Just like father

Here it is, my first written work in maybe 6 years. It's a Tad Spencer chapter in the 'Young Volcanoes' series, which gives glimpses into the lives of the various students at Bullworth Academy. I hope you all enjoy, let me know what you think!

TWs: Tad refers to the physical abuse he receives at the hands of his father multiple times during the chapter. Please be warned!

It was chilly outside, even for an autumn day. Tad Spencer wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, shivering from the cold. By God, why did I let Gord drag me here, he thought to himself.

His best friend, Gord Vendome, had been dating the greaser Vance Medici for quite some time now, much to the other preppies' chagrin. Everyone with a working brain knew the preppies and greasers were sworn enemies, divided by their class and wealth. The preppies were among the richest people in Bullworth, their fathers ran most of its businesses or were the lawyers defending said businesses when they were inevitably revealed to be exploiting their employees. Meanwhile, the greasers lived in the run-down New Coventry district, riddled with homeless people, graffiti and crime. A place no self-respecting preppy would dare set foot in outside of the occasional turf rumble or spot of vandalism.

And yet, Gord had. And look what he had gotten out of it. After last year's little adventure with Lola Lombardi, one would think Gord had had his fill of poor people. But clearly, he had not. After a particularly grueling fight with his father, who had once again insisted on his son becoming a lawyer while Gord wanted to go into fashion, he had taken a walk around town. Gord and his father had a comparatively good relationship, better than most of the clique had with their fathers, but they constantly bickered over Gord's future. Annoyed and needing to think, his friend had sat down on a bench to ponder, when he was approached by Vance. What had begun as Gord just needing to vent to someone, ended in a reluctant friendship, that then evolved into a relationship. Which is what led to this moment. Gord wanted his friends to be more accepting of his relationship with Vance, like the greasers had – begrudgingly – accepted him. They had not been very forthcoming, however, so Gord had decided to try and convince them one by one. Tad, as Gord's best friend, was first on the list.

They had been drinking coffee at one of the little coffeeshops in the shopping district of Old Bullworth Vale, Gord and Vance merrily chatting away with Tad trying his best to join in on the conversation. It was a Saturday afternoon, but due to the cold, few people were actually out and about. Nobody of note would see Tad spending time with a greaser, so that made him feel like he could relax a little. He had found that Vance was not so bad, but he was afraid they just might not have much in common.

'So, Vance, would you mind telling me a bit about yourself?' Tad asked politely, accent on full display.

'Uh, well, I live with my grandparents. My pa is in jail and my ma ran off when I was four. They're great, so I work at the movie theater to help them out with money 'n stuff.' Vance smiled at Tad warmly, which made Tad uncomfortable. He dealt badly with receiving affection.

'Isn't Vance simply dreamy. He is so incredibly kind,' Gord said, looking at Vance with admiration in his eyes. Tad felt nauseous.

It wasn't as if he didn't want Gord to be happy, mind. He just could do with a little less public display of affection. Then again, Tad might have just been feeling jealous. He didn't have anyone in his life he could show affection to. And even if he had, his father had taught him that there were certain expectations from someone of their status with regards to public behavior. It was poor taste to behave like lovesick schoolgirls when others could see you, that much Tad had learned. Not wanting to think about his father and hypothetical relationships, he decided it would be best to think of an excuse to go. He had enough of greasers and love for one day.

Rising to his feet, he once again wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, flicking a speck of dust off his Aquaberry sweater. 'Why, Gord, Vance, I must go. This was very enjoyable, but I have other things to attend to.' He smiled politely at Vance, leaned in to give Gord a quick hug and started to walk away when he suddenly heard a voice call out. 'Tad, darling, is that you?'

He froze. He recognized the voice as belonging to his mother. Which only meant he was not far behind. He reluctantly turned around to see his mother walk towards him from where she stood in front of the Aquaberry store. Indeed, the man that was his father walked up right behind her. 'Son,' he said simply, giving a small nod.

'Hello, father.' Tad felt all the strength leave his legs. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Gord tense up, looking at the Spencer family, completely on guard. Vance looked confused at his boyfriend's sudden change in behavior.

His mother, ever oblivious to her surroundings, enveloped her son in a hug. 'Tad, dear, it has been so long since I've seen you. Why don't you ever come and visit, we live in the same town!'

'Oh, mother, you know how busy I get. I have been so caught up in my studies.' He tried to ease the tension by waving a hand in the air and trying – and failing – to force a smile. His mother knew very well why he hardly ever came home and why he chose to stay at Harrington House most of the time. She was just very good at pretending otherwise. Tad didn't necessarily think she approved of his father's treatment of her son, but she was as obsessed with the Spencer family image as her husband and so it was easier to pretend nothing ever happened. 'Roughhousing' is what she called it. 'Typical boy behavior.' Once, during an evening event hosted by the Harringtons, her friends asked her how Tad had gotten his most recent black eye. She had told her friends Tad had accidentally caught a baseball in his face during a training session between her 'two boys', neglecting to reveal the actual reason he had a black eye was because his father had learned he had lost a boxing match against his friend Bif. No love was lost between his mother and him, but she treated him with more kindness than his father, and he took the small victories wherever he could find them.

