Homeward Bound {Solo}

[Atticus Sanford]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,5,true][atrb=style, height: 500ps; width: 450px; background-image: url(http://i774.photobucket.com/albums/yy29/Virid/Coding/WWatercolorbackground.jpg); -moz-border-radius: 20px, btable][cs=2] Keep on telling me lies I'll believe you, believe you Keep on telling me lies Like I need you, I need you
[atrb=style, height: 310px; width: 325px; -moz-border-radius: 20px] Weekend One I’ll keep you my dirty little secret Don’t tell anyone or you’ll be just another regret My dirty little secret Who has to know? A tired hand hit his bedside table, searching for the source of the music. It smacked a couple of other times before it finally landed on the young man’s phone, and he silenced it with a press of a button. Slowly, the phone was drawn back into the depths below his covers. “Hello?” he muttered, barely awake. There was a moment of silence before a string of incoherent grumbled passed from the boy’s lips. The words “thirty minutes” were barely recognizable before he placed his phone back on his bedside table. The blankets shifted until there was just a lump beneath them. It was still for a moment before, finally, Atticus poked his head out from beneath the sheets. His hair was all mussed, sticking out every which way. As he glanced at the time, he found that it was going on 12:30 in the afternoon. Hm, he always slept in on the weekends. Nonetheless, he sat up, and goose bumps immediately spread across his bare back and chest. “What in bloody…” he murmured, turning to look at his window. It was cracked open about an inch, letting in the winter air. A coughing fit overtook him as he breathed in the cold air, and he dove back under the blankets to alleviate it. He hated the winter here. It was almost as bad as in Britain. Almost. After about five minutes of dozing off back under the sheets, Atticus woke himself up enough to get out of bed, taking all his blankets with him. They dragged along the floor, covering the short distance between the bed and the closet. Following his usual routine, he let his blankets fall to the ground as he slipped on a pair of clean boxers. He turned to his mirror, giving his hair a look of disapproval as he eyed it. However, he ignored it for the moment and slipped into a pair of faded jeans that were loose on the hip. To remedy that, he threaded a belt through the loops and tightened it until it practically served as a corset around his waist. But he found it comfortable and proceeded to pull on a simple white long-sleeve shirt. He balled up his blankets and tossed them back on the bed, opting to worry about it later. The window was next, and he promptly closed it before propping his door open to let in some warmer air. It was a terribly vicious cycle. If he kept the window closed, it would get stuffy inside his dorm. Opening the door wouldn’t do much because, due to the cold, not much air would circulate to begin with. But by opening his window, he let in cold, damp air that was still bad for his asthma. He was in a catch twenty-two. But he could figure it out. It worked in Britain for fourteen years, right? Atticus rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned. Even with all the extra sleep, he still found himself tired. And his year hadn’t even begun getting interesting. He grabbed his phone and checked the time before pocketing it. Twenty minutes had passed since his conversation. He had ten more to spare. He tossed on a pair of Converse on before deciding to tackle the mess that was his hair. A couple moments passed as he searched his draws for a comb before he finally found it stashed away with his scarves. What, was he drunk when he put away all of his belongings? Shrugging the thought aside, he ran the comb through the criss-crossing strands. Despite the work he put into it, several pieces still stood up at awkward angles. He grabbed a half-emptied water bottle from his desk, poured a bit on his hands, and smoothed down the trouble parts. Content with his work, he pulled on a blue and black striped jacket and wrapped a simple striped scarf around his neck. He pocketed his phone and inhaler, pulled his iPod from its dock, and threaded his headphones beneath his shirt. Five minutes left. With no time left to argue with himself, Atticus left his dorm and made his way to the front of the school where his mother was parked, waiting for him. “Hey, Mum,” he said as he sat down