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"yeah i know, it was craaaaazy dude!"

they laugh and crack joke after joke, but to nick it all sounds like pointless buzzing. he walks with his head down, eyes glued to the floor. it feels like everyone and no one is staring at him. like he's the center of attention and gone from existence at the same time.

he clutches onto his textbook, unsure of where to go. they've been roaming the hallways for what feels like hours, and he still has no idea of what class he's got next. not that it matters anyway. he'd rather hide in his secret little bunker at the back of the school than sit on his ass and listen to some incomprehensible bullshit for a whole period.

his bunker. but what if someone else is there too? someone he doesn't want to see ever again.

friday's events taunt him. he can't stop thinking about them, getting hung up on the same shit over and over. he tells his brain to stop stop stop but it doesn't listen. his brain can't stop itself. it's the same visions all the time, and he just wants it to stop.

"luke? oh shit, yeah!"

"you heard about that too?"

nick is flung back to reality upon hearing the blond's name.

"what?" he wonders.

"people were saying they saw them messing around at the party," harvey explains, only confusing him more.

"wait, what are we talking about again?"

he gets a few questioning glances from the boys, as if his inattentiveness caught them by surprise.

"luke," sam says, "he got a new girlfriend."

he feels his blood run cold. everything around him seems to slow for a second.

"haven't you heard?"

"i don't-" he stutters, "keep up with dumb gossip."

harvey raises an eyebrow, and it looks like he's about to drop a snarky comment, but then he stays silent instead. clay just watches him with a foreign expression on his face.

"anyway, it's that girl with the pink eyeshadow, what's her name again? i think she's in my civics class."

"lucy," harvey reminds him.

"oh yeah, lucy.." sam hums, "lucy and luke, that's interesting."

"their ship name is literally lucky!"

nick flinches away from their comments. his eyes screw shut and he wishes he could screw his ears shut too. their voices echo inside his mind, getting louder and louder by the second, until it becomes too much.

it's too much.

his chest feels tight. he clenches his fists, fighting the urge to scream at them to shut up. can they just shut up already?

they reach the end of the hallway, and that's when nick sees his chance. he takes a deep breath and makes a run for the exit, completely ignoring the others' worried call-outs. he needs to get away. far, far away.

outside birds are singing, leaves rustling. sounds of traffic and wind prevent the world from falling silent. but he hears none of it. only his heart beating in his throat, the soles of his shoes hitting the ground over and over.

he dashes around the side of the building, not looking back even once before the abandoned bathroom is in sight. it reaches out its welcoming hand for him to take.

he crawls through the opening in the barbwire fence like always, not caring if he's being loud or if anyone sees him. the illusion of the place has already been ruined, and it's not his fault. who cares if other people find it now? not him at least.

the smell of old, broken drywall fills his nose, but this time it isn't comforting. instead it stings, makes him feel ill. the door to the bathroom is standing ajar as usual, indicating that no one's been inside since he left last week.

the first thing he sees when he enters is his own ugly work of art; the words that he scribbled so hastily on the ceiling months ago. they have a whole different meaning now, and it feels like they're mocking him, pointing and laughing because he doesn't deserve more respect than that.

he isn't that idolized form of himself that he wants to be. he's nowhere near it. he's pathetic. if he can't even be real with himself, then who's he going to fool?

the tears come spilling down his cheeks before he's even made it to the windowsill. his heart is filled with shame, with disappointment, with self-hatred. it physically hurts inside his chest.

he climbs up to the spot where he was always sitting. he rests his back against the wall, turns his head to look out the window like he always used to do. and then the floodgates open.

he cries like never before. it's loud, it's ugly, and it's heart wrenching. because the one thing in life that kept him on his toes, that made him excited, nervous, giddy, confused - that had him yearning for more - is gone. slipped between his fingers like the finest sand.

he misses shitty insults, strong hands that humiliated him more than anything else. he misses those beautiful eyes too, the ones he could get lost in for hours. he misses it all, as much as he hates to admit it.

maybe those moments of breathlessness meant something more. maybe those butterflies in his stomach - the ones he tried so hard to suppress - meant something more.

his tears come with self-reflection. it's almost like he's finally realized what was going on. that their secret little relationship wasn't just a fight for dominance, or a show of skill. it was completely different.

did he want luke, for real? he probably did. but now it's too late. and he will never forgive himself.

he was so convinced that he was ideal, that everything he did was ideal. he was supposed to be the perfect person, with a large group of friends and a pretty girlfriend and nice clothes and more attention than anyone else in this shit school. but in the process he totally lost himself.

he looks up at the graffiti again. it's blurry now, cause he can barely see. yet he remembers that night so clearly. how he brought a ladder with him, just so he could write those specific words on the ceiling. once again he was pushing a false narrative on himself, pretending to be someone he's not.

because he's no trash star. and maybe he never was. but the trash world is consuming him nonetheless.

°. •. 。

trash star - punznapWhere stories live. Discover now