if home is really where the heart is

(then we're the smartest kids i know)

Michael freezes in his tracks. Even though he's facing away, Gob can see him tense up. Can see him grit his teeth. "Dad didn't make me any way."

"Like you really believe that." Gob sits down, relaxing a little. "The man wouldn't even let me pick my own name. Not that I'm too upset about it, that's a lot of responsibility. But still. He's a control freak, and he made you like that too. Except you're worse than him, Mikey. You're like dad, and worse."

And then the confidence fades, and Gob can feel Michael's rage. He turns to Gob, spitfire, and practically yells. "I am nothing like Dad." He points a shaking finger. "I'm nothing like him, and I never will be."

Gob smiles despite himself. "Maybe not. Only time will tell. But I did it."

Michael looks like he's running equations, his mind racing. "You..." He lowers his hand, but he's just as angry. "You did what?"

"I told you." Gob smiles a little wider. "Well, kind of. But I was smart about it. I made you angry about something else instead of what I was scared to say."

And he can see the gears working behind Michael's eyes. Turning and twisting as his expression softens. "Dad... wouldn't let you pick your own name. Dad didn't let any of us pick our own names, we got named as kids. People don't pick their own names--"

Gob raises an eyebrow, and Michael stops.

"I don't like my name," is all Gob says. Michael is smart. He'll figure it out.

Michael's eyebrows furrow. He steadies himself against the counter and then pulls himself into a seat. "Why not?"

Gob laughs, and the desperate quality has seeped back. "It's too girly, Mikey. I don't want a girl's name."

Michael softens, and then he's sharp and squared again, all business. "So you're-- You're..."

"Your big brother?" And Gob is so desperate, he's so desperate. He winces prematurely.

Admittedly, he cares a bit too much about what Michael thinks of him. Telling Michael is harder than... well, telling anyone else, really.

Michael breathes out a sigh. "My big brother." His voice is heavy and his eyes are darting from Gob to the ground and back up to Gob.

Gob starts to cry right then and there. Something rushes through his body, and he's warm and cold at the same time. He trips over his tongue and apologizes -- at least he thinks he's apologizing, it's a bit hard to register.

Michael's eyes keep flickering. Eventually, he speaks up quietly.

"I think I'm gonna go get some work done."

He turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Gob's head hits the counter. He's not sure how long it stays down, but he knows it doesn't come back up when Tracey opens the front door.

He can feel her eyes on him. She stops on the steps and shouts: "Michael? Your sister is crying at the counter again!"

Gob finally looks up, his face stained, and studies Tracey. She looks tired. "Actually--" He manages a weak smile. "I'm his brother. But thanks for the concern, Tracey."

Tracey's eyes dart to where Michael left, and she rushes to put George Michael down. Gob's immediate thought is that she's repulsed, but then she comes back and sits down next to him.

"What did he do?" Tracey immediately asks.

Gob stares blankly at the counter in front of him. "He didn't do anything."

Tracey laughs, clear, and shakes her head. "He's in there running his pencil down 'cause he's writing so hard, and you've been out here crying for who knows how long. What did he do?"

Gob sighs and rubs his eyes, and it stings. "I don't know," He admits. "I just... I told him, and he... walked away. To do some work."

Tracey sighs a little, drawing her finger along the counter. "I'm sorry about him. He just doesn't know how to handle things sometimes."

"Believe me." Gob laughs, but he feels like his throat is closing up. "I know. He just... I told my dad, like, last week. And I was so scared to tell Michael. That's why." He gestures weakly towards where he's sure Michael's broken his pencil. "He probably hates me now."

Tracey's eyes soften. "I'm sure he doesn't hate you, he probably just needs time to think." She hesitates. "...what's your name?"

Gob laughs again. It's weak. "Dad made me take his name. But it's not really mine. So I just kinda... I guess, I'm going by Gob. My-- My initials, 'cause--"

"You don't need to explain." Tracey's mouth twitches into a smile. "Gob, alright. Fair enough. A dick move on his part. To name you after him, the bastard."

"Yeah." Gob smiles back at her. A real smile, despite how small it might be. "But at least he doesn't hate me any more than he already did."

There's a pause. Tracey's hand lands on Gob's shoulder as she stands up. "I'm gonna go have a word with Michael." She smiles a little wider. "I'll talk to you later, Gob. You should go home. Get some rest."

So Gob walks out the door with his head up for once. Maybe... maybe he'll be okay.