HeRo (Sⓗort Stⓞrⓘⓔs)

It Can't Be Him pt. 3

.

Oh No!
♡ ♡ ♡

Under shade
Silhouettes
Casting shade
Crying rain

Can we fly?
Do I stay?
We could lose
We could fail

Either way
Options change
Chances fail
Trains derail

- 30 Minutes by T.A.T.U

• ♢ •°

I stared unblinkingly at Jean. His deep sepia eyes looked through me, and I felt my limbs freeze in place.

On his wrist was my name written in my careful script, above a beautifully designed filigree of a crescent moon. My breathing hitched, and I felt a weight settle over my shoulder, like tons of bricks. It was almost instantly I bolted out of the room.

I was no coward, not by a long shot, but this was something even I didn't want to stick around to see what would happen.

I practically threw myself down the steps, trying to control my breathing. I swallowed the bile in my throat and felt tears prick at my eyes, like needles. I hit the front door in a split second, and panicked as my hands shook, trying to unlock the door. Before I could do so, I heard Jean barreling down the steps after me, like a bat out of hell. He looked as bad as I felt, with his hair amuck, and eyes wild. He looked panicked, and when he spotted me, I tried to open the door faster, unfastened the lock with unsteady hands. Faster, he approached me, when I wrenched the door open, and practically kept out.

"Nerd!" Jean called out, and grabbed my arm, to which I felt a jolt go through my body like electrical wires being cut with scissors.

He jumped at the spark, and then I took that chance and ran as fast as I could down the next couple blocks barefoot to my house where I began pounding on the door with all my might, yelling for my mom and brother. Anyone.

The door unlocked, and I was face to face with my parents, who looked terribly scared.

"Oh my God, Michael, are you okay?" Dad asked, and I shook my head, trying to focus on breathing. My mom ushered me in, holding onto me as my dad left the room. Mom sat me on the couch, and whispered calming things in my ear.

"Julie, his inhaler."

I had my eyes closed, and my hands were covering my face as I shook. I felt my mom shift, and then she put the inhaler against my lips. I opened up and let her pump the air into my lungs, feeling my heart thump hard against my rib cage.

One of my parents rubbed my back, and I felt so much safer in my house. I began to tear up, and took another deep breath in.

× ♢ ×

"Mike?"

I heard a knock, and my head raised up from the book I was reading to the slowly opening door.

It was Will, my baby brother.

Will was eight years old, with sandy blonde hair that curled over his ears and haloed his forehead. He had these big, wide-set copper brown eyes under his arched brows. He had these big chubby cheeks, and his mouth was set into a frown.

"What is it, Will?" I asked, closing my book and sitting up on my bed.

"Uh, well, I saw you this morning," the kid said, wringing his hand on his spiderman pajamas.

I sighed and patted the space beside me on the bed, and Will willingly climbed on, soothing as close as possible to me. He pulled my blue covers over his legs and curled up next to me, staring up with glittering eyes. "I'm fine, if that's what you're wondering," I said finally.