A/N: hey Bitches and bros and non-binary hoes I genuinely have no idea why your not reading this on ao3 but here you go, chapter 2 ✨ Totally did not forgot about you guys for several weeks
The first thing that came to mind while creating Drew's backstory (none of it is canon btw) is "how much can I traumatise this child?" And I've discovered the answer is an infinite amount, it's like he's made for misery, I CAN'T HELP IT, ITS OUT OF MY CONTROL NOW..
(Author feels no remorse for this)
Also wdym I changed the last chapters name bc it got mixed up with this one? You must be high..
TRIGGER WARNING
implied drug use
Implied alcoholism
Implied underage sex
Vulgar language
Scary scary teenagers
Cheating
Explicit language
Cat favouritism
Sexualising minors
Violence
Implied non-con/r*pe (nothing to do with Drew guys, dw)
Misogynistic teens
Referenced Suicide(not Drew)
If there was one thing people knew about Drew besides the fact he was an asshole, it was that his punches hurt like hell. Well, atleast the people he'd hit in the face did.
He couldn't box. He couldn't box for shit.
He could fight though. When you're a thirteen year old kid, have an alcoholic as a mother, an egoistical bastard as a father, and a mate who talks about killing people, you're always fighting. Fighting the urge to die, fighting your parents, fighting the imbeciles at school who think they're all it.
Drew's life sucks.
So?
Everyone else are like dogs to him. Barking and yapping like idiots, begging for attention. Chasing their tails. They're all fools.
But not him. Drew's different. He's smart. He gets straight A's, he has a girlfriend, he's had sex, he's musically, literately, artistically, mathematically, scientifically gifted. He's rich.
Nobody truly loves him, but he doesn't care. He's Drew Fernandez. He doesn't need something as worthless as love.
He's great. Everything is good.
It sucks, but it's all good.
If everyone around him are dogs, he's a cat. He's more intelligent, he's wiser and he's cooler.
His girlfriend likes him, even if his parents don't.
I mean, at least his parents are alive, unlike mateo's. And at least he's not poor like Sarah. Plus he has a biological father. Katherine and William don't.
They might be loved and wanted by someone, but at least he's rich and has a real dad and has parents who aren't dead.
At least he has a last name his neighbours will remember.
They might not remember Drew himself, but they'll remember his dad, Dominique Fernandez; That's for sure.
Drew knows, because the neighbour with the blue door's wife had sex with Dominique 2 years ago and her husband divorced her six weeks later. Lucoz, his classmate, told him about it. He said he hated his mum now, and that Drew and his fucking dad should go kill themselves. He's the one who talks about murdering people all the time. Drew's own mother was too high and drunk to remember. In the future all she'll be able to do is watch videos from years ago to catch a glimpse of her sons life.
But Drew's a cool guy. He's chill.
He hurts everyone—
He's chill.
Everyone hates his guts-
...
Oh. Well, Drew hates their sorry asses too.
———
Drew opened his locker, pristine compared to the others in his row, though still filthy per his own standards.
"Hey Drew, Whatcha doing?" Rocco snickered, leaning against the shitty, cheap lockers covered in doodles and graffiti.
He was one of the older boys, and one with a shit reputation at that.
His circle was full of worthless punks who didn't deserve to live and tried to gain value by beating up the people who weren't fucking useless and sleeping with every girl they meet (Drew didn't know how they did that with their horrible everything, and he didn't want to).
Drew really, wholeheartedly, believed there should be a name for men like that. Men who disrespected your boundaries and snuck drugs to parties. Men who would take you to a room then get you to have sex with them, by manipulation or force or whatever the fuck else they kept up their sleeves.
Ah, never mind—There already was.
Fucking rapists.
Rocco reeked of bio, sweat and drugs. Drew wanted to rip his teeth out the moment he heard his stupid voice (He dejectedly refrained).
