A/N: JTHM fans (if any)- no need to freak out or anything. I'll still be writing about my favorite homicidal maniac, and even posting a Johnny fic as I post chapters to this. I live!

For anyone who has decided to actually read this ranting evil drivel, let it be known, this story has a slight A/U. Disregard the 'Seeing Red' ep completely, and anything else that doesn't 'go along' with things in the fic. Also, there's probably an OOC factor in here with MANY of the characters, most of all, angry, little Terrence. I like his anger. It makes me giggle like some pre-pubescent school girl.

I never said I was good at writing.

WARNING: OOC-ness and slight A/U. Also, there is cussing. There, done.

Disclaimer: I don't own a 'darn' thing.

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Terra Incognita

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Chapter 1: Watching the awkward ice break

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I wear this crown of shit

Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts

I cannot repair

-Hurt, NIN

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"So what did you do today in school? Anything interesting?"

"Not really," she answered, setting down her backpack on the steps leading up to their apartment building. "Nothing exciting anyway. We did draw today, though..."

"Lemme see."

She nodded, blushing slightly, and pulled something out of her bag. It was folded up carefully, as if it held all the wisdom of the world packaged away inside, and she handed it to him, her rosy cheeks getting pinker and pinker as he held it up to gaze upon.

"Is that me?" he asked, sounding a bit bashful, a delighted grin spreading out across his face. She nodded, smiling wide and pointed to another part of the picture, clearly excited. "And that's you," he replied to her silent outburst. "Holding my hand," he added, running his hand through his messy hair, a small addition to the many other strange flaws he held.

That alone might've detoured her feelings for him, if it had not been for the fact that that was her fault. The ragged clothes, the crooked teeth, even his somewhat dorky laugh: all that was from her. After all, that was how brothers were supposed to look; she'd seen them portrayed that way almost everywhere she went and almost everything she saw. TV, posters, comic books, school. So that was how she made him. She had always wanted someone to protect her from the bullies and such, like big brothers did for their little sisters. And now, she had one of her own.

"I drawed it for you," the words escaped her five-year old lips as she giggled. "I hope you like it. Teacher told us to draw ourselves with someone we love and since I love you, I drawed you with me. Bradley Stuzie said it was stupid though."

"Well, I love it," he grinned once more. "Don't worry about Bradley. He's stupid. Really stupid."

"So you like it?! Really?" She giggled again, clinging to his shirt. "Am I right? Am I right? Are we gonna always be together and be friends forever?!"

Maybe if he'd have thought that a five year old could understand what it would've meant if he had said different; maybe something like, "only if you don't give me up," or "I don't know," he might've stopped himself from saying it. But she was a little girl, his creator, and naturally, he couldn't believe that she was going to ever be capable of letting him go. So he didn't say any of that.

He nodded, without thinking and answered with an "of course," and embraced her lovingly in his arms. The sun shone down on them both, living in a picture-perfect painting; caught in a sort of sibling hug, creator and creation; between mother and son. It was truly beautiful, and they were truly content.

It was a shame he would never remember it.

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She had been thinking of ways to tell him for years. Trying to persuade herself that she could make him understand. Without scarring him forever. Once she told him, there would be no going back. They wouldn't be a family anymore. If only she had told him earlier, like three years ago...

Three years ago, it would've probably been easier then, when there wasn't so much pressure to do so. When she didn't have to worry about never seeing him again. When she didn't have to give him up. At least then, she could try to help him cope with it all. Of course, this was her fault. She should be there anyway to help him recover from what she knew would be a terrifying shock.

She lied to him, and he would be the one to pay for it.

She couldn't very well keep lying to him though. As the years passed, he grew increasingly suspicious that there was something different about him; something wrong. She couldn't keep it up forever, this lie. And it tore her apart.

"I can't do this anymore...." she said aloud, sitting in her car in the parking lot, just outside the apartment building. She should've been inside an hour ago, to greet her children and make dinner, but stayed glued to the seat of her car, still trying to figure it all out.

Maybe, she shouldn't have made him look and feel so human...

"There's just not enough money, and he...we can't go on like this, with them fighting all the time and I don't have the time or the patience. I don't...I can't...He's my son, but-but I can't take care of him anymore..." She seemed to be trying to convince herself of something that just couldn't be fixed. But the more she tried to rationalize it all, the more difficult the situation became and the guiltier she felt.

