Suburbs Boy

1 - #WasteHisTime

She wasn't trying. He was rich and paying but she wasn't even trying. She tapped away on her phone, bluntly ignoring him and - even worse - the plate of salad in front of her. He could understand that she wanted to ignore him but why the salad?

"So... you like phones?" He asked, trying to make conversation.

He had bought all the seats in the most expensive restaurant he could find so they could be alone for this 'date' and she had the audacity to ignore the salad. The restaurant was located right next to the sea and the view was absolutely splendid. It was evening so the moon and stars shone on the earth, giving a beautiful aura of white and black on the water, the ripples giving it the effect of a painting. The sound of Mozarts' piano in the restaurant filled the empty space created by tension.

"Ehh." She shrugged, not even looking up to meet his eyes.

He observed her. She had straight auburn which stopped at her shoulders and blue eyes which enhanced her face. He scanned her full lips and her pointed nose. Her features enraged him.

He slammed his fist on the table.

"Could the phone not be part of this date?" His voice sounded strained and he knew she could hear it.

"Why? Nothing's coming out of this anyways." She casually stood up, slipping her phone into her purse. "I see I've over stayed my welcome. I've heard all about you, Suburbs Boy, no one ever gains anything from you. Thanks for the food. I'll be sure to post the details of this tomorrow with the hashtag ; #WasteHisTime." She walked away, forcefully swaying her hips : "Oh and my name's Mia, since you never really bothered to ask."

He sat down on the table, annoyed. He exhaled sharply and ran his fingers through his black hair. Suburbs Boy. If only they knew. He got up and went into the restrooms, standing in front of the first mirror he saw. He hated his reflection.

"What is wrong with me?" He scattered his hair, frustrated. "What makes me so messed up?" He took out his blue contacts, revealing his hazel eyes which look lifeless, completely, utterly, dead. His lips were full - but not too full and he had a chiseled chin, which he normally got complemented on - so why didn't she stay?
He brought out his comb and went through his hair, arranging it. He replaced his contacts, a bit overwhelmed by the 20/20 vision that hit him. He bent down and washed his face. He was rich, and he was handsome - he didn't need her anyways.
He punched the mirror with as much strength as his angry fists could muster, drawing blood. After staring at the shards of glass on his feet for a while, he looked back at his cracked reflection, angry at how bipolar he was being. He hated her, he hated them, he hated himself.
The white walls of the restroom suffocated him, leaving him gasping for air. He looked again at the sharp shards dispersed on the ground. He thought of what he could do with one of those shards. He should kill himself now. End it all. Destroy the Suburbs Boy.
His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his suicidal thoughts. He yanked it out of his pocket and raised it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Mackenzie, your mother wants you home." Chauffeur.

"I'll be right out." He sighed.

He slipped his phone into his pocket which drew attention to his bleeding hand. He washed his hands and then sanitised them, ignoring the stinging pain that gave him a sick sort of pleasure. Maybe that was his problem, he was sick. He walked out of the restroom sparkling clean and handed the first person he saw and assumed worked in the restaurant five $100 notes.

"For the mess I might have made in there." He smiled.

Once he got into his car, Suburbs Boy felt his insides begin to destroy. He wished that he could just disappear and leave this all behind.

"Tell Trisha to make an appointment with the best therapist you can find." He managed to choke out.

"Yes sir." His chauffeur glanced at him through the rear view mirror and immediately looked away after catching his eye.

Why was there this aura of darkness following him? He felt weighed down by the kind of dark that haunts a hundred year old house. He felt torn with doubt.
When Suburbs Boy got under the covers of his white king sized bed, he felt more afraid of the light than he was of the dark. He wrestled with his thoughts, already sure he had lost his mind. He knew he wasn't normal. He knew there was something wrong with him. He was in a deep hole which he knew he wasn't getting out of. He wished for the umpteenth time that the Suburbs Boy everyone thought he was was real. But it wasn't. And he knew it wasn't even close. The darkness enveloped him in its bosom and he felt the tears finally come.
He was having an emotional breakdown.
Just. Plain. Ridiculous.