Just The Way He's Not

THIS IS UNEDITED. YOU WILL FIND MISTAKES. CRY, DO WHATEVER YOU WANT. I'LL EDIT THEM WHEN IT'S COMPLETED.

So, hey. The name's Max. This is my first ever story on Wattpad, so bare with me. Hopefully, you'll like it. If you don't then, I can't do anything about that. Your support on this story would mean a lot, so please hit that vote button and drop me a comment. It would be interesting to hear your thoughts on this. 

What I've done, is taken a sort-of-typical-but-not-really girls plot, and put it all into a guy's perspective, with some twists and whatever. So, yeah. Stick with it, and thanks for reading!

Just The Way He's Not  by Max Brown. 

James groaned in frustration.

     Placing his black pen on the desk in front of him, he pushed the disgusting looking science workbook away, not wanting to give it another second of his attention.

     Getting up from his seat, he sighed whilst heading over to his bed where his iPod lay, still playing an old track. Picking it up, James clicked his tongue as he shuffled through his playlist in search for the song he wanted.

     Hitting play on Weightless by All Time Low, James stuck his white earphones in, allowing the volume to increase to full. Satisfied, and even mouthing along to some of the lyrics, he headed over to the door, pulled it open, and made his way down the open staircase towards the kitchen.

     Standing by the far counter was his mother, cutting up what looked like fresh vegetables on a circular wooden chopping board. She had her back to him.

     James knew not to disturb his mother whilst cooking—especially when there was a knife involved. One scare and that was it—she would have probably sliced her hand in two. Deciding to leave her be, James made his way around the island and to the fridge with his right hand in the grey pocket of his sweatpants. With his free hand, James pulled open the fridge, feeling the glass bottles of sauces and wines rattle against the door as he did.

     Grabbing a can of coke from the top shelf, James shut the door, and opened the can within seconds. Taking a right down the hall, James found the living room at the very end, where his father was sat—or sprawled out—watching a basketball game.

     Coke in one hand, James leant back, allowing his head to rest against the soft blue pillow behind his neck. Eyes closed, for the first time that long Friday, he actually felt relaxed.

     That was the trouble with James. Wherever he went, his stress followed him. It was like a never-ending trail of thoughts that just wouldn’t leave him alone. They weren’t all based around one thing, either. All of this stress he was facing, it was due to all different things. School, work, family, and the people he was meant to call his “friends”… it was all driving him crazy.

     But, what could he do? James was never the type of person to take action. He was a thinker. And then once all was thought out, that was the end of it. The boy never tried to make things better for himself. He never even attempted to come up with any solutions for his problems.

     He never tried to change anything.

     Why was that, you ask? It was just the way he was. Most if it you could call complete and utter laziness.  However, others begged to differ. They all knew that James wanted to change, and that he should have changed. But he didn’t.

     He didn’t believe in trying. James just wanted things to simply go with the flow. If things got better, they got better. And if they didn’t, they didn’t. There was nothing else to it.

     It never helped the situation. Again and again he was told by the ones who cared that things had gone on long enough, but he never listened. Besides, nobody could make him do things he didn’t want to do. Pretty simple stuff, of course. 

     However, you could also say that it wasn’t entirely his fault.

     James had no choice but to be the way he was. Even though he wanted to change his ways, he couldn’t. This was for one reason and one reason only.

     It was what they wanted.

     People had high expectations of James. It didn’t matter what he wanted, or what his thoughts were. It was expected of him to be the person he was. The person he had become was a fake. It wasn’t him at all. It was a replica of the people around him: his parents, his older brother; his family.

     There was nothing he could do about that.

     He wanted to. Boy, did he want to. But James didn’t have the heart to hurt them.

     His family were a successful one. All of them were polite, posh, and astonishingly smart beyond belief. His father, being a brain surgeon, got paid enough that he never had to work again. His mother used to be in the same industry, however retired due to health reasons.

     James’ older brother had enetered a different area of expertise, becoming a highly well known lawyer in the area.

     But James, he didn’t want any of that. No, he wanted something else. Something different.

     He wanted to be himself. The person he knew. The person within.

     Gripping his can of coke tightly with his right hand, James’ jaw clenched.

     That was it.

     He was not going to be the person he was expected to be anymore.