With Their Eyes Filled With Stars

.39.

The fan whirs round on the empty wooden desk. From the next room, the soft dripping of a tap can be heard. Although the room is hot, it's dark. Grey clouds blocking out the blue sky outside. A fly repetitively pats against the glass window as it desperately attempts to escape the dirty-green painted bedroom.

He sits on his bed, head bowed and hands in his lap, tears burning his hazel eyes. The skin around his fingernails is wet with dark crimson blood, from where he has nervously picked and chewed at.

Chris is alone.

His face now drowned in messy tears.

His hands soaked in his own warm blood.

His  body shakes with sobs. Sobs of fear. Of sadness. Of anger. Of pain.

The phone on the desk illuminates the room suddenly with light, buzzing around playing a happy tune that Chris does not want to hear. He scrambles for the machine and presses it to his ear, his breathing is shaky and harsh but other than that he is silent.

The fan still hums. The tap still drips. There's a rumble of thunder in the distance.

"Chris? Is everything okay, buddy?" the boy on the other end of the call says softly into Chris's ear. Chris sighs then in a forced bubbly voice replies; "Yeah! I just made the mistake of watching Marley and Me! I can't stop crying!" he fakes a laugh perfectly. It's scary how well he can pretend to be happy now.

There is a silence in the call for a second. "Yeah, it's a pretty sad film! Anyway, I wondered where you've got to. You said you were coming over to revise today. And I don't mind if you don't come along but Dodie's here and so's Emma and Evan." PJ says cheerfully down the phone and Chris hums in response.  "Be with you in ten!" Chris chirps before ending the call and letting the phone slip out his blooded hand.

The clear water dances over his flesh, dripping off with tints of red. Once he's scrubbed it all off, the chipped yellow sink has a strange red tinge around the plug. Chris wipes his hands. Wipes his face.

Chris leaves his house.

The heavens open and rain begins to pour. His hair sticks to his forehead, and droplets of water drip off the end of his nose. But he's okay. He's okay. He's okay?

PJ opens the door a split second after he knocks on the red painted wooden with his scabbed knuckles. The bright, curly-haired boy smiles at his dripping wet friend, "Someone got caught in the rain!" He laughs as he closes the door behind Chris, who peels his soaked hoodie off his body. The boy drops the Tesco bag he was holding to the floor and kicks it slightly with his boot. PJ's green eyes flicker over him as Chris pulls off his boots and picks the plastic bag back up. The harsh hazel eyes meet the soft green pair.

"The others are in here." PJ whispers with a soft side smile.

Chris gives him one in return.

"FOR FUCK SAKE!" The voice echoes through the house as the books and papers are pelted at the white wash wall. Dodie jumps and grips her purple pencil tighter in her hand, staring up wide eyed. Emma barely flinches but mutters a quiet "fuck" when she looks up. Evan just watches with a raised brow, unsure whether he should say anything. He decides maybe it's best not to. PJ stands up and looks across at Chris as he begins to stamp on the work which now resided on the ground.

"Chris."

He freezes at PJ's soft voice. But his hands remain clenched at his side and tears still fog over his eyesight.

"If you're struggling with part of it you need only tell us. Besides, we are here to help each other anyway." The green-eyed boy says, gently touching Chris' upper arm in comfort. "Now, what part don't you get?" PJ finally pauses and the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing from Chris.
The boy who's face is being stained from tears, who's eyes are bright red and his nails producing red liquid by pressing to harshly into his palms.