Kindred Spirits

Chapter 5

The alarm clock went off at 6:30 sharp, and all Gabriel wanted was to bury himself in his bed and ignore the searing, persistent beeping along with the rest of the outside world. Because he knew what it meant. A new day had begun and a new day meant he had to get out of bed, face his parents, Peter, his tormentors at school… With the exception of Peter, the thought of facing anyone now made Gabriel wanted to start sobbing again. He had cried himself to sleep late last night and the evidence in form of a sore throat, congested sinuses and swollen, red eyes were still very much present. He felt horrible, but trying to convince his parents that he was too sick to go to school would only earn him more grief, so he decided against it.

Slowly he dragged himself up, got dressed, and padded toward the kitchen despite the lump in his chest. Postponing the inevitable would only make things worse.

Gabriel was positive that his mother heard him enter even though she did not look up from her place at the kitchen counter. He wondered if a “good morning, mom” would stimulate any kind of reaction, good or bad, so he uttered the phrase, his voice thick and trembling.

Virginia still did not raise her head, but her grip on the knife she was currently holding tightened noticeably. “Go eat your breakfast, Gabriel,” she said coldly after a moment’s pause.

Gabriel took his seat at the kitchen table, his breakfast already laid out for him. As always, his mother had made him cereal with milk which, by the time he started eating, were soggy and soaked through. He seriously doubted he’d be able to finish his breakfast this morning, the lump in his chest making it almost impossible to swallow. But the fear of angering his mother further made him want to give it a try.

“Where’s dad…?” he asked after a while to break the suffocating silence.

“Still asleep,” Mrs. Gray said curtly. “Your little stunt must have taken its toll on him.”

Gabriel felt sobs starting to break through, and he was forced to spit a mouthful of cereal back onto the plate. “I’m sorry, mom… I never meant to make you angry…”

“Jesus Christ, Gabriel!” Virginia cried out, and the sheer magnitude of her voice, together with the unexpected profanity, made Gabriel twitch and almost spill out his juice. His mother spun around, and this time she was glaring straight at him.

“You disappear without a word and don’t come back all night! What were you thinking?! I called the police, Gabriel! Do you hear me? I reported you as a missing person!”

“W-what…?” Gabriel stuttered, breath hitching in his throat. That the police had been involved was something they had not cared to tell him yesterday.

“What was I supposed to do?! You could’ve been kidnapped for all I knew!” Virginia’s hands moved restlessly over her faded, damp apron, wringing it, then smoothing it out.

“I’m sorry, mom…” Gabriel whispered as tears fell from his eyes.

“I really hope you are,” Virginia hissed. “You should thank me, Gabriel. Your father wanted to beat you up for the trouble you caused. I said I wouldn’t let him touch you. You may be an irresponsible brat, but you’re still my little boy.”

The lump in his chest had wandered up to his throat, and Gabriel found it nearly impossible to breathe. A hand grasped his chin and turned his face up, forcing him to meet his mother’s gaze. There was still much anger present in her eyes, but her love for him burned brighter this time.

“Stop crying, Gabriel. You’re not a child anymore,” Mrs. Gray said, her voice slow and over-explicit, as though she really were talking to a child. Either that or someone feeble-minded. “Instead of hiding behind tears, maybe you should think over what you did and learn from your mistakes.”

Gabriel wished he could simply shut off his tear flow like water from a faucet, but of course that never worked. Tears came easily to him, and he could not change that, either.

Something large and rectangular was placed on the table before him, and Gabriel realized it was his lunchbox. His mother always prepared it for him, and apparently that had not changed.

“Finish your cereal and go get cleaned up,” Mrs. Gray said. “You’ll be late for school.”

Gabriel would have wanted to point out that he didn’t care, but instead he lifted another spoonful of half-molten cereals to his lips and forced himself to swallow them.

*

Peter and Gabriel were supposed to have English – the first class of the day – together, and Peter was expectant to see his boyfriend and find out how things had gone with his parents. He had considered calling him the previous day, but Peter did not want to risk his call being answered by either Mr. or Mrs. Gray.

When the class began at eight AM, Gabriel was nowhere in sight. Peter had trouble concentrating on what Miss Leeds, the English teacher, was saying, and he made a mental note to find a payphone and give Gabriel a call the first thing he did on the next break.

That, however, turned out to be unnecessary. Gabriel entered the classroom approximately half an hour late, his face beet-red from either exertion or embarrassment. Peter grinned, waving eagerly at him, but Gabriel was too wrapped up in his own little chaotic world to even notice Peter.