'How are your studies?' his father asked him bluntly, shaking Tad from his thoughts.

'V-very well, father. I am top of my class in English, math and history.' He felt even more nauseous than before. Please, father, let me go.

'So you are not at the top in your other classes?' said his father, ever the pessimist.

Gord chimed in at that. 'He is second-best, Mr Spencer! And he is giving many of our friends a run for their money in the boxing ring!' His father seemed to soften a bit at that. Thank you, Gord. He could kiss his friend for saving him.

Mr Spencer looked at Gord and noticed Vance sitting next to him. He eyed the greaser like he was something nasty he had stepped in. He looked back at his son. 'Very well. Keep up the work, son. You know I will not tolerate failure. And you and Gord might need to reconsider who you are spending time with. It would not do for us to be associated with the vermin from the wrong part of town.' His eyes contained an icy glare. Tad whimpered. He was still shaking, but no longer from the cold. That was a threat, and he had better believe his father would act on it.

'I will, father, thank you.' He would have to apologize to Vance later, but right now he needed to get out of this conversation without angering his father.

'That's my darling boy! So much like his father, ever the go-getter!' his mother said. The color drained from his face, hearing that final comment. She gave him one last hug, before she and his father walked off. Tad had seen her move in to hug him, at least. But he had not felt it. He felt nothing.

As soon as his parents had turned the corner, Tad's face fell. He began breathing heavily. Like my father. She said I am like my father. His mother's remark kept spinning in his head. He faintly noticed Gord grabbing his hand, trying to make contact with him. Tad stepped away, flinching, and instinctively covered his face with his hands. 'No!'

'Tad? Are you with us?' Gord spoke calmly, kindly. Vance, known for being the biggest empath among the greasers even outside his own clique, had caught on what was going on and tried to move towards him. Tad could not have that. He could not let anyone get close to him.

'I-I… I must go. Yes, I have to… Yes, go.' He could barely form coherent sentences. He turned around and walked away quickly, ignoring Gord and Vance calling his name. He needed to go home. To safety.

The walk to Harrington House was short at the tempo Tad walked, but he wouldn't have noticed. His mind was racing.

Like my father. I am like my father. My mother said I'm like father. I am like father. It was a mantra. Memories flashed before his eyes, vivid as if they had happened yesterday. His father stood before him, knuckles bloodied. Tad was on the floor, nose bleeding and left eye throbbing. Tad could not tell what had happened before, so many nights were spent the exact same way that he had trouble remembering all the details of every incident. 'Daddy, please!' he remembered pleading. His mother was crying at the dinner table. 'Are you telling me I deserve what is happening to me, son? What do you know about the business I run? You foul, miserable, little shit.' A kick, Tad struggling to get up, another punch in the jaw. Cries of 'daddy!', sobs from his mother, growls from his father. Like my father. I am like my father.

By the time he reached Harrington House, silent tears were streaming down his face. He brushed right past Parker and Justin, who turned to greet him but fell silent upon seeing his expression. He ignored Derby calling for him from the sofa and walked up the stairs to his room. His safehouse. He spent all of his nights here in this room. He did not dare go home if he didn't need to, while his assigned dorm room was filthy and one he had to share with Casey from the football team, a big oaf of a guy that had no concept of what it meant to be clean. His room was his safe haven. In it, he did not need to be anyone other than Tad. He could drop the accent, he could be free from the expectations of his peers. He did not have to pretend to be old money, he could enjoy partaking in hobbies that were not fit for someone of his status. Most of all, he was safe from his father.

He locked his door and paced back and forth, hands in his hair. Like my father. I am like my father. He looked at himself in the mirror. He had his father's eyes. His hair color. His small build. I am like my father.

His mother had been right. He remembered the last time he was in a fight. It was against a greaser, Ricky or Lefty or whoever. He had been so filled with rage. He had been punching, kicking, whatever it took to take his opponent down. He had seen red. It had felt like he needed to go the extra mile to ensure his survival. Like this fight was a matter of life and death. When he had regained his senses, the greaser was completely knocked out on the ground. His face bloodied and bruised. He had not looked unlike Tad himself usually did after facing his father's wrath. That proved what his mother was saying. He was like his father. Just as violent and full of hatred. No regard for the lives of others. Did not blink at the thought of beating someone into submission.

