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strangerthings4theories · 2 years

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Dreams - A Billy + Billy's Mother Fic

He's sitting at the kitchen table coloring with crayons. He remembers that table well - white tile with wood trim. The spaces between the tiles left streaks in his drawings if he wasn't careful. Usually he stuck a book under the paper, like the one he has now. The name of the book peeks over the edge of the paper: Wildflowers of California.

It's a rainy Sunday afternoon. The smell of Mom's lavender bushes wafts in through the window, and Neil is gone. Left to run an errand or something. Billy doesn't remember, and he doesn't care. Back then, all that mattered was the light that filled the house when that man left.

As Billy's crayons whisper over the paper, a radiant presence slips into the kitchen behind him. Mom. Following the script, he glances at her.

She looks beautiful today. Then again, she always did. She's wearing jeans and her plum-colored shirt with three-quarter sleeves. Hoops dangle from her ears, and her golden hair streams down her back. She's holding a record album with a white and brown cover. Winking at him, she moves to the turntable by the wall, pulls the record out of its sleeve, and puts it on.

The soft, easy beat of Fleetwood Mac fills the kitchen. Here, dream diverges from memory: the record isn't playing the first song, but the second.

Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom…

Mom goes still, closing her eyes like the music’s reaching into her soul. She even frowns a bit as she taps her hand against her jeans. Then she looks at Billy, and her frown melts into a brilliant smile.

"Good, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Would you like to dance?" She steps forward, offering a hand. Her bangles slide down to her wrist with a clink.

A heavy ache spreads through Billy's chest, and he lays down his crayon. Long ago, on the actual day, he jumped up eagerly to join her. Somewhere along the way, the script changed.

"I... I don't know how." Tears sting his eyes. He swipes them away. Pussy.

"Oh sweetie, that's okay." Mom steps closer, offering her hand again. "Come on. I'll show you how."

He chews his lip, gaze flicking between her hand and her face. Her hair glows gold; her smile warms him like sunshine.

He smiles in answer.

"Okay," he murmurs. He takes her hand, and she helps him stand.

He isn't good at dancing, but Mom doesn't seem to care. She just sways with him, holding both his hands and spinning him occasionally. It makes him feel as beautiful as her.

Their dance seems to last forever. At the same time, it's much too short. All too soon, the song's over. In another break from reality, the record shuts off, as if holding its breath.

Mom steps back, still holding Billy's hands. At first she's beaming at him. Then her smile disappears behind a cloud, and strange expressions flash across her face, one after the other.

Billy stares at her, frowning. He knows now why she gave him such a strange look. But the confusion he felt that day still ripples through his core. It's a moment frozen in time, the confusion always fresh and evergreen, just waiting to be played back like a cassette tape.

She gathers him in a hug. Her hair covers his face, and it smells good. Floral.

She holds him tightly for a minute, then sighs and pulls back. Tears shine in her eyes.

"I love you, Billy." She touches his cheek. "So much."

He wants to smile, but he can't. She told him she loved him a lot, but there was something different about it that day. He couldn't put his finger on what.

"I love you too, Mom," he murmurs.

She pulls him in for another hug. As she holds him to her chest, fondling the back of his head, he goes still, staring forward into nothing. He feels cold all over, terribly cold. At the time, he didn't know why.

He learned why very soon.

He wakes with a gasp, cheek pressed against cold metal. As he jolts upright on his cot, glancing wildly around his prison cell, a searing wave of grief slices through him. He breathes hard, trying to hold it back, but it's no use. Sobs wrack his body. He collapses on the cot, curling into himself, fists raised helplessly by his head.

This is hell. Fucking hell.

But it's nothing he doesn't deserve.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove's mother #stranger things #stranger things fic #billy hargrove fic #billy is the american

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jemej3m · 4 years

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HAVE U EVER THOUGHT OF A BAND!AU?? i love band au's and ur work!!! (not to mention but i think u would write an excellent drummer!andrew)

are you kidding me??? have i ever thought of a band au? bruh i breathe band au’s

also, i wanted this to be soft, so have some childhood friends starting a band out of their mum’s garage :DD

“Can I now?”

Neil ducked his head, trying not to show Andrew his grin. “No, ‘Drew.”

Andrew cocked his head. “How about now?”

