Day 2, (1/3)

When I wake up, this time it was morning.

I wake up to my body lying on its stomach, my head turned to my caged window, like I was waiting to see blue eyes stare at me through glass. Maybe in my dreams—lost and absent under reality, the sun casting its rays through imaginary fondness—I was waiting for those eyes to pierce me again, waiting at my window sil and hanging on my hopes like a oak tree.

I turn my head, realizing my phone slept on the dresser on the far right of me; I check the time and date.

7:01 A.M. November 1st, 2018.

I found the time odder than the date, mostly because it's an hour before school. By this time, my parents always make sure I'm up and awake, ready for the day. So, it confuses me—this oddity—this disruption of a pattern I normal follow on a school day—and I find myself wanting to discover the mishaps and truth behind why my eyes remain shut, when normally their wide open this time of day.

I jump out my bed and do the usually clean up; brush my teeth, wash my face and shower, put on a t-shirt and sweats with my (disgusting) soccer varsity jacket with clean socks, and grab my book bag, sports bag, and phone.

I jog down the stairs and head towards the kitchen before I see my parents and brother all down there, eating breakfast in awkward silence. I stare at the crime scene, the feeling of confusion from moments prior hitting me in my nerves again, caused by how everyone isn't out and about to work and the usual activities and is sitting, more interested in the meal prepared in front of them then each other.

"Good morning," I said, everyone stares at me, surprised, "why is everyone still here? I thought Zachary has school and you guys had work…why is everyone looking at me like that?"

My mum is the first one to speak, standing up and motioning for me to sit like I'm some sort of guest in my own home. It feels more abrasive than welcoming.

"Good morning," my mum said, "I thought you would still be asleep-."

"Asleep?" I look her up and down, confused, "But I have school today…"

"We know, bud," my pops intervenes. He clear his throat, putting down the glass of orange juice he stole a sip from. "But we decided to let you rest up today."

Zachary grumbles, annoyed. "I hope my bus gets hit by a train-."

My mom turns to glare at Zachary, furious. "You're lucky we agreed to bring you in late today. Hush and eat." Zachary rolls his eyes and picks at his food, cursing under his breath.

"I appreciate it mum, pops," I clear my throat, eyeing the front door as my escape route, "but I'm really okay-."

"Andrew," my father warily meets my eyes, like he doesn't want the conversation he knows is going to happen, to happen, "we need to talk about what happened last night."

I stand there, silently. It should've been easier to explain, but then I thought about how useless it might be. Will they even remember what I say, or is today's conversation only for today? Is it even worth going through the pain to talk about my hurt, my fears—my reasons for heart ache and numbing foils—when it's bound to be forgotten? Today may be an absent though, but tomorrow—tomorrow is wishful thinking.

"Nothing as serious as you think, guys—really." I feel lost, talking to my own parents. "I ran out of gas at the wrong time, so I got out and tried to call for help, but there was no connection."

I know my pops is staring at me, waiting for me to announce how at that moment, my own father failed me, hanging up the phone while I cried my eyes out, trying to live when the world wants me to die. Yet I don't; I lie and fill in gaps of the truth, so afraid of another boxing match, and too afraid of facing the truth myself.

"I didn't get anyone on the phone in time and the train just-." I take a minute to catch myself, my voice cracking. "You know. Nothing as serious as you think guys, really."

My parents stare at me, but I stare at the cold food on their plates.

"Okay buddy," my pops rubs his head, his short blond hair rustle under his palm. "We'll look into getting you a new car. We should talk to the police about it too, but we'll figure this out-."

"I will look into getting you a brand-new car," my mum glares at my pops before smiling at me, "why don't you take your time and eat? I can drop you off later if you-."

"No, it's fine. Really, mum." I said. "I just want to get to school. Have an in-class assignment. Can't miss it, you know?"

My two parents, lost and confused on how to comfort me, share a look.

"I'll take you to school, then." My pops rises, still locking eyes with my mum. "Your mother can drop Zach off before she gets to work."

My mum looks ready to protest, but I hurry to respond. "That's fine, thanks guys. I'm off, bye mum." I rush over to pat my brother's head and kiss my mum's cheeks before I slip my shoes on and hurry out the door. I wait a few minutes by my pops' car before he rushes out, keys in hand and jacket in the other. He opens the car and gives me a quick glance over before sliding in the driver's seat.

