retrospective || riley hayes life's riddles fic

playpark shenanigans

tw // mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, references to suicide/death, description of self-harm, mentions of self-harm, depiction of self-harm
USE OF A HOMOPHOBIC SLUR
(this is not meant to offend anyone, and is not coming from me - it is from the character, and I myself am LGBTQ+ i do not condone the use of it, it is to establish the character is homophobic towards friend without realising friend isn't straight or homophobic himself if u get what I'm saying, ok cheers
- iris)
Riley pov
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I stared up at the clouds, completely absorbed in a world of my own. I was flying. Not literally, but I was flying. I was flying towards the sky, the clouds; they were welcoming me, they wanted me, they wanted me to join them. I use to want to join them. In case you're wondering, I haven't tried anything like I did after Aiden's funeral again. I didn't understand what was going on back then. I thought it was normal procedure, I didn't know your loved ones don't usually kill themselves after spending time with you.

I was falling. Not literally, but I was falling. I was falling back towards the ground, but I wasn't going to hit the ground. "Oi Riley!" I was snapped right out of my world. I reluctantly returned to the actual world, where I'm nowhere near the clouds. Andre was wearing one of his extremely ugly basketball jerseys, which I really wish he would burn. Like, all of them. I wish he'd burn every single one of them.

The summer had blurred by, and it was already starting to cool down again. I dragged the heels of my shoes against the tarmac, slowing the rickety-old swing I was sitting on to a stop. We'd chosen a grimy old playpark as our official meeting place - I stuck to the swings, Andre ranted in the middle and Forrest sat at the top of the slide; that's our current dynamic. We'd been going out every day, I was barely even seeing my dad most days. I'd leave before he was awake, and arrive long after he'd gone asleep.

"Andre," I greeted dully. It was always the same; I'd arrive before the other two (they always walked together), zone out on the swings, then get annoyed when they showed up. "Sooo, I assume you're excited about going back?" He's referring to school, which starts tomorrow. "Why do you say that?" He shot me a look that spoke a million words.

Forrest appeared behind him, the height difference between them even more noticeable. He skipped over to me, practically hopping onto the swing next to mine. "Hi." As it turns out, Andre wasn't exaggerating with 'out-of-school-Forrest'. He's clearly the same person, but he's certainly... different. Giddier, I suppose. "Hey Forrest."

    Me and Forrest are definitely a lot closer than me and Andre, but he's closer with Andre than me. I found out that he and Andre had been friends since they were little, which makes sense and explains their closeness.

     Forrest kicked his foot off the ground, swinging his legs up. The swing went back and forth swiftly. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was wearing dark denim jeans with (seemingly not made-on-purpose) wonky rips in them. They weren't skinny jeans, but they were quite tight-fitting nonetheless. Especially around the thigh and hip area. I realised where my eyes had wandered and immediately looked away, my face flaring red. I prayed that neither of them noticed.

I was used to hearing them saying slurs. Long used to it by now. But I know I probably wouldn't be able to stomach it if they were directed towards me. It's like Mean Girls but there are only two plastics and they're insecure-masculinity-having losers who'd probably be considered as the cliche 'popular' guys if it weren't for the fact the school only has seven students and that four of them are bullied by them. I'm the one on the inside, the one who's only pretending to be their friend, at first anyway. But I mean, it's the same with everything - the longer you pretend to be something, the sooner you've actually just become that thing. I hate them both, yet I want them to like me, I want to be like them, I act like them.

"I hope there're more new people when we go back," Andre called out from behind us. He was slouched over the bottom of the slide Forrest usually stayed by. "I think there's one," Forrest replied, going really high. He propelled himself forward very easily, probably due to his smaller size. Swings are underrated, in my mind. More people should use them, like, not kids. I never enjoyed them when I was younger, but now I understand it. Even if the thrill is small and non-threatening, there's still that gentle kick, a spark of exhilaration as you fly up towards the sky, the clouds.

I wonder what my mother was thinking, and Aiden, in their final moments sometimes. What could they have possibly been thinking about? What is there to think about? When I said I hadn't tried anything like what I did after Aiden's funeral, I was kind of lying. Well not really, I haven't necessarily tried but I've certainly thought about trying. But it's just dumb thoughts, like 'it should have been you, not him' or, 'maybe if you weren't born she wouldn't have done it'.

I felt like I was going to throw up. Aiden held out his wrist, displaying the few small, red lines gashed into it. I stared at it, my mind going completely numb. Why would he do that? Why would he show me that? Why would he show me that so soon after what my mother'd done? I felt my body begin to shake, as I slowly stepped back.

"Rileeeey." I broke out of my zone once more. "You look like you've just seen a ghost." It was Forrest talking. I got off the swing, making my way over to where Andre was. Forrest followed after me, and soon all three of us were crowded around the slide. A few younger kids were now in the park, cycling around on bikes that were way too big for them. They were yelling obnoxiously at one another, trying to show off to their friends.

I guess I'm a bit like them. I'm just in a constant loop of trying to impress Andre and Forrest, I'm in a constant loop of trying to seem cool to them. "I'm gonna go home," I decided. It was way earlier than usual, we'd usually venture out of the park, but I guess I just wasn't feeling it. "I'm tired," I added.
"Aw, Riley wants his beauty sleep," Andre teased, "you need a lot of it too." I didn't grin back at him like I usually did when he insulted me. He stared at me for a minute, before rolling his eyes. "Alright, go then," he snapped, "fag."

I pushed the park gate open a little too hard. God, I hate him so much. I hate his stupid face, I hate his stupid voice, his stupid insults - but I don't, I don't hate him, or Forrest. Definitely not Forrest. He doesn't know I'm not straight, he doesn't know that his stupid little insults mean anything to me. It's normal for friends to insult each other, isn't it? Why do his affect me so much all of a sudden?

I crossed the road without looking either way, trying to cool off my sudden temper. I leaned up against a bus stop, my back against its outer wall. Breathe. One, two, three. I slid down to the ground. Okay, calm down. Why did I get so angry? Right. I started thinking. It's always down to thinking. Thinking is always to blame. I stared out into the road, watching the cars drive past, the radios up so loud that I could almost hear the whole vehicle vibrating. Sometimes I wish I could stop thinking, but I can't. I think too much, it never stops. It's a constant, desperate rush for attention. I slid my attention down to the footpath I was sitting on, staring at it mindlessly.

I can't move on. It hurts too much. It's been years, why do I still think about them? About her? About him? I let my eyes close, hoping the darkness would calm down the rest of my mind.

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i tried to make him be rlly edgy but i don't think it worked out :sob:
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