Hey everyone, this is a short ficlet I wrote in the span of one night centering around Ronaldo Fryman. This guy needs more love in the fandom!

A lot of this story is based on theories and discussions by my good friend Sal (kithandqin or thelonefryman on tumblr), who has a REALLY amazing grasp and understanding of Ronaldo's character, and really interesting insights I didn't see until he brought them to light. Go check him out and give him some love!

While this story is pretty tame, it does allude to child abuse pretty heavily, and there's a bit of mild language, but that's about it!

I really hope you enjoy this!

Having learned over the years to grow thick skin, and become big and brave in the face of adversity, Ronaldo found it funny how it only took a few words to make him feel small again.

"You've gotten so big!"

Just hearing those words from that voice was enough to bring back flashes of memories of being told to smile for the camera often. Photos that filled up the family photo album to be seen for years to come while collecting dust.

What was even funnier was that, after a while, he sort of forgot why he was told to smile so much during that time.

"H-hi mom."

But like muscle memory, he never really forgot how to fake it.

For once, he was glad there was no longer a strange presence in the lighthouse; it meant he was no longer being watched (as far as he knew), and he had full surveillance of his surroundings, so he could protect himself from danger. He could busy himself with his work without the worry of anyone or anything coming to bother him, and enough food to survive a good three months (he'd been storing a lot of snacks).

He'd lasted up here longer than four straight days before, several times, he could do it again. He'd still probably smell bad, but at least he was safe.

Earlier that afternoon, his stomach had twisted so violently when he had overheard her talking with a smooth, charismatic voice to his father, attempting to persuade him to let her stay there while she attended some sort of business conference in the area. He nearly tore his hair when she had said "Maybe I can even spend some time with the boys."

Ronaldo felt only the slightest relief when his father said that last part would not be a good idea, and told her he'd try to find her a hotel later that day, saying they no longer had a guest room (that was a lie, and Ronaldo sincerely hoped she wouldn't find that out).

He was still anxious at the thought of her potentially worming her way into his father's heart again, making him want to fall back in love, and forgetting why he made her leave in the first place.

And Ronaldo knew it was all because of himself.

Part of him thought it was pretty stupid, a guy like himself still being afraid of someone he hadn't seen in years. It would probably just be easier if he stopped trying to hide, put on his big boy pants, and faced her like she was no different from all the weird life forms he encountered on a near-daily basis!

Another part of himself was preparing himself for the possibility that his father wouldn't find any place to strand her at, and then she'd discover the guest room, and get angry. And without Ronaldo there, she might take her anger out on his father. Or even his brother. Sure, Peedee was a tough kid, but with how much he was like her, he might just aggravate her further, and then it would be chaos all over again. Then again, with how much Peedee stayed around his father, and how good their father had been at being on their team during the whole thing, maybe that wouldn't happen.

Ronaldo had, out of his mother's earshot, asked his dad to notify him if he did happen to get her out of there. His father assured him he'd do so, knowing this wasn't something he could roll his eyes at and scold his eldest boy about.

Maybe it was something of a privilege, Ronaldo thought to himself, that he had a family who stood with him for this. Some kids probably weren't that lucky.

Around 4:30 that afternoon, Ronaldo heard the door to the lighthouse open, and get harshly slammed shut, and he almost predicted the worst, waiting to hear the irritated taps of her shoes on the steps up to his office.

He tensed as he heard footsteps approaching, feeling even more nervous at the fact he couldn't even identify them. They were too hard to be Peedee's, too soft to be his mother or father's, but with how quickly they were coming, he knew his reaction would have to be quick.

Once the door opened, he jolted like a startled animal, staring right into the intruder's face as he sat up.

Lars looked at him with a bewildered expression, and then rolled his eyes, "What? Surprised to see someone else in your nut-hut?"

Ronaldo slouched in his chair with an unamused look, "What are you doing here?"

Lars chewed a hangnail as he strutted a bit in place, "Sadie said somethin' about leaving her jacket here, and she didn't want me covering for her to grab it."

"She couldn't have picked it up after work?", Ronaldo raised an eyebrow.

"I insisted I get it for her as soon as possible."

Knowing Lars was doing this to slack off from work, Ronaldo spoke with sarcasm, "Wow, what a saint you are."

"I know," Lars shrugged, glancing around for the jacket, and all the while, catching a glimpse of everything in the room. Now that it was daylight, he could actually get a glimpse of everything that his weirdo former friend had collected over the years.