“Gabriel Gray, as long as I’ve been teaching here, class begins at eight AM sharp,” Miss Leeds said sourly. “I hope you have a good excuse for barging in here at 8:33.”

Gabriel murmured an almost desperate apology, and his face, if possible, got even redder. Peter felt a swell of anger toward the teacher for beating down on the already distraught boy. Couldn’t she see that something was wrong?

Suddenly a high-pitched giggle sounded from one of the girls, and Peter immediately traced it to Trisha Campbell. Trisha was captain of the cheerleading squad and long-term girlfriend of football player and steadfast tormentor of Gabriel’s, Decker Williams. Unfortunately Trisha had the same affinity for picking on those lower on the social ladder as her bully for a boyfriend.

Soon whispers and giggles could be heard from every corner of the classroom. Gabriel, who had not yet been allowed to take a seat, let out a wail that was nothing short of miserable. Peter’s hands balled into fists and he seriously felt like shouting something obscene just to put an end to the painful scene playing out before his eyes. It made his heart ache to watch Gabriel being treated like this.

Finally Miss Leeds dismissed the watchmaker’s son with a casual wave of her hand. Gabriel padded over to the far corner of the classroom and took a seat. He did his best to slump down in his chair, trying so hard to be invisible. Peter was practically counting the seconds until the class was over and he could approach his boyfriend.

*

Gabriel started when a hand grasped his shoulder in the hallway after English class; too many times it had been Decker or one of his cohorts, and his body reacted instinctively by now. This time, however, it was Peter. Relief washed through the taller boy like fresh water from a spring, but even Peter’s presence could not erase the overcoming feeling of hopelessness and despair.

“Gabriel… what happened to you?” Peter inquired, quickly leading them to a more secluded location. The men’s room was nearby, so he decided for it.

Luckily, it was empty for the time being. As soon as they were alone, Gabriel’s carefully maintained façade crumbled and he burst in tears.

“Oh, Peter…” he sobbed, slumping bodily against his boyfriend when Peter enveloped him in his arms. “I don’t know what to do anymore… Everything’s just gone so… wrong, and now they all hate me…”

Peter actually had to struggle to cope with the unexpected weight now resting on him, but he didn’t plan on letting Gabriel know that. “It’s alright…” he murmured reassuringly, all the while keeping a vigilant eye on the door. “Tell me what happened, okay? I’m here, I’m listening.”

Gabriel’s swollen, bloodshot eyes and tear-streaked face had already told Peter that the other had spent many of his recent hours crying. There was also a faint but still-very-present bruise on his right cheek that hardly was the result of a cupboard door handled carelessly.

“M-my parents caught me sneaking in through the window,” Gabriel started, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. “They… My dad, he… Now I’m grounded… for a month.”

“A month?” Peter exclaimed in shock. “They can’t do that!”

“They just did. I’m not allowed to see anyone, not go anywhere… Dad hasn’t even talked to me after this… And mom is… Did you know she’d called the police?”

“Oh God… I’m sorry, Gabriel,” Peter said truthfully. “I feel like this is my fault.”

“No, it’s mine,” Gabriel stated, sighing. “I should have told them I was going out.”
“You didn’t tell them?! But you said they were alright with you being out late!”

“I lied…” Gabriel sniffled, eyes lowered. “I… was afraid you wouldn’t take me out if you’d known, and I didn’t want you to cancel our date…”

“Did you tell them… about where you’d been? About us?” Peter asked carefully.

“No, of course not! Dad said he didn’t even want to know what I’d been doing.”

“Tell me something…” Peter said gravely. “Did your dad beat you up?”

He felt Gabriel’s body stiffen in his arms. “N-not really…” the watchmaker’s son stuttered. “He just slapped me, but…”

“That’s abuse. You shouldn’t tolerate it. Besides you’re too old to be treated like that, anyway. If he hits you again, hit him back!”

Gabriel’s eyes widened in shock. He had never even considered raising a hand to either of his parents, no matter what they did to punish him. The mere thought filled him with revulsion and shame.

“I couldn’t possibly…”

A quick glance at his wristwatch let Peter know that their break was almost over. Damn. They were far from done with this conversation. He led Gabriel over to one of the washbasins. “Wash your face,” he suggested, soothingly rubbing the taller boy’s back. “We have to go back soon.”

Regrettably, they would not be going to the upcoming class together. Peter was off to have geography while Gabriel had chemistry on his schedule. Peter seriously hoped that his boyfriend would be able to hold it together till lunch.

