Scurvy
“Dee, where is pap going every Sunday?” Heavy skipped over, holding onto his backpack straps as he slowed down to keep pace with his brother.
“I'm not certain, but I've noticed it.” Dee looked up from his phone to glance at him.
“Ches always drives him, even though he can drive. Do you think something's wrong?” The younger boy looked up, his eyebrows furrowed.
“Maybe it's some kind of appointment.” He shrugged, putting his phone in his pocket.
“Ok, well, yeah. It is that, but an appointment for what?” Heavy did a little spin to jump over a crack. I mean, there weren't a lot of things he would go to once a week, but he didn't know what those things were!
Dee shrugged again, elbowing him. “Your friend is here, I'll talk to you later.”
Heavy slowed down, turning his head. “Oh hey, dude!”
Pippin walked over. “Sounds like your dad has some weird disease, like… scurvy, I dunno.” They were joking, partially.
Heavy watched his feet, trying to make them move in sync. “Scurvy?” He mumbled, his face falling further.
“Yeah, it's from low vitamin C, or pirates. Is your dad a pirate?”
“No.” He looked up, could it be scurvy?
“Oh, hey, by the way. How are you, man?”
“‘M fine, Pippin.” Heavy mumbled, speeding up. For once he actually wanted to get to class on time.
Heavy's head rested on his hand, his eyes fluttered while he made an attempt to pay attention to the teacher. Did it really matter? He put his head down, crossing his arms around him to block out the lights. He shut his eyes, the sound around him slowly faltering until all he could hear was a muffled jumble of what were supposedly words.
“Heavy, head up.”
He groaned, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.
“What will it take me to get you to focus, do I need to call your, um…” She struggled, recalling the incidents in the past when his parents came to the school.
“Never mind, stay awake in my class or I'll get a hold of someone else in your family.” She demanded, turning up her nose and heading back to the front of the class.
Heavy sighed, blowing a piece of hair out of his face. What, were they gonna call Ches to the school? He'd probably care less than his father would about sleeping in class.
“Psst, hey, Heav. Something happen to your dad?”
“Huh?” Heavy came to attention, quickly turning to his classmate.
“Pippin told me.” They whispered, glancing over at him and trying not to bring attention to them.
“Of course he did.” There wasn't much of a surprise, he was sure it'd spread around the school at that rate. Pippin was friends with his friends, meaning they'd tell someone else.
“Get him an orange or something, man.”
Heavy cocked an eyebrow, trying to rack his brain for any explanation to that. Scurvy, low vitamin C.
“Oh!” He nodded, flipping through his notebook and writing it down.
The bell rang and Dee headed out of his class, tucking a book into his bag as he began to walk to the next one.
“Hey, Dee. I'm sorry to hear about your dad.” One of Heavy's friends chimed in as they walked up to keep pace with him.
“What?”
“Oh, did you not know? I'm so sorry.” They cringed at themself, a tinge of guilt hitting as they looked down at their feet.
Dee sighed, running a hand down his face. Did Heavy say something to his friends? “What are you talking about?”
“Pippin said something about yours and Heavy's dad having scurvy, or something.”
“What?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Do you people even know what scurvy is?” He clutched his bag and picked up his pace, hoping to lose them.
They sped up in response. “When was the last time you saw your dad eat citrus?”
Dee wasn't going to entertain this, he sped up, not saying anything.
They stopped in front of their class before shouting. “Think about it!”
He knew his father wasn't missing things from his diet, he watched that like a hawk. He knew there was a more plausible underlying cause to his fathers recent mannerisms.
He walked into his class and sat at his seat, setting out what he needed for it on the desk and waiting.
Heavy's attention to this was almost irritating, it was never something he payed much to before, what was his problem all of a sudden? With the way he was acting it almost brought Dee anxiety, but really, scurvy? He'd sooner have dementia.
The bell rang yet again. School was over, but Heavy was in detention again. He was far too focused on bigger issues than whatever was going on in his classes.
He groaned, wondering if pity would've gotten him out of his predicament. He didn't say anything, not wanting to cause any more disaster than Pippin had already brought.
He was so tired, he didn't even want to play games when he got home, he just wanted to crash into bed and not wake up until dinner.
Maybe he could just shut his eyes, just for a little while.
“Psst, Heavy!” His friend whispered, leaning from their desk.
“What?” Heavy murmured back, glancing to the side to look at them.
“Here.” They rummaged through their bag, pulling out an orange and setting it on Heavy's desk.
