𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖐𝖊 | rival × rival

c h a p t e r - 1 6

Chapter - 16
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DC left the classroom after giving the kids their locker keys.

The classroom fell into silence, not that it had ever been loud. They all were silent and not the first ones to let the voice leave their soundbox.

Exel decided to leave the class immediately.

As he went to find a place to stay out of any people, he took his time to explore and carried his sketchbook with him.

He used to sketch a lot when he was bored living in the room all by himself.

At first, it started as a silly try.

He used to stare at anything for long hours, nothing going through his mind; he looked like he had unlived himself. His breath and movement never staggered when he picked the sharpened dark tip of the pencil with the randomly torn papers of his notes.

He would never start stroking the lead on the rough paper until he had set his mind on it.

And as he once looked away, he started to recreate the scene or things on the paper, what he had imprinted in his mind. Every detail or not, he would do it without thinking much, just his mind exploring random places and scenarios. Hurting him and trying to break him apart. He would carve everything on paper, which was his only medium to communicate with himself.

As the years pass.

He never got comfortable in staring at his reflection and recreating himself.

It made him restless and bothered. Why he couldn't sketch himself?

He would practice several hours staring at the mirror, trying to look at every detail of himself. But always missing something. No matter how long and hard it was. He never got comfortable making himself as portrayed.

He finds himself the hideous and scariest person ever created. From inside out. As he stared more, the more flaws and terrible ideas run inside his mind, the more frightening and ugly its get. He was scared of himself. The person who stared back scared him the most.

He clutched the sketchbook more tightly as he sat on the bench facing the forest. The sky was open, he was away from everyone. Where does not feel like anyone can hurt him.

The classes. It was more terrible than he already assumed. No matter how much he tried to not get sick of so many students present with him in the same room. He eventually felt himself getting suffocated by the jolting presence of others.

He had never been with so many people before in his life. It was not his lair.

He looked for the pencil in his pockets, but there were no pencils. Why didn't he bring a pencil with him? So frustrating.

He didn't want to go back until the next class.

What should he do?

He looked around his surroundings. No students were there. Just a bunch of trees, the sound of crickets, fog, a cold breeze and a dead bird lying down under the red maple tree.

There was a leaf crushing; someone had entered the place.

His eyes moved to the sound but he sat there immobile.

"We meet again?" Someone said.

He ignored the voice and didn't react.

And then the appearance of this guy came out of nowhere. Judging him hard he crossed his arms and walked in front of him, blocking his view of the dead bird.

"..."

Can't he just stay alone for a second here?

His hair was shimmering with soft spikes and a taunting smile - "Oh, you sure are him, hah! I thought I was imagining things."