Will is like, twelve in this? Once again, italics aren't showing up on my phone, so they might not on yours either.

You can skip to the bottom if you just want to see the letter, but uh, I'd recommend you read through? It's kind of long, but I think the letter would make better sense. Aaaand it's kind of short, so... owo Agh, I'm sorry if I didn't live up to your expectations. ;A;

AngryTeen!Will for your reading pleasure-

The school day was at an end. The students were moving slowly through the corridors, chatting and taking their time to get anything they needed out of their lockers. Will moved quickly through the crowd, eyes straight ahead. Just a few more meters and then he'd be out. If his luck would just hold-

"Hey, Will-iam!"

Will cringed, and stopped walking. That was his first mistake. The second was responding to Matthew Miller.

"It's just Will, Matt." Will started down the hall again, but was forcibly turned around by the shoulders, and pushed back into the row of lockers on the side. He crashed into them with a resounding clang. The breath was knocked out of him.

Matthew Miller was in the same age as Will, though much larger. He had dark, uneven hair that was gelled back in a way that most definitely didn't suit him, and tiny brown eyes that, in Will's opinion, were placed too far apart. He seemed to have taken it on himself to make each day of Will's as miserable as possible.

At the moment, Will found himself staring at Matthew, who was surrounded by three of his friends/thugs.

"Look, guys, I just want to get home." Will protested, and tried to walk past them, but was pushed back before he'd even gone two steps. People were looking now. Pausing their conversations and turning to find the source of the commotion.

"Isn't he a good boy?" Matthew mockingly asked his group. They chuckled in a way that reminded Will of trained monkeys.

"Very funny. Can I go now?"

The other boy sneered. "No, I gotta bone to pick with you. You called me 'Matt'."

"Your name IS Matt. You can't be that stupid."

"No, Matt is what people on my level call me. You have to call me Matthew. Or better yet, call me sir."

"What? No way!" Will tried walking past again. This time Matthew punched him in the gut, sending him backwards. He let out an involuntary squeak.

Matthew laughed. "Now go on, call me sir."

Will gritted his teeth. "No. Way. In. Hell."

He expected another punch, but for some reason, Matthew backed off, gave him a look that said 'we'll be settling this later' and cleared off rather hurriedly. Will was confused for a second before he notice Mr. Jenkins, one of his teachers coming down the hall.

Like most bullies, Matthew was scared teachers. Will wasn't happy. He didn't want to be protected, dammit. He'd have preferred getting another beating rather than this. It was just his nature. He always seemed to pick fights.

With a grunt, he hefted his backpack and made for the exit.

Will was cutting through the park to get home when he heard it.

"HEY! SOLACE!"

He had been followed. Of course. Matthew didn't miss a single opportunity to use Will as a punching bag. Besides, Will knew very well that Matthew didn't like being interrupted during one of his rituals. And they seemed to be on last names now. This was serious.

Matthew was alone. Even more serious. He did all his real work alone. Will was ashamed to find that he was a little scared.

"What do you want, Matthew?"

"I see you learned from this afternoon. Good boy, keep it up and I'll give you a treat!" Matthew taunted.

"Whatever." He turned around. Maybe he could just walk away. Maybe Matthew would lose interest. Maybe-

WHAM!

There was a force on his back, and Will fell face first into the dirt. He tried to get up, but Matthew planted a boot on the back of his head. Will tasted mud. He fought back a few rebellious tears that had nothing to do with how much the impact had hurt, oh no.

"You seemed a little cocky today, Solace. I think I should fix that. You might lose your respect, you see."

Will checked himself in elevator mirror. He'd gotten most of the dirt off his face, it was still fairly grimy as he hadn't used any water. The scrapes had stopped bleeding, thank god. But the cut on his elbow was still stubbornly letting out a flow of dark blood. He'd picked the wrong day to wear short sleeves.

He was struck with the unfairness of it all. He'd never done a thing to Matthew. It was just that the first day, he'd talked back. He should have guessed that Matthew didn't take too kindly to insubordination.

Today in the park, Matthew had called him stupid. Will was tired of people doing that. He was dyslexic, that was all. That didn't mean he was stupid. Did it? No, of course not... He'd also been called a mama's boy. Well, he couldn't help it, could he? His mother was all he had. And he was all she had. They had to look out for each other.

He was painfully aware that he couldn't do much, though. He felt his heart break every time he came home and his mother was sleeping on the couch, exhausted from all the work she did. If she was lucky enough to have a few spare hours before her show at nine.

But she always had a smile for him. Always asked him how his day was, if he needed any help with his homework. He sometimes did, but he didn't have the heart to add to her work load. It was also the reason he hadn't told her about Matthew.

He stood in front of the apartment door, readying himself to go into his room as quickly as possible so that she couldn't see the blood on his clothes and the mud in his hair. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door, closed it behind him, and all but ran towards his room.

He had almost made it when-

"Will, you're home! How was-" Will didn't dare turn. he knew very well why his mother had stopped speaking.

"It was fine, thanks." His escape was prevented by Mia Solace planting her hands on his shoulders and gently turning him around.

He looked away, not meeting her eyes. If he did, he'd start crying, he knew he would. His mother often had that effect on him.

"Will, honey," she said slowly, "Did- did you get beaten up? Did someone hit my baby?"

"I'm fine." He wasn't her baby anymore.

"Who was it? We should complain to the school, they can do something about it-"

"I'm fine, mom." The school couldn't do anything. Besides, he didn't want to be protected. Why couldn't she understand?

"No, you're not! You're hurt! Just look at your-"

"I said I'M FINE!" He pushed her away. In the split second before he turned away, his eyes met hers. She looked devastated that he'd yelled. He quickly ducked into his room, but it was too late; she'd already seen the tears.

