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The Long Weekend	By : TimedWatcher Category: +S through Z > Weekenders, The Views: 11878 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weekenders, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I got hit hard I'm on the ground...
Through pinhole vision, he could see pockets of the blazing sun. Particles of black bounced everywhere and he couldn't move a muscle, like somebody had shotgunned his chest. The heat was cooking his mind. He could barely remember what happened. He couldn't even remember what he had for breakfast--but he could distinctly recall telling his mom to get that camera out of his face. It felt like the only thing clinging him awake was that cold, cold drink that had splattered around him like a crime scene.
Then from what felt like nowhere, blurry figures appeared, coming together in a piecemeal picture.
"That looked like it hurt." A blonde haired boy said dryly.
"I always thought Lor would unleash her fury one day. Glad it wasn't me." A black kid with frizzy hair with a high pitched voice added.
The girl in glasses was clicking the roof of her mouth and shaking her head at him. "Yup. This is why you don't fight a land war in Asia... or with Lor."
Three voices... three faces... he didn't feel like he could stand, but he was being raised against his own will.
"Where... where's Lor?" It came out in a more zombified groan.
"Gone. She took off after she decked you." Despite the daze, it all came back.
He was walking up a long cement path trying to get a feel for the place, but mainly wanting to get a Chug-A-Freeze. Where he came from they were called slushees. He had never been so close to a place that served them before, a novelty reserved for road trips. It was worth the quick trip back and forth to get one. To his surprise though on his way back, he saw Lor just standing there with folded arms, facing the opposite direction. Being the kind of guy he was, he snuck up on her and at the last second, he wrapped his arms around her while saying her name.
Then she threw the elbow.
He still felt limp in their grasp. Gordon hadn't felt this horrible since... since well, now. Not even the dodgeball incident from yesterday could compete. His face scrunched, eyes squinting, blurring in beads of light, still not wanting to pull his eyelids apart just yet. When he thought he could stand and put weight on himself, he had it for a moment, then he flew back into a wirey fence. There was a tingle then a burning sensation from the heat of the day accumulating in the metal. His mind kept telling his body to move, but it wouldn't budge.
"Guys, I don't think he's-" Before the girl in the glasses could finish, Gordon collapsed forward, being caught just in time by the two boys. Her hand ran over his head, he twinged at the touch of his lump. So did she. "I was afraid of this. Come on."
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In the medical room, he held an ice packet to the back of his skull. The nurse working said he had both a mild concussion and a bit of heat exhaustion, and would need to be monitored for awhile. Who knew that strike to his face would be the least of his worries?
"What happened between you two? We didn't even get to talk to Lor before she ran off." Tish asked... he had heard their names while they were taking him in.
"Somethin'... somethin'..." As his voice trailed, he stared off from the three of them, trying to remember. "Me and Lor..." Whatever moisture he could muster on his tongue, he swept across his lips, as he tried to say this the best possible way he could. "We went on a date."
All three in unison, guffawed.
"Lor? You mean thee Lor? You must be thinking of someone else." Tish asked, unbelieving.
"I'm not gonna say I don't believe it..." The black kid, Carver, thought for a second. "No. I don't believe it." He said, shaking his head.
Tino laughed off what Gordon had said before asking. "No, really. What did you do? Did you try to give her a wedgie or something?"
He pleaded his innocence. "Really. We had a date." They still looked like they didn't believe him, but he hoped the look on his face would be enough to give what he was saying credence.
"Let's say you two did have a... 'get together'." The inflection in Tish's voice was enough, her fingers didn't actually need to do the bunny ears as well. "Anything... interesting... happen?" Gordon gulped. He didn't have the tan necessary to hide a blush if one were to come on.
More than you'll ever know.
"We had a... good time." That sounded awful. What the hell could he tell them? "Look... it's embarrassing, okay? If you saw us yesterday, her attacking me like that doesn't make sense." He almost recoiled at himself after realising what he'd just said. The mental picture of somebody other than Lor seeing him naked wasn't pretty. "Has she ever hit anybody before? I mean like... by accident?"
"In hockey, basketball..." Tish counted off the sports she played with his fingers.
"In football, soccer..." Carver continued off where Tino left.
"Plenty of times." Tino finished for the two of them. "Outside of sports though? Never."
What? How could it be... intentional? His stomach twisted--worse than both times she hit him. "But she was smiling at me..." His voice cracked, his throat dry as a desert, his soul trapped in one.
"Hey. Don't take it personally. We've been on Lor's bad side before - and she lets up." Tish said, her tone a little less insinuating than before. Had she heard the sadness in his voice? He wasn't wanting pity, it just came out that way.
