Warning: Not-so-kind Prof. Oak.

They were in a game of baseball.

Gary wasn't playing. He wasn't even in the audience—he was at the school's computer lab, hurriedly using his lunch break to type away at an essay he'd forgotten to finish. His fingers cramped on the keys and there seemed to be at least one character wrong of every five he'd typed. He sucked at this. He was the top student.

The backspace key jammed. Gary tugged and picked at it, and as soon as it wobbled free of whatever it was stuck at, the computer screen had frozen, and upon moving the mouse it turned white. All the text Gary typed was erased, just like that.

Just like that.

Out in the field, Ash held the bat with inexperienced hands, and as soon as the ball came his foot slipped forward and he almost lost his balance. The bat swung wildly, and the ball went flying. Ash was not a good runner, but the winning team was obvious and Ash had scored a home run. Just like that.

Hours later, the bell was about to ring, and it was almost the end of school. Ash was beaming in his seat, eager to go home and share his victory—no matter how accidental—to his mother and his friends. His fingers were drumming on his desk. The teacher smiled discreetly at his happiness, then turned her attention back to the board.

Gary sat back in his seat after being reprimanded for his failure in completing his literature assignment, and his eyes darted anxiously to the clock. The teacher, a strict man in his late forties, yelled at him and told him to pay attention.

I'm so excited, Ash thought joyfully. I wonder how mom will react. I hope she bakes me a cake!

Gary couldn't see the clock, but he was positive he could hear the seconds ticking by. He focused all his attention to the teacher, but all the words were nonsense to his ears. All he could think about was how he didn't finish the assignment, how the keys were against him and the computer and the damn keys, those fucking keys—

I'm so scared, Gary thought restlessly. I don't know how grandpa will react. I hope he won't slap me so hard this time.

Ash snuck a drink out of his water bottle, and it was cool and refreshing.

Gary gulped, and his own saliva burned.

-

"Whoa! This is like, a farm!"

Ash flung his arms apart and looked like he was about to spin on the grassy field. He laughed, happily, and fell on his back with a soft plop.

Gary watched with a small smile on his face, counting the number of steps Ash had made on the field. The depth of the sunken soil, the angle in which the grass had been nudged. He looked at the messy, muddy imprints on the otherwise shiny blades of grass and wondered how much it'd cost—how much it'd cost to his face.

"Are those cows?!"

Ash ran to the other side of the field, footsteps heavy and stained. Twenty-two. Twenty-six, twenty-eight. Gary could barely keep count; Ash was ruining the field so fast. How long would it take to repair it all?

"They aren't cows," Gary sneered, his eyes to the ground as he made his way around the muddied tracks. Thirty-two, he recounted. Thirty-two mistakes.

Ash walked around the group of animals, eyes wandering as his shoes made squish sounds on the ground. Gary figured he might as well carry Ash out, if only he'd be so kindly inclined to leave.

"What are they, then?"

Gary's head snapped up. The newest number spun in circles around his mind. "What?"

"The cows."

Gary's brows furrowed. What are they, what are they? He tried to remember, but the question only spun around his head in circles. Ash took a few steps sideways and new numbers added themselves to the count. What are they—

Ash had thankfully interrupted him before he could attempt to answer. "You know?" he started. "I don't get why you're so bitter all the time." Gray looked up at that, frown growing deeper. What the hell is he—"I mean, sure, your parents are overseas, but so is my dad. You still have your grandpa like I still have my mom." Ash made a face. "And, you know, my mom always nags."

Gary couldn't tell where he was going with this, only that Ash had no idea what he was saying or how much it hurt. His parents were overseas—in their graves. Pain clenched at his heart at the mere thought of them. He had been happy, once…

"They say that people who take care of animals are really nice people," Ash continued. "That's why you should be happier. You get all the good stuff, like the lab and this farm, all from your nice grandpa."

But hurting was alright. It was a hard blow, but Gary was used to getting hit.

Instead of retaliating with an insult, he merely shifted slightly. "So?"

Ash shrugged. "So don't be so grouchy. You suck like that, you know."

Gary growled. "So?" He shifted more, and his shoes grinded and pushed against the blades of grass. "What's it to you, huh? Why the hell do you care?"

Ash stared at him with a defiant expression, slightly annoyed. "I'm your friend, you know. It really sucks to play with someone so grumpy."

"Then don't play with me," Gary snarled. His glare was pronounced and piercing.

Ash's reaction was strange. First his feet slid back and he made to draw his fists upward, his mouth curved downwards into a nasty scowl; there, he seemed to pause, and slowly unravelled from his previously tense position into something much more awkward and forgiving. "...Sorry, Gary," he mumbled. His eyes stared at the ground, feet playing with a slab of soil.

Gary could tell he was seething inside.

"Maybe I'll come back tomorrow," Ash continued, as if his presence was a positive matter. "Or some other time."

Gary couldn't help himself. "You better leave, then," he sneered, and Ash's last look towards him held a mixture of disappointment and nervousness before his shoes cleaned themselves on the rest of the grass and he disappeared.

It was for the best, Gary thought to himself. Ash had to leave one day. Everything good had to end, one day.

When grandpa found mud on his shoes and connected it to the ruined yard, Gary thought that maybe it had been too soon. He wanted someone in his life, someone kind, and maybe he'd gotten rid of what he wanted too soon.

"Their meat, Gary!" Grandpa threw his hands in the air. "How can you be so stupid? Special shoes—why didn't you wear those cleats I got you—don't you remember? Those special shoes, they're clean. Don't you know how much germs are on those things on your feet?"

Grandpa was nice, though. He took care of animals.

"You can't show them crap in their system when they get butchered. Cut open, Gary, do you know what that means?" Grandpa's hands dropped and he looked like the worn old man he was supposed to be—then they rose and Gary felt fingers around his neck. Grandpa used it as leverage and shook Gary's body harshly. "Do you know what that means?!"

"They won't be healthy," Gary said through almost-clattering teeth, "they—they're going to be rejected…"

Grandpa's grip did not tighten. For a moment, Gary thought it would, but then it loosened and the hands fell.

"Study harder," grandpa said, "your science exam is in a week. You barely know your material."

Gary didn't nod, didn't disagree. He merely stood there and waited for a sign on what he should say. Grandpa only looked at him expectantly.

"I will," he promised. His throat clenched and his skin prickled, and he thought only now that maybe this time his voice would really die, and grandpa will finally stop trying to choke him.

Grandpa just looked at him again, and walked away.

-

Gary had aced the exam.

His palms were sweating and his eyes continued to dart anxiously to the clock. Three minutes left. Three minutes left before he walked home and grandpa asked him how he did, and Gary would have to find a way to leave out the barely part of his good grade.

There was a high and low to every perfect. Gary's mark was ninety-four, and no matter how many time he'd looked it over or counted the checkmarks he was still six marks away from a hundred. Six fucking marks.

Three minutes of yelling and three knocks to the head, and Gary thought that he's been getting away with things so much easier these days. Maybe he has been doing better in his studies, finally doing better. He may have been stupid before, but now he was ten. He was smart and grandpa had noticed.

Bruised and dizzy, Gary shakily smiled.

I did indeed have another fic titled the same thing--I've changed that one now because I have completely forgotten where I was going with it.

This is the prologue. Actual plot starts next chapter, but amazingly this part is completely necessary.