Neil turned around and arched a singular eyebrow at the man. “You cannot shove your drum stick through Kevin’s brain, Andrew. Not now: not ever.”

“I hate you,” he muttered. Neil just grinned.

“You say the sweetest things to me, ‘Drew.” With that, he turned and continued to tune his acoustic. Behind him, Andrew was going bright red.

What started as a friendly, neighbourhood band had turned into something else entirely: Neil and Andrew were cramped backstage, tuning and warming up. Kevin was probably talking to his mom on the phone, whilst Nicky was most certainly trying to escape their security detail and go flirt with fans in the event centre’s foyer. He could charm a crowd.

They’d started the band up when they were just kids: Neil remembered Kevin grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him across the street, where he’d noticed the three Dobson boys setting up instruments in their garage: Nicky on bass, Aaron on keyboard and Andrew on his drumkit.

Neil, having been only 11 whilst the others were 12 or 13, wasn’t as outspoken or enthusiastic about joining them as Kevin was.

“Come on, Neil,” Kevin insisted, dragging him by the elbow. “I’ll sing and you play the guitar. Okay?”

“It might be fun, Neil,” his sister, Dan, insisted, giving him a gentle push out the door. “It’s just messing around in a garage band. Nothing serious.”

If little Neil knew where he’d be, nine years later, he probably would’ve spontaneously combusted out of paranoia and fear.

Adult Neil still got anxious - he always wanted to perform his best - but it’d taken years of gigs and scouts and labels to work them up to where they were now. It was a gradual process, which definitely helped the whole stage-fright thing.

“What are you thinking about?” Andrew inquired, sitting down behind Neil and hooking his chin over Neil’s shoulder. He smiled, leaning back against his best friend.

“Just stuff,” he responded. “How we got here. Where we’ll go.”

“Next stop on the tour is D.C.”

“Funny.”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed, deadpan. “That’s what I’m known for.”

Neil just laughed, getting to his feet. “We’d better get ready before Kevin comes back.”

“Your brother is the worst,” Andrew grunted, following suit.

“At least we’re not related,” Neil grinned, jostling Andrew’s shoulder. “You can’t talk: you’re Aaron’s twin.”

Andrew just pointed a stick at Neil in warning.

The lights were flashing. Audience screaming. Neil opened his eyes out of his reverie and looked to his counterparts: Nicky was rushing up and down the front lines, giving out as many hugs as he could. Kevin was waving and blowing kisses. And Andrew -

He stood behind his drumkit, shirtless and dripping with sweat. He still bore his armbands, brimming with blades and secrets, and in his hands he loosely held his favourite pair of drumsticks, a pair Betsy had bought him, one’s he’d been careful to not break.

Neil’s mouth was dry as he walked over to where Andrew stood. A spotlight blazed from above, shrouding Andrew’s head and illuminating his hair like a golden halo. He looked angelic. He was angelic.

“You were amazing,” Neil said, voice lost under the cacophony of the crowd. His hand was reached out, gently brushing the bare skin of Andrew’s bicep. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore: the post-show euphoria was driving him.

Andrew didn’t need to hear him. He could read lips. Read intentions.

They were ushered off the stage soon after, Neil’s ears still ringing, his fingertips still burning. Andrew tugged on a fresh shirt, a towel around his neck. He had the most laborious job out of all of them, save maybe Kevin. Neil looked away from the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck.

“Good show,” Kevin panted, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. Neil nodded, the exhaustion of playing for four hours settling in. His shoulders ached, fingertips raw with playing both his guitar and the keyboard (Neil filled Aaron’s vacancy when he’d fucked off to college) whilst his throat ached from countless harmonies and backups he sung for Kevin.

Genuine praise from Kevin was rare and prized for their band, and was usually reserved to the few moments after a performance finished. Then he’d go back to his regularly scheduled criticisms and evaluations.

“Wasn’t it?” Nicky grinned. “We are such hot shit sometimes! Anyway,” he slung his guitar off to the side, careless. Neil winced a little. “I’ve got a cutie waiting in my car, apparently.” He winked. “His name’s Erik and he’s built like a wall. I’ll see y’all tomorrow!”

“Jesus Christ,” Kevin said, not unkindly. They were all used to Nicky’s antics by now. He looked back to Neil. “You gonna stay with Andrew or me?”

