A.N.- Alright, it's been a while since I did a childhoods special. For those who don't know, these are just small, random scenes from the characters' childhoods (it also took me like 3 months to write this for some reason???). Anyways, it features Staz from Fixing The Scatter, Kaz and Aaron from The Paths We Take/Conversion Academy, Jude from Fixing The Scatter/Friend Zoned/Changing Will, Leon from The Only Faith, and Beckett from Conversion Academy/The Only Faith. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!
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#1- Staz Montgomery
Five year old Staz Montgomery sat in his driveway, chalk in hand. He drew in a familiar pattern, hand moving easily. He was surrounded by childishly drawn birds.
His brother, twelve year old Dante, watched him from the garage, a basketball tucked under his arm. He wanted to go play basketball in the driveway, but he didn't want to disturb Staz.
Staz could sit outside and draw for hours, never seeming to bore. Currently, he'd been outside for the past two hours. His father had given up watching him to make sure he didn't wander away, since Staz didn't appear to be moving anytime soon. Instead, he just stayed near the window while he worked to make sure no one tried to take Staz.
Dante set the basketball down and went over to Staz, sitting next to him, keeping a comfortable distance. He knew it upset Staz when someone touched him without permission.
"Those are good," he said, pointing at the abundance of birds. He supposed that, for Staz's age, they were pretty good.
Staz looked up. "I want to draw a tree but I don't know how. A big tree they can sit in."
"You can't learn unless you try. Just wing it," Dante said.
Staz shook his head. "No, I want to draw a tree, not a wing!"
"'Just wing it' is an expression, Staz," Dante said patiently. "It means just do your best."
"Oh." Staz held the chalk out to Dante. "Show me?"
Dante took the chalk from Staz and gave his best attempt at drawing a tree with enough branches for birds to sit on. Staz watched intently, eyes tracing the path Dante's hand took.
"Now you try," Dante said, handing the chalk back to Staz.
"Help me," Staz said, holding his hand out a little with the chalk in it. It was his way of inviting touch.
Dante gently took Staz's hand and guided it along the driveway until a fairly large tree appeared. Staz's eyes lit up and he repeatedly slapped his free hand against the ground in excitement.
Staz hesitated, looking up at Dante nervously. His father always yelled at him when he showed his excitement with his hands.
But Dante just smiled at him and released his other hand. He reached out and lightly rubbed Staz's back, the spot between his shoulder blades. Staz usually hated being touched, but he didn't mind when Dante did that.
Staz looked at the tree and tried to bring up words. He wanted to say something to Dante, because he liked spending time with him and he liked when Dante drew with him. He liked the way Dante treated him. But he didn't know how to express that. He couldn't figure out how to say it or show it.
So, instead, he just stayed quiet and began drawing birds perched on the tree. Dante didn't try to talk to him, and he liked that. He liked being left alone to draw. But he also liked that Dante sat next to him while he did it. It's not that he wanted to be completely alone.
Staz drew two birds on one of the branches, making them sit close together, almost touching. He grabbed at his chalk and colored them in, one with darker hair like Staz's and one with lighter hair like Dante's. He swirled the colors, ruining the birds' heads.
But it was the best he could do to show what he felt. He looked up at Dante, anxiously running his thumbs up and down on the chalk as he waited for a reaction.
Dante looked down at the drawing. To him, it just looked like a messy swirl of colors done by a five year old. He knew Staz was trying to say something with it, but he didn't know what.
So he just smiled at Staz. "It's great, Staz."
Staz smiled, repeatedly slapping both of his hands against the ground this time. He didn't realize that Dante didn't understand. He was just excited that someone seemed to get what he was expressing.
He picked up the chalk again, falling into his own little world as he resumed drawing those monotone birds of his. Dante watched him silently, wishing he could understand Staz but knowing he'd just keep pretending he did until he truly figured the boy out.
