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He was always alone.
He had an aura of despondency, that surrounded him at all times.
Piko, or Pico he thinks was his name. He didn't know exactly how it was spelled.
The only reason he knew was because of the rollcall in first period class that he had with him.
He was transferred to this school from another district in Philadelphia. He heard it on the news, recently. A school shooting that just happened a few weeks ago at another high school not far from his own. Not that he ever watched the news, his parents only ever did. He'd just overhear it, while messing with his phone in the same room.
He heard his mother mumble something about how "awful it was that more and more kids seem to be getting a hold of weapons at such a young age" to his father. In which, he just would just click his tongue in distaste, shake his head, and then change the channel to see if the Eagles were playing on his favorite sports channel.
Not that it was any of his business, but he did overhear the news lady say that over a dozen students were killed in the shooting, including the shooter herself and a teacher. Her name wasn't memorable, so he couldn't remember exactly what it was even though it was said on the television numerous times. He barely glanced up at the screen to get a glimpse of the shooter. She looked like a regular goth kid, those long baggy Tripp branded pants, black hair (dyed probably) against her pale complexion. She looked like someone who would shoot up a school in his opinion, call it stereotypical.
He must have come from that school. It was too coincidental. It was just enough time after the shooting took place to get a child registered to another school, especially since it was his senior year, he could only assume. He was probably around seventeen, but his figure made him look younger.
He was a typical ginger-boy. Bright reddish-orange hair spiked back in a Mohawk of sorts. The sheen and shine on his hair indicated that he wore hair gel to help his gravity-defying locks. Freckles bunched at the bridge of his nose fanning out across his cheeks, seemingly the only area they infected, visible to the eye. He was uncertain if he had more on his arms, however, due to his attire.
He always wore, seemingly, the same outfit to school every day. A green turtleneck sweater adorned him in a way that that was a stark contrast to his hair color. It made him pop out, like a green hat with an orange bill attached. For pants, he always wore the same color beige khakis. They looked rather baggy on him, as large pockets lined them in a suspicious way as seen by the stitching. When walking, his pale hands were always shoved deep within the confines of those pockets. Whilst sitting, he'd always have them out as he slouched in his seat. What brought the attire all together in a weird fashion was his red sneakers. Always the same, faded red running shoes that looked like he got them from a second-hand store.
However, nothing could compare to his eyes. If one saw him with a cane or a service animal, they would think he was blind. His irises were nearly completely white in color. Outlined just barely in front of his sclera. The only thing that was immensely noticeable about them was his pupil. It was almost surreal to watch him walk from a lighted place to a shadowed room in rather quick succession. He looked rather cat-like, as his pupil would shrink then rapidly expand against the mostly white irises.
He never spoke. Not that anyone ever had spoken to him to give an opportunity. During rollcall his name would be called and he would simply raise his hand lowly to signal that he was present and nothing more. The teachers never would call on him to answer questions or make comments. Didn't know if that was considered lucky or not. He wondered what his voice sounded like. Was it high pitch, and squeaky like he was going through puberty? Or was it a deep baritone that easily showed that his balls dropped.
His figure was on the short side. He was smaller than his own person, that he guessed. He never approached him to get a proper visual difference in height. No one approached him, actually. Not a single soul would even acknowledge his presence. They avoided him like the plague, even though he didn't have much of a reason for the avoidance. He didn't smell, nor did he give off an aura of "get the fuck away from me." He just was there. Almost like a visible ghost among the living.
During lunch was the most obvious part of the eschewing. In class, students had no choice than to sit in their seats. In the cafeteria, when the kids got to choose their own, it was blatant. He sat at the farthest corner of the cafeteria. A radius of empty seats spanning at least two tables worth, surrounding him. He would sit there, nearly motionless, the entire period. No lunch in front of him, or even attempt to get one from the crappy school food they served. His posture was slumped as his gaze was locked onto the table in front of him. His hands were out of those pockets resting on his legs. His eyes looked rather unfocused, lazily blinking every so often signaling that he was alive at least.
