Awsten began to climb the staircase that he had originally come down. Back up to the celebration, back to the cinnamon and birthday cake and too-cheerful chatter. He had been gone for an awfully long time, everybody seemed to have forgotten that Awsten even existed for the while that he was gone, until he forcefully rejoined himself to the group. "Are you okay, honey?" No. Awsten was aware that he now looked jaded. He felt it, too, exhaustion clouded his head to the point where he felt like he was levitating far off of the stable ground; and he hated heights.
"I'm okay, thank you, Rachel." He was far too unfocused to be as polite and formal as he was when he first arrived at this house with his family, earning him a forceful glare from his mother that made him laugh to himself. "I was just talking to your son, he's very nice."
He watched as Mrs. Wigington chuckled to herself. "Well, I wouldn't say 'nice' is the right word. He's very plain, but you like plain people, don't you, honey?" She's just trying to be nice. She's just trying to make conversation. But Awsten had gotten kind of annoyed at that comment, it was obvious that she didn't think very highly of her son, and she probably didn't think very highly of Awsten either; he couldn't blame her when not even he had any self-dignity.
So he smiled at her in a way that was not genuine but she didn't take the hint. He was ready to leave, he never wanted to come back to this place, even though inevitably, he would again one day. Gracie is happy. You selfish fuck, Gracie is happy.
He sighed and sat down at the small table that nobody was at anymore, everyone seemed caught up around the main kitchen bench, throwing sentences into the conversation. He didn't know what he wanted anymore. He thought that maybe the Wigington's would be perfect because their family situation was secure, they were polite and caring; certainly better than what he dealt with at his house, but he was still dissatisfied.
He refused to call his house 'home'. It wasn't home, the only place there that he felt safe in was his bedroom that he had installed two locks on, somewhere that he could isolate himself from danger. "Are you ready to go?" It was Gracie, he must have been caught up in his head for much longer than he expected, he spent most of his time wandering around in the thoughts that roamed his mind.
Nodding gratefully, he stood, words of thanks echoed around the room as Awsten lightheadedly avoided conversation and headed towards the door and pulled it open. He left with no goodbye, no thank you, which was exactly how he wanted to leave: sure that he wasn't welcome again.
He looked down into his hand realising that he was holding the car key, unaware of how it got there, Gracie probably gave it to him when he was in his headspace. Gently pushing on the button, he heard the click that signalled the latches releasing and unlocking the car, which he slid into and waited for the rest of the people he had to call family to leave the Wigington's home.
——————
The car ride was long and dragged on, his earphones firmly locked into his ears with music blaring over the angry words spilling from the mouths of his parents. "Why are you such a piece of shit?" "Awsten, can't you do anything for us, ever?" He dragged the volume bar across his phone as far as it would go, permanently damaging his hearing would mean he wouldn't have to deal with the familiar sound of anger.
The bump, bump, bump, as the vehicle rolled into the driveway filled Awsten with, surprisingly, relief. He made his way inside the dark house and ran up the stairs, quickly into his room before shutting the door, clicking the locks closed so that he felt safe once again.
And he cried.
He finally let himself break down, falling to the ground and letting the volume of the songs playing through his earphones drown out the sound of his own sobs. This wasn't another attack, as such, it was more of his feelings leaking out of his soul that had been embedded deep within himself. It was only then that he noticed the forceful shake of his door and chains on his locks, the pounding on his door too dominant to be Gracie; it was his father.
It was only now that his fingers began to shake, you coward, you fucking coward. He started to rip at his hair like a mad man, "no, no. No!" He whispered to himself in between each breath. That's when he remembered. He stood up, his knees almost buckling beneath his very light weight.
One, two, three, four, five.
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
Thirteen.
And he fell asleep on the scratchy carpet that felt like he was floating on one million clouds.
YOU ARE READING
Serendipitous (Gawsten)
Fanfiction[COMPLETED] An apathetic boy with colourblindness and too many problems serendipitously meets a boy who may be able to help him feel all of the colours he'd never seen.
