𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛 [OLD/ORIGINAL]

Chapter Ten - Short Break

The redhead sat with limp hands on the wooden flats, watching with no reaction to gentle hands that moved in a circle, holding a vanilla roll swathed around their leg. When the tending was finished, the texture concealed the cut, the flesh hanging close together. Jack stood and then sat beside them, scooting away to make room for them. Her hand, that had previously held from the outset of an odd sentimentality, opened and closed to form a gentle fist, moving her fingers to know the air.

"Are you feeling better?" He asked, already taking down her attention. Taffy nodded as she kicked their legs. "Good...t-that's good to hear," Jack smiled and sighed contentedly. The awkwardness slowed them down enough to hear a voice from a man next to them. They are fully engaged in the moment, their hands folded to make a thump. The sense of freedom was enough to make somebody to feel at ease. He was only human. Basically, in their viewpoint.

"Hey... I know you can't...really talk or anything, and I'm not saying that as an insult—b-but...I want to know...what do you see...in me?" he forced to defend, though they don't seem to mind only when he spits it out. Taffy would raise her brow to clarify something in a known universe where they have a face. His voice, while sweet and impotent, made them feel inferior, but they would get something. Crossing their arms now to feel their skin numb from the cold, now supported by red heat. They snatched the paper near them and took a pen from the bag under their ankle, carefree to show it to his face rather than hand it over.

'Are you implying something?'

"The truth is...I don't understand most people," Jack slumped back and pressed his fingers around each other, "they keep telling me how weak I am and...all of those things that brought me down. I know I'm fucking dumb and all, but I don't understand why people are so possessive of me...like, I stumble through my whole life figuring out my whole life," he paused to swallow a lump, "I try my damn hardest to make friends, get high grades, possibly know what I do in the future," Jack looked up at the grey sky, "but...I'm not the perfect boy that my mother hoped for..."

'What was your whole life like other than that?'

"I...I-I try to help others. I had this idea that if I treated everyone nicely, they would return the favor. B-but...can I really expect that all the time? Then it went to hell during school. I couldn't do anything proper throughout high school. Even when I wasn't doing anything, I was picked on during lunch and after school. When the teachers called my mother, she...uh, uh...didn't answer."

Taffy nodded and scrawled the matter.

'What's it like having a family? Is it a good thing to feel?'

Jack's eyes followed up and down, stunned but saddened by the question, "I...I believe that depends on who raises a child. My experience was strange. When I first arrived in the world, I saw my mother. But there was no clue of my father anywhere. I didn't even get to hear his voice, only my mother's smile and assurance that everything was fine. I was a baby, so...I don't know," he continued, rubbing his sleeve, "I never knew what was going on. My mother's face had never looked so frightening to me as I grew older. I can't bring myself to look her in the eyes. I have no idea what I did; she's probably upset with me for something."