After all, he'd been there since before Mac was even conceived, since she was four. He took care of her when she was young, and now, she was taking care of him. But now days....

It was just too hard.

Maybe if she had considered it all at the beginning, she wouldn't have lied to him. She hadn't known they could deviate the behavior from what their creators had created for them. If she had known that, it would all be different.

"If only I knew what to say. How to tell him... when to leave him." She tore the keys from the ignition, and stepped out of the car, waiting and wondering, an ocean of tears building up behind her eyes. 6 Years worth of lies, about to come crashing down on one terribly confused boy.

"He'll never forgive me..."

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"WEDGIE!!"

The sounds of pounding sneakers against a cuffed floor filled the air of a once silent apartment. There was screaming from both parties: one from fear, the other from a slur of emotions, anger, sadness, contempt. Things he would never allow anyone else to see beneath his exterior miserable teen flesh.

"Aaaaaaaagh!! Terrence! Stoppit!!" the child, full of fear, screamed, diving over the couch as he tried miserable to adjust his undies, now shifted uncomfortably between his cheeks. He hit the floor painfully hard on his head and flipped over onto his back. He rolled over on his tummy to fix the little predicament currently riding up on him further. He had to fix this now. His brother was out of control.

As usual.

"What was that?" a voice thundered above him and a shadow fell over his small body. Mac turned over, coming face to face with the monster; the same that lived inside his nightmares and out. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you. I think you said you want another one!"

Mac screamed again, dodging Terrence's grip just by a hair. He scrambled to towards the front door, hoping that maybe his mom would be standing there just as he opened it, or at least he could run off and maybe tire the big doofus out. Terrance just didn't know when to give up.

Too bad his brother got to him first.

He grabbed Mac's little legs and pulled him away from the door, just inches away from Mac's hand. Holding his younger sibling upside down, he grinned devilishly and replied, a hint of evil in his voice, "Aw, you seem to be scared, little bro. What are you afraid of? Me? Its me, isn't it? I can't understand why. I mean, its me, your big brother. Little, old harmless Terrence. Why, I wouldn't hurt a fly." He suddenly slammed his fist down on the table nearby, crushing a bug that had been scampering its way around the house.

Mac flinched at his words and at the sudden harmful action that followed, awaiting the worst of what was sure to come.

"Ya know," Terrence remarked suddenly, moving away from the table and down the hall. "I think we should do Mom a favor and, well, clean up the house, like little angels."

His brother would've been somewhat startled if he hadn't suspected something. "You...you do? You really want to clean up?"

"Of course I do," Terrence laughed, roughly kicking the bathroom door open and strutting inside, Mac still in hand. "And ya know what? I think we should start with the toilet."

Mac's eyes snapped wide open. "No! No, Wait, Terrence!!" he gasped, struggling. "Let me go!! Leggo!! You can't do this!!!"

Terrence stopped short just a few short steps away from the porcelain wonder, and glared at Mac with angry eyes, that grin still plastered on his youthful features, and he ran his tongue over his teeth. "I don't think you're in any position to be giving orders and telling me what I can and can't do. I'm bigger, I'm stronger, and I'm in charge. And since I'm in charge, I can do whatever I want!"

"Terrence, really!! Stop! Please!!" Mac shrieked as he was lowered down towards the water. "Nooooooooo!!!"

"This is the way he flush our toys, flush our toys, flush our toys, flush our toys. This is the way we flush our toys, 'cuz little brothers are really stu-pid!" Terrence sang, dipping the top of Mac's head into the toilet and flushing. He cackled merrily, pulling his sibling out for air, then dunking him back in, over and over and over again, until...

There was always an 'until.' And it was always 'until Mom came home.' Terrence was ill-prepared since he didn't hear her enter the apartment nor did he see her out of the corner of his eye as she stood in the doorway, in total awe and disbelief. Not that she should have been. She should've expected this, since it was always a similar situation she'd come home to almost every night.

It wasn't until she started yelling at him, that he stopped, promptly dropping his little brother completely in the toilet. Without a second's thought, Terrence grabbed a hold of Mac's flailing leg and dropped him on the bathroom floor.

"Gee, Mom. You're home early."