and pulled the door closed behind him. “Hello, Atty. How’s school been?” she asked kindly, pulling out of the parking lot and heading for home. Atticus shrugged. “It’s school, really. Kind of dull,” he replied simply. “Well it’s nice to be able to see you on the weekends. How’s your asthma been? I know how it tends to act up in the winter time.” “Eh, it’s about the same. It probably won’t really flare up until the snow sets in.” “Well that’s good,” and with that, the car ride became mostly silent. The two pulled into the driveway of the two-story house, and Atticus made his way inside. “I’m home!” he called out. Almost immediately, he could hear a rumble of footsteps and a chorus of “Atty’s home!” from upstairs. Three children bounded down the steps, and Atticus was sure one of them would trip over their feet and fall. Thankfully, it didn’t happen. Faron was the first down the steps. He wrapped his arms around his older brother’s waist. “I didn’t break anything in your room, I swear!” were the first words out of his mouth. Somehow, Atticus found that to be a lie, and he made a mental note to search his room for anything missing. Thankfully, he took all his important things with him. He knew better than to leave them at home. “Atty!” Mary was the next one to welcome him home, and the sheer force behind her running down the stairs pushed him backwards slightly. “This is Sarah! She’s my bestest friend ever!” she boasted, pointing to her brown-haired friend. Said girl was standing at the base of the steps, looking at him in awe. He gave a partial wave. “’Ello, Sarah,” he said, “nice to meet you.” “You’re really pretty,” was the only response from her. Taking it as a compliment, Atticus merely nodded in thanks. “Are you gonna be here this weekend, Atty?” Mary chirped, looking up. “Yeah, I am. You can tell me about everything,” he laughed, patting her head. Faron had long since let go of him and made his way back upstairs. Atticus assumed he was going to better hide whatever he had smashed. A huge grin spread across Sarah’s face as if an idea had just hit her. “Atty,” she began, already taking and using the nickname his family had given him, “you wanna see my camera? It’s really cool!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him, urging him to follow her up the stairs. Deciding to indulge her in her childish whims, Atticus followed, gently coaxing Mary to let go of him and follow them up. Sarah led them up into Mary’s bright yellow room. On his younger sibling’s bed sat a pink, plastic camera. Scrawled in some fancy writing on the front was the word ‘Barbie’ and dark pink flowers adorned its surface. Sarah picked it up and held it out for him to see. “Isn’t it cool?!” she smiled. “Uh, yeah… sure,” he lied, not really finding it all that interesting. “It really takes pictures!” and without warning, the camera flashed and took a photo of him completely off guard. He jumped back a bit, blinking from the sudden burst of light. She spun something on the side, and Atticus assumed that it was an older camera, the ones that still used film. “Sarah, weren’t we going to go play?” Mary asked from beside Atticus. “Hold on. Can you take a photo of me and Atty?” Sarah asked. Mary looked down for a moment before managing a small smile. “Yeah… sure,” she said slowly. She took the camera from Sarah’s hands, and Sarah sidled right up next to Atticus. He sighed and dropped down to his knees so his face could be in the photo as opposed to just his lower half. Now at the same height as him, Sarah put her arm over his shoulders and pulled him closer, tugging him off balance. He tensed up, and instead of smiling, he only managed a half-hearted ‘help me’ look. “Now can we play?” Mary asked impatiently, setting the camera down on her bed. “Yeah. Hey, Atty, do you want to play with us? We were gonna play house. You can be the daddy, and I’ll be the mommy,” she said. “Wait, Sarah, I thought I was going to be the mommy,” Mary whined. Sarah crossed her arms. “Well now I’ve decided that I want to be the mommy.” “No, it’s alright. You guys play house together. I have stuff I have to take care of,” Atticus put a hand to the back of his head nervously as he stood up. “Oh… okay then…” the tone in Sarah’s voice was undoubtedly an unhappy one. “You guys have fun, okay?” and with that, he left the room. However, as he closed the door, he vaguely heard the very tail end of the two girls’ conversation. “So can I be the mommy?” Mary