Florence doesn't talk about his childhood much, and for good reason. It was pretty fucked up.

"Don't you put your fucking hands on me, Lindsey!"

"You fucked your coworker! I do what I want, you cheating cocksucker!"

The woman grabs a glass cup and throws it at the portion of wall right above the man's head. It shatters and the remnants litter themselves on his shoulders and in his blond hair.

"No, that's it, get the fuck out of my house."

"You should get out for fucking Pam!"

"I didn't do anything with her! You're fucking crazy, God." The man rests his forehead on the overhead cupboards. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and only opens them when he feels a slap on the back of his head.

"You're a lyin' bastard, you motherf-"

"I don't know if you're still blacked out from all the shit you drink, but you will never, ever lay your hands on me again. Listen," he bends his back slightly to look in her eyes, "I. Did. Not. Fuck. Pam. You're delusional. Get out of my house." He points at the front door, but makes the mistake of letting his fear get the best of him. His feet stumble over each other as he backs up, and his hands reach out to the counter to steady himself.

"You're fuckin' pathetic, be a man. Admit that you fucked her."

"Get. Out."

The woman turns and leaves with a bottle of 'mystery liquid' clutched in her ringed fingers.

The man, on the other hand, rushes to find his son. It takes some looking, but he tracks him down by listening to the choked cries.

He gets on his stomach and peers under the twin bed of the four year old.

"Florence... come here, buddy." When his son just cowers away and covers his ears, he holds out his palm, as if to comfort a skittish dog. "She's gone, it's alright. Daddy's safe. You're safe. We're okay."

Florence's mom, of course, stayed gone for a few days, but she always managed to come back like a fuckin' cockroach.

"Hey, baby. Mommy's missed you."

The woman strokes her son's cheek and catches his tears with her thumb.

"I'm scared, Mama." The boy starts to hyperventilate, but the mother is oblivious. His tears fall just as fast as his chest rises. His little hands come up to grab at his hair.

"Oh, don't be scared, Flo. Mommy's here."

The kid nudges his mom's hands away, but he doesn't escape them for long. They find him again, this time on his shoulders. His panic increases.

"M-Mama, lemme go."

"Be a big boy for me. Big boys don't cry."

His little sobs soon become little screams, and then the screams of his parents join in, except at each other. His dad calmly tells him to go to his room and lock the door.

This time, the mother does more than just a slap on the head. A bright red mark takes a place on his cheek, and blood joins it. One of her rings, the one on her pinky with the fake pink diamond, cut him open on the way out.

"Get out!" The mother - the wife, the woman, the daughter - looks at her husband all confused. "It was a mistake to ever let you see him. Get the fuck out."

"You're gonna get him killed one day, with how soft you both are. Setting my boy up for failure."

And then she's gone.

The father walks to his son's room, almost a little too slow, and knocks on the door.

"Bud, it's me."

There's only the sound of crying and slight screams.

"Open the door, Florence. She's gone."

There's a few moments of silence before the door opens, and the father envelops his son in a hug and showers him with comforting words.

She came back, again.

"Hi, my beautiful, beautiful boy. Awh, no, son, don't cry. It's okay."

The boy smells the liquor on her lips when she talks and the perfume on her wrists when she holds his cheeks, and it's all a bit too much; the feeling of her skin on his, the grating noise of her voice coming up through her throat, and even the way his socks hug his feet. He starts hyperventilating and screaming, and he's sent to his room and told to lock the door.

The parents go through the routine and it takes a bit longer to get the boy to open his door, but it's alright, because Lindsey is gone and the father and son are safe.

And again.

This time, when the boy runs to his room and locks his door, his mom doesn't target his dad. Instead, she power walks to the door with painted flowers and bees, and bangs on it.

"Open the fucking door, Florence! I need to talk to you, baby."

The boy sobs and screams. He rushes to hide under his bed, but the door is being knocked down and the screams don't deter Lindsey.

That was the first time Florence was punched. It was the last time for his mom to come back, though. His dad never reported shit, 'cuz a few months after Lindsey left, he died.

"Please don't do this to me, Dad. Please please please, Lord above, let me have this one thing," a young old Florence whispers into his dad's sheets. "Just let me win this one time." The tears didn't stop coming, and neither did his cries.

The neighbors found Florence screaming for help over his dad's body. As a five year old, he was too young to understand what happened, but in short, his dad killed himself. Pretty sad shit.

Since they couldn't find his mom, he had to go live with his grandma. She was sweet, but a bit of a fuckin' nut.

