Those Screams... Distant and Long Abandoned

Moving about a room of dark blue furniture and a fuzzy navy blue rug is besieged by morning sun.

Following along is a rocking chair, piles upon piles of textbooks, trophies, a varsity jersey, the mess of clothes of all dark colors, some charms here and there, a TV and console, with the controllers tangled in each other.

All leading within the bathroom of white cut alabaster tiling and furniture.

On the dresser is framed photos of a grinning boy in a dapper school uniform.

With a silver leaf at his breast.

Continuing on is a telescope on a veranda, the image of that boy rushing along in boxers and a toothbrush in his mouth.

Spitting in the bathroom before barreling for his pants hung on a bedpost.

He takes a pill, downing a glass of water and finally looks in the mirror. Smiling proudly of the put together prissy private school heir he sees. The only thing missing, the piece that sent a shot of melancholy beneath that roguishly dumb smile...

Was a purple armband.

A question quickly answered when Father peeked in.

Arm in a cast he held it up and with a gentle smile Vlad Masters put it on his left arm.

Breakfast, despite the stupor of fun conversation and light banter, was eaten quickly. He was about ready to get back to school since last Monday.

See his friends.

Viciously mock his basketball teammates, grind down for finals week.

How an emo in too big, dumpster found clothes would snort.

Plan the kicking class parties just shy of the old fogies' tolerance.

Following the... Incident, all their parents had put their foot down.

"Light some fires, no big whoop."

"Though you are something extraordinary in oral prowess."

It wasn't like they were struggling when it came to grades after all. So, happily would the schools let some of their best students reorient and put themselves back together.

The least one could do.

For letting students come to witness a death.

Bag slung over his good shoulder Danny lolled his tongue and in a sardonic salute raced out the door, into the limo seat.

He relaxed into Vlad doing work and taking in the usual sights of trees, one stop shops, turning into a rickety, quaint little village.

"Yellow," breathed a shy, pale violation of nature.

Writing samples handed off.

The solemn turn knocking on the door, to have them received by the teenager who had once been 'Dad.'

A bus stop into the city imminent one of the houses had another student with the shine of purple geode hangers on his bookbag and a matching tie.

Logan's mouth was in a vitriolic snarl, frustrated, hair messing acid spewing out like a radioactive bomb, hurled from his lips at his Mother.

Danny opened the window, Logan taking notice as he tried to soothe his nerves with a hand through his hair.

"Need a ride?" he said, the two facing each other with a vague sense of distrust in an otherwise cold, calculating stare.

Logan threw his bag in at the end.

Sighing, cowing under the weight of it all.

Neither ready nor able to deal with the pain of their own lives and much less the horrors of fire and love, and all the gooey, sticky tastes in a changeling's mouth.

And yet, being the most stable, it was their duty.

To be there. For their friends clueless and at wits end.

Sleepy and broken, lines dug grooves dragging down and grimly elongating his face.

Both talked, keeping eyes on their phones for texts of their friends.

Conversation dominated by sleep and eating habit; meticulously searching for those silent cries of help. The hints belaying self-loathing and torture of a wound malicious and yet unknowingly inflicted.

Logan got off twenty minutes from Daniel's own school. Right at the bus stop.

Danny later met up with Janus and Remus. Two boys with sly looks to them. He was no different, making a show out of a simple bow whilst Roman's twin curtsied.

He found looks always greeted the three.

"Cheerleaders are thirsty for you," Remus squealed, grossly sucking on the idea, earning a no-fuck elbow. "Save some for me will ya!"

"Don't listen."

He simply rolled his eyes.

"Got the Lit assignment? I can lend you my book."

"Dad had one... huge library."

The Prom was coming soon. Technically Danny was too young to go.

'Less some princess asked him.

"Bet!"

"No way, and come on I'm practically--"

"A baby?"

"Unhinged."

"Auuuughhhh. I meant the most awkward, white ass date one could imagine."

Somewhere between, looking into the sky from his seat as the teacher droned on the chapter a ringing overtook Danny.

And it was in that moment that his head found reprieve. From the din of classes that had become grey and listless.

An agitation baring down unto his skin and burrowing, burrowing, demanding release.

Danny turned baleful, regret seeping at the concept of red ink.

Splashed across his papers and disappointment so sharp and gutting in his parents' voices.

His friends refusing to catch his eye.

Arguments turning sour and poisonous as they burned. Bubbling and searing into his bones already weighed by delirious fever.

PSYCHOSIS.

When every night; in the cold where there was nowhere safe and no warmth of light nor promise of relief in the beacon of an electric bulb.

Battered and bruised. Skinned and stabbed, slashed and shot. Jeered and screamed. As the adults just kept hunting and stripping him down to so coldly criticize.

Because why was he here? Why was someone like him worthwhile?

Back then, before these friends, before bemused slaps on his back and plans made to go to the shops, back then was a very hard time.

One that didn't go away.

Where once on an empty bench, much like the one for the Eastward courtyard he'd pulled up his legs, hiding his face where crowds passed him by without a care.

He wasn't-- he couldn't have-- not him. Not as he was.

Too skinny.

Too pale.

High strung and a heartbeat from fight or flail wild until he either escaped or died.

Until a boy with a very pretty, very cocky face took pity on him and masterfully guided him out of his own dark wood.

Slowly, carefully he was led like some waddling baby bird on too weak legs through highschool.

In the same way did he sit now.

Not interested in playing any game or making any bets or stupid shipping drama.\\

It was way too loud.

...Roman, Patton, Logan. They and he had been friends for a good while at that point.

He, himself, now hardly able to put a feeling to the complete certainty of falling. How his stomach was still flying, how laughter bubbled so easily from his mouth.

The moments where he could almost break down crying and still smile; wide and stupidly sincere because... because it was so beautiful having friends and watching Roman stuff croquette sandwiches in his face.

So, he could perhaps, tell them.

Because they were asking questions.

"You change in the showers?"

"Bad cramp? Man you and that shoulder..."

Yeah, him and that shoulder. How the gun discharged and the flambe he had almost become as the night was storming.

"Crap I'm sorry. The staff mentioned--" Danny froze.

"You, don't like guns."

There were some weekends where, after the night of movies and gossip and ice cream, gorging on snacks and whispering into the dark, where all one could see were the pupils, where they'd take out a blanket, brew up some chocolate or whatever was hot, and take breakfast to go to some park nearby. Wherever gave that slow morning atmosphere of a retreat and relaxation picnic.

That was where he told the truth.

"My parents--"

"--for a ghost--"

"Phantom-- didn't like him... unfair--"

Danny shivered, hugging himself.

Just as Patton had the same idea, putting gentle hands, soothing a coming influx of unpleasant memories and sensory assault.

Roman traced fingers over that sore spot, careful and reverent.

"How can we help?"

A sentiment so unilaterally shared he may as well have integrated the tones of all three.

"Just let me be who I am," he said in a choked whisper, such a look on his face as if in on a joke.

The four ate to a blue sky.

Remus held a cutlet of chicken at his mouth from his lunchbox.

Staring gloomily to him he finally surrendered to the manic grin on his friend's face.

Danny came out of basketball practice sore and limbs stony from the strain.

Sunset blazed in yellow and pink, the sun a darkly burning fireball.

Vlad within the car, and waving him on.

"Feeling a bit more like yourself? Little Badger."

He nodded. "Much better, just... so, tired."

And he closed his eyes, a serene smile while he slept.