"We are home!" I shouted into the entrance of my house. The sound echoed off the walls and the marble... I hated that. Devi's warmth next to me made me feel less alone though. I tried to ask her what was wrong in the car, she didn't answer me. Maybe she's getting sick of me, maybe she just sees me as lonely kid instead of 'extravagant rich kid' the act I had put on through my years of high school. Maybe she liked that version of me, not pathetic lonely boy who's own father leave him for weeks desolated. She took my hand after I had been staring into space for a while, my mind lost in the white and grey colour palette that filled my house. I can't seem to call it my home, I never have been able to. The walls were too bland, the rooms were too empty. Nothing about it felt "homey" to me. "Hey, look." I heard her voice. "They are probably just at another meeting in the Bahamas." I smiled at that, I felt my heart jump a teeny bit. "No biggie. Let's go upstairs I'm exhausted." I said back. Mainly because I wanted to get away from her. I was sad, I don't like it when people see me sad. She gave me a look of enthusiasm and then walked upstairs. I couldn't. I didn't want to go upstairs. I wanted to think. I wanted to destruct the pain I was feeling so it would be mechanical. So it wouldn't feel so strong. Pain is easier to deal with if you think "I'm experiencing pain" it goes away. If you think about it, emotions are in our head. Nothing is physically happening to us. And anyway, I read on an Instagram post that pain actually only lasts for 12 minutes. Everything else is self inflicted. I've definitely self inflicted pain then before.
I sat down on the TV and scrolled through Netflix. I settled on "will you have me?" A famous tv series that seemed to be all that people were talking about lately. It's a romance between a boy and a girl, who don't see that in the most imperfect way possible, they are the perfect match for each other. Like two pieces of a puzzle that are faulty, but happen to fit together. I wish I had something like that. As it played, the words faded into the background, and I felt my mind slip...
*flashback*
"But honey it's his 7th birthday! Come on, it's not fair. I heard my mom say, what was going on? Were they... fighting? I'd never seen them fight before. And even if they did, father would literally just buy her a Chanel bag, or a nice pair of earrings from DeBeers, and she'd forget all about it. She wasn't that hard to shop for. She liked expensive things. Money, basically. If it had a big price tag, she liked it. "I'm not going to cancel the trip. I don't care if it's his birthday, he's gonna have more of them." Were they talking about my birthday? Dad promised me... he promised me he would be here for this one. "Please honey don't be like that. He's your son." At that, the room went slightly quiet, a pause full of tension awoke. "It's more important. I'm sorry." I heard him walk away, and my mother sighed.
*end of flashback*A tear dropped on my hand. It had always been like this hadn't it? It was never going to change. They were always going to leave, never going to be there for me. They aren't parents anymore. Parents spend time with their children, parents make memories with their children. You know what memories I have of my mother? When I was 9 I gave her a drawing of her, I was really proud. She told me that it was an insult to her looks and that it was silly. Her words were "I can get a painter any day honey, don't waste your time." I remember going to my room and crying my eyes out that night. Why couldn't she just accept the drawing? I can still feel the wood under my feet as a stood beneath the bin and ripped it up into shreds.
It wasn't fair. Then again, life wasn't fair.
3 words. Those 3 words my father had pressed into my being throughout my 16 years of living. Life wasn't fair. Why wasn't it fair though? Why did it have to be like this. All my friends get to have family dinners every day, their parents actually bother with them. It's like I'm a stupid dead weight on them. More and more tears. No sounds. Just tears. I suddenly felt the space of the room, and quickly got up and went into one of the many guest rooms (not Patty's room though, that would be a strange situation to get myself into in the morning) I got in the sheets, they were cold. The hair on the back of my head stood up. I was restricted in my jeans and my tight T-shirt. I hadn't showered yet. I was so uncomfortable yet so comfortable at the same time. I sort of liked the way my T-shirt hugged me, and I didn't want those soft pyjamas of mine slipping off my body anyway.
I turned to my side, I couldn't sleep. I was restless. Words faded and kept coming back to me. I couldn't get my pain out of my head. That was weird for me, I couldn't push it away. And I wanted to, I wanted to badly. I let out a frustrated groan, it bounced off the walls and made an echo. I kept feeling tears and tears fall. I couldn't stop them. I couldn't remember the last time I cried. It had been ages. My breathing got quicker and quicker... not another one. I prayed to god that it wasn't another one. But it was.