Mom sighed, raising her hand to her forehead, then glanced at Mac, his hair a horrible wreck of swirls. "Mac, honey, could you go to your room for a little while? Get some dry clothes on and play with your toys, okay?"

Mac nodded, wanting ever so much to shoot his brother a raspberry, but he thought it best not to since Terrence was already in a mess of trouble. He made his way out of the bathroom and towards his room, where he slowly closed the door just enough that he could hear what was going on without being seen. He was, after all, a curious 8 year old.

As soon as she was certain he was locked away in his bedroom, Mom shot her oldest child a hard glare. Terrence immediately, and very audibly, gulped. He knew what was coming.

"Terrence, I need to speak with you." Her voice seemed softer than usual, almost hesitant. But Terrence paid no mind to that. He had stopped listening, since this was a phrase he heard time and time again.

He closed his eyes, and nodded, not wanting to see that anger he faced every night, when she found him being destructive. Mom led the way to the bedroom.

He lagged behind for a moment, taking a quick look into the bathroom mirror, cracked along it's the side. It had been that way for over a year, when he was beating the snot out of Mac. It had been some harmless (well...maybe not harmless...) fun until that damned Bloo came flying out of nowhere like some retarded superhero and knocked Terrence into the glass.

He couldn't understand why he did those things; why he felt the need to pulverize his sibling and trash the apartment; why did he need to make others' lives so miserable? It was a question he often asked himself, and he always came back to the same conclusion: Because I'm the big brother...that's what brothers do...

That alone was enough to justify his actions.

Terrence studied himself in the mirror for a few more seconds, studying his face and remembering what Mom told him.

It was about the way he looked. In the past few years, he noticed that he didn't seem to be changing. Even when he was ten, he had always looked 13. He just didn't seem to be capable of growing or aging, and he was so confused as to why. When he finally asked his mother, she answered slowly, as if she were trying pull something out of air, "Its just a gland problem, sweetie. You'll grow soon, I promise..."

He wasn't sure if he believed her. One thing was certain: if he didn't outgrow this 'gland' thing or whatever, pretty soon, Mac would be bigger and stronger than him, and Terrence would be on the receiving end of the daily punishments for existing.

Sighing loudly, he headed to Mom's room, where she waited sitting on the edge of bed as she had done with Mac that day Bloo was sentenced to be kicked out.

Terrence loved thinking about that day.

However, he knew this time that he wouldn't be enjoying this one. He entered the room, finding her face buried in her hands, convulsing slightly.

She didn't seem to be crying, just frustrated, as she often was whenever she had to have a talk with her kids, but now... now she seemed saddened. As if she was preparing herself to cry.

Maybe she's remembering about Dad, again, Terrence thought to himself, stopping in his place. He almost decided to head for his room instead, but he couldn't just leave with her acting so strange. So he rolled his head back, hearing a sudden snapping noise, then proceeded to take another step forward.

Was he the cause of this, he wondered. Had he gone to far? Had he driven her to the point of a mental breakdown? He ignored these questions for the moment, and finally found his voice. "Um...Mom? Are you-" he wasn't used to acting so concerned, "are you oh-kay?"

His mother looked up, a few tears escaping her eyes, and patted the seat next to her. "Terrence. We-we need to talk..."

So she was crying. Oh God, how he hated that, especially when he was forced to sit there and watch someone go through it. Especially when it was his mom.

Terrence did as told. "Mom, if this is about beating Mac up, which I know it is, then I'm sorry, but I can't help it. He's just so small and so stupi-"

"No," his mother interrupted. "Well, sort of. That's-that's part of it." She touched his shoulder, feeling him tense, and she withdrew. "Terrence, what do you remember...before Mac was born?"

Terrence looked at the ceiling, finding himself suddenly feeling very sick. He hated trips down memory road. "Um, I remember when I was in the hospital with you when you were pregnant and I got kicked out for kicking the doctors in the shins when they told me I had to let you rest....why?"

"No, I mean. Something I've never reminded you of," Mom replied. "Something we've never discussed. Can you remember, anything?"

He thought some more, his stomach going through all kinds of twists and turns. He felt like he was going to throw up. But through all the thinking and remembering, his mind stayed vacant of any pictures he may have had. He just couldn't remember.

"Nuh uh. I don't remember. But I've never had the best memory anyway. So what?"

