*** Wednesday | Bedroom
By the time I woke up I was already running late. Mom and Dad had already been at work which I assumed they had to go in early again. Couldn't blame them for not waking me up in time. Mom did tell me I'd have to take the bus today— oh shit! the bus!
I quickly grabbed my phone from off the bedside table and checked the time. 7:47. I was supposed to be awake forty seven minutes ago. I only had thirteen minutes until the bus arrived. I jolted up, walking over to my closet to pick out a forest green sweater that had looked like it had seen a few too many washes in the washer. It had small tears in the sleeves and the hemming on the bottom of the sweater was unraveling itself slightly. I then picked a pair of light blue jeans which had holes on both knees, along with the same scuffed converse I always wore. Surprised they've lasted me this long.
After I had gotten dressed, I went towards the bathroom, brushing my teeth and fixing my hair so it was a little less messy than normal. I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time. 7:53. I slung my bag over my shoulder, grabbing my guitar case. Good thing the bus stop isn't too far from my house. I didn't have time to eat breakfast— or much of anything obviously— so I headed straight out the door, locking the door behind me.
***
Man they don't ever tell you how hard it is to run with an instrument do they? Although, that's probably something you shouldn't do, but it was the only option right now. When I finally got to the bus stop, the bus was just now arriving, which didn't give me much time to catch my breath.
The bus stopped with the sound of its squeaking brakes following behind it; the door opening a few seconds after.
"Rough start, kid?" The bus driver, Mr. Bullock asked in his usual thick southern accent. He was a nice guy, been my bus driver since freshman year and always had the same caring and charismatic charm. It's surprising how nice he still is— considering how rude some people are sometimes.
I let out a slight chuckle, but I was internally dying inside. I'd barely caught my breath again as I stepped inside the bus, the sound of other students could be heard chattering from in their seats.
"Yeah, seems like it." I simply say with an awkward grin before I take the spot behind the driver's chair, putting my guitar next to me; plugging my headphones into my phone and then placing them into my ears.
Time to drown out the noise.
I looked out the window as I let my music play on a shuffled playlist. The drive to the school wasn't too far, but there was still a few more stops the bus driver had to take before heading towards the school. It was probably about a ten to fifteen minute drive. I decided to try and write something to pass the time so I shuffled around in my bag and pulled out my journal and pen. I did always enjoy a good poem— and it was a way to ease my mind— to some extent anyway.
My hand moved across the page swiftly as I started to write— like I already knew what I wanted to say.
The way that you look at me
Makes me wonder what you see
I don't really know just how to think
When you made me fall in just a blink
And now I keep my lips sealed
Or everything will all be revealed
I tapped the pen on the page, staring at the words for a long while. Suddenly I see from my peripheral— everyone moving and shoving to get out. I put my journal and pen back into my bag before standing up partially, one leg resting on the seat with the other planted on the floor of the bus. I held my guitar closer and managed to squeeze in once a random girl let me in front of her. I gave her a smile which was clearly an acceptable response as she nodded and smiled back.
*** School
Once I stepped out, I started to walk towards the entrance of the school as I checked the time again. 8:15. My first period started in fifteen minutes. I let out a relieved sigh. At least I wasn't late. I couldn't bare even the thought of walking in late— embarrassing. I hated eyes on me. I always did. Well... I guess until Ayden came along. He's the only one I'd want to stare at me, especially like that. Like he loves me, cares about me...
I shook my head trying not to think about it. I wiped my nose with the sleeve of my sweater. It was a bit chilly outside, and since class hadn't started yet I didn't really want to go inside. I just wished Ayden or someone was here to talk to. I scrolled through my phone for a few minutes— but it felt like forever— before I heard Ayden's voice from in front of me, slightly deeper and raspier, as it usually was in the early mornings which I loved, but could never admit. My face turned pink slightly as I felt my heart stutter.
"I might as well should start calling you sweaters, huh?" He teased, chuckling softly before taking a seat next to me, leaning his back up against the brick wall.
"H-huh?" I stutter out, covering my face a little with my sleeve to cover up the rising blush in my cheeks. At this point I'm just going to blame the cold if he asks.
