Hey Sunshine

Who Cares About the Type?

WYLAN WAS NO STRANGER TO PAIN.

After all - he had been raised by Marya and Jan Van Eck, two human beings that could hardly be considered wildly successful on the parenting scale - and his heart had been ripped apart the day Marya had left them. Wylan had been there when Jan locked him in his own room for a week. Wylan had been there when he learned to throw up silently, terrified Jan was going to catch him and punish him for being so weak - so damn weak he made himself throw up from his own disgust of himself.

Wylan had been there during every goddamn award ceremony and competition that Jan had missed, and Wylan had been there when the seat reserved for his father was left empty. Wylan had been there when Jan yelled at him for being a worthless idiot. Wylan had been there when he ruined his precious paints - scattered into so many gorgeous droplets, bright red and absolutely broken.

"Wylan?" Jesper's voice was faint.

"I'll call you back," Wylan said vaguely as he prepared to cut the call.

"Wylan, listen," Jesper said pleadingly on the other side, "please think about what you're going to do okay? Just come back home. Please sunshine I don't think you're thinking-"

Wylan cut the call and tilted his head backwards, blinking rapidly to dissolve the gathering tears on his eyelids. A strange feeling swirled in his chest, pounding against the inside of it and threatening to let out. Raw wet tears began to pour down his cheeks uselessly, and he made half-hearted attempts to breathe again that were swallowed up by his rapid panting, so fast his breath caught and he desperately clutched at his throat as he began gagging.

The panic attack continued for a while as he lay against the side of Kuweii's bed, hurting his chest so badly it felt like he'd been punched there. Wheezing noises barely made it out of his throat and Wylan clutched his throat as he gagged, bending over as clear liquid hit the clean wooden floor. His eyes caught on the letter again and his chest heaved, sending another wave of bile onto the ground.

Wylan couldn't bring himself to care.

#

It took twenty minutes to collect himself and finally pull himself out of Kuweii's room, mouth bitter and still tasting of his own vomit. Stumbling to a bathroom, he turned the tap on and began gargling the water out as best he could, hands shaking from the energy it took.

He looked up at himself in the mirror and hated.

God, he couldn't stand himself - no wonder his father had ordered Kuweii to send him a death threat. He lacked the basic skills that equipped a first grader and god he was such an idiot. Why the hell had he thought that he could've gotten rid of his father just by changing his last name? Wylan was a goddamn idiot.

Biting his lips, he urged himself not to break down into tears again as he leant down to wash his face. Scrubbing the pale skin there thoroughly, he bit his lips in an effort not to break down sobbing again.

His own father.

Distantly Wylan heard Jesper's ringtone from Kuweii's bedroom and he sighed. He had to go get his phone from that goddamn bedroom - where the letter was. Why would Kuweii betray him like this? Why did his father want him dead?

Stumbling back into Kuweii's room, Wylan flinched as he noted the piles of vomit still arranged around Kuweii's bedroom, as well as the prickly salt-tang of his own tears. The side of Kuweii's bed was wet - with what, he didn't want to know - and Wylan bent over and answered the phone, swallowing hard at the thought of talking again.