Mom shook her head slightly, still looking at him with sullen eyes, "There's a reason for that, Terrence. For your not remembering. You know that scar. The one on the back of your head?"

Terrence reached back, touching the scar on his scalp; a small line, almost like a scab, tracing down slightly. It hurt when he touched it, and he drew his hand back. "Yeah? What about it? I got that when I was riding my bike, right?"

She looked away, shaking her head again. "That accident, with your father...you were with him, and you sustained a blow to the back of your head. The doctors, they said you suffered from amnesia. Everything you remember about when you were little. I made those up, and you believed that they had actually happened. You never...you never even questioned it."

There was a pause. Then, "Ooooookay....um..." It hadn't sunk in yet.

She pulled something out from under the bed-a picture, framed nicely in a complex, golden border. "I knew I'd have to show you this someday. I never would've have thought I would have to do it now."

Mom held it up for the both of them to look at and placed her finger over a specific spot in the photo. "Do you recognize her, Terrence? Does she look familiar to you? At all?"

Terrence looked the subject over then answered, clearly confused, "I dunno....You? When you were a little girl? Four, I guess...why is this important? Aren't you going to yell at me or something?" He honestly didn't want to remind of that, but this was getting weird. She was acting like she was trying to relive the forgotten past, something that Terrence absolutely hated doing.

Mom nodded. "You're right. That's me. When I was four." She moved her finger along the glass and pointed to another figure, standing next to her little girl image. "What about him?" Her voice quivered.

He stared at it, and it was as if his brain shut down. The world outside this picture no longer existed, and he suddenly lost the ability to comprehend reality altogether. What he was seeing disproved everything he had ever known. His eyes grew wide, and his mouth fell open. It just couldn't be.

But there it was, sitting before him, sitting in his lap, mocking his life,

He tore his gaze away, his shocked eyes locking with saddened eyes of his mother. "I don't get it. That's not possible..." He leapt up, throwing the picture onto the mattress. "That's not possible!!" he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the photo. "No! That's not real!!"

Mom grabbed his arm gently and pulled him back down in his seat. She showed him the photo once more, her finger once again on the impossible figure. "It is possible," she whispered, her face wet with tears. "It is, Terrence."

Terrence shook his head, not wanting to believe her.

But she didn't stop. Her finger remained on the glass and the picture in her hand. "Its true, Terrence. It's there. It's real..."

There was pause.

"You're not human."

He stood up, beginning to pace a small line in front of her. A part of him wanted to run off to his room and never leave the safety it held. The other part wanted to believe her...it would explain so much. Why he never had an imaginary friend for himself, why he felt so angry and out of place. Why he knew he was so different.

He didn't do either. "No...you're lying. It can't be. It's manipulated...or something...Who put you up to it?" he asked suddenly. "Who put you up to this?! Was it Mac? It was that little brat, wasn't it?! Him and that stupid blue blob friend he pulled out of his ass! I know it was! I'll kill them! I'll kill them both!!" He was so upset, he hadn't even realized that he had cussed in front of his mother, who didn't even acknowledge it.

"Terrence!" she shouted, trying to make herself heard over his screaming. "Terrence, just stop it!!"

The boy bit his lip quickly, averting his eyes to the floor. He felt her hand clasp his and allowed her to tug him back onto the bed for the umpteenth time. Anger. All he felt was anger. But unlike the usual course of emotions, it did not travel to his fists, mostly because Mac wasn't there to beat up. Instead it traveled to his chest, clutching his heart , and making it nearly impossible to breath. How could she lie to him? All these years, all this time, lie after lie...? It wasn't right...

"How could you...?" he breathed.

There was yet another silence.

"I'm not human...."

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Mac stood near the door of his room, speechless, confused. It should've been a joy to hear that he and Terrence weren't really brothers; he had always hated the idea of being related in any way to that jerk. But now that he could hear this, now that it was true, he didn't know how to feel.

Maybe if Terrence had only been an adopted human kid, things would be different. But he wasn't. God, he was imaginary. It amazed Mac at how something that could be so monstrous could come from the sweet mind of his own mother.

Yet, strangely, Terrence didn't seem so monstrous at the moment. If anything, he sounded more human than he ever had in Mac's whole life. Hearing the conversation, his older brother sounded near the point of tears; it was something he couldn't even picture. For once, he didn't feel sorry for Mom having such a jerk of a son, but for Terrence for having such a liar of a mom.

