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Peter Spankoffski had always been scared of Max Jägerman.
When he first met him in 4th grade, it was clear that he had an ego. He'd kick everyone off the playgrounds, sitting atop the webbed metal, declaring himself King of every playground in the school. Pete had tried to climb up one of them once, just once because he thought Max was cool and wanted to be his friend, and then Max had pushed him off.
Pete was never popular with anyone in elementary, but after that, it went from not popular to loser that everyone would bully for the rest of time.
He never tried to be friends with Max again. He avoided him at every nutrition break they had, choosing instead to read a book, or pick at the clovers, or literally anything else that Max and his gang of bullies would find boring enough to leave him alone (it only worked half of the time, but it was better than nothing).
Yet, he made the stupid decision to stand up to him. Maybe it was newfound courage after finally doing one rebellious act in his life, with a cute popular girl that wanted him around, inviting him to a nice restaurant to study together. Maybe it was years of bruises, scabs, and broken glasses that drove him to make a move. Whatever it was that spurred this action didn't matter, because here he was, crying in the Pasquilli's parking lot, his eye stinging from the impact of Max's fist.
Realistically, Pete could go in. He could rip off a piece of his sweater, tie it around his eye, and say he was trying a new style or something. He could enjoy this study session (was it a date? …Better not get his hopes up more than he already has) despite the circumstances.
But Max was right. He was the god of the school. And if he knew that Pete followed through with it, even after his warning, he was going to get more than a black eye the next time he saw him.
Sluggishly, Pete pulls himself up, taking one last look at Pasquilli's through half broken glasses and faded vision. Sorry, Steph.
Walking away from Pasqualli's, the familiar streets of Hatchetfield paint into view. Pete knows the route to home like the back of his hand. Between Ted working late or being god knows where, and Max breaking his phone for the umpteenth time preventing him from getting a ride home, he forced himself to remember so he could always get home without fail, no matter how late.
The streets are sparkling between the high beams of cars driving by and the streetlights glowing softly above his head. There's a cool breeze brushing past his face, revealing just how warm Pete was from his frustration. This was the perfect night they talked about in the shitty romance novels Ted would read to him when he couldn't sleep.
But nothing was ever perfect in Pete's life besides his grades, and so Max came to crush a dream that was never going to come true.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and Pete checks it. There's five messages, three from Steph, and two from Ted.
Steph ❤️
hey pete i grabbed us a booth, figured you wouldnt want to study on the dirty ass chairs (6:45PM)
pete are you almost here??? being late seems like itd literally kill you on the inside (7:03PM)
is everything alright? its been 30 minutes since you said youd be here (7:10PM)
Ted
yo i'm home tonight, things with charlotte fell through, pizzas on the counter (6:43PM)
ohhhh nvm you're out with your girlfriend ;) have fun loser (6:45PM)
Steph wasn't wrong. He was worse than just late, he simply wasn't coming. Ruth always talked about people ghosting her, wallowing about how, in her eyes, it was one of the worst pains you could give to someone who was giving you the light of day.
Pete hadn't really cared at the time. After all, it wasn't like it was pressing information for him to know. No one was really interested in him, besides maybe Ruth, but she liked anyone who would talk to her (he couldn't really blame her for that).
Now he understands why it would suck so bad. Waiting around for someone that you were expecting, just hoping they'd be there, only for them to not show up, not care, not try.
Max may have been a fucking monster, but Pete certainly felt like a fucking asshole leaving Steph behind.
And then there was Ted. Ted who worked, went off with Charlotte, came home and provided just enough, who was annoying and undoubtedly an asshole, but was still his brother, who'd leave food on the table whether Pete was home or not. Ted had been more tired than usual lately, and all he was looking for was a restful evening.
Yet, Pete was here to ruin his night. Again. It was becoming increasingly clear that he was ruining everyone's night the longer he took to get to home, the bruise against his face throbbing with every step. All he had to do was sneak through the front door, run up to his room, and then become invisible.
Approaching his doorstep, he hastily grabbed the door handle, turning it slowly, listening for any creaks the door may have decided to curse him with. Luckily, the door moves silently, and he closes it with a small click.
Peeking into the kitchen, he sees Ted, lazed out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, a pizza slice drooping in his hand as some shitty rom-com plays just loud enough to cover his steps. With a sigh of relief, Pete turns to head upstairs.
Maybe there was some uses to being bullied and knowing how to hide after all.
And then, because his luck is shit and every time he got cocky, as evident by his black eye, ended in disaster, his sock slides on the edge of his wooden steps, and he promptly falls flat on his face.
Man, fuck this day.
The rom-com goes silent, and he hears rustling from the living room. "What the fuck?" Ted's voice echoes through the hallway. "I swear, if our house is haunted, I'm blaming Bill because - uh - fuck Bill or something."
If only Pete was a ghost that could just disappear. That'd make it much easier to avoid this situation, or anything in his unfortunate future.
