Comfortably Predictable (Wren)

[Dante Russo]

Dante fell heavily into the couch in front of the television. Classes always left him feeling drained. Reading things all day was hard, and then they expected him to do homework. He was seriously considering going back to cheating, but then he remembered that the teachers here actually paid attention. It wasn't like going to an overpopulated, underfunded city school. Cheaters were caught and punished here. Although, he wasn't sure he could be expelled from this place, so... detention forever didn't seem so bad if it meant he didn't have to waste his time and energy reading shit he didn't care to read.

Really, if he was going to put forth the effort, he wanted to read subjects he cared about. History? No thanks. Chaos theory? Hells yes. Unfortunatly, with a full load of classes that required him to read an ass load of pointless crap, he rarely had the extra brain power to explore the the things that actually interested him. He was sure there was a whole range of facinating science, but he didn't even have the time to discover what that might be, let alone the energy to study it once he found it.

Whatever. Right now, it was the time of day where he vegged out in the student lounge, watching television and wishing that people were better at writing television. Any moment now, Wren would come in and Dante would shove his bag off the cussion next to him so the guy could sit down. It was a comfortable pattern they seem to have fallen into. They didn't have many deep, intriguing conversations, but Dante welcomed the boy's company. Wren was.. steady. Consistant. And that was nice, since Dante's internal diolague was often in conflict with itself.

[Wren O'Hara]

Wren ambled down the stairs and into the student lounge, as he did almost every weekday after English class. He had it down to a science; if he walked at a comfortable pace from the classroom to the downstairs common area, he missed most of the foot traffic that resulted from the underclassmen changing classes. It was also the perfect time to go for the television, because it was the period that most people took electives, although Wren took Advanced P.E. which wasn’t until later in the afternoon.

It was a solid, predictable system, and he enjoyed that.

He had also come to enjoy finding Dante there when he arrived, because it meant that he had someone to listen to. He didn’t do a lot of talking, but that was okay, because he’d come to find that Dante had a lot more to talk about than he did, anyway.

It had progressed to the point where, if Wren didn’t see Dante at the usual times, he wondered if something was wrong. It might have been a little weird, he conceded, because it wasn’t like they were best friends or anything, but all the collective listening he’d done made him feel like he was entitled to worry, at least a little bit.

He didn’t have any worrying to do today, though, because Dante was there as per the norm. Wren let his bag slide off of his shoulder and land beside his side of the couch.

“Hey,” he said, smiling a small smile. He waited for Dante’s bag to be moved before he plopped down beside the other boy. “What’s up?” he asked. He studied the television. “Anything good on?”

[Dante Russo]

"Ha," Dante gave a dry laugh, "you're funny. There's reruns of Cupcake Wars, Friends, Dance Moms, and an ass-load of other pointless bullshit. You are missing exactly nothing." Dante rolled his eyes as he pulled his bag between his feet. At the moment, the television was set to a rerun of 30Rock, which was at least still chuckle-worthy after the third time you've seen it (in Dante's opinion anyway).

As it was though, he was just staring blankly at the screen, an occasional smile twisting the corners of his mouth instead of actual laughter when something funny happened. He seemed to be falling back into his usual state of grump. He was hoping that the impromptu drug trip would leave a more lasting effect, but he always felt that way.

"Ugh," Dante scoffed at the television when it went to commercial. Apparently it was already time for Walmart's holiday promotion. "Already? Can you believe this shit? It's November for Christ sake. Are people seriously Christmas shopping already?" He let out a long sigh. "I hate the holidays."

[Wren O'Hara]

Wren offered an amused snort as Dante ran through the list of available programming. His sister loved Cupcake Wars, and he’d had more than his fair share of conversations about baked goods simply talking to her on the phone on occasion.

Plus, it would make him hungry, and he was still constantly struggling not to scarf all of his Halloween candy in a single sitting.

“Sounds great,” he said with a dose of good-natured sarcasm. He settled in and they sat in silence for a little while, watching 30Rock and not saying much of anything. It was the kind of silence Wren didn’t like to break – he didn’t want to be that guy – so he huffed out a couple of chuckles instead.

When he got the jokes, anyway. He had good intentions, but it couldn’t fairly be said that he was quick on the uptake. Anyway, it didn’t matter…

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Wren said, turning his attention to the holiday-themed Walmart commercial that Dante had scoffed at. “They start right after Halloween now. It’s nuts.”

He felt something scraping at the back of his mind, reminding him that he was forgetting something important. He took a couple beats of silence to think about it, and then his eyes widened briefly as the thought came back to him. He made a small noise of recognition of the fact, like a quiet, stupid man’s version of eureka.

