After spending two days of trying to convince Chris to get out of the house and have some fun, Wyatt was finally able to talk his little brother into going to Victor's house for the weekend. So, after school on Friday, Victor came and picked up Chris.
"I could have just orbed straight to your house. You didn't have to drive all the way to my school," Chris said about five minutes into the drive back to Victor's house.
"Didn't your mother always get on you about orbing too much?" Victor asked, only changing the subject when he noticed Chris's face become depressed at the subject. "Besides, I didn't mind. This gives us a chance to talk."
"So, whose idea was this?" Chris wondered.
"What?" Victor asked, not understanding.
"Whose idea was it for me to come spend the weekend with you and Grandma Eva? I know it was either you or Wyatt," Chris said, staring out the car window.
"Why do you assume it was me or your brother? It could have been your grandmother."
"Grandpa." Chris smirked at the old man.
"Fine, it was both me and Wyatt. But, your grandmother practically leapt three feet in the air when she heard I was going to bring you home with me this weekend," Victor said, smiling at his grandson.
"You guys aren't very sneaky," Chris chuckled. "I asked Wyatt why I was the only one coming to your house and he said it was because no one else wanted to go. Does he think I'm stupid enough to believe that?"
"There's no pulling the wool over your eyes, Chris."
"It's more like a veil," Chris said before pointing to the radio. "Can I?"
"My rules have never changed, Chris," Victor sighed, a little disappointed that his grandson would think anything other than that.
Chris surfed the stations until he landed on one in particular that he like. He switched up the volume a bit and Victor took a moment to focus on the rock playing from the speakers.
"You kids and this music today. I don't see how you can understand a word they're saying in these songs," Victor said as he put his left signal on to turn.
"It's called listening," Chris said in a slow and sarcastic voice, causing the older man to chuckle.
"I'll be sure to remember that the next time I go to a concert."
Chris wanted to laugh at that. But, since he wasn't up for laughing much these days he just settled for aiming a quizzical stare at his grandfather. "Like I'd ever catch you at a rock concert."
"Don't be so sure of that. I hear that a certain band you're interesting in is coming to San Francisco. Now, let me think." He pressed his lips together, pretending to ponder over the band's name. "I believe they're called Crash to Kill."
If he hadn't had Chris's attention before, he most certainly had it now. The teenager's eyes could have bulged out of his head as he seized Victor's arm in shock.
"That's one of my favorite bands of all time. I've been trying to score tickets to see them for months," Chris said, in disbelief that he'd not know that C.T.K. was having a show in San Francisco.
"Well, they're out here now. And I, as you said, 'scored' us two tickets," Victor said and had to grin as Chris all but bounced in his seat at the words.
"Are you for real? You got tickets? Don't play around with me, Grandpa." Chris was as serious as a heart attack, his heart beating against his ribs in anticipation.
"If you don't believe me now wait till we are sitting nearly first row at the concert next week," Victor laughed just as he whipped two pieces of paper from his coat pocket.
Chris gaped at the tickets, seeing that they were authentic, before leaping at his grandfather and smothering the man in a hug.
"Thank you so much, Grandpa!"
Victor's grin expanded and he removed one hand from the steering wheel long enough to ruffle Chris's hair.
"Don't mention it, kiddo."
It was obvious how better Chris did at his grandparents' home, away from the chaos of the Halliwell kids and weight of the Charmed Ones passing at home. Not long after he arrived, Chris's whole demeanor had changed. He instantly sat down to watch TV and play a few games of chess with his grandmother as soon as she bribed him with some of her famous chocolate fudge. He'd even opened up and chatted a little during dinner as Eva stuffed him with roast, only tearing up slightly if he came upon a very fond memory of his mother. Wyatt had been right in suggesting Chris spent time with his grandparents. This way he was out of the house, but still in familiar and loving territory. Plus, Eva was spoiling him rotten.
Victor stopped in the doorway on his way into the living room as a gentle and melancholy melody drifted across the room. Standing as quietly as he could, Victor watched his grandson strum the strings of his acoustic guitar to create the beautiful music. Chris's eyes were closed and he swayed slightly with the rhythm, feeling the music as any great musician did. Victor was tempted to walk away and allow the boy to continue releasing his inner pain through the instrument in his hands. But, it was late and sleep would do Chris some good.