I silently get in the car and shut the door behind me, leaning against my seat and praying to God my pops doesn't start talking.

"Ready to get going, Andy?" He asked. I sigh, offering him a strain smile.

Why do I bother praying?

"Yes, pops," I nod my head, hoping that's the end, but my pops keeps going, even after he pulls out of the driveway.

"Are you sure you feel okay their bud?" I nod, wishing that a car will hit me and end this conversation.

"Yes, I-I'm fine." My pops slows down to roll over the train tracks, making my flinch and scurry in my seat, "please hurry over those." I mumble softly under my breath, only realizing what I said after I said it.

My pops frowns, wanting to comment more so I turn up the radio, hoping that'll give him the hint to stop further conversations with me.

It sadly doesn't.

"Maybe you should have stayed home bud," I love you pops, but please stop talking. "You look tired their buddy."

"I'm fine, pops. Really." I said, my tone laced with edge.

The light turns red to green; there's silence between us for a minute, but only a minute.

"You didn't tell mum you phoned me." My pops suddenly said.

I look over to my pops, his eyes are on the road, but his fingers rapidly tap the steering wheel.

"I didn't." I said.

"Why?" He asked.

I clear my throat. "I didn't want another argument." I said, hoping that answer would be enough.

He pulls in and parks in front of my school, his hands gripping the wheel tightly.

"You were calling me for help." He said.

"It's okay pops." I said. I smile, holding his hand on the steering wheel in comfort. "It wasn't intentional."

"How many times will you say that, bud?" My pops asked.

"Say what?" I asked, watching my pops stiffen in his seat, his hands clutching the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles stain white.

"That it's okay," he turns to me, "when we both know it isn't."

I sit there in his car, silently, without comment. My pops rubs his temples, a habit he does when he's upset.

"I let you down." He said flatly.

I jump out my seat, shaking my head, my heart pounding in my chest, feeling a sudden sense of responsibility to make sure my pops confidence in his parenthood is safe and sound.

"N-no, pops." I said, but I want to say 'yes, you did. You left me there crying and pleading for you when you hung up, long gone and me long forgotten.' But I don't because I'm too scared to hurt my pops like he hurt me. "You didn't-."

"You don't need to try to make me feel like a less shitty father, Andy," he said. I look away, unable to respond, "that's not your job."

Neither of us speaks, and for the first time, ironically, I wish my pops would say something.

"I'll see you later, pops." I get out the car, swing my bags over my shoulder, and make sure to not look back, even when he pulls off. Because I know he turned to give me that look, the one where he wants me to speak my mind, but I can't. I can't be a burden and make him worry. I can't be the catalyst for another argument. I can't help but fear speaking my mind, only for my family to forget I ever spoke it.

"And what a surprise." I turned to see Kyle and Jessi, walking up from the parking lot and greeting me. Kyle hurriedly offers a hand which I take, switching from a handshake to hug instantly. "No car today?" He asked.

"Broke down on the way home yesterday," I said, and I don't bother with the details, too wary of Kyle's reaction. Jessi and I high five, smoothly ending with both of our hands in our own pockets. "Had my pops bring me today."

"Bummer," Kyle said. The three of us walk through the entrance, waving and greeting people here and there, "I would've picked you up and grabbed food dude."

I snorted. "You got money for that?"

Jessi rolls her eyes, "He doesn't, but I do. Mechanic internships pay nicely."

"Next time,"I said, my voice reassuring and my eyes wander away from them, "maybe another time-."

And I see him, giant Sebastian going through his locker, people brushing past him as he's looking through a textbook, seeming to try to memorize something quickly. I almost want to go to him and ask him what he's memorizing, but the bell rings and my two best friends stop me.

"Headed to math?" Jessi asked. I nod, resulting in Jessi scrunching up her nose. "Great, off to cooking class. Gross."

Kyle shrugs, a smile on his face. "It's not too bad, I mean we're partners after all."

Jessi smiles, satisfied. "Gratefully." She said.

I absorb the exchange, in a sort of "something is up," kind of way, but I don't comment, making my way to my class.

