( ☼ - deific | posting welcome! )

[ouch!]

ＨＥＹ ＴＨＥＲＥ
do you believe in me? i don't know how. i'
m made of broken pieces and - and, i'm j
ust not sure. look, i just don't understand.
what did you see in me that day, that i've
never seen in my life?

[ouch!]

↘xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx↙
part one rain
part two the mirror
part three overture
↗xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx↖

[ouch!]

next

“You need an umbrella?”

Casey’s gum snapped, leaving a sticky, pink coating on his otherwise pearly teeth. He’d just snuck out of detention; a daily occurrence. Normally, he was alone in his endeavors, but evidently not today. There were no other after-school activities, and the kid beside him was someone he wasn’t sure he’d seen before. But, he guessed, there were a lot of people in school that he hadn’t really seen too often.

Eyes trained on the sky, he seemed pretty out of it, and since Casey didn’t recognize him, he must’ve been reserved enough to melt into a crowd. And by the look of him, he didn’t seem to care what Casey was thinking, either. Honestly, he wished he could feel the same way. He got in enough fights to prove that he cared a great deal about it, and had the marks to prove it. His face was littered with bruises, as well as what was visible of his arms and legs. The remains of a nosebleed had dried underneath his nostrils, his knuckles were in a constant state of black and blue and the rest of his skin pinked with sunburn. This other guy, though, he was the complete opposite; free of any marks or bruises, his skin was so pale and fragile in appearance he might as well have been a porcelain doll.

The kid was drenched from the rain, though they both were under the same awning. Of course, Casey knew why. Of the three consecutive years he’d spent practically each and every day in detention, he’d learned every way out there was. When it rained, the window by the baseball field was probably the worst idea, though the most obvious first choice.

“. . . No,” the other boy replied solemnly, then, eyes not leaving the clouds.

Casey raised an eyebrow.

“You have one, then? ‘Cause, dude, you’re soaked, and I’m not your Mom, but maybe you should consider, like, not getting sick?”
The kid raised a hand and examined it. It was frail, like the rest of him, Casey noted. He felt like if he breathed a little too hard in his direction, the guy would disintegrate and wash away into the rain.

No reply.

“Hey, whatever. But don’t say I didn’t offer,” Casey coughed, a little, uncomfortable, and there was a short pause before he spoke again, “. . . Look, I don’t know what’s up with you, but you should get out of here. They’ll catch you.”

Turning, the boy caught Casey’s gaze. It sent a shiver down his spine, because, woah, he’d never seen eyes like those before. They were ethereal, and he wouldn’t dare call them blue, because they defied blue. The only color even remotely close was something Casey only recalled from when his Uncle’s boat went stray in the sea – how it appeared when the sun rose just over the water, light spilling across the waves, the clouds dancing just above the bright, roaring distance.

Still, the boy remained eerily silent. Casey was just about to speak once more, when ocean-eyes launched forward in his direction, still expressionless, but fast, intimidatingly so. Ready to smash the guy’s face in, Casey raised his fists, but god, for such a glass doll of a boy, he was strong.

Then, hell if he’d admit to it, but they were kissing. When the pushed the guy away, his shoulders were shaking. He’d kissed his fair share of girls, and a few boys here and there, too, enough to know he didn’t swing in this guy’s direction. But whatever was up with the kid, it was just different. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad either. It was just flat out odd; each feeling completely unknown and new, absolutely indescribable. Not that Casey would need the words - this was a secret for life. This was something he’d never share with another soul, he had decided instantly.

“What the hell, dude?” he wiped his mouth, trying to sound more irked than he felt.

The boy just stared, still dreamy-eyed and loopy looking.

“I’m not – Jesus, I’m not gay,” Casey hissed.

Still, no words were offered in reply, but the emotionless, stern stare the other offered told him it didn’t matter.

Lightning split across the sky, splintering outward. If Casey wasn’t so caught up in the moment, he would’ve jumped, there was such a strength to the blast of light. However, it wasn’t the lightning he was looking at. Stretched out behind the boy before him were a great, vast, and absolutely ineffable pair of wings.

They thrummed with life, unlike any pair he’d ever seen. It was as if energy pulsated throughout them, to the tip of each feather, rustling them gently. So carefully arranged, there was no color he could describe; it was as if they encompassed more than just simple color, no, they were the embodiment of shadow and light, and were an entire spectrum within themselves. The glossy feathers were painted with the rain, adding to the already present glisten through each barb.

