The Delivery Boy(boyxboy)

Chapter 2: Blue Eyes and Gut Feelings.

                 

Don't you think that it's boring how people talk
Making smart with their words again, well I'm bored
Because I'm doing this for the thrill of it, killin' it
Never not chasing a million things I want
And I am only as young as the minute is full of it
Getting pumped up from the little bright things I bought
But I know they'll never own me

Baby be the class clown
I'll be the beauty queen in tears
It's a new art form showing people how little we care
We're so happy, even when we're smilin' out of fear
Let's go down to the tennis court, and talk it up like yeah

-

Xavier

"Netflix and chill?" Scarlett's voice was lacy and seductive, but instead of getting turned on, I found my heart drop to my knees.

"Scarlet, babe-" I began saying something, but it seemed like my mouth could not translate things which my heart was saying; things which I couldn't say, things which I couldn't spell, things which couldn't be named because they had no names.

"I'm sorry." I knew my voice sounded guilty, but the fact which was actually the source of my guilt was something else. I was guilty, because I wasn't guilty.

I was feeling guilty, because I wasn't guilty when I was supposed to be.

"It's okay." She replied, but this time, her voice was curt and sharp. Scarlett's voice was always curt and sharp, the kind of voice that could physically injure someone; a voice which cut deeper than knives. I found myself cringing when her words pinched at my heartstrings, making it beat a little harder against my chest.

"Look, I haven't-"

"Fuck you." She spat, and I couldn't help the cringe at her venomous tone; a hiss of a deadly snake. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You've been so weird lately. Have you turned into some kind of fag?"

For a moment, I felt my heart beat in my eardrums.

"Never mind. Go fuck yourself." Her voice reminded me of a broken record; a sharp, noisy sound which caused multiple headaches, simultaneously. "Don't call me." The word 'don't' was emphasized upon, and before I could chose a reply which wouldn't get me killed, I heard the beeping sound of a phone and there was silence.

I slumped down to my bed, and looked at my ceiling, the same old white pattern I had been staring at since I was a little child. The cracks and crevices in the walls looked like secret passages to alternate universes, and I would often make patterns with my hand and imagine I was floating into a far off place; a galaxy of my own. Today, I felt like doing that. Disappearing into my own little universe, where nobody could find me.

Looking up at the ceiling, I tried to figure out what I was feeling.

After a while of pondering, which included some unpleasant flashbacks and connected constellations, I realized I didn't know what I was feeling, and perhaps that was the most frustrating feeling in itself.

"I just want to feel more alive." I found my own voice entering my ears, and the tone managed to surprise my own heart.

Then I found my brain shutting down completely, a blank space which had been contaminated by so many troubled thoughts that it chose not to think; to remain blank rather than go insane.

I looked up at the ceiling once again, and I noticed how the cracks created veins of another galaxy.

And for a moment, I wondered.