Not Prince Charming (Completed)

5 - pain

“All these things made me who I am”
~AWOL (I am)

Two days later

“Hey” Hadid waved at me on Skype and I waved back.

My cheeks were hurting from much smiling, but I couldn’t help it, I haven’t seen my best friend in two days and yes he’s been calling and I know getting to meet him in person is actually better, but seeing him in one piece was good enough to make me happy.

His hair was now black, which might not have been his decision since he’s always been red since I’ve known him. There were also a few traces of beards on his face. His eye colour was still blue, but dull and there were also red, I guess from much crying. He’s wearing a pink furry sweater, having a turtle neck.

“Hey! How are you?” I asked curiously.

“Good, good and you?” He asked.

I shrugged, “As always working, studying for the Oxford scholarship final. It’s tomorrow.” I told him.

The Oxford scholarship board was doing something different this year, and instead of picking the best like they usually use to, they were choosing to pick the best three among us all and award the scholarships according to their scores and position. I was not settling for less; I wanted to be the highest, of course, and I was dedicating my time to archiving just that.

We got the new scheme that we were to study with for the exam earlier this week and although my time at home was small; I put the best into it. I worked four out of six days this week and today I had to call and take a break in order to study and be fully prepared for tomorrow’s examination.

“You’re going to kill it,” he replied with much assurance and conviction in his voice.

My eyes narrowed at him. “How’s home?”

“It’s like always,” he flashed me a smile that we both knew wasn’t from his heart.

My heart squeezed in my chest. “Is he giving you much trouble? Your hair is now black. Did you change it because of him?”

“I don’t want to talk about him now,” he said, his expression going weak and mournful.

It hurt me that Hadid was still getting bullied and abused by his father. It felt wrong in all parts of me because it was wrong. Hadid was old enough to have his own life, old enough to make his own decision, and yet he was being shoved around by a man who despised and hated him.

“I long to see the day you finally stand up to him, punch his face, knock him out or something. You’re gonna have to or this maltreatment won’t stop.” I honestly said, as I stared at him through the screen.

He nodded and sighed in defeat. “It’s not what mom would have wanted,” he trailed off.

I signed as well, and I had to admit it wasn’t “You’re right, but she would have defended you, never let and fucking excuse of a father lay his hands on you or put you down.”

“I know,” he agreed. “How’s things been in my absence?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Great, miss you a lot,” I admitted. “Remember, I told you mom came to apologise?” When he nodded, I continued, “well since two days now she’s been coming around.”

His brow raised in suspicion. “Do you think it’s that a good thing or bad thing?”

I shrugged. “She’s been quite different. I don’t want to think it, but I do like how we are now. Like she’s never been that way with me before and now she’s striving to.”