Two

"You’re the reader and I’m the character; you’re reality and I’m fantasy; you’re fire and I’m water; we are two basic elements that are always at odds with each other." A romance story like no other.

(two)

The sun is down and the stars are out. I’m not saying I hate falling asleep, because I don’t, but I prefer being awake. The reason being, when you’re sleeping, you are not aware of yourself or your surroundings. You could wake up and be in a completely different room, or you could wake up and be in the street; that scares me, I’m not going to lie.
     

When I was a kid, I used to love sleeping merely because of the same reason; you are not aware of yourself or your surroundings. This is because for that time, I wasn’t me. I wasn’t the kid who spent most of their day with their nose in a book. I could be anything I wanted; I could run as fast as I wanted; I could fly as high I as wanted; I could be as happy as I wanted. That’s all that mattered to me. Because for those couple of hours, I wasn’t teased, punched, kicked, laughed at; but then I wake up and I was all those things again.

You see, I just wanted to spend my time in the library at school; I didn’t have time for friends, not when a new adventure in a new book waited for me. But as time went by, every class mate was given the chance you gave me; and I was left alone, still reading a classic and still getting bullied.
      

The reason I preferred a book to a friend was mainly because I was safe then. Nobody teased me or laughed at me or even made me feel like an utter idiot in a book. A character in a story is forever, you can always pick them up again and unlike a friend they’re always the same. So like I said, most of my school days were spent with my nose in a book or sitting on a bench eating my jam sandwiches. Was I lonely? At the time I didn’t think I was. I told myself that I had books and that was all that counted. But when I look back, I realize I was just as lonely as one of the characters in one of those many books I was reading.
     

But the thing is even though I was alone, I could do anything. Any adventure was written in a story.  You think it, it’s probably already on paper. That’s the real reason I loved to read, because even though for that moment I wasn’t myself, I could do the wildest things or the most amazing adventures because it was already written down. Sleep and books are kind of alike, apart from one of them you’re living and aware and the other you’re not.
     

“You probably think I’m a loser now. I was. I’m not denying it, I wasn’t popular or good looking or anything; I was just the kid who never had a friend. But even though they said that, I had more friends than they did. But the difference was, theirs were real and mine, well they were just fiction.” I sigh, before making myself some tea.
     

“Secondary school, that was a lot different. I made a new name for myself; I went from the loner to the joker. To be honest, I don’t know when I was more alone. When I was the kid with no friends, I had books and characters and when I was the joker I had laughs. That’s all. So I think secondary school was me trying to fit in for a change, to be someone I knew I wasn’t. I tried so hard to be like them, to finally have a friend, but nothing worked, so eventually I went back to being a loner. I only talked when I was asked and the only time I made a joke, was under my breath. Once again, I lived in the shadows of Secondary school, like most people though.” I swirl the sugar around the boiling water, before tapping the spoon on the side of the mug, I put it in the sink.
     

“I made remarks at teachers, I spray painted the hallways and I put stink-bombs in the staff toilets. I did everything I could think of, yet it wasn’t good enough. Friends shouldn’t have to be worked for, they should come to you naturally, and that’s why books are better friends. That’s why I’m spilling my life story to you, because you’re the first and possibly the last person to ever come to me without hard work.” I take a sip before sitting on the armchair, placing the cup on the side; I turn the T.V on and watch the corny soap that’s playing, (Spoiler- seems that the bald guy with ginger eyebrows just shot his daughter).
     

“I lied when I said books are only what counts; it’s people. Whether they hate you or love you, they are the most important things in life. No book, no character, no author could ever give me as much joy as you did when you gave me a chance. I’m very grateful for that. I’m no longer the lonely kid who’d hear other parents whisper to their kids: ‘be kind to them, they have no friends’. I was no longer as lonely as a character in another book, but then I’m not popular. I just live on a page, that’s not lonely; I’m not living the adventures I read about, I’m something far worse than being alone, I just exist.”

            *         

I roll over in bed, my dream already slipping away from my mind; it was a good one as well, what a shame. I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling, occasionally throwing you a glance.
      

“It’s really weird when you close the book. It goes dark and not ‘oh, I shut my eyes’ dark, it’s too black to see anything. Almost like it’s slowly suffocating me, but it never gets there because you open up the book again.”
     

