The Fall of Forever {A MyStreet FF}

{Prologue}

Five friends were sitting at the table, talking as usual.

Four were enthusiastic, except for one. The dark haired man sat quietly the entire time with his leg bouncing. It distracted the golden haired man frequently during the conversation. For the majority of the talk he was listening, but not processing. The other three were intent and excited about the material.

"Derek, you're quiet," the man with tan skin and brown hair said. "What's going through your mind?"

"Just listening," Derek responded. "I'm sorry, Zack. Go on."

"Garte, are you getting any of this?" The blue haired woman asked, snapping the man with golden hair back into attention.

"Ah, that's another thing this potion could do! Garte, it could go as far as to cure your AD..." the bald man chimed in.

Michael's voice trailed off in Garte's head again. He intently tried to listen for a while, but the conversation was simply not interesting enough. He was far too distracted as to what was going on in Derek's mind to worry about his own.

"Of course, this potion is just in a concept phase, but wouldn't that be great Garte? To cure not just you, but your sons!" The blue haired woman exclaimed.

"They have ADHD, Elizabeth. They're not in need of curing. They're living very fulfilled lives," Derek chimed in, sounding more irritated than ever.

Elizabeth shared a glance with Zack. One that might not be caught by some, but Garte certainly saw it. Derek's comment caused nothing but the tension in the room to only thicken. Michael huffed out a breath of air. This was a classic move for an irritated Derek.

A high pitched yell came from the room adjacent to the one the five were sitting in. Garte smirked and let out a breath.

"Excuse me," he said, standing up.

He quietly walked into the room to see his two eldest sons, Garroth and Zane, fighting over a remote control that went to a car. Being the year apart that they were, fights like these were a frequent occurrence.

Garte walked over to his sons, kneeling down to their level and separating them by gently pushing on their shoulders. His four year old who was the spitting image of him, Garroth, held the remote control in his hands. Garte held out his hand and, without a word, received the toy.

"This is your warning, you two. If you can't play with it nicely, neither of you are going to play with it at all," Garte said, his eyes dancing back and forth between his boys.

"I had it first!" Little Zane, with his three year old voice exclaimed.

"No, I did!" Garroth said as he advanced towards Zane. Garte stopped him by placing his hand on his chest.

"That doesn't matter. Both of you, find a different toy to play with. This car is off limits until you can both learn to share," Garte responded, standing up and putting the remote control on a shelf that was too high for either boy to reach.

Zane stomped off, the strongest he could, to a corner of the room. Garte stifled a chuckle as he walked over to his youngest, Vylad. He knelt down on one knee beside him. The auburn hair and the green eyes weren't Garte's, or his wife's, but the two year old was still very much his son.

"Hi, Pea! You doing alright over here?" Garte said as his toddler smiled up at him. He placed a hand on Vylad's soft hair and smiled at him.

Garte turned around and saw Zane, still sulking in the corner. While Garroth was already occupied with something new, Zane was still upset. Garte smirked and got up from Vylad to walk over to his raven haired son.

He knelt down in front of the boy, who turned away from his father as fast as he could. Once again, Garte had to stifle a chuckle. Not daring to touch him yet, Garte looked straight at the boy.

"Silent treatment, huh?" He inquired. Zane gave no response other than turning away more.

"Well, it's a good thing, then. You know, mommy told me after lunch that you weren't allowed to smile."

Zane clutched his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms. Little did he know that his father could tell he was trying to hide a smile, but just simply couldn't.

"Oh, you better not be smiling under there," Garte said, tapping his son's arm. Zane turned in the opposite direction, still not letting Garte see his face. "We Ro'Meaves don't tolerate smiling in the slightest."

"That's not true! You're silly, daddy!" Zane exclaimed, grinning and giggling.

Garte pretended to have a shocked look on his face, but was unable to hide a smile himself. He shook his head and raised his eyebrows.

"Goodness, ZuZu, you know what the punishment for smiling is?" Garte asked, calling Zane the nickname his wife gave him at birth.

"There's not one!" Zane laughed.

"Oh, there is. It's... the tickle monster!" Garte reached out his hand and tickled Zane's neck.

He smiled as Zane laughed and fought against it, pushing his father's hands away. Garte took his hand back moments later and stood up, ruffling Zane's dark hair. The boy was still giggling as he reached for a different toy.

Garte then walked over to the boy who was his oldest, who had the same golden hair he did. He snuck up behind his son and picked him up in a swift motion, spinning him around once as he laughed. Garte smiled at the face that looked just like his own and sat down on the couch with his four year old on his lap.

"How are those bruises from yesterday, buddy?" Garte said, pulling up the long sleeve to Garroth's shirt. "Any better?"

The day prior, Garte's wife, Zianna, brought attention to the fact that Garroth had several dark bruises trailing down his arms. When questioned about it, Garroth claimed he had no idea where they came from. Being the rambunctious boy he was, both Garte and Zianna decided it was probably from roughhousing as he usually did.

Garroth was very preoccupied with Legos in his hands, which he was building constantly as of late. He seemed to be too distracted to answer his dad.

Garte's eyes shifted to his son's neck. Right where his shoulder began, where the collar of his shirt just ended, Garte could see a deep purple forming. He hooked the collar under his thumb and tugged it right. A bruise like one he had never seen before was stamped on his son's shoulder. Garte furrowed his eyebrows. He knew this was cause for concern.

"Daddy, can I please go play now?" Garroth asked, turning around and looking at his father with big blue eyes.

"Alright, little man," Garte sighed, letting his son off his lap. "Good job using your manners, by the way."

It seemed their hyperactive and impulsive son was becoming calmer by the minute. He wasn't as active. The fight to get him to go to bed was no longer a fight, but a simple request and it was done. Garte stopped to wonder, was it their parenting, or was the little one becoming more tired?

Garte pressed his lips in a line and stood up, walking out of the room. He knew he was going to have to talk to Zianna about inquiring about those bruises at the pediatrician. Just as he was about to leave, he turned around and looked straight at Zane.

"And you, ZuZu," Garte said, catching his attention. "I better not see you smiling."

Zane hid his face and giggled as his father walked out the door. Garte met his friends again, still sitting at the table, talking as they were.

Derek, still quiet and bouncing his leg, as he was.

"Sorry about that," Garte apologized as he sat down.

"So, where were we? Forever potions, right?"