#2- Kaz Warrick and Aaron Kizziar
Kaz wandered outside with the rest of the class. It was gym time, and the gym teacher, Mr. Hendricks, was carrying a bag of footballs and pinnies. He led the kids down to the field and turned to face the group.
"Everybody partner up!" he said.
Kids eagerly ran to their friends. Kaz pouted a little, because Lily was usually his partner but she was out sick today. He waited until everyone had paired up, leaving only four kids standing and staring at each other awkwardly.
Mr. Hendricks sighed. "Alright, Mitch and Gabby partner up. Kaz and Aaron, you two partner up."
Some kids snickered and some gave Kaz a sympathetic expression. No one ever wanted to get stuck as Aaron Kizziar's partner in gym.
But the little blond boy wandered over to Kaz. Aaron's whole body was crackling with barely contained energy, eager to run around and get it out. Kaz forced a smile, knowing his mom would want him to be nice to Aaron.
"Hi Aaron," he said.
"Are you good at football?" Aaron asked. "My brother plays in the streets with his friends, but they never let me join."
Kaz shrugged. "I've never played before."
Mr. Hendricks went around, handing each pair a football. He placed the ball in Aaron's hands and gave him a stern look.
"Aaron Kizziar, you better control yourself or I'll make you sit out," he warned before moving on.
Aaron frowned after him and looked down at the football in his hands. He fit his fingers along the lace and backed away a distance from Kaz.
"Ready?" he asked.
Kaz positioned his hands the way Mr. Hendricks had shown them earlier and nodded. Aaron threw the football with surprising force for a 7 year old boy.
Kaz winced as it smacked into his hands, but he managed to catch it. He took a step back and got a good grip on the ball before throwing it back to Aaron.
The two fell into a familiar rhythm of catch with the football. Aaron's throws were always more forceful than necessary, but Kaz found a way to cushion the throw with his palms so it didn't hurt.
Aaron seemed to grow more excited that Kaz wasn't complaining about how hard he threw. He threw the ball with all his might, feeling like he'd never be able to get out all of the energy screaming through his body.
Kaz's hands were growing red and sore, but he just grinned at Aaron and played along. Kaz could remember feeling angry and frustrated when his dad died, and his mom had taken him out to play baseball. He'd swung with all his might, relieved at how good it felt to get those pent up feelings out. Maybe Aaron just needed the same kind of release.
"Aaron!"
Aaron winced as Mr. Hendricks stormed over and snatched the football out of his hands. Mr. Hendricks glared down at Aaron.
"What did I say?" he snapped. "You're being far too rough. Go sit against the fence until the end of the period. You're going to hurt someone. You're dangerous."
Aaron clenched his fists, looking so frustrated Kaz was worried he might actually take a swing at the gym teacher. Instead, Aaron just spun around and stomped off towards the fence, stopping to kick an empty can on his way.
"Sorry about that, Kaz. Are your hands okay?" Mr. Hendricks asked, going over and kneeling down to inspect them.
Kaz instinctively reached out and snatched the football from Mr. Hendricks' hands. He gave a guilty smile as Mr. Hendricks glared.
"Alright, alright. Go join one of the other groups. And stop taking things that don't belong to you! Stealing is bad! I don't want to have to call your mom again, Kaz," Mr. Hendricks said.
Kaz hung his head and handed the football back. "I wasn't gonna keep it," he mumbled.
"You shouldn't take it in the first place," Mr. Hendricks said, giving Kaz a light shove. "Go on."
Kaz scampered away to join a different group. As he started up another game of catch, he glanced over at Aaron.
Aaron leaned against the fence, hugging his knees to his chest, watching the other kids with jealousy screaming in his eyes. Kaz looked away from him to focus on playing catch. They'd both been branded trouble makers, but Kaz's form of trouble didn't hurt other kids so he got off a lot easier than Aaron. Sometimes he thought it wasn't fair. Other times he was glad he didn't get in the same trouble.
As Kaz began to laugh with the other kids, he let Aaron slide easily from his mind.
