Fine I guess I'll write all the angst for this damn fandom

Coward

He was a coward.

He knew his father wasn't that great, and he knew of the blatant favoritism, and he knew he wasn't going to do anything about it because he was scared to.

He couldn't even attempt to fix his clearly suffering relationship with his family, because he was never even fucking home. He ate and slept and practically lived in The Order's clubroom, and what for?

Just so he could avoid his parents. Y'know, the ones that fed him and clothed him and gave him a place to call home, not just a place but a damn nice place, and he never really had to do anything. Other kids had chores and things like that, but no, Ted never really did anything around the house because the Huxleys had a maid to do that for them.

He wasn't special.

He wasn't useful.

He wasn't important.

So why was he here, acting like he was? Acting like he had anywhere near as much purpose as Felix, the literal future of their billion dollar company. He certainly shouldn't still be in the clubroom, feeling sorry for himself despite his privileged life.

So he left. The school was dark, of course, it being after hours. Luckily, the doors were only locked from the outside, so he was able to get out.

He looked up at the sky to try and gauge what time it was, (he had left his phone at home to avoid his parents contacting him) and his heart dropped.

The sky was dark, faint stars glittering in the distance, a limey green near the horizon, slowly transitioning to a deep teal, then to black. It was dusk.

It was a sight to behold, truly; a sight that would have made the five year old boy named Teddy gasp in wide-eyed wonder. But that boy was gone now, and in his wake stood a teenager who knew it was far too late to excuse his absence. But the school doors were locked from the outside, and there was no turning back unless he wanted to sleep on the grass.

And he didn't want to do that. Mostly because it wouldn't have been the first time.

So he headed home in the dark, remembering all the horror stories he'd heard about this very sort of thing. Mostly from the other twins, who have had quite a few near-kidnapping experiences that they only narrowly avoided because they were together.

But Ted was alone. He wasn't very strong, either, and he was only 14.

He pictured a dark scenario in which something happened to him on the trip home and nobody noticed, and tried to clear his brain of those thoughts. Surely his parents would realize he was gone, right?

But he never really did much of anything worth noting, so it was to be expected that...

But surely at least Felix would notice, right?

He shook his head. He wasn't going to get kidnapped regardless, so what was the point worrying about it?

After a long while which was thankfully uninterrupted, he arrived home, preparing himself for the imminent lecture. ('Lecture', that was what they called it. To him, the word sounded more like a simple stern talking-to than an angry bout of screaming, but what did he know?)

But it didn't arrive. Father was probably working on some complicated business thing with Felix, and Mother was hunched over at the table with a glass of wine in her hand, not the first and not the last, if Ted knew her. She didn't acknowledge him.

So he headed to his room, thankful for the lack of punishment, at least for tonight. He was tired, and it would be hard to get a rest if he had to try to calm himself down first so that he could actually breathe, all the while making sure he didn't let anything touch whatever part of him was bruised.

Father's office was close to the bedroom, close enough for him to hear some bits and pieces of the conversation. He knew it was improper to eavesdrop, but he was curious, and it wasn't like anyone was going to find out, anyway.

"Young man, have I not taught you the proper etiquette for dealing with potential business partners?"

"Yes, you have, sir."

"Then what, pray tell, was that?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I was simply-"

"No excuses, Felix."

"My apologies. Am I dismissed?"

"No. Now-"

That was when Ted stopped listening. He was already stressed from narrowly avoiding his own punishment, he didn't feel like listening in on Felix's. A part of him did, but he pushed that part of him deep down where it would hopefully never return.

But return it did, a forbidden and terrifyingly good-feeling joy, and at his very own brother's pain, no less!

This was a common occurrence. He supposed even Felix couldn't be perfect all the time, but that was what Father expected of him, and it was inevitable, what would happen if you didn't live up to Father's expectations.

And then there was that rush, perhaps the only emotion he felt that made him feel like a horrid person for feeling it. He should feel terrible for his brother's plight, and he did, but something inside him, something dark and cruel, thought of this as revenge for the suffering his brother had caused him.

But ultimately, that suffering was all because of Father, right? It wasn't Felix's fault he was never taught empathy, or how to handle emotions, so obviously he was going to be a bit cold at times.

He wasn't listening anymore, but that didn't stop him from hearing, and all the self-doubt that came from it was worse than any punishment Father could have thought up. After about ten minutes, he heard his brother's slow, tentative footsteps down the hall. Felix opened the door to the bedroom they still shared, and practically threw himself onto his bed, not bothering remove his shoes, or tie, or to drape his dark blue blanket over himself (as opposed to Ted's red one; the Huxleys really liked to color-code the two, it seemed) and let his emotions out in no more than a few choked, muffled sobs.

This was the point at which Ted expected the tiny spark of cruel joy to fade, but instead, it grew louder and louder, blotting out his thoughts and replacing them with good, that'll show him, maybe now he won't be such an asshole.

Rather than doing something about these thoughts, he instead ignored them, rolled over, and tried to sleep. Because of course he wasn't going to do anything. That was just so like him, wasn't it? He was always like that.

He was a coward.