Burning monarchy

4 - Simon

Simon arrived at the party just minutes after it started. He was fixed on not meeting Wilhelm. Because he was scared og what was gonna happen. He was mad a Wille, but at the same time he was not. He understood his decision, even tho it hurt deep down in his beating heart.

People from every grade was there. Even the first years danced around on the dance floor, already wasted. So Simon was accordingly not special at all.

He tried desperately to find Sara, hoping she would be there, already regretting his decision of even attending this party. He had no one except Sara he could fully trust.

Simon was getting frustrated, because he couldn't find Sara. He even asked Felice if she had seen her. But she just shook her head and danced on, with a drink in her hand.

The music were too loud, and the room were too crowded. The smell of alcohol was flying thickly in the air, making very little room for the oxygen.

Simon felt like he couldn't breathe. Like a lump slowly evolving, and getting bigger and bigger, blocked the air from entering the lungs. Making his mouth feel very dry.

He ran out of the room, trying desperately to find a toilet, we're he could calm down.

And after several minutes, that felt like hours of searching, he found a small little toilet in the very end of the corridor. He quickly locked himself in there.

I'm the mirror he saw a boy. A miserable boy. He was wearing a purple hoodie, and had curly messy brown hair, that had clearly not been washed for days.

He was looking at himself. How did he end up like this? How did he let himself hurt like this? It was all a question with no answer. Because he genuinely didn't know.

The only thing he knew, was that he was tired. Tired of trying. Trying to be okay. Because he was clearly not. He hadn't slept for days, or showered for a matter of fact.

But everyday he had set up a smile on his face. Not only for Sara or his mother. But for himself too. He wanted so desperately to be okay, that he forgot to feel. And therefor, all the feelings washed in exactly now in this moment.

He wanted to cry, and scream and cry again. All at once. So he did. He cried silently in the mirror, looking at the tears slowly falling down his cheek.

It looked like rain on windows. He had always admired looking at that. He thought it was such a beautiful thing. And so did he think about those tears. They were beautiful, because they were for Wille. Every single tear he cried were for him. All the tears he should have cried for him, when he broke up. But chose to act like he didn't care. But he did it now. He cried for his one true love.

Suddenly he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. Confused to why somebody would call him know. It was in fact almost 10pm.

When he took the phone out of his pocked, he saw the name "Micke" on his phone. Shit.

Simon slowly clicked the green button on the display, and put the phone to his ear.

The first think he heard was his dad yelling directly into his left ear.

"WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE" he yelled.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE?" He yelled even higher.

Simon couldn't say anything. His plan had failed. Infact it had probably done more harm than good.

He just stood and stared at himself cry in the mirror, while his dad that he used to have to much hope for, yelled at him through the phone. He didn't have anything to say. He already knew what he had done. He had cracked his dad. He had broken his family, and his relationship.

It was all his fault. He was so stupid, thinking everything would work out in the end.

He was so worked up about getting happy, that he forgot that he is just a boy. He is just 16 after all.

He had put so much pressure on himself, and he couldn't take it anymore. He had cracked, just like his father.

He shook his hand down his bag, finding the bottles of vodka and shots. He didn't care.

He didn't care about anything. Here it was only him. In this little square of a toilet, he had no one to take care about than himself. And he was sick and tired of that.

He could do whatever he wanted. No one cared anyway.

Therefore he opened the vodka, and slowly let it slip down his throat. At first it burned all the way. And the pain was so sharp, he almost considered to not do this.

But after a while the pain went away, and it started to buzz in his head.

He felt weightless in a way. Like he could fly. Up in the clouds.

It suddenly became easier to move, and it was such a good feeling. He just danced around on the little toilet, all by himself. He wasn't happy, but he couldn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything. It was just him and his own body, moving from corner to corner in the toilet.

He didn't care. He just didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore, he could fly, he could dance, he could do whatever he wanted. And he didn't care. It was his life. No one should tell him what to do, and what not to do.

A/N
Hello guys!
I'm in the process of writing chapter 5, so I will be out soon too.
To make up for this chapter being a little late:)