smokingmirror | Fanfic: Removed (1/1)

Title: Removed
Author: Avarice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Fox/Collin
Spoilers: general FH
Summary: Collin leaves to spend Christmas with his parents.
Word Count: 1218
Date First Posted: 30-12-2002
Date Revised: 25-05-2011
Beta: Tink.
Awards: -
Notes: Fox POV. Removed and its unofficial companion, Harbor, were written while I was still working on the mammoth All The King's Horses, to help me work through writer's block in different sections. Even after all this time, and even revising them, I only changed some punctuation. I am happy with the flow and the emotion and the subject matter and... eeeverything :) These two fics also garnered me a wealth of really thoughtful and wonderful feedback, and I still thank you guys for caring.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.
Also Archived At: LJ

He stands next to me, bag clenched tightly in his hand. His knuckles are white. His face looks drawn and tight, eyes have darkish circles underneath them, and I know that it's not completely to do with how much we had to drink last night. I know I feel kind of horrible, but that too isn't all because of alcohol consumption.

It's something that has to be done. Collin has to go visit his parents -- and I use the term ‘parents’ loosely -- every once in a while. He gets out of it as often as he can. Fakes exams, extra credit summer uni courses, illness. Whatever works. I help wherever I can. I lie through my fucking teeth on the phone to them. Anything I can do to help.

He somehow got out of visiting during his birthday. Lied his way through Thanksgiving and came with me to my folks' place. But that streak of good fortune couldn't last forever... and he couldn't get out of spending at least a week with them over Christmas.

The season of family and togetherness and love... and he's there because his preacher father wants the nuclear family image for the parish, not because he actually gives a damn about his son.

So that's why we're standing outside our building at 8.51am on a Sunday, waiting for their silver car to roll up. They're picking him up on the dot of 9 o'clock. Never early or late. Always right on time. There aren't many students around, most have gone home or away for the holidays, but there are a few.

I stand with one hand in my pocket watching Collin out of the corner of my eye. He looks determined. Chin out, jaw clenched shut, eyes focused on the street. Determined not to show anyone how much he doesn't want to do what he's about to do.

It would be easier if we could have some contact while he's away, but I don't expect any. Maybe he'll have time to sneak a phone call or something, but the name ‘Maharassa’ doesn't win him any points at their place. I am definitely not a popular boy there. I don't even want to know what was said when they found out he was living on campus with me.

But that's a major credit to Collin. He's stronger and has more backbone than they expected. He doesn't play the servile and spineless son well at all. And not living in their house has been so good for him.

Every time he goes back, though, a little bit of that good work gets undone. They make him doubt himself and his worth, try to break his bones to cram him into that perfect preacher's son mold.

A mold that would kill him to fit into.

I wish to Christ that was an exaggeration, but I know otherwise. I've seen otherwise.

He knows he's always got a haven at my place, with my family. They love him almost as much as I do. But having someone else's parents love you isn't the same as having your own love you.

I sigh and my right hand swings, slowly brushing his left. Somehow our pinkies snag together, by accident or intent, I don't know. His hand curls around my fingers. I squeeze it gently; just trying to tell him something I don't have words for.

He hasn't looked at me in a while, but he turns then. And he doesn't look so strong to me.

"Fuck," he whispers softly and drops his bag. He wraps his arms around my neck and hugs me. I curl mine around his waist immediately, holding him close. I feel more than hear the quiet sob, but there's only one, and I just keep holding him.

We stay like that for a few minutes, before he pulls slightly away, arms still around my neck. His eyes drift to his watch, brows drawing together.

"You should go," he says quietly, slowly taking his arms away from my neck. I don't want to, but it's probably for the best. They arrive any minute, and while nothing would give me greater pleasure than sticking it up them like sitting on an Arizona cactus, or being there in the last moments for Collin, my presence'll only make things worse. It'll just give his mother cause to bitch about me for the entire ride home. And he doesn't need that.

Collin is composed. He bends and picks up his bag and turns to face the street again. There aren't any profound parting words. I hesitate to even touch him again. He's building up his strength once more... I don't ruin it, as much as it's what we both want. I take a step backwards.

"See you soon," is all that I offer.

There's a long pause before he answers, not turning around, "Yeah."

I wince at the voice. There's no inflection, no emotion. Each step that takes me back inside is heavier than the last, and I feel like I have lead in my shoes.

I walk to just inside the building doors and lean against the doorframe. Collin stands, rigid and motionless. Sure enough, the clock strikes nine and their Volkswagen pulls up. I think they wait around the corner just to have that to-the-minute entrance. It really wouldn't surprise me.

Collin walks slowly and deliberately to the car. Three steps away, the tinted glass of the passenger's side winds down automatically. I can't see the passenger, but assume it's his mother. He stands there receiving his first orders of the week. Shoulders tense and his free hand clenches and unclenches in a fist. The trunk pops open, and the window winds up, almost in his face.

He walks to the back of the car and stares at the open trunk. After a moment of deliberation, he slams it closed and opens the back door, throwing his bag into the back seat before getting in himself and shutting the door.

I smirk. He's determined not to take any shit from them. I hope it lasts.

The dark glass of the back window disappears into the door, and I see him sitting there, looking out the window. I step out from the frame and he catches sight of me. We're too far away to see each other very well, but I can see enough.

Right now, I know I have to show him I am strong, too, though I have rarely felt as despondent and as helpless as this.

I give him a quick smile, and hold my hand up to my head, miming a telephone. He nods shortly, meaning he will if he gets the opportunity. And that's okay with me.

The window starts rolling up then, no doubt being controlled by someone in the front seat. I can't see him anymore, but I know he can see me. The car starts pulling away from the curb. I give him a small wave that I know he sees, but it's not long before it's far down the street.

I stay outside until my hands begin to shake, and my throat feels thick and blocked. Thank god for the cold weather, I have something to blame while I impatiently count the days before he comes home.

~finis