Who are you? (ZaneChan fanfiction)

shard

Optional Mood Music #1: "Blood // Water" - grandson

We gots a lONG chapter bois

Disclaimer: don't do what zane does here its v bad and if you do, don't blame me oop. I aint getting blamed for your dumb angsty butt.

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Zane's head was still ringing with confused, angry, sad thoughts. He clutched his forehead and squeezed as if he could force his thoughts to submit out of pure strength. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work and so, suddenly suffocating and desperate for fresh air, he grabbed his keys and a jumper and left the house without bothering to tell anyone or caring. He walked, breathing slowly to calm his racing heart and trying to unpick his mind. But the more he walked and the more his heart slowed, the more his brain dulled. After a while of aimlessly dragging his feet around the neighbourhood, he found himself in front of Phoenix Drop High, his school.

Our school he thought absently.

Slowly ascending the steps up to the courtyard before the locked entrance to the building, Zane became aware of his breath, steamy in the cool evening air, and his cold nose. He couldn't even be bothered cursing himself for forgetting his mask. Pulling his jumper off and letting his arms feel the scratch of the cold, he sullenly slinked up to the glass door and placed his pale hand on the cold glass. Solid yet so breakable. He forced himself to move on, his thoughts nothing but instructions at this point.

Walk forward. Step down, step down, step down. Down towards the bleachers and the football and baseball pitches. Around the corner, onto the field. A weak resentment pricked at him for a moment when staring at the pitcher's mound and the batter's corner where his brother so often stood proud, adored and respected by all who saw him there, his skill unquestioned and unrivalled. As he turned away, something caught his eye. He wandered over with mild curiousity mulled by this itching numbness he couldn't shake. It was one of the school's baseball bats, left forgotten to lay there until it was discovered days later by a tutting, distracted teacher or an unbusy student with enough mind to put it back in the store cupboard where it was never thought of.

He picked it up.

It was rough and worn from use, beaten up from reckless treatment unlike the carefully kept and well-loved bat his older brother kept in his room when he wasn't using it. It reminded him of himself, in a way.

It was heavy in his pale, freckled hand and the weight distracted him as he subconsciously wandered back up to the school building.

Looking up, he saw himself in the reflection of a large window. He looked cold and tired. Pathetic, unlovable.

Feeling a violent surge of anger underneath the disconnected numbness, he swung.

CRACK

The glass fractured but did not buckle. The reflection of his face- mutilated with the cracks in the window- looked back at him, his expression unchanged and his eyes empty.

He swung again.

SMASH

Shards of glass flew into the building and the corridor echoed with the tinkling sound of it. He waited. He heard no alarms, no response. From anything around him. As if no one cared. He threw the bat inside and climbed in after it. Still nothing.

This school really is going to the pits huh? He thought to himself, doesn't even have a proper alarm system.

He shuffled to the next window, the bat dragging behind him, and swung. The glass flew into the courtyard he'd just climbed in from.