*

The hours until lunch break crept along slower than even for Gabriel, who spent chemistry class and the class following it fighting back tears and nausea. The only bright spot was that Decker did not share either class with him. Neither did Peter, though, and Gabriel craved to see at least one friendly face.

Apparently Peter was just as anxious to find him, Gabriel realized, when he saw the dark-haired boy run toward him in the hallway only thirty seconds or so into lunch break. Peter’s hair was in disarray, bangs covering his eyes and most of his upper face.

Instead of catching Gabriel in a hug and kissing him, as he would have wished, Peter stopped a good foot away and lightly touched his boyfriend’s arm. Personally he didn’t give a rat’s ass if people here knew he was into guys, but he also had Gabriel to consider. Bullies did not need yet another reason to target the poor watchmaker’s son.

“Hey. How are you doing?” Peter asked.

Gabriel shrugged. “Have been better, I suppose… I was waiting to see you.”

Peter smiled. “We have the whole hour. Are you hungry? Wanna go catch a bite?”

“Sure.”

They headed for the school canteen together, not talking much on the way. Gabriel kept fidgeting and busied himself by fingering a thick seam on one of the straps of his backpack. He much rather would have liked to use his hand to hold Peter’s, but he knew that was a very bad idea. People were staring at them already even though they were just walking together.

Peter reacted before Gabriel did. He saw the object swish by in his peripheral vision micro seconds before reaching its target, and he opened his mouth, wanting to shout at Gabriel to dodge. He was too late.

The object – which could now be identified as an American football made of genuine leather – hit an unsuspecting Gabriel clean in the face, and with a choked “ooff” sound, the watchmaker’s son fell flat on his back, the back of his head hitting the floor with a sickening thud.

“Whoohooo! Touchdown!” a gleeful, exhilarated voice called out, and laughter soon began to sound from just about anyone present in the hallway.

Peter, who was now kneeling beside a slightly dazed Gabriel, spun his head in the direction of the approaching football player. Decker was laughing madly at his own “prank”, as though he had just scored first price on the lottery. In his own world, maybe he had. Peter realized that hitting Gabriel’s head from such a distance had required great aim, which was a reason why Decker was the star quarterback on the team.

The realization, however, did nothing to dampen Peter’s sudden blazing fury. Decker had committed a vile act, and there was no way he’d let the stupid, despicable jock get away with it.

“Watcha doing, you four-eyed freak? Did I say you could get up?”

As if his earlier deed hadn’t been enough already, Decker gave Gabriel a hard shove just as the other was trying to rise. Now Peter caught his boyfriend just in time, preventing him from having another intimate encounter with the floor.

“You leave him the fuck alone!” Peter hissed at the bully, arms still around Gabriel’s waist, supporting him. “If you touch him again, I’m gonna knock you down myself. Do you hear me, you stupid quarterback-ass?!”

For a split second Decker looked like he’d already been punched in the face. The sheer ferocity of Peter’s threat took him aback, but the mental paralysis did not last long.

“Do you know who you’re talking to, Petrelli?” he sneered, edging closer to Peter as he simultaneously stretched to his full height of 6’3’’. Decker was used to his size alone being enough to intimidate people, but there was no fear in Peter’s eyes, only rage, which confused him.

“I’ve taken apart guys twice your size in a heartbeat!” Decker continued, poking Peter hard in the chest. “I suggest you watch your mouth, or I’ll show you what we do to little twats that won’t learn their place.”

“You’re going to apologize to Gabriel,” Peter said, his tone making it very clear that it was a statement, not a request.

Decker let out another roar of laughter. “Oh, really? Who’s gonna make me? You?”

“If I must,” Peter replied.

“Peter, come on, don’t make it worse…” a terrified Gabriel pleaded, tugging at his arm, but Peter merely gestured at him to be quiet.

Whatever Decker had thought was comic about the situation earlier was gone now; his face expressed only one emotion, which was aggravation. “What are you getting all bent for, Petrelli? Your “friend” here is just a skank. I thought your family was too proud to hang with trash like him, anyway.”

Peter kept his voice low. “You’re not gonna apologize?”

Decker bent down until he was on eye level with Peter, and then brought his face only inches away from the smaller boy’s. “I’d rather fuck a sheep,” he said crudely.

Peter’s visage did not change, apart from a slight narrowing of the eyes, when he unexpectedly slammed his balled fist into Decker’s face. The football player was caught completely off-guard and staggered back several steps, reflexively pressing a hand to his now bleeding nose.

Men of Decker’s type were something Peter had dealt with before. He was simply one of many big, dumb bullies who continuously used their size to get their will through. His muscles most likely provided him with a false sense of invulnerability, so probably he was not even a very well-trained fighter.

