come? Me and you can switch it up during practice…"
Eddie sighed, stretching and looking out past the horizon momentarily. He licked his lips, tasting the salt and heat in the air and smiled, before turning back to the blonde.
"Yeah, sure," he muttered, finding his shirt and shoes discarded on a nearby rock, scooping them up and climbing after the other two boys whilst slipping his sneakers on. He tugged his shirt over his head, nearly running into a small group of girls from their school in the motion. He murmured an apology, and they each blushed deeply, giggling and stammering different replies. Flustered, he stalked after Oliver and Sam as the girls flickered glances at his retreating form. He received amused looked from the two other boys and shrugged at them.
"What were you doing on the beach, anyways?" Oliver questioned, his eyes lit with curiosity. Eddie shrugged again and Sam glanced back to him, curious as well.
"Thinking," he finally replied.
They nodded, though the answer seemed a little far-fetched in consideration of whom it was coming from. There were only a few teenagers in Ocean Shores that would likely sit on the beach 'thinking', and Eddie was not one of them. They seemed to settle into a comfortable silence, and Eddie chose that moment to slink forward and slip an arm over Oliver's shoulders, who startled from the sudden contact.
"You really think I'm a beach bum?" Eddie cheekily questioned the shorter young man.
"W-what?" Oliver stammered, the close proximity obviously awkward for him. Eddie reveled in the way the redhead squirmed under his touch.
"You called me a…" he paused, before giving a horrible mock interpretation of the redhead's thick British accent, "Bloody beach bum…" he gave a look of mock hurt, "So you really think I'm a beach bum?"
"Lay off him, Eddie," Sam snickered from behind them, obviously enjoying his poor friend's discomfort as well. Eddie smirked, doing as he was told, but not before taking a chance to ruffle Oliver's hair. He strutted forward, turning back to the other two boys to hold his hands up defensively in front of him.
"You know, I'm really offended, that you think of me that way, Oliver," Eddie persisted teasingly, and Oliver shook his head, his face bright red as people were stopping to stare at the boys. Eddie was talking a might loudly and he seemed to be enjoying the attention the crowd was giving him, using it to his full advantage to mortify the younger boy, "After everything we've been through, and this is how you treat me? I thought I meant more to you then that! I thought you loved me!" Sam was struggling to keep his burps of laughter down, and the crowd was abuzz with whispers and chuckles. Oliver's eyes went wide.
"Oh, you're bloody amusing," he stammered sarcastically, enraged, before hastily pushing his way past Eddie through the crowd, his head lowered though it did nothing to hide the fact his entire face was bright red. Sam's laughter faltered, as the crowd began bustling again amidst their own snickers and Eddie looked triumphant.
"You didn't have to go that far," Sam told the other boy, who simply shrugged, smug grin fading, "I think you really hurt his feelings."
"So?" Eddie muttered reply, "I was just joking around. It's not like he ever cares if the things he says hurts anyone's feelings, and he never jokes around."
"I know he can be a bit obnoxious," Sam admitted with a sigh, "But he didn't deserve that. Embarrassing him in front of all those people…and you know he doesn't handle crowds very well."
"Oh, get off your high horse, Sam," Eddie sneered, stalking forward now, hands shoved in his pockets, frowning darkly, "In case you forgot, you were laughing too." Sam shook his head, jogging to catch up.
"I think you should apologize," he insisted, "He's really sensitive about those sorts of things…" Eddie rolled his eyes as they fell into step behind the still flustered redhead.
When they turned onto the cul-de-sac where Sam's house was located, the blonde raced up his walkway and disappeared into the house, leaving the other two boys behind in silence. Oliver stared out at the street, as he spotted the youngest Rocket, Otto, coming from the Rocket house followed by his best friend, Twister. They had their roller blades draped over their shoulders, the laces tied together, and held hockey sticks in their hands, unlatched helmets atop their heads. They were chattering rather animatedly, and both broke into laughter about something or the other. Eddie cleared his throat, and lowered his eyes to study the sidewalk. Someone had spat their gum out and it had hardened over, now black. He was all too aware of the boy standing awkwardly next to him, breathing softly, shifting uncomfortably, and it only made him regret more deciding to come.
"Sam and I are going to go to the aquarium next weekend," Oliver spoke up, his voice soft, quavering. He was trying to break the tension, but the terseness in his tone was a subtle way of reminding Eddie he hadn't forgiven him or anything, but was just simply trying to make conversation, "We're going to build a website on the wildlife of Ocean Shores."
"Oh," Eddie murmured, trying to sound interested, though he really wasn't. He failed, as Oliver's cheeks flared with a little color and eyes flashed with indignation.
"It's actually very exciting, but I don't see how I would have assumed you'd be intrigued by the prospect," he hissed, and Eddie winced, looking away down the street in the direction of his house, seriously considering leaving, "After all," Oliver went on, muttering under his breath, "You think staring mindlessly at clouds is good fun."
"You know…" Eddie began to roar, turning to shout down at the younger boy, when the door to Sam's house opened once more and the blonde rushed out with his roller blades, helmet, and other hockey gear. He smiled as he rejoined the two boys and they both averted their eyes, Eddie's arms now crossed over his chest and Oliver's cheeks bright red once more.
"What's going on, guys?" Sam questioned, looking between them in earnest concern. They both shook their heads, silent. He chose not to pursue it further, as he spotted Otto and Twister, and Reggie, who had joined her brother and was sitting on the curb strapping her blades on. "Hey guys," Sam called, racing towards the others, who turned and gave their greetings. Eddie and Oliver followed reluctantly behind.
"Where you been all day, Squid?" Twister demanded, coming to a halt in his warm-up laps around the court. Sam grimaced at the long-standing nickname that he couldn't seem to escape. The worst part was that he'd grown used to it and that it didn't really bother him anymore. He was beginning to react more to it than his actual name.
"Hanging out with Oliver," Sam answered, plopping onto the curb to lace up his own blades.
"How's it going, Oliver?" Otto called, slapping the puck into the unguarded net, skating forward to scoop it up and pass it to Reggie, who'd joined him on the street, "Hey, Eddie." Immediately, Rocket boy's eyes lit up with an obvious idea, and he grinned in his usual mischievous manner, "Hey, since you guys are here, let's split into teams! It'll be good practice for our upcoming game. Eddie, Sam, and Oliver versus…"
"Oh no," Oliver protested stubbornly, "I'm scorekeeper."
"Ah," Otto frowned, losing his momentum for a split second, before lighting up again, "That's cool. Sam'll be goalie, and Eddie and Twist can go against Reg and me."
"Uh…" Twister gaped, frowning, "Is that fair…?"
"Of course," Reggie grinned, punching her brother's fist, "Two versus two. There's extra gear in the garage, Eddie, I'll help you get some."
"Okay…" Eddie reluctantly agreed, though he was in concurrence with Twister, he wasn't quite certain the Rocket siblings on the same team was fair, "I guess." He followed the young woman up the driveway, and it wasn't long before he was back down on the street in old blades, pads, and a helmet.
AN: I changed their ages. I think in the series, Eddie was supposed to be the youngest, Sam in the middle, and Oliver the oldest. But for the sake of this story, I wanted Sam to be the oldest and Eddie older than Oliver, for personality reasons.
Please review. Thank you.