I take the bottles of bourbon from the cupboard where my dad holds them, trying to balance them in my arms, and not break them while approaching the kitchen counter. I slowly put all of them on it and glance at them.
You are the only thing that my dad left me.
I groan trying to put my thoughts aside that seem deep, dark, and most importantly sad and painful. I hate that I'm suffering. I'm suffering because my parents left me in this big and lonely house filled with lavish things and multiple empty rooms only to go to Seul on some press conference.
Don't think that I'm a brat. I know they're trying to earn money and make my future easier, and safe. But sometimes I find myself wishing that we were poor, so they can be at home, so we can have dinner, lunch, and breakfast together, no matter how little food we would have. So we can just sit, and pray like a family, holding our hands together, entwined. Then we could chat about our day. But we don't. Every time they are here, I'm either in school or asleep. And then when I come back or wake up, I find a credit card, more money, and a note. A note which always says the same words.
Sorry, we had some business to handle.
Sorry, son, we are not coming to your play.
Sorry, Jason, we had to go on a trip. We'll be back soon.
Lately, I don't even read them, yet just tear them and throw them in the bin.
And today when I came back after Boris dropped me, and refused to come in because he is so obsessed with the moon girl, I found another one of those post-in notes glued to the fridge. I didn't even read it, just saw Seul, and immediately torn it. I squeeze my fist and grip the kitchen counter.
The two of them go to the meetings, eat lunches, dinners whatever their business partners offer them, oh and probably have sex in the most expensive hotels all around the world, and what do I do?
Sit alone. Watch TV alone. Scroll through boring Instagram alone. Sleep alone in my room in the silence, in this big house of which I'm so afraid since it's so lonely and fucking quiet. The truth is that I'm afraid of loneliness and dark. Especially of the dark, since I was a little kid, I always begged mom not to turn off the lamp in my room, since I used to believe that the monsters would devour me. I still believe. And that is why there's always the lamp in my room. But it doesn't help because I'm alone and there's no one to protect me. How childish I sound. But ever since that happened I'm afraid of being alone. But my parents don't seem to care about it and think that the butler will be able to protect me from someone if they try to attack me again.
But, beforehand I told him to go home. He either way just comes to make me food and clean, so what is the point in him being here, when he finished his job? If there are no my parents, then I don't want a fucking butler, either. And if he's around then I can't break things and try to ease the anger while punching the expensive things my parents keep filling this house with. They don't even realize when something is missing because there're too many things in this silent house. No matter how much stuff I break, there is always more to fool my parents, so they can never guess that I'm ruining and demolishing the house in their absence, and butler cleans that so when they come back all the mess is already gone. But the question I want to know the answer to, is what they really think I do in this lonely house? Do they keep that I really go shopping with their credit cards, that I make parties or that I bring girls here? I do none of that.
Yeah, I may have thrown a party or two, but nothing more. People don't really like me so no one comes to my parties anyway. I mean they don't actually care who is organizing the party, as long as they can drink, dance, do drugs, and have sex in my rooms. Yeah, one of many reasons why I stopped throwing parties. I don't want anyone's erection in my room. But butler is there to change all the sheets, to clean the mess they make, the broken things, that someone drunk must have knocked out by an accident. Whatever.
But the truth is that not many people like me actually, even though I'm the rugby captain. They are all afraid that I'd punch them whenever they say something wrong. I was suspended when I had beaten Khalid. But the motherfucking son of a bitch deserved it. He betrayed me. I trusted him and opened my soul to him, yet he dared to use my vulnerability against me, throwing it in my face, laughing. In school, everyone started pitying me, and someone even mocked me that I should go counseling because of my anger issues. And before Khalid did that I'd never been violent in school. Only at my house, punching my bag in my house gym. But after I found out that he told everyone my issues, my deepest and saddest thoughts, and how mommy and daddy don't treat him right, I lost it. I couldn't see anything as I started punching his big black muzzle. I couldn't hear his cries and see kids' phones recording my outburst. And security barely somehow managed to pull me off him and afterward I was suspended.
