WHEN IT ENDS || Jason McCann Fictional Story||

09.~|What A Prick!|~

Songs for this chapter:

Confident
by Justin Bieber

Fall
by Justin Bieber

Dead Weight
by PVRIS

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The car ride back to his house is silent. Despite me loving to enjoy quietness, the silence is killing me. The tension between me and him is real. I'm telling you, I can even hear my eyes blink.

I tried counting all the trees passing by the road—got bored. I tried counting the white lines separating the lanes of the road, since he was driving by a side—got bored once again. Guess why—that idiot started driving through the midsection.

And boredom gets me real deep.

I remember how I used to get rid of it at a time, walking around the house and blasting pop-rock songs through my headphones. Of course, my mother had to be out of the house for that, but nonetheless, it was still manageable in my bathroom sometimes.

And I'd be dancing around all crazy.

A lot of people probably know me as a calm, composed and collected little perfect fellow, but there are so many—too many flaws in this little fellow to even start with.

You sure got that right

Long ago, when I was sixteen—okay, so not very long ago, I guess; last year is still pretty long ago, at least long enough for things to happen and for life to take a drastic turn—okay, back to the point, a year back, when I'd be extremely pissed at my mother for yelling at me to walk slowly or stop doing it, I'd simply make my way into my bathroom, my headphones still plugged above my ears and blast whatever the fvck I wanted to.

Now, I'm not saying that she wasn't ever suspicious. In fact, she's always suspicious, even when there's basically no open window for me to do anything. I mean, I did stop giving my food to my sister around that time and tactfully managed to reduce my daily intake of staple food—don't make any face—but still, she'd call my sister with her whenever I was eating something, whether it was in front of her not giving a damn sh!t to whoever or whatever was going on around me or not.

So yeah, I may act all rough and tough outside in front of them, but those really got to me. In my irritated part. I mean, wouldn't anyone feel untrustworthy and useless and as a failure if your own family can't trust you? And to release the steam off, I danced—actually, moved around—like nothing mattered and I could bust whatever move I had—no one to judge me, no one to glare at me. No one to throw hateful comments, just me, my music and my limbs. You obviously can't dance without your limbs. Though what I did—or what I tried to do—can easily be referred to as a monkey swinging through ropes after ropes and then stopping midway every now and then when it's tired.

But hey, nobody could blame me for occasionally losing my cool. I mean, I was stuck in the house with people like my mother and my sister. What else do you expect from me—it would be a waste of time and energy if I didn't at least try to enjoy the temporary freedom I gained whenever mother went out to do groceries or some other financial work. Not even dad was there to crack his humourless jokes every once in a while. I admit, those weren't the best, but at least he would've tried to break the tensed silence around the house. And plus, him and I got along well. Way better than with my mother.