Two other boys stood besides him, white shirts untucked, ties missing. Drew could see a pack of cigarettes in one of their pockets. They looked like idiots. Drew recognised the one with navy blue hair as..Mauve? Mauvon? No, it wasn't that..Mauven then? Hmm, that sounds right. Mauven.
"What do you want?" Drew asked the group lazily, smoothly sliding his textbooks into his locker. His fingers trembled slightly, but nobody needed to know that.
The hallways were damp and dingy, Like the remnants of a burning city; Dust, shadows, and the taste of their screams as mothers, sons, daughters and children were all burnt alive.
Like the ghost of all the people who hung themselves in these filthy little bathrooms and cried every day were looming and watching them with their empty, ghoulish eyes. The kids who were groped by their classmates, or drugged then..
Fuck. Drew's eyes were all watery and shit now.
They didn't deserve that.
People were so sick. They were so-
Drew squeezed his eyes shut for half a second, searching for the button that switched off his emotions. When he found then flicked it, he didn't feel relief; Just proceeded to unpack his bags. That's what happens when you turn of the thing that equals humanity. You become like a robot, doing what you were trained to do.
And that's it.
He knew the walls behind the lockers were infected with asbestos and mold, so he didn't let them sit against it. He could see and smell it, and he knew it would ruin his workbooks as well. He couldn't block out the utterly dumbfounded feeling about how the school couldn't even bother to add backs to their lockers though—it was a daily necessity. He'd lose his sanity if he stopped criticising everything he saw.
Rocco's voice came out in this low husky growl."I want you. Lacies a slut. I'm good in bed, way better than her. C'mon man, give me a chance," he said, closing in on Drew just a little.
just a little, yet for a second his entire world stopped.
Then it started playing again, and Drew shut his locker with more force than usual. "Go away. And don't talk about my girlfriend like that," he snapped, walking to his class, black pencil case and notepad in hand.
"Bye Drew~ Meet me in class b2 if you change your mind!" Rocco cheered at his fading back.
Drew wasn't fearless.
He went straight into the bathroom, locking himself in the stall.
Shit.
Shitshitshit-
SHIT.
Why, WHY did that TRAMP take interest in him?
He sunk to the ground, heart racing. Dirt crawled between the large grey floor tiles, speckled with grime. It seemed he'd flicked the switch of his emotions on by accident, because tears were trailing down his cheeks and he felt so goddamn scared it was pathetic.
He didn't wanna end up like those girls, didn't want to experience that shit.
He heard the door open, and the sound of loud voices filled his ears.
Drew clamped his hands over his mouth, biting back his sobs. Oh god.
OH MY FUCKING GOD-
"—a son of a bitch. People don't know what they want. Only others know that crap, yet they get angry when we give it to them!"
"You got what you wanted though?"
A grunt, and the sound of piss hitting the urinals. Drew hated those things.
"Was it even worth it? Stubborn little bitch, she bit me on the arm. Girls are so stupid. Like, you beg to suck on my dick yet when I'm on top of you, you pussy out? Bullshit man."
"So you didn't fuck."
"I had to convince her. It felt like years. We were watching a crappy movie, then I made a move and she was fine!"
"Then what's the big deal?"
"I was just holding her down, kissing her and biting her, and she kept on moving. I ignored it first, but it got really fucking annoying and I wanted to get it over with. She was crying and I kissed her for a sec to shut her up, yeah yeah bad move, then started unbuttoning her shirt. And guess what? she bit me! Real hard too. Like, not love bites, actual biting. It took HALF HOUR to soothe her into it."
"..Man. That's sick," He said, but his voice had this chuckle that made Drew taste vomit. Did he mean sick as in gross or sick as in cool? Every word they said had bile crawling up his throat.
"Piss off, you do that crap too!"
"Hmm, it's different with me. I make them feel good, give them a bunch of compliments and act all soft. Girls here are uneducated dumpsters so they got some bite, but they're all the same once they're naked.
"You rich kids are all freaks.."
Drew felt like he'd been listening for hours. There was vomit in his mouth, it tasted sour and disgusting and—
The door slammed shut.
