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sparkedblaze · 9 months

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morris and oscar’s pa, or any former carer, would often lock morris up when he was being bad or having meltdowns. in a cramped little closet where it was hard to hear him screaming unless you were right up next to it, totally dark, and full of sharp edges for him to hurt himself on as he threw himself around and screamed and begged. oscar always had to go and find him when he noticed him missing, and nobody would ever tell him where mo was, but he soon learned to always rush to that same closet.

a couple of medda’s boys, all those years later when morris and oscar are starting to visit medda again, lock morris in a closet when the opportunity arises. it’s mean-spirited, done because they don’t like oscar nor his brother, but it’s not *cruel*. just a prank. hazing.

they don’t expect morris to freak out as bad as he does.

THE CLOSET ASK

Also this turned into absolutely not just being a prank, but revenge that had gone too far.

T/W: blood, injury, s/h, bullying, panic attack

I think that's all of the t/w needed but please please please read cautiously.

Morris was sitting on the couch on the wall, next to Os, and across from Blink and Mush. The others were scattered around the house. Mike and Ike had gone to one of the back rooms to show Hotshot where they were sleeping, JoJo and Katherine had gone out to get more nail polish, and mama Medda was in the kitchen with Jack and David.

He’d been staring at the couple across from him and his brother. They were huddled together and whispering and laughing. Morris’s ears burned, wondering if they were talking and laughing at him.

The question melted away as his curiosity got enraptured by something else. “Wha’ hap’ned?”

He felt Os nudge him, and looked up to see the shake of his head. “Mo, don’t.”

But it was too late, the other two were already looking at them. Blink with the glare that made most boys quake in their boots, and Mush with an uneasy smile, trying to keep the peace.

“What?” Blink’s voice was deadly quiet, unusually calm, and it raked at Morris’s spine.

Morris’s hand came up to brush his fingers just under his eye, asking again. “Wha’ hap’ned?”

“It ain’t your business wha’ hap’ned,” Blink’s glare hardened, and he crossed his arms. “It don’t matter.”

Morris was silent for only a moment, it was all the time he could keep his curiosity at bay. “Why you gotta wear tha’ thing?”

His hand moved to cover his own eye, mimicking Blink’s eyepatch.

Blink’s brows furrowed further, and Morris watched Mush take his hand and saw his knuckles turn white with how tightly he squeezed.

Blink yanked his hand away from Mush, and stood, storming out of the room. Morris watched, looking back at Mush for an explanation.

The other boy just shrugged, picking at his nails as he stood, going toward the kitchen instead.

Morris looked up at Os, frowning, wondering what he’d done. Os ruffled his hair and sighed. “ ‘S okay, Mo. They ain’t understand you. Nobody do. ‘Cept me.”

About an hour later, Morris was sitting on the floor with Mike, building with the big blocks mama Medda had gotten for them. Os had gone to see if they’d needed any help setting up the tables and everything, had trusted Mike enough to not hurt Morris to leave them alone together.

Red walked in and leaned over the back of the couch. “What’re you two doin’?”

Mike held up one of the blocks, grinning around his chewelry.

Red smiled at him, ruffling Mike’s hair as he turned his attention to Morris. “Hey, Delancey. We gots somethin’ we wan’na show you.”

“Me?” Morris asked, eyes lighting up at the prospect of actually finally being accepted in the house. When Red nodded, he scrambled to his feet.

“Yup, c’mon, ‘s in your room.”

Morris bounced on his toes as he followed Red back to the room he shared with Os, Mike walking silently behind him.

When they made it to the open door, Morris’s excited bouncing and quieted chirps turned to clacking teeth and wringing hands. He stepped inside the room, the only light coming from the glowing stars across the ceiling.

“Wha-” he was interrupted by Red shoving him down. Morris’s hair stood on end as he felt someone move behind him. He flailed, trying to get them away.

Someone heaved him up from beneath his arms, and started dragging him to the other wall. Morris kicked his feet, swung his fists, threw his head back, trying to make the person let him go.

Red grabbed his legs, lifting him the rest of the way off the ground, now carrying him that way.

Morris looked toward the doorway, where Mike had been just a second before. He was gone. He wasn’t going to help Morris. He left him.

“Maybe this’ll teach you to keep them questions to youself,” he heard Blink’s voice in his ear, and he started thrashing harder.

They dumped him on the floor, and the light turned on, making Morris wince and cower back. Red and Blink were above him, grinning.

