I was laying on my bedroom floor again, feeling utterly and entirely hopeless, listening to yet another unknown band's music. The yellow light of the late afternoon was a single ray, battling with the overwhelming shadows surrounding it.
It gave its all -- and then, it was defeated.
"Amar -- why are you not studying?" My mom walked in, pushing the door that I was comfortably leaning against. I sluggishly rose, like a snail from its shell, pulling on the creaking bedpost -- a double bunk, surprise -- and moved out of her way. I gave up on academics, but I didn't tell them that. My family.
They wanted me to have a future, something that I've already realized to its fullest.
In movies, in books, the protagonist graduates high school and then there's this Wattpad epilogue -- a Fast & Furious ending, if you will -- where everything wraps itself into a pretty green bow. But life isn't like that, it moves like a cloud: growing and shrinking and drowning everything in sight.
I don't say this, I just shrug.
She started to pick up the nest of useless poetry that'll never be published, and forgotten ideas balled in left-handed scrawl -- she thinks that this is caused by a 'sudden' interest, or that I'm just inspired -- and threw it into a pile. "Your father and I were talking about it, and we decided that you needed a tutor, for math."
***
"So when is he coming?" We're sitting at the dinner table.
It's been silent since my family all got home, and the nerves were getting worse.
A bicycle pulls up on the grass. A blond head emerges from the helmet.
Now, I supposed, but he looked familiar. He looked like a vision, some embodiment of Achilles or a statue of Apollo come to life.
My dad scowled, eyes narrowing. This was not his idea, but it was too late to back out. I'm sure that in some way that he believed that this was his fault.
My mother got up, ready to welcome her newest guest. My sisters all left the room, finding the chores distributed to them much more interesting.
My mom walked back in, holding the visitor by the arm.
"This is Elijah Nox, the guy that tutored at the school.
Nox was hardly older than I, but stress rested on his wheat-coloured head like gray hairs. He held out his hand, and shook my dad's hand. "A pleasure to meet you, sir."
And then I remembered that face. the guy that threw that drink on my head at Pride.
It took ages convincing my parents that some drunk asshole accidently poured it on me.
How ... convenient.
"I'll allow the two of you to be acquainted." My mom took her husband's hand, and scurried off.
I looked at him, and he looked at me. He clears his throat.
"Okay, introductions. I'm Elijah, but you can call me --"
"What are you doing here?
"-- Eli."
I pointed to the door. "Get out."
"No ... I don't think I will." The asshole, or Eli should I call him, made himself comfortable on a chair.
"Listen here, pretty boy --"
"Do you mean that in an insulting way or are you flirting with me right now?"
I bit back a blush, leaning into his face to intimidate him, as one does.
"You're only here to tutor me, right? Fine, but I'm not gonna make it easy on you."
He leaned in as well, and I felt my face heating up.
"I'm counting on it."