Neil narrowed his eyes. Was he going to stay with his brother or his best friend? The choice wasn’t exactly hard to make.

Kevin put up his hands. “What? I thought you two’d had a lover’s spat or something, before the show.”

“Kevin,” Andrew warned, voice low.

“You guys weren’t as synthesised as you usually are,” Kevin continued. “Did Neil say something, again? Neil, what did you do?”

“Kevin,” Andrew snapped.

The man took his final warning with a grain of salt and rolled his eyes, peeling off to cool down and head back to the hotel. He left Neil standing in the middle of the corridor, baffled. What the fuck was he talking about? A lover’s spat?

“Don’t think too hard, junkie,” Andrew muttered, fingers hooked into the collar of Neil’s shirt. “He’s just sprouting his usual bullshit.” But Andrew couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Right,” Neil agreed, smiling weakly. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Shut up,” Andrew tugged him down the corridor with a finger hooked through Neil’s belt loop.

Neil went willingly. He always went willingly with Andrew. There was no one else in the world that he trusted more.

“What do you mean, you’re not a thing?”

Neil paused with his fingertips up to the door, ready to push it open. It seemed as though he had stumbled upon a conversation - perhaps not for Neil’s ears.

“He’s not interested,” Andrew said, sounding exhausted. “And I’m not about to pressure him into something he doesn’t want.”

Huh. Maybe they were talking about a new guy. Andrew didn’t date that often - or very successfully - and he was usually not willing to talk to Neil about it whenever it did happen. Neil wasn’t quite sure why but respected his boundaries nevertheless. He just didn’t know that Andrew went to Kevin about it.

Neil wondered who it was, this time. Roland? He’d been the most long-term thing Andrew had ever attempted. No, Andrew said he wasn’t interested in Roland. Unless he was lying.

Andrew doesn’t lie to me, Neil reminded himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kevin insisted. “He’s been in love with you ever since he first saw you. Don’t give me that look, Andrew. Put away your knives.”

“Do you think so?” Andrew asked, voice low. Gravelly. Tainted by disbelief.

Something in Neil’s chest tightened. He sounded…hopeful. Neil was arbitrarily jealous. Who was this guy?

Wait, why was Neil jealous?

He pushed against the door, ignoring the way that the two of them shifted so that it didn’t look like they were engaged in conversation.

“We’re loading up the bus,” he supplied. “Time to get moving.”

And if Neil noticed the way that Andrew walked around him, careful not to brush their knuckles, well.

He didn’t say anything.

By the end of the third week, Neil couldn’t handle it anymore. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, or why Andrew was so adamant in avoiding him, but he hated it. He hadn’t felt this isolated since his early years when his father would shut him in a wardrobe and his mother would scold him for eliciting his father’s ire, before both of his parents died and Wymack adopted him into his strange little family, brought him into the tiny cul de sac where Betsy Dobson and Abby Winfield lived with their own collections of abandoned kids.

“Andrew,” he mumbled as he watched Andrew tuck himself into his own bed. They were sleeping in the same hotel room but they were millions of miles away from each other. Neil felt stiff and confused.

Resigned, he shut the light off.

“Fix it,” Kevin demanded.

“Fix what?”

“Just tell him already. It’s getting nauseating.”

Neil narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Kevin threw Neil’s lyric notepad back at him. “‘Living limbless, lost, lonely, ever since you went and left me’? What do you mean, what am I talking about? I thought you two were already together - now he’s saying you were never interested? What the fuck, Neil. You’ve been practically married for years.”

Neil blinked. “Me and -”

“Andrew, yes, who else?” Kevin continued, irritable as he scrawled down new ideas. “You’re so fucking dense sometimes - ow!”

Neil stuck out his tongue, satisfied with the large black line his thrown pen had left behind. He fished out another pen from his bag and kept writing, letting Kevin’s banter distract him from how painful his chest felt.

The tour was ending. They were looping back to South Carolina. Andrew hardly looked at him anymore, let alone spoke to him. Kevin looked at Neil with pity. Nicky tried to cheer everyone up with icecream.

Neil couldn’t understand why they were falling apart. What had he done? What had he said?

