Oversight • Hermitcraft/Yhs

Chapter Three: Unwelcome Feelings

". . . what?"

Grian noticed how much he's been asking this as of late. What is going on? What is happening?

He didn't bother to turn on the light as he walked into his old bedroom, the door closing behind him with a click and pressed his back against it, before sliding to the floor in exhaustion. He put his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees which were folded beneath him, trying to wrap his head around everything.

He realised, that his Time Machine had worked, but not in the way it should've. It brought him back in time, but he went too far back. Was it a mistake on his part? Possibly. Maybe a malfunction? Again, that could've been the case.

But was it truly either of those things?

As he sorted his thoughts, he eventually latched onto the fact that he couldn't hear the mixed voices. They were gone. There was silence! No more jumbled voices, whispers that never let up, hell-bent on getting him to go back to them.

He smiled, although it didn't last long.

He could hear Taurtis and Sam bickering over something, dramatic music playing from the game they were playing in the background.

A groan escaped his throat, being in the same house as someone who he knows isn't completely sane? He won't be able to sleep peacefully for a while, he thought, glancing around the barely moon-lit room.

•/\•/\•

"Grian, did you not sleep?"

". . . no, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Make sure to actually sleep tonight. That's what my wife would've told me before she left. . ."

The bell rung as they went off to the gym, much to everyone's disappointment as they groaned. The usual complaints of it being too early to exercise, especially with Rowan as the teacher, didn't even have to be said at this point to be agreed with.

The class all went straight to their respective change rooms, chattering, wondering what torture the ex-military soldier would put them through.

As they changed, in the boy's locker room, there was a certain topic of conversation. And as much as Grian hated it, it was about him.

"So, Grian, why didn't you sleep last night?"

"Now that you mention it. . ."

"You do look a little puffy-eyed, Grian."

The dirty-blonde haired 'teen' laughed awkwardly, pulling on his top before slowly walking in the direction of the door, "well, ya'know, woke up and couldn't get back to sleep, ahaha. . ."

Dom looked at him disbelievingly, "right. . ."

That's when he pretty much bolted, much to their confusion.

•/\•/\•

Instead of the voices came paranoia,
non-existent eyes acting like lasers on his form.

And what about the suspicions?

The tips of his fingers tingling as the magic yearned to escape,
but it certainly wasn't supposed to be that way,
for what was the point if he still had the very thing he wanted to leave behind?