Clawing at the wood, Pete attempts to pull himself forward up the stairs, but he only manages to make it up one step before he hears what sounds like the baseball bat Ted always has on standby clatter to the floor.
"Pete?" Groaning, Pete holds a weak thumbs-up to Ted, in an attempt to ward him off. Pete isn't stupid though. He feels like shit. He can't imagine what he must look like right now to Ted, a lanky nerd sprawled on the stairs, like a stuck starfish.
"Dude, you look like shit." Rolling him over, Ted comes into view. His eyes are filled with a familiar concern, Pete's least favourite look (besides the 'smug face', where Ted would smirk and look at him with wide eyes every time he was able to out roast him).
Ted is always talking. He yells at every object that wrongs him, mumbles incoherently in his sleep, sings in the shower and responds to stupid radio hosts in the car. Right now, he's completely silent, his eyes caught on Pete's black eye. Hastily, Pete brings his hand to his face.
"Uh…it's nothing. I'm fine, just…punched myself in the face. Yep. That's all." Ted gestures for him to sit up on the stairs, sitting down himself. His brother gives him a knowing look, removing Pete's hand from his face with the shake of his head.
"Who did this to you, Pete?"
"I told you, I'm the one who-"
"Peter, I'm not an idiot. Who hurt you?" His mouth shuts into a firm line. He doesn't want to tell. Everyone knows if you tell on Max Jagerman, he'll always hear. He'll always make your life a living hell, no matter what you do to prevent him from doing so.
Ted puts a hand on his shoulder gently, as if Pete is going to break if he touches him. Running a hand through his hair, Ted sighs. "Pete, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I won't force the answer out of you like Mom would. I know I can be an ass and I make fun of you, because you can be such a fuckin' nerd sometimes, but I'm here for you."
Pete takes a breath. It's Ted. He can't even throw a fist (runs in the family, Pete supposes), but…he trusts his brother.
"Max Jägerman. He…um…I was on the way to go see Steph, and he…he got so mad. And I just don't understand why he can't leave me alone. He's like the king of the fucking school or something, and he doesn't even like Steph, he likes Grace Chasity-" Ted makes a face at that. "But he said he was like…god of the school and that I can't have a relationship with her because he doesn't want me to. I stood up to him like a fucking idiot, called him a bully, he got mad, and then he beat the shit out of me and told me to stay away from Steph or he'd do worse next time."
It's silent for a moment.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Pete. Has he done shit like this before?" Pete is only able to manage a nod. "I swear to god, if I ever see this kid, I'm gonna kick his ass. Like, what the fuck? Who does this fucker think he is, walking around like he owns everything? He's a fuckin' loser, beating you up like that and calling you a nerd." Pete laughs softly at that.
"Didn't you say I was a nerd though?" He asks, giving Ted a pointed look. Ted raises his hands in defense.
"Well yeah, but only I'm allowed to call you a nerd."
"Whatever." Pete rolls his eyes, adverting his gaze to his bruised knuckles from trying to fight Max off before he gave up and got what he deserved.
"Did you let your girlfriend know you weren't gonna make it?" Shit, he still hadn't texted Steph. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, a few more texts pop up on screen.
Steph ❤️
pete, is everything okay? (7:30PM)
if you didnt want to come, it's okay. i wont be mad. (7:40PM)
okay youre not coming (7:42PM)
talk you tomorrow then (7:43PM)
"First off, she's not my girlfriend. And no, I didn't. She was just gonna get worried, or get hurt by Max, so I…I figured it'd be best if I didn't go." It sounded worse when he said it out loud, but someone like Steph didn't deserve to deal with this shit. She was too…important. Perfect.
"Well, you should've at least told her you're not coming, ya goof." Ted's right. But now, it's too late to make things right and if Max knows that he's still talking to her, he'll just get beat up again.
"I guess so." He sighs, tapping his fingers against his phone. Steph would understand, but the more he talks to her, the worst things will be.
Being Peter Spankoffski fucking sucks, from the moment he was born to right fucking now.
"Anyways, do you want help cleaning up your face? Your eye looks like it's a grape trying to turn into a raisin." Part of him wants to say no. That he's eighteen, he's about to graduate, he's applied for university, that he can easily clean himself up. But the other part, the heart of a younger brother, slowly nods his head.
"Thanks, Ted."
"Eh, don't thank me, kiddo. It's just what your good ol brother does for his rascal of a younger brother." Ted smiles cheekily, earning a glare from Pete in return.
"I am not a rascal!"
"Sure, and I'm the queen of England."
As Ted pulls him up to his feet, Pete wraps his arms around him.
"You're a good brother."
Ted says nothing at that, but Pete feels his arms gently laid against his back, holding him tight.
Peter Spankoffski has always been scared of Max Jagerman.
But with Ted, who's still definitely an asshole (but ultimately a good brother) Pete isn't as afraid anymore.