Title: Superpowers: Invisibility
Author: Syberina5 or tsarcasm
Word Count: 600ish; Complete
Summary: I can't see you, you can't see me.
Disclaimer: [insert dry, pat disclaimer here]
Dedication: to blissink who's own super-vision is giving her trouble. Hopefully you're all better soon and can see this.
Author's Notes: Short and standalone in the Block of Wood 'Verse (Pre-'Part I: Birth' Pittsburg). This one actually makes me really sad. But I think it explains a lot.
He remembers the day he was stupid.
Sitting on this atrocity of a couch, watching Gus' giggling breath ruffle the curtain.
I can't see you, you can't see me.
That simple childhood logic. He hears Justin, Mel, Linds hollering through the house. Playing Gus' invisibility game. It's Mikey's fault. And the lesbians' for letting him think it's cute.
He fights himself.
He wants to swoop his kid up and teach him how to really hide. How to hide so you're safe from the fuckers who come after you, no matter who you are, no matter who they are.
He remembers the day he hid behind a curtain, not smiling and giggling and wanting to be found. He remembers how his heart, so big in his little chest, seized, stopped, and then thundered when the curtain was whipped away to reveal Jack's purple face, Jack's burning eyes, Jack's fists the size of Gus' head.
So he makes himself sit there. He won't play this game but he won't teach his son that kind of fear.
He hates that the munchers tell him pretty lies about the world. But for his son he wants them to be real. He wants all the truth he grew up staring in the face never to touch Gus.
So he sits. He remembers. And he tries to burn the image of Gus' shining eyes, the glee beaming off of his face, over the image of Jack's hate, the feeling he has for Gus over his own pain.
He knows Gus isn't stupid. He just trusts the people who should love him because they do.
Mel would never slap him and call him devil's spawn. Lindsay would never puke bourbon all over him and pass out drunk, Gus holding her, thinking she was dead in his arms. Justin would never kick in the thin ribs that held his pounding heart inside him. Brian would never, never, spend every dime they owned on a poker game, or a bender, so that Gus would have to eat boiled potatoes until the next payday or a neighbor took pity on them and gave them a casserole.
He watches Mel wander through the room calling out for Gus, looking in his usual hiding spots, eyeing Brian for help, making some cheesy observation that only fuels Gus' pretending.
He won't help; she glares when she realizes it and leaves the room.
He hears Gus laugh outright when she's gone. Hears Sonnyboy say, "Daddy I'm behind the drapes."
"I know you are Sonnyboy."
"You can see me?" He feels the disappointment in his kid's voice.
"Yeah," he says, still not willing to play this game, create a false reality that will only hurt Gus when he sees what a lie it all was.
"Your daddy has superpowers too, Gus-Gus." He hears Justin moving in from the kitchen, feels the boy looking over his face, feels him seeing too much of one thing, not enough of another. Justin's superpower. "Brian, is he on the couch with you?"
"No, Sunshine, he's not."
"Hmmm." He watches Justin's face light up when Gus giggles. "I know. I'll tickle it out of you."
He knew, he knew Justin knew, Gus would abandon his invisibility to have a tickle war with his old man.
This is what he wants Gus to remember; his belief in his superpowers to end with laughter. Still helpless but not broken or alone.