He was going to be sick. He ran over to his sink and threw up. I am like my father. Wiping his mouth with a sleeve, he leaned against the wall and slid down, pulling up his knees under his chin and rocking back and forth. I am just as violent as he is. When I have kids, will I be the same? I have hurt people, too. He was terrified of his father, and he was convinced his children would be terrified of him. He had beaten that greaser to a pulp. Who's to say that wouldn't happen again? He cried softly. He could not block out his thoughts. I am like my father.

He did not know how long he had been sitting in the corner of his room, rocking back and forth, completely consumed by his thoughts. But he looked up at the door when he heard a soft knock. That was Gord's knock. He had a knock he only used when knocking on Tad's door. When he didn't want to see other people and wanted to be left alone, he would know it was his friend outside, and he could decide whether he would let Gord in or not. That way, he wouldn't accidentally open the door to his other friends and be forced to think up an excuse to lock them back out. 'Tad? Are you in there?' he heard Gord's voice.

'Y-yes,' he replied faintly.

'May I come in?'

Tad nodded silently, then said 'yes' when he realized Gord could not see him.

The door opened slowly and in walked Gord. With Vance. Tad did not need that. Vance could not see him like this, hiding in the corner, curled up like a child, crying. The greasers would surely find out and that would ruin his reputation. That would definitely anger his father. 'Gord, for the love of God, can't you go somewhere without him for once?' He sounded more angry than he had intended. I am like my father.

Gord ignored the remark, walked to Tad and knelt in front of his friend, grabbing his hand and stroking it softly. That seemed to calm him down a bit. 'He insisted on coming, Tad. He told me he knew of a way to help.'

He looked up at Vance, eyes red from crying. The greaser looked at him. Not with pity or condescension, like he expected, but with understanding. He let Gord drag him to his feet. 'H-How?'

'Mio dio, Tad, I told ya my pa was in jail. I know a thing or two about dads not being dads. I hated hearing my nonna say I looked like my pa. I am nothing like him. But I didn't believe that for a long time. C'mere.' He took Tad's hand and walked him in front of the mirror.

Tad didn't want to look. 'Please don't make me.' But Vance was unrelenting. He gently guided Tad's face towards the mirror with a finger under his chin. 'Look.'

Tad once again looked into his father's angry eyes. 'I look like my father. You have seen the man, you can tell.' He felt sick again.

'Do you? I don't think so. Look again.' Tad did so hesitantly. Vance put a hand on his shoulder. 'Ya might think ya look like your pa, but I don't see it. Look at your eyes. I only ever seen your pa once, but his eyes were cold, Tad. I almost wanna say evil. You don't look evil. You are warm.'

Tad kept looking at himself. He focused on the eyes in his reflection and slowly but surely, his father's icy, unrelenting glare turned into Tad's own red, swollen eyes. Aside from the obvious fact he had been crying, his eyes did look a little warmer. Maybe Vance was right. The color slowly returned to his face and he got a bit of strength in his legs back. I am not like my father, I don't look like him. He turned away. 'Thank you, Vance.'

Vance grinned. 'Anytime. A buddy o' Gord's a buddy o' mine. The next time someone tells you that you look like your pa, look at yourself in the mirror and focus on the way you two are different. Ya will start to believe it at some point. Ya hafta trust me.'

Gord, feeling it was time to insert himself back into the conversation, walked up to Tad and hugged him tightly. 'I am so, so sorry, Tad.' They both knew Gord wasn't the one that needed to apologize, but he appreciated his friends words nonetheless. Gord always made him feel safe. And Vance's words rang true. It was sage advice.

'Maybe Vance isn't so bad,' Tad said, smiling. 'You are kinder than most of your friends.' Vance blushed at the compliment.

Gord looked uneasy. 'I am glad you think so, because we might need your help smoothing things over. We kind of rushed past them to get here, but Derby and the other chaps aren't too keen on having a greaser in Harrington House.' Vance rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

Tad chuckled. He still felt a spot of disgust when he glanced back into the mirror. Fear of his father, of being like his father, was something that he would carry with him for the rest of his life. But he recognized more of himself in his reflection. Maybe, with time, he would start to see Tad. Until then, he was glad to have Gord by his side. And he might have made a new friend as well. Vance wasn't a bad guy. In the end, they had more in common than Tad thought.

Tad remained at Harrington House the rest of the day, in his safe space, with Gord. They had gotten Vance out via the window and apologized with a little white lie to Derby, who luckily didn't press any further. They talked about Gord's latest plan to get into fashion school without his father finding out, and watched one of the many musicals they had bought together over the years. Little by little, Tad felt better. Gord stayed with him in his room until Tad fell asleep. That night, Tad Spencer went to sleep without bruises, without fear, and a calm smile at his lips.