Psychopath. (bwwm) ✓

5. rumors and arguments

Elliot had baby blue eyes, Oliver had grey-green ones.

They were polor opposites.

Yet they had one thing in common, as I could tell.

Oliver tried too hard to be normal; Elliot tried too hard to stand out and be what society would deem as a rebel.

And as I sat there and twirled my fork in my pasta, I caught myself thinking too much about the Remmers and focused on my meal, the fan being the only noise in the room before my father spoke.

"Tammy, I don't want to have this conversation at the dinner table..." I heard my father complain as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He wasn't in the mood for my mother's constant talk of bills and expenses, especially when they'd argued about it the day before, oblivious to the way I'd sat in the park staring at the Remmer residence and the way Jackson had left as well.

His excuse was he would be going to hang with Gavin, his best friend, but knowing him, he was just out thinking and most likely smoking something he's gotten from his potheads he called friends.

"Rod, you never want to have this conversation!" She yelled, banging her tiny fist on the table as she'd done many times before.

We weren't shocked as Jackson and I just sat there staring at our plates.

My dad laughed sarcastically, "I'm sorry that I don't want to talk about something that makes me unhappy in front of my kids," he apologized mockingly as he rolled his eyes at the way she glared at him.

Jackson reached over and picked up my plate as well as his as he stood, walking to the sink in the attached kitchen and turning on the water.

"They'll figure it out eventually!" She yelled back. My mother was a ticking time bomb, never able to keep her voice down when she felt strongly about something or when she was extremely stressed.

He looked at her disbelievingly, "They'll figure it out?"

My mom nodded, her face a mixture of anger and arrogance, "Yes! They will and-"

"I don't want them figuring it out! I don't want to talk about this in front of them! This isn't a conversation for the goddamn family and then some! This is a financial conversation between me and you-"

She jumped up from her chair, pushing it backwards by the amount of force and anger out in her actions. The chair hit the floor as she leaned over the table and got in his face, shocking me and Jackson as he dropped the plate in the sink out of surprise.

No one even paid mind to the way he clenched his jaw and glared at the sink, turning off the water, and holding onto the sides of the counter before pushing himself off and heading back to the table.

My mother just continued the heated argument as if we weren't even there, "Fine then, let's talk about something else! Where have you been spending all those extra hours at work? I know damn well that you're not working until six in the fucking morning-"

I was pulled of the room as my mother poked my father in the chest and screamed accusations at him, my brother behind me. Jackson cursed quietly, grabbing his keys, pushing me out the front door and slamming it shut.

We stood in silence before he told me to follow him as we both walked down the porch steps, both of us not saying a word.

Eventually we made it to the sidewalk, subconsciously making our way down the same path that we'd always done since we'd moved there.

"Are you okay?" he asked me as we walked aimlessly. I guess the point was for Jackson to cook down since he'd had his fists clenched the entire walk.

Mutely, I nodded.

He stiffly copied my actions.

And I realized then that this was our bonding time.

We bonded over mom and dad's issues, over the times we had to leave the house because of it.

But it had never gotten that bad.

It had never gotten bad enough for them to scream across the table at each other, completely ignoring the way their son couldn't handle it or the way their daughter just sat there, staring.

"Dammit." Jackson muttered angrily as he dropped his keys, bending down to pick them up, he slowed down.

"Jacky?" I asked when he sunk to the ground, head in his hands while he sat on the edge of the sidewalk, feet on the asphalt of the street.

He was breaking down.

"Jackson?" I asked again when he didn't reply, sinking down beside him and staring at the cars that moved by. The people in those cars all had things of their own, they weren't worried about two teenagers on the side of the road.

"Give me a minute, Em," he excused weakly, his voice raspy, bringing me back to the situation at hand. I hugged him from the side, trying to provide comfort as his rigid body loosened and his hands dropped from his face, resting on his knees.

He wanted to cry, you could tell but Jackson was like most guys, he didn't want to show weakness or vulnerability. He was sensitive, just not the kind of guy to cry over everything.

Especially not this, not in front of me or anyone.

A few minutes later, he was back on his feet and the moment of weakness was forgotten as we continued on to Sidney's house.

And as soon as we saw the pure white house with dark blue pillars and grey seating on the small porch, I breathed a sigh of relief before checking to see if her parents' Toyota Sequoia was anywhere in sight. When I didn't see it, I went up to grab the spare key from inside the mailbox and let myself in, the smell of curry overwhelming me as I kicked off my shoes and went up the stairs to my best friend's room, Jackson behind me.

Whenever I was not in the mood to be home and vice versa, this was the routine.

Sidney motioned to Jackson as he stood at the door, I raised an eyebrow before throwing myself on her bed and she nodded in understanding.

She raised an eyebrow at him as he just stayed there awkwardly, before she motioned around her room.

"Make yourself at home, buttface."

A/N:

Well, that was unplanned. And you might be wondering "Ty, the hell? You're updating a lot lately..."

But hey, when have I ever planned my books out or had an update schedule?

Updated: Saturday, Oct 18.

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