It was sort of strange, the two weren't really friends in any regard now, but it wasn't like before where they hated each other's guts. They just didn't bother with each other. Ronaldo could have his blog and his oddities, and Lars could have his teenage hormones and overabundance of body spray.

Lars began to scan everything more closely in search for the jacket, with a look of distaste, "Ech, you're a pack-rat, aren'tcha?"

"Don't touch that," Ronaldo warned, "It all contains valuable information on the cosmic vampires I'm investigating."

Giving a scoff of disbelief, Lars glanced at him, lifting corners of the newspaper stack he was standing in front of, "Dude, these are business ads."

"Ads for businesses that might involve vampires!", Ronaldo huffed, "Do you want me to help you look for the jacket so you can go?"

"I'm in no rush," Lars smirked smugly.

"You have to go back to work at some point."

"Well don't you?", Lars glanced at him, "I saw your brother sweepin' out front of your dad's shop."

"Is he OK?", Ron suddenly asked, not caring how anxious he just sounded. He'd almost forgotten about Peedee when Lars had started harassing him.

"Uh...he's fine?", the other gave him a weird look, "Why? Afraid he got hit by a comet full of bees?", he grinned derisively, wiggling his fingers above his head.

Ronaldo pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, "No...", and sighed, giving it to Lars straight, "My mom is in town."

Lars' sneer dropped slowly, and he stood upright, "Uh...oh..."

"Yeah."

"Uh..."

"My dad is going to see if he can get her a hotel to stay in until she leaves. He told her we don't have a guest room anymore."

Lars sucked in his cheeks, "Damn...that's...gotta be pretty awkward."

"Awkward isn't even the tip of the iceberg," Ron groaned, "It's more like completely terrifying. "

The only thing Lars really could answer with was a stiff nod.

To be honest, he didn't exactly have a full grasp on what the situation with Ronaldo's family was. All he knew was that it had been pretty bad when they were growing up, and it only started getting a little bit better a year before their friendship had broken apart.

There were some bits and pieces he had gathered when they were children; Ronaldo's mother was not a kind person, and sometimes, she would get so angry that even Ronaldo's dad was afraid...not for himself, but for his son, whose wild imagination and rambunctious spirit certainly did not please the woman. And sometimes, when she was really angry, it was bad for Ronaldo to even be in the house.

There was always quite a lot of surprise sleepovers where Mr. Fryman would bring over little Ronnie to Lars' home for the remainder of the night. Some of the nights, Ronnie was cheerful. Others...he seemed more reserved than normal. As a child, Lars chalked it up as him being tired. It had only been once he had grown up and his worldview matured that he realized Ronnie had been scared.

Seeing how stiffly Lars was standing in place, Ronaldo relaxed his stance a bit, and spoke with his ever so present confidence, "I just figured, for the time being, it would be best if I stay up here and get some work done."

"Ah...gotcha," Lars bit his lip, and awkwardly began to search for the jacket again, blankly scanning all of the papers and piles of junk, trying to distract from the pulsing wake up of a reminder that his former friend, and the guy he'd been publicly rolling his eyes at over and over for months, had probably gotten the stuffing beaten out of him by his own damn mother.

Man he felt like an asshole.

Ronaldo didn't really blame Lars for any of it. He wasn't to know about everything that went down in his past. He didn't blame him for triggering muscle memory of flinching and hiding his face away from every hand that sharply approached him, even with something as light as merely touching his hair. He'd even flinched when Steven, who was as harmless to him as a fly, had chucked a harmless snerson disguise in front of him onto the floor, thinking of the several times when an object was pulled from his hands and sent onto the floor in one fell swoop.

Feeling a sudden sense of dread as he heard a crash from around the other side of the pillar, Ronaldo hurried over to see Lars had knocked over a flimsy table of newspapers and magazines he'd collected.

"I swear I just bumped it on accident! I-"

"It's fine!", Ronaldo assured, sounding almost too relieved, "That table's been broken for years, I should have fixed it earlier."

Seeing the other about to get on his knees to pick up the mess, Lars awkwardly yelped, "U-Uh I got it, man!", and immediately dropped to the floor to gather the fallen papers.

Ronaldo rolled his eyes, "Don't bother. Just keep looking for the jacket."

Lars was about to do so when he came across a thick volume having been knocked over in the chaos, laying open, "This a scrapbook or somethin'?"

Ronaldo looked over, and immediately tensed, "It's nothing."

Looking over the open page, Lars saw a few select pictures of Ronaldo as a child, smiling for the camera in what appeared to be basic childhood memories, "Aww, they're pictures of you before you went super-nerd."