There were times where the ginger-boy wasn't in the lunchroom at all, as well. Those were noticeable only from the radius of empty seats now filled with talkative kids. He guessed that he was either hiding in the bathrooms or somewhere else that the teachers wouldn't have already been keeping guard, which was impressive. Or perhaps the teachers never cared to keep an eye on him to begin with, hence why he was always able to slip away without notice.
"Keith..."
"Keith...!"
The jostle of a hand on his shoulder shook him from his momentary daze, eyes locking with the dark brown eyes belonging to one of his best friends. "Huh?!" Darnell sat across the table from him, as he reeled his arm back with an irritated look on his face.
"Dude, I've asked if you played the new COD game, like a hundred times just now!" Darnell spoke loudly, over the incessant chatter of the other kids in the lunchroom. His arms raising to gesture the irritant in his voice.
"He's looking at him again..." Cherry spoke softly. A brown-haired beauty sat next to the taller dark-haired male across from Keith at the table.
These were his two closest friends. Darnell was his second-hand man, always getting into dares with each other, and talking about the latest video games to hit the market. They've been best friends for the majority of their grade school years. It was hard to believe that they were all seniors, and this would be the last year that they would all be together like this.
Cherry was an ex-girlfriend of Keith. They tried to start dating early in their tenth-grade year after meeting each other in ninth. It only lasted a few months before they both decided that they were better off as friends than lovers. They were still relatively close, though not as so with Darnell. She was more-so the docile person of the group. She was the one who would keep the other two in line most of the time and trying to keep them from doing stupid things. Most of the time, it worked.
Keith was sort of the leader of their little group. He was lively and always energetic to the point of obnoxious sometimes. Even Darnell had a hard time keeping up with him on some occasions. He had bright neon blue hair that he dyed consistently to make sure it stayed that way. That is his favorite color after all. He had bright green eyes that always blended well with his hairdo. Whenever he is out of school, he always wore a bright red cap that he would wear backwards to show off his stuck out bangs of his lightning blue locks. Sadly, no hats were allowed in school unless it was for a religious reason. Hopefully college-life can fix that so he could wear his regular attire in peace. Just one more year.
"Shhh...!" the aqua-haired boy hushed quietly, waiving his hands in front of him with exaggeration. "I-I was not staring, GF...!" He hushed, as he glanced around to make sure no one else heard or saw him. GF, short for girlfriend, a nickname that both he and Cherry attained after their breakup, mostly using it as pet names or for teasing purposes.
Darnell clicked his tongue in disapproval and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I don't know why you stare at that freak every day he's in here, Dude. You're acting like he is going to sprout wings and fly away, man, that's how focused you are on 'em." Just mentioning the loner had him looking over Keith's right to where he was currently seated, a grimace of an angered frown on his face.
"Aww, come one dude. Don't say that; that's not cool." Keith spoke honestly, shoulders slumping at the sudden insult at the other kid.
The taller male huffed at the tone of his best friend, regretting the harsh word he spoke already. "Well, seriously... Why do you look at him all of the time? He doesn't do anything but just stare at his desk like a mindless drone all day. Even in class he does that." He tried to reason with the aqua-haired boy that sat across from him. Ever since that ginger showed up, he started to get a little jealous at how Keith's attention seemed to be solely on that outsider instead of their little group.
"I don't know BF, he's garnered a lot of your undivided attention recently..." Cherry finally spoke up after messing with her nails during the majority of their conversation, bright blue eyes firing at shocked green ones. "Did he say something to you?" She asked honestly, leaning in while glancing at the silent ginger three tables down from them.
Keith was never good at hiding his honesty, as he raised a hand to the back of his neck to scratch at it. A nervous habit that he never grew out of from his younger years. "Well... no, actually. I've never heard a peep from the guy." Distinctly moving his head, he was more aware of his own self looking at the quite male. "I mean... Just look at him... He looks so miserable..." He was hoping that he wasn't being too loud to be overheard.
It was truly a sad sight to see. Keith didn't like the idea that anyone would feel left out like that. This wasn't a form of bullying he was familiar with; it was more like abandonment. Not a single person or teacher hardly gave him a passing glance. He never did anything to deserve that kind of treatment. Even new kids would get some sort of attention from a group in their school. All except this one.
