Teenage Troubles (Prequel for Teenage Baby)

Chapter 13 | Aaron

Chapter 13 | Aaron

Aaron wasn't naturally violent, but given the current circumstances, and in the nicest way possible, he wanted to get up and punch everyone present in the classroom (including Erika) right in the face.

But he wouldn't do that. Of course he wouldn't. Because Aaron Williams was commonly known as the pretty boy with a halo above his head, the nice guy who wouldn't hurt a soul. Which was true, to some extent, in some way. He was a saint until you'd look at the hatred in his heart, an angel until you'd realize he was his own monster. There was always an exception to the rule. A limitation that could be crossed over.

In front of him, the entire class of seventh graders was gathered around one girl like a pack. Apparently, she was crying because she'd been having a hard time at home and everyone wanted to support her. She'd vaguely supplied, mom had to travel and I miss her.

Oh no. How drastic. If Aaron was disrespectful, if he had zero manners, he'd put his feet up on the desk and his hands behind his head just as a signal that he didn't give two shits about it—the unnecessary attention. But he had manners, so he just sat in his place secluded from the gathering, spine slouched forwards, fist into his cheek, grey eyes lazily sweeping around the bulletin boards across the wall.

"You look... totally not annoyed."

Aaron sighed and turned his neck barely enough to glance at Erika as she headed back towards him. "Yeah. What're you doing here? Go back to her."

A curt reply but Erika understood. "What's wrong?"

"Crying kinda makes my head hurt."

Only after saying it out loud did he feel the bitter aftertaste in his mouth. He knew he sounded like his own father. But whether he liked it or not, crying did make his head hurt.

Erika looked at the short blonde who was still crying then back at Aaron. Recognized her. She raised a brow. "You're being a bit biased, aren't you?"

He was and Erika knew the story. Maybe if it was another person crying about some personal life issues, it would've just made his head hurt but he wouldn't have been half as annoyed. It was the person that bothered him.

The blonde girl crying had spitefully tugged his nerves before, back when they'd discussed adolescent dilemmas during English class, and she had decided to share her wisdom, stood in her place like some professional public-speaker born for the non-existent spotlight and said:

"Self-hate and being unconfident is just in your head. A delusion. It's easy to fix. It's a matter of believing in yourself. You guys just make it hard on yourselves for nothing."

Whilst some other ignorants had been prompted to perform a standing ovation, Aaron had wanted to stand up, clap and say: thank you for throwing at us your load of bullshit. Valuable advice. You're such a gem. Without your wisdom, I would've never become fucking confident.

It only hit him that personally because he suffered from it. She acted like she was wiser than any of them, like she knew what every pain felt like. Now, any move, any word from her, directly annoyed him.

Aaron focused on the blonde and said, "You know what can make her stop crying?" so quietly like he hadn't meant to actually voice it.

"What?"

"A cigarette to her—"

Aaron froze like he suddenly turned into a statue. When he recovered from the shock of what his own subconscious was capable of, he realized just how much his father rubbed off on him. He pressed his palms to his face and leant back, whispering incomprehensibly, "I'm so sick."