Ever After

Miles Apart

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This chapter is in Mark's perspective.

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Okay, I'm such an idiot - I just re-read the first two chapters of this story and discovered that I accidentally named the school both Redwood and Blackwell. (Redwood is just a name I like to use for a school.) But yes, I did intentionally name all of the staff in accommodation to the characters in Life Is Strange, and I'm so happy some of you picked up on that! The school will be called Blackwell... ugh, how could I have been so dumb? Oh, well! *Zips up bunny onesie* (So cool, right? Haha, NO.) Let's get this started! :D

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My eyes fluttered open like a hummingbird's wings, letting in only flashes of light in between breaks, flashes of light revealing my brother's grim expression, perhaps a little too close for comfort. It was only when my eyes had opened enough to let my pupils be visible that he noticed my consciousness, giving him the unspoken allowance to take a step back, giving me room to collect my thoughts (of which there were too many). How long had I been asleep? What had I missed? ... What'd happened?

"You were knocked out for ten minutes and missed nothing," my brother (Thomas) answered most of my questions, skipping over the most important one, "of course, that is, unless you count dad's screaming at that kid something."

I didn't have to make a sound for him to notice my look of grave worry, to which he gave a look of similar caution, the bag of peas nearly slipping from his hands as he urged me onward, asking for an explanation. I didn't bother going into details for fear of being interviewed (without Jack's approval on the subject) - instead, I asked just what boy had been to blame for the fight, wincing more than I had when he'd been dabbing at me with the package of peas as he began to speak.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "But the two of them have two weeks' worth of detention, so you won't have to worry about getting justice."

I didn't want justice - I wanted Jack, wanted him to be here with me, right now. I hoped he was feeling the way I pictured him, although I highly doubted he was sobbing to the principal over how badly he wanted to see me, of how terribly sorry he felt; I did have the slightest prayer, however, that he was at least distressed, disoriented, and troubled over our separation. I felt a tingling feeling arise in my heart, one that reminded me of the bond and separations between Romeo and Juliet, two families against one another - however, in this world, I couldn't quite tell who the enemies were.

I opened my mouth to begin questioning my brother, only to be interrupted by the sound of the creaking bathroom door, bringing me back to the room I was in, reminding me that no, I wasn't standing outside of the window beside Jack's desk, crying, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!" (Although I highly doubt any Shakespearean characters would do such a thing.) Instead, my fragile shell of a body was propped up against a tiled wall, feeling the grunginess and dirtiness of the washroom kiss against my bare back. I would've attempted at getting up, if only my father hadn't been the one to enter - I felt as if I had numerous questions for him, questions I didn't want to ask while forcing myself to stand.

"Mark," he said, his eyebrows to the ceiling, "are you all right?" I nodded as he kissed my cheek, his lips sweet (but nothing in comparison to Jack's) - after the impact Jack's lips had left against my skin, it was hard to not compare anyone to the feel of him - how could one stop themselves from comparing the feel of sandpaper to silk? "I don't understand how this happened - you, of all people, in a gang fight?"

Somehow, my father was more numb to the thought of me ever getting punched than I was (and he didn't even know the history Jack and I had thus far). "Come on, dad - it wasn't a gang fight," I said, struggling to keep up with my "tough" reputation I'd developed within the last few minutes. "It was an accident."