Where were my parents then? God knows. In Toronto, Tokyo, Vienna, I have no fucking idea. But they never found out because they came back a month later, when everything was already forgotten, so the principal didn't even call them when they came back, to scold me to them. When he first tried to reach them over a phone, still with me sitting in his office, jigging my leg up and down, angry that they pulled me from Khalid, and didn't let me finish breaking all of his bones, they said that they were in a big business and couldn't talk. My dad said quote: We will pay for everything that Jason broke, and whatever stupid thing he had done, we will send a cheque. You won't be damaged, nor the family of that boy. We will send a cheque to them, as well. And he hung up. That was the moment when the principal realized that I was a lost cause, for which not even his parents care, so he just shook his head, and told me that I was suspended for a week.
After I came back, I got into two more fights and got suspended again. Over the past two years, I had caused so many fights, only to make the principal call my parents, hoping that someday they are going to be pissed and come to scold me. Anything, I'd even bear spanking from father, but they didn't show up. Dad just sends some cheque with a big amount of money, so the principal even though he wanted to, couldn't throw me out of the school.
So, yeah, seems like my parents know what kind of bastard I am. That maybe is the reason why they always try to avoid me. So they don't have to look at their aggressive son, who keeps ruining their reputation. The reputation they're building all over Europa and Asia. Maybe they go on trips so they don't have to deal with me. I don't know, this crossed my mind, too. Whatever is the reason, I hate it. And I tried to draw their attention with too many things, so maybe I should stop doing that since nothing worked. I still haven't gotten into any fight since the beginning of the senior year. And I maybe won't because fights probably aren't the way to bring my parents back. But maybe nothing is.
I open the first bottle but quickly close it. I take a pic of them together and put it on my Instagram story. Why? Maybe my parents' attention can't be drew, but someone else's can.
I type Me, myself, and these babies and I click add to your story. It's pathetic when you think that if you put something disturbing on your story, someone may reply, asking how are you. We live in this era of social media when people don't care about the look on your face, but about your Instagram, photos, likes, comments, and followers. They see how we look through Instagram, they don't bother to look at us in real life, because they are perfectly aware that life through Instagram is way better. Everyone is perfect, everyone is beautiful, pretty, and amazing. They decide what kind of person we are by how many followers and likes on photos we have. They find out what matters in our lives, by our stories, highlighted stories, or people we tag. But I have no one to tag.
Even in my team, people don't like having me there. Yeah, I'm the captain, but that only happened because I threatened everyone I'd break their noses if they didn't choose me. They listen to what I tell 'em partly because they care about the team, and winning, partly because I'm mostly right when it comes to the strategies we should use, but actually they are trying to save themselves from my strong fists and painful punches I can throw with it. They are scared of me.
I, too like my parents, built a reputation, by intimidating people. I use fear as my weapon. But as well as it is my weapon, it is my poison at the same time. It eats me at night and gives me a hard time falling asleep. You maybe won't understand that I love when a girl sleeps with me, just because I have someone next to me, whom I can hug, whom I can feel and I can sleep peacefully, knowing that I'm not alone in the empty house. But it's hard to find a girl who wants to sleep with me, because of my reputation I built myself. And no, I'm not a typical bad boy. Or, I'm a bad boy just not the one girls like to be with. Maybe I'm too intimidating for their liking. But I found a solution for that. I go somewhere where every girl wants me. Somewhere...
But, of course, you would never guess that I'm that type of a guy who has anger issues when you saw me surrounded by my teammates calling that curly new boy to come and join us. All of them just act nice because they don't want to tempt me, and they know how badly I'll hurt them if they do. The important fact is that I don't start fights out of nothing. Yeah, I did that a few times, but when I don't have a reason, I really don't do it. Even when someone teases me, I try not to throw a punch in their muzzle and make it bleed. I try to calm myself, only to quickly realize that I actually have nothing to lose if I punch them. My parents' love, my girlfriend, my friend. Nothing. I don't have any of that. Just the sadness filling my empty heart and then the anger that seems to be my only friend. It's always there to keep me warm, to fill my voids, and heal my bruises. Even when it doesn't boil in my veins, it's flickering inside of me quietly, waiting for its fire to spread and burn me. Waiting for someone not to extinguish it, but to turn it on.
And, of fucking course, that there are people who even though they know I'd beat their asses and break their muzzles, and teeth, still tempt me, provoke me, and insult me.