Seconds later, when Decker charged him like a wild bull, just as predicted, Peter swiftly stepped aside and directed a well-aimed kick to the football player’s groin. It folded him in two.

The illicit whispers and giggles around them were quickly replaced by “oohs” and “ahhs” that were a mixture of terror and awe.

Peter acted quickly. He grabbed the kneeling quarterback’s hand and bent his index finger backwards; hard, until the pain there must have been as intense as that in his throbbing genitals. Peter was not a practiced hand-to-hand combatant by any means, but he had been given a few lessons in self-defence by Nathan after his brother returned from serving in the navy.

“By bending back the index finger you can take out any man, no matter how big,” Nathan had told him. “If you stretch out the digital nerve on the front side of the hand…” At this point, Nathan had showed what he meant by demonstrating his grip on Peter, although gently. “…you will also pinch the median and radial nerves on backside, creating stark, instantaneous pain that will also radiate to the acromion nerve in the shoulder.”

Nathan had also taught him many more grips, and although Peter had forgotten most of them by now, this one had, for some reason, stayed with him. He could never have guessed it would come in handy at a place like this.

Peter’s merciless hold drove all thoughts of resistance from Decker’s brain. Tears formed in his eyes, and he sank down even further, wailing, cursing and utterly helpless.

“Let me go! Let me go, you son of a bitch!” he howled, spit and mucus dribbling from his mouth.

Peter merely blinked the sweat from his eyes and reinforced his grip with a second hand. He was completely oblivious of the crowd that had gathered around them to watch the spectacle. Nothing mattered at the moment except to keep Decker down – and to get that apology out of him. Peter was adamant about succeeding in that.

“Say it…” he panted. “I want to hear you say it.”

“What…?!” rasped the incapacitated bully, glaring up at his attacker with eyes hazy from murderous intent.

“I want to hear you apologize to Gabriel. Say it!”

“You fuckin’ bitch, I’m gonna fucking kill you! You hear me, fucking kill you, you”---

Peter endured the crude but childish threats, ground his teeth together, and bent Decker’s finger even further backward, nearing the point of stress the joint could take without breaking. Now the tall boy’s previously handsome face was so distorted by pain and humiliation that he no longer looked human. He started looking more and more like a troll.

“Say it,” Peter repeated, voice steady despite the enormous strain maintaining the grip put on him.

“Okay! Okay!”

“Say ‘Gabriel, I’m sorry for what I did’.”

This time Decker didn’t hesitate a second. “Gabriel, I’m sorry for what I did! Fuckin’ let me go now, Petrelli! God!”

Peter finally released his hold on his victim’s index finger, and Decker collapsed into a heap on the floor, cradling his mauled hand to his chest while sobbing almost hysterically. It was not difficult to conclude that he was down for the count. Probably he would also have to skip football practice for the upcoming few days, until his throwing arm had healed.

“He won’t bother you anymore,” Peter told a slack-jawed Gabriel, who still had trouble believing his own eyes. He was too flabbergasted to even gloat over the bully’s defeat. His most feared tormentor, the mighty Decker Williams who was rumoured never to have lost a fight, had been completely obliterated by Peter Petrelli, his boyfriend, who was tiny in comparison. It had truly been what could only be described as a David and Goliath moment.

“Gabriel?” Peter took both of Gabriel’s hands in his and gently rubbed them, trying to draw the other out of his obvious state of shock. “Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“My head… hurts a little…” the watchmaker’s son got out, and it was true; the ball to his face combined with the fall had left him with a dull headache. Something that was very fortunate was that his glasses had come through unscathed. His parents would not have been able to afford replacing them at this point.

“I’m so sorry… Let’s go see the nurse, okay?” Peter suggested. “I’ll walk you there.” He gave Gabriel a gentle nudge to get him moving, and the crowd immediately scattered to give them room to pass. A few admiring glances were cast in Peter’s direction despite the fact that most eyes were still riveted on the pathetic heap Decker had been reduced into. Some had resumed their giggling, but this time it was not aimed at Gabriel or Peter.

Decker raised his head enough to see the little son of a bitch Petrelli and his freak friend leave the scene. He could not do anything to stop them now; before able to do anything at all, he had to get over the grave damage that Petrelli had inflicted on certain part of his body.

His friend and fellow quarterback, Andy Marsh, got to him after a while, helping him stand up and asking if he was alright, blah, blah, blah… Decker had barely even registered his presence. His thoughts only revolved around one thing – finding the ultimate way to crush Peter Petrelli.

TBC...