"Or maybe you should take it personally - cause she's never hit us." Carver, raised his hand, then put it down when Tish turned, giving him a look.
"I'll be honest. You don't really seem her type. She's more into older guys... like Thompson Oberman." Gordon felt like he had nowhere to turn, attacked on all sides. What the hell happened that night? What did it mean if she didn't like him?
"I just want to see her again..." He reached up for his eyes.
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Sat in a corner, the boy lay crumpled on the nurses table, looking utterly defeated. The three preteens gathered outside of his vision, although that wasn't hard to do.
"Well. I've done my good deed for the day. Funville, Carv?" He nodded in agreement, and as if on cue, Tish butt in, standing in their way. Tino was apprehensive. "Oh no. You look like you've got that 'I can do anything if I set my mind to it' look on your face."
"Man, I hate that look. It's the one she had when she was helping me study on my last test." Carver spat, his finger trying to ring out his ear. "You don't know how loud she can yell."
"Didn't you get a B+ on that?" Tino enquired with a raised eyebrow.
Carver threw up a hand in frustration. "I know! Now my parents expect it from everything I do!"
Tish frowned at the two of them with hands on her hips. "Oh, I'm sorry if I want to know why one of my best friends has left someone a crying and hurt mess!"
They looked to eachother, then to her. "So why don't you just, you know, ASK Lor?"
"Yeah!"
Tish rolled her eyes. "I don't want him anywhere near Lor -- not until I find out what happened between them. I need one of you to look after him and to not let him out of your sights."
"NOT IT!" Carver declared as quickly as Tish finished that sentence.
Tino nearly flipped "No way! You know I'm not a good Not It'er! Come on! Let me flip for it!"
Carver looked proud, as he adjusted his shirt collar. "As the greats say, 'You snoozeth, you loseth!'" Carver shrugged. "Besides, my dad is finally going to let me use his PDA, and I don't think he'd let me if, you know" Carver banked his head back, voice a little lower "He was around."
Tino sucked on his teeth. "Oh alright - but if he does anything weird, it's on the two of you." Tino folded his arms. "I don't even know the kid. What am I supposed to even talk about?" Tino went from his downturned look to a far more fakey chipper one as he turned. "Hey Gordon!" Tino said with a familiar faux gooberness.
With a wiping of his face, Gordon looked up with eyes wide open, more lucid than before, a glint of a tear reflecting.
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Gordon and Tino walked silently side by side. As if having been on a long journey together where they had nothing more to say to one another. Tino seemed to tolerate Gordon's existence well enough, while Gordon followed like a voodoo zombie, unsure of his destination.
He thought about Lor - he didn't want to - but what the hell else was he gonna do? Yet replaying the events in his head didn't help matters, it actually kind of made things worse.
Why was it so damn hot?
Even with the ice bag pressed to the back of his head, the heat felt unbearable. He pulled on the elastic of his collar, the material peeling from his chest, before flapping some cool air into his face. As he let it fall back, Tino seemed to shift, changing direction. Following him up the stairs of a nondescript suburban home, Tino unlocked and opened the front door to his place like a non-event.
He was just going through copied motions as he stepped through the threshold, a new sensation joined his others of pain and regret: that of nervousness in being in someone elses home. He thought he'd have gotten better at the whole first impressions thing with the constant moving he did -- but nope. Things like, was it a "pro or anti shoes in the house" kind of house... where was it okay to sit? Was food out in the open on a table okay to eat? Do I have to be under constant supervision? Do I have to wear my jacket or could I hang it somewhere? Can you stay up late or is it a strict curfew at ten?
Do you love me or do you do hate me, Lor?
He ground his teeth a little.
First impressions sucked.
In the living room, Tino was already to one knee, Gordon watching him fumble with the console. Turning it on for a second, he waited for a response from the screen, then popped out the cartridge. On reflex he blew into the underside before sticking it back in and turning it back on. Tino could tell it worked somehow as he grabbed the wire and pulled the weighted end of the controller towards himself and then crashed onto the couch. Could he do that? Or did he not have the privilege yet? He squished the now warming goop that was contained within the silver plastic as his eyes wandered around the home. Nice and tidy.
Yup.
Like a tree in a living room when it wasn't Christmas, Gordon stood awkward - hoping for some way to gauge what to do. Tino, despite already nearly being at the end of couch, motioned and moved, signaling that there was room for one more. Gordon shuffled a little as he went for it. He did his best to sit as far and to the other side of the couch as he could go, while trying to distract himself with the game about to be played. That's when the 16-bit rendition of the theme song hit him like Lor did. He covered his smile with his hand as fast as he could, not wanting to let on that he was a Captain Dreadnought fan, let alone the fact that he had rented and played this very entry.