He caught it before it rolled off the table, looking over in a stupor.
“What's this for?”
“I heard about your dad, that should help.”
Heavy sighed, he was kind of tired of hearing about only his dad all day. It was making him more paranoid than he already was, plus he wanted a normal conversation, he wanted to talk to his friends about what they normally talked about!
“Thanks.” It was thoughtful, even if he didn't like it. He put the fruit into his bag before turning back and resting his chin in his hand.
“So, what are you doing after school today?”
“Sleeping. Detention is always so boring, I'm yawning!” He whispered, turning to his friend.
“We should start bringing a pillow to school with us.” They joked, trying not to giggle too loud.
Heavy dramatically put his head on his desk and shut his eyes, making exaggerated snores.
The friend chuckled, they pulled out their phone and took a picture, showing it to Heavy.
“Heheheh, shh, shh!”
They goofed off every chance they got, it made Heavy feel a lot better. Once he was let out of detention he had almost forgotten about all the anxiety he'd had.
Almost.
On the way home he was going to stop and play with the cats he usually fed, but then he remembered something his father had said about not messing around for too long if he was walking home alone.
He sighed, walking away from the kitties that meowed as he passed. He pouted, going as far to walk backwards as he brought more and more distance between them. He wanted to pet them, they didn't deserve this!
Eventually he was too far to see them, he turned back around, holding his head low as he approached his home. A noise nearby caused him to run to the door and fumble with the keys, quickly getting inside.
“I’m home!” He shouted, tossing his key on the key hook, evidently missing, having to catch it and jump up to get it on. He ran upstairs, his steps were quiet, he learned to not stomp after a while of his father getting upset about the noise above his office.
He walked into his room and dropped his backpack by the door, slowly dragging his feet to his bed before collapsing into it.
He laid there for a few minutes, almost falling asleep before he remembered the orange in his backpack.
“Damn!” The word was muffled by the sheets, he groaned as he shot up out of bed, he rummaged through his bag and grabbed the orange before slumping down the stairs one step at a time.
Eventually he got to the door to his fathers office.
He knocked. “Paappp..?”
“Not now, Heavy.”
Heavy cracked the door open and peaked his head in, he wasn't busy, he was just sitting there.
That made Heavy get overwrought again.
“I'm not in trouble, and I don't have homework. I just wanted to give you something.” He mumbled as he walked in delicately.
“Hm?” Glam looked up, removing his head from his hand.
Heavy tried not to get a good look at him, he knew if he did it might make him more paranoid. He walked up to the desk and handed the orange to him.
“I thought you might need a snack, you've been busy today.” He waited for his father to take it from his hand, when he felt the colder fingers brush against his own as he took the orange he smiled a little.
“Thank you, Heavy. I appreciate it.” Glam said, his voice a little deeper than he intended. He ran a hand over Heavy's head, then brushing the skin above his eyebrow with his thumb.
Heavy's smile widened, maybe his pap was ok!
“Alright, why don't you go play video games with your brother, ok?” Glam improvised a smile, taking his hand away and fidgeting with the skin of the fruit.
“Ok!” Heavy nodded, walking out of the room without a care in the world.
As the door shut Glam sighed, rolling the orange in circles on his desk, it never left the area of his hand.
The clock went by slowly, Glam was getting tired of alienating himself, but he didn't want to hurt them.
He didn't want to reward himself by playing guitar, either. He felt like a failure of a father, like all his hard work was for nothing. He tried so hard not to do the wrong things, but had he been doing those things the whole time?
“disgracing yourself, disgracing me?”
The words rang through his head and he could feel tears again, he knew he shouted, but all this time he just thought he was being truthful, that that's what he should think and say.
He let the physical abuse take over his head, and overlooked the verbal and mental parts. There were so many words he pushed out of his head, phrases he hid from himself because he was tired of thinking about it, tired of hearing it. Yet, even though he forgot, he was repeating those words. He was making his children feel just as hopeless, just as useless, just as shameful.
He shouldn't think that at all, the fact that he thought that was bad enough. He would hurt them, no matter what, no matter if he wanted to or not.
“He's laughing at me! Holding a grimace of pain, but actually smiling inside!”
He gritted his teeth, it made him so angry. He forgave his father, but it all made him so angry.
He hated feeling like a kid again, he hated simultaneously feeling like his father.
Maybe he could forgive Gustav, but never himself.