“It’ll give ya some time to…” Red paused, thinking, and the words made Morris’s stomach churn. “Think ‘bout what you done.”

With that they closed the door, and Morris screamed.

He pounded against the door, threw himself against the wall. He could hear the other two laughing outside. Why was this so funny to them?

Oscar had been helping set up tables outside. It was menial work, something that Medda couldn’t do on her own, so she usually asked Oscar and Jack to do it.

He would go to the glass door between setups, where he could see Morris and Mike sitting in front of the couches and building together. Mike had been silent all day, but Morris never seemed to mind.

He finished setting up the table in his hands, immediately moving back to the door. He frowned when he saw that the pair were no longer building-didn’t seem to be in the room at all. He planned on going inside, to look for them, but Medda asked him to get the chairs.

He looked between her and the door and back again, torn between repaying their debts and going to find his brother.

Medda raised a brow at him. “Oscar? Is everything okay?”

He chewed at the inside of his cheek. He was supposed to be trusting Morris. Supposed to be letting him learn more independence.

He took a shaky breath. “It’s- it’s okay, Medda…”

Oscar tore himself from the door, going to grab stacks of chairs from the side of the yard. He had the stack halfway across the yard when Mike slid the door open.

“Mike, dear, the door,” Medda chided him, frowning when she was ignored entirely. “Miguel?”

Ike perked up at Mike’s name, looking up, finding nothing but panic in his face.

Mike, instead of going to Ike as everyone expected, went to Oscar. He tugged at his shirt and pointed inside and made frustrated grunts when others came up to tell him to calm down.

Oscar watched the way he moved for a second, recognized the agitated bounce in his feet.

“Mike, what happened to Mo?”

Mike just pointed more fervently toward the door, tugging at Oscar’s shirt.

He dropped the stack of chairs and started toward the door.

Oscar broke into a run when the scream rang out.

Morris’s head was pounding, and his arms were aching and screaming at him. His nails were scraping against himself, tearing up skin and opening old wounds. He was rocking, curled up as tightly as he could on the floor against the back wall, teeth clacking together, nails digging into his thighs.

The door swung open, making Morris whimper more, head slamming against the wall he was leaning against. “No, no, ‘m sorry I ain’t meant to-”

He screamed again as the person’s shadow moved over him.

“Momo, hey, ‘s me,” Os’s voice was soft, quiet, gentle. Morris knew it was bad. He knew that Os only talked to him like that when it was really bad.

“Os?” He whimpered, unmoving from his curled position, still scratching at his skin. “I’on know wha’ hap’ned- i’on know wha’ I done.”

“You ain’t done nothin’ Mo. You ain’t done nothin’ to them,” Os held his hands up, asking if he could touch Morris.

Morris dove into Os’s arms, clinging tightly to him as Os lifted him off the floor and out of the closet. He wasn’t watching, but he could hear Blink talking to Mush behind Os.

“-deserved it, Nick! He was makin’ fun of me! Mockin’ me eye an’-”

“So you locked him in a closet?!” Morris pressed closer to Oscar at the loudness of Mush’s voice. “Are you insane?! You lucky it weren’t worse, Lou! God! The kid could’a-”

“He ain’t no kid!”

“Yes he is!” Os shouted over them, holding tighter to Morris, who’s shaking bad enough to move both of them. “He jus’ as much a kid as you is! As Albert. As Racetrack. As Jack fucking Kelly.”

Os practically spat his name out, leaving it at Blink’s feet.

“C’mon, Mo, we’s leavin’,” Os told him, pulling back just far enough to peel his jacket off, wrapping it around Mo’s shoulders. “We goin’ outside to tell Mike an’ Medda bye, an’ we leavin’.”

Morris nodded, clinging tightly to Os as he was led outside, to Medda’s side. He hugged her tight, shying away from her worry over the fresh blood beneath his fingernails.

“Medda,” Os’s voice sounded harsh, angry, the way pa’s used to sound right before Morris would get locked up. “You either get them boys to leas’ see us ‘s people, or we ain’t comin’ back.”

Mike came up, clenching and unclenching his fists in the air, tilting his head in part of his and Morris’s unspoken language. Morris shook his head, and Mike chewed harder at his necklace. He held his hands up, and once again Morris shook his head. Mike deflated, but nodded. He knew what it was like to be overwhelmed, especially after bad stimuli.

Os helped get Morris all the way into the jacket, and brought him to the car, glaring darkly at Blink and Red on the way out, and Morris couldn’t help but wonder.

What had he done to deserve being put in the closet?

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