Smells Like Teen Angst (M. Wheeler) REWRITTEN

Ch. 3 | The Pollywog

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

This chapter is far too fucking long because I had so many plans for it that I tried to cram into a word limit—I very much exceeded my word limit. And my patience, because this chapter has been almost done for like a month and a half now. My thumbs and brain just hate me intensely.

But anyways yeah this chapter is long after so it's gonna be split into three parts (probably—definitely at least two). You guys will see a lot of edited scenes and a few added ones too!

Oh, and since I didn't have the heart to publish the stupid scene that comes before this and after the interlude, I just didn't. Sorry, but I really needed to focus on finishing this and that interlude was kicking my ass. So I put it on pause for now. But it'll be explained throughout the story what kind of punishment he received...

That being said:

TW: HEAVILY IMPLIED SEXUAL/CHILD ABUSE ('implied' simply because Dylan is an unreliable narrator)

(I'm so sorry. But clearly not enough)

ENJOY!

•••••••••••••••••••••••

The ride to school was....not comforting.

Billy knew from the minute he got back home from the party that something was wrong with Dylan, no matter how hard the latter tried to suppress it. Not even Neil whipping his back bloody was enough to hide the fact—which was a testimony to just how deeply disturbed Dylan was feeling.

He, of course, pressed Dylan on it, but Dylan refused to talk about it, telling his brother that he just wasn't feeling well because Halloween had overwhelmed his Sense: which wasn't exactly a lie. But it wasn't the whole truth, and of course, Billy picked up on that.

Billy had let it go for the night, considering the state of his back n'all that, as well as the little "mission" Neil had sent them on to fix the problem Dylan more or less created. But he'd tried to bring it up this morning before school.

Thankfully, Neil had inadvertently helped him out by asking Dylan to heal a headache for him; and the soft, almost gentle like way he spoke to Dylan was odd and rare enough to distract Billy from what we currently bothering him.

Actually, now that he thought about it, both Billy AND Max had been looking strangely at him; they'd felt somewhat nervous and perturbed. Dylan had no clue why. Nothing too out of the ordinary had been happening:

Neil sighed in content as Dylan cupped the side of his face (he could do this with a simple touch of one finger, but Neil liked it better when Dylan held his face for some reason), sending soothing feelings to relieve his father of his splitting headache. The man had drunk himself stupid yesterday night after punishing Dylan. Now, as expected, he was heavily hungover—but he still had work at noon, which was why he'd delegated the job of fixing his morning hangovers to his youngest son. It was definitely not he first time he'd gotten wasted on a work night.

Neil hummed again, his long, coarse fingers curling between Dylan's own, resting on his cheek.

"You have a gift from God, my son," he mumbled blearily, half tipsy-half sleepy, and kissed Dylan's palm. Funny his words were, considering when he was sober Neil Hargrove had a propensity of declaring his sons' respective powers were sent "straight from hell", specifically when he was angry with them; so he said the words often.

Nevertheless, Dylan just nodded, his throbbing back pain suggesting that voicing these thoughts would not be a good idea. He made to get off the kitchen counter (Neil told him to sit there, in order to reach his face better. Dylan didn't see the point. Yes, the man was near 6'2, but Dylan's 5'10 frame allowed him to reach his father's face easily. Neil had odd habits though, so he didn't comment on it), but his dad stopped him.