I wait through math, drearily.

I wait through art, bored.

Third period, I have lunch.

I head over to the lunchroom, meeting Jessi, Kyle, and a few other teammates along the way. I exchange a few jokes and playfully banter with Jessi and Kyle until Darmenly, lovely Darmenly, slides in unwelcomed and decides to butt in.

"Here he is, the nerdiest jock of them all," Darmenly said, a mocking smile to his voice. Jessi rolls her eyes in my stead. "You were very excited to answer a few first-grade math problems."

"You're right," I laugh, "anyone can answer those questions. I'm nothing really special-."

Darmenly snickers, agreeing."So Darmenly, what's 45x + x=105?" I asked, a small smile plastered on my face.

The whole table looks at Darmenly in anticipation. Darmenly's face slowly turns red, his black eyes directing a nasty, angry glare straight my way.

"Fuck off, Jones." He said.

"First-grade math problems, am I right?" I asked Kyle; Kyle rolls his eyes, cackling at Darmenly's embarrassed face.

I turn my head, rolling my eyes at both Darmenly's and my own childish behavior.

And then I see him.

Sebastian, the one with dark hair and grey eyes. The tall giant who's walking by people, his head down and his hands stuck in his pockets. He's heading to the lunchroom, but my feet are dragging me to his direction, intersecting in front of the cafeteria's doors. Sebastian first eyes my shoes before he lifts his head, slowly looking up, staring at me with wide eyes.

I don't know what expression I'm wearing, nor do what I know what to say, too lost in my own bizarre actions to take further action. I want to ask and say so much to him; I want to be alone with him, kind of like yesterday on the roof, because it feels like safety. It feels like I'm running away from all this chaos and craziness, the things that turns my life in a series of mishaps of meticulous color, distorting what my reality is and what is fake—a mirage of misery.

"H-hey-um-I-I hope I'm not bothering you." I said, barely able to stutter my thoughts out. Sebastian furiously shakes his head. He looks at the direction of the table I just came from before quickly looks in another direction, like something just scared him off.

"I-if you have a few minutes," I continue, trying to stop my hands from shaking out of nervousness, "c-can I talk to you?" Sebastian looks at me like he doesn't know how to respond, too focused on looking down at me in surprise. He opens his mouth and takes a minute to stand there, oblivious, before he nods, quietly and obscure.

"Andy," Kyle comes over; he's is the one to speak, the group sitting at the table look at Sebastian like he's inhuman, evil. "What's going on?"

I gulp, motioning to Sebastian. "I needed to-uh-to talk to Sebastian about-."

"Him," Kyle scowls at Sebastian, "what's going on?"

"Alone," I suddenly say, surprisingly Kyle and Sebastian both, "I need to talk to him, alone about-um-something private. I'm sorry."

"You sure you want to go alone?" Jessi asked. Darmenly suddenly throws his arm around her, which she throws it off her in the same moment.

"Why are you both so on edge," Darmenly asked, "let Jones confess his undying love to mister-Rich-Asians three."

I open my mouth to to defend Sebastian, but Sebastian just grabs my shoulder, pulling me back closer to him, like he's protecting me.

"Shut your mouth." Sebastian said, which surprises everyone at the table, shit, it surprises me.

"What did-?" Darmenly looks ready to get up from his chair, but it's Jessi who pushes a hand to Darmenly's chest, stopping him.

Kyle glares at Sebastian, ready to say something himself, but Sebastian intervenes.

"Okay," Sebastian grabs my bicep, pulling me away, "let's go." He said, motioning to the lunchroom's doors.

I hear Kyle protest in the background, Jessi quickly getting up pulling him back and stopping him. I hear whispers and digs, eyes glued to us like we're animals in a caged zoo, placed in a prison not for entertainment, but because to the world, we aren't anything but mammals--an abnormality--alien.

I won't lie; it gets a little under my skin--these judgmental gazes--so I draw my eyes to focus on Sebastian's back, his pale ear covered by dark strains of hair. I focus on his pale neck, his small moles and freckles, his Adams apple that bobs nervously, leisurely with every loud gulp, like it's hard for him to swallow.

And then Sebastian looks back at me, his eyes mixed with a hint of sapphire.