3.0 The Chronicles of Us - Choas & Clarity

Chapter twenty-three

•★ Tex ★•

Goddammit.

I had other plans for today. Better plans. I still have to pick up that special order of moss-green paint for the baby room and fix the drafty window. Okay, I could have done that yesterday, but I was distracted with the fact that the bed somehow smelled like Ellie's shampoo. I'm not ashamed to admit that it took three wanks to get rid of the hard-on it caused. My desperate mind is obviously going fucking bananas. The fact that I have basically no obligations at the moment isn't helping either.

Since Roy was expecting a kid and Axel and Joey wanted to travel for a bit, we all decided to take a few months off. Even though I had no real plans, I was looking forward to it. I imagined doing a couple movie marathons, listening to some new music and maybe—definitely—follow Ellie around at work. That would've been fun; watch her sweet ass boss people around. That shit turns me on real good.

None of that happened because my world is not the same anymore. It's a vacuum of lonely days and even lonelier nights. I can only hope my shitty strategy will change all that.

But first things first, getting through this afternoon. Why the hell did I sign myself up for this? Right ... I caved under the relentless guilt-tripping I was subjected to.

I grumble some cuss words while I park my bike in front of the run-down building. This can't be the right address. It's depressing as fuck. The sign on the door tells me I'm at the right place, though. How is this supposed to be a safe place? I leave the thought for now and head inside.

A twentysomething girl with glasses as big as her smile greets me. "Mr. Chase! I'm so glad you could make it."

I do an awkward shrug. "Yeah, well, I said I would, so here I am."

She nods, her smile unyielding. "Let me take you to your class."

The word summons nervous shudders. This is going to be an outright disaster. Why did they make me do this? I follow her through the worn halls while she points at stuff and yaps about the origin of the foundation.

I really regret picking up my phone last week. The Lucky Stars foundation only called as a courtesy to thank Ellie for her contribution, but, somehow, I got lured into a conversation about their recently founded sister branch Little Stars. Apparently, they provide all kinds of free classes to kids from poor families and rough upbringings to give them a chance to get familiar with performing arts.

I suppose the loneliness made me talkative. Big mistake, of course, because I actually agreed to fill in for one of the absent teachers.

Just my fucking luck.

"Here we are." The girl—Noreen, I think she said—gestures to an empty classroom.

Very fucking hesitant, I walk inside and observe the grim surroundings: gray walls with cracks running through it, puke-colored linoleum floor and rickety chairs. Not even the colorful Dreams Come True poster can lift the spirit of this room. The sad smiley someone drew on it doesn't really help either.

The girl's face falls when I frown at her. "This place is a shithole. How are kids supposed to learn anything here?"

She stammers a little as if she's about to cry. Fuck. "The city's grants are slim and finding benefactors is not as easy."

Fucking money

I slide my guitar bag off my shoulders and place it on the teacher's desk along with my helmet. My desk. "Right—I suppose that makes sense. So, um, do you have a worksheet or something."