THE WRONG ONE (OFFGUN fanfic)

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

DARK

Last day of class. 6 pm. At the dinner table. I could barely survive the dark atmosphere of being glared at while I was poking at my meatballs. I can feel the pressure of being King Arthur having to think about a thing to say that is logical enough for his knights to understand. However, I'm no King Arthur. I'm just a dumb kid.

"You still have the audacity to eat."

"Good meatballs mom." I said trying not to crack a laugh so as not to convince her that I was lying about complimenting her bad cooking.

She then quietly observed how I'm licking off the sauce that was dripping off my thumb. I can feel her stare even though I'm not looking at her. Mom stop trying to show off your wrinkles and bags under your eyes. I get it. It's all because of me.

Yes, it's all because of his dumb son who got expelled on the last day of school. Luckily, our school director is kind enough to do my parents a huge favor of getting rid of me during the last day so that it won't look like I got expelled. It's another way of saying that I'm trying to keep your reputation clean. That fucking reputation. I get that I'm really up to no good, but there were reasons behind it. One too many reasons.

I tried to lift up the mood by pushing the plate of meatballs. "What are we waiting for? There's good food on the table. Let's dig in!"

The last time I tried being enthusiastic over a negative situation was when I got smacked on the head by my father after finding out that I ransacked over his files , in my hopes to find my research paper that happened to be mixed into his papers. And that's all because mom is just so good at cleaning up messy stuffs, but not messy people.

She can't clean my reputation that's been stained. Well, my mom just couldn't get the main point about how a messy room still has an order. I get it. I get that my stuffs are literally everywhere.

By the time you open the door to my room, you have to hop onto a few unwashed clothes of mine, and jump across spilled chips and soda before you get to my enormous bed. I kept on telling her that, but all she ever noticed were garbages ( my stuffs) piled higgledy-piggledy with each other. I'm betting on these meatballs that she can throw me right away , if the authorities are convinced that I'm just another piece of trash. Luckily, we haven't got there yet.

"Did you forgot your brother?" Dad angrily asked. Oh right. This is a family dinner. I really thought this was a group of people on the dinner table.

I looked across the empty seat where my brother supposedly sit. He's like my other half. My doppelganger. Okay, not really. He's my twin.We look the same. I frowned at the thought that we're both identical. How does it feel to be him? How does it feel to be anticipated during dinner? It's so unfair. If I was the one who was late, no one would even bother to wait. For a minute , I tried to imagine myself on that golden seat of his , in a tidy school uniform from a private high, while wearing a nerdy smile behind those ugly glasses. I shrugged at the thought.

Nevertheless, people pay attention to a person with value. And when I say people, I mean everyone. We might look-alike , but we don't intersect. We're parallel with each other. He's the god tier while I'm the trash tier. He's the shiny boy everyone wanted to touch, while I'm this rusty junk people never bothered to look at. Basically, he's the role model and I'm the juvenile delinquent who always looked like he got ran over by some old truck. We just don't click with each other.

His shirt is always tucked in like a good boy and I think that shit ain't cool. He always looked like he can't break a single plate, while I look like I can rob our neighbor's houses.