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peachiesclosetThis is the fic I wrote this year for Candy Hearts Exchange! In some weird way, the fact we know so little about Brad and Dustin's relationship with each other is a piece of fridge brilliance. We know LISA: The Painful RPG is shown through Brad's perspective, yet even when we're let into his POV, Brad is cagey as hell and has repressed a lot of memories of his past life, both good and bad. That said, I still wish we got to know more about him and Dustin, especially because Brad clearly meant a lot to Rando even after the dojo incident. Dusty seeing Brad in a more favorable light while Buddy was more resentful would've been such a fun thing to explore in Joyful, but alas. At least we got fanfiction to fill the gaps! :D
Title: When everything's made to be broken
Author: Puri
Fandom: LISA: The Painful RPG
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Referenced drug addiction and alcoholism, referenced child neglect, aftermath of facial disfigurement, dysfunctional family drama. Brad sucks at parenting, RIP
Ships/Characters: Dustin Armstrong and Brad Armstrong
Finished: Yes
Dustin’s face is wrapped in bandages by the time he wakes up in the hospital. The pain is still there, raw and searing despite the medication given to him. He wanted the destruction of the dojo to be a bad dream. Bernard wouldn’t do something like that, Bernard was still his friend, and there’s no way he would do… that to him. But the part howling inside Dustin knew—this was weeks in the making, he saw all the signs; he just didn’t want to believe it could happen.
Brad had been acting strange lately. He didn’t speak to Dusty as much as he used to, and he’d been too tired to watch movies or go to the park with him. Often he’d be passed out on the couch with an empty bottle or two on the floor, and be late to teach martial arts lessons. He walked in some kind of daze, and the shadows under his eyes grew longer and darker. Worst of all was when Brad had a migraine; he’d bark at Dusty for silence if he made the slightest sound, and it was like he turned into a different person entirely—almost like a monster. When Brad was like this, he was no longer his father. He wasn’t the kind man who took him in and sheltered him, who told him he had potential as a martial artist. He wasn’t the man who stood up for him when the other kids mocked him for his stutter, the one who told him he wasn’t stupid no matter what his teachers said about him. He wasn’t the man who cared about him and loved him.
Dustin didn’t think Brad would show up at the hospital in case he was “sick” again. So when the nurse notified him he had come to visit, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Brad no longer wore his gi when he arrived at his bedside. It was the suit he rented when he left one day to “attend something important” but never elaborated further. Had he forgotten to return it? Dusty was relieved to see Brad again, but the blank stoic face of his mentor’s eyes dropped dread in him like a stone. He had to have failed pretty badly for Brad to come all this way to see him, didn’t he? He barely responded when he found him at the trashed dojo, then he just… left him there…
“B-B-Brad?” Dustin said.
“Hey.”
“I’m s-sorry. I’m so… s-s-sorry…”
Brad said nothing. He wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Dustin swallowed, gripping the sheets of his hospital bed. It was the face, wasn’t it? The symbol of his failure to protect the dojo. What would become of him now that his face was like this? He thought of the Phantom from Phantom of the Opera—a man so beaten down and treated cruelly for his disfigurement that he lashed out against the world for it. Would he end up like that too? Is that what Brad expected him to become?
“Am I… b-b-bad?” Dustin asked.
Silence.
“This f-face… am I b-bad? Am I… a monster?”
Brad cracked.
A repressed sob pushed its way past the former martial artist’s throat. He clenched his teeth and his hands balled against his legs, and the tears dropped one by one. He nearly collapsed over Dusty—the odd barrier that seemed to prevent him from holding his son was still there, but he was closer than he’d ever been. Small wails spilled from his form, and his face became blotched, scarlet, and soaked.
“No…” Brad croaked. “No no no… A fff-fa-face is nothing. The inside… Th-That’s what matters. I’m s-so sorry. None of this… None of this is y-your f-f-fault…”
Dusty said nothing. His bandages grew wet around the eyes—apparently he could still cry. He couldn’t tell if this was something he should be glad for or ashamed of.
“I’ve been… f-f-fucked up. I let this happen…” Brad continued. “I’m going… I’m going to get clean. I’ve stopped... stopped drinking… the p-painkillers too. Everything. I’m… I’m doing it for you… Du-Dusty…”
Dustin yearned to reach out and embrace him, but he didn’t want to cause trouble. So he comforted his father in the next best way, no matter how much he stumbled—his words.
“I love you… B-B-Brad.”
