Disclaimer- You know the drill. Don't own anything you recognize.
Summary- St. John Allerdyce always had a fascination with fire. My story on Pyro's life before Magneto.
Chapter Five- Fight
Chris came home two days later after he had surgery on his left leg. The whole leg was covered in a white cast and he had crutches and a wheelchair. He also cracked two ribs and had a few large bruises. Nothing too serious.
John wished the bugger just stayed in the hospital. He was hogging all the attention.
"John go get me a glass of orange juice," Chris called from the living room where he was watching television. John groaned. Why couldn't Chris get it? He was the one who was closer to the kitchen, anyways.
John stomped down the stairs, careful to stomp VERY loudly and practically banged on everything on the way to the kitchen. He was NOT somebody's slave!
He yanked the refrigerator door open and took out the jug of orange juice and set it on the floor. He then took a dirty glass out of the sink and set it next to the jug on the floor. He unscrewed the cap of the jug and poured it into the glass, most of the juice missing it completely.
John scowled. He was NOT having a good day. Then he picked up the glass and yet again stomped and banged on everything that was in his path (or not) on the way to the living room where Chris was lounging.
Chris gave him a weird look and reached out for the glass. John shoved it into his hand, causing it to slop all over the place. Chris gave him an annoyed glare. "Wot the hell was that foah?"
John just glared back and stomped to the kitchen, yet again pounding on everything he could find. He was very lucky his parents were at work and that they let him stay home from school to help Chris around the house. Like he even WANTED to do that.
He then slammed the refrigerator door shut, hearing some jars and bottles clink together loudly from inside. He was pretty sure he broke something, but he really didn't care. He was mad.
He took a towel and did a 'half-assed' job in cleaning the orange juice up. It was still wet and sticky. He threw the jug away.
"John!"
John's head snapped to the direction of the way into the living room. He scowl became more pronounced. He started muttering dark things no seven year old should mutter under his breath.
"Wot do ya want NOW?" he snapped at Chris.
"Help me ta moy room. Ya just gotta help me balance, that's awl," He said and pushed himself up on his feet, standing awkwardly because of his cast.
Chris held out his arm and indicated that John needed to go over there. John did so, and Chris wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders. John wrapped his arm around Chris's waist.
They stumbled through the room and it took quite a while to climb up the stairs. They then entered Chris's room. John was about to leave before Chris said, "Just one moah thing, John."
John turned around and looked at him expectantly. Chris was collapsed on the bed, sweating slightly.
"Wot?"
Chris raised his head to look at him. "Just go to Mum and Dad's room. Get me seven cigarettes. Please?"
John stared at Chris. "Yoah the one who stole Mum's cigarettes the othah day?"
"Just get 'em, John."
"Mum's gonna notice."
"Oy don' care."
John silently walked out of the room and to his parent's room across the hall. He opened the door quietly and stepped inside. He walked up to his mother's dresser and opened the top drawer. He took one pack of the five. He opened the top and took out seven of them and stuffed them under a pair of underwear.
He stepped back into Chris's room and gave them to him.
"Just open the window and give me moy loightah ovah theah," Chris said as if he were out of breath, sticking one of the cigarettes in his mouth.
John grabbed the lighter from the desk and opened the window. He walked back over to Chris and gave him his lighter.
"Can Oy have one?" he asked. Chris looked at him in surprise.
"No, ya can' have one," he snapped.
"Whoy not? Yoah smokin' them."
"Oy wouldn't be a good oldah brothah if Oy let moy seven year old brothah smoke," Chris said, taking a long drag of the cigarette.
John stared at the lighted end. "Is it fun?"
"No."
"Then whoy do ya do it?"
"Just leave me alone, John."
John turned around sharply and walked over to the door. Just as he was about to close it Chris said, "John?"
"Wot NOW?"
"Promise me you won' evah smoke?"
John paused for a minute, surprised by the question. "Oy promise."
"Thanks."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They sat around the kitchen table, eating in an awkward silence. Irene was even silent, sensing the tenseness around her.
"One of moy cigarettes were opened today," Sue said stiffly. Chris kept his head down.
"Are you accusin' me again?" Steve snapped angrily.
"I dunno," she said.
"Well Oy didn't take them. Oy have moy own," he growled, taking a sip of his beer. It was usual that Steve and Sue drank beer at dinner.
"Well, somebody took 'em!"
"Well it wasn't me!"
"Oy took them." A quiet voice said. Nobody heard it but John, who was sitting next to the person that said it. John looked at his food, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore.
"OY SAID OY DIDN'T TAKE THEM!"
