Secrets We Hide Behind Smiles Wide

Brother Drop-Off

( Author's note, sorry-

I have a few content warning's (for this story as a whole, not just this first chapter) that I want to make sure everyone gets to see- and then we'll be good to go.

This story has some heavier themes, including:

(Previous) death of parents. (Uncle Ben, Harley's Mom, Peter's Parents).

A Toxic Teenage romance (NOT Peter/Harley, this fic isn't a romance for them at all anyway but if it was they'd be super healthy) that ends with some physical abuse and teenage pregnancy. (Neither of the boys will be the one being abusive or fathering the child.)

Mental health disorders including: depression, anxiety, PTSD, and potentially light hints of an undefined eating disorder.

Infertility.

Struggles with a previous addiction to alcohol.

If any of these are potentially triggering to you, then I want to thank you so much for clicking on this fic, but I'd prefer if you left and read something that will help you feel better:) I promise I won't mind- you deserve to be happy and feel good.

That being said, I promise that my goal is to handle these problems with a realistic but a heartwarming vibe. I don't want this to be the story of how the weight of the world broke two kids. I want it to be the story where two kids come together to help each other heal from how they've been hurt.

Anyway, I'm sorry for talking too much, thank you very much for reading! Have a good day! )

Harley's first awareness, besides his blaring alarm, was Phineas Flynn-Fletcher's voice singing in his living room. He groaned, grabbed the pillow from underneath his head, and shoved it on top to muffle the sound. He used to like Phineas and Ferb. Used too. The first seven times they'd watched it all the way through.

They were on eleven now. Eleven times since last christmas. If they made it to twelve he was going to start seriously considering shooting the tv.

Harley fumbled blindly for his still-beeping phone. His hand smacked against it a few times before he sighed and awkwardly felt around it for the off button.

"Shush... too loud..." He muttered, his voice slurring with last night's crap sleep. Man, he'd trade his spleen for some good sleep.

Silence. Sweet- merciful silence!

Almost.

Except for the muffled 'gitchie gitchie goo'.

Okay, fine. He was up.

***

The gremlin sat criss-cross applesauce on the floor in front of her chair like a complete heathen. Why did he even bother to move the chair from the kitchen if she never used it? He could have left the kitchen chairs actually at the kitchen table! They could have pretended to be civilized people! But no, he'd moved the chairs to the living room so she could have a backrest as she sat on the floor to watch tv. He felt a shiver of pain stab his neck in sympathy at the awkward angle she was craning her neck to see the TV. Why. Just- why?! Did she not feel pain??

She hadn't noticed him yet, and that was too golden an opportunity for him to ignore. He silently slid Potato Gun 3.5 off of the small table by the door. Getting it ready to shoot made a great deal more noise. But she didn't hear him anyway, still too transfixed with Phineas and Ferb.