"Well, I heard that he was in that school shooting that happened at Columbine High*." Darnell spoke quietly, just loud enough to have their group hear him. He leaned in putting a hand up to conceal his mouth from the side to speak in their little circle. "And I also heard that he was the kid that killed the shooter...!" He whispered harshly, hearing a light gasp from GF next to him.
"Darnell stop that...! You're freaking me out...!" Cherry lightly shoved him, barely making a shift from his larger frame. "You are such a liar, Darney... Like that would ever be true..." She rolled her eyes, waiving off the accusation as nothing more than cannon fodder against the loner. The dark-haired male chuckled softly at the reaction from GF, glancing over at the other male to see his.
"Man, that's not true and you know it. Don't fall for those stupid-ass rumors, Dude, that's not like you." Keith gave a look of disappointment over to his best friend, not liking the insinuated bullying that can occur from a rumor like that. He was never a fan of bullies, and never was one from the start. "And besides... I'm sure if he saved his school, he'd be renown as a hero and be all over the news, right?"
"Exactly." The brown-haired beauty spoke up lowly. "So quit talking nonsense, will you?" Her attention right back on her nails after the final statement. They all finished their lunches and she simply just wanted tranquility again.
An exaggerated "Psh!" was heard, before Darnell waived his friends suggestions off. "Whatever... It still doesn't explain his behavior. And if you ask me-..."
The conversation seemed to fade in the background of the rest of the others that chatted relentlessly in the noisy cafeteria. Keith's attention was drawn back on the sweater-clad boy in the corner once again. Even though he was obviously staring at him, the pale gaze was attentive on the off-white table.
As much as he wanted to, it was too out in the open to just go up and start talking to the guy. He didn't want to start any problems with anyone else, and certainly didn't want to ruin his reputation in school, not that he had one. He was known as the kid with the blue hair, mostly. Nothing bad or good, just normal except for the color of his hair. He was well liked by the majority of kids and people tolerated him. He wanted to end his final school year with peace.
He hated to see people look sad and would normally be the type of person to jump in front of them to brighten their day whether they like it or not. He was in that boat too, during his preteen years. If it wasn't for Darnell, he might have done something stupid. It hurt him to see that no one tried to cheer him up. Once he got over his depressive state, he vowed to make sure everyone he came across had a smile on their face by the time he was done. Just knowing the feeling of being alone and like no one cares is awful.
This, on the other hand, was completely out of his league.
He had to come up with something to make this new kid feel welcomed by their school, since no one else was attempting. Normally, a new kid would just be a little awkward and shy at first then open up drastically once Keith introduced them to the school allowing them to flourish with their own group or join one of the established cliques. This was a whole new issue that came out of nowhere. How was he going to fix this?
The bell rang loudly, signaling the end of lunch period, startling Keith out of his daze to look up at the speakers momentarily. By the time he looked back at the lonely boy, he was already gone. Green eyes darted around to see where he had dashed off to and noticed the unmistakable green sweater rounding a corner and out of view. He was bewildered at the speed of this guy but saddened by how fast he wanted to be the first one out of the break period that everyone slogged on escaping.
Grabbing his empty lunchbox, he got up with his two friends. Darnell was still blabbing on about how accurate the simulation was on the newest COD game, probably jumped on the topic after mentioning the school shooting from before. Keith hardly paid any attention. Trying to conjure up an idea on what he can do to draw out a word from this guy at least, without bringing any attention to himself. That was his first goal.
Meeting at the end of the hall where they all split to their different classes, Darnell and Keith gave their signature fist bump that felt so instinctual that he barely noticed that he did it in the first place. "See ya, Dude. Meet me online tonight, kay?" The taller male waived as he turned away towards Hall A about to head towards his locker.
Snapping back to reality for a bit, the smaller male smiled, "Of course, man. Gotta break in that new game, right?" He nodded at his friend, as he watched him walk away down his designated hallway.
