Those Who Bruise Us (Creek) (OMEGAVERSE)

Chapter Two: Why We Hurt

He wished his world wasn't a twisted wasteland, a cross between a deserted tundra and an abandoned desert, constantly contradicting each other in different miserable ways but sharing the same loneliness. He limped his way down the tree outside of his house, ignoring the eerie creaking sound of the branches, echoing in his ear melodiously.

He was used to it, sneaking out, the pain, the blood and bruises, the sounds of night, it was like a lullaby to him by now. The cold nipped at his skin through his blue hoodie and his black RedRacer shirt beneath. The metallic taste and smell of his blood distorted the cold, and he could already feel some of it crusting up on his skin like burnt bread.

He didnt feel as magnificent as the stars, so it felt like a load of bullshit that he were some forgotten particle of a one. He finally got down, his feet crunching down on the freshly frozen snow. It was cold out, cold enough that his own breath taunted his eyes in a cloudy explosion. He took those first few steps, always the easiest to make, and descended on his usual path.

The night was quiet, save for the other nocturnal creatures joining him on his journey of unsolicited solace. His hands were tucked into his hoodie, to keep them away from the famished cold. His mind was rather blank, he left his deep thoughts in the woods along with his emotions, he left them only for the stars to see.
-
His footsteps rang through the woods like piano notes, echoing back to his own ears like Chopin's Nocture. He almost paused when the sight of someone else came into view. Another lost soul, searching for their place among the stars of night. Craig Tucker did not hesitate, not even at the sight of the intruder. He took his seat on the bench, like it was his throne, and he was the king of the lonely woods. His crown was the old blue chullo hat on his head, locking the warmth inside like a prisoner.

He glanced blankly at the sky, another place he had to hide his emotions. The blonde haired boy twitched nervously as he sat down beside him, too close for Craig's liking. Everyone was always too close for Craig's liking. "Here, for your nose and uhm mouth," his shrill voice shattered the tranquility he'd came here for.

He didn't know what possessed him to do it, as his gaze stared at the blue cloth in the male's trembling out stretched hand, but as his gaze slid to his face, annoyance and anger boiled over, bubbling out and splattering on the other boy's pale skin. Bloody spit dripped down his face. "Don't fucking act like you know me, spazz." He didn't even feel guilty. He was probably some druggy waiting for their next fix.

The boy twitched, wiping his face precariously with his sleeve rather than the cloth. He sat it down closer to Craig than he was comfortable with, and a ghost of a pathetic smile curled his lips up. "Sorry." He murmured, green eyes turning to his fingers as he picked the skin on them off.

Craig didn't speak to him again, he was bitter that there was another person here, and the stars stared down at him sadly. He didn't care. They sat in uncomfortable silence for awhile, aside from the occasional shaky breath or twitch from the blonde.

When he knew the blonde wasn't paying attention, he stole a quick, narrowed glanced. The boy was trembling in the cold weather, nothing relatively warm on his body, just a paper thin shirt that wasn't even on correctly.

Craig rolled his eyes, just what he needed. Some druggy, spastic blonde here, sitting so close. He stood, but they both surprisingly stood at the same time, as if their heart beats, their breathing and movements were one. Impossible.

Craig watched the boy turn and finally he felt the sadness radiating off of him, the energy of a dying star. He glanced down and swiped the cloth up and into his pocket before the blonde could remember it. He didn't think he would anyways. His lips were blue as they walked the same direction out of the woods, and Craig almost, just almost felt that little tinge of guilt for him. He knew why he was there, but why was the green eyed boy?

Instead of watching the boy off like he wished he could, he made his way home in the opposite direction. He wiped the blood from his face with the little cloth until he got it as clean as he could. He took those last few steps home, the most difficult ones. He never liked coming back. He climbed up the tree, and inside his house, as if he hadn't been out all night.

He glanced at the clock, knowing there was school soon, but what was school to sleep? He laid in bed and tugged the blankets over his head, soon falling asleep.

He woke up later in the evening, and stretched lazily before reaching over and checking his guinea pig, Stripes', food and water. Once that was taken care of, he got her out, letting her relax in his hands as he stroked her little head.

The door shut and the quiet pitter patter of feet echoes down the hall as his sister went into her room. She'd actually went to school. Craig got up,  deciding to take a shower. He hoped it would wash away his feelings, the bruises and blood. He hoped if it didn't wash them away, then it drowned them instead. Maybe that would be better, so he never felt things again, not chance for then to claw their way back out of the drain to cling to him again like a second skin.

-
He turned off the water and climbed out. He got dressed in a similar shirt, blue hoodie, and the same chullo hat. As he was walking out of the bathroom, the front door opened and slammed shut. He could probably make it this time. He glanced at the clock, grabbed his wallet, and climbed back out of the window, ready to make his way back to his place of healing.