Gordon watched in the only way a backseat gamer like him could: nearly biting his nails as he silently judged the actions of Tino's play style. Gordon tried his best to seem unimpressed, but Tino knew the warps, the hidden item pick ups, the best ways to get extra guys. His eyes flicked over to Tino, seeing that stiff but familiar look of determination.
There was something else now, like every bad moment of the day had fallen away. His posture melted like the icepack, his spine didn't tingle with hair raising goosebumps, and his throbbing head pain didn't seem so bad now. He hadn't done this in awhile - just watch a buddy play video games... well, maybe they could be friends.
He breathed.
"Can I tell ya something?"
Tino had that usual gamer, 'slow to react', kind of response "Sure."
"I like the 90's Dreadnaught series."
The game instantly froze, going into a item selection screen. Tino turning to Gordon like he couldn't believe what he just said. "Are you serious!?" His squeaky voice came in to full spectrum when he was excited.
"Yeah. I mean. I know he didn't use his gun all that much thanks to censors, but I thought they translated a lot of the stories well. Especially the clone arc. Plus that voice cast was brilliant. Whenever I read the comics now, I can hear that dudes voice in my head whenever Dreadnought's talking."
"Nearly perfect. Need I remind you that Das Squirm was way off."
Gordon looked shocked. "Dude, are you kidding? I always thought of him as a British dude with the way they described him as being very regal."
Tino countered. "I've always heard him as one of those well off white suited guys from the south just because of his love for lemonade."
Gordon shook his head. "That depends on the writer. Sometimes it's lemon tea, sometimes it's lemonade."
Gordon felt like such a dork knowing so much about the comic. Then again he wasn't alone. He and Tino went on and on about the TV series, the comics, who was the better artist: Mason or Hill, his best side kicks, how dumb the live action movie was, etc
"Dinner's ready." A woman in a pink sweater made her presence known. How long had Tino and him been talking? Guess awhile, since his head barely hurt now.
Tino flagged her down. "Hey wait. Mom, this is Gordon. Is it okay if he could stay and eat? Maybe even stay the night?"
Gordon jumped in his seat on reflex, wanting to shake her hand, but knew that was an idiot move, and sat back down proper before just waving, feeling better at the sly smirk of the older woman. "Sure. I always make extra on the weekends."
"I wish you wouldn't. I lose more friends that way than to polio." Tino kvetched.
"Shoot. You revealed the secret ingredient." She hit back with a flat and monotone delivery. "Now the guest has to be eliminated -- you know the rules Tino." She said before heading off.
"I'd say enjoy your last meal, but that's medically impossible." Tino quipped while hopping up from the couch, following his mother. Gordon did likewise.
Taking his place across from an empty seat with Tino to his right. He sat upright, trying to get a look what was being plated, as he was feeling kind of hungry. Besides breakfast and a quarter of a slushee, he hadn't digested much today. The plate clinked against the table as the food was served, and...
It was a bubbling pink froth. That was the best way he could describe it. Gordon eyes widened, his jaw almost unhinging as he looked to Tino absolutely aghast. Tino gave Gordon a knowing look - Tino already knew it was bad, but tried to get him to play it cool, so he wouldn't make his shocked reaction verbal. He picked up a spoon, attempting to scoop it up. "Uh, thanks for the dinner Mrs..."
"Tonitini. Miss Tonitini... and you don't eat it with a spoon."
The color in Gordon's face drained.
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The rest of the night was spent in Tino's room. He seemed... preoccupied, to say the least. Tinos eyes falling onto a cordless phone he had brought up to the room. Mentioning seldomly that he had to check his email. Besides that, it was fun, as he turned Tino onto a fan site with downloadable clips of the Captain Dreadnought show. The videos were postage sized, choppy and artifacted, but he and Tino grinned through all of them... way past their bedtimes.
Hammering back the rest of a now warm cola in a vain attempt to get the taste of dinner off his palette, he watched as Tino reached for the light on his lamp, then fall back into bed. Gordon re-secured himself into the borrowed sleeping bag. "Can I tell you something?" Gordon asked, as he stared at the ceiling between slower and slower blinks.
"Do I gotta listen?" There was silence - until Tino followed up with "I'm not usually a spill your guts kinda guy, but go for it."
"I thought moving here was gonna be awful--just another town where I'm gonna be a blip of nothing and nobody would remember me even being here... then, Lor introduced herself..." Gordon froze. His fingers dug deep into his eyes.
