Fanfiction: Heroes: Lessons In Literature and People
Title: Lessons In Literature and People
Author: superkappa
Prompt: Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.
-Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger for sylelle_chall
Characters/Pairing: Gabriel/Elle
Rating: PG-13
Warnings (spoilers): Underage drinking, possibly triggering material.
Summary: AU. Gabriel hates pretty much everyone, especially the people he goes to school with. And then he meets Elle. Elle is real. A little too real.
A/N: This fic went a lot of places I didn’t expect it to, and I’m not even entirely sure it’s good, but I’m glad I was about to actually get something written. Thanks goes to bellonablack for betaing.
There are two types of kids who read Catcher in the Rye in high school. One group thinks it’s overrated and a waste of time. They claim Holden Caunfield is just a whiner. Emo before there it was even a term. The other group sees things a little different. They can relate to Holden, understand his frustration with a world of phonies. They, too, long to really connect with someone, to make love to someone like playing a violin. They long to create beautiful music with someone special even if they would never admit it. The book is one of the few they enjoyed reading for school because the protagonist was actually someone they could relate to.
Gabriel Gray belongs to that second group. His copy of the book is worn; he’s read it so many times. He is sitting on a bench, planning on reading straight through to the end when a pretty blonde girl popping her gum sits down next to him.
Never tell anyone anything, the book warns him. Or you’ll start to miss everyone.
If only he had listened. Books are more trustworthy than girls. He learns that by the end.
-
She sits down and chews her gum loudly, glancing over his shoulder occasionally at what he’s reading. She does this for several days before she finally catches his attention. It’s the fifth time she’s sat down next to him during one of their breaks.
“You know, most guys would have hit on me about ten different times by now,” she comments, peering over his shoulder. “Or are you some kind of closet case or something? Maybe you’d like me better if I was a boy?”
Gabriel snorts at that, looking somewhat offended. “No. I’m not like that.”
“Then what are you like? Do you like to fuck books or something?”
He places his book down now, his face contorted in disgust. “What’s wrong with you?”
She just giggles at that. “Do you want the short list or the long one?”
“Both,” he finds himself saying without a second thought. She was interesting. She seems so much more real than anyone else he knew.
“Wanna come over to my house?” she asks with an enigmatic grin as she plucks the book out of his hands. She leans in to whisper into his ear. “My father isn’t going to be home today. He’s out on business all week.”
He should say no. He knows better. He’s smarter than to go home with a girl like her. Girls like her are nothing but trouble. Her blonde hair, short skirt, tight top, and eyes filled with mischief are all signs that he should say no.
And yet, when he opens his mouth, just one word comes out:
“Yes.”
-
“So are you a wine guy or a beer guy?” she asks as they walk into her house.
It’s large, much larger than the two-room apartment Gabriel lives in with his mother. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen a home this nice before. He’s still taking in the atmosphere and finds himself a little taken aback from her house that he almost doesn’t hear her question. He blinks a little in confusion at it.
“What do you mean?”
Elle just laughs as if he had asked some kind of silly question. “Usually, when I have company over, we get drunk. Daddy’s never home enough to notice anything missing. So what do you want? Beer or wine?”
He hesitates. Other than a glass of wine here or there at holidays, Gabriel has never drunken much, and he’s only really had a glass of wine here and there during the holidays. He never saw the appeal. But maybe it would be okay. He doesn’t want to disappoint her, and he doesn’t know why. He barely knows her, but if he blows it now, that’s never going to change. Finally, he gives her his answer.
“Wine.”
A couple of glasses won’t do him any harm, right?
-
It ends up being more like a couple of bottles. They are lying on her bed floor, and their clothes are mussed from fooling around earlier.
“So you fix watches?” she asks with a curious brow, resting her head on his shoulder now.
“Yes. My father taught me how when I was a kid, I’ve always liked to take things apart, see how they work.”
“The same father who abandoned you and your mom?” Elle’s voice comes out judgmental and unsympathetic. “Why the hell would you want to carry out his trade?”
He flinches at her tone. He had told her more about himself than he had ever told anyone. He told her about how his father went out for cigarettes and then never came back. He told her about how his mother fell apart and probably would have killed herself if he hadn’t stuck around. Things he never thought he would tell anyone. But he can trust Elle. He barely knows her, but he knows he can trust her, somehow. She’s real. She says what’s on her mind. She’s not a phony like everyone else.
“It’s something I’m good at. I can make decent money this way.” And support himself and his mother. That’s all that really matters. Well, it isn’t actually, but he tries to tell himself it is.