Then again, she had lied to Mac too. Everything that she had lied to Terrence about, she had done the same to Mac.

No longer straining to hear the conversation, as he could hear it quite well now that his mother was upset and didn't try to keep her voice down, he slid down the wall next to the door, his mind racing with questions.

She had lied so many times. Mac's life was almost as much of a lie as Terrence's was, since he too had grown up believing that his brother was a regular human boy physically created from his parents.

He could still her them talking, and his stomach tightened. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"Terrence," Mac's mother finally began again, releasing a small sob from her throat. "When I was little, I wanted so badly, so badly, to have someone there for me. A big sister of a big brother. I wanted someone to plat with, someone to love whop would love me back, no matter what. It-its was so hard being an only child with no one else around...so when I was four, I decided I didn't want to be by myself anymore, so I created an imaginary friend."

Terrence raised his head slightly, wondering if he should seem interested or stay angry.

"He...he was everything I imagined an older brother to be: tall, strong, and brave... he was everything. And he loved me and I loved him. He looked so human, there were very few people who could tell he was imaginary. Everyone thought he was really my brother, and I liked it that way.

"Then, I started getting older, and he stayed the same all those years...soon, I was taking care of him instead of him taking care of me. But I couldn't let him go, so I kept him, even after I got married and after I had Mac. And we were a family."

Mac shifted in his spot, still eavesdropping. He felt a tear tug at the corner of his eye upon the mentioning of their dad....well, his dad. He was never Terrence's dad, and they both knew that now. It hurt him to think of how that must be hurting his brother: to find out that the people he thought were his family, weren't.

"Then, an-" Mom felt a sob rise up, but she managed to suppress it, hoping that the boy hadn't seen it. He had, but said nothing. "-an accident happened, and your father died. He was killed in that crash, but you weren't..."

He was shocked. Now he understood what she had said earlier.

"You were with him when he died."

Terrence jumped up immediately, opening his mouth to speak but the words couldn't make it passed his lips. He tried to say something, anything. She had never, NEVER told him that. And he couldn't remember. What if it was his fault, or what if he could've stopped the death from happening? He would never know now.

"You didn't remember," she was openly crying now, her worlds slurred together and broken by her intense crying. "You couldn't even remember who I was or who you were. You couldn't remember anything....I didn't even know imaginary fiends could get amnesia...I wanted to tell you. Oh God, I wanted to. But when you looked in the mirror, you were so convinced you were human...and I couldn't...I couldn't say anything to make you think otherwise. My heart wouldn't let me."

"So you....YOU....!" he started angrily.

"I lied to you," she finished for him. "I told you that you were Mac's older brother, that you were my son. I told you that you had a gland problem that caused you to seem ageless....Oh God, I'm so sorry..."

All this time?! What is it, six years, you've been lying to me!! Six fucking years!? My life has been a giant lie and all you can do is apologize?! You- Jesus, I'm not human!!"

Mac flinched as his brother screamed, the pain obvious in his voice. All those times he hated Terrence, and now, he regretted them, even if it was Terrence's fault.

"Terrence, please.." Mac heard his mother plead.

"No! No, I can't believe it! I won't believe it! You're lying, you have to be!!" he shrieked, kicking and punching the wall.

"Terrence, please, stop..." Mom begged, grabbing his arm once more. "There's-there's more to it. I'm not finished. I wish I was, but I'm not."

"What is it now!?" Terrence burst out, unable to control himself. "What? Are you too low on funds to take care of me anymore? Too sick of my beating up on your precious baby boy? Can't handle what you've created so now you have to get rid of me? Is that it? What else is there, MOM?!"

Mom said nothing, and Terrence stopped in his place.

Mac jumped up and bolted from his room, stopping in the doorway of his mother's bedroom. He stared in, waiting for the response, his eyes threatening to unleash the tears he'd barely managed to keep inside all this time.

"Oh God," Terrence breathed. "You are, aren't you? You're giving me up..."

Mom glanced up at him, eyes swollen and red, "I'm taking you to a foster home tomorrow morning. With the other imaginary friends..."

Terrence and Mac were in shock, disbelieving.

"I just can't keep you anymore..."

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He was an unbelievable mess, caught in the blackness of the room, surrounded by nothing more than his shattered material possessions and his utter unhappiness.