By time he checked the clock again there as a knock on the door. Glam was used to those by now, his response was often 'Not now, Heavy. I'm busy.' But it wasn't like he was this time, and since he was called up to the school about Dee recently and not Heavy he really shouldn't make that assumption. He shouldn't assume they've done something wrong either. Plus, Heavy had just come in, why would he come in again?
The cycle can't continue.
"Come in." His voice was weaker than usual, he hadn't talked as much as usual and spending all his time alone in his office wasn't helping, neither were the occasional crying fits.
Dee slowly opened the door, putting his phone in his pocket. "Dad, could you help me with my nails? If you aren't busy." He asked. He studied his fathers face, it wasn't too easy to make out in the low lighting, but Glam looked rough. He seemed to relax a little at the question.
"Oh! Yes, of course. Come here." Glam wiped his face, and put on a gentle smile before turning on the light. He gestured for Dee to come sit in the chair beside him as he opened his desk drawer and pulled out black nail polish, and a nail file.
Dee hesitated when he finally got a good look at him, but he shook it off, suspecting it was just one of those days.
He sat in the chair beside Glam, waiting for him to say something.
Glam took the cap off the nail polish, taking the brush and hovering it above his hand, which he put out to face his son.
“Hand?” He mumbled, with how hyper focused he was on his father he was starting to use the wrong vocabulary. The second he heard that word come out of his mouth he got lost, looking through his son almost immediately.
His brain raced,his ears rang and aside from that all he could hear was his fathers voice.
“Dad?”
It was making him nauseous, it was making him angry.
His hand shook, but the rest of him was still.
He just wanted to get away from him, why couldn't he get away from him? If he's dead then why can't he fucking die?
“Dad!”
Glam blinked, his vision focused and he saw… him? No, that's his son, that's Dee. He was waving a hand in front of his face, his other hand in his own.
“Oh, haha! Sorry, I got a little distracted.” Glam smiled at him, quickly starting to paint his son's nails. Which proved to be a bit difficult, his right hand was still shaking. That's an understatement, his entire right arm was shaking.
At this moment he was just glad he was left-handed.
“By what?” Dee cocked an eyebrow and his lip curled. He watched his father skeptically, he spotted his eyes, they were more dilated than usual, how odd.
“I'm not really sure.” He hummed, trying not to get the polish on the skin around Dee's nail.
“Uh huh.” Dee mumbled, letting his suspicions float.
There were two reasons Dee asked his father to help him: One, he thought it'd be nice to spend time with him. Two, though Heavy was being paranoid, he was right.
Glam had these moments, the short periods of time every once in a while where he acted off. Dee assumed it was due to some sort of disordered reaction, but this time the patterns were different, he just couldn't pinpoint what it was.
“Other one, please.” Glam’s voice cut into his son’s thoughts.
He took his hand away, giving the other to his father.
Neither of them tried to spark conversation, Dee didn't have much to say, Glam had too much to say and no clue how to say it.
Sometimes it was nice to spend time together in silence, simply enjoying the company of the other.
Glam looked up from his son's hand as his own became steady.
He hated to think his actions would hurt him, he hated to know that they were.
Ignorance is bliss, he supposed.
“Thanks, dad.” Dee moved his hands, setting them in his lap as he waited for them to dry.
“Of course.” He replied quickly, clasping his hands together.
Surely he couldn't nitpick if he wasn't doing anything he deemed wrong, right?
He put everything he took out back where they belonged, keeping his space as tidy as he could.
They sat in silence until his nails were dry, Dee stood up, heading for the door.
“Oh, Dee. You have a stray hair again, you should—”
Dee sighed and stopped in the doorway. “Yes, dad. I know, you've said this before, I'm trying to keep it down but it keeps coming back.” He walked out, shutting the door behind him.
As the door shut Glam turned the light off, his smile falling as it clicked.
It was hard not to question himself, he tried to be the perfect father, he thought he made sure he'd never slip up, yet it now seemed that's all he did.
Why was he only understanding it now?
Why was the anger coming back?
Glam squeezed his wrist, his arm shaking beneath his hand.
For the first time in a long time he thought about Gustav's death. Even at the funeral he did not really consider it, no, not in this way.
The feeling to let out his new yet old resentment, the resentment he thought he had left.
Maybe the resentment wasn't his, but his fathers, the resentment he had for his own father that he then held for him, making him a placeholder for the anger. He taught him the way he was taught, through berating and beatings, placing him in his father's old place. All the things he was holding finally having an outlet, something to get rid of the pain, someone to give it to.
Would he do that to his children? Maybe the cycle could only continue.
Maybe there was no way to end it.