Bile spilled from his mouth and into the toilet, clumpy and thick. He clutched the toilet seat, arms trembling. Then, with one hand still holding the seat, He grabbed a tissue, hastily wiping the tips of his mouth. When he saw the vomit he gagged, it looked nasty and vile.
He was so weak.
Tears were flowing out of his eyes before he could comprehend it. Didn't even notice till he could taste the tears, which made him feel even more nauseous.
He was screwed.
. . .
"Is he gone?"
"Yea—"
"Ayooo, ya sleep with boys now?"
"Yeah mate, I really thought you were straight as a nail."
"He's pretty just like a girl. And I've never had sex with a boy. Doesn't he look like the perfect first? He's got a nice face, and a nice body. Plus he's small, like he'd fit right beneath me. And he's innocent, he can't even swear."
"Maaann, you got rejected by a kid who don't even cuss? That's low."
"Piss of Miguel."
"Hey, why don't we pull 'Im in a room for ya. Drug him or sumn'. You can fuck him easy then."
"That's gross Mauven. I'm not a raper, ew. Get your nasty ass out of here before i kill you. You think I can't get him when he's got a working brain?"
———
Drew yawned, fiddling with his pencil. Everything was so easy. He watched the clock tick by slowly, wishing it would go faster. Lunch was almost here—he could almost leave this glum classroom..almost..
The bell rang, and without waiting for dismissal everyone rushed out, chatting and yelling. He sat up slower than the rest, still a bit woozy, and started to put away his pens.
"for the last time, DREW!" the teacher yelled, snapping him out of his daze.
"GREAT! ITS ON THE DESK AND PAPER NOW! DREW FERNANDEZ, CLEAN UP YOUR MESS THIS INSTANT!" She screamed, throwing a wet sponge at him that landed three desks back.
Drew snarled at her, (What was she on about?) Before smelling the scent of blood. He blinked, looking down at the desk. Sure enough, there was blood on it. Drew rolled up his sleeve, and was met with the sight of red oozing down his forearm.
It made his stomach churn.
Drew pulled his sleeve back down, crossing his arms defensively. Why was she so upset?
She truly looked enraged, and laughter was bubbling in his throat. If she wanted to get his blood boiling, slap him in the face without touching his filthy self, she sure did.
How dare she be angry about someone bleeding on a paper, when Drew has a horrible everything and he has to sit here as if nothing is wrong? how THE FUCK IS THAT—
"Ok miss." Drew said monotonously.
He picked up the paper.
Then in the silence, he slowly tore the sheet up, throwing it in her face once he was done. She looked stunned. "Here you fucking go."
He didn't wait for her lecture, just stormed out of the room, rubbing his temple. The blood was dripping down his skin and it felt horrid, like a colony of ants crawling down his arm. He wasn't going into the bathroom again, though. He never did, this morning was just an exception.
Tsk, Everything's Fuckin' annoying. Why did this morning have to happen?
He walked down the dingy hallway and towards his locker, scowling at the people running like maniacs and shoving him around. By the time he'd put his textbook away the halls were deserted, and he decided he didn't want to eat today. The food was shit, and the kids were even more so.
Ugh, That woman left his mood extra sour. Great.
"Adults are the worst," Drew grumbled. He hated the fact he had to become one of those disgusting creatures. Hated how it's inevitable.
Unless, of course..
Someone knocked on the lockers behind him, and he turned around. It was one of the boys who were hanging with Rocco. He was leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed. He had a black eye that looked worryingly raw and fresh, if only he were at any other place. Violence was almost a norm to him now, despite the fact he'd only attended a month or so, and he didn't really care about it that much. It scared him still, but not as much as when he was little.
Rocco wasn't with him, nor was the other guy. He only recognised him because someone he worked on a school project with—Stephanie—was dating him. She said he's a senior, so 17 or 18 probably. But he heard he was kept back for failing, so he could be older. Drew swallowed nervously. What did this guy want from him?
