Falling (BoyxBoy) (Hiatus)

2. Déjà vu

Chapter 2

This chapter is dedicated to 

Varzanic    Just because your background is so cool.  And that I love your stories.

   Déjàvu

Déjà Vu

The sun leaked through the big glass window, the rays landing straight in my eyes. I guess I drifted back to sleep while writing.

I stretch my body, yawning, relaxing my tight muscles.

Time to face another day. It's amazing how painful that notion could be. Just going through one day.  For me at least.

Getting up, I throw the blanket back on the bed and shrug out of my boxers. I glance at my reflection in the full length mirror in front of the bathroom door. I couldn't help but frown.

Because of this scrawny and underdeveloped body, I have been the target of multiple jackass bullies. It's like I have an actual target painted on my forehead, and a convenient little note on the side that says: "Hear ye, hear ye, all bullies a mile radius away! This is a public punching bag! There is no out of pocket fee! Come all, come now." Jeez, I'm hopeless.

Tearing my eyes away from the mirror with a sigh, I open the door and walk into the bathroom.

Stepping under the hot water instantly calmed my nerves. I ran my hands through my dark hair, reveling in the feel of it.

Ten minutes later, I step out of the shower wrapping a towel around my waist. I walked to the closet filled with clothes Julian bought for me a few days ago. None of them were really my style, mostly just because they were too bright. I'm a pretty emo guy (meaning I like wearing black clothes and listen to alternative rock music, not that I want to cut myself or anything. That I would never do).

I promised my mom, when I was 7, that no matter how bad things get I will never kill myself. My real mom. That was the last thing she made me promise before dying right in front of me. She was killed. My memory from that time is very foggy. Mind you, I was only seven.

The only trauma I'd ever gone through before that day was making sure all my toys got enough attention from me, and of course annoying my mom for no damn reason. We were always really close. It had always been the two of us against the world. We never talked about my father, and frankly I didn't mind one bit.

I didn't see the guy's face. Or maybe I just don't want to remember. However, I do recall one thing. The cross. It was a simple dark cross with a rosary of the same color wrapped around it. It stretched across his forearm. I will never forget it.

And what he said to me before he left, “I did a righteous dead killing this evil woman. So I won’t kill you. For now. Don't worry little one, one day I will come for you too. Wait for me."

I don't see how he could possibly find me, since I've moved all over this country. I'm sure nobody's been keeping track of any of it for a while. Not even me. There's no point in it. If I keep storing useless information, my head will rot. But I have to admit it still sends chills down my spine every time I think about it.

I found some dark skinny jean and a pair of black vans with navy colored shoe lasses. I debated if it was better to wear a navy color shirt to match the laces, but I decided against it and just went with a plain black T-shirt instead.

After my dressing show, I picked up my school bag that was resting beside the studying table. The night before, I stuffed it with all the things I would need. Holding it at arm’s length in one of my hands, I stepped out into the corridor as quietly as possible, as to not wake anyone.