#3- Jude Tibbits
Jude frowned as he looked up at the tank on his desk. His parents had bought him an African dwarf frog a year ago, and it was one of the few things he adored.
He grabbed a chair and pushed it over to his desk, crawling onto it so he could see his frog better. It had been acting strange lately, and Jude was worried.
Jude had fondly named the frog Clyde, since his father used to own a dog named Clyde and loved to tell Jude stories of it. Right now, Clyde was twitching at the top of his tank, limbs splayed out.
"Clyde?" Jude said, frown growing. He reached out and lightly tapped his finger against the glass, even though his mother had yelled at him for doing that when he first got the frog.
The frog gradually started twitching harder, but then his twitches died off. He flipped onto his back, twitching lightly a few more times before falling motionless.
Jude's eyes widened and the 6 year old tapped on the glass again. "Clyde? Clyde!"
The frog didn't move. Jude grabbed the net he had and gently poked the frog's leg, but Clyde didn't move.
Jude dropped the net and jumped off of his chair, running over to his bedroom door. He flung it open, panic rising in him.
"Dad!" he yelled, his voice frantic. "Daddy!"
"Jude?" Both of his parents hurried out of their bedroom.
"Hey, what's wrong buddy? Are you hurt?" his dad asked, dropping to his knees in front of Jude, his eyes rapidly searching the boy for injury.
"Clyde!" Jude said, his eyes watering. "Clyde isn't moving, dad!"
"Already? Syd, you told me that those things have a 4 year life span," Tatiana said impatiently.
Syd frowned and got up, taking Jude's hand and walking into the room with him. His face paled as he looked at the dead frog.
"It must have gotten an infection," he said, lifting Jude into his arms and hugging him. "I'm really sorry, Jude. We can bury him out back if you want."
"You can get another one if you want," Tatiana said.
"I want Clyde back! I don't want another one!" Jude said, glaring at his mom. "I don't wanna bury him!"
"He's dead, Judeikas. You have to bury him," Tatiana said sternly. "Letting him float there won't bring him back to life."
"Jude, buddy, I'm really sorry but Clyde isn't coming back," Syd said, kissing Jude's cheek. "You don't have to get another frog. Mom just didn't want you to be lonely without Clyde."
"He was just a frog, Judeikas. They don't live long," Tatiana said. But then she looked at his face as the tears started leaking onto his cheeks, and let out a sigh. She went over and brushed her hands through his dark hair. "But he was your frog. I'm sorry, Jude."
Jude squirmed until Syd set him down. "Get out," Jude sniffed, wiping at his eyes. He pointed at his bedroom door. "Get out!"
Tatiana resisted the urge to slap him for being so rude, reminding herself that he was just upset. Syd gave Jude's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before urging Tatiana out of the room and shutting the door.
Jude sat on his chair, looking at his motionless frog. He let the tears come and flow freely, burying his face against his hands as he cried.
He hated when he had no control over things. He hated that this was something he couldn't just snap his fingers and get. He hated losing something he cared so deeply for.
"Clyde," he sobbed into his hands, and wished he never had to lose things he loved.
#4- Leon Constance
Leon Constance crouched behind his couch as his brother passed through the living room. He peeked to make sure Adam was gone before creeping along the wall and slipping into the kitchen.
He hid himself behind the counter as Adam sat down at the table. Their mom, Abby, was there, getting dinner ready.
"Have you seen Leon?" Abby asked Adam.
"No," Adam said. "Where's my textbook? Dad said I have to study today."
"I think I put it in your room. It should be by your backpack," Abby said.
"You shouldn't have to ask your mother where the textbook is," George Constance said, entering the room. "You should be responsible enough to put your own things away, Adam."
"Oh, stop it, George. He's a child," Abby said. "Come help me with dinner."
"You need to be responsible for your own belongings, Adam," George said sternly.
Adam dropped his head. "Yes, dad. I'll go study."
