A/N: Sorry guys, it's been a while. I don't have a good excuse, but I'm back now with a bunch of new ideas! First order of business: a huuuuuuuge thanks out to all of my reviewers!!!! You guys rock and it' probably your crazy reviews that keep me writing this thing. I went back and read my first chapter the other day....omg, its really really crappy. I find it really funny that I used to write that horribly. But thank you all for sticking with it anyway! Hopefully this will turn out good. Thanks a bunch!
And now, the moment you've all been waiting for.....a hobbit makes its way onto the screen. ;)
I was past midnight, and Faramir wasn't home yet. And it was a SCHOOL night. His dad was going to kill him. His dad was going to do worse than kill him, actually. He knew it. His dad was going to take away his Xbox. And probably every other privledge on the face of the earth. But he shouldn't care about that kind thing, right? It's not cool. Who cares whether his dad's going to beat him alive and lock him in his room for all eternity. He's going out tonight. With the guys. Just to be cool. All he had to do was be cool.
Right. Like that was going to happen.
"Stop talking to yourself dumbass," he thought to himself. "You sound so pathetic." He walked swiftly down the road, turned down another road, and so on until the roads turned into streets and the streets turned into alleys. The only time he had been to this part of town before was once when he got lost on the way back from the movies, but that hadn't really been a good experience and Faramir didn't want to think about it. He just didn't want to get lost. Because he wasn't lost. Nope. Whatever he was, he wasn't lost.
Oh no. He was.
"Stupid stupid stupid!" he thought rather aggressively to himself. "How could you possible BE this stupid, Faramir?!" He continued to verbally abuse himself until, as if on cue, an eerie, male voice came out of the shadows on his right.
"Are you lost, little boy?"
Faramir spun around in lightning motion, slipped on the rain-washed pavement, and fell onto his tailbone.
"Ease-up graceful, it's just me," said the voice again, but this time accompanied by a smirking face --- a face, Faramir noticed, that was way too pale to be allowed. A gangly boy in his late teens had stepped out from the shadows, eyes lined in black and long, dark, greasy hair falling into his face. He was wearing frayed baggy black jeans and a skin-tight long-sleeved black shirt with a small hole in each sleeve perfect for fitting your thumb through. He had a singular silver chain hanging around his neck and he was wearing a huge gray trench-coat that was too big for him so many ways. In one swift motion, the boy whipped out a cigarette from one of the trench-coat's patched pockets, lit it, and brought it to his lips. He took a drag, and then spoke. "You got what I wanted?"
"Frodo!" said Faramir as he stood up shakily. "God, you scared the shit outta...I didn't notice you were there." His back hurt. His back hurt a lot. He wanted to say something incredibly suave and sarcastic and cool but he couldn't because his back HURT. He tried to focus on the boy in front of him.
"Well obviously I was, genius. But what matters now is...do you have it?" said Frodo more pressingly. He emphasized each word of the last sentence with the waving of his cigarette.
"Yes! I mean, Yeah...Yeah I have it." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small plastic bag. Frodo took it from him quickly and examined the powdery contents.
"Yeah, this'll be good. Looks like you managed not to screw up this time," he said lazily. He put the bag in his inside-pocket. "Did the guy give you any trouble?"
"No," said Faramir. "He just said something about relocating, something about the cops. He said he'd be in touch with you."
"Oooh yes," said Frodo with a creeping smile as he took another long, slow drag of his cigarette. "Don't need to get the cops involved do we?"
"Uhh...nope," said Faramir, unsure. Oh god, he just said "nope". Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.
Frodo gave him an amused look. "You know, I'll have to say I'm fairly surprised that you're doing this for me. I mean, I've always thought you were a bit of a prick. Never would've guessed you'd turn to the dark side, heh." The faint flicker of a grin crossed his face as he looked up at Faramir.
The only thing in the world Faramir wanted to say at that moment was "I am NOT a prick!" but he restrained himself. "Think COOL you idiot," he mentally yelled at himself. "You don't want to be on Frodo's bad side."
"Well, I guess there are a lot of things you don't know about me, then," he finally said, in a voice that was not his own. Wow, that wasn't bad. Frodo walked towards him, his smirk getting even more vivid as he did so. Frodo was much closer now... yes, and even closer. Frodo was definitely invading Faramir's personal bubble now.
"Guess so," said Frodo matter-of-factly as he softly blew a cloud of cigarette smoke directly into Faramir's face. Faramir had barely a split second to wonder wether that really WAS lipstick Frodo was wearing before he started gagging uncontrollably.
"Or, maybe not," Frodo half-said, half-laughed, as he backed away and flicked a strand of hair out of his face. Well, there was no question in Faramir's mind anymore. If he didn't die from embarrassment or second-hand smoking, he would kill himself the SECOND Frodo was gone.
"Listen, I'm heading over to Merry and Pip's place, we got Queen of the Damned rented and Merry got his hands on some vodka. They said you could come...that is, if you're up for it," said Frodo with his ever-present-smirk as he put out his cigarette with the heel of his boot.
"Um," Faramir said, panicking. A movie? Movie's last, like, 2 hours. Its 1am. He can't watch a movie. His dad will kill him. He'll be home by 4 at the earliest and Boromir will know he's been up to something. And he has a history final tomorrow! And he needs sleep because he has a C in history. And what if Eowyn finds out or what if he acts like a complete idiot because he's paranoid and wants to fit in and UNDERAGE DRINKING fuck what if---
"Sure," Faramir hears himself say. "I haven't seen that movie in ages."