Looking over at his ex, she leaned up to give him a near crushing hug, always has been very touchy even after they broke up. "Did you wanna play with us tonight?" He asked genuinely, making sure that she didn't feel left out.
"Ugh, you know that I can't play those shooting games. I suck at them anyway. Besides, me and the girls are going out tonight so you two have fun~." She grinned up at BF and turned to walk away with a casual wave, ending the conversation there.
"Alright, GF. I'll see ya tomorrow." He spoke to her fleeing back as she headed down Hall C to her class. This was their usual routine. After lunch, they all didn't see each other until the following day during that period. They all took different buses home, and usually hung out over the weekend at best when none of them were busy.
Silently, he wondered which hallway the ginger-kid went down, as he turned to walk down Hall B to go to his next class and finish his day.
~ O ~
The rest of the day went as lackluster as possible. Keith didn't see the loner for the remainder of the day, which was normal since he had no classes with him unless it was his first period.
He had a plan that he was going to put into motion the following day. That is, only, if the other male would cooperate.
~ O ~
They were always there.
These disembodied sounds that would creep up in his ears. Sometimes, they would sound so far away that they were in another room, muffled and soft. Other times, they sounded like a direct whisper right next to him. They never spoke fluent sentences, just noises.
They started to develop after the incident at his previous high school.
He was forced to attend a full mental evaluation when he was rescued from the premises. A dozen of his fellow classmates, all piled in bloody heaps where they last stood before being murdered in cold blood. He was lucky to make it out of there alive.
He can remember every detail from the fires being set, to the shooter herself actively massacring his friends. Cassandra. That was her name. She had always had a crush on him, but he never even acknowledged her existence until that very same day. That was probably the reason why he was still alive today was because she spared him at first.
He vividly remembers running to hide somewhere. The lockers were too small for him to fit in, so he ran to the janitor's room for cover and safety. What he didn't expect to find was a gun. He had never used a weapon before that day, but he learned very quickly how it worked. Loading the magazine into the weapon, he found the safety and turned it off. Pulling the slide back to load a bullet in the chamber, he lifted the gun with both hands. The weight of the pistol heavy in his hands, as he dashed out to find a way to escape out in the hall.
What he didn't expect was a second person who was an assailant to the main shooter. He didn't know him well, but he was the one to spill the info about Cassandra sparing his life due to her crush on him. Along with that information, he lifted his own weapon and gave a clean shot to his left shoulder
The pain registered only as a light stab, as the bullet shot clean through. Adrenaline coating over any immense crippling pain that he may have felt at all. He could feel blood soaking into his usual green sweater he always wore, turning it a nasty brown color. Instinctively, he raised his own weapon and unloaded a shot. The first bullet disarmed the guy, as he shouted and pleaded for mercy. Then a second one went through his head.
The sound of silence was deafening, only hearing the roaring of fires that got set in some of the classrooms. Probably due to one of the shooters pyromaniac tendencies. He didn't even realize that he ended up killing him until he actually saw the life drain away in his eyes.
Harsh, stuttered, breaths left his lungs in a quick succession, his gaze never leaving the sight of the first person he ever killed. He actually committed murder by his own hands. He felt like he was hyperventilating, his hands that held the gun felt like he was holding a lead weight. His arms were shaking from the act and the ringing he was still hearing in his ears from the close proximity of the shots he fired with no ear protection.
His entire body flinched as if he was electrocuted as the sounds of more gunfire echoed through the school. He thought it was himself at first, accidentally firing from a twitch of his finger that was still on the trigger. Looking around, though, he wasn't the one to create those particular sounds of gunfire, he was sure of it.
Snapping him back to reality, he lowered his weapon and dashed towards where the sounds came from. The teachers' lounge was the last place he checked, and Cassandra and the rest of her squad were there. The three of them all glowered at him as he busted through the doors, making sure he'd put an end to this.
Cassandra taunted him mercilessly, as she carelessly stated she no longer needed the help of her comrades. Without blinking, she unloaded her gun onto her two other subordinates, killing them easily. Turning towards him, she smiled, teeth showing in one of the most horrifying grins he has ever witnessed. She went to raise her weapon, but he was quicker to the draw.
