Desolation of Golden Eyes

Soulmates are Pre-made

Have you ever thought about all the stories you pass everyday, the fact hundreds of people pass you everyday most without a second glance. Our souls are full of stories, whether they be tragic or romantic, lustful or boring; they're still stories. These stories don't form alone, there is usually someone along with this, I believe this is your soulmate. We're all just characters pre-written into our story, but the boundaries are vague. No one knows how far one can push another until they're pushed out of character and they become lost. When you become lost, you become free. Soulmates may be pre-written but love is self-made. People go out on a search for their soulmate, following their path and never really live. Not to say you have to suffer to live, you just need to try. When you're a teenager your told to live (along the boundaries of your parents), make memories that'll impact the world someday. But that's just not the truth, not all of us are going impact the world, not all of us are going to live a fairy-tale life. We live. We die. We rot. Morbid? kinda, truth? completely. You don't believe it unless you're also in that position, unless you're put in a place where you want that to be your end. Don't worry, it is. Even though we all have an uneventful finish to life, we should still try to make the best of it. I try to do that, just to make my finish mean a little more. No where am I saying I lead a good life, I'm bullied, I self-harm, I've tried to kill myself, I have a shitty home life, oh, and I'm gay, but the point I like to make along with all that, is that I'm free, so far from my pre-written story no one even tries to acknowledge it. But back to the point of living, that's what I try to do most of the time. That's why when I saw the most gorgeous kid walk into my class one day, I made it my job to talk to him. I may miss a lot of stories throughout my life, but I know I don't want to miss this one. This kid, oh my god, he has these pretty hazel-gold eyes rimmed with black eyeliner smudged all around his eye, long-ish black hair with teal roots, and a fucking beautiful smile. Unfortunately he only made it ten minutes without someone verbally abusing him, which honestly is the longest someone who looks like that has gone in this school.
"Okay class, this is Gerard, you can sit where ever there is an empty seat"
Fuck, his name is even beautiful. I want to say it foreve- wow he's even prettier up close, I only know this because he chose the seat right next to me. This is when I notice something crucial, even though his eye color is very bright, his eyes aren't. It appears to be like all the spark in them is gone. That's dangerous, I would know, mine have gone out long ago. People with no spark have nothing to lose, nothing to gain either, it's them against themselves.
"sorry, but, uh...do you have a pencil I can borrow?"
I nod quickly and hand them my pencil not liking the sound of my own voice.
"thanks"
I nod again and tune back into my thoughts. I spend a lot of time clouded in my own existential pessimistic thoughts. It's not like I'm mute, I can talk, I just don't like to. My voice has never done me any good, it's caused pain and hurt and I can't do that again.
"So, what's your name?"
"frank."
"oh, okay...cool"
I nod suddenly feeling very anxious around this pretty boy. He's special, I know it. I can tell he's lost his spark but he is still trying. He's got hope, doing better than me. I don't have hope, I have life...which admittedly isn't close or anywhere near as good as hope. I live my life, in no good way, drugs, blades, wasted blackouts, that's my life. Gerard here, he's going to be okay, from the look of his rolled up jacket sleeves he doesn't self harm, or at least in obvious places like me. I can't help it, the wrist is just more satisfying, more blood, a different sting, more scars. His eyes are bright, dull yet bright, exquisite. He's got shit going on now but he's going to make it.
"so what class are you?"
"junior, you?"
"senior"
"cool"
These small, awkward conversations are confusing me in the best way possible.
"sorry if i'm annoying you, i'm just nervous"
Okay Frank, don't be an asshole.
"no it's fine, i'm just not used to talking is all"
"oh...we could pass notes? sorry, you just interest me"
"it's fine that sounds good"
He nods and then turns around grabbing a sheet of paper and begins to write. I interest him, he's like the forbidden fruit and I'm eve in my eyes. I want to touch him, not in a sexual way but in a metaphorical way. He looks up and hands me the paper
(so, you know my name is gerard, i'm a senior, i'm 18, and you're cute)
Shit, he can't call me cute, one because, I'm not, two because, that means he'll want in eventually and he'll drown and I'd rather drown myself literally, then put this strange boy through that.
(haha, yeah, i'm frank, junior, 17... and thanks, you're pretty)
I hand the paper back to him. Idiot, why'd you go and say that, you sound like a middle schooler. He might get attached and I might let him and he'll start tearing down my walls and then the floodgates will open and all my secrets would flow out in a torrential downpour and he'll get sucked in and he will dig deeper and he won't like what he finds and he'll try to get away but he'll come back and I'll watch him destroy himself bit by bit over me and I'll be stuck behind glass unable to stop the damage I'm causing, it hurts but I can't turn away it's like my punishment, my eternal hell for the sins I've done. I get so wrapped up in my downhill slope of my thoughts I didn't notice the paper being slipped back onto my desk. I come back to reality trying to slow down my quiet breaths to see Gerard giving me a worried glance, I send him a reassuring smile which seems to work for the most part, I redirect my glance to the paper.
(i know this is weird, but i want to get to know you, want to go for a walk after school?)
(yeah sure, where should i meet you?)
(front gates?)
(sure)
As I hand the paper back the bell rings causing a uproar of the sound of shuffling bodies, crumpling papers, and sliding chairs. I get up and see Gerard is already walking out the door, I'm petrified of what I just signed up for.