Slow Changes (Whizzvin)

Part II. Jason Helping Whizzer

Whizzer didn't know how to deal with everything happening. He was crying on his bed until there was a knock from a small child he knew as his future stepson. At least, he thought he would always be with Marvin.

Warning: Mentions of abuse, mentions of slurs, mentions of cheating, mentions of drinking

Whizzer's Point of View: March 27th, 1979. 4:00pm.

There I was. Laying in my bed after he had just hurt my leg! I rolled my eyes. I mean like at least he didn't hurt me that bad. But he ruined my pants! The edge of the suitcase was like really sharp and it dug into my pants and then I started bleeding so now my new pants are stained and torn. I'm now eating vanilla ice cream like a teenager.

I get a knock at the door and run to it, hoping it's a friend or someone and to my surprise it's one of the best people ever. "Hi, Whizzer!!" Jason says, hugging me. He can only hug my stomach, though. He's just that adorably short. "Hi, Jason! How's my best friend doing?" I ruffled his hair. "I'm doing good! I brought you some chocolate that we can share." How did Trina even let him come over here?

"Dad told me about... What happened, Whizzer." He hugged me. I just pat his head until he eventually lets go. "Jason, honey, we don't have to talk about that." It's fine if he wants me to talk about it, but he's 10. I don't think he needs to hear about his father calling me a slur. "Whizzer, I'm mature! I'm 10 now! Double digits."

I sigh. "Well, your father's never been the best to me. But it's okay! At least I got to meet you, Jason." He looks at me, telling me to cut the bullshit by the way he was glaring. "Okay! Well me and your dad got in a fight because he lost at chess. And he then got really, really mad at me and kicked me out and called me a f-f- I'm not even going to say it. And he threw a suitcase at me and it gave me this really weird bruise." I cringe from the pain.

"My dad seems very mean! You're really nice! You would make a great dad." Jason always prefers me over Marvin and I can see why. Marvin always took him to art museums, not bothering to see what Jason wanted to do. Can't believe I stayed with him for 10 months. "What're you thinking about, Whizzer?" Jason smiled at me. He's a really sweet kid. "I'm thinking about that chocolate! Do you have any with strawberry filling?" He nods. "Of course! I know it's your favourite." He opens the box and takes out all the coconut ones, knowing they would remind me of Marvin. Jason in general reminds me of a younger Marvin.

He hands me the 3 strawberry cream ones and I pop them in my mouth. "Thanks, Jason." I say with a mouth full of sweets. "So, you've still been learning Latin, right?" I ask, wanting to be on a more happy conversation subject. "Ita!" I pat his head. "That means yes, right?" I recalled him answering some questions with that. "Duh." He smiled and took off his backpack, pulling out a chess board.

"I'll let you win!" I sigh. "Don't let me win, Jason. Last time someone said that- They took it back and kicked me out of their house and back to this shitty apartment. Sorry for swearing-" I cover my mouth. "Mom says that stuff all the time!" I giggle. He begins to unroll the chess board and set the board up. Who the fuck can remember that order? It's shortest to tallest and symmetrical. Who can remember that?

Jason, of course, knows the four move checkmate so when he moves a pawn out twice in front of his king, I'm not surprised. Then, when he beats my ass 5 seconds later at this game, I cannot possibly be less surprised. "So how's Mendel doing? Are you still going to therapy?" He nods, enthusiastically. "He puts everything in cool ways I can understand! He taught me this really cool coping mechanism."

I smile, curious about the coping mechanism. I need a coping mechanism. "See, you look around and see no one's yelling at you. So you feel alright! And then you can feel alright for that amount of time, so why can't you feel alright for the rest of your life?" It seems like a weird coping mechanism, but I'll make note to try it. "Well that's super cool!" He motions to the board. "One more round?" He asks. "One more round."

Of course, when you play chess with Jason it isn't just "one more round", it's 20 rounds. It gets into the night and you can still tell he's being easy on you with this war game. He lets you pick your colour, no matter how much of an advantage the board has on each side. Then you pick the colour he chose last round and try to mirror his moves, but he still beats you.

"Does your school do chess tournaments? And who taught you how to play?" I wanted him to talk about something he felt enthusiastical about. "My school does chess tournaments for the gifted kids and Marvin taught me how to play when it was family night. Mom was there and we were having hot cocoa, but this was back when we were all super duper happy! So dad wants to play chess, but me and mom don't know how. So he teaches us."

I have to admit, I never knew Marvin as the type to show his kid how to play chess, but old Marvin was much nicer. He was a bit self centered when we got together. (Okay, he was very self centered.) He always did seem very family oriented with his "Oh I can't leave my family because I don't want them to-" He annoyed me. And then he constantly drank. Daily. 10+ beers a day. "Hey, Jason, it's getting kinda late so maybe it's best to head on back to your dad's and get some sleep!" And with a goodbye and a hug, he leaves.

At least he left the chocolates.

A/N: Happy pride month, guys! Anyways word count is 1059. Have fun and stay safe. I'll try to update this daily.