He got up and started walking by the counter. Leon grinned to himself and sprung out, throwing his arms around Adam's waist.
"I got you!" he cried cheerfully.
Adam stumbled and barely caught his balance. He glared and shoved Leon off of him.
"Grow up!" he snapped. "You're so immature, Leon."
He stormed out of the room and Leon frowned. He dropped his head, shoulders slumping.
"Does anyone in this house know how to talk to a child?" Abby said in exasperation, going over to Leon and lifting him into her arms. "Hey, don't look sad. You are five years old, and there's no rush for you to grow up."
"I just wanted to play," Leon mumbled, putting his arms around her neck.
"You should study too, Leon. Come with me and we'll practice your reading," George said.
"It's been pouring rain all day. The poor boy is probably going crazy being trapped in the house for so long," Abby said.
"I practiced my reading all day yesterday," Leon said, frowning. "And my alphabet. And Caroline helped me practice my math!"
"After dinner I want you to read through at least one of your practice books with me," George said. He noticed the look Leon gave him and pointed a finger at him. "Don't look at me like that. You're a big boy, Leon. Remember what I told you about patience?"
Leon gave a reluctant nod. "I have to do things I don't want to," he mumbled. "I have to be patient."
Abby set Leon down and gave him a light shove towards the doorway. "Go play until dinner. Your brother and sister are studying, so try to keep it down, okay?" She kissed his head. "After you and dad finish reading tonight, we can watch The Lion King!"
Leon's face lit up. "Okay mom!"
He left the room and went up to his bedroom. He shut the door and began digging through his toys in search of something to do.
He picked up his plush Simba, settling it on his shoulder as he went around his room and set up his stuffed animals in little rows. He grabbed a piece of paper and taped it up on the wall, scribbling down math problems with a pen.
His bedroom door opened and George came in. He looked at the stuffed animals and the math problems curiously.
"What's this?" he asked.
Leon smiled widely. "I'm teaching! Like you, dad!"
George shook his head. "I'm not a teacher, Lee. I'm in charge of the school."
He went over and sat with the stuffed animals, nodding at Leon. Leon cocked his head to the side curiously.
"Go on," George said. "You're going to teach, aren't you? A teacher needs students."
Leon's face lit up and he began to teach his father and his stuffed animals. George corrected the few wrong answers Leon came up with, filled out the worksheets Leon made up, and let Leon read to him.
"Dinner!" Abby called.
The two got up and went downstairs, sitting at the table and eating. Leon babbled on happily about his teaching, and when dinner was over, he helped his family clean up.
"Go study," George said to Adam and Caroline. "Adam, put together that presentation. I want you to practice your public speaking."
The two nodded and left the room. Leon looked up at his father curiously.
"Are we gonna read, dad?" he asked.
George shook his head. "No, let's set that aside for tonight. I was thinking I'll join you and your mother and watch The Lion King."
Leon smiled in excitement. "Yea, okay, dad!"
The three went to the living room and put on the movie. Leon curled up in his dad's lap, his mood high.
#5- Beckett Townsend
"Emmett! Stop!" Beckett cried.
But his older brother snatched the Gameboy away from the six year old boy. Beckett scrambled off the couch as Emmett started walking away with it.
"Give it back!" Beckett said, grabbing Emmett's shirt and trying to tug him to a stop.
Emmett spun around and shoved Beckett so hard that Beckett fell to the ground with an audible thud. Beckett winced and Emmett grinned.
"You're such a dumb kid," Emmett said, kicking at Beckett.
Beckett put his arms up defensively and scrambled backwards. "Cut it out or I'll tell dad!"
"You're such a crybaby," Emmett said, kicking him one more time before heading downstairs. Beckett heard Emmett's bedroom door slam shut.
Beckett got to his feet, feeling frustrated. He wanted to tell his parents that Emmett had hurt him again, but he also didn't want Emmett to call him a tattletale or a baby.