"Now, Florence, you can't get caught. It's not that we can't afford it, but here's the big question, you ready?" Florence's grandma holds out her hands and grins. The boy nods frantically. "'Why not?' Ya know? 'Why fuckin' not'?"

She also had a bunch of pets that he was scared shitless of, but he soon learned to love them. He made sure to take care of them every day, even after he started Kindergarten. Speaking of Kindergarten...

"My name's Florence. What's yours?"

"That's a cool name. Mine's Nathaniel, but I like Nate better."

"I do too. I have a dog named Nate and, um, you can come see him if you want, because, um, he's like, really cool," Florence stops to take a breath, because he has a habit of getting caught on words and running out of breath when he gets excited, "and also his name is Nate and you guys might get along. My gramma also has a, um, poop ton of food."

Little Nate gasps and giggles.

"Did you just say a bad word?"

Little Florence shrugs and looks away as if his heart isn't racing.

"I'm pretty cool like that. So... yeah you can come over and we can eat and we can, um, read all of my comic books and I can show you all my gramma's pets and she has a big spider that tried to bite my head off one time but I, like, fought it because it tried to, uh, spit fire at me," he takes a breath, "and stuff but I'll protect you so you don't have to worry about him."

"I'll come over today and you can stay the night on Friday. My mom can make us pizza."

Florence squints at the sun. His fingers fidget behind his back, so he puts them in his hair to distract himself from the unsettled feeling in his stomach. Something like fear sprouted in his chest.

"Do you have a gramma 'cuz I don't have a mama and mama's are kinda scary and your mama might try to eat me."

"My mom is super nice. If she tries to eat you I'll protect you."

Florence nods a little too much and almost knocks himself off his feet, but Nate doesn't mind.

"Why not? I'll come over. I think you are, uh, you are my best friend now, Nate."

"I'm glad. I think you're cool."

"I am. I'm really cool."

And ever since then, they kinda just stuck together forever. Nate, before he turned himself around, taught Florence everything he needed to know about having friends. And after he turned himself around, he taught him everything he needed to know about everything else. He was a pretty big influence on him all throughout his childhood. They were glued by the fuckin' hip.

Nate taught him how to work out, how to kiss (not with each other, because that'd be gay, so they used a pillow), how to smoke, how to pleasure himself (again, not with each other, because that'd also be gay, so he showed him a video), how to get girls, and how to be a man.

It was pretty fucked, and Florence knew all that, but Nate was his best friend, and it'd always been that way, so there was no reason to change it.

"Hey, hey, Florence, man." Nate taps the teen with his foot. Florence groans and nuzzles his nose into the blanket beneath him. "You gotta wake up. There's supposed to be this party and there's gonna be hella girls and beer."

"I don't like beer, fuckhead." He runs his hands through his hair and opens his eyes to the image of Nate standing over him, and if that isn't a sight...

"C'mon, don't go back to bed. We gotta go pick up Mckay and the drinks."

"Go fuckin'... do whatever. Pick me up later."

Nate rests a hand on his back and crouches down to meet his eyes. Florence grins.

"Do you want me to drag you out of bed?"

"I'll get out of bed if you get that good shit. No Bud Light or that other ass water you and your football buddies like to drink to knock you off your feet 'cuz you're so fuckin'... coordinated or whatever." Florence chuckles and musses up his friend's hair when he sees the look in his eyes. "I'm just fucking with you. I'll come with. Do you have an extra sweatshirt?"

"I still have one of yours from last time. Want that one?" Nate walks over to his closet and opens it. The other teen puckers his lips.

"Mm, no. Give me that, uhhhh, mossy foresty green one."

"That is yours, Ren."

"Um, no. I got it for you for your birthday. Dumbass."

Nate rolls his eyes and throws the aforementioned hoodie at the teen in bed, which hits him square in the face. Florence sits up and slips it on.

"Are you on your period today? Why are you being so whiny?"

"Does that turn you off? Kidding. I'm kidding. Let's go." He stumbles out of bed and doesn't bother checking his hair, because Nate already has that covered. The taller boy fixes the hairs that are off and perfects the ones that aren't.

"You don't have your shoes on."

"Fuck shoes, honestly. Fuck 'em."

Nate takes the lead out of the Jacobs house and into his truck, where Florence lays in the bed. When he feels the engine start, he gives the driver a thumbs up to go.

If there was one person who could take Nate's shit, it was Florence, and vice versa. It was fucking annoying, especially to Maddy - it got even worse when they fucked one night, because Florence was so much better than Nate in basically every way and she chose Nate and so did Florence.

If there was one thing Florence got from his dad, it'd probably be the "falling for terrible, terrible people and never getting back up" trait.