I shift my weight and sit up, throwing a glance at the typewriter in the corner. Still nothing comes to my mind.
    

“Sometimes, I wish I could go back in time and steal other author’s ideas. Maybe I could be the writer of a boy wizard or a wardrobe that could take you to another place. I wish I came up with them; maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to someone who I don’t even know their name, in a rundown, old flat.”
    

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Here I was, Hayden Jones, age nineteen; yet I look like a twelve year old. With my brown hair and matching eyes, high cheek-bones that come with dimples whenever I smile and a scar just above my left eyebrow from when I was dared to jump out of my brother’s toy car, not doing anything extraordinary and utterly amazing with the life I’m blessed with.
     

My bare feet touch the floor and I walk into the kitchen, I open the cupboard above the cooker and pull out a china bowl. I then head away and grab a box of ‘Golden Balls’ cereal, I pour it into the bowl, before grabbing the milk from the fridge and coating the food in it. I pick up a spoon from the drawer then I start to eat. Flopping down onto the armchair, I turn the T.V on and watch the news, still eating the cereal, occasionally glancing at the clock, working out how much time I have till my next shift. We don’t talk to each other until I’m finished with my breakfast; I put the bowl into the sink, before I jump into the shower (which will forever be awkward), slip on some clean clothes and then flop back onto the armchair.
      

“Are you ready to talk to me about yourself yet?” I ask, before the phone rings.
    

I frown and run to the little table where it sits. I answer and I’m greeted with my mother’s voice; she asks me when I’m coming home.
     

“Mum, how many times have I told you this, I’m staying in London, plus you don’t want me around Lily, Joey and Tom. I know you don’t approve, but I’m content where I am at the moment; I think maybe I might start writing again.”
     

She starts to ask me if have a job, but then stops; she repeats what I just said about writing, suddenly, it’s Billy on the phone. He tells me the same thing he’s told me ever since I’ve known him; being an author isn’t practical. It won’t get me far in life, only a ticket to living rough.
     

I laugh. “I know, I’ve heard it all before; from you, from my teachers, from my councillors. I know, but I believe in myself, which I haven’t said before. Even if I don’t get my dream, I’m in London! I’m sure if I can’t do this one, I can achieve another one. I can do this; I’ve given myself a chance but when will you and mum give me one?”
     

He passes the phone back to mum and she says she’s proud of me, whether I’m employed or unemployed. She then says she’ll have me back on whatever terms I choose and I believe her.
     

I hear Lily begging Mum to let them talk to me, she sighs and hands over the phone.
     

“Hi, Lil’ sis!” I laugh, she says hello back.
     

“Lily, how’s school going?” She laughs before saying that she hates it, but loves meeting her friends. I check the clock and see it’s almost twelve.
     

“Can you pass me back to mum please? Sorry Lil, to cut the talk short, but I really have to get going, need to say bye to her.” They hand the phone over.
     

“Hi mum, well; I know you were going to ask if I have a job yet-” she tries to fight back. “And I just want to tell you, I do; I work in a library, it may not be an author but being here is closer than working in a fast food restaurant I guess. Anyway, I better go; my shift is at half past twelve, so I should head off now.” I can tell she’s smiling as she bids me farewell. “Bye, mum. Love you!” She tells me she loves me too before I hang up.
     

I slip on a pair of old shoes, (some sort of trainers I suspect,) that I found at the end of my bed. I grab my keys and phone before leaving the flat. I run down the streets until I reach my work place. I enter and the picture of books scattered everywhere comes into my eyes. I smile.
     

“This is close enough.”



I hand the book to the thirteen year old and say goodbye, they walk away and that’s when I see them. Alex Garden. The kid who made most of my life hell in both schools I went to. They walk over to me, not actually recognizing who I am.
     

“I was wondering if you had any books for medical purposes. You see, I’m training to be a paramedic, and I need to revise.” They smirk, like they’re showing off, (wait- of course they are, this is Alex Garden we’re talking about).
     

“There are probably some by the non-fiction area, most likely to be in the medical section. I can show you where they are, if you wish?” Alex shakes their head.
     