So instead, he went to his bedroom and picked up his yo-yo, trying to practice the tricks his dad had taught him. But his frustration only grew as he couldn't get the tricks right, and he whipped the yo-yo at the wall angrily.
"Stupid!" he snapped.
"Beckett Matthias Townsend, are you throwing a temper tantrum?" his mother demanded, stepping into his room.
Beckett glared at the ground. "I got mad again."
She sighed. "What did we talk about? What are you supposed to do when you get mad?"
Beckett fidgeted, his anger giving way to guilt. "Play the piano."
"That always calms you down," she said, kneeling in front of him and forcing him to look at her. "Why don't you go play for an hour? You'll feel better."
"I don't wanna play the piano," he said.
"Then read a book. Dad brought home some books for you and Emmett. You can have first pick," she said. "Or you can play one of your spelling games on the computer. You have a spelling test coming up soon, don't you?"
"I studied for it," Beckett said. "I studied every night."
"You can never study too much," she said, standing up. She picked his yo-yo up and held it out to him. "Don't get frustrated with this, okay? It's just a toy. Your dad can only do a few simple tricks, and he's an adult."
Beckett took it from her and stared down at it, wishing he had his Gameboy back so he could play that instead. He watched as his mother left the room, and shut his door.
He set his yo-yo down and picked up his notebook, where he'd written down the words he needed to know how to spell for his tests this year. He knew he had to keep studying. Emmett had started his first year at Constance Academy, and he was always busy studying and doing homework.
Beckett's father had warned him that when he got to the Academy, the work would be really hard. But he'd told Beckett he knew Beckett was smart enough to handle it. Beckett didn't want to let him down.
Beckett sat on the floor, his back against his bed. He set the notebook in his lap and began to study, trying to keep his concentration. His parents kept making their own tests for him to take so he could be even smarter. He was starting to have trouble keeping up with all of the information, but he couldn't let them know that. They were always so proud whenever he did well.
But his focus was wavering today, and he tossed his notebook aside, tugging on his hair in frustration. He was bored and restless. He wanted to play outside.
So he got up and left his room, heading downstairs. He knocked on Emmett's bedroom door and looked up hopefully when Emmett pulled the door open.
"Do you want to play outside, Em?" he asked, smiling a little.
But his smile dropped as Emmett slapped him. "Don't bother me for something so stupid. No one wants to play with you."
Beckett rubbed his cheek and took a step back. "You don't have to be a jerk about it."
"You're just a freaky little kid who gets angry over everything," Emmett said and slammed his door.
Beckett glared at the closed door and kicked it. "You get angry over everything too, asshole!"
It was one of the words his parents had told him not to say, but it slipped out anyway. Beckett slapped a hand over his mouth and glanced at the stairs, nervous his parents would hear him and yell at him.
But no one came to yell at him, so Beckett went back up to his room. He sat on his bed, picking up his yo-yo again.
The kids in his class didn't like him. They mocked him for being a too-smart showoff, they called him the Hulk when he got angry, and they stayed away from him.
Beckett began to practice his tricks, letting his mind focus on that. He knew he could get too angry sometimes, but it just slipped out, like his bad language. He didn't mean to scare everyone away. No one was willing to brave his bad moods, so he was friendless.
His fingers were quick, and the yo-yo jumped easily from the floor to his palm. He let himself get lost in practicing with his yo-yo, having nothing else to do. They'd make fun of him for playing with his yo-yo in school, but it beat sitting there hugging his knees.
"Emmett's a jerk," Beckett muttered under his breath. "A stupid jerk. I don't need him to play with me."
Someday he'd make his own friends and he'd show Emmett. Beckett flung his yo-yo out and snapped it back into his palm, feeling that anger rising in him and shoving it down. His temper was getting worse lately, but he'd prove his brother and parents wrong. He'd get good grades and make friends and control his temper.
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A.N.- Let me know if you guys want more of these, and what characters you would want them for! (There's already a million for Ethan/Dimitri/Rio/Jace and the Marions, so please not them)