Crimson hatred (davekat davejohn rosemary johnkat)

first day

==> be thirteen again

 --- ------

  You couldn't help but feel uneasy as you snaked down the hall, trying to avoid the wings oF your shades getting clipped. They were the ones Bro (the king of irony himself) had given you back in the day, and you would never even leave your room without them, but not because you were hot shit with them on. Bro always complimented you on them even though he's the one that ordered them for you. (They’re too ridiculous to be found in stores) He told you they would keep you safe; safe behind the darkened glass so no one could see your eyes. You hated them, you spending hours having stared at them in the bathroom mirror, your hands clutching the edge of the veneer sink. Your red irises; like flames burning, looking for an answer in the bloody shade of red. The sting you felt from them never ended.

It was back in elementary school when you were faced with the paralyzing reality on how different you were than the human bodies around you. The only reason you were allowed to wear the shades was because your Bro convinced the school you had a serious eye condition. Too much light makes them sting, he said. And that was in fact true. You didn't see why at first it was a big deal that you wore them, They didn’t hurt that bad. But on the first day, sitting at circle time around the teacher for story time with your six year old classmates, you noticed how white your hair was compared to theirs. You noticed how their arms weren’t usually as pale as your skinny and frail ones, freckles at random places like flicked ink on your skin; constellations from your wrists all the way up to your shoulders in a connect-the-dots mess.

And not one of them had eyes like you.

None of them had that crimson color you had, no one had the ring of red around their pupils, and it hurt to take it in. You felt like a deer in the headlights, but instead of just one car, there was enough for every kid in the room, surrounding you with the glaring fluorescent beams from their vehicles. Engines roaring, their laughter haunting you and rattling inside your skull as the girl at recess ripped the protection right off your face, giggling as she tried to run away with them, taunting you, the look on her face hurting your insides; feeling like all your organs were being rearranged. All you could get your body to do was stand there in shock, eyes unwillingly exposed.

 The girl with the ratty braids and pink frames stopped mid-skip as soon as she saw. Her expression was astounding, as if your eyes were bullet wounds instead, and-

You remember Bro coming to pick you up from school that day, you sniffling, fighting back the tears because you did not want to cry in front of him. You had scrapes on your knees that were still tender to the touch, your palms red from falling on the blacktop of the playground, the first layer of skin torn up. He picked you up off your feet, your head resting on his shoulder as he gave you a little squeeze.

"You made it lil' sis"

You felt yourself overflow when he said that, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him, closing your eyes tight, shades sliding up onto your forehead as you pressed your face harder into his white polo. He felt your little body shake in his bear-like arms, and he chuckled.

He patted your back, then set you down, taking your little hand in his own as you walked with him out of the school, you secretly wiping the tears from behind your shades, hoping he wouldn't notice, looking the other way as you did it. You had to be tough. You wanted to be tough.

Just like bro.

 --------

  He had to go to this school, right? You mean- god he lived so close, of course he did. You wonder what he looks like. He had only given little details about himself, like the color of his hair and his height. You juggled thoughts in your head as you rip the neatly folded schedule from your pocket, opening it up. The paper was a light green and badly creased from the night before, you sitting in bed with it, unfolding it then refolding it, your nerves taking over as you chewed hard on your bottom lip.

You hold the paper up close to your face to read, and also to hide from the looks people shot your way. The amount of kids in the fucking school made you even tenser, at least double the students from your old one. Jesus-

The last thing you remember from that moment was you tumbling backwards because you hit something solid. You tried to catch yourself--and the binder plus notebooks you were carrying-- but it was too late for that. Your arms went flying forward to grab something to hold onto as you fell, but all you could do was grope the air. It took a moment to recover, you landing with a hard thud on the dirty snow-soaked tile floor. The white powder fell from your jacket all over your surroundings as you start scrambling to get up.

“Shite-“

"God I'm so sorry I didn't mean to-"

When you look up, a boy is shooting the same timid face right back at you, his expression was a mix of worry and confusion, but that's all you could pull yourself to read in his body language.

His eyes- god- they were the deepest of blues you've ever seen. They reminded you of that crystal-like oasis on the labels of plastic water bottles. His thick square glasses rested on his nose bridge, him having to push them up on his face slightly as he looked down at you.

"Gosh I'm sorry, are you hurt?" He knelt down quickly, helping you gather your stuff. It took you a moment for you to gather your thoughts, trying to get your hands to be cooperative with you as you reached for your notebooks, getting on your hands and knees, trying not to make eye contact.

You glanced at him, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw he was raising an eyebrow at you. You felt your nerves try to get comfortable in your insides, you hearing him breath out a little laugh as he got the rest of your supplies, handing it to you, you hesitating to take it. The papers were a little damp, him making sure to be a little careful with them. Your hands were slippery with sweat, making you have to grip the books with both of them so they wouldn't fall to the floor again. You had to say something. The guy took his sweet time to help you out. You swallowed the desert on your tongue, lips parting to speak. You wanted to keep your cool, but oh god.

"Thanks-" You croaked, wanting to go smash your head into the side of the eggshell-white hallway. He smiled at you, getting up, and then offering his hand to you. "It's all good here." You let him pull you up, you staggering as he smiled brightly at you, showing a little bit of his buckteeth. He was quite skinny, nearly as bony as you, but his skin was at least a good shade darker. It wasn't much of a surprise to you even though you lived in Texas your whole life up until this point. You were burned to a crisp more often than tan most of the time.

"I'm John." He made a dorky grin. "Egbert" He added.

"Elizabeth" You felt like it sounded like a squawk.

"Well, it's a joy to meet you, but I better get going." He did a little wave, and then strode on down the hall.

You stood still until you could no longer see him, John gone as fast as he came.

It was him.

You just got here

And he had to be the first fucking person you had to meet.

You felt your hands shaking as you felt this mental smack hit you hard. You didn't realize how hard this really was going to be until now. You never anticipated him like this; meeting him like this; seeing him like this. It was too much, the overwhelming  pressure on your body felt like your knees were like magnets attracted to the core of the Earth. All you could do was stand there.

And watch him walk away until he just a spec; like a raindrop falling into a puddle.

You never wanted to see him again

Yet you just met him.

-

You remember that day walking into class (2 minutes late) and having to hand the teacher your slip, fidgeting, as he looked it over. He was standing in front of the class, about to give a lesson. His classroom was painted a pastel blue that was easy on the eyes, posters plastered on every free corner. Your slightly damp sneakers squeaked under the white tile, it matching the kind in the hallways. The teacher smiled at you through his circle glasses, leading you to an empty seat and-

Oh god.

"Well hello"