It was at the same time Dante announced that he hated the holidays, which gave Wren a moment of pause.

“So you don’t have any plans or anything?” he asked conversationally.

[Dante Russo]

"Hell naw," Dante said, wrinkling his nose and glancing over at Wren. "Dude, where would I go?" As far as Dante knew, Rebecca was still in jail (not that he'd visit her anyway), and things were less rocky with Jo Jo, but his family wasn't exactly rolling in it either. They couldn't afford to get him back to New York, and if they could, they certainly couldn't afford another mouth to feed.

Besides, Dante wasn't the festive type. He didn't get into the whole holiday spirit bull crap. He was always extra crabby on days of the year when everyone was supposed to be having a good time. He even hated his own birthday. The nightmares were always extra horrible on special days, mostly because Rebecca's behavior got especially erratic around holidays. She wanted so badly to make everything perfect. She tried, and if even one little thing went wrong, the whole occasion was ruined. She flew into a state that alternated between violent rage and crippeling hysteria. Dante usually broke down and comforted her in the only way he knew was sure to work-- and it made his stomach tighten whenever he was reminded of it. Oh and it wasn't just the day itself, it was the whole season. Rebecca got really bent about being happy, and the fact that she wasn't made her explosive.

Anyway, why the hell was Wren asking about his plans? Sometimes Dante couldn't tell if the dude was leading up to something, or just trying to make conversation. He sort of had the same tone for both, but Dante wasn't sure where he would be going with this one. Maybe Wren didn't have anyplace to go either? No, that didn't make sense. As far as Dante knew, Wren's family was like.. an actual family. With money and everything.

"Why?" Dante looked over at Wren with a mild why-the-hell-do-you-care expression on his face.

[Wren O'Hara]

Wren noted the look on Dante’s face; he couldn’t tell whether it was apprehension or indignation, but it made him sheepish all the same. He cleared his throat and shrugged, turning his gaze back to the television.

“My family does this thing every Christmas where we go to Panama City Beach,” he explained, trying to sound neutral about it. “In Florida, I mean. They always tell me I can bring a friend or whatever, but I never have, ‘cause everybody usually has plans.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Anyway, it just reminded me of it,” he said, pointing to the TV. “I was gonna ask you earlier, but I forgot.”

He looked over, then, trying to gauge Dante’s reaction.

[Dante Russo]

Oh. Oh! Dante blinked, clearly taken off guard. "Really?" The last thing he was expecting was an invitation to spend Christmas with Wren's family. That just seemed odd. Granted, Dante had a pretty low opinion of himself, but he was sure he wasn't the kind of guy you took to family gatherings. Dante's better judgment told him he shouldn't go. It was just asking for trouble. He was the guy that good kids' parents warned them about, and Dante didn't exactly rellish the idea of being the poor kid from the slums amoung a gathering of upper-middle class bitches. He was already imagening the looks of thinly veiled shock and disgust when he inevitably said "fuck" at the dinner table.

Dante blinked a few more times, taking several beats longer to answer than was probably comfortable for Wren. He wanted to decline the offer, but Wren was giving him puppy-face. Ever since that day when Wern walked in on he and Charlie tripping balls, Dante had been acutely aware of the fact that Wren was pretty damn attractive. It made it really hard to say "no" to the puppy-face.

"I.. yeah. Ok. I got shit else to do." Dante felt his chest tighten even as the words were coming out of his mouth. Jesus Christ, he was actually going to celebrate Christmas this year. He hadn't done that since he ran away from home. The past two years, he'd just ignored the fact that holidays were a thing. It was just a break in school, during which people liked visit home. He treated Christmas the way most people treated non-christian holidays, "oh, that's today?"

[Wren O'Hara]

“Yeah,” Wren said, confused by Dante’s surprise. They were friends, right? “I mean, it’s cool if you don’t want to,” he added, politely.

He knew vaguely about Dante’s family situation, but only vaguely – it was a sensitive topic, he’d sensed, and Wren wasn’t the type to pry. Really, though, he probably knew more about Dante than Dante knew about him, if they were keeping score; maybe that was the cause for surprise.

He watched his friend carefully, oblivious to his internal struggle. He did, however, crack a smile at his phrasing. In any case, it was a yes.

“Awesome,” Wren said with conviction. “It got so boring last year. I think I watched It’s a Wonderful Life on hotel cable, like, four times.”

His mood had improved considerably, although he had another jerk of remembrance. He really had to stop that; he was going to pull something.

“You don’t mind flying, right?” he asked. “I usually catch a ride to the airport and meet them there; they won’t be picking us up or anything.”