Unloading the entire magazine, he kept pulling the trigger, even after the first shot knocked her to the floor, hitting her in the chest. The second, third and fourth shot scattered across her torso and head, easily taking her down. She probably died on the second shot.
Pico didn't stop pulling the trigger after she went down. The incessant clicking of the empty chamber, did little to his imagination. He swore that this gun was filled with unlimited ammo, as he was hallucinating her body being punctured by each and every empty pull of the gun.
Eventually, his hands were shaking so badly that he could no longer hold onto the weapon as he dropped it to his feet. He fell to his knees shortly after, those same hands gripping onto his head as he couldn't take his eyes away from the gruesome sight of the mangled bodies in front of him. Falling forward, he caught himself with his hands, head hung between his aching shoulders, his gaze now locked onto the gun that his hands flanked on both sides. He could hardly notice his blurred vision and the dripping tears that plopped down onto the weapon and floor beneath him. Strangled sobs wrecked through his entire being, his frame violently shaking in the process.
The police found him in the corner of the room. His arms wrapped around his knees, sobbing quietly. The gun still lay in the same place he dropped it. They took him into custody, thinking he was the killer at first. He didn't speak a word of innocence or guilt at all. He allowed the police to take him away quietly.
It wasn't until the school cameras were found and documented the case; he was finally released from custody after a few days. He barely ate, and rarely slept those few days in the juvenile detention center. He was housed separately from the rest of the inmates until he was deemed to be innocent or brought to trial. They also treated his gunshot wound, stitching the bullet size hole in his shoulder, saying he was lucky that the piece of metal didn't get stuck in his body, or shatter a bone on the way out.
All charges were dropped on him as the main shooter was identified as deceased.
This happened over two months ago to this day.
He has been attending this new high school to finish out his senior year for over a month so far. His parents tried to pretend like everything was ok, and nothing happened. The school forced him to be medically evaluated by a psychiatrist before attending, which he did.
He was officially diagnosed with a mild form of schizophrenia, a mild form of psychosis, clinical depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, and anxiety disorder
The doctor stated that his schizophrenia and psychosis may manifest into a worse condition if left untreated.
He was given an array of medications to treat his conditions, however, he never took them.
He pretended to take them in front of his parents, tucking the pills into the sides of his cheeks and teeth, then spitting them out in the toilet or sink drain when they turned away. He never liked taking them.
The first day on these medications, he did take them as prescribed. It made him feel terrible. The voices and visions were gone, but there was a sort of, fuzz that seemed to coat his brain. He didn't feel like he was a person anymore. He felt more robotic than a human being. He could hardly feel anything, let alone happiness or sadness.
Since that day, he stopped taking the medications, and just faked his way through progress. He told his doctor that everything was fine now, and that the medications were helping him, to keep the doses the same. He tricked his parents into thinking that he was taking his prescriptions and getting better. However, to keep his own sanity, he just shut down. At least he was able to feel again, even if it was mostly sadness and hallucinogens. He'd rather feel pain and know he is alive, then nothing at all.
The other kids at this school probably knew what happened. Even he, himself, heard of his schools shooting at this point. They all avoided him completely. That was the best thing he could have asked for. The last thing he needs were people bunching up on him bringing up the past, even though it only happened two months ago. He wanted to forget about this, even though he knows that he can't ever let this go.
He doesn't want empathy or pity, he just wants to be left alone, and he is getting his wish.
All except for this day.
~ O ~
Pico's day was full of consistencies. He walked to school, too afraid to be ridiculed on the bus. Went to his classes. During lunch, he would sit at his usual corner, dodged by all of his classmates. Continue on with his day and walk home at the end of his last class.
His grades were average, just barely considered passing. Before, he made decent grades, and actually attempted. He was rather intelligent, but he just wanted to get high school over with and move on with his life.
Today, during lunch, he decided to turn in the opposite direction of the cafeteria after class, towards the library. No one was in there during lunch period, it was a perfect place for him to squabble.