When he breathed in, The air tasted stale.
Rocco's goon (as Drew named him) walked closer, till he was right in Drew's face.
He looked pissed. That wasn't good. That was shit. Oh gosh. Breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe breathe BREATH-
Mauven started circling around him like an eagle eying it's prey. His body was relaxed, hands in his pockets. If Drew was anyone else he'd laugh at the sight, but looking from the outside and experiencing from the inside are two very different things. His heart was racing, he couldn't deal with this crap.
"Hey kid. Look at me, yeah? D'ya see that mark round my eye? Yea?"
Mauven kicked the back of Drew's knees, and Drew stumbled to the floor. He ended up kneeling and glaring up at the boy who towered above him.
"Because of good old," he let out a grunt as he kicked drew square in the guts, "you."
Drew's stomach lurched and he clutched his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing.
That really hurt.
"He'd pay for that" someone said. Drew didn't know who, but it sounded disconcertingly familiar yet..unfamiliar too.
"Mauven." He enunciated, biting the inside of his cheek. "What. Do. You. Want." Drew spat, still clutching his chest. This time when he glared up at the boy before him, his eyes burned with hatred and spite.
Maven's brow quirked in amusement. "Oh, you want me on name status huh? Rocco and his goons went all at me 'cause of you ya know. 'M afraid I gotta return the favour." He sneered, grabbing Drew by the collar and dragging him up so he could get a good angle.
Then he swung a hit, and the sound of it slamming against Drew's jaw was jarring—echoing through the hallway.
Drew could taste blood in his mouth, and he was stunned.
Then something snapped in him.
It didn't last long, hardly a second. But he could hear the sound, like the pop of a bone when you snap it back into place.
For that second, he wasn't sure what happened.
Something dark, something far too dark for the naked eye to see, overwhelmed him.
It felt a lot bigger, a lot colder. And he could feel it stabbing his organs and its claws piercing his lungs, dragging itself upward. He could feel it crawl up his oesophagus to his throat—the feeling of millions of thorns stabbing his insides tearing him apart.
.
..
...
"FUCK-" the navy blue haired teen yelled.
Drew punched him again and again and again. And Mauven screamed, because he realised what a demon this thirteen year old boy was. He realised that this boy could kill him.
bang Went Mauves head as it slammed against the floor.
Bang went the sound of Drew's fist as it slammed into Mauves jaw.
Drew was panting heavily, his breaths harsh and rigid. He kept on hitting, and tears began to stream down his Face. He reminded himself of something, something a bit like a.. A bit like a monster. You know, those evil things in fairytales? The villains, like that witch from Hansel and gretel. Or the villain queen who tried to kill snow white. What was her name again? Evil Queen, was it? How bland. Drew felt a bit like those guys. The bad guys.
Or he would, but he couldn't really feel anything.
Hah. Funny.
...
Why couldn't he feel anything?
Drew was crying hard now. He was crying and he looked hysterical and deranged. Normally, being hysterical meant you were affected by an uncontrollable emotion.
Drew appeared to be going through a whirlwind of emotions on the outside, just like he should. But on the inside, there was just this black hole. It seemed to be sucking away all his feelings, because he felt nothing. This black hole must have done something very awful to be banished into a little boy's body instead of the limitless expanse of space. It was very good at its job, because Drew felt.. Drew wasn't conscious. Or he was, but he wasn't thinking. Only doing.
That should've terrified him, but it just..
Couldn't.
Drew squeezed his eyes shut. This was something. Strange, maybe. He couldn't tell. Was this a good thing? What was this?
The first thing he heard was the thump of his heart when his eyes opened.
Then his fist halted.
Mauven's body was flickering and warping, distorting into a..
The blood drained from his face; He blinked in shock.
What. The. Fuck.
Holy-
Drew's mouth quivered.
"...mum?"
His arms shook. "...mama? Clematis?"
