The Dreams We'll Never Live

Chapter One

My hand grew sore as I wrote notes, notes about my next story. I always did that, writing anything I could to take my mind off of things. I sat at the desk in my small room, scribbling away at the piece of paper before me. I could hear my brothers downstairs yelling at either each other or the tv. They always did that, and if I ever dared to poke my head downstairs I would be the subject they would yell at. I had been the youngest of my siblings for many years, and that made me a target. Even when our youngest brother Peter was born I was still the target of their abuse. I didn't mind it- in fact, I had grown used to their insults. To them, I was probably still the youngest, seeing as Peter had moved in with a gay couple that we knew. He seemed happy with them, and when I saw him smile with his family, I always wished for what he had; a good family and happiness.

My eyes grew tired as I re-read my work, ripping it apart and throwing it in the trash. I put my face on my desk, tired of the failure that seemed to be my life. I glanced at my clock, I still had time to write some more, but I felt a lack of motivation. I felt my eyes close, I was tired, full of nothing. I could feel the wave of sleep wash over me, but I couldn't sleep, the dread of school could keep me awake for hours. Every thought about school kept me awake, thank god there were only three months left. I couldn't deal with the stress of school, and my brothers didn't make things better. The stress had been eating away at me for a long time, and I felt like I was being pushed to a limit. I found myself calm yet fearful, I had no strength to cry or panic, all I could do was lay there with my head on my desk waiting to fall asleep.

~

I awoke to the sound of my alarm clock going off, the beeping disturbing me from my peaceful slumber. I rubbed my eyes before slamming my hand on my alarm clock, stopping it from making any further noises. I sighed, as I looked at the time, an hour before school started. I changed my clothes and brushed my hair, everything I needed was already in my school bag. I could hear my brother's making noises downstairs; only two of them went to school. Allistor, my eldest brother, had graduated last year, leaving Patrick, Dylan and I all stuck in school. The walk to school wasn't long either, but we never walked together, nor did I talk. I would follow behind them, never engaging in any of their conversations. My eyes were probably clouded with dread that no one would see, I didn't want to go, I didn't want to be a nobody, but I really had no choice. I watched to clock tick as time passed, finally gathering my stuff and walking downstairs. I saw my brothers outside, already walking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Allistor sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette. We made eye contact for a split second. His dull eye's meeting my dread-filed ones. I broke eye contact with him as soon as I made it, walking outside and making my way to school. The chilly air nipped at me, making me stand still for a moment before I proceeded.

The warmth of the school flooded me, and I drowned in the sorrow it brought me. I walked upstairs, throwing my stuff in my locker and walking to class. I was always early, usually the third person in the class, and I always sat close to the back. I pulled out some pieces of paper and began to write a story, letting my mind wander. More students arrived, and that's when I saw a teacher with a boy I had never seen before. They walked into the class together and he said something to the boy that I couldn't hear. He looked about my age, with blond locks that came down to his shoulder. His blue eyes seemed to shine with anticipation and hope, his clothes seemed new and fancy, he was the definition of beauty. He looked towards me, our eye's meeting for a few seconds before I looked down to focus on what I was writing. He wasn't going to pay any attention to me anyway, I was a nobody and he was most definitely going to be popular. The teacher quieted us down and introduced him to all of us; Francis Bonnefoy. I remembered hearing something about a new kid, people said he was wild and cool from what they had heard from the people at his previous school. He seemed calm to me, but everyone was calm at first.

The teacher didn't lecture us, letting us work on what we had to. Francis made his way to me, and past my desk; accidentally knocking my papers on the floor.

"I-I'm sorry!" He said, I noticed that he had an accent, "let me get those..."

"No, wait-" I tried to protest, but he was already picking them up, and my fears came true as he looked at them. It would have been fine if I hadn't written sexual things. He looked at me, I was expecting a disapproving or disgusted look, but he gave me a smirk and put them back on my desk. He walked away and sat a few desks away from me. I stared at my writing for a few moments, processing what just happened. I looked over to see him looking at me, that smirk still plastered on his face. I felt flustered and embarrassed, looking away. I continued writing my sexual story, glancing at him every so often, and every so often we made eye contact. It was one of the most awkward experiences for me.

After class I quickly rushed to my next one, hoping to get out of that situation, but it was just my luck that we had the same class again. The teacher made us take notes, and I tried not to look at him, if I just ignore him he'll go away I thought. When that class ended I rushed out of the room, making my way to what our school called the common room. It was full of round tables and chairs, and I sat at a table in the corner all by myself, I always did. Life in this school was always the same for me, be a nobody who just existed and hope life isn't too hard on me. All I did was continue to write my little story, I was almost done, ready to add some finishing touches when someone sat down at my table. I already knew who it was, I looked up to see none-other than Francis. He smiled at me as he took his seat.

"I see you like to write," he stated, trying to strike a conversation, I noticed that his accent was French.

"Yeah, so what?" I replied, I didn't mean to come off as rude but I probably did. He looked at the pages before me.

"Can I read it?" He asked.

"No," I said as I grabbed the papers, holding them close.

He gave a smirk as he asked his next question.

"Have you ever done what you described in your writing?"

"None of your business!" I retorted. He laughed.

"I feel like we've met in a weird way, maybe we should just introduce ourselves and maybe get to know each other, I'm Francis Bonnefoy," he stuck out his hand for me to shake it. Reluctantly, I took his soft hand and shook it.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland," I spoke quietly as if I didn't want him to know, but he smiled at me.

"That's a nice name, do you live around here?" He asked.

"Yes, I only live about fifteen minutes from the school," I confessed, he nodded.

"I live on the other side, I'm guessing you know where all the rich people live?" I nodded, "that's where I live," he told me.

"So I'm guessing you're the stereotypical snotty rich guy who's going to bully me? Because that's exactly what I need," I said sarcastically, he chucked a bit before responding.

"Non, I would never bully anyone, especially not a handsome man like you," he gave a soft smile. I felt flustered yet again, did he just flirt with me?"

"What are you saying?"

"I just want to get to know you, Arthur Kirkland, maybe we could be friends?"

I stared at him, not knowing what to do. What was a person supposed to say in this situation? I just stared at him, uneasy and hoping he would say something. I guess he noticed my discomfort.

"What? Do you not have any friends?" He laughed until he noticed the change of my expression. I couldn't see my face, but I knew my eyes had grown sorrowful once he said that.

"Oh..." he said blankly before adding, " I'm sorry I didn't know-"

"It's alright," I practically whispered. I gave him a small smile, "I guess I do need a friend..." Francis smiled, his eyes lighting up as I said those words.

"Can I read your stuff now that we're friends?" He asked again.

"It'll take more than that to read it," I replied.

"How about after school you show me around a little? I'm new here after all."

I nodded, "that sounds nice."

I think I finally had a friend.