What he didn't notice was a pair of emerald eyes watching his every step as he entered the double doors of the library.
He hardly ate anything at all on a normal basis. He never ate at school. Just barely consuming half of his dinner at home before crawling off to bed to deal with the next day. He just was never hungry anymore and that showed on his rapidly deteriorating frame.
He took a seat at his usual corner table of the library and locked his gaze onto his spot on the table.
This was when the sounds would start to creep up on him again. When other people or sounds were actually around him, it seemed to drown out the noises so he couldn't hear them well. His gaze would focus on the table to prevent him from seeing the shadows at the corners of his vision. If he was intently focused on something, they didn't seem to bother him as much.
He learned to haphazardly deal with his symptoms with these workarounds in certain circumstances. However, in the quieted place as the library they would creep back into his subconscious once again. He learned to ignore the voices. At first, he would acknowledge them, and try to respond. That was a bad idea. They just got louder, and more believable to him. More real. He managed to force himself to just hear the mumbles of the sounds and whispers into a garbled mess of hushes that would grace his senses.
"Hey there..."
It spoke to him today. Much clearer than ever before.
~ O ~
Keith eventually managed to catch a glimpse of that green sweater slide into the library. This was his chance.
"Hey, guys, I'm gonna head to the bathroom real quick, I'll be right with ya in a bit, kay?" He spoke back to Cherry and Darnell, giving them a curt nod.
They both noted an "ok" and left for their usual spot in the cafeteria.
Jumping at the chance, he sneaked over to the large wooden double doors that his target went through. As carefully as he could, the blue-haired male gently gripped one of the doors handles, and pulled down to unlatch the door, pushing it open with a silent hiss.
Glancing around, he noticed that the librarian was nowhere to be seen, as usual. She was probably in the side office not even paying attention to kids coming into the library. Not that anyone ever came into this place during lunch hour. Sliding into the cracked door, he softly closed it behind him, making sure to keep the handle down until the door was fully shut before letting it go.
Turning back, he stood and looked around the spooky study. There were tall walls of cabinets lining up to fill the entire room with many rows of books. Round tables were placed sporadically around the twists and turns of the huge den allowing patrons to casually sit and read whenever they may come across a book of their choosing. Large windows graced the walls near the ceiling to bring in natural light alongside the florescent hanging rows of lights.
He gripped his lunchbox closer to him, as he shuffled his backpack higher onto his shoulders and made his way further into the confines of the room, looking for that familiar spiky hair.
Luckily, that didn't take very long, as he reached the near end of the row of books, he turned the corner to find his goal.
He was as still as ever. Not even noticing that he followed him in here. Keith didn't know if he was that oblivious or if he was just ignoring him, or thinking he was an actual student trying to find a place to read. His back was facing him, as he carefully made his way to the second chart diagonal to him on the round table.
He placed his lunchbox down on the table, jostling it lightly, and placed his backpack on the ground next to his chair before giving a glance over to the ginger.
The other male didn't even flinch, or so much as move a muscle when he sat down. Almost like he didn't even hear or see him. He definitely wasn't blind, but was he deaf? No, that was impossible. He would always raise his hand during rollcall when his name was called.
There was only one way to find out.
"Hey there..." Keith spoke softly.
Those two words created a reaction of some kind, which was progress in Keith's book. His usual stoic eyebrows, similar in color to his hair, scrunched together lightly. As if he was in the middle of doing a hard math problem and he was thinking it through.
This was a start, he guessed. He attempted to draw it out further.
"My name is Keith, what's your name?" He spoke quietly, for being in a library, but since he had no real reason to be whispering, he spoke his regular volume but at a lower decibel. He had no reason to ask his name since he already knew it from class. However, he deemed it rude to just walk up to someone he didn't know personally without a proper introduction.
The next reaction was rather odd, but he took it in with fascination.
Those blinding white irises disappeared behind closed lids, as the other male let out a sigh. A curt frown deepening from before into a scowl, before he opened his eyes once again focused on his spot from before. His eyebrows scrunched further into more of an angered look, as he ignored the other male entirely.