His voice trembled. Snot was smeared on his face and tears stained his face. He could still taste his own blood. "Your..dad said you were gone-mama..mama I'm so sorry.."
His voice took a tone of pleading. "I- I didn't mean to- I thought it was- Mama mamaplease, I didn't mean to hurt you I thought it was—"
But he couldn't hear her breathing.
"No."
"NO!"
"NO..NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO!"
He screamed, shaking her lifeless body in his arms.
what have you done?.
WHAT HAVE YOU FUCKING DONE?!
You monster.
SHUT UP-
You monster.
SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU DONT KNOW WHAT I'VE HAD TO-
Your a fucking monster.
His pupils contracted in realisation.
He really was a monster. No normal person could do this. No normal person could kill their own-
Only two things were on his mind. The main was a question he was too panicked to answer.
"What have you done?"
And yet it still kept on ringing in his ears. He clutched his head in pain.
Drew choking out this ugly sob, and wiped his face with his sleeve—snot, blood and tears smearing—he's so disgusting-
"No..no no no..." Drew murmured, grabbing his mums shoulders and shaking her. He did it so softly, like her bones would break into a thousand invisible shards and he'd loose her again if he squeezed too hard.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Everything was merging together, disorientated and distorted.
She wasn't breathing.
He killed her.
Drew's eyes widened and he just..
screamed.
It was ear piercing and raw, and it clawed at his throat till all the tissues and flesh were ripped away.
It was the kind of thing that overflowed with pain. Like- he sounded like he was fucking dying. It was morbid.
He couldn't stay here.
He really was dying.
His soul was sitting on the banks of the river of forget. It was full of souls that were never reincarnated, and they weeped dolefully.
His heart was thrown onto the yellow spring road, and souls trampled it as they treaded onwards. It still had a way to go.
And he had to go.
HE HAD TO FUCKING GO—
Blood dripped from his knuckle and onto the stone cold floor. Everything shattered. His mum wasn't there anymore.
Instead, it was Mauven. A very abused Mauven, but a Mauven nonetheless.
Drew never saw that, though.
He'd backed up instantly, running out of the school.
April's showers hit him hard, drenching him when he'd barely escaped two steps into the empty parking lot.
He was suffocating, the air wrapping around his neck and wringing it.
Then a hand gently, gently, touched his shoulder.
Drew couldn't turn around—
TURN AROUND.
Drew couldn't breathe.
Drew couldn't live anymore.
Drew didn't deserve to live anymore.
"It's ok. Mummy doesn't forgive you, but it's ok."
———
"But Nana, I said I'm sorry. Why won't you forgive me?"
"Because you hurt mummy's feelings."
"...feelings?"
"Yes, my love. Feelings."
"..How did I hurt your feelings?"
"...No matter."
"Oh. Ok."
"Oh Clematis, your so cold..where's the sweet girl I love?"
"Nana, I told you. Mummy's gone now. Dad said she's gone now. I'm not Clematis. I'm Drew."
"What do you mean? You're my beautiful daughter! With that gorgeous magenta hair how could I mistake you, hm?
"Nana, im not a Girl. Im a Boy. Mummy Clematis gave me this hair, so that's why I have it too. It's specially from her, that's what papa says."
"What? What do you mean? Clem dear, what nonsense are you on about? Hush, love."
"Nana."
"Why don't you call me mummy anymore? Do you not love me?"
"Gloriosa. Clematis is gone."
Hands wrapped around him.
"Clem darling, you do know mummy adores you?"
Drew buried his head Into her chest. He hesitated, before nodding. "Mmm."
"Don't forget that mummy loves you ok?"
"Mhm. I won't. M'promise."
She stroked his loosely plaited hair and bangs. "Good girl."
...
"Ow. Nana, your nails are hurting my back. Put them somewhere else."
"Mummy can't."
"Why not?"
"Mummy has to make sure your as you as you can be. That's why you can't wear your dress yet."
"Oh yeah. Can I put my pyjamas on instead? I'm cold."