[Dante Russo]

"I wouldn't know. Never been on an airplane," Dante said with a shrug. He chewed the inside of his mouth for a moment. "But I don't have any deep seeded fears of plumiting from the sky, so I think I'm good." His eyes wandered back to the television and his face went back to neutral.

"I hate that movie, by the way," he said, "they made us watch it in school once-- the teachers at my old school pretty much check out right before christmas break. I hate that movie, and the grinch one with what's his nuts.. Jim Carrey." He turned his head to look at Wren again. "Please tell me your family doesn't marathon bad Christmas movies... unless you happen to know a guy in Florida who sells weed, and you don't mind fronting me twenty bucks or so." He gave a short chuckle and looked back at the television.

"Um.. how big is your family, anyway?" Dante shot Wren a sideways glance, "oh, and do you have a drunk uncle who'll spike my eggnog?" He smiled a little at that one. He wasn't joking.

[Wren O'Hara]

Wren nodded his understanding and hoped quietly to himself that Dante didn’t get airsick.

“It is a pretty shitty movie,” he mused, letting a rare curse slip without thinking about it. “Don’t think I ever saw the Jim Carrey one, though. Seen the animated one a zillion times.”

He rubbed at his chin absently, lost in thought about Christmas movies for a good thirty seconds. He looked at Dante, then, and laughed a little.

“Nah, they don’t,” he said, trying to be reassuring. “It stormed last year, so we were stuck inside for, like, two days. And my mom had the remote the whole time.”

He grimaced at the ceiling, as though it were somehow at fault.

“I usually hang out at the beach or whatever, but I don’t swim a lot because it’s full of… you know, regular people that would probably get freaked out,” he finished, a little awkwardly. “But it’s generally pretty warm, even at Christmas, so you can find stuff to do.”

He paused as Dante mentioned weed, and he gave the other boy a serious look.

“I don’t know anybody, but my mom probably does,” he said plainly. “Not that she’s, like… you know,” he added, laughing. “Uh, she generally just makes brownies out of it. And only when she meditates,” he finished, decisively.

There was yet another pause, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. He sure was talking an awful lot; he wondered if it was too much, and was grateful when Dante said something, instead.

“Not really big,” he murmured. “Just my mom, my dad, my sister, and my sister’s boyfriend, and my niece,” he explained, counting on his fingers as he went. “No drunk uncles, though, sorry,” he said with an apologetic half-laugh.

[Dante Russo]

Dante nodded, eyes returning to the TV. He suppressed a sigh. Three girls, and zero drunk uncles. Probably just as well. Dante got a little aggressive when he drank, and he was already worried about his mental state around Wren’s family. Not necessarily because he cared so much about other people, but he didn’t dig the idea of pissing everyone off and being stuck in a hotel with them for however long this vacation was.

And.. maybe.. he cared a little bit about Wren’s feelings. At any rate, he enjoyed Wren’s presence, and if he managed to single-handedly fuck up Christmas, he wasn’t sure if Wren would continue to put up with him. Wren had no idea how messed up in the head Dante was. Sure, he dropped hints every once in a while about how awful his mother was, and how much life sucked balls before he came to Hammel, but Dante didn’t like to bring up the fact that he had full on flashbacks about Rebecca. And he hadn’t had one in front of Wren yet. Although, even if he had, he probably would have just excused himself and taken his freak-out elsewhere. Dante was private like that. Also, the flashbacks usually came with a strong reminder that ”boys don’t cry!” so in general if he was going to fall apart at the seams he preferred that everybody fuck off.

Dante chewed on his bottom lip, eyes glued to the television and not really seeing it. It occurred to him, after a moment, that he’d just suddenly stopped talking. Not that it was unusual for them to sit together in silence, but usually the conversation came to a natural stopping point first. There were still a lot of things Dante could say about Wren’s mother baking pot brownies, and it was a little odd that he hadn’t yet. At the very least, he should appear amused. Instead, he was staring at the TV, chewing his lip and furrowing his brow.

He was quietly having a small anxiety attack.

What if he spent the whole vacation having flashbacks? It was certainly a possibility. He had flashbacks when there wasn’t something directly reminding him of what happened. Dante assumed that ignoring Christmas was going to be pretty much impossible at the O’Hara Family Christmas Gathering.

Dante pulled in a slow breath, realizing that he’d stopped breathing for a moment. He needed to breath and stop thinking so much, or he was going to accidentally trigger himself right now. No reason to get all anxious about something that wasn’t happening yet. Of course, that was much easier said than done.

