Chapter Text
Frerin never truly felt close to anyone except his brother. Sure, they had plenty of friends, but most of those guys were Thorin’s friends, and they just let Frerin tag along because he was old enough to keep secrets. No one minded that he was two grades below them, no one thought much about graduating and leaving him behind.
Similarly, Frerin didn’t think much when one friend, Bofur, mentioned that his uncle took a boy in. It wasn’t like Frerin had ever met Bofur’s uncle, or ever planned to meet Bofur’s uncle. Why would he?
Frerin shoved a cookie in his mouth and listened as Bofur went on about this new boy, a long time friend of his that had lost his parents in some tragic tale and was now moving in to be with Bofur’s uncle. They had met long ago and Bofur so kindly offered to help the boy out with family troubles, which somehow ended up with Bofur gaining a “cousin” and a new student joining their table next semester. There was never a problem with new friends joining their group— of course, they took in him and Nori’s younger brother when they both struggled to make friends their age— but so far, the whole friend group had known each other for years. Most of them were somehow related. So, that being said, it would not be an easy task to ease into such a friend group.
Still, a new kid would soon have to join them, and maybe even fit in.
After lunch was dismissed, Frerin followed Bofur to the art class they had together. Neither of them could even draw a stick figure, but they needed the credits and picked whatever class seemed easiest to take. They sat together, naturally, though rarely spoke until now. Bofur was still going on about his dear friend, which made him want to rip his head off, but Frerin listened carefully and held back any teasing. He learned this friend was from far away, an only child, and just the year above him. This friend would not be able to start classes until the second semester, but that wouldn’t cause any trouble for his graduation credits. The more Bofur spoke about his friend, the less Frerin found himself interested, so he anxiously tapped his pen until either Bofur shut the hell up or the class ended.
***
About a mile from Frerin’s house, his grandfather’s cousin— also Dwalin’s grandfather— owned a bar. His father, Thrain, frequented that bar, and his mother had to deal with his fussy little sister, which often left Frerin and his brother getting bored and running off to “misbehave.”
On this particular night, they dragged Dwalin, Nori, and Bofur out to join them. Gloin’s brother was visiting from college, so he couldn’t make it, and Ori wanted to stay home and study for the English final (the final that Frerin was prepared to fail).
So far, the five of them had talked a gas station employee into selling them alcohol and cigarettes even though they were underage, stolen a liter of pop, and walked down to a small playground. Nori and Bofur were competing to see who could swing the highest, but Bofur had an open beer bottle in his hand and was making a mess with every swing. Dwalin and Thorin were sitting at the base of a slide, both with a cigarette in one hand and beer in the other, while Frerin sat at the top and scribbled phallic symbols in permanent marker with a devilish grin on his face.
Dwalin broke the silence with a thoughtful hum, “So, Bofur’s friend. You ever seen him before?”
Thorin shook his head, blowing out smoke. Frerin looked up from where he was drawing and let out a small chuckle, “Haven’t seen him, but I basically know him. Bofur talked my ear off all day today in art class, wouldn’t shut up about it.”
Dwalin grunted at that. Thorin looked up and spoke, “What did he tell you?”
“Just more about his friend’s sad life story. His parents are dead, he’s an only child, his family doesn’t want him, yada yada. He thinks his friend will fit in with us just fine, but I’m not too sure ‘bout that.”
“Hm.. As long as he can keep secrets and have fun, he’ll be okay.”
Frerin had nothing to say to that, so he just capped his marker and slid down the slide, grabbing a beer.
He watched as Dwalin took a slow sip— strands of his brown mohawk falling down over his forehead, ears covered in metal, tattooed knuckles. He had too many piercings, always wanting to prove his pain tolerance in the worst ways. Frerin thought there were likely more he couldn’t see; more he would never want to see. He was the tallest of their group, and the toughest.
