Time and Sound
Drabble OneShot
Rating: T
Summary: It was late one night, and all Petey could think of was Gary. (Slight slash)

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Petey sat on the couch in the boys' dorm, the fuzz of the television the only thing keeping him awake. It read one twenty-three on the digital clock beneath the TV, the red numbers blinking. Nobody else was awake, and save for the sound of mice squeaking and the television, nothing else was around. Nothing else made a sound. And Petey sat on the couch in the boy's dorm, his legs pressed against his chest, chin balanced on his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs.

He blinked, blearily. One twenty-four. He didn't know why he was fighting sleep. He could go to bed, if he really wanted too. The room that him and Gary shared was currently empty, as the psychotic child had just recently been kicked out. Expelled. One twenty-five. Kicking and screaming, the asylum orderlies took the sociopath away to the building overlooked by the statue, where they would shove the mind pills down Gary's throat and make him realize all of his sins and vices. And he would scream; scream and shout about how his mind was being numbed and how he would take them all down, someday.

Petey couldn't hear Gary's screams from his spot on the couch, inside the boy's dorm. All he could hear was the fuzz of the television and the lone squeak of a mouse scurrying around.

The numbers blinked, one twenty-six.

Petey wondered how it would be like, as the Head Boy. Crabblesnitch had come out of his office, personally congratulating the frail boy in his deed of helping Jimmy Hopkins. He was to become Head Boy next school year. Prefect, in essence. Would people like him, now that he had this newfound power? If he wanted, he could write up any bully, jock, or greaser up that dared mess with him.

People liked Gary. Why did people like Gary? Believe the nasty poison that was hissed into their ears?

Why did he like Gary?

The day right after Gary got expelled, Petey did some things he shouldn't have. He went into Jimmy's room. Nobody ever went into Jimmy's room. The door was always wide open, but who disrupts a King? And he stole. He stole some clothes. One twenty-seven. It was an orderly uniform, how Hopkins got it only God knew. But he stole it, pulling the oversized clothes onto himself. He had snuck out the window, sometime after the afternoon classes but before the school itself closed down for the night. It was mostly empty, save for a lone prefect, and who noticed Femme Boy anyway?

He took a bike, and pedaled his heart off down the bike trails of the school. The longer route, yes, but it would mean he wouldn't be spotted by people he knew. It was always deserted unless there was a race scheduled. And he could ride all the way to the Asylum; he flew there, because he swore he could hear his screams.

(But, Petey could not hear them. The only sound in the whole building, maybe the whole world, was the fuzz of the television and the lone squeak of a mouse that had found a leftover chip from today's poker game. One twenty-eight.)

He slipped inside, oh-so-easily, into the building. And he walked quietly, dodging the questioning looks of the orderlies, the crazy snarls of the patients that clawed at him through the bars of their cages.

B block, number five.

He was sitting there, all the way, in the back on the floor. He sat there, his legs tucked up against his chest, chin on his knees, and arms around his legs. His eyes were blank and dull and his hair had grown a bit longer, covering some of his scar.

"Gary."

His eyes were so dark and hollow and he suddenly got to his feet, not even using his hands to push himself up. He just sort of lurched forward, staggering up to his feet, swaying. "Femme boy! Oh, come to see me, eh?" Gary laughed, shaking his head so the hair fell into his eyes. He didn't seem to care, and he swayed with a sort of drunken swagger from all the drugs in his system. "Or should I say, Head Boy, the footstool to the miraculous, stupendous-" And his overly loud, exuberant voice suddenly turned into a shout, a roar, a scream. "Idiotic, brain dead, moronic King Hopkins! All hail the King! All hail the King!"

"Gary! Stop...stop..." He was gone. The orderlies pushed past him, restrained Smith as he screamed and fought.

One twenty-nine.

Petey was starting to nod off to sleep. But he was fighting sleep. Why did he push himself to remember these things?

He blinked, blearily. All there was in the dorm was the sound of the television fuzz and a squeak of a mouse, and soft footsteps.

Pete turned around, looking over at Jimmy. The boy looked as tired as he did, his auqaberry dress shirt unbuttoned and wrinkled, wearing only a pair of boxers. He scratched the back of his head, sighing softly.

"Petey?"

Kowalski's eyes watered. He looked away, even as he felt arms wrap around him, picking him up. He was so light, almost too tiny, and Hopkins felt like he was going to squish him against his chest. Pete buried his head into Jimmy's shirt, clinging, his breath shallow.

"I miss him. I miss him... " He whispered, his body shaking. The arms around him held him tighter, and he heard a door click open. He looked up from Jimmy's shirt as the boy carried him through the doorway, not looking down as he settled Pete on his bed. Kowalski grabbed Jimmy's arm, and he took in a sharp breath, finally looking down at him. "I miss him..." His voice sounded broken.

"... I'm sorry." He slowly said, pulling away. Jimmy looked over at the door, then back at Petey. "I don't."

Petey's hand fell to the bed, and he let out a loud, slow sigh. Jimmy gave him a weak smile, leaving.

It was one thirty in the morning, and Pete Kowalski fell asleep, to the sound of a television being turned off and a mouse letting out a strangled squeak as it was neatly pelted with a slingshot.

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Author's Note: Yummy, angst and repetition... Remember, a review a day keeps me from eating your limbs! Also, check out my other Bully fics, or I promise you I'll start gnawing on your pinkies. And if anybody is interested in a Bully roleplay, my IM is bobthepaperroll...