Remembering to Forget

5

He's found them.

He caught them spraying something on their van again, and this time he's not letting them go. He doesn't know what he's going to do when he catches them, but he's sure as hell not going to let them get away.

They're fast, but practice has made Dominic faster.

Just a few more steps, before he can extend an arm outwards and grab the perpetrator's shirt...

He sits, bolt upright in his bed, sweating buckets.

Slam!

He can't stay in there. Missy stirs when the door to the van shuts louder than he'd like, but doesn't wake. With a deep, shuddering breath, he climbs to the top of the fire escape, and takes his place on the top of the building once again.

He's all too aware of the fact that it's going to keep tormenting him. That he's probably going to wake up once in a while because he's terrified that the person is going to come back. Except this time they'll come back with a gun instead of a spray can. Nobody will notice their bodies.

Nobody will care that they're gone.

It's almost funny really. That they do so much work, put in so much effort to stay alive. Who are they trying to please? Dominic, for certain, doesn't have anyone to check up on him, come to his funeral, cry at his grave, like he and Missy have done so often for their parents.

If he just disappeared, popped out of existence...

Dominic shifts his fingers in the air, almost as if he's playing an imaginary piano. One, two, three, one, two, three...

He'd never had an interest in the piano. The drums were more his style, an easier to follow rhythm and a more fun movement. He'd never been very good at asking for things, but one Christmas that was all he'd asked for. A drum set. He thought that it would be very good fun.

He didn't get the drum set. Apparently Santa didn't make them at his factory. Took him a few years to realise his parents just didn't want to deal with the noise. He couldn't exactly blame them; Missy was bad enough.

He takes a deep breath, and leans over the edge to look at the pavement below. He wonders what it would be like if he smoked. This seems like the exact sort of scenario where he'd look really cool in a tv show or something with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Like that lone wolf, 'nothing can touch me' type.

He sneezes.

Definitely not untouchable.

He's glad he isn't though. As much as he hates his general anxiety and lack of confidence, he hates the idea of arrogance a hundred times more.

He hates the idea of not being able to support Missy the way he can now, with both emotion and rationality. When she loses herself to her thoughts, he wants to be there to help. Because it's mutual.

They help each other, and are each other's rock. They rely on each other completely.

As family should.

*     *     *     *

"So!" Julianne slams her hands on Dominic's desk, causing him to jump slightly. "News just in: Alyssa isn't a bitch!"

"I never said she was."

"And apparently it's possible for you to hold a conversation without saying sorry every five seconds. Imagine that."

"Sor—" he begins. Julianne glares at him. "Ahem. Yeah, she came in and talked to me. Or to be more specific, she stalked me around the library for ten minutes before I went up to her."