“But is it what you want? What about what you told me before?” she asks, climbing into his lap.
She wraps her arms around his neck. He’d like to blame the sudden wave of heat on the alcohol, but he’s pretty sure it’s more than just that. Elle leans in to whisper into his ear. “Don’t you want to be special?”
“I do.” But it’s not that simple. He wants to explain but he can’t. How many times has he thought of quitting school and go on the road, escaping all the fake people in his life and finding his own path? Too many to count.
“You shouldn’t give up on yourself. Promise me you won’t.”
She must be drunk, he figures, because they don’t know one another nearly well enough to be making these sorts of promises, these sorts of commitments. So he just evades her words and changes the subject. “And what about you? I’ve told you everything about me and you’ve told me nothing. He presses a kiss against her neck. “What is it that you want?”
“Nothing. Not anymore.”
He doesn’t question that answer as she presses her lips against him and they end up making love on her floor. They make beautiful music together but that’s not what he remembers the most from that night. What he remembers are those haunting words.
Nothing. Not anymore.
-
After that day he spent at her house, he stops seeing her at school. He stops by her house a week later to see if she’s okay. When he knocks on the door, a balding man with a put upon expression answers. “May I help you?”
It must be her father, Gabriel figures. But he doesn’t let the man know he intimidates him. “Is Elle home? She hasn’t been in school in a week.” Not since they slept together, though he doesn’t say that part out loud. He isn’t stupid.
“Elle killed herself a week ago.” The man pauses. “Do you know Gabriel? She left something for him.”
“I’m Gabriel.”
The man hands him a package. He doesn’t open it until he gets home. It’s a copy of Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger. Bookmarked is the story A Perfect Day For Banana Fish.
He gets the joke but it isn’t funny.
-
Soon after that, Gabriel’s grades begin to drop. He fights with teachers and just feels edgier, more restless. He can’t just sit back and deal with things the way he used to. He tells his mother off one night when she prattles on and on about how she wishes he would apply to college and then he leaves. He packs up his meager possessions and leaves.
He’s not sure what he’s looking for or what he’s going to do, but he knows two things:
He’s going to be special.
And he’s never going to tell anyone anything real about himself again.
He already misses her too much, and he can’t go through that a second time.
He just can’t.
He won’t.
Author: superkappa
Prompt: Don't ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.
-Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger for sylelle_chall
Characters/Pairing: Gabriel/Elle
Rating: PG-13
Warnings (spoilers): Underage drinking, possibly triggering material.
Summary: AU. Gabriel hates pretty much everyone, especially the people he goes to school with. And then he meets Elle. Elle is real. A little too real.
A/N: This fic went a lot of places I didn’t expect it to, and I’m not even entirely sure it’s good, but I’m glad I was about to actually get something written. Thanks goes to bellonablack for betaing.
There are two types of kids who read Catcher in the Rye in high school. One group thinks it’s overrated and a waste of time. They claim Holden Caunfield is just a whiner. Emo before there it was even a term. The other group sees things a little different. They can relate to Holden, understand his frustration with a world of phonies. They, too, long to really connect with someone, to make love to someone like playing a violin. They long to create beautiful music with someone special even if they would never admit it. The book is one of the few they enjoyed reading for school because the protagonist was actually someone they could relate to.
Gabriel Gray belongs to that second group. His copy of the book is worn; he’s read it so many times. He is sitting on a bench, planning on reading straight through to the end when a pretty blonde girl popping her gum sits down next to him.
Never tell anyone anything, the book warns him. Or you’ll start to miss everyone.
If only he had listened. Books are more trustworthy than girls. He learns that by the end.
-
She sits down and chews her gum loudly, glancing over his shoulder occasionally at what he’s reading. She does this for several days before she finally catches his attention. It’s the fifth time she’s sat down next to him during one of their breaks.
“You know, most guys would have hit on me about ten different times by now,” she comments, peering over his shoulder. “Or are you some kind of closet case or something? Maybe you’d like me better if I was a boy?”
Gabriel snorts at that, looking somewhat offended. “No. I’m not like that.”
“Then what are you like? Do you like to fuck books or something?”
He places his book down now, his face contorted in disgust. “What’s wrong with you?”
She just giggles at that. “Do you want the short list or the long one?”
“Both,” he finds himself saying without a second thought. She was interesting. She seems so much more real than anyone else he knew.
“Wanna come over to my house?” she asks with an enigmatic grin as she plucks the book out of his hands. She leans in to whisper into his ear. “My father isn’t going to be home today. He’s out on business all week.”