At first, I thought they just needed more spanking, so they could learn a lesson, but since there would always appear some douchebag I realized they didn't care about broken nose nor teeth. They can always fix it, replace them. What they care about is the feeling of burning fire that is flickering in their bellies, every time they insult someone. For me, that is the adrenaline when I punch someone. For them it's the same but, the adrenaline is increasing not by each punch they throw, but with each insult that escapes their dirty mouth. Those people who are feeding on other's people pain are called bullies. Those people bully the moon girl with whom the new boy became so obsessed. But she doesn't do anything about it, or at least not that I know. But, let's face it, I don't know anything about her. Except...
And even this big boy who scares the half of school has his enemies, his bullies. And Khalid was one of them when I thought he was actually my friend. It...
The sound of my phone cuts off my thoughts. I glance at my lock screen to see an Instagram notification. If Instagram notified me that someone started a live video or that someone posted something after a long time I'll...
I frown when I see a message from Boris.
You shouldn't be drinking, it says.
Well, to be honest, I didn't expect anyone to reply to my story. And I'm surprised he did, but he wasn't the one I wanted. Actually, I didn't want anyone special, but...
He is too naive to step into a friendship with me. Even though I feel good when I spend time with this curly boy. But I feel really angry when he rejected to come in earlier this day. No, I actually felt sad, but like I said anger is my only friend who visits me and comforts me. But, maybe he realized that it is better if he kept his distance, so he rejected. I can't really blame him, I told him to go away from me. And he said he wouldn't stay away. Only to rejected me because he had to go and find that moon girl who doesn't want to be found. Even though I don't know her that well, I know that she doesn't want to be found. Boris wouldn't like her if he knew what I know. And she wouldn't like for him to know. Though, I can't be jealous, that he has a crush on her, and I don't have any crush. Do I have a crush? I do, but my crush is again impossible just as Boris' is. In fact, these two girls resemble so much, and I have no idea why we had to have a crush on them, the most complicated girls who exist on planet Earth.
Before I can think more of him, or the girl that I tried to forgot after the first time when I saw her, I type him an answer:
You tell me curly.
I take a gulp of burning bourbon and come back to thinking, even though I wanted to stop. It's what I do the best. I can never stop thinking. No matter how much I try I can't. So instead of running away from it, I'm gladly embracing it now.
When I saw Boris smiling politely nodding to Khalid I recognized myself. A naive boy with the pain in his chest, tightening, desperately needing a friend. Now Ris, may not have that pain, but he needed a new friend to help him go through his first day in a new school. And Khalid was the one who took him by his hand, leading him and showing everyone's true colors. Or should I say the colors he wanted to show Boris. He wanted to screw him as he screwed me. I felt anger, but most importantly I felt an enormous urge to save that curly and naive boy which naivety you can easily read in his big brown eyes. I wanted to save him from fake and toxic friends, and maybe even a betrayal he could go through as I did.
I know it wasn't my duty to do this, but I wanted to. And I put aside my anger issues and forgot that people were scared of me, and are my friends just because of that damn fear my figure awakes in them. But Boris didn't know that, then. He didn't know the reputation I built in this school. No, he just saw me surrounded by my teammates and not the boy who is sad because his parents are neglecting him, what others know thanks to motherfucker Khalid. I saw myself in Boris, I was once naive, and believed everyone and tried to be nice to people so they could accept him, unlike his parents who put him aside, caring more for their business, money, and carrier. And I wanted to take that Boris, who looked like my old myself, and befriend him. For a second, I believed that I could again be a normal boy like him, who cares for everyone and isn't aware of how cruel this world actually is. How evil people in it can be, caring only for their own satisfaction.
But I quickly remember that I could also ruin his nose if he tempted me, and I didn't want to show my true colors that fast so I stepped out of the reverie of mine, coming back to reality in which I'm not a good boy nor a good friend. I don't have any friends.
Austin. He's well... he and I have a very weird relationship and type of communication. I reached for his help when I was struggling to pass some exams in sophomore year and I threatened him to help me. He didn't care. So I had to beg him. Beg, I despise that word. Again he refused. And... no I don't want that story now. Anyway, in the end, he helped me and we became well not friends, but we can, at least stand each other, unlike at the beginning when I was cursing him every time he would look at me the wrong way, which was... well every time. And he is the only one I want to punch, but sustain myself from doing that. We bicker and he always rolls his eyes at me and insults me, but I know that he doesn't mean any of that.
