Aeipathy ↠ Peter Parker [1]

1 》mágoa (n.)

Monday | September 18th 2017 | 12:37 pm

Her eyes are bloodshot; dark purple circles sit underneath her hazel orbs. Strands of chocolate hair fall into her face as her hair sits messily under her hoodie. She can feel eyes on her but ignores it nonetheless.

She can't focus, and yet, she doesn't want to. The world around her is exploding with chattering and laughing teenagers but she can't hear any of it. Every thought she can comprehend is screaming at her. She passes tables, not looking up from the tray in front of her. She silently wills herself to be invisible, for everyone to ignore her like before any of this torture. She doesn't know how much longer she can bare this. She just wants to lie in bed and cry herself to sleep.

Her lips slightly ajar, she takes in a shaky breath before beelining to the empty table in the corner of the cafeteria. As she takes a right turn, her head lifts. She makes eye contact with a boy. Her tired eyes slowly flutter shut as she regrets looking anywhere but at the moderately appealing food on the tray in front of her. She sits down and a breath she didn't know she was holding is released. The last thing she wanted was attention in any way, shape or form. The boy looked generally concerned but his face was already slipping from her memory. She puts in her earphones in and zones out from her harsh reality.

"What's wrong with her?" The boy asks once she disappears from his vision.

"Haven't you heard? Rumours going around that her mother died over the vacation." Another boy sitting next to him replies with sympathy in his throat.

"Seriously?" The boy turns to look at his friend with wide eyes.

"Yeah. Cancer apparently got the best of her. Poor girl." He shakes his head before taking a sip of his flavoured milk.

This boy knows that this girl's problems is none of his business but he can't help but feel like he has to have some sort of responsibility over it. It reminds him of his uncle, his parents. All the loss he's endured, all the pain and suffering he's had to deal with; it makes him feel how miserable it made him. He had no-one, he knows how hard it was all by himself. The glint in her eyes told him a whole story; it ignited a spark in his soul. It was almost an inclination for him to want to talk to her, make her feel like she wasn't alone. But who was he kidding? He'd never even spoken to the girl before.

His thoughts are interrupted by the slam of a tray in front of him. A familiar face sits in front him with her usual messy hair and passionless expression.

"Hey guys, Mr. Harrington was discussing stuff about the decathlon with me." She stated before taking a gulp of her flavoured milk. "What's got you guys looking so blue?" She asks after realising the dull expressions on the boys in front of her.

"Have you heard about what happened to Bailey Alexander?" The boy's friend asks looking up at the girl's confused expression.

"You mean that girl who's mum died or something?"

"Yeah, well she just walked past us and we kinda just got her major depressed vibes." He said raising his eyebrows between words. An awkward silence washed over the table as everyone stared at their food not knowing what to do or say.

"Peter? You alright there?" She asks once she sees him staring very intently at his mashed potatoes.

"What? Oh, yeah I'm good. Just thinking." He says before tuning back into the world. Something in his gut tells him that he's going to be seeing that girl again. Maybe even talking to her. He want's to help her; something is driving him to do so. She was so raw, so real. He could almost see himself as her, and that really confused him. He didn't understand why he was feeling like this, why his mind and heart urged him to do something. He knew he was going to do something, it was scorching his soul.