The screams irked him. They sounded less ecstatic and more afraid. Neil was falling apart onstage, overthinking. They’d just played for Charleston, one of their last stops on the tour.

The curtains came down. Neil couldn’t move. The others were already off the stage. Neil couldn’t breathe.

“Neil,” Andrew said. He couldn’t look Andrew in the eye. How was he to explain that Andrew’s estrangement had left him in such a miserable state that he could hardly perform without breaking down?

“Neil, look at me.”

Neil closed his eyes. “Whatever I did - I’m sorr -”

“Abram,” Andrew whispered, before pressing a bruising kiss to Neil’s lips. His eyes flew open, though he didn’t move. It didn’t matter: Not a moment later, Andrew ricocheted back, hand over his own mouth. In his other hand, his favourite drumsticks snapped, falling to the floor in uneven halves.

By the time Neil had opened his mouth, Andrew was gone.

Neil spent the drive to the pub they’d chosen to ride out their performance high in silence. Andrew was stoic and unmoving, silent despite Nicky’s attempts at conversation. When they arrived, Neil felt like he wanted to throw up.

It was bustling at the late hour, but dark enough to slip in unnoticed. Neil followed Andrew up to the bar: at one point, someone shoved into Andrew and Neil felt him press Neil against the marble top, warm from shoulder to shin. Neil wanted to lean back into him. He wanted Andrew to look at him, to talk to him. He wanted Andrew back. He wanted Andrew.

Quickly, he turned around, ignoring the bar tender when he asked if he was sure he wanted a virgin martini. Andrew was right there, pupils blown, cheeks red. Angry.

He was furious.

“Andrew,” Neil insisted. “Why -”

He grabbed the tray of drinks and disappeared before Neil could form a sentence.

And - well. Neil wasn’t known for subordination.

He waited patiently for the others to get drunk and disappear into the crowd, like they always did. Sometimes Nicky dragged Neil with him, if the night was right. Andrew usually just sat, patiently waiting for his family to return to him. His whiskey sips were cautious and slow.

Tonight was different. As soon as they were alone, Andrew stood, knocked back the entire glass and strode towards the exit. Neil let his breath hitch and followed, almost jogging in order to keep up with Andrew’s stride.

“Andrew, this is insane,” he said as they walked down the street, leaving the bar behind. “I’m losing my mind here. Why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you even look at me? What did I do?”

“Exist,” Andrew snarled, hands curled into fists and shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket.

Neil ran ahead of him, almost tripping over the uneven sidewalk. They’d walked far enough that they seemed to have removed themselves from any remnants of the club, and instead were stood in front of a circular, patheon-esque church and its haphazard graveyard.

Andrew stopped walking and stared. In the moonlight his skin was pale enough to be translucent.

“Tell me,” Neil whispered. “Truth for truth. We promised, Andrew. To never lie, to never leave. Why did you kiss me?”

“You promised,” Andrew corrected him. “I swore I would have your back. Does that have to constitute being attached at the hip?”

Neil crossed his arms, petulant.

Andrew’s sigh was aggravated. “It was never meant to be a problem.”

“What was?”

“You.”

“Andrew -”

Fingers curled in the collar of his shirt, then slipped across the warm skin at the nape of his neck, then tangled themselves into Neil’s hair. Andrew pulled their foreheads together, squeezing his eyes closed too tight. Neil wanted to iron out the crease between his brows.

“‘Drew?”

“Shut up,” the man croaked. “Shut up. Shut up.”

“Andrew,” Neil said, weakly. “I wanted to kiss you.”

Andrew’s nails dug into Neil’s scalp. “No you didn’t.”

“Yes,” his fingers carefully found their way onto Andrew’s jaw, forcing the man to look up at him. “I did.”

Andrew just swallowed, red-cheeked.

Neil pulled Andrew closer, head dropping to Andrew’s shoulder. His heart throbbed like a drumbeat, heavy and insistent and never, ever out of time. “Is that what this is about?”

“No,” Andrew lied.

“I think I like you, ‘Drew,” Neil whispered into the skin of Andrew’s neck. “I think I really do.”

“I hate you,” Andrew managed, sliding his hands around Neil’s waist and holding him close under the Charleston moonlight. “I hate you.”

“I know,” Neil managed, closing his eyes. It made a lot more sense, now.

