Fiddleford frowned at Fordās failure to deliver a direct answer to his question and resumed his search, diving back underneath his bed. He fumbled around until his hand found his flashlight and he clicked it on. He used it to illuminate the dark, cramped quarters beneath his sleeping area, sweeping the beam around for a while before giving up. As he withdrew from the recesses of his junk hoard, he bumped his head on the bed frame. āGod fucking- sweet Lord aboveā¦ā
He took Stanfordās advice and paused a moment to breathe, his hands clenching and unclenching uncontrollably where they rested on his knees. The gentle baritone of Stanfordās voice soothed his nerves enough for the curses to evaporate back into the usual excuses for swear words that were common in Fiddlefordās peculiar vernacular. āThat- that grain-siftinā, barn-raidingā¦ā he trailed of, taking a few deep breaths. His leg muscles twitched uncontrollably and his foot tapped erratically on the floor, betraying his frustration.
āAlright. Alright. Thisā¦ this bastardā¦ this absolute freelancinā bastard from my theoretical physics class, nameās Gabe, heā¦ā Fiddleford gave a sigh. āDecided it would be a good idea to yank it off my back and smash it right in front of me. Doesnāt seem to have a reason that I can decipher. He and his buddies just jave a heck of a time watchinā me squirm, I think, ān Iā¦ I just let them. I-I can usually deal with stuff like this, y'know? I can handle it on my own. But I justā¦ donāt know what to do.ā Trembling fingers dug into the fabric of his jeans. āItās justā¦ this was a gift from my dad, ānā¦ā He bit his lip to try to keep the tears from coming, but they began pooling in the corners of his eyes despite his best efforts. "Iāve done nothing to antagonize āem, I swear. Iām justā¦ being me.ā He furiously wiped the tears away. āItās dumb, is what it is. Itās stupid.ā He couldnāt even handle a couple of dumb bullies, and he hated himself for it.
