Four of Wands

CHAPTER TWO

Football game Friday
Daichi is dragging me there
I will be freezing

Spencer sets down his notebook, stretching his legs. His knees brushed the underside of his cramped desk. He pushed out of his chair, wobbling as he stepped out. He leans back, vertebrae popping one by one. He lays down on his bed next to his plain black backpack. He zips the large zipper methodically, smiling at the sensation underneath his finger. He kicks the bag to the side, landing with a quiet 'thunk.'

Spencer rolls onto his back, stretching his legs. His fingertips reach for the corners of his bed, toes pointing as gracefully as a ballerina. He closed his eyes for a moment, simply for the sensation of his eyelids closing. He turned over onto his stomach, feeling every part of his body flop. Spencer groaned slightly, feeling the mattress hit the bottom of himself. He wiggled ever so slightly, his legs resting on the bed unevenly. He flipped over again, now on his right side.

He got out of bed, sighing heavily. He hops onto the carpet and finds the worn patches that served as markers of his past. His parents have lived in this house for 20 years and have never replaced the carpeting. He almost reached for his door handle, then politely declined against it. He pushes out a sigh, throwing up his hands. He clenched his body, trying to get any sensation out of it.

He didn't get it. He didn't understand the feeling of bugs crawling under his skin, writhing. He didn't understand the ticking time bomb in his chest. He didn't understand the urge to get some sensation under his fingers. He's felt it since he was a kid. He felt the all-too-familiar buildup of energy with no release. His hands grabbed desperately at his hair, but he hated the texture. It was too coarse, feeling like sandpaper under his nails. He wipes his hands on his pants, trying to get the feeling off his hands.

He paced quicker, finding the circles in his carpet worn years ago. He liked the pattern of familiarity he had now, unlike the first time he had this feeling.

"Why can't I lay on the carpet?" He had asked his Kindergarten teacher.

"It's nap time, sweetheart. You have to lay on the cots." She had said, bending down to him.

"But the cots are itchy, and I hate it. It makes my skin feel weird," Spencer whined. He felt like he was on fire whenever he laid on them.

"But hon, it just has to be this way."

"No!" He had wrenched his arm from her tiny hand, making a dive for the carpeting. She grabbed the back of his shirt on instinct, leaving him level with her thighs.

And he swung.

He didn't remember those times fondly, but he did remember crotch-punching his teacher fondly.

Spencer stumbles, ever so slightly, and falls.

He feels it immediately. The pain shoots up from the base of his nose to the top of his skull. He gasps, catching carpet fibers in his mouth. He rolls onto his side and attempts to prevent blood stains on the carpeting.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, not my nose," he mutters, breathing in through his mouth. He grabs his phone with one hand, keeping his nose covered. He unlocks it frantically. Daichi's profile pic sits at the top of his messages.

Spencer: CAN I CALL U RQ

Spencer: CODE RED, MY GUY

His phone rings seconds later.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" Spencer didn't raise his phone to his phone, yet he could hear his frantic friend.

"I may have broken my nose." The nasal sound of his voice grates his ears. "Scratch that, broke my nose." He pulls his fingers away, bright red blood gliding down his palm.