He should say no. He knows better. He’s smarter than to go home with a girl like her. Girls like her are nothing but trouble. Her blonde hair, short skirt, tight top, and eyes filled with mischief are all signs that he should say no.
And yet, when he opens his mouth, just one word comes out:
“Yes.”
-
“So are you a wine guy or a beer guy?” she asks as they walk into her house.
It’s large, much larger than the two-room apartment Gabriel lives in with his mother. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen a home this nice before. He’s still taking in the atmosphere and finds himself a little taken aback from her house that he almost doesn’t hear her question. He blinks a little in confusion at it.
“What do you mean?”
Elle just laughs as if he had asked some kind of silly question. “Usually, when I have company over, we get drunk. Daddy’s never home enough to notice anything missing. So what do you want? Beer or wine?”
He hesitates. Other than a glass of wine here or there at holidays, Gabriel has never drunken much, and he’s only really had a glass of wine here and there during the holidays. He never saw the appeal. But maybe it would be okay. He doesn’t want to disappoint her, and he doesn’t know why. He barely knows her, but if he blows it now, that’s never going to change. Finally, he gives her his answer.
“Wine.”
A couple of glasses won’t do him any harm, right?
-
It ends up being more like a couple of bottles. They are lying on her bed floor, and their clothes are mussed from fooling around earlier.
“So you fix watches?” she asks with a curious brow, resting her head on his shoulder now.
“Yes. My father taught me how when I was a kid, I’ve always liked to take things apart, see how they work.”
“The same father who abandoned you and your mom?” Elle’s voice comes out judgmental and unsympathetic. “Why the hell would you want to carry out his trade?”
He flinches at her tone. He had told her more about himself than he had ever told anyone. He told her about how his father went out for cigarettes and then never came back. He told her about how his mother fell apart and probably would have killed herself if he hadn’t stuck around. Things he never thought he would tell anyone. But he can trust Elle. He barely knows her, but he knows he can trust her, somehow. She’s real. She says what’s on her mind. She’s not a phony like everyone else.
“It’s something I’m good at. I can make decent money this way.” And support himself and his mother. That’s all that really matters. Well, it isn’t actually, but he tries to tell himself it is.
“But is it what you want? What about what you told me before?” she asks, climbing into his lap.
She wraps her arms around his neck. He’d like to blame the sudden wave of heat on the alcohol, but he’s pretty sure it’s more than just that. Elle leans in to whisper into his ear. “Don’t you want to be special?”
“I do.” But it’s not that simple. He wants to explain but he can’t. How many times has he thought of quitting school and go on the road, escaping all the fake people in his life and finding his own path? Too many to count.
“You shouldn’t give up on yourself. Promise me you won’t.”
She must be drunk, he figures, because they don’t know one another nearly well enough to be making these sorts of promises, these sorts of commitments. So he just evades her words and changes the subject. “And what about you? I’ve told you everything about me and you’ve told me nothing. He presses a kiss against her neck. “What is it that you want?”
“Nothing. Not anymore.”
He doesn’t question that answer as she presses her lips against him and they end up making love on her floor. They make beautiful music together but that’s not what he remembers the most from that night. What he remembers are those haunting words.
Nothing. Not anymore.
-
After that day he spent at her house, he stops seeing her at school. He stops by her house a week later to see if she’s okay. When he knocks on the door, a balding man with a put upon expression answers. “May I help you?”
It must be her father, Gabriel figures. But he doesn’t let the man know he intimidates him. “Is Elle home? She hasn’t been in school in a week.” Not since they slept together, though he doesn’t say that part out loud. He isn’t stupid.
“Elle killed herself a week ago.” The man pauses. “Do you know Gabriel? She left something for him.”
“I’m Gabriel.”
The man hands him a package. He doesn’t open it until he gets home. It’s a copy of Nine Stories by J.D. Salinger. Bookmarked is the story A Perfect Day For Banana Fish.
He gets the joke but it isn’t funny.
-
Soon after that, Gabriel’s grades begin to drop. He fights with teachers and just feels edgier, more restless. He can’t just sit back and deal with things the way he used to. He tells his mother off one night when she prattles on and on about how she wishes he would apply to college and then he leaves. He packs up his meager possessions and leaves.
He’s not sure what he’s looking for or what he’s going to do, but he knows two things:
He’s going to be special.
And he’s never going to tell anyone anything real about himself again.
He already misses her too much, and he can’t go through that a second time.
He just can’t.
He won’t.