And, they were only visible for the fleeting moment the lightning flashed. Then, just like that, they were gone.

“What the . . .” Casey blinked a few times, as if it might change something. But, sure enough, nothing happened. He took a few steps back, feeling the rain pelt the back of his neck. His breathing increased in speed, becoming sharp and heavy. Something didn’t feel right, and he suddenly felt the need to escape.

Thunder cracked. Lighting quickly followed, illuminating the sky. Casey was forced to raise his arm to his eyes, wincing. It was almost unnaturally bright, as if it had struck right between the two of them. When the light cleared, ocean eyes was . . . gone. Shaking his head, Casey took a deep breath. He just needed to compose himself – there was an explanation for all of this, there had to be.

Turning, he began his long walk home, quickly growing drenched from the falling rain. He didn’t look back.

[canada]

omg ok
this is
omg
okkkkk
this is so good omg

[Petlover552]

oeh. meh. gersh.
This is so good! So mysterious :3

[taffy;]

woah dude, I really like your
writing style, this sounds super interesting!

don't mind me, I'm just gonna bookmark
this <3

[ouch!]

back next

By the time Casey reached his house, the rain had already stopped falling. The sun was dipping down over the edge of the horizon, and gnats clouded the misty, humid air.

Casey’s house was small, and though he’d heard a story of living somewhere even smaller when he was born, he firmly believed he lived in the smallest house on the planet. His parents had bought it when he just under three years old, yet they rarely frequented it. It wasn’t as if Casey had bad parents; he didn’t. His parents were kind, considerate people. They just had bills to pay, and it wasn’t like they were swimming in money. His resentment towards them had both begun and ended when he was much, much younger – he slowly grew to find that people needed money, and the sooner he had faced that, the sooner he was able to grow up. He didn’t get the reason behind saving all of that for later. He didn’t need to be angry with his parents now, so why bother with the effort? He had other people to pick fights with, after all.

His father installed water heaters for a living, at least during the day. At night, Casey was fairly sure he drove a truck, but his father never told him so, and he never asked. His mother was the private maid for a family a few neighborhoods East, and she often stayed the night there, as well. It was easier on her not to drive there all the time, considering she was attempting to get a degree in political science after her work was done for the day.

Casey unlocked the front door, pushing it open slowly. The screen door, propped up on his ankle, swung shut when he stepped inside. The house was dark and quiet. He turned the corner in the foyer, dropping his bag. His back ached, despite that he didn’t carry a lot, given he and his schoolwork didn’t frequent each other. He blamed it on the fights, but he’d never be too sure.

Rubbing his eyes, Casey wandered into the bathroom. He yawned, glancing at the mirror, which forced him to do a double-take. His face was . . . clean.

There wasn’t a single mark or bruise on his skin. His bloody nose was gone, and his lips were even unchapped. He pressed up his bangs, surprised to find the blemishes on his forehead had also disappeared.

Maybe, to anyone, this would be normal; bruises healed all the time. But, to Casey, this was different. He was in fights nearly every single day. It was odd to see him without injury, being that it practically defined who he was. So, naturally, this just wasn’t right, it wasn’t natural.

“Jesus, this . . . this isn’t . . .” he murmured, stepping back. He closed his eyes, pressing his fingers hard on his eyelids. When he finally lowered his hands, he shook his head, stars dancing in his vision for a few moments. Then, his reflection cleared again, revealing that nothing had changed; his face was still strikingly clear, as if it’d simply been wiped free of all its markings. A feeling of violation crept over him, though he dismissed it quickly.

He refused to dwell on any of it. There had to be a logical reason he just wasn’t seeing. Tomorrow, he’d go into school, and one of his friends would say something about him finally shaping up after all these years, how his bruises and marks were slowly healing and fading away. This wasn’t anything important, he told himself. There was an explanation, he just hadn’t come across it quite yet.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered under his breath absentmindedly; for some reason, he felt the need to be reassured. As if something was terribly, terribly wrong. Dismissing that thought, he forced himself into brushing his teeth, all the while carefully avoiding the mirror.

The rest of the night passed in anxious silence; the air felt tense, despite the night approaching, the quiet chirping of crickets and peaceful shade of violet creeping up into the sky. After the incident with the mirror, Casey had just figured rest would be the best idea to remedy the situation – surely, it was all just him, it was all just in his head. The cause had to be lack of sleep, or something similar. He was quick to fall into bed, the springs creaking under the force of his body hitting the mattress. Putting an arm over his eyes, he sighed.

