Broken Doll {ManxMan}

CHAPTER 33

Back in school, in my music class, I was something that a lot of the kids called an overachiever, but it was important to note that the people who called me that were only taking the class because they needed an elective, and figured it would be easy. They conveniently ignored the part about instruments where you have to study and practice, and that it wasn't just fun and games. It wasn't a class you could just screw around in and suddenly be good at whatever you decided to pick up.

I'd been studying and playing the violin since I was old enough to hold one, so by the time I was in school and placed in the music class with a dozen or so other students, I'd already advanced far beyond what the teacher set out to teach. That made me weird to the rest of them, and while some of them admired me for it, there were others who thought I was a pushover.

Emyr was not one of those people.

He was like me, having studied a number of instruments, on the same advanced level as I was, he was the only one I could really practice my music with. One of my only friends back then, he would walk to and from school with Bay and I, sit with me at lunch, come over to spend time at my house, and on occasion I would go over to his.

It had been so long since I'd seen him, while I still thought about him sometimes, for the most part I'd forgotten a lot about our friendship and my time at school spent with him. Maybe my memories had been corrupted by my trauma, maybe I consciously chose to forget so I didn't feel as lonely. Either way there was much I'd forgotten, but one thing I could never forget was his name, and his eyes.

Admittedly he looked different, considering the last I'd seen him was nearly sixteen years ago. He was an adult now, his face had more age to it, his eyes deeper and that smile on his face a little heavier. I could tell just looking at him for a few moments that this war had changed him, but he was alive, and I was happy.

What were the odds, though? Of meeting him again? After so long?

We stayed staring at each other for all of fifteen seconds, unmoving, before anyone in the current group of six finally reacted. Unsurprisingly it was Demi who moved first, stepping over to me and pushing himself in front of me as if to act as a shield between Emyr and I. He placed a hand on my arm, physically leading me a few steps back while glaring towards him from over his shoulder.

When we were a distance away he decided was good enough, he focused his full attention back to me, an uncomfortable expression on his face, "Are you okay?"

Again I felt something touch my heart at his concern, concern I still felt I didn't deserve, nodding my head, "I'm fine," I assured him honestly, because I really was okay, before glancing to the side when Dakota stepped up to us, pointing over at the black haired Welshman.

"You know him?"

"Aled Emyr," I introduced, looking back over as Emyr reacted to his name, meeting my eye, "We went to school together, studied music in the same class, walked to and from school, things like that."

"Right, okay, when's the last time you went to school?" Dakota asked, and I turned to stare at him with a blank expression before looking down.

"I... think I was twelve or thirteen? I can't really remember."

"So it's been like a million years since you've seen the guy," Dakota assessed, and I gave him a dumbfounded look.

"Just how old do you think I am?"

"Wait, does this mean we're not fighting?" I turned again to see the man with tattoos had spoken, much louder than he had before, loud enough that I could easily hear the heavy accent he spoke in.

It seemed all three of them were from the United Kingdom, which was intriguing on its own, without Emyr being there. A Welshman from my hometown travelling with a Scot decorated in tattoos and a Brit with broken glasses? It was curious and made me wonder how they met, but I shook my head to keep myself from overthinking things, as I tended to do.