Then there was Thorin, Frerin’s brother. Long black hair, sometimes he wore tiny braids in front of his ears, and no one told him how ridiculously stupid it looked. He also had ear piercings, though far less than Dwalin. One thing about him was that he preferred to only wear black, occasionally throwing in a dark blue, but mostly just black. He wore plenty of smudged eyeliner; Frerin liked to copy this look, but it left his eyes burning so he couldn’t do it often.
Frerin’s hair was a light brown, and he liked to keep it long, though not as long as his brother’s. They had the same light blue eyes as everyone else on their father’s side of the family, and pretty similar noses.
And then there was Nori. He preferred to spike his hair up, but it always fell down and looked silly. No one would tell him so. Nori was always stealing things, usually the one in the group to snatch all of their alcohol (probably getting it from his brother) and weed. Frerin was sure he’d been to juvie before, but did not know how to prove it.
And, of course, Bofur. His hair was about as long as Thorin’s, but it was a lighter brown color and constantly worn in two stupid looking braids with a stupid looking hat always on his head. Frerin didn’t think much of him; he was funny, the nicest of the group, but also the dumbest. Bofur also liked to copy Thorin’s smudgy eyeliner look, but he had to fight off Nori’s endless teasing for “looking like a girl.”
Gloin and Ori, the absent ones, both had red hair, but Gloin’s was more flaming red compared to Ori’s dull red. Gloin had very big, very long hair, and his matching beard aged him up about twenty years. He often skipped out on hang outs to spend time with his family or his new girlfriend, but no one minded as long as he continued to sit with them during lunch. Ori, the quiet kid, was less of a troublemaker than anyone and only joined if Nori bribed him with another book to read, or if Dori was getting on his nerves too much. He had a stupid looking bowl cut, courtesy of his eldest brother, and most of his clothes were also made by him.
He realized he had been staring too long at Dwalin when a loud thud pulled him out of his thoughts— Bofur was now on the ground, sprawled out in front of the swing-set and clutching his stomach, with a still swinging Nori slowing down to check on him. Dwalin began laughing his ass off as Thorin got up and made his way over to check on Bofur, just to find out he was fine and jumped “on purpose,” though he regretted wasting half a bottle of beer on his stupid stunt.
Not long after that had happened, the group dispersed. Even later into the night, Thorin and Frerin snuck through their back door and took some of their father’s vodka up into Frerin’s room.
Frerin envied the way Thorin could drink with no problem. He fought back any insults about him being light weight by bringing up Thorin’s most embarrassing moments, and if his words began to slur, he was having too much fun to care.
Thorin smacked him over the head after enough teasing and laughed, “So, any ladies been asking you out?”
Frerin giggled, “Hellllll no! The only time girls talk to me is when they- when they’re asking for your number!” And, wow, he felt real silly now.
“Well, a certain someone told me there’s a boy. That really likes you.”
Frerin shook his head, “Who?”
Thorin dropped his voice into a whisper and peered up at Frerin with a mischievous look in his eyes, “Mmm.. someone that you know.”
“Someone that I know? Poor… person,” he sputtered out a laugh.
“Oh yes, you know him veryyy well. Mhm. A very good friend of yours. Of ours.”
“Oh, please don’t tell me. I’m not interested in any of our… beasts.” That had both Durin boys laughing a little too hard, and soon Frerin was yelling at Thorin to not spill any vodka onto his bedding.
“You best be careful, Frerin. Don’t go breaking any hearts now. But, I won’t tell you. I’ll just let it drive you crazy.”
Frerin whined, “Nooo, Thorin! That’s not fairrrr!”
Thorin just smiled and took another swig, slightly choking when he made a small realization, “Frerin, Frerin, what time is it?”
“What time?” He looked over at his clock, an old digital clock decorated as the galaxy that he got as a small child, “it’s almost three, why?”
Thorin paused, thinking, “Don’t we have school? In… four hours? And… don’t you have that test?”
Frerin huffed and put his hand over his mouth, processing that. Then, muffled, he spoke, “Oh, shit.”