Kalon

e n a .

"I hope you see the light in every day, no matter how small, and fall in love with it even in the dark." - Midara

Bang Chan

He was drowning, all that could be heard was shouting from downstairs, the crash of glass. His Mum and Dad were fighting over something stupid again, not sure what over but there wasn't really reasoning half of the time. It would be different when he left, in about a month he would be heading away from here, to anywhere but here. 

There was a few loud bangs on his door, snapping him from thought. "Get out here and do the dishes." His mother called through the wood. Instead of arguing he simply went down the stairs and did as he was told. Taking the time to assess the damage. It was actually very little for how loud it was, just some newspapers scattered and a vase which had crumbled at the wrath of his mum. His father had left to go on a brisk stroll to calm his nerves. Or at least that's he guessed.

 After a moment he turned his attention back to the task at hand, walking over to the sink calmly before humming a soft melody. One thing he would miss when he left this place was that there was a dishwasher to do the dishes. Simply unload, then reload and clean the sink, done. Easy enough but he found himself losing track of time, lost within the mental music playing inside his brain. It wasn't till he heard the door close that he realized just how long he had been scrubbing the sink -- about a good 10 minutes.

Just when he was about to leave he heard voices speaking in a hushed tone and decided he might as well know what was up. Keeping quiet as he listened to the conversation that filled what little silence there was, he heard a sigh followed by the sound of his father, "When is it all due?" 

"Tuesday, it's due Tuesday."

"What do you mean Tuesday, we can't come up with 3,000 dollars in a day. We only have about a thousand. And that's hardly enough to even feed our three children."

"No shit Sherlock, I know what the situation is... They said they're going to turn the water off first so let's fill our empty gallons tonight, shower tomorrow. We'll figure something out."

Sighing to himself he washed his hands and trudged upstairs to his room. Searching through his drawers until he found a jar labeled Funds. He took a moment to set that on his desk before he continued his search, digging into his pockets and his wallet to see what all he had, "26 in my wallet, three in this pocket, two in that one, some change..." 

After a moment he gasped, going wide eyed before he began bounding back down the stairs to his living room to find his backpack. The backpack was black with glow in the dark writing scribbled across it from when he grew bored in school and was filled with the usual, pencils, notebooks, even a laptop of which he actually only used for his song composing needs. 

Soon after grabbing a hold of the thing, he whipped open the smallest pocket and pulled another 30 into view, "Christopher you are a genius." And with that he began running back to his room, likely sounding like a madman in the process. He had brought even his backpack along just so he could add it all up when he got there. 

Upon arrival he plopped onto his chair and pulled a notepad over before grabbing a pencil from the side of his backpack. "Okay so 26.. three, two, 30, and.. that all equals 61 and about... 1.86 in coins so that's 62 dollars and 86 cents..and then.." He scooted closer to the jar and hummed out as he struggled with the top of it. After a few minutes, and multiple swears he got the lid off, not before realizing that it was required to twist the lid and not a pull 

Instantly after he was scrambling to grab the money from his makeshift container, and his clumsy ass dropped a fifty in the process. He managed to catch the thing before it hit the ground. "You're not slick princess," he muttered towards the bill before place it into a new pile. 

It took him a while but after about 15 minutes he had every bill from the jar counted. "1,897 dollars and 37 cents. Plus what I had before... that's 1,959 and 43 cents. That's not enough." The brunette huffed and got to thinking where he could scrounge another forty from, he didn't have time to sell his things, or to wait until tomorrow to be paid.

 "That could work..." He had to force himself up before heading over to his dresser, realizing that once he gave the money he'd be stuck here. Within the birthday cards from a little over a month ago there should be some money, most of his friends and family weren't sure what he wanted when it came to his birthday so instead of running the risk of messing up they gave cash. A good idea in theory but he still preferred to get proper gifts as they meant more. 

"Okay Auntie, what do you got for me?" He spoke when he found the unopened envelope. Usually she paid in the most so he didn't wish to spend it all in one go. "A hundred? Now we're in business." 

He got a hold of a new envelope and began stuffing nearly all of the money in there keeping whatever went over the needed 2,000. So borderline 60 dollars. He marked the envelope with the amount in the top corner. He sighed to himself, it was the right thing to do but it certainly didn't feel like it.  Either way he took off down the stairs and made a sharp left when he hit the lower floor, heading down the hallway to his parents room. Once he reached it he hummed out in frustration and knocked upon the hollow door. "Mum, dad, it's Chris." He heard a grumble of the words 'come in' from his father. He did just that, attempting to walk through the door by pushing it open but instead he walked right into the wood.

"Way to go Chris," he mumbled before turning the doorknob and actually making it through the walkway. He didn't even wait for their full attention before speaking. "I've been freeloading for a long time now so, here is the rent for me staying here for 21 years." Chris handed over the envelope, "I'm not taking it back either," he rushed out, forcing it into his mother's hands and leaving before any objection could be made.

He ran off to the stairs, a painful weight forming in his chest only making him walk slower up the steps. He managed to get to his room before he started to let it fully hit him. His whole future had relied on that jar of funds for so long and now this. It smacked him with the realization that there was no future for him, not a good one, where he got to follow his wildest hopes and dreams like some child catching a butterfly.

Just when he was about to wallow in self pity he heard a faint voice coming from the wall behind his bed, "Let's only see good things, I can't say that either." Chris found himself intrigued and moved closer towards the surface. "Saying that there will only be good things from now on, saying that you won't get hurt. I can't say that, I can't lie like that." The voice that sang sounded low, slightly muffled terms of tune, but beautiful and on point with the song. He wasn't sure who sang but they were nailing 2! 3! by BTS. 

He found himself listening to the other despite the racing thoughts about his ruined future. The voice so calming that when he laid down he wound up passing out without a care.

~

1361 words; December 27th, 2018

The start of a book, tell me your thoughts.