The siren of a police car wailed in the distance. Otherwise, the night was quiet. Average. But, something still felt . . . wrong. He didn’t have much longer to consider it, though; sleep had taken him into her arms long before the sky had turned indigo, the bright streetlights blocking out the light of the stars.

He’d never tell a soul, but he dreamed of the sun setting across the ocean inside another boy’s eyes.


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note (1) thank y'all so much for your nice comments!

[Krenko]

I NEED MORE (please more?)

[ruse]

ok can i just say that this is amazing and so lovely?? i adore your writing style haha
and i'm looking forward to reading more of it tbh <<:

casey: no homo

[ouch!]

back

“You going to tie that thing up, or what?”

Casey blinked, slipping back into reality. He’d been caught up wondering who on earth he’d met the night before, and was standing beside the bicycle rack, staring dumbly at the concrete beneath his feet. He swallowed, feeling his face flush with embarrassment.

“Yeah, yeah,” Casey shrugged off the question, shaking his head and leaning down to secure his bike. The boy beside him crouched down, brows furrowed and lips twisted into a frown.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked.

“Nothing, Dylan.”

Dylan was Casey’s best and only real friend – the school’s only giraffe, he stood at six feet and seven inches, practically towering over even the tallest of adults in the building. Casey always felt miniscule beside him – he couldn’t help but wonder how Ocean Eyes would look, the tiny slip of a thing he’d been. He’d probably look like a child, standing beside –

“C’mon, man!” his friend sounded annoyed, at first, though his voice quickly melted into concern, which was unusual for the both of them. “There’s gotta be something up – tell me.”

Straightening up, Casey wiped his hands off on the sides of his jeans, turning to his friend.

“Have you seen this . . .” he raised his hands in a gesture of indecisiveness, “guy – short, dark hair, eyes like . . . y’know, uhm. The ocean, I guess.”

Dylan quirked a brow.

“You mean blue?”

No, he didn’t mean blue. Blue meant static – an average, unchanging color that fit into words like royal, Prussian, azure and phthalo. Ocean Eyes’ irises couldn’t be blue; they transcended blue, but there wasn’t a way to describe something so ineffable.

“. . . Yeah, blue.”

“I haven’t seen –” Dylan paused, then, face contorting into a look of concentration. When he continued, his voice was uncertain. “wait, you’re talking about that kid – the transfer, right?”

“I don’t know,” Casey settled with, attempting a nonchalant shrug. Since when was he so tense? ‘Casual’ was never something he was trying to be; it had always come so naturally.

“You don’t really need to,” his best friend was quick to retort, scoffing, “he’s probably some stuck up prick, if you ask me. Just stands around, never goes to class – kind of freaky.”

“Sure . . . kinda freaky,” His reply was loose and inattentive as his eyes skirted the area around them, catching when they found ocean eyes. The kid was alone, unsurprisingly, and huddled beside one of the benches in front of the school. Despite having a 'reputation' to uphold, he had questions, and damn him if he wasn’t going to get some answers.

“Look, I have to – I have something I've got to do,” Casey murmured dismissively, pressing past Dylan to head in ocean eyes’ direction.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, when he arrived there; surprise, perhaps, even happiness, but Casey could only find that same stoicism in his expression. Making sure no one was looking in their direction, he pressed closer, his voice hushed. He felt suddenly out of breath.

“We need to talk.”

Ocean eyes offered a curt nod, and without a thought, Casey took his arm, leading him away from the front of school. The shade of an inlet on the side of the school offered them sanctuary, and he was quick to drop his hand, swallowing thickly.

“What happened before – why did you do that?”

The answer came without hesitation.

“To help you.”

“Why?” That question held so much weight, and the tension between them grew. Casey wondered, vaguely, if he was only one who could feel it. Why kiss him? Why help him?

To this question, ocean eyes only offered him silence. Perhaps there wasn’t an answer – Casey didn’t know, but something inside him ached to understand. There was a sort of importance it carried, being the one to receive that, and maybe he felt like he didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t sure, but that didn’t matter. Ocean eyes was already turning, ready to make his way inside.

“Wait –” Casey called after him, “at least . . . tell me your name, damn it!”

Stopping where he stood, ocean eyes didn’t turn. His head cast downwards, his voice was so quiet, Casey could have mistaken it for the wind.

“Adriel.”


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note (1) woo, this one's a short one, sorry. thank you so much for your kind words, by the way!