Between their erratic breathing and racing pulses, a drumbeat formed.

#andreil #pining #band au #drummer andrew #guitarist neil #they're soft and in love #childhood friends #betsy dobson is a good mother #and wymack is a good father #musician au #all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #aftg #oblivious neil josten #jem writes

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sadboyayeron · 4 years

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THE ONLY VALID MORIYAMA Nikoshi Doe

I came up with this Idea of Kevin having to raise Rikos son who’s name I decide would be Nikoshi Doe aka Niko

Enjoy

So If you Read “Tapping on my Chamber door”

You know Nikoshi’s mother, Naima Dixon was born in Jamaica but came to the states at a young age after her mom past away. She lived in the Bronx with her Aunt. She had tight curls aften in box breads or corn cornrows and dark skin with light brown eyes. She was 5’8. Had a muscular build from all the years of track and had a scholarship to run at Eager Allen University. She was soon to have a spot on the olympic team for long jump, 100, 200 and 400 meters. She was then pregnant with Nikoshi after her and Riko started there little hook up. The knew of each other but they first met in class. She noticed Riko looking at her.

“Like what you see.” I was trying to catch him off guard but he didn’t even look surprise. But then he smiled. Something sharp that left me feeling tingly, similar to how I feel before racing.

“Not to bad, no.” He chuckled, looked me up and down before he landed back on my eyes, “Want to sit.”

He left me in a trance and I took a seat next to him and sat my books in front of me. I tucked some braids behind my ear and looked at him again, he was looking back with a smug smile on his face.

At first I was thinking Nikoshi was Rikos frozen sperm and his mother was forced by Rikos uncle to have him BUT I decide that Riko died before he knew about Naima being pregnant She found out she was pregnant and went to Riko’s uncle for help and he said to give him the kid and she could get her scholarship Back. So she agreed naming him “Nico” but sadly she died while giving birth from bleeding out. Tesuji doesn’t use that name and changes it to ‘Nikoshi’ stripping him of any last name (Doe) putting the kid into the system in the same place she grow up in Bronx. Ichirou is informed of Nikoshi ten years later after having his Uncle killed. Who then informs kevin.

Nikoshi is from the Bronx has a accent when he speaks. He knows Spanish because of the amount of Dominican and Puerto Rican foster parents he’s had. Kinda understands broken english two because one of his foster brothers was from Jamaica which is cool because he knows he’s half Jamaican and some type of asian. He wears beat up high top jordan 1s baggy ripped jeans and long sleeves with a baggy jacket. He plays soccer because the system put him on a team and he’s very fast. He didn’t have much clothes but his best ones are the uniforms and he’s fine with that. He also plays street basketball and baseball with some kids in the area.

Kevin has to take Nikoshi in, according to Ichirou. Bringing Neil and Andrew with him. Ichirou just sent him a picture a kid and he was confused until he got that call that explained everything. He doesn’t need to explain who the kid is because you can clearly tell from the picture. Though the kid has milk cholclate skin, and curly hair that falls around his head in a fro.

When he frist sees Nico he has a scrape scab on his cheek, bruises on his wrist and purple knuckles. His ears a surprisingly pierced.

They find out Nikoshi Doe goes by Niko, he likes chocolate and cafe con leche (coffee), he likes shoes, he likes the color green, he uses a lot of slang and sometimes uses broken english and spanglish words, he’s quite but hyper and doesn’t know how to say still, asks why a lot, he hates math and likes to read, he loves listening to music it’s his safe place, he was diagnosed with ADHD/ADD and takes a pill in the morning and after noon on school days, he doesn’t like the way the pills make him feel, he likes Bee, Bee suspects Niko my be Borderline but it’s hard to tell, Kevin explains Riko was too. When they go to pick up Nikoshi they are informed of his diagnoses.

“So Kevin Day, It is very nice to meet you my husband loves watching you guys play Exy,” She smiled at them and then opened a drawer in her desk pulling out two folders.“ Now these paper were just printed out today. One from Nikoshi’s Doctor and another from his psychologist.” Kevin straightened his back more at that.

“Psychologist?” She looked up at Kevin.