asked. “I don’t really want to play house anymore,” Sarah replied, sounding utterly bored. He made his way to his room where he found Faron frantically trying to piece something back together in the middle of the floor. The young boy looked back at his older brother, eyes wide with fear. “I didn’t mean to break it, Atty! I really didn’t!” he cried. Atticus walked over to him and bent down to get a closer look at what was broken. Upon closer inspection, Atticus found that ‘it’ was actually one of his old cell phones he used eons ago. The whole thing had come apart. As he looked at it, Atticus found that it wasn’t in as bad of a condition that Faron made it out to be. Really, the only problem was that the front and back casing had separated from the circuitry inside – nothing difficult. “It’s okay, Faron. I can fix it,” he said, easily sandwiching the electrical board between the two plastic halves. “I don’t even use this anymore. It’s really just garbage I haven’t thrown out yet,” Atticus shrugged, presenting Faron with the reassembled cell phone. The young boy gingerly picked it up, as though if he did so he would break it again. “Wow, Atty, you’re amazing!” Atticus chuckled and ruffled Faron’s hair. He stood up to look around his room. Nothing else seemed out of place or broken. It was exactly as he had left it which surprised him. He had half expected Faron or Mary to have torn it apart in his absence like the year before. Thankfully, they hadn’t. “Hey, Faron, do you know where Dad is?” Atticus suddenly asked. “I think he’s downstairs watching something on the tele,” Faron replied, turning the phone over in his hands. “Can I have this?” “Yeah, sure thing. Thanks.” Atticus made his way downstairs, took a left, and stood in the kitchen. His mother was currently rummaging through the fridge for something. “I think Sarah finds you to be rather attractive, the way she acted around you,” she said, not even bothering to look up. “Ugh, don’t remind me,” he groaned. “Oh, be nice, Atty. She’s just a little girl. Don’t you remember having crushes when you were younger?” “Not really, Mum. Anyway, where’s Dad? I gotta let him know I’m home for now.” ***** “You’re staying the night, Sarah? Aren’t you a bit young?” he asked, beyond confused. “Yup! My mommy and daddy said it was okay!” she boasted. Atticus took note that Mary wasn’t currently downstairs watching TV with them. Instead, it was just Atticus, Faron, and Sarah sitting on the couch with some TV show airing. “Where’s Mary, Sarah?” he questioned. “She’s up in her room. She all sad about something but she won’t tell me and she’s being really boring. So we can play together until she gets happier!” Sarah said cheerily. Atticus pursed his lips together. Mary wasn’t the sort to get sad too often unless it was something really big. “I’m gonna go check up on her.” He stood and plodded up the stairs with sock-clad feet. Mary’s door was closed, so he knocked on it gently. “Mary? he asked softly. There was a faint sound behind the door that sounded suspiciously like sobbing. “Mary, it’s me, Atty. I’m going to come in, okay?” he said before turning the door knob and opening the door. In front of him, his younger sister was sitting her her bed, large tears rolling down her cheeks. Immediately, his heart went out to her. He stepped into her room and closed the door behind him and took a seat next to her. “What’s wrong, Mary? You can tell me.” He scooted back so his back was leaning against the wall and pulled his younger sibling into his lap where she could cry into his chest. “S-Sarah said th-that you and her were going to ge-get married and that you would love her and not me anymore,” she cried, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. Oh, so this is what this was about. “And then I-I told her that it wasn’t true and that you would still love me and Mommy and Daddy and Faron, but she said you wouldn’t.” More sobs came from the young girl and Atticus wrapped his arms around her small frame as a combination of hiccups and sobs racked it. “Now, now… You know that’s not true. I’m always going to love you and Mum and Dad and Faron, no matter what anyone else might say,” he assured her. “You promise?” she hiccupped, looking up at him. “I promise,” he smiled gently. “Now, how about we go downstairs and all of us watch a movie together? You can pick it out.” Immediately, a grin lit up Mary’s face. “Can we watch the Lion King?” If that’s what you want,” he