Hey, Mister In Denial (BxB)

Chapter 17: Battlefield

Chapter 17
Battlefield

When I wake up, as my eyes flutter open, I immediately feel the burden inside my chest. It is as if there's something heavy placed on my chest, and tears prickle my eyes. The rejection, the pain, it's still there. I just woke up and I should not cry. I know I should not cry as he doesn't deserve the tears; he's not worth it. But I can't help it. As my mind flashes the face he put on while he basically crushed my heart in his hands, the pain in my chest intensifies. This is something that I should not be remembering. This is something that should be forgotten.

"Morning gloominess," I mutter to myself, sighing as I hoist myself off from the bed, swinging my feet to the ground and I shudder, teeth chattering as I stand up and run at the bathroom to do my morning routine. The clock says 6:56 in the morning. I oh so badly want to skip the school, because I know that I'll meet him there. Garden of Luck is not really lucky at all, I think. In fact, I think I should curse that place. I think I need to suggest to Noah that that garden should be destroyed. "Crazy thought."

I strip the clothes off of me, stepping into the shower. The pain is there to awaken me up more, and it intensifies as my head keeps replaying the words of Dale. I don't deserve him, and he doesn't deserve me. Someone out there is waiting for me unknowingly, and we'll meet soon. I guess. I guess all I can do right now is wait, or I can use Tinder, Grindr, GUY, PlanetRomeo, or Jack'd just to find myself a date. I'm not really interested in sex or whatsoever; I want love. Not the love that our parents are giving, but the love of someone who is not related to you but despite that, he's showering you a lot of love. That would be perfect. That would be better for me. I deserve that. Once done showering, I dry myself off, wear my uniform, brush my hair, and make sure that I look good. There are shadows under my eyes due to the lack of sleep. Last night I have been tossing around the bed, and I knew that based from the sheets that kept getting tangled. I woke up in the middle of the night, and tried to sleep, and waited another forty minutes before I could sleep again. I head downstairs, finding my mother and father in the kitchen doing their usual thing in the morning; father reading a newspaper while my mother cooks for us. I slip myself into the stool and tap my fingers across the table, lightly tapping the wood and my father moves his newspaper a bit so he can take a look at me.

"You look like a truck has run over you," my father announces, taking a sip of his hot chocolate but his eyes never leave me. If I ever such move my eyes away from his, he would know that there's something wrong. He would interrogate me, and you really don't want to know how he interrogates.

Despite how awful I look, I give my father a huge smile, so huge that it hurts my lips. "I'm fine. I didn't sleep really well last night. Must have consumed a lot of coffee." I lie. My mother whips her head to look at me. Everyone knows that I don't really drink coffee. "I tried. Coffee, I mean." I hastily add upon seeing my father's expression.

"Hmm," my father hums and goes back to reading his newspaper, nodding his head as he murmurs out loud the headline of the news. "One dead, three injured. Robbery. These people..."

My mother has laid out scrambled eggs, fried rice, hotdogs, and corns that are fried in butter. I suddenly remember the toasted bread Dustin and I have consumed yesterday morning. I didn't expect it to be quite good, and I'm craving for it right now. I pull out my cellphone in my pocket and immediately pull out Dustin's contact and text him: Please bring me buttered toasted bread. Craving. Tasted delicious by the way.

He responds after a few seconds: Okay. We need to talk.

My lips turn from a thin line to upside down, frowning at the message I've received from him. Shrugging, I put the phone back in my pocket and decide to meet him up later. There's a car honking outside, though I haven't really eaten much, I push the plate back and kiss my mother on my cheek and bid my father good-bye as I run outside, grabbing my backpack that is sitting on the couch. As usual, my Russian best friend shouts his good morning in French to my parents: Bonjour. Bonne journee. My mother smiles at that as my father gives my best friend a nod.