“Yes, a lot of children in foster care go to see a therapist. It helps cope with abandonment and makes sure the kids are transitioning well in their new homes.” She opened one of the folders. “Nikoshi saw a therapist who recommended him to a psychologist. He was diagnosed with ADHD/ADD and given medication. He went through three different medications before he was put on Focalin XR. His biggest issues are impulsivity, managing feelings, and energy. There is more information in the folder with getting the prescription at a pharmacy and things to know about his behavior. He takes Focalin every morning before school, its not needed on the weekends but to long off it isn’t the best idea. Though if you want him off the medication, if you ever come to adopting him you can do that.” She looked towards the other two. “Will you two be helping take care of Nikoshi.”

“Yeah we are, is there anything else we need to know. If he needs a therapist we already got that covered. We can send her the information.” Neil replied with a bored tone but

“Thats good to know, he just saw the doctor last week. He gained some weight and is now at a more healthier weight then he was before.” She sighed. “You have to reminded him to eat, he forgets to and he doesn't ask for food. The foster home he was just at was good with keeping a schedule, he ate, took his meds, ate at school, had a snack at home, soccer practice and then dinner. He gets distracted and has little habits that cause him focus to much on random things. The meds take away his hunger also, so it important that he finishes.” She then closed both folders and stacked them together before sliding them to Kevin.

Kevin didn’t know how to process that. This information sounded to familiar. He always had to remind Riko to eat something. Riko would go days without eating, or sleeping, or even both. It got so bad the master had to tube feed him because he past out and didn’t get back up. Niko always got back up. He was taken out of his thoughts when the lady, Jennifer stood. He picked up the folders and got up following Andrew and Neil out the door. Nikoshi was still sitting in his chair, he was singing his legs slowly and seemed fixated on his hands.

“Nikoshi, these gentlemen here are going to be your new guardians,” Niko looked up at them. He got a better look at there faces, now that the glasses were off he could easily recognize who the taller man was with the chess piece on his cheek bone. He was confused o say the least. This had to be some sick joke, or a stupid stuPID dream. He looked at the other too, the screw that littered the red heads tan face and the man with blond hair and black studs.

“Deadass?” He blurted out suddenly. Fuck. He did not mean to blurt that out. Kevin day looked taken back by his statement and the other too snickered from slightly behind him. The lady looked horrified.

Riko used to self harm, stop eating for days, wouldn’t sleep for days either. His uncle had to force him into a tube feeder once because of this. Kevin and Riko had to see a therapist and she diagnosed Riko. His uncle disregarded it and gave him sum type of pills that made Riko’s anger at himself turn down a bit but he was more depressed. He tried to commit 3 times after. Kevin made him promise not to. He flushed the pills and started to abuse others.

Kevin explains this to Neil and Andrew. They then try to learn more about BPD. They watch youtube videos, read articles and books on it till they had a better understanding of the disorder. They learn about the self-destructive tendencies and suicidal gestures that are quite common with the disorder. They all try there best to build a good support system.

Niko has a hard time with his identity and ‘who he is’, he tries to remember that Kevin wants him and isn't going to abandon him, he tries to keep his shifts in moods to himself but in only makes things worse. He tends to shut down in his room more often then not. He finds himself getting angry at little things knowing he shouldn’t but he still does. Anger attacks aren't as bad as the empty feeling he gets sometimes.

When Niko meets all the foxes he drifts more towards Nicky for whatever reason. He finds that he like Nickys happy vibes and feels it radiate from him. He likes to soak in it.

Niko likes talking to Neil, he gets candy from Andrew, and he likes playing Exy with Kevin. He didn’t like school and says it’s hard for him but he still makes honor roll no problem.

During the second month of school when he first started living with Kevin he expriences racism for maybe the first time. He didn’t have any friends, nor knew anybody. He could tell he was different from the other kids. They were mostly white with a splash of color here and there. The way they talked and walked was different then how he did. He didn’t grew up with white picket fences like they seemed to. They dressed different too. He didn’t like the stares he was getting from the kids in his class.

“Nice hair are you a girl?” One of the boys said, with his little click at his back. It was recess and Niko stuck to staying to himself drawling in his note book that Andrew gave him.

“No.” The boys continued to laugh. He hated when people talked about his hair. He didn't like his hair. Especially when his foster mothers always tugged and pulled on it. That wasn't just it though. It reminded him of his foster father Mr. James.