[Wren O'Hara]

Wren wondered for a moment if he’d said something that had prompted the unusually long silence, but a quick glance at Dante’s face told him that the other boy didn’t look mad, really, just a little… vacant. He waited a few more seconds before he interjected again. In contrast to the other kind of silence, this was the kind that Wren didn’t mind breaking.

“You okay?” he asked offhandedly. He turned his gaze back to the TV too, then, for lack of anything else to comfortably look at.

“Uh, anyway,” Wren pressed on, although his rare period of loquaciousness was over in the wake of Dante’s change in demeanor. “It’s from the 20th to the 25th. I’ll tell dad to send your plane ticket.”

He still had the nagging feeling that there was something he had missed, but he wasn’t a telepath – he just turned invisible in water. He slouched further down into his couch cushion and watched Liz Lemon deliver a probably well-written punchline that had gone totally over his head.

[Dante Russo]

“Yeah, fine,” Dante said shortly when Wren asked if he was okay. He was lying, but Wren rarely seemed to notice when Dante lied straight to his face. Not that Dante was a pathological liar or anything like that. His lies were mostly along the lines of ”I already ate,” or, ”nothing’s wrong.” Although, the necessity to lie would probably increase during this vacation he was apparently taking.

Dante nodded silently, contemplating the length of five days with Wren’s family… doing Christmas stuff. He should really stop thinking. Just watch the damn TV! Dante blinked several times then stared hard at the television, willing himself to pay attention to it. He “hmm”ed quietly at the well-written punchline, but the corners of his mouth barely hinted toward a smile.

Suddenly he leaned forward, grabbing his bag and slipping the strap over his shoulder as he stood. “I need a cigarette,” he said, turning toward the door, “c’mon.” Dante had also gotten into the habit of dragging Wren outside when he wanted to smoke. He didn’t actually enjoy isolation, even though he did a good job of pushing people away most of the time. Since Wren had apparently decided they were friends, Dante had no problems just ordering him around sometimes. He didn’t care if it was freezing outside, he was going to make Wren stand there in the cold while he lit up.

Besides, Dante was more likely to actually admit something was bothering him while he was smoking. There was a certain amount of comfort in the activity itself. It gave him something to do with his hands, and something to do with his mouth, and it focused him on breathing. Oh, and nicotine calmed the anxiety as well.

[Wren O'Hara]

Wren noted the shortness in Dante’s tone, but he still didn’t understand it, and so couldn’t make any definite judgments about the situation either way. If the other boy said he was fine, Wren wasn’t going to argue with him. It was a lot of effort, and besides, Dante had a habit of telling Wren what he needed to know, eventually.

If Wren had excess of any one thing, other than muscles, it was patience.

He slid a little further down into the couch cushion so that his broad shoulders were nearly parallel to it. Dante beckoned him outside for a smoke, then, and Wren perked up a little bit.

Not that Wren smoked, or anything. It was a terrible habit, obviously, and picking it up would no doubt ruin his stamina. Smokers didn’t swim ten kilometer marathons in open water.

Fortunately, Dante wasn’t a swimmer, and Wren surely wasn’t going to stay on the couch watching 30Rock by himself.

He followed the shorter boy outside through the nearest exit and stood rather stoically against the brick wall of the building. It had snowed on Monday, the first snow of what was sure to be a long and bitterly cold Vermont winter. Wren surveyed the white-dusted campus and stuffed his hands into his pocket, waiting for the familiar sound of the lighter being struck without watching.

[Dante Russo]

Dante didn’t speak as he led them to his usual spot behind the building. There was a definite air of grump coming off of him, and he all but ignored Wren as he dug through his bag for his cigarettes and lighter. He was already shivering by the time the cigarette was between his lips, and his hands shook as he tried to light it.

He sparked the lighter once, unsuccessfully. Then twice. Then three times. Dante cursed. The flame had flickered for a split second, but the subtle breeze put it out. Dante turned toward the wall, trying to block the wind but the lighter still wasn’t cooperating. With a frustrated huff, Dante shook the lighter, trying to soak the wick with (what he assumed) was the meager amount of fluid left in it.

“Goddamn it!” he swore, frustrated, and pressed his forehead against the brick. He let out an aggravated sigh. He really needed a fucking smoke right now! “I don’t suppose you have a lighter on you?” He sent a sideways glare at Wren. He wasn’t mad at Wren, he was just mad in general and tended to glare at whoever was around.

Dante kicked the wall a couple times with the toe of his shoe (not too hard because his feet were ice cold and that hurt). “Aaarg,” he groaned, frustration practically dripping from his voice.