"Stop it," Ronaldo had spoken tersely, glaring right at the other.

Lars immediately drew his hands away from the book, "Got it got it," and guessed he struck a nerve. Maybe anything regarding childhood was a pretty sensitive spot for Ronaldo.

"I forgot I even had those up here," Ronaldo had muttered, crawling over to collect the album under his arm.

One photo had slipped out of it, onto the floor, and Lars had picked it up, offering it out, "Dropped one."

Ronaldo quickly snatched it out of his hand, "I was going to burn this one."

Lars took another glance at it, trying to be secretive about it, but Ronaldo just seemed to let him take a look anyway.

It had been from school picture day in third grade, Lars remembered. Ronaldo had just come in with a sudden crewcut, and wouldn't say a word on why he got it done that way. Lars had always thought Ronnie liked his wilder curls of hair.

From everything he'd learned that had happened, Ronnie's smile in the photograph looked strained.

Lars glanced at Ronaldo, whose face showed a strange disgust to it as he looked down at the photo.

Ronnie hadn't meant to slam the fridge door that hard, but his mother had said that it was 'his final warning', and that he was going to get punished for his bad behavior. He'd cried when she grabbed his bright blond curls and hacked the scissors through them, all the while telling him she was doing this for his own good. His father had stared forlornly at the pile of hair on the floor, then at his son's tears, and couldn't exactly agree with his wife's satisfaction at her self proclaimed 'creative' act of punishment.

Without even another word on it, blinking away a sudden heaviness in his eyes, and feeling his face get red, Ronaldo tore the picture into pieces effortlessly, and stuffed them in his pocket.

Lars had watched the whole thing, and awkwardly and reluctantly smiled, "Eh. I like your hair as it is now."

Ronaldo glanced at him, expression not changing, and then glanced back at the papers, still trying to gather them up.

This whole matter was really starting to make him feel exhausted more than anything, and he wanted to turn his attention to something else. He looked to Lars, "How's your family?"

"What?"

"I haven't seen your family around in a while, how are they?", Ronaldo asked, deciding asking about someone else's family would take his mind off his own.

"They're...fine I guess," Lars shrugged, "My folks are headin' to Mexico next month."

"Does your sister still do ballet?"

"Miriam? Nah, she quit that when she was 16."

"What does she do now?"

Lars paused, "...I don't know...", he admitted, "I haven't heard from her in seven years."

Ronaldo looked over, almost surprised, "Seven?"

"Yeah," Lars mumbled, "She...didn't really get along with the 'rents, so she bailed once she turned 18...them's the breaks," he sighed, and shuffled awkwardly around the room, his attention immediately catching to different knick-knacks decorating the sills of the giant windows, and gave a small chuckle with gentler teasing, "You put some of your toys in here?"

"All the ones that weren't already wrecked," Ronaldo shrugged, deciding to get up and walk over and point them out, "These were all some of my favorites, and I knew the general public wouldn't see reason to come up here, since this is private property or people would at least be polite in knocking," he leered at Lars.

"Y'don't have any in your room?"

"Not anything I'd feel bad about losing," Ronaldo admitted, "I've been moving more and more of my stuff in here because of the security in knowing nobody will disturb it."

"Yeah, can't argue with that I guess," Lars smirked, strutting over to another decorated sill, "This place is so gross, I don't see why anyone would come up here," and caught his attention on a small figurine made out of glass, and reached his hand over to examine it, "What's this?"

Ronaldo looked over, and immediately perked up, "Don't touch that!", he spoke up, hurrying over, "That's incredibly fragile!"

Lars immediately shot his hands back, and took a step away, "Uppsuppsupps!", he spoke from his throat, "Not touching!"

Ronaldo quickly looked at it to make sure it was fine, and sighed, "Sorry, that one's a little special."

"Gotcha," Lars muttered, "What is it even?"

"It's a unicorn," Ronaldo smiled proudly, "I received it as a present when I was but a young Fryman."

"Huh," Lars looked at him with a bit of skepticism, and eyed the little figurine again. While it was admittedly very nice and somewhat elegant, it looked more like drops of molten glass having been fused together and shaped so they had the resemblance of an equine figure prancing delicately, and a thin pointed rod of glass having been attached to the head to look like a horn.

"I'm not afraid to admit I cherish it quite a lot," Ronaldo fixed his glasses on his face.

"No kiddin'?", Lars took another look at the figurine, "Since when were you into unicorns?"

"I'm not," Ronaldo smiled, "This one's special."

"If y' say so," Lars snickered a bit, "So any 'theories' on unicorns showin' up around here?"

