Short Stories :P

{112} Long-Awaited Kiss | May 8-10, 2023

Italics is flashback

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TW: Swearing, fighting and injuries

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Killian hugged his knees close to his chest with his face buried in his legs.

His raven hair scattered around messily as he used everything in him to not break down completely.

Killian wasn't one to cry-- in fact, he was known to have no emotions.

But as hard as he tried, he just couldn't seem to get that day out of his head-- the event just kept repeating and repeating in his mind and not stopping, no matter how hard he tried to shut it up.

It was dark where he was, the stars and moon covered by the misty clouds. The ground was filled with dirt and sand as Killian settled on one of the small rocks, curled up in a ball, hoping that he would disappear from the world if he made himself small enough.

Killian has always found comfort in the dark. It allowed him to be invisible. He enjoyed knowing that people couldn't see him-- because that means there's no one to judge him, no one to have an opinion.

It would just be him and his thoughts in the silent night-- which is when he's most peaceful; all alone.

But all good things come to an end-- the sun will eventually rise, and people will eventually come.

That's when Eddie slowly walked up to his best friend-- trying to be as quiet as he could to not startle the boy.

Killian looked up, his eyes dull and sad, his skin pale and sickly-- bruises and cuts scattered all around his face and body.

"What are you doing here?" Killian rasped out, fidgeting with his grey pants.

"I was looking for you. I wanted us to... talk." Eddie replied, running a hand through his blonde hair.

Killian silently stared up at Eddie, not knowing how to respond. I mean-- what happened, happened, and there's nothing they could do to undo it.

I sat with Eddie in my room, playing chess.

I could hear the loud cackling of my older brother, Donovan, and his friends outside.

Our dad was out on a business trip, and well-- mom's dead.

I've always looked up to Donovan in a way. After mom died three years ago when I was eleven and he was sixteen, dad started to... hate me. Maybe it's because I looked like her, or acted like her-- but for whatever reason, he seemed to always love my brother more no matter what I do.

I was jealous of Donovan for a while, since he's always been the golden child-- the good example-- but then I just can't help but look up to him; because I just want to be him.

I never really cared about what people say or think about me, but I've always been so affected by his thoughts and approval. Which is probably why I've been so scared of my feelings recently.