Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Special thanks go to DragonLadie for beating this story.
The claustrophobic square at the back of his room had become his refuge.
The lights were off, leaving his room in shadow.
He covered his ears with his pale, shaking hands in desperation to blot out the noise.
It was all his fault. He didn't mean to. He was just trying to help. He just wanted to help her make dinner, for once, but he fucked up and now everything was ruined.
Taking a deep breath he tried to still the harsh cries squeaking past his lips. He couldn't bear to let his parents see him like this – a tired, pathetic child crying because he couldn't take a little fighting. His father would never condone it; he'd tell him to man up, act his age – fifteen year olds didn't cry!
He pressed his hands down harder as their yelling squeezed through his grip.
"–n't take Shawn!"
"–ell I can–"
He pressed until his head felt like it was going to cave in. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't. He just wished they would stop. It's all my fault. All my fault. I'm sorry. So sorry.
Shuffling back, his hands still held firmly in place, he forced his way through the cluttered belongings in his closet. He gave them little acknowledgement in his haste to push himself as far back into the claustrophobic space as he could, only stopping when he hit a wall.
He tangled his hands in his thick brown hair, grasping the strands and pulling. The more pressure he could put on his body physically the more there was to alleviate the feelings threatening to consume him mentally. The further away he could send his mind the easier it became to forget their fighting. It was still there though, their constant quarrel, he could pretend it wasn't but it was still there. Nothing he did could prevent their crusade to have to the last word and that's what made this whole situation all the more unbearable.
"Please stop," he sobbed, bringing his hands down from his hair to cry into them. "I didn't mean it. I did– didn't mean to drop the roast. I'm sorry." He hugged his knees, his plea going unheard by all but the spiders hiding in the shadows.