Free & Flightless (Trench)

Chapter 3-Tyler

Tyler

I cringed away from Nico as he shouted at me, his red cloak and black hands that flew around the air in frustration terrifying to the anxious, uncertain small boy that was still inside me, hiding in the corner of the room or crying under the desk. I knew I had to be stronger now—I was 19 after all—but there was just something about Nico that sickened me. Though I had always been around him, and I'd become accustomed to his secretive behavior and abrupt outbursts, that didn't mean I didn't like them. And the power that seemed to radiate off of him. Though I didn't usually see his face, just his black hands, black nose, strangely inhuman white skin and red cloak covering it all, he still gave, no, radiated, this powerful sense. Like he was the strongest being to ever walk the earth, and nothing could contradict that. He had a big build, not exactly muscular, more fat than muscles. But his powers were enough to make the physically strongest man in the universe stop in his tracks. I was partly frightened because of that—but Nico also could deliver a mean punch or slap. I blamed my small and lanky build, "skin and bones" according to Sparrow, the girl next door to me; and I wished I never always took the blame even in my own mind, but I did. I saw myself as weak and unwanted in this world of dull hopelessness, were the only hope was a mere myth the people of Dema discussed in dreams of a new day. They had called them the Banditos, saying they were coming to save us, but I didn't believe it. Nico had taught me not to.
"Listen to me, boy!" Nico growled, smacking me across the face and leaving the nasty black-tar-like substance from his hand onto my cheek. I rubbed it onto my jacket nervously. I never liked when he hurt me, but him calling me boy didn't help his case either. My name was Tyler. They'd called my classified for a while, which made me scared. So they admitted I was Tyler. But it seemed Nico refused to embrace this.
"Tyler, get out of your head! Tyler!" Nico shook me with alarming strength, lifting my pathetically skinny self up and shaking me. I watched my yellow flower get knocked over and fall out of the open window. I heard a exclaim sound from below. Just like that, Nico dropped me onto the floor with a sickening thud and stormed out. I sighed of relief, regaining my composure before chewing on my lip like I always did. After I had cut my lip on the rust of a glass, I'd kept it there, even deepened it by chewing on it and letting the metallic flavor of my blood enter my tongue's taste buds every time I was the least bit upset. I licked my lip self-consciously—I'd bitten this one a lot deeper, so the blood had father to the corner of my lips and leaked down my chin—before walking down the dull stairs at a quick speed. I wanted to make sure I hadn't bitten anybody with my flower and its cup. My flower of hope—I'd always liked the color yellow.
The blood from my lip dribbled to the bottom of my chin and I watched it hit the final step of the staircase as my foot did. I went out the front doors of the building quietly, and was met by a boy standing before my shriveled flower and broken cup.
He had on a olive green colored sweatshirt with some strange yellow tape across the chest in a X, some darker colored pants, black combat boots, and a bandana over his mouth. He had had a hoodie over his hair, or so it'd appear, but the hoodie had fallen back and revealed a mop of brown curly hair that was shaved slightly on the sides but full and wonderful st the top. He had brown eyes that were dark like a tree's trunk after a heavy rain, and thick eyelashes that fluttered like a butterfly taking flight.
The next moment was a blur for me as the boy pulled me out of the direct view of anybody and into an abandoned side alleyway I'd never paid attention to. The boy pulled down the yellow bandana to reveal a stern expression splayed across his lips.
"Who are you?" He asked. He acted tough, with a strong build of muscles and strength and a fiery look in his eyes, but I couldn't help but notice his Adams Apple quivered when he spoke. Fear. It's a close relative to truth.
"T-Tyler," I stammered. The boy's eyes narrowed; he looked skeptical.
"You lying?" He said. I shook my head.
"I-I do believe I know my own name," I said sort of sheepishly. The boy smiled a thin smile, and his head seemed to realize something or click into place, because he looked at the blood trailing from my mouth. By now I've figured out Nico was also a trigger to the pretty and immense lip bleeding, but yet again I blamed my own "foolish behavior", as Nico called it.
"what happened?" The brown-eyed fiery looking boy asked me, his voice urgent.
"I-I got hurt, I'm fine," I said tiredly. I didn't want to justify things with a boy I'd never even seen before.
"You sure? Looks like it hurts," the mystery boy said with a thoughtful—perhaps sympathetic?— look in his eyes. He reached out his thumb and dragged it across my chin. His touch was warm compared to the chilly feeling of my skin, and I shivered slightly. He wiped the droplets of blood that had collected at his fingertips and wiped them on his pants dismissively.
"What are you wearing?" I asked curiously. The boy laughed slightly, which confused me. I didn't mind, it was very pretty, like..,right. A sound that felt like it should be there in the world.
"W-why are you laughing?" I stammered nervously. The boy looked at me and stopped laughing.
"I just found it funny you asked me what I was wearing, but not what my name was." The mysterious boy said with a shrug.
"I-I suppose I hadn't thought about i-it," I admitted. The mysterious and beautiful boy nodded.
"Well, since you won't ask, my name is Josh," he said with a smile. So now mystery boy had a name. I was about to comment that it was a wonderful name, but I stopped myself short. Don't be weird, Tyler, I thought to myself. It was probably too late for that now. This Josh person didn't seem to care, however—he had a purely fascinated look on his face.
"What are you to the bishops, Tyler?" Josh asked abruptly. I flinched at the word bishops—after all, they would probably punish me later—no, Nico would. That was practically guaranteed with my current actions.
"Huh?" I stared at Josh with a fake confused look. I knew what he meant, of course, I just didn't want to entertain the idea was all.
"I...I can tell you know what I'm talking about, no offense Tyler. I can hear you in their thoughts." Josh said. I stared at him, my eyes widening.
"H-how can they be in your head?" I asked, genuinely concerned. Josh shrugged in response.
"W-well, I suppose to them I'm—" I was interrupted by Josh, who pushed me against the wall in an abrupt motion and smacked his dry-yet-smooth hand over my mouth in one swift motion, shushing me softly. I did as he said, trusting him completely as voices other than our own filled the courtyard.
"he's Classified, he could be Clancy, we can't let him just leave," a deep and scratchy voice said. I looked at Josh and noticed he stiffened at the voice. I frowned against his hand, which caused him to look at me. I shook my head quickly, and he turned towards the figures in the courtyard, giving them his undivided attention.
"He knows too much, he can't leave," the other voice said.
"I've been called classified," I whispered numbly. Josh looked at me, brown eyes with golden flecks shimmering in the most intoxicating way.
"Well then, Classified, I will very gladly come back for you." Josh said. His hand disappeared from over my mouth, smearing the blood that was now drying, and I turned to look at him.
He was already gone.