I sat up and pressed my knees to my chest, trying to stay as quiet as I could. That worsened it. My lungs were tightening as the tears came again and again, rolling off my cheeks like a waterfall. My head felt tight and my brain was throbbing. I rubbed my eyes and though 'please make this end'. I didn't like having panic attacks. Nobody really knew about them, apart from Patty. She would always make me her "special" tea (I still have no clue what it had inside it, but it's amazing) and she would tell me it's alright. It's pathetic how I feel more comfortable with my housekeeper than my mother, isn't it? Thoughts ran through my mind, words went through one ear and out the other, and soon enough I drifted off into a restless, light sleep.
*dream*
White. It was blinding. It painted the walls and every inch of this room. Weird thing is... it seemed like the air was white. Everything seemed white, this was more a place than a room. I noticed my vision was slightly hazy, I didn't have my contact lenses on. I felt... free. Like I was just me, nothing else trying to better me. I still remember in 6th grade when I would get bullied for my glasses. Kids would snap them in half and call me a loser, it only really got worse because I showed them it was okay. That it was okay to treat my like that. Maybe it's because that's how I felt about myself too. Maybe I subconsciously agreed with them, I just didn't want to give into my self hatred so I pretended. Maybe. The thoughts once again drifted off and I felt my headache start to ebb away, and my lungs loosen. I couldn't feel my feet on the ground. There was a door, right in from of me. Why don't I go in it? Maybe I should. I walked to it, funny thing is I couldn't feel the floor. I couldn't see it either. Huh...
My hand touched the smooth wooden handle, and I stayed there. With my hand on the doorknob, contemplating on whether or not to go in. I wasn't thinking... it was impossible to think with all this light. It was the opposite of the real world for me. I turned the knob, my hand working faster than my brain and opened the door. What I found was surprising. My parents... and me. We were eating a cake. It was yellow and it had these wonderful little sprinkles on it. Smooth icing laid out the words "happy birthday!" Buttercream? Fondant? I'm not actually sure. A little blue candle stood in the middle of the cake. It said 7 on it, little dots of colour outlining the number. There were beads of wax dripping on it, the fire on the wick creating a pool of blue wax at the top. I heard a laugh, it sounded so familiar yet so so foreign. "Happy birthday darling, blow out the candles." A lady stood next to me, I looked younger, like a toddler. I clapped my hands joyfully and giggled a childish giggle. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, tears that never fell. The lady looked like my mother, younger. More free.
At that, a smart looking man crouched down to me. My father. "Hey buddy, you're 7 today. I want you to make a wish." He said, his voice light. "Anything I want?" I spoke, looking hopeful. "Anything." I knew exactly what I wished for. "I love you buddy, I always will" he gave me a kiss on the cheek and hugged me. I laughed and kissed him back. "I love u too dadda!" He smiled, I noticed the lines in his face were gone. His wrinkles were lessened. He looked happier, to put it simply. "But dadda you said you have to go to a meeting! What about that?" Young me asked. At that a certain type of joy crossed his face. An indescribable type of pleasure that's so pure... I felt myself drift away from sleep, I felt my body being shaked. I lost touch with my subconsciousness, but not without hearing a soft voice whisper "Nothing is more important than you."
*end of dream*My eyes opened as I felt someone shaking me. "Ben wake up!" Devi?
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Hello everybody! how have you been doing <3 I promised you guys I would update, and I've come through! This chapter is nearly 2000 words (I'm so prouddd🙈) and I hope you guys enjoy Ben's character and how I portrayed him. If there's any more ideas you want me to do, please give them to and I'll do them! I've been looking at all of your wonderful comments and they honestly make my heart go💖💞💓💗 so THANK YOU!! I've looked at all your ideas, including the ones where Ben is jealous ;)) and I've got you girl! I'm 100% doing whatever you guys want so just comment what you wanna see and I'll try to write it. I'm always thinking Ben could have an angry side... not sure about that but it would be cool because Devi would feel less alone and Ben would feel like someone gets him! Ok ok imma go now but enjoy everyone!❤️❤️❤️
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Will you have me? Ben x Devi fanfic
FanficA Never Have I Ever FanFiction Ship: Devi Vishwakumar x Ben Gross Devi finds herself changing her selfish ways as she slowly falls in love with her old rival. A coming of age story full of new discoveries and adventures between 2 lovers. DISCLAIMER...