Becile’s Boys (Part 1/3)
I’M SORRY SURGE BUT APPARENTLY IT IS “FUCK WITH YOUR BOYS’ EMOTIONS NIGHT”.
Title: Becile’s Boys (Part 1/3)
Word Count: 757
Summary: Your name is Hare, and life has never been kind to you.
T!W: Implied verbal, emotional abuse
It’s hard knowing you were built to be a rip off. It’s harder knowing that you’re not even a very good one.
Because you weren’t built with love like the Walter boys, built to impress and entertain, to bring music and joy and all that shit. You’re just another attempt by your old man to spit in his rival’s eye, long after the real fight was over and the prize was a rotting corpse in the ground. He never really wanted you to stand on your own—he wanted something people could compare between them, to show the world he could do better than Walter, that he could take a lesser man’s work and make it flawless.
Except you weren’t flawless, you weren’t and neither were your brothers, and he never let you forget that. He scowls and yells when The Jack drops something or The Skull chokes and sends embers flying everywhere, and you know something about that ain’t right. And one day you get up the courage to ask him, ask him why he built Jacky to be clumsy and put Skulker’s furnace in his throat, why he yells at you for things you can’t do nothing about, and you get worked up enough to ask why you have a voice box that sounds like a box of nails on a chalkboard when Rabbit sounds like a goddamn angel—And he looks at you, and out of all the times he’s been angry he’s never made you feel so—so—all of these terrible feelings bubble in your furnace and you can’t sort them out so you just drop your eyes, back when you had two, and you say you’re sorry, sorry Pops, I didn’t mean it like that, but he still has that look on his face, and your voice box won’t work anymore so you turn and walk out of the workshop, feeling smaller than you actually are or ever felt, and when you close the door behind you you hear tools, chairs, tables being knocked over and this red hot howl coming from your old man, and you bolt like a real jackrabbit and not just a robot named after one. You don’t ask Pops about it again and he never gives you an answer.
You convince yourself that you can live with it but you know that Jacky can’t, poor Jacky whose wig keeps falling over his eyes but it’s his favorite one so he won’t even let you trim the bangs. Poor Jacky with the quick grin, keen and always trying to help but his hands twist and glitch when he gets excited, and Pops yells at him the most because he’s always in the way and can’t do a damn thing right, and one night it’s so bad that Pops screams about decommissions and selling his parts to the Scrappers, that he’s the worst of all three of them, and worse things that you don’t want to hear but can’t not hear because he’s screaming so loud. You look at Skully and he almost looks sad, but he’s not moving to help, he couldn’t ever stand up to your old man, but you feel fear in the fire in your chest and you run out of the room, you go to find Jacky before Pops does something stupid, something you can’t say even in your own mind, but Jack finds you first, skidding around a corner, glitching terribly, and he sees you and you only have time to say his name before he collides with you, spasms wracking his frame and oil staining your vest, babbling in between sobs, and you don’t know what else to do but put your arms around his shoulders and head and let him cry, trying to comfort him with your terrible voice that only gets worse as you fight against your own emotions, just trying to tell him that things’ll get better, you’ll see Jacky, you and me we’re gonna make it through this ‘cause we’re tough, we’re tough as nails, and some day Pops’ll come around, you know he will, but you gotta be strong for me until then Jacky, and strong for Skully too ‘cause he’s hurting even when he won’t show it, and no Jacky nobody hates you, no one’s gonna scrap you on my watch, even if you were broken I’d have your back, always, ‘cause that’s what brothers do. So you don’t gotta cry, Jacky, I’m here, Hare’s here, and I’m not ever gonna leave ya, I promise.