"You haven't seen that movie at all," his conscious tells him before he mentally stabs it to death.
"Where've you been this time?" said a nonchalant voice proceeding out from a dark corner of the room.
The lights switched on.
"None of your fucking business, Boromir, go to sleep," snapped Faramir as he shielded his eyes from the light.
"Actually, it is. And I'm not going to sleep, not until you tell me where you've been," said Boromir in his falsely calm tone. Faramir knew this tone well: it meant it would only be a matter of seconds before meltdown, and considering the direction this conversation seemed to be going, maybe a matter of milliseconds. But sadly, Faramir was too drunk to care. He was in a bad mood, he hated the world, he hated his father, and he hated Boromir. But what he really hated was himself --- for being so, freaking. stupid.
"Oh come on Boromir, like you really care," grumbled Faramir as he climbed the rest of the way through the window and staggered towards his bed. "And turn off the light, will you? God, can't you see I'm not up for this right now?"
"Well tough luck, bro," replied Boromir, his temper and volume rising slightly. "'Cause you're going to tell me where you've been, whether you like it or not, or neither of us will get any sleep tonight. I've already been up most the night waiting for you!"
"Well that's not my fault! I never asked you to care!" yelled Faramir, before Boromir hushed him and made a gesture toward their father's bedroom. Faramir added in a hoarse whisper, "Listen man, it's not that big of a deal. Just go to sleep,"
"No I won't. Not until you finally tell me what the hell's wrong with you. You never tell me anything anymore."
"Well maybe there are some things in my life that aren't ANY of your business, hmm? Ever think of that?! What is your problem?" whispered Faramir in a would-be-scream.
There was a pause in which Boromir restrained every fiber of his being from throwing the nearest breakable object directly at Faramir's head. It was a tough feat, but Boromir managed it. Instead, he ended up venting everything that came to his mind.
"Don't you care about anyone other than yourself?! All of a sudden, it's like no one else matters! You never hang out with your old friends anymore, you don't talk to me... And what about Eowyn, you know, you're GIRLFRIEND? She's going through a tough time right now and you don't even care enough to say more than hello! What the hell is your problem?! I don't even think you've exchanged more than two words with Dad in the past month! And all the while I'm making excuses for you and getting you out of trouble, just for you to keep sneaking out and not telling me anything! I'm sick of it! You didn't used to be such a selfish prat, but I guess I don't know you anymore!"
"Well I guess you don't," said Faramir matter-of-factly, trying to end the argument as soon as possible. He flopped himself down on his bed and tried his best to ignore anything Boromir would now say.
In Boromir's point of view, nothing he had just said had come out right. He had rehearsed the conversation during the long hours he waited for Faramir to get home, but as usual, it didn't quite turn out the way he wanted. Well, there was nothing left to do now than ask the obvious. It was useless to beat around the bush, as he had just killed every ounce of subtlety left in the conversation.
"You were out with Frodo and his gang, weren't you?"
Faramir said nothing. Instead, he studied the woven strands of his pillow case.
"I know you were. Eomer said he saw you walking around town with them two nights ago on his way home from work."
Damn. Now he had evidence. Faramir lost focus on the pillow case, but still ignored Boromir with every inch of ignorance left in his selfish prat-like head.
"You haven't been...have you?"
Faramir knew what he meant --- drugs. He gave up his game of just-don't-move-and-maybe-he'll-go-away and truthfully answered "No."
"Why are you hanging out with them then?"
"Maybe because they don't bug me at 4 in the morning with stupid questions about my sanity," he replied sarcastically.
"This isn't funny, Faramir," said Boromir. "I don't want you hanging out with them."
"Well that's too bad for you isn't it."
"I'm warning you Faramir—"
"Oh yeah and what are you going to do? Tell dear old Dad? He doesn't care about me anymore, and I'm not afraid of him either. Besides, you don't even know them," vented Faramir. This was argument was starting to get tedious to him.
"I know what they do and I don't want you hanging out with that crowd." said Boromir, laying down the law. "And Dad does care about you," he added.
"Oh, really? Well he says differently. Anyway, I'm sick of this and I really do want to get to sleep, if you don't MIND, so if you would please get OUT of my room," ordered Faramir.
Boromir saw it was useless to keep going at this, and realized just how tired he was. With one last glare at Faramir, he said "We will talk about this later."
He turned to leave. Faramir followed him to the door, and as soon as he was out, said:
"They're my friends, and I'm going to be friends with whoever I damn well please. There's nothing YOU can do about it."
And then he slammed the door, leaving a very frustrated and confused Boromir standing out in the hallway, wondering what his little brother had turned into. He had to be on something, he would never act like this normally....or would he? Boromir didn't seem to know anything about him anymore. Didn't he understand that he was throwing away his future? What was his problem?!
"You just don't get it," whispered Boromir to the closed door as he trudged down the hall towards his room.
On the other side of the door, a very angry Faramir shut off the light and climbed into bed, thinking about the argument. Who was Boromir to say who he could and couldn't hang out with? What gave him that right? He didn't even know Frodo, or any of the others. And how naïve did he have to be to think that Dad actually cared about him?
"You just don't get it," he said to himself, and then rolled over and tried to sleep off the last few hours of the night.
A/N: No, the hobbits aren't short. Well, they're not tall, but they're not waist height, okay? I just couldn't see that working, lol. Thanks for reading and please review!