"Knock. Knock," Victor chuckled as he rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.
Chris's fingers stilled and he swung his head around to smirk at Victor. His cleared his throat in embarrassment that he had been caught during one of his many moments where it felt as if the music had just taken over. Whenever he was playing, it felt like nothing else mattered. When there was music, it was just Chris's world and nothing could hurt him.
"Let me guess. Grandma Eva sent you down here to make me go to bed, right?" Chris said, knowing the hold his grandmother had over her husband.
"Hey, the woman ever has me on a bedtime. So, don't feel bad." A breath that Victor took to be a silent laugh by the smile on his lips came from Chris. "You should be heading off to bed anyway. It's past midnight."
"Already?" Chris gasped, taking a glance at his watch. "I didn't realize it'd gotten that late."
"Come on," Victor said with a wave of his hand.
Sighing, Chris got to his feet, bringing his guitar with him. He stepped under his grandfather's waiting arm and the older man held him close as the two walked out of the room.
"Are you having fun?" Victor asked and gave Chris's shoulders a playful shake.
Chris nodded, his eyes brightening a little. "I love it here, Grandpa. There's just something about your house."
"Oh, so you don't like the company of me and your grandmother?" Victor scoffed, mocking feelings of hurt.
"That too," Chris put in quickly.
Victor laughed and squeezed his grandson a bit closer in his embrace, knowing despite Chris being fourteen that the teen didn't mind.
"I think what you needed was to get away from your siblings and cousins. Prue is a handful alone. And I know it's not easy trying to take orders from Wyatt."
"No, that's not it," Chris disagreed, his brow wrinkling in a frown. "I'm used to all the others being crazy and pestering me. It's the other stuff. You know what I'm talking about. People are always dropping by to say how sorry they are about what happened and asking if there's anything they can do. My teachers are only being nice to me because they think the homework is too hard on me now. It's even like the demons are backing off because they feel sorry for us. Well, I'm sick and tired of people pitying me. They don't know me or what is going on inside of me. They can't even begin to identify with what I've been through."
Victor's own desire to pity his grandson rose when he saw the anger in Chris's eyes. But, that was the last thing Chris needed to see. So, Victor wiped his face of everything and nodded to let Chris know that he was listening. This was no result coming from his mother's death. Chris had always despised those who saw him as weak and tried to sympathize with him; forever having secret inferiority issues with Wyatt. So, Victor wouldn't do any of the sort. He'd just be there for Chris and let his grandson take the reins.
"I'm not going to lie and say I don't feel the same way as those people do towards you sometimes," Victor said and ignored the glare directed at him. "But, if you want me to back off, then I'll back off. All I want is for you to know that if you can't ever find a way to talk to Wyatt or anyone else, I'm here. I won't judge you or question you. All you have to do is come to me and that'll be enough."
By the time they reached the guest bedroom where Chris was staying, the young witch/whitelighter had thought it over and nodded once in understanding. Victor stared down into those jaded and troubled green eyes, seeing that the boy was exhausted and had nothing left to give.
"Goodnight, Chris," Victor said, wrapping Chris in a one arm hug and pressing a kiss to his head. "Remember. You can come to me any time and I'll listen."
He put his hand to Chris's shoulder once more before he turned away as a way to always let Chris know that someone was there for him. As he started to walk down the hall Victor listened for the sound of Chris's door closing to make sure the boy got to bed okay. But, it never came.
Victor halted abruptly and turned back to see what was the problem. Chris remained in the doorway, gripping the handle of the door as he gazed at Victor with stormy eyes glazed in a layer of forming tears.
"Can I come to you right now, Grandpa?" Chris voice couldn't even be called a whisper. It was so much quieter; almost unheard.
Victor's features softened, knowing his wife would scold him in the morning for keeping Chris up. But, it was worth it. The look on Chris's face said it was worth it.
As tenderly as touching a newborn, Victor put his hand on Chris's shoulder and steered him back to the living room as he whispered in his grandson's ear, "I'm listening."