"OY BET YOAH LOYIN' YA AWLWAYS DO!"
"Oy took them!" Chris said louder. His parents stopped yelling at each other abruptly and looked at Chris in surprise.
"Chris?" His mother said faintly.
Chris stood up, leaning on the table for support. "Oy took them. Just stop blamin' Dad."
"You took them?"
"Oy just SAID that!" Chris snarled irritably.
"Don't get smart!" Steve warned.
"Oy'm not! Oy jus' said Oy took the cigs! OY was smokin' them! Oy've been smokin' since last year! Just stop foightin' with each othah!"
"How dare you? Yoah only fourteen! Wot tha hell are ya smokin' foah?" His mother yelled at him.
"You an' dad smoked at moy age! Wot's the difference now?" Chris shouted back. John closed could not help but watch. Irene was silent and was staring at them with wide, light blue eyes.
"Yoah not smokin' anymoah! Yoah not goin' anywheah foah a year!" Steve yelled at his son.
"Fuck you!" Chris shouted back.
His father's eyes widened in shock and then his face flushed in anger. He swung his fist at Chris, and Chris toppled over from the strike.
"Bastard! Bastard!" Chris shouted, holding his aching face.
"How dare you!" Steve shouted. "How DARE you say that ta us!"
"Stop!" John shouted from his spot. It terrified him to see Chris lying there on the ground like that.
"Fuck you! You nevah were parents! You awlways smoke and drink, tha's awl you do!" Chris shouted, his eyes brimmed with angry tears.
Sue stepped forward. "Don' you dare! Or OY'LL hit you! Yoah not the son Oy raised!"
"Stop! Just stop foightin'!" John cried from his spot, covering his ears with his hands. It had never gotten this bad before.
Chris pulled himself to his feet with difficulty. "Oy'm goin' ta bed."
They watched as he struggled through the kitchen and heard him climb up the stairs. It was really slow and he was having a lot of difficulty.
John ran from the room, not wanting to take anymore.
Chris never was the same after that.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Yay! A faster update! Chapter's still a bit short though, sorry. Congrats to Dont-eat-chunky-pudding and The Rogue Witch for guessing who took the cigs right. Here's your cookies! *tosses you random kinds of cookies* Enjoy!
Thanks to all who reviewed!
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review!
Summary- St. John Allerdyce always had a fascination with fire. My story on Pyro's life before Magneto.
Chapter Five- Fight
Chris came home two days later after he had surgery on his left leg. The whole leg was covered in a white cast and he had crutches and a wheelchair. He also cracked two ribs and had a few large bruises. Nothing too serious.
John wished the bugger just stayed in the hospital. He was hogging all the attention.
"John go get me a glass of orange juice," Chris called from the living room where he was watching television. John groaned. Why couldn't Chris get it? He was the one who was closer to the kitchen, anyways.
John stomped down the stairs, careful to stomp VERY loudly and practically banged on everything on the way to the kitchen. He was NOT somebody's slave!
He yanked the refrigerator door open and took out the jug of orange juice and set it on the floor. He then took a dirty glass out of the sink and set it next to the jug on the floor. He unscrewed the cap of the jug and poured it into the glass, most of the juice missing it completely.
John scowled. He was NOT having a good day. Then he picked up the glass and yet again stomped and banged on everything that was in his path (or not) on the way to the living room where Chris was lounging.
Chris gave him a weird look and reached out for the glass. John shoved it into his hand, causing it to slop all over the place. Chris gave him an annoyed glare. "Wot the hell was that foah?"
John just glared back and stomped to the kitchen, yet again pounding on everything he could find. He was very lucky his parents were at work and that they let him stay home from school to help Chris around the house. Like he even WANTED to do that.
He then slammed the refrigerator door shut, hearing some jars and bottles clink together loudly from inside. He was pretty sure he broke something, but he really didn't care. He was mad.
He took a towel and did a 'half-assed' job in cleaning the orange juice up. It was still wet and sticky. He threw the jug away.
"John!"
John's head snapped to the direction of the way into the living room. He scowl became more pronounced. He started muttering dark things no seven year old should mutter under his breath.
"Wot do ya want NOW?" he snapped at Chris.
"Help me ta moy room. Ya just gotta help me balance, that's awl," He said and pushed himself up on his feet, standing awkwardly because of his cast.
Chris held out his arm and indicated that John needed to go over there. John did so, and Chris wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders. John wrapped his arm around Chris's waist.
They stumbled through the room and it took quite a while to climb up the stairs. They then entered Chris's room. John was about to leave before Chris said, "Just one moah thing, John."