Ayden fiddles with a pin that's stuck on his bag— one with an anarchy symbol. "Well.... it's just that you wear one like everyday." He turns his head to look at me and smirks a little when he sees me, then lets out a small laugh. "No wonder you're cold, you have holes all in your sweater." He says pointing to my sleeves.
I can't help but let out a laugh, rolling my eyes a little. "Hey! It's a fashion statement! ....and I've had this for years, it's one of my favorites." I mumble a little at the last part giving him a playful glare.
Ayden chuckles. "It definitely fits you, it's cool that you have a brand."
I blush a little at his compliment looking away, but before I get the chance to say anything the bell rings for first period to start.
"See you in second period... sweaters." He gives me a playful wink with two finger guns as he jogs off. I watch him— flustered, face red and hot.
*** English
It was especially difficult to focus on class, especially after that— he was just being goofy, it didn't mean anything. He's always making jokes, no need to overthink it.... but I can't stop myself from doing that anyway. I faintly hear the teachers lesson coming in front of the classroom, but I'm mostly in a daze, zoned out staring at nothing.
Dakota nudges my leg with her foot to get my attention, which causes me to jolt slightly in my seat, as I turned my head to look at her.
"You okay?" She whispers to me quietly, still typing on her computer before looking up to glance at me.
I look down at my own laptop, seeing the screen had already gone black from inactivity. I quickly logged back in, my mind being refreshed on what I had been working on— the essay. I only had written about 2 paragraphs, and had barely started working on my third one. I still had two more days so, still plenty of time, but 'better to get it done sooner than later,' as my mom always says.
"Ah... yeah I'm fine, just thinking." I replied back in a whisper, slightly dismissive but not necessarily dishonest.
She gave me a slightly concerned look before nodding, and I could tell she wanted to say something, but decided not to push it. "Okay, but if you need anything let me know." She gave me a smile before going back to work on her essay.
I felt bad keeping things from her, I mean, she's been my best friend, way before any of these other new people joined and started hanging with us. She always been there. It's not that I'm going to keep this from her forever... just I wasn't sure how or when I should even do it.
Like how was I supposed to tell anyone that Phoenix— my bully for the last 2 years— and I have been doing.... questionable and risky things together? Not only that but Phoenix would kill me if he knew I told somebody else about that.
I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind long enough for me to try and finish this paragraph. When class ended I started heading towards my next period, Ayden already standing outside the door waiting for me.
"Ready for this presentation, Ez?" Ayden asked as we walked in together, our arms brushing against each other slightly.
I froze a little, a lump forming in my throat. I was never one for public speeches or presentations— or staring. The anxiety of it had just started to seep in. Today was so chaotic he had completely forgotten.
"U-um y-yeah ha-haha." My words come out in a stutter, clearly on edge now. I didn't want to seem like a wimp or something in front of him, but it was hard not to be anxious. I balled the excess fabric from my sleeves into my sweaty palms as I looked down at my scribbled on desk.
Ayden must've picked up on the sudden change of atmosphere because he moved to scoot his desk a bit closer. "Hey, it's okay. If it helps, don't focus on them, focus on me." His voice was gentle, more gentle than I've ever heard it before. It had a slight raspiness to it as he whispered to me.
I couldn't tell if he was just being nice again or if this is just how he is with everyone, but it still made me feel better. His words made me blush as I repeated them over and over in my head. 'Focus on me.' I already do, everyday.
When the presentations had started I held my breath for when the time would come to be our turn. A few pairs went before us before our names were called. I took my laptop up with us as we walked down the aisle to the front of the classroom. I felt my breath hitch slightly before connecting my computer up to the projector so everyone could see the slideshow. Once connected our presentation began.
Ayden started the slideshow off with his slides, taking the lead which made me feel a bit at ease. I tried not to focus too much on the students, rather just focusing on Ayden's voice. I waited for my turn to speak, and when it was I felt my palms get drenched in sweat again. Ayden was always good at hiding his emotions, which I often envied. Not to say that hiding your emotions is a good thing just— wish that I was able to do the same sometimes.
