Pyro (controlledburn) wrote in genome_project, @ 2010-04-26 23:57:00 |
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Current mood: | melancholy |
Entry tags: | april 2010 |
Who: Sam and his mother, Sarah.
What: Going home is supposed to be the good thing about being away
When: Directly after this
Rating: PG
Status: Completed
Notes: Massive thank you to Willow for NPC'ing the mother!
Apparently his mother was in fact even more paranoid than normal because by the time Sam got home she’d locked the door and his parents hadn’t deigned to give him keys.
Shit, fuck, monkey balls.
Sam breathed out a mouthful of smoke and briefly contemplated leaving, finding somewhere on the beach or hopping the fence at school to sleep on the bleachers before he crushed out the cigarette and turned back to the door.
He was going to regret this, he knew he was.
Sam lifted a hand and knocked on the door. “Mom? Dad? You awake?”
There wasn't an answer for a long time before there were footsteps on the other side of the door, complete with grumbling. Sarah pressed her eye to the peephole on the front door. It was followed by the sound of clicks and latches being undone and slid aside and away.
The door opened just a sliver before she pulled it open, staring at her son on the doorstep. "I didn't think you were coming back," she said bluntly, not moving from the door. She just looked at him flatly. It wasn't even that late, but she was tired. She'd been in bed and it was too much to hope that Victor would get out of bed to answer the door.
Sam had just about given up hope of his parents answering the door when finally there was the sound of locks unclicking.
"Plans changed," Sam said with a small shrug. "Jamie's dad came home, seemed polite to leave so they could talk. You know, bond."
The door hadn't opened any wider than the sliver his mother had first unlocked it. "Can I come in or should I find somewhere else to crash?" Nevermind the fact he shouldn't have to ask because this was his home, his parents, he shouldn't have to ask their permission to come in like some sort of stray.
"Bond?" Sarah asked, eyebrow lifting. The concept was kind of stranger to her. Bonding was something parents did with their children. Biological ones. She and Victor were looking forward to when Sam graduted and left the house. It might sound callous, but keeping up a facade of being parents and a happily married couple was hard and tiresome.
Blowing out a breath, Sarah stepped aside and pulled the door open a little further. She sniffed the air. "You've been smoking. Take off your shoes before you come in."
"Yeah," Sam muttered with a nod of his head. "Bond, I hear it's something people do."
He leaned down and removed his Converse, ducking in past his mother into the large rather cold house that was beautiful inside and out but the mood and the family? The complete opposite.
"So I hear." Sarah said, pushing the door shut and locking it after Sam came in. She just shook her head and leaned against the door, wrinkling her nose when Sam passed her. She took half a step backwards, like that would stop the smell of the cigarette smoke.
She closed her eyes and rubbed her head over her forehead.
Sam breathed out slowly and rubbed at the back of his neck, half thinking about telling her about school and the grade he got, but he stopped himself. She wouldn't care.
"I'm gonna head to bed," he muttered as instead of going up he headed in the direction of the basement. "Thanks for letting me in."
"Samuel," Sarah called behind him, waiting for him to stop. She looked almost like she was going to say 'you're welcome' for a moment but then, no. "I got another call from your school today. Please try and behave yourself. Not even Hobbes will want to take you in with your current attendance record."
Sam's back stiffened and almost immediately he became guarded, defensive, all the things you shouldn't be around your parent.
"Yeah and that would suck," he muttered, a thread of sarcasm entering his voice. "Because God forbid I don't get into Hobbes."
He bit the inside of his mouth, causing his gum to split. "I'll get onto that behaving thing asap."
"Well, good. Thank you." It was short and clipped but it was a 'thank you' nonetheless. She sighed again, long and tired. She didn't know what she was supposed to do with him. What would she do? "Just try harder, Samuel. And don't smoke indoors."
"Sure thing, mom." Sam turned his back and headed down the stairs and into his basement room.
He exhaled a breath and tossed his jacket aside before he sat on the edge of his bed, palms covering his face before his fingers slid into his hair and curled there.
Sam closed his eyes and tapped the tips of fingers against his skull, steering himself through a sudden onslaught of emotion.
God, he hated this place, her, him, everything.
Sam found his Ipod and sat back, placing earphones in both ears as he simply cranked the volume and blasted everything away with loud angry music.
It made being ignored or picked apart so much easier to deal with.