Supernovas & Escapism

Chapter Twenty

      It hits me almost like a train wreck, how things can go back to the way they were before. In three days, I'd done more contemplating and soul-searching than I had ever done through the rest of my eighteen years. Honestly, it felt like things might have been different. Even though our moments were silent and away from the rest of the world, they had filled me so contently. Something should have been different.

     And yet, things were still the same; same shitty home life; same shitty school life; same shitty love life; same yearning for escape that occupied my soul.

     I'd bailed out of the window before anyone had a chance to wake up this morning, mostly because I hadn't gotten much sleep and I didn't want to go through the morning routine. It usually went like this; My father would pretend that everything was fine and that we were a functional family unit, my mom would just tread the edges of the room, trying to occupy as little space as she could, and I would be in the middle of it all, wondering whether the mood of the moment would change drastically. It was always hard to tell with my father. One minute he's laughing it up with that guttural laugh that mom fell in love with, and the next he's throwing his weight about because something isn't too his liking.

     And it's during that shift that I can see it. There's the man my father wants to be, and then there's the man that he is. For just a moment, you can catch a trace of sadness as his face turns stormy and sullen.

     My aunt had referred to it a few times before; how there was more to him than most people believed, but that did not make him a good man. But she rarely talked about their childhood, and talking to him was the opposite of what I wanted to do. The little things I knew from my father's past were told in hushed whispers, and gossiped rumors. It didn't matter what had happened to him along the way, because what I knew was that he was the greatest asshat to have ever have been conceived.

     Feet pounding the pavement, I tried not to think of him too much. My eyes had been draped with enough eye-product to bring the hate. Black lines accentuated every part of me that I wanted people to see. I wanted people to look me in the eyes and tell me that this was okay, that being this downtrodden was normal.

     I knew it wasn't, but sometimes lies are more comforting than the truth

     The Soundgarden band tee that clung to my chest was far too large for me, but that was fine. A large flannel shirt covered up every inch of skin left bare. The more cover the better. If people seen you were smaller than they were, then they tended to leave you alone. The problems usually came when you tried to make yourself bigger than you were. It was what had led to Friday's debacle. In all honesty, I knew better, but I just couldn't help it.

     Arriving at school, I did the usual tango. Sidestep those who would see me as an excuse to be an asshole. Shimmy away from anyone who would ask questions. Sashay in the opposite direction of those who tried their best to get close enough.

     Thankfully the halls were littered with enough people that it made it exponentially easier to not be seen in the crowd. Despite the stand-out eyes, standing out was the last thing I wanted to do. Keeping in time with the rest of the crowd, my eyes remained tracked on the floor, never lifting. People stopped, or slowed, at which point, I brushed past them as hurriedly as I could, not wishing my presence on anyone for more than a few seconds at a time.

     All I needed to do was take it one day at a time. Survive each day as it came. It was hard, but at least now I had someone on my side.

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     By the time lunch had rolled around, I could sense that the weekend's events had worn on me. I felt physically exhausted and emotionally drained. Part of me was pretty sure that I fell asleep in Mr. Aldan's math class for the briefest moment.

     But I was determined to stay awake. I needed to be alive right now, even if that meant pushing past the wall I'd placed in front of myself.

     Walking into the cafeteria, it was more of the same old story. People divided themselves into their own little groups. People who wandered between groups floated around the edges, never staying long. Their attitudes reflected what society wanted them to be. The cheerleaders and the jocks were prim and proper, if not boisterous all the while. A couple of goth kids sat in a corner, their own air stale and almost silent. Groups of girls sat amongst themselves, looking all around, talking fast before laughing amongst themselves. It took everything in me to not roll my eyes at the cliché of it all.

     Sitting at the far end of the room, ontop of a table, with his legs propped up on a seat was Xavier. Other kids had swarmed him quickly, a group of three looking like they belonged next to him. But most noticeably was the girl, almost attached to his front, shooting him some doe-eyed grin.

     Joining the lunch queue, I didn't dare peel my eyes away. I wanted to see this. I wanted to torture myself and know where this went.

     He looked up at her, a great big smile planting itself on his face. The years and years I'd seen on his face less than 24 hours ago were now gone. Instead, he seemed reinvigorated, and somewhat happy. Something was said, and then the girl, I'm assuming his girlfriend, bounced on her heels and grinned even more, the delight on her face being a strange kind of humility for myself.

     There was a laugh that came from him as he snapped his head towards the crowd. Eventually, his eyes had found mines and his laughter halted almost instantly. His face grew more jaded and harsh in one moment, before returning to it's jovial grin. It was a mask, a mask that he was willing to wear to the world. He didn't want people to notice him, to notice that there might have been more underneath the surface. He hid it so well, that even I started to wonder if this weekend had really happened at all.

     But I knew the moment I met his eyes again. It was an almost telepathic glance.

     'Things can never change here for me Garth.'

     As I said, I was an idiot to think that things wouldn't just go back to the way they were.

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a/n: yeah, so what happened here is i sort of hit a wall during my excessive writing streak and it hit me like, well a brick wall. haven't wrote much since but i feel like i owe you guys some more of this and this was something i wanted to write anyways. it's by no means as polished as i'd like it to be, but it's something.

QOTD: I will answer any and all headcanon questions down below. (Garth is a crappy dancer, Xavier likes to put the milk in first etc. fluffy questions like that)