"You're not gonna start crying again, are you?" Gordon almost smiled, not at what was said, but how Tino had said it.
He pulled them back. "No... it's just... How we met wasn't exactly perfect, but she left an impression on me, but... now... she nearly kills me. I don't get it."
Tino shifted, moving off the covers and sitting up and turning towards Gordon. "You know, it's not like I'm one of her best friends or anything, buuuuuut, maybe you just came on a teensy bit too strong." HE came on a 'teensy' bit too strong!? He remembered what happened, he never asked her to do... that! - but she did it anyway! To him! To him of all people! He experienced things he still can't even say the names of without either giggling or blushing. Lor's touch, her mouth, her body, her heat, her heart beat... Those memories resonated like phantoms. Tino continued. "I don't know what you two did, but maybe it meant more to you than it did her. I know Lor well enough to say she's done some dumb things that she later regretted. I've been on the receiving end of her inability to commit to stuff she promised to do. So has Carver. Even Tish."
Regret. That was the word that burned like a burning plasma cannon shot from Dreadnaught's arsenal. What if... what if... he was her moment of regret? He pictured Lor waking in a daze after that night. Gagging. Running to the bathroom. Sick to her stomach as she tries to brush him away from her mouth and her head. He contracted inward, just wanting to fall asleep.
Just before he did, he shot up his arm. "Oh, and Tino... thanks for listening."
"Whatever. Night."
His body settled. Sleeping on the floor wasn't the greatest, but, at the same time, it was open... lot of free space... stretch anyway you want...
Fwrrrsh...
Something nuzzled against his face.
Fwrrrrrrrrsh...
It did it again.
Forcing his eyes open, a tide of beach foam kissed against his lips.
Pink... fuzzy... beach foam.
Gordon stood solitary.
Alone.
With only a palm tree at his back. The tide touched down as icy, chilled water hit his feet, his toes clenched deep into the soiled sand, as clumps of it stuck between. His tiny land mass couldn't have been bigger than a throw rug in all this expanse of fuschia colored sea. He stared above to the purple sunset, but his world was boxed in at four corners... yet the ocean extended far and wide beyond the indents of the borders.
Even if he could fly like the bird whose squawk just echoed - by land, sea and air, he was trapped.
Morbidly, he thought that there was indeed a way off. His eyes focusing on the spot he'd dive in and never surface from -- but the spot began to swirl and change, revealing a completely dry middle. Emerging from the depth stood a tall, nubile blonde - her body mature in all the right ways - her skin pale, flawless, with fully developed and peachy colored breasts. With only a hand across her heart, she did little to cover her Eve like beauty. The water didn't even ripple under her dainty toed feet, her strides inviting. Yet despite her perfection, he couldn't pull himself away from her eyes.
Then it clicked: It was Lor.
He wasn't sure how he felt at first. He got his gut instinct answer when she approached. Gordon prepared himself for the kiss he thought was to come as she stood before him, but instead this embodiment of Lor sliced by his face and to his ear, before she whispered something. She said, "Nothing seems the same." and, "I can't change a thing. My body's like a wave, breaking to the sea."
Gordon had to know what that meant, but like his real hopes for an answer from Lor, he too was about to be dashed here as well. On the horizon, a towering tidal wave began pushing its way towards his island. He nearly leapt.
He should have, because that was only thing he could do. He couldn't run. He couldn't hide. He could only stand there and take the brunt of it.
Gordon closed his eyes.
His head hurt, his stomach ached, he barely had any sleep and his legs were restless
He had tossed and turned, but as he couldn't manage going back to sleep, he brought his knees to his chest, before he started rocking back and forth, unable to check out. Every part of him was firing, he just couldn't shut down.
He was miserable
Gordon rose up, before speedily walking to Tino's door. As he placed his hand on the door knob, he looked back to the sleeping boy for a second, before Gordon creaked it open and went downstairs.
Pacing.
He sat down on a couch. Then stood up. Then sat back down. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to tear off his shirt because of the burning in his brain, but kept it on because of the cold that chilled his insides.
His stomach churned.
He knew what to do.
Leaning over the sink, it felt like he had reached down past his lips, over his gums and down to his stomach, before ripping his hand back out as he vomited the pink slurry onto the stainless steel sink. It burned, but he felt so much better as it all landed in weak and wet slaps, before coagulating. The last thing he remembered was running some water until he couldn't smell it anymore, then collapsing onto a long yellow couch, burying his face into the softness.
He just hoped he wouldn't drool anytime soon.
Maybe I should get some sleep, I got a big day ahead, of forgetting about you
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The Long Weekend