Worth the Trouble ✓

prologue

A / N :

Welcome to Worth the Trouble! 

You can read this story as a stand-alone but it is technically a prequel to The Geek Revolution. Basically, if you read this first, please don't comment spoilers in TGR later. Likewise, if you have read TGR first, don't comment spoilers here.

Emotional meltdown comments are allowed and encouraged (I like seeing your reactions, lmao).

Here we go!

Aimee x

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TERRENCE DROPS TO THE GROUND with enough weight to make his teeth sting, echoing the burn on his skin. He's twelve. He's soft in all things—mind, body, soul—and the jagged concrete steps are as merciless and unyielding as his mother when she walks out on their family.

"Mom! Please don't leave!"

The pain ricocheting from Terrence's kneecaps joins the ache in his heart and the burn in his palms. His vision darkens at the edges.

"Please!"

Garrett picks his son up from the concrete and wraps a brawny arm around Terrence's chest, barring him from running after Abigail. Kicking, scratching, writhing, Terrence is in hysterics.

He feels like a little kid again.

He's in middle school now, but he really, really feels like a littler kid. It's like the day he found out Santa Claus wasn't real. He had noticed a price-tag on the firetruck Abigail bought him. That was the worst day of his life. It was like the contents of his brain have been completely sucked out, leaving only empty black space that devours.

Throwing all the force of his body backward, Terrence wrestles out from Garrett's grip. Both legs are in agony, but he only sprints faster across the grass. "Please, Mom!"

Terrence catches Abigail in his gangly arms, wrapping himself tightly around her waist. He's grown taller since his fireman phase, but he remembers the way his nose used to fit perfectly into her belly button. Her suitcases are already packed in her car, but she has one more duffle bag to collect.

"I promise, I— I'll wash all the dishes," Terrence pleads, digging in his heels.

Abigail struggles to walk against the weight of her son, but she tries still, one hand holding her duffle bag and the other in Terrence's hair.

"I'll clean every room in the house. I'll always fold the laundry. I promise. You don't have to do any work around here. Neither does Dad. Then neither of you will be tired."

Both Abigail and Garrett have always been tired. Here, in this house, together, locked in an endless argument that only took an intermission every time they slept. But at least they were tired together.

Abigail turns around. Her duffle drops to the ground, and she crouches until Terrence looks down at her. His hands tremble in hers.

"I'm not just physically tired, Ter Bear."

Ter Bear. No-one's going to call him Ter Bear anymore.

Abigail's eyes water. She remembers a day, six years ago, when her resentment was something more akin to guilt. She'd come home from the office, surprised to see her son waiting in the living room. It was far later than his bedtime; the streets outside were completely devoid of cars, quiet, calm. The only time Abigail felt like she could breathe.