He is a different kid. Different from the others of whom this world has to offer. But we never bonded and I didn't talk to him about my personal life. He'd come to my house to tutor me, I paid him, and that was it. After Khalid, I couldn't afford to repeat the same fucking mistake, and no matter if Austin looked different I was still recovering from what that black kid did to me. I'm no racist. But I'm a racist when it comes to Khalid.
Anyway, Austin is the only one I talk to in the school. But talk without knowing that he gossip about me behind my back. He doesn't do that, just because I'm aware that he's scared, even though he tries to act as if he wasn't. He overgrew that barrier he put between us. Or I put. Sometimes during studying, we would even laugh, my rude comment and dirty mouth would make him laugh. And even if at the beginning I thought he was helping me just because of money, I stopped thinking that. He even sent me a text to wish me happy birthday and sent me some cake from the café he works in. That was when I realized that he cared. But doesn't want to go deeper and dig into my anger issues.
Every time I'd start yelling at him, he'd leave me and tell me that he won't be back unless I calm down. So, that was when I saw his anger. He wouldn't be running away if he wasn't scared that I'd punch him. He didn't wanna show his fear, so he acted untouchable, but his running away got him away. And I can safely say that I don't know his story either. Except that he works at that café and that he needed money and that was why he in the end, accepted to tutor me.
Just as I don't know the moon's story, yet we share something... Seems like I have weird relationships and connections with some people, well most of the people, without knowing their real story. And I keep calling those people my friends, even though they are none of that.
But, I like to believe that he is the only one to whom I can talk without forcing him to do so. He's the only one who can help me with school, whenever I need it. But he made things clear. He won't be there ever again if I ever punch him. And like I've said, every time I'd punch books or throw them when I was failing to understand something he'd immediately leave. Like my parents did. So, yeah that is my and Austin's story. I said this as if we were in a relationship. Duh.
I take a bigger gulp and check my phone. A Youtube notification, and Instagram one. I tap on Instagram to see one message in my DM. Boris again. I tap on it, to read it.
Do you want me to come?
Yeah, when I wanted you to, you rejected me. So, no. Not now. Now it's too late. But instead of it, I type:
No, why would I need you like my company? I told you to stay away from me.
But, okay, I really understand him. I mean I don't understand, but I'm trying to. He really wanted to find that girl and seems like he fell in love. I mean I don't know how it looks like to fall in love, but maybe all that caring he does is a sign of falling in love. And I shouldn't feel bad for being rejected because of the moon girl. Then why do I?
I don't need him here now, when I'm planning on getting drunk and going to the bed, falling asleep easily because the alcohol will make my head giddy and I will luckily forget about my fear of darkness and loneliness.
I glance at my phone, the chat still open, to see him typing, but soon he stops. I wait a few more seconds only not to see three dots, anymore. So, it seems like I got what I wanted- him away from me. Maybe he won't bother me, anymore. Do I want him to continue being my... friend? He read me.
When I told him about the cars he immediately understood that I didn't want my parents' money, but them instead. I was surprised at how quickly it took him to read me, that it made me wonder if he had maybe heard something about me. But when he told me that if I got burnt didn't mean that I should stop doing anything, I seriously started asking myself if Boris was some kind of angel that God had sent me to apologize for making my parents workaholics. Even though I actually don't believe in God. But maybe he remembered my existence and decided to sent me Boris. And soon I was proven right...
Before I can take another gulp I hear a bell on my door. Ugh, what now, I groan as I push myself off the bar stool in the kitchen, swaying a little but. Ups, I'm already a little tipsy. When I hiccup I'm proven right.
The bell rings again, and the person behind the door knocks.
"Coming, idiot!", I yell, groaning and stumbling on my feet.
Must be that idiotic butler, who forgot something. Yesterday he forgot his jacket, so he came back, and ruined the hope of someone visiting me. Now, I'm not going to get that hope again. I do get it every time I hear the doorbell, even though I know that no one wants to visit me. I just wonder what he forgot now?
Okay, the long chapter about Jason. What do we think about him now when we know more about him? Honestly, he reminds me a lot of Michael from my book Star and its darkness, so if you haven't read that, you could check it out.
I keep thinking that I basically made Michael's clone.
I hope you weren't bored by the length and non-existen dialogue.
I don't have to ask you who is coming, because we, unlike Jason, know who is behind the doors. I'm excited about Boris' arrival, to be honest.