replied, scooting to the edge of the bed and standing up after she had moved. Her mood had taken a whole one-eighty turn, and she bounded out of her room with all the energy of a coiled spring. Atticus gave a content sigh. It was sort of funny that she vaguely reminded him of Brandon, the way she so easily bounced back from moods. Brandon was a lot like that. Then again, it wasn’t that hard for him to cheer Brandon up. A cheeky grin found its way onto his face, and he mentally smacked his hand. He hadn’t had a chance to spend some quality time with his old dorm make. Atticus stuffed his hands into his pockets and made his way into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea. “Hey, Atty,” Sarah’s voice caught his attention as he dumped the used tea leaves into the garbage. “We don’t know how to play the movie,” she said. “Alright, I’ll be there in a moment,” he replied, dropping a sugar cube into his mug and taking a sip. “What’re you drinking?” Sarah asked. “Tea,” he responded simply. “Can I have some?” “You wouldn’t like it.” “Can I try it?” Sarah held her hand up for his cup. With a resigned sigh, he helped her take a tiny sip. She spluttered and stuck out her tongue in disdain. “Eww, that’s gross!” “I told you so,” he groaned before stepping into the family room. There, Faron was busily messing with the DVD player. There was white static on the TV screen and a stray CD on the ground. “I think I got it, Atty,” Faron said, looking at his brother. Atticus set his mug down and sat down next to Faron. “No, you’ve gotta plug the cables into their appropriate colors,” he said, switching several cords in order to match the colors. Immediately, the menu screen of the Lion King came up accompanied by its theme music. Atticus hit play and skipped through the previews before settling down on the couch with his younger siblings and Sarah. Mary scooted her way into his lap, her usual spot when it came to movies. Not one to be outdone, Sarah practically wrapped herself around his left arm and proceeded to watch the screen. Somewhere between Simba being found by Timon and Pumba and reuniting with Nala, Atticus had dozed off having finished his drink. By the time the credits were rolling, the only ones really awake were Sarah and Faron. Sarah shook Atticus slightly, and he opened his eyes to look at her. “Is the movie over?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his free hand. Sarah nodded. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. It was going on nine-thirty. He yawned before adjusting slightly so he wouldn’t bother the sleeping form of Mary on his lap. Despite sleeping in, he assumed school had taken its toll on him. “Well I’m heading off to bed. Night, guys,” he said, standing and heading upstairs to his room. He closed his door behind him before stripping off his shirt and tossing aside his belt. He slipped his jeans off and tossed them over the end of his bed before burying himself under the covers. Split seconds before he let sleep overcome him, he realized that he forgot his phone charger at the school. Click. Click. Click. Atticus’s blue eyes fluttered open to the sound of a shutter opening multiple times. He blinked several times, wincing slightly as a flash blinded him momentarily. It took him a couple moments and a few more flashes later before he sat up, wondering what in the world was happening. He turned, holding up his hand. “Sarah, what are you doing in my bloody room? Get out,” he growled, not ready to put up with her childish acts. He didn’t like his room being invaded. It had been a pet peeve of his ever since Faron had been born, and his siblings knew very well that they should not wake him up. “You’re really cute when you sleep, Atty,” Sarah said, looking at him through her camera lens. Atticus glared at her. Here he was in the morning, clad in nothing more than his boxers, and rudely awoken by a young girl with a childish crush. “Sarah, get out or I will make you get out,” he threatened. Her smile fell and tears welled in his her eyes. “You’re so mean, Atty!” she cried before running out of his room. He groaned before hiding under his covers again. He really wanted to go back to his dorm at Pallet already. Was the weekend over yet? He hoped it was.	[rs=2][atrb=style, width: 110px]
[atrb=style, height: 100px] Words: 3,244 Tags: N/A Notes: Decided that I'd do a little series of Atty's weekend visits home in a mini-story sort of thing. Credits: Template by Todoku of PHS