"Oh of course not," Ronaldo smiled, "Everyone knows unicorns aren't real. And if they were, they would have all died out a long time ago. Maybe even before the dinosaurs-"

"Whatever," Lars snorted, deciding to cut him off, "Does look kinda nice I guess. Reminds me of the Chinese gold horse my sister gave me when I was a kid."

"Oh that?", Ronaldo smiled, "I remember that! At the New Year party!...Yeah, I could see the resemblance. They are after all, both magical creatures of luck."

"Yeah," Lars smiled in spite of himself, then his smile faded a little, "She'd asked me to go with her...I was only ten...All I could think about was if my parents would get worried about me or that I'd start to miss them...and then I never hear from her again...I kinda wonder what might have happened if I did go with her...or if she's mad at me that I didn't go..."

Guessing the memories of the golden horse made Lars think about his sister's departure, and effectively his own bad memories, Ronaldo gently pat his shoulder, "If I've learned anything over the years, it's not our faults."

Lars glanced at him, and awkwardly rolled his shoulders, "Yeah. I guess," and then looked over at the glass figurine again, "...I don't wanna open any more cans of worms or anything, but...what makes this thing so special for you?"

Ronaldo had steeled himself for Lars to ask about it, and smiled calmly as he spoke, "It was the only present I had on my eighth birthday that my mom didn't end up breaking or taking away from me after a week. At the time, it was so small and unimportant, she missed it. When I first started moving stuff into the lighthouse to hide things from her, I almost forgot all about it. And then before my dad divorced her, she threw one final fit and started breaking stuff again; some of my dad's stuff, Peedee's baby toys, my remaining toys, kitchen supplies..."

"Yuck, nightmare," Lars grimaced.

"Oh yes," Ronaldo sighed, and continued, "...I only had a few toys left after that...never really had that many to begin with," he rolled his eyes, and then smiled, "But once again, she missed this. It was sitting in plain sight on my nightstand, and she didn't even touch it."

Lars looked at the figurine again, and it suddenly seemed a lot more important, almost magical, like a symbol for everything that had happened.

Ronaldo's mother may have broken toys, skin, and hearts, but she couldn't and never would break Ronaldo.

"...do you need a place to stay tonight?", Lars suddenly piped up, "Y'know, in case the 'Wicked Witch of the Breast' hasn't flown off yet?"

Ronaldo gave a small snort at the name Lars gave, and then smiled at the offer, "Thanks, but I think I'll be alright staying here. After all, someone needs to watch over the city when it sleeps, right?"

"Are you Batman?", Lars teased.

"Yes. Yes I am," Ronaldo spoke with dead seriousness, and whispered harshly under his breath, "I'm the goddamn Batman."

Lars cracked a laugh, and just like clockwork, both boy's phones seemed to be ringing. They both excused themselves to take their respective calls, and within less than a minute, both were finished.

"My dad called. He got her in a hotel outside city limits."

"Sadie called. Her jacket was in the break room."

"Looks like you can go back to work then," Ronaldo smiled smugly, and pat Lars' shoulder again.

Lars huffed, "Yeah, yeah, fine," and waved him off before turning on his heel to head down the stairs.

Ronaldo watched him turn to leave, then looked at the window sill, and called out, "Wait a second!"

Lars glanced over his shoulder, "Yeah?"

Ronaldo had Lars hold out his hands, and gently uncurled his own hand to show the unicorn resting on his palm, "Could you...take this and keep it for me?...with how much I move around in here, it's bound to fall off the sill one of these days," he began, "I'm sure you can find a place in your house where it can sit and not get damaged or anything."

Feeling a sudden shake in his legs, and a small leap in his stomach at being trusted with something clearly so delicate and special, Lars paused before he gave a small but genuine smile, and nodded, "Sure man," and gently took it in his hands, giving another wave as he headed down the stairs, and out the door.

Ronaldo watched him leave from the window, and then grabbed his telescope to look out the other side of the lighthouse, the side facing the city. He could see his father's restaurant , and a small ant-sized dot he could identify as Peedee, still sweeping, still safe.

He decided, for sake of it, he would stay in the lighthouse tonight, and keep watch over his city, a duty he was proud to take as his own.

Lars called Sadie as he walked down the hill, telling her he would be a bit late coming back to the store, promising he'd help her close up, but there was something he had to do.

His golden horse wasn't going to be lonely on his shelf anymore.

General mythology on unicorns is that their horns contain magical powers that can heal both physical and mental pain, especially sorrows of the heart.