Paracosmic Kalopsia

The Red Touch

Clyde regretted coming to school that day. The whispers were everywhere, following him wherever he went. It was a miracle that people recognized him under the huge hoodie he was wearing, with the hood up and the sleeves reaching far past his fingertips. The black hoodie was what his mother had bought him, not knowing his size and purchasing one she deemed perfect. But then again, it wouldn't be that hard to recognize him; the hoodie has YSL written in bold white letters, screaming for everyone to know that it was expensive, and therefore belonged to him. 

Clyde didn't know if it was his imagination, but people who he deemed as friends- the jocks- shrank away from him, avoided him or turned and walked the other way whenever they made eye-contact. It hurt him, cutting a deep gash in his chest, worse than the ones he'd crafted on his wrists. That gash took his breath away for a moment, and he became overwhelmed by the sensation of people staring at him. He turned, realizing that every single eye in the hallway was trained on him, guarded looks etched upon familiar faces and wary ones upon those unknown to him.

Clyde berated himself for not having done it better; he wouldn't have to see those judgmental faces if he'd succeeded. He was such a failure; couldn't even do one thing right. He hated himself more than the looks he was receiving, feeling a hollowness settle in his bones. He felt alone and empty, the shell of a human being. He wanted nothing to do with the world and its critical superficiality. It was what had caught him in the jaws of the darkness. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball in his bedroom, shut off from the world. 

But that wouldn't be good. The thoughts came in when he was alone. They were still there, even when he wasn't alone. There was nothing he could do about it; he was clutching onto a weed at the edge of a cliff, his whole body dangling off with the weed being the only thing tethering him to the world. He'd tried to coming back to school earlier, but had put off leaving the house as long as possible. His feet felt ready to shatter as soon as they touched the carpeted floor and he'd sat back down, refusing to budge for the next three days. He couldn't gather enough willpower to even eat, and nobody cared enough to come and feed him. He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling for hours, letting the dull ache in his bones overtake him. It wasn't until Logan, his friend, had come by that he had forced water down his dry throat, but had immediately vomited it back up. 

Clyde was broken. A china glass that everybody once wanted to collect, but which had now broken and was abandoned. It was better before, when he had enough energy to wear the mask, but now everything was gone. Even talking to his quietest friend, Noah, was exhausting. He was too lethargic to even smile at Carter, his goofball of a friend, and hated himself for making Carter frown. He hated himself for making them so stressed about him. That was why he'd done it anyway. None of them would have to carry his burden if he was gone. They'd be happy. They wouldn't have to be stressed about him all the time. They'd go back to normal. They'd forget about him. 

"Clyde!" 
It was Logan who'd spotted him, and immediately strode towards him with the rest of his friends hot on his heels. Clyde tried to smile through his eyes, tried to show them gratitude for being there for him. The three of them immediately enveloped him in a group hug, while he stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. Once they'd stepped back, Logan and Carter began telling him about how boring school was without him and catching him up on whatever latest gossip he'd missed, carefully skirting around the topic of his attempt. Noah walked alongside him, matching Clyde's slow tread with his loping one. Noah had always been perceptive, and Clyde could feel his gaze on him, assessing his best friend carefully. 

In a desperate attempt to show Noah that he was fine, Clyde smiled but the muscles of his cheeks were too weak to do that and it ended up being a grimace. Noah understood him though and allowed a small smile to overtake his face, patting Clyde's back slightly. 

How good Clyde had become at acting. He'd even fooled Noah, the most observant and smartest person he'd met in his life. 

No that couldn't be right. Clyde was shit at acting. Noah probably just didn't care. 

All this time, Carter and Logan hadn't stopped talking, but came to an unexpected halt when a tall, slim girl was pushed in front of them. Carter barely had time to catch her before she hit the marble floor, but her bag was unlucky. It fell with a crash, and Clyde winced; it sounded as if something had just broken in there. The girls who had pushed the other girl were laughing, but stopped when they realized who was in front of them as Logan strode towards them. 

Carter set the girl upright, while Noah picked up her bag and handed it to her with a gentle upward tug of his lips. The girl smiled brightly, despite the fact that she was just pushed, and swept her curtain of strawberry blonde hair behind her ears. "Thanks." 
"All good," Carter replied. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "What's your name?"

The girl looked startled to be asked that, but recovered quickly. "I'm Fredelia Red, but please don't call me that. Oh my god, why did I tell you that if I didn't want you to know it? Sorry, I'm dumb sometimes; and I'm not even blonde! Sorry, no offence," she added, glancing over at Noah whose hair was as blond as blond came. It was more of a platinum blond, Clyde found himself thinking. 

And then, something strange happened. Clyde felt a familiar feeling bubble up in his stomach, and to his utter surprise, a chuckle escaped his chapped lips. Noah and Carter's heads snapped towards him, with huge grins plastered onto their faces. 

"Well, Red, what do you want us to call you?" Noah asked, slinging a casual arm around Clyde's broad shoulders and squeezing lightly. 

The girl thought for a while. "Actually, I like Red. It's my surname, and a part of my name." 

Logan walked back, adding in his own input, "Also, your hair's kind of red too." 

The girl- Red- nodded excitedly, "Cool! I like it!" 

Carter gestured to her hands, where she was holding her bag, "You might want to check that bag of yours, Red, I think something broke." 

Red froze. All color seemed to have drained from her cheerful face, leaving it pale and pallid. The boys looked at her in concern as she set her bag down on the ground and unzipped it with shaky hands. Clyde's view was blocked by Red's hair, but when she let out a low moan he knew that something had gone wrong. She stood up, holding broken pieces of what looked to be a clay model in her hand. It seemed an accurate depiction of Clyde's life. 

"My art project." 

Red's voice was barely above a whisper. Logan patted her back to comfort her, saying kindly, "You could put water on it and join it back together." 

Red shook her head. "No that won't fix it; I've already baked it so water won't affect it."

Her frown was deep, a pout appearing onto her lips. Clyde didn't like her being upset. 

"Superglue it," he suggested, surprising himself by how strong his voice sounded. 

Red looked up at him for the first time, her russet brown eyes lighting up at what he'd said. 

"You, sir, are a genius. I can't believe I didn't think of that! See, another dumb blonde moment," she looked over at Noah and winced, adding, "No offence intended. Again." 

Noah shook his head, a grin plastered onto his face. 

Red slung her bag on her shoulders and came forward to give Clyde a quick hug. She was considerably shorter than him, her head only reaching his collarbone as she wrapped her arms around his waist. 

Before a shocked Clyde could do anything, she let go and waved them goodbye, heading in the direction of the art rooms. 

The three boys swiveled their heads to him, then to her receding back, then back to him and waggled their eyebrows suggestively. Their faces looked odd, and the hilarity of the whole situation brought out chortles from Clyde. Somehow, Red had given Clyde some well-needed assurance that not everything in the world was black and hellish. She'd managed to give him a little hope. She'd managed to make him forget, just for the moment.

a/n hi so this is a short story in the loosest sense, since this was part of a novella i was planning to write. but as is with everything, i gave up on it and moved to different ventures and made the first chapter kind of like a one-shot thing. if i get enough motivation, i might start the novella again but idk if people would like it lol lemme know your opinions.