“I’m alright, but thank you for offering-” They search for my name tag and find it, a smile spreads across their face and they put their grubby little hands on the desk that I stand behind. “Well, look who it is. Hayden Jones. You surely have grown up, haven’t you, for the good or for the bad, I really can’t tell. I almost didn’t recognize you at first, maybe it is a good thing then.” They laugh. I hate their laugh.
     

“Hi, Alex. Still being an arse, I see?”
     

Their face straightens and they look at me in the eyes. “I wouldn’t call it being an arse, it’s called telling the truth.” They smile. I hate their smile.
     

“That’s what they all say.” I reply.
     

“So, how is it going?” Alex looks me up and down. “Stupid question, you’re working in a library.”
     

I roll my eyes before looking up at you, Alex catches my glance and looks up to.
     

“Well, who is this sweet, sweet person?” they ask, twisting their body round to face you, they replace their hands with their elbow as they stare up.
     

“They’re with me.” I butt in, Alex turns and laughs.
     

“You can’t be serious?” They throw glances between us, until their eyes stop at me.
     

“If you’re with them, you can prove it. What’s their name?” Alex asks.
     

“Um- I don’t actually know.” I stutter and they laugh.
     

“See, you were lying, Hayden. After all, you couldn’t ever score someone like them.” Alex throws a glance at you.
     

“Hey, just because I don’t know their name doesn’t mean they are not with me! And just because I was the little lonely kid in both primary school and secondary school, doesn’t mean I am anymore. As a matter of fact, I do know them, well actually it’s more like they know me. They gave me a chance, the chance you and your stuck up friends never gave me.  So, before I chuck you out, I think you should leave.” I say, before pressing my palms onto the desk and leaning in.
     

“Why should I? This is a public place in case you had forgotten.” They smirk and I lean back.
     

“I hadn’t, but no one here wants you. Not me, not them.” I glance at you. “No one.”
     

Alex’s jaw tightens. “You can’t hide behind the ‘I was bullied in school’ act anymore, you’re as much as to blame in all of this as I am. You still have the anger in you, it boils inside your body and eventually, it’s going to spill and I’m going to make sure I’m not burnt. So, you can pretend to be the kid who is lonely, but we both know you’re not the victim anymore.”
     

“As I said, I think you should leave.” I take my hands off the desk and fold them.
     

“I’m going, don’t worry.” Alex whispers, before turning and walking away.
    

I sigh and turn round, pressing my back into the desk. I put my face in my hands and slowly drag them down. Alex was right, I only remember me being alone, and I don’t remember when I was angry. When I’d snap and go to rock  bottom. I forgot those moments because I knew that if I did, I’d go back to that place. The place that made me burn with rage one moment, then the next full of joy. I forgot those moments merely because I didn’t want to remember such horrid times in my life. There was this one time that when I hit rock bottom, it wasn’t just because of my anger, but because of someone else, I shut off completely that time, I didn’t bother climbing out because I knew I’d just fall back down, so I started to rebuild my life there.  Eventually I was at a place where I could leave and I knew I wouldn’t go back down, so I did and here I am now, working in a library watching people go in and out of this place, not actually realizing that we all are in the same game, just different levels. I let my hands fall and take a look at the clock, it’s time for my break.
     

I take my name tag off the clip and open the desk drawer, I chuck it into there and grab my things, before taking them and leaving. I almost run out of the Library and back to my flat. I fumble with the keys, my hands shaking before it finally goes in and I unlock the door. I barge into the flat, slamming the door behind me. Falling against it, I chuck my keys towards my typewriter. I scream, not caring that you’re watching. Here was the real me, the anger, the sadness the loneliness. It was all spilling out. Here was the real me; far from perfect and even in my own little way, I still wasn’t flawless.
     

“I wouldn’t blame you for taking the chance you gave me and giving it to someone else. I’m not the usual person in a book, I come with so much baggage that even I can’t carry it all. So, please; this is a moment that I won’t blame you for leaving me. I would if I was the reader, so please, don’t think I’ll be offended if you want to forget about me and you want me to forget about you because I understand, no one wants a messed up character.”
     

I look up at you and for a moment, I think you’re going to do just that, but then I see a light in your eyes and I know.
     

I know that you’re not going anywhere.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading, yours truly, Oswin xoxo

Reviews

[Hatchling]

Awesome write.

[Oswin]

thank you, I update every monday(: xoxo