How could he have gone on for so long, never listening to that little voice that told him there was something wrong. That told him he was different. But he knew now; he knew all too well. Now he was one of the very freaks he had hated all those years. The ones he taunted and made fun of, because they weren't real. They weren't human.

Neither was he.

It made sense now though. Around the time Mac had turned two, Terrence had grown lonely, and attempted to crate an imaginary friend of his own. It resulted in less than nothing, and that's when he became angry. He became easily agitated. He became violent. It had only gotten worse.

Especially when Mac created Bloo.

Angry, he picked up a baseball close by and hurled it across the room, as he had done with every other possession . His room was completely torn apart, and there dents in the walls and trash on the floors and spitballs on the ceiling.

It tore him apart that Mac had witnessed the situation. Fine time for him to see his brother at his weakest, beaten down with so many lies and shit. And now he had to go live with that Bloo-thing and all of his stupid imaginary friends.

He sighed, swallowing whatever painful emotions that tried to work their way out. It was always better to suppress those kinds of things. Then just let the anger out, so that no one knew how you really felt. That was truly living, and that's what he did.

Then there was a knock.

It startled him, and he almost let out a small cry. Terrence got to his feet and cautiously opened the door. There were only two possibilities on who it could be, and if it was who he thought it was, he was going to slam the door shut, lock it, and never leave his room again.

"Terrence...?"

Terrence sighed inwardly of relief. No Mom, and that was what counted. Rather, it was Mac who stood outside of his bedroom, his hair still a wreck, and his eyes swollen and red, just like his mother's. His brother realized he had been crying too. But for what? He figured Mac would be happy that he was leaving...

Trying to keep his usual demeanor, he growled angrily, mostly hidden behind the door. "What the hell do YOU want? Come here to tell me that your mom's right and I should just go quietly and peaceful? Figures you'd side with her. She always liked you best..."

Mac shook his head. "Its nothing like that," he answered, looking at the floor. "Can I come into your room? Just in case Mom can hear us?"

Terrence rolled his eyes and opened the door wide enough for his small sibling to enter. "Fine," he groaned, though inside he was in a state of confusion. Before today, Mac never would have asked to enter his room, and Terrence never would have let him. There seemed to be a shift today, and he knew it was all because of his...Mac's mom's lying.

Terrence sat on the edge of his bed, watching awkwardly as Mac did the same. God, it felt so weird talking to his sibling instead of beating him up.

"So," he began, still sounding irritated. "What do you want? Just remember, you're stuck in MY room, so don't piss me off."

Mac swung his feet back and forth against the side of the bed. "I'm sorry ," he answered suddenly. "I'm sorry for what Mom did to you."

Terrence tried not to look or seem surprised. He failed. "You are?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah. What she did to you was wrong. Making you think you were someone...something else. Lying to you year after year. I'm almost as angry at her as you are. Its wrong...all of it. And what she's doing to you tomorrow."

Terrence stayed silent.

"We don't get to be brothers anymore, Terrence."

"We never were brothers, stupid," the older one growled, shifting his weight on the bed and lying down. "Don't you get it? We're not related, so we can't be brothers. Hell, we're just fucking roommates. That's all."

Mac looked like he was about to cry. He jumped up off of the bed and began to head for the door. Terrence was right. They had never been brothers, and never would be. What he thought was a family of three for the past God knows how many years, had been a mere family of two: a mother, a son, and some abusive roomie that was to be kicked out.

"Will you visit me, stupid?"

Mac turned around, forcing a smile. "Of course. Everyday. When I visit Bloo. And you can beat me up whenever you see me." He really didn't want to say that last part, but it would make his brother happy, and that's what mattered at the moment. Turning back around, he opened the door and proceeded to leave.

A creak from the bed was heard and something caught his shirt. He looked back, suddenly catching sight of Terrence gripping his shirt and grinning evilly. Oh God...

"Where do you think you're going? I wasn't finished yet," Terrence sneered, yanking his little brother back into his room and slamming the door shut.

Mac would emerge minutes later, covered in new bruises and spit, and feeling the effects of a very traumatizing wedgie.

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: Free will and all that rot. Example- Red didn't act as his creator, Terrence, created him to act, and Bloo doesn't always act as Mac wants him to. Get it, got it, good.

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