“Such pretty hair.”

The boys crept closers and Niko started to feel closed in. One of them pulled out scissors and two grabbed him by the shoulders. One talked about how there dad said them Black boys need to cut there hair. Another used a slur Niko heard a lot back in the Bronx, used it himself when with the kids in the neighborhood but he never heard it used like this. He started to struggle but another one grabbed his face and held him down so his face fell between his knees. He felt chuncks of hair being cut of from his head as they fell down his back and some at his feet.

He felt his eyes water and struggled harder. He kicked the one to his right in the shin, knowing how much it hurt from when he played soccer with out shin guards. The kids let go of that shoulder and he swung his arm hitting another kid. They all let go once they heard a teacher yell at them. Niko reached for the scissors and threw them in the grass. The boys ran away and Niko was left to look at the small and large chunks of his hair on the concrete. He didn’t mean to bother anybody. He didn't ask to have this type of hair. He didn’t ask to be different. Sometimes he missed the Bronx but then remembered his foster sister getting shot, and his doped up foster parents he used to end up with. He didn't want to go back, but he found himself missing it sometimes.

Nobody asked abut his hair during the rest of the school day. Not even his teacher. Its fine he didn't want to bother anybody. When Andrew came to pick him up he was wearing his hoodie. Today Neil and Andrew were coming over, so was Aaron. Aaron practically lived with him and Kevin now though. He said nothing on the way home. He didn't want to bother them. He was trying his hardest not to.

But then he got home he went straight to the bathroom and locked the door. He didn’t hear Kevin nor Aaron calling him. He stared in to the mirror and glared at himself. Disgusting. You look like a girl. He ripped off his hood and he felt something in himself crack. His hair was clearly uneven. Some areas you couldn’t tell but he could see how his curls on his forehead were shortened compared to the pieces on the sides. He could tell where every spot was that had been cut, like there were circles showing him where to look. A broken sob cut through his throat. The tears rolled down his cheeks. He always thought he was an ugly crier. He grabbed his hair and pulled. He kept pulling till he felt arms wrap around his torso. He wanted to fight who ever they were off but he couldn't. They grabbed his hands but they couldn't pry them from his hair. He heard someone calling his name and found a face to that voice. He noticed another person accompanied him in the mirror. Holding on to him. It wasn’t his voice he heard though. He saw the other three at the bathroom entrance but it was Aaron standing closest to him.

“Niko its okay, let go buddy.” He didn’t know if he meant his hands or his feelings but he let them go. He saw more pieces of hair fall through his hands but ignored it and them screamed. Kevin turned him around and held him again. Kevin lowered himself to his knees to let Niko cry and scream into his neck. He rubbed his back till he calmed down. Neil and Andrew left to prepare some ice cream and play music. Kevin noticed the hair that fell to the floor and so did Aaron. It didn’t match the amount that should still be connected to his head.

Niko told them what happened at school with less emotion then he displayed before. They were all furious but chose to keep it inside to comfort Niko. They called the school and told them what happened. The school apologized but Kevin still wasn't letting Niko go back to that school. He transferred Niko to another and reassured him it was okay and it was the same distance anyways. They took Niko to the babor shop and they evened out his hair. He got it cut some on the sides as well, allowing the back and top to be longer. His hair showed more off his forehead and ear piercings now. He felt more exposed, but was happy with the hair cut.

When he meets Dan she gives him oils and creams to put in his hair. Even showed him how to wash it too, Matt helps. He got to meet there kids.

Allison braided his hair down for when he graduated Elementary School. She teaches how how to do other things like twist, braids, and box braids.

When he goes to college Renee helps him bleach the ends of his hair blond.

He has nightmares often. And likes to have hot chocolate to calm his nerves. He gets irritated easily, they learn. When he gets irritated he stops talking and fidgets, tapping his foot and cracking his knuckles.

Kevin’s night terrors slowly fade as Riko’s dark shadow fades into Nikos warm glow.

Niko definitely learns how to skateboards when Aaron gives him his old one. Kevin likes to watch them practice it together. Just like Aaron likes to watch Kevin teach Niko Exy. He joins a team in Middle School. He's definitely going to be something.

Hope you guys like this. Leave ask and suggestions about Nikoshi Doe. I would love to hear about it and write the prompts.

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