"Not yet sweetheart, mummy needs to find your dress still. Mummy hasn't found it yet, but she swears she will."
"Ok Nana. Then can I put a t-shirt on? They're just in the drawer in the room opposite. Until you find the dress."
"My love Clematis, Are you trying to climb away from me? I'm not your obstacle. Why must you try and climb away from me? Your not your name."
"But-"
"Hush, love. Mummy will make sure she finds your dress, and then you won't be cold anymore."
"Fine."
He snuggled into her, and there was a solitary silence.
Drew's voice, unusually quiet and meek, broke it,
"Nana, Papa says mama's gone. Do you know where mummy has gone?"
"What do you mean, Clem love?" She ruffled his hair. "Mummy's right here, always."
———
The rain had become a light drizzle, and the sun gleamed in the horizon, blades of light hitting his driveway and the patches of greenery.
He ran towards his house, pausing when his mother appeared from the passenger seat of their family car.
When she looked up, her eyes dilated in alarm. "Drew...Oh my god, What happened!?" She yelled, grabbing his cheeks and looking into his eyes.
His own were wide. "Mum.?" His gaze shifted to the pearl white suitcase beside her and the car overflowing with luggage, before falling back on her concerned expression. "What's...?"
"We're leaving. The president of your father's company died. He..he left it to Dominique."
"I- What? What do you mean.?" Drew stuttered, stunned.
"Last month. Mr Cemitõs passed away and left Dominique 8.5 million dollars and his company. Drew, we're moving to the city," she said, her eyes sparkling.
He hadn't seen his mother so happy in a while.
"We're leaving?" He sniffed, and he sounded so pitiful he would've laughed at himself if he didn't feel so numb.
A tear leaked from his mother's eye, and she pulled him into a tight embrace. "We're leaving, Drew. And I'm going to change. I've been so terrible to you, ever since Clematis died and I married Dominique I let myself fall into old habits. I want to be a better mother, Drew." she whispered.
Drew couldn't move his body, he was so stiff.
What.? What was going on..? They were..
They were leaving?
Does..does that mean he doesn't have to go to that horrible sanctuary anymore? Even though that was the only place he could go? Even though he ended up expelled from his last 2 schools and Blacklisted?
So...
So he gets a new chance?
He..he can be free?
He began to sob, and he could hear his mother flinch as he buried his head into her shoulder. He was almost as tall as her now.
"Mum..Am I re-really free..? Are we- Is this a prank..?!" He wailed, clutching onto his mother for dear life. "mu—mum please tell me your being—hic—serious..please..." He begged between tears.
There was silence for a moment, and his mother took a deep breath, pulling away but keeping her hands on his arms. Tears were rolling down her face, and she rubbed them away quickly. "I'm being serious Drew. Let's..let's get you cleaned up. Let's have that be your last memory in this house, m'kay?" She sniffled, her eyes red and watery.
Drew nodded dumbly, letting her hold his hand and following her into the house.
He felt like a little kid, walking for the first time.
———
Drew was sat in the warm bath, the bubbles floating around him, upper half exposed. The room smelt of what Drew assumed a family would feel like; This milky, warm but enriching scent that felt like it was hugging you and shielding you from the cold of outdoors.
It felt like—and Drew never thought he'd use this word again—home.
He was facing the wall, tears rolling silently down his cheeks, as his mother washed his hair for the first time since he was eight years old.
He could tell she was crying too, because her hands were trembling and her exhale and inhale were wobbly.
He felt...
He wasn't sure what he felt.
There was this weird..weird knot in his throat.
Like he was drowning, expect he wasn't.
She lathered the shampoo in, massaging it into his roots. Then she took the shower head from its stand, unsteadily and slowly, not making a sound. As if breathing too hard would shatter their moment. As if she thought this were a dream and if she made too much noise she'd wake up to the shitty reality of her life.
Drew was scared too. He hoped if this wasn't real, he could stay in this false reality for a while longer.
"Close your eyes," she muttered to him softly, her voice croaky and raw, then waited.
