A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Latibaer or LazyTown—Magnus Scheving does. Dave, Uncle T, and the mother are mine.
As far as I know, this one of the very few GoggixMaggi fics that exists online. Is that because not a lot of us understand Icelandic? Hmm. Well, I have a good enough grasp on what goes on in Latibaer, so I'm going to try my hand at some GoggixMaggi slash. I'm new to slash, so…suggestions are very welcome. And now—on with the fic!
Something just wasn't right.
He sped up, his legs aching from the increased pace.
He had never run this far in his life.
But it was necessary—if he didn't, he surely wouldn't be able to survive that place another second.
He reached the end of the alley and cursed. A dead end.
He looked around, making sure that he wasn't being followed, and attempted to climb over the fence.
He succeeded, and dropped down on the other side, only to have someone grab him.
"You're such a long way from home, young man. Your mother will have a fit if you don't return soon," said a man, who he recognized to be his Uncle T.
"What do you care? You don't even like her!" the boy yelled, fists clenching.
"Watch your mouth. You're with family. Now, I suggest you come with me so I can take you home."
"No! I'm not going back there ever again."
His uncle grabbed both of his arms and twisted them behind his back. The teenager gasped with pain.
"Let—me—GO!"
"Sorry, but I can't do that."
He dragged him over to his car, and forced him inside.
His uncle pushed him through the door of his house minutes later. He had stopped struggling—his uncle was very strong. Or maybe it just felt that way, because he was very thin and weak from malnutrition and lack of exercise.
A woman opened the kitchen door and stepped into the room, staggering and swaying, shaking her fist at the boy sitting on the floor.
"You! So yer finally back, eh?" she asked, slurring her words. "And yeh brought yer uncle with yeh!"
He groaned. His mother was drunk. She was most dangerous when drunk.
His uncle nodded, and stepped towards the door. "He's all yours," he said as he left.
He and his mother were alone. All alone. There was no telling what could happen next.
"Yeh shouldn't've run away like that…" she said after a few minutes. "Might've gotten inter trouble."
He didn't say anything—he just glared at her.
"I'll just have to teach you not to do that again. What d'ya say to that, boy?"
He said nothing.
"Fine."
She ripped an extension cord out of the wall. His eyes widened with fear as she started walking towards him. He scrambled backwards into a corner. Bad idea. She came closer. He was trapped.
She struck him with it once, and then tore off his shirt, striking him repeatedly until deep welts appeared on his body.
He curled into a ball, tears running down his cheeks as his mother struck him with the extension cord over and over.
A sob escaped his throat. He hated this. He wanted to run away, to escape this place and his mother once and for all.
The door opened just then, and someone stepped through the door.
"What the hell are you doing?!" they yelled. He recognized the voice as his friend Dave's.
His mother stopped and looked up to see who it was. She stood up and tossed the cord aside.
She started staggering towards Dave, who backed away. He raised the baseball bat he was carrying and hit her with it. He smacked her again, harder this time. She fell to the ground.
Hearing her fall, the beaten teen looked up. She was knocked out.
"What—" started Dave, but his friend put up a hand to silence him.
"I don't want to talk about it right now." Dave nodded and helped him up.
They walked outside together, and went down the street. When they reached the corner, they stopped.
"I'm going now," said the wounded teen. "I know where to go. Don't worry about me—just go home."
"No way, dude."
"Listen to me—you have a family. You have a life. I don't. Just worry about yourself. I'll be fine."
Dave nodded reluctantly, and turned to leave, waving goodbye and hoping that, wherever his friend was headed, he wouldn't get jumped on the way there.
The other boy just continued walking. He ached all over, but ignored the pain and kept going. He knew just where to go—but it was a long way from where he was.
A few days later, he had reached the sign he had been looking for. He smiled weakly. He had made it.
It was when he reached the town square that he collapsed, unconscious.
"Well, well—what do we have here?" asked a boy with green hair and goggles, peering at the unconscious teen and smiling sadly.
"I guess I'll just have to take you home, then." The green-haired boy dragged the unconscious teen to the technological wonderland he called home.
A/N: His mother is obviously a drunk, and likes to abuse him. It's been that way since he was a child, and he's tired of the abuse, so he tries to run away. He leaves his friend behind, too, because it's difficult to be close to others when you're abused so often.
Thanks to MyaRukawa for drawing "What're you lookin at?"—it was what inspired this fic.