John turned around and looked at him expectantly. Chris was collapsed on the bed, sweating slightly.
"Wot?"
Chris raised his head to look at him. "Just go to Mum and Dad's room. Get me seven cigarettes. Please?"
John stared at Chris. "Yoah the one who stole Mum's cigarettes the othah day?"
"Just get 'em, John."
"Mum's gonna notice."
"Oy don' care."
John silently walked out of the room and to his parent's room across the hall. He opened the door quietly and stepped inside. He walked up to his mother's dresser and opened the top drawer. He took one pack of the five. He opened the top and took out seven of them and stuffed them under a pair of underwear.
He stepped back into Chris's room and gave them to him.
"Just open the window and give me moy loightah ovah theah," Chris said as if he were out of breath, sticking one of the cigarettes in his mouth.
John grabbed the lighter from the desk and opened the window. He walked back over to Chris and gave him his lighter.
"Can Oy have one?" he asked. Chris looked at him in surprise.
"No, ya can' have one," he snapped.
"Whoy not? Yoah smokin' them."
"Oy wouldn't be a good oldah brothah if Oy let moy seven year old brothah smoke," Chris said, taking a long drag of the cigarette.
John stared at the lighted end. "Is it fun?"
"No."
"Then whoy do ya do it?"
"Just leave me alone, John."
John turned around sharply and walked over to the door. Just as he was about to close it Chris said, "John?"
"Wot NOW?"
"Promise me you won' evah smoke?"
John paused for a minute, surprised by the question. "Oy promise."
"Thanks."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They sat around the kitchen table, eating in an awkward silence. Irene was even silent, sensing the tenseness around her.
"One of moy cigarettes were opened today," Sue said stiffly. Chris kept his head down.
"Are you accusin' me again?" Steve snapped angrily.
"I dunno," she said.
"Well Oy didn't take them. Oy have moy own," he growled, taking a sip of his beer. It was usual that Steve and Sue drank beer at dinner.
"Well, somebody took 'em!"
"Well it wasn't me!"
"Oy took them." A quiet voice said. Nobody heard it but John, who was sitting next to the person that said it. John looked at his food, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore.
"OY SAID OY DIDN'T TAKE THEM!"
"OY BET YOAH LOYIN' YA AWLWAYS DO!"
"Oy took them!" Chris said louder. His parents stopped yelling at each other abruptly and looked at Chris in surprise.
"Chris?" His mother said faintly.
Chris stood up, leaning on the table for support. "Oy took them. Just stop blamin' Dad."
"You took them?"
"Oy just SAID that!" Chris snarled irritably.
"Don't get smart!" Steve warned.
"Oy'm not! Oy jus' said Oy took the cigs! OY was smokin' them! Oy've been smokin' since last year! Just stop foightin' with each othah!"
"How dare you? Yoah only fourteen! Wot tha hell are ya smokin' foah?" His mother yelled at him.
"You an' dad smoked at moy age! Wot's the difference now?" Chris shouted back. John closed could not help but watch. Irene was silent and was staring at them with wide, light blue eyes.
"Yoah not smokin' anymoah! Yoah not goin' anywheah foah a year!" Steve yelled at his son.
"Fuck you!" Chris shouted back.
His father's eyes widened in shock and then his face flushed in anger. He swung his fist at Chris, and Chris toppled over from the strike.
"Bastard! Bastard!" Chris shouted, holding his aching face.
"How dare you!" Steve shouted. "How DARE you say that ta us!"
"Stop!" John shouted from his spot. It terrified him to see Chris lying there on the ground like that.
"Fuck you! You nevah were parents! You awlways smoke and drink, tha's awl you do!" Chris shouted, his eyes brimmed with angry tears.
Sue stepped forward. "Don' you dare! Or OY'LL hit you! Yoah not the son Oy raised!"
"Stop! Just stop foightin'!" John cried from his spot, covering his ears with his hands. It had never gotten this bad before.
Chris pulled himself to his feet with difficulty. "Oy'm goin' ta bed."
They watched as he struggled through the kitchen and heard him climb up the stairs. It was really slow and he was having a lot of difficulty.
John ran from the room, not wanting to take anymore.
Chris never was the same after that.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Yay! A faster update! Chapter's still a bit short though, sorry. Congrats to Dont-eat-chunky-pudding and The Rogue Witch for guessing who took the cigs right. Here's your cookies! *tosses you random kinds of cookies* Enjoy!
Thanks to all who reviewed!
Like it? Hate it? Either way, review!