I took a deep breath, clearing my throat before starting my slides. I tried to think about what Ayden said, to not focus on them, but to focus on him, so I did. I would glance up at him every now and then and then back at the screen. Having him as emotional support definitely helped keep me distracted. On the final slide, a wave of relief washed over me, knowing that it was finally over. The class clapped, along with the teacher who called up the next pair to go.
"See, you did great." Ayden says as he sits back down at his seat, turning to face me.
I let out a quiet breathy laugh, sitting down at my own spot, putting my laptop back on top of my desk. "Psh, if you say so." I replied back jokingly.
The corners of Ayden's lips curled into a small smile as he pulled out a well-used sketch book from his tattered bag which looked like it had been through hell and back. The straps were being held up just by a few safety pins. Patches and other random pins were scattered all across his bag. His sketchbook had random sketches drawn all over the cover of it. I'd never actually seen his sketchbook, let alone ever watched him draw.
My eyes drift over to what he's drawing— but it can't seem to make out much of it from this angle. Finally, I find the courage to ask him, "You draw?"
He shifted slightly, instinctively covering the page but then handed the book to Eziekiel, showing the page he was working on. "I.... don't usually let people see." He trails off a little. "....but I trust you."
I grabbed the book carefully, like I was holding something sacred— which probably was to Ayden. Staring at the page I see a half sketched drawing of a woods scenery, trees stretching on and on like there's no end. A person stands in front of the tree line, staring into the endless unknown. At the bottom of the page in Ayden's handwriting reads: 'Escape.'
"This is beautiful...." I say in awe, admiring at how talented he was. I blushed slightly realizing how much Ayden must trust me in order for him to show this to me. "Thank you, for trusting me. You're so... talented." I hand his sketchbook back, our fingers brushing against each other softly as he gently takes it back.
"Heh, if you think so it must be true." He jokes, but then adds, "Thanks though, means a lot. It's.... one of my only escapes."
I nod understandingly. "I get that. That's how writing is for me." I pulled my journal out from my bag, flipping to a page that I didn't mind sharing. "Here.... since you showed me something too." I hand my journal to him. I never usually showed anyone my creations either, not unless I really trusted them. I also figured of all people, Ayden wouldn't judge me.
After a few minutes Ayden lifted his head. "Damn, this hits a little too close for comfort." He scratches the back of his head, letting out a slightly forced chuckle. "You're really good though. You really know how to capture pure, raw emotion just by reading it." He hands back my journal carefully.
I feel the heat rushing to my face again as I put my journal back into my bag. "Th-Thanks, I try my best."
The bell rung for third period to start, students standing to rush out of the door as their chairs squeaked across the floor. Both Ayden and I stand up, swinging our bags over our shoulders.
"Want me to walk you to your next class?" Ayden asks as he walks beside me, already following me there.
"By all means, emo boy." I teased, like he didn't already know my answer.
*** Social Studies
Once we arrived at my class, Ayden waved as he started down the hall to his next period. The bell had just rung, which would of course make him late, but he didn't seem concerned. I mean, considering the amount of times he'd already ditched in the first two weeks of school it was pretty obvious.
I made my way to my desk, sitting down as I plopped my bag onto the floor next to me. I knew this class would drag on especially since there was nobody I really knew or talked to during this period. It did however give me time to think, which could be either good or bad, depending on the situation.
Over the last two weeks Ayden had become part of my daily life, way more than I ever imagined or thought he'd be. He would wait by the door for me, walk me to class, joke with me, tease me, and now already calling each other nicknames. Not that I minded of course, it was just a feeling I wasn't used to. Especially when every compliment hit harder than it probably should. I keep telling myself he's straight over and over. He's just a nice guy, he's like this with all his friends I'm sure, but I can't stop my heart from stuttering everytime his fingers brush against mine, or the way he ruffles my hair, or how I could listen to him ramble on and on about anything, even something small like 'man all these assignments are ass.' I know I can't control how I feel around him, but I can't help but feel guilty.
I just wish I could switch my emotions off.