~
It wasn’t long ago that the Flash happened. Dustin was still in the hospital while the ensuing panic happened—the remaining male doctors and few male nurses were all the facility had left. Olathe transformed into a mess overnight and Brad disappeared. No matter how long and how far Dusty searched, he was nowhere to be found. He didn’t know what became of Brad and if he ever fulfilled his promise to overcome his vices. Dusty was on his own. Yet through all this, Dustin remembered Brad’s final lesson: a face was just a face. Your suffering did not define you. He would never lose his kindness or his conviction to do the right thing, no matter what.
Title: When everything's made to be broken
Author: Puri
Fandom: LISA: The Painful RPG
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Referenced drug addiction and alcoholism, referenced child neglect, aftermath of facial disfigurement, dysfunctional family drama. Brad sucks at parenting, RIP
Ships/Characters: Dustin Armstrong and Brad Armstrong
Finished: Yes
Dustin’s face is wrapped in bandages by the time he wakes up in the hospital. The pain is still there, raw and searing despite the medication given to him. He wanted the destruction of the dojo to be a bad dream. Bernard wouldn’t do something like that, Bernard was still his friend, and there’s no way he would do… that to him. But the part howling inside Dustin knew—this was weeks in the making, he saw all the signs; he just didn’t want to believe it could happen.
Brad had been acting strange lately. He didn’t speak to Dusty as much as he used to, and he’d been too tired to watch movies or go to the park with him. Often he’d be passed out on the couch with an empty bottle or two on the floor, and be late to teach martial arts lessons. He walked in some kind of daze, and the shadows under his eyes grew longer and darker. Worst of all was when Brad had a migraine; he’d bark at Dusty for silence if he made the slightest sound, and it was like he turned into a different person entirely—almost like a monster. When Brad was like this, he was no longer his father. He wasn’t the kind man who took him in and sheltered him, who told him he had potential as a martial artist. He wasn’t the man who stood up for him when the other kids mocked him for his stutter, the one who told him he wasn’t stupid no matter what his teachers said about him. He wasn’t the man who cared about him and loved him.
Dustin didn’t think Brad would show up at the hospital in case he was “sick” again. So when the nurse notified him he had come to visit, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Brad no longer wore his gi when he arrived at his bedside. It was the suit he rented when he left one day to “attend something important” but never elaborated further. Had he forgotten to return it? Dusty was relieved to see Brad again, but the blank stoic face of his mentor’s eyes dropped dread in him like a stone. He had to have failed pretty badly for Brad to come all this way to see him, didn’t he? He barely responded when he found him at the trashed dojo, then he just… left him there…
“B-B-Brad?” Dustin said.
“Hey.”
“I’m s-sorry. I’m so… s-s-sorry…”
Brad said nothing. He wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Dustin swallowed, gripping the sheets of his hospital bed. It was the face, wasn’t it? The symbol of his failure to protect the dojo. What would become of him now that his face was like this? He thought of the Phantom from Phantom of the Opera—a man so beaten down and treated cruelly for his disfigurement that he lashed out against the world for it. Would he end up like that too? Is that what Brad expected him to become?
“Am I… b-b-bad?” Dustin asked.
Silence.
“This f-face… am I b-bad? Am I… a monster?”
Brad cracked.
A repressed sob pushed its way past the former martial artist’s throat. He clenched his teeth and his hands balled against his legs, and the tears dropped one by one. He nearly collapsed over Dusty—the odd barrier that seemed to prevent him from holding his son was still there, but he was closer than he’d ever been. Small wails spilled from his form, and his face became blotched, scarlet, and soaked.
“No…” Brad croaked. “No no no… A fff-fa-face is nothing. The inside… Th-That’s what matters. I’m s-so sorry. None of this… None of this is y-your f-f-fault…”
Dusty said nothing. His bandages grew wet around the eyes—apparently he could still cry. He couldn’t tell if this was something he should be glad for or ashamed of.
“I’ve been… f-f-fucked up. I let this happen…” Brad continued. “I’m going… I’m going to get clean. I’ve stopped... stopped drinking… the p-painkillers too. Everything. I’m… I’m doing it for you… Du-Dusty…”
Dustin yearned to reach out and embrace him, but he didn’t want to cause trouble. So he comforted his father in the next best way, no matter how much he stumbled—his words.
“I love you… B-B-Brad.”
~
It wasn’t long ago that the Flash happened. Dustin was still in the hospital while the ensuing panic happened—the remaining male doctors and few male nurses were all the facility had left. Olathe transformed into a mess overnight and Brad disappeared. No matter how long and how far Dusty searched, he was nowhere to be found. He didn’t know what became of Brad and if he ever fulfilled his promise to overcome his vices. Dusty was on his own. Yet through all this, Dustin remembered Brad’s final lesson: a face was just a face. Your suffering did not define you. He would never lose his kindness or his conviction to do the right thing, no matter what.
