❝Promise to see the stars with me?❞
❝I promise.❞
• • •
AMAIRA never truly has indulged herself into fantasies that has been written upon books of how the characters live their own stories - she lives i...
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DAY ONE FRI – 10/27
AFTER PRACTICE, I DECIDED that I would first head to the bookstore then head on over to Martial 141 for my first day of practice. Everyone else decided to head home and rest before their first day also. I had taken a shower and wore a large black hoodie, with a white shirt underneath, sticking out under my hoodie edges with baggy, black cargo pants, and white Air Force sneakers to match my white shirt underneath.
As I waved "bye" to one of my teachers, I push the school entrance door open and walk down the stairs that lead away from the school's huge ass campus.
Ever since the day Gray, Jae, and I went over to the martial arts place, the three of us agreed that it indeed looked like a good place to go. After a whole lot of arguing and frowns, I managed to get my parents to agree to pay for the first term. They didn't approve of it—not that they would ever in the first place—and simply gave a dismantled grunt before reluctantly giving me the money.
They were too busy coddling my older brother, Kaito, to care or even notice me anyway. I didn't enjoy conversing with my parents nor my brother—he was too stuck up for a fact, and my parents fond over him like a piece of antique ready to break any moment.
They couldn't give a shit about me—they never did anyways. They only cared about my progress whenever I did bad for a test or not as well as Kaito. Their disappointed frowns and accusing glares as if it was the end of the world that I didn't do well for a marking period.
But I'm not Kaito so how could I be so perfect exactly like him? Nothing comes as naturally to me as it does to him. He's a near-like prodigy. I'm nothing like him. I'm just Archer.
My parents will never see that.
He goes to Harvard, studying Engineering and Mathematics, hoping to earn a bachelors and degree for both majors. My parents think he's a prodigy while I'm just an average failure. I'm simply second to him, and I always will be. Nothing that I'll ever do will ever make my parents smile at me with pride, something I have longed for so long, but now is simply a star distance away—in hopes of never coming any closer.
I angrily pull my phone out and shove my AirPods into my ear, tuning the noises around me out. As I walk down the sidewalk, I try to drown my anger with music. Just thinking about how things are at home pisses me off.
I'm better off not being there in general. They wouldn't notice anyway.
I close my eyes and clench my hand into fists, then allow the music to relax my muscles and soothe my anger. I swallow thickly, feeling the pressure build onto my throat creating a lump. As much as it annoyed me, I won't allow something like that ruin my day. I refuse. If they're going to ignore my existence then I'll just make sure I'm known out here where people know me. They laugh as they call my name, they high-five me when I do something good, encourage me when I'm struggling to keep up, comfort me when I'm upset—nothing that I've felt at home.