Drew realised she must've been waiting for him to confirm they were closed, so he nodded uncertainly, and she turned the shower on. The water rained down on Drew, washing away the dried snot and tears. Washing away the blood of another's and his own. He watched as it fell into the bath water, biting his lip to stop from sobbing. The shower stopped after 30 or so seconds, but the water dripping down his cheeks did not. He wiped his eyes as tears poured from them.
Stupid, stupid emotions...
His mother took a deep, shaky breath. "Do you want to turn around?" She whispered tenderly, and Drew said shook his head. "That's Okay." She assured, and leant forward to grab the body wash.
Her hair tickled his cheek. The body wash wasn't the one Drew used, she'd taken her own. It was in this pretty, miniature ocean-coloured glass bottle from one of those expensive London brands. It still looked brand new, despite the fact she bought it years ago and it had been sitting around unused since then.
Crap.
Why was this making him so emotional?
"..You don't have to hold back your tears."
Drew suddenly forced his eyes shut, the sobs he'd bit back bleeding out of him as he clamped a hand over his mouth. His shoulders were slouched and he must look so fucking angsty.
It all just hurt.
It hurt so bad.
His mother was crying aswell. She wasn't even trying to hide it anymore. As she poured out some blue coloured body wash, her hands were shaking. Her mouth kept on opening, but she didn't know what to say. Her words were clogged in her throat.
She slowly moved her hands, beginning to gently rub soap on his shoulders, then using the bath water to wash it off.
Drew felt like glass beneath her calloused fingers covered in tiny old scabs and cuts.
He felt uncomfortable, yet comfortable at the same time.
Does that make sense?
Drew thought not. How could you feel two opposites about one thing? You either hate or love something, you feel happy or sad. Your heart never chooses both, there's always one emotion that overpowers the other.
So, in that case, he supposed he was feeling love.
This gooey, desperate type of love.
Not like fondness though.
It was more like..like Drew would do anything to stay in this moment forever.
Because he felt scared, and he was crying alot, but in this bathtub, in a bathroom he never cared about, he was in a place where he could neither hurt nor be hurt.
He felt complete.
He felt like he meant something. When you're living a life like Drew's, that's not really something you're familiar with.
leaving the bathtub meant facing change. Drew never liked change, because change wasn't something he could control. It just happened. Maybe the change for him was that he was already dead.
He kind of hoped he was.
"Drew..Are you ready?"
"..No."
A sob.
"Drew..if we stay too long you'll get cold.."
...
"C'mon, mum will help you out ok?" She soothed.
He hung his head, and she waited. The candles dimly illuminated her face.
After a minute, Drew got up, slowly and carefully.
His hair was dripping wet, and his chestnut skin was dripping with water. Then he turned around, The water lapping around his feet, gradually dwindling.
She couldn't hold back when she saw him.
Her little boy.
So broken, so pained.
His lips were cracked, his eyes red and face splotchy. His fingertips were wrinkled from sitting in the bath so long.
Time went too fast.
It had already been nine years since she married Drew's father and her deceased sister's husband, Dominique. Clematis' little boy whom she entrusted to her. At the time he was only four years old.
She remembered seeing him and that horrible magenta hair. It still hurt to look at it. But now-
She loved him. She loved him and his magenta hair and his sarcasm. She loved him and she would shoot down all the stars for him.
Yet..Yet Drew was staring at her, wrapped in his black towel, as if the woman before him was unfamiliar. And at that moment she realised.
Realised she really was.
Suddenly, she said something to him. It wasn't long but it was filled with warmth and protection and pride and love and endearment and-
Drew kind of believed her.
He wasn't sure he could do that; put his trust in someone so blindly.
It was dangerous. He shouldn't. People don't change.
But he did.
Because Drew wanted to be cared about.
And maybe this was all a dream. If so, he desperately prayed he'd never ever wake up.
How much did he want that?
More than anything.
More than anything, Drew wanted to be loved.