Will spent an hour just lying on his back, letting out his emotions. His mother had spent a good chunk of that time outside his locked door, knocking and asking him to open it. Telling him that she could help, that he didn't have to go through anything alone.

He'd wanted to let her in, but at the same time he didn't. He didn't want to be a mama's boy anymore. He didn't want to be called weak, he didn't! But maybe that's what he was.

"Will!" He heard her calling through the door. "I need to go out, there's food on the table if you're hungry. We can talk later if you want to." He saw her shadow through the narrow space underneath, hopefully waiting for a reply before leaving.

After a few minutes, he heard the front door open and close. He rolled off his bed, landing on all fours. He wasn't hungry, but staying still was not his forte. His tears were all dried up now, and he couldn't bear just doing nothing. Without any real aim, he went to his desk and sat down.

There was a multitude of papers strewn across the surface, and a stack of notebooks off to one side. A single folder sat at the other end, filled with his old assignments and drawings. He really didn't like looking at it, but his mother insisted that he keep it out so that she could look at it whenever she wanted. And he always listened to her.

Except for today. Why had he yelled at her? She'd just been trying to help. The shocked, sad look on her face came back to him in vivid detail. The tears he'd been so sure were over were now coming back with a vengeance.

To distract himself, he randomly opened the folder, and flipped through. Oh god, his handwriting had been so bad. It wasn't very good now, and that was an improvement. Not to mention that all the people in his drawings seemed to resemble sticks with a squashed ball of dough stuck on top.

They were quite frightening, honestly.

He turned the page, and his eyes landed on a paper that was so old it was starting to yellow. Or maybe it was originally like that. He didn't remember. An assignment from kindergarten. He'd written a letter. A letter to his father.

Will half-smiled as he read it. He'd been so innocent. Too much for his taste. He scowled as he remembered Aunt Rose. The only reason he hadn't ever called her up and screamed abuse down the phone was because she was his mother's sister.

He'd been so stupid to believe that his father would ever read it. He'd been a good for nothing. Why else would he leave Will's mother when she was pregnant with him? He had been scared of responsibility, there was no other explanation. And his mother obviously still liked him. If he ever dared set foot in this house, Will would have chased him off with a knife. The idiot had practically ruined his mother's life.

But still, for some reason, whenever he thought about how affectionately his mother spoke about his father, he felt a strange sense of warmth. Even if he felt angry afterwards. His mother was so loving, she deserved so much better.

He leaned back in the chair and growled in frustration. He knew life wasn't fair but this was ridiculous! He rubbed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He was so frustrated. Frustrated and angry at his father. He needed to scream, shout. But he'd get them both evicted for disturbing the peace. Maybe...

Feeling a bit awkward, he dug through his drawer till he found what he was looking for- a pad of paper. Grabbing a pen out of his backpack, he settled down at the desk, shoved a few sheets away and started writing.

'Dear' Dad,

I honestly don't know why I'm doing this. You're never going to read it. Nor would I let you. But this is strangely calming.

Right. So I've been feeling worthless lately. I know what you'd say: "it's part of growing up", "you'll think how silly you were in a couple of years", "everyone feels the same". But you're wrong. The others don't have to deal with everything I do. They can read like a normal human being, they don't have to worry about their mother every moment of the day.

She's sick. I know she tries to hide it, but I can tell. And I'm terrified that something might happen to her. And this might sound selfish, but she's all I have. If anything goes wrong, where'll I go? Social Services? I don't want to get booted around from family to family. I don't want to feel unwanted. But it looks like that's where I'm heading.

It's your fault, you know. Entirely yours. If you'd stayed, she wouldn't have to work so much. I'm assuming, of course, that you would have found a job, and not been a lazy ass. She deserves loads better than you, I hope you know. Loads, LOADS, better.

Why did you leave, though? Did you just leave one day? SO suddenly that she didn't have a chance to tell you that I was on the way? Or were you scared? I can understand that, but if you didn't want to look after a child, you could have just sent some money occasionally, you irresponsible-

Will stopped himself. Deadbeat or not, he didn't think he should insult anybody his mother so obviously still fancied.

The only reason I'm not saying worse is because of mom. I still hate you, I hate every fibre of your being. If you think I'm in some sort of denial, you are sadly mistaken.

Which brings me back to mom. I'm worried about her, I really am. If she doesn't stop working so much...do you think you could come back for me if she died? I don't want to be alone.

Will reviewed the last two sentences, annoyed with himself. He angrily crossed them out, trying to ignore the feeling of dread in his stomach whenever he thought about his mother.

No. I'm not in denial.

Did you really love her? Or was she just...I don't know, entertainment or something? I subtracted my age from hers the other day. She was nineteen when she had me, did you know that? She was an outcast, even from her own family. You ruined her life, and I can't excuse you for that.

She works three jobs now. Two in the morning, and singing at night. She says that's how you met her. I don't blame you for falling for her. She does sound amazing. I bet she sounds better than you ever did, even though she says you were much better than her.

I don't think I'll ever be half as hard working as she is. It's hard when you can't even read without getting a headache. The only reason I'm sad is because I'm sure she must be disappointed in me. Because I'm not as good as the others. I try, I really do. I just...can't.

Am I as stupid as Matthew says? I tell myself I'm not, but y'know, denial and all. I hope I'm not. Mom doesn't deserve a stupid child. All I know is that I'm blaming you for your genes.

I really, really don't know how to express how much I loathe your existence.

Will liked that last sentence.

But I hope this gave you an idea.

No love,
Will

Eh, I'd like to think Matthew got severely sunburned later in the week. Because I got a thing for protective fictional daddies. eue

Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think. ^_^