Keith was dumbstruck. His hair jostled from side to side as he looked over his shoulders to see if anyone else may have come in or if it was indeed him that seemed to be irritating the smaller male. Noticing no one else present, he looked back at the only other person at the table and swallowed thickly. He was rather hungry, maybe the presence of food would bring the freckled man to speak to him.
A sound of a loud zipper was prominent in the space and rows of books and dusty novels, as Keith started to take out the contents of his lunch. He knew he wasn't supposed to eat in here, but as long as no one was looking, he didn't see a reason to stop. A simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread, wrapped in plastic wrap was taken out first. It was cut into two pieces diagonally down the center, crusts intact. A red-delicious apple was pulled, alongside of a juicy-juice, grape flavored. A pull-apart cheese-stick and a yo-plait yogurt was placed out with a plastic spoon. And to top it all off, a little-Debbie cosmic brownie was the final piece brought out to bring it all together, with napkins of course.
The first thing he did, was take his sandwich and peeled open the wrapper. Keith gently separated the pieces and placed one side on the spare napkin he had and slid it over to the other's view, directly in front of him. "I noticed that you didn't bring lunch. You can have some of mine." He said gently, making sure to come off as non-threatening as possible, which wasn't easy since he already looked really pissed.
Just before he was about to eat his half, Keith paused as he noticed another slight movement from the other.
Those same orange brows that were knitted together in anger, now crested upwards as if in worry. Near white irises darted around the sandwich that was placed in front of him like it was a foreign object he'd never seen before. He leaned back, ever-so-slightly, as if to grasp the situation at a wider angle, then leaned back in again at the same place. He clenched his eyes shut and shook his head, like he was doing a double take. He let out a frustrated growl before opening his eyes again to make sure what he was seeing was real, almost with a look of astonishment.
Before the blue boy could comprehend what, he was saying, he blurted "are you allergic to peanuts?" It was clearly a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, maybe he was being inconsiderate and assuming that he didn't have one of the most common allergies known to humankind.
That did it.
"You're not real...!"
That voice was of a deep baritone, and raspy in nature, kind of like a smokers. Keith did not expect that from him at all. His scrawny figure and smaller stature did not give off that kind of voice in his head. It brought a light blush to cover his cheeks at the sound of another person in such a quiet place, almost like he was scared he was going to get caught eating in the library. His statement was so quiet, he nearly didn't catch it at all. If he was in the cafeteria, it would have been missed among the loud chatter. He decided to respond "Uh... But I am real. I'm right in front of you." The aquamarine-colored male flinched, just barely, at the sharp reflex of the other man at the table.
Pico jerked his head up at the statement, dark black pupils shrinking a little in the light that came from the windows. He locked eyes with bright emeralds, his own widening with shock and worry. This was the first time his visions became surreal like this. He never wanted to acknowledge them, pretended that they didn't exist. This couldn't be real. This figment of his condition was manifesting faster than he anticipated. Normally, they would just be shadows that would move in and out of the corners of his sight. Whispers that would speak in hush tones that he couldn't quite understand. This one, right here. He was the most realistic apparition he'd come across. Was he being haunted by a deceased student from his previous school? He paled at the thought.
Keith blinked at the response. The ginger sat there, completely in shock. His face paled, making his freckles stand out further from his already light complexion. Those incredible eyes seemed to shrink in size, only noticeable from the pupil's reaction to light, only inspecting closer one could see the actual color of his eyes. If he looked closer, he could see his entire frame shaking, as if from fear. Was it something he said? He looked like he'd seen a ghost.
Looking around, bright blue hair jostled lightly, as Keith glanced around himself once again to make sure that he wasn't missing the presence of another person or anything else. When no other soul was around, he looked back at the startled male with worry, as he seemed to be locked into a starting contest that he was easily losing. "Hey, are you ok?" He asked softly, leaning in a little towards the smaller male.
"What do you want from me...?!"
Keith was taken aback and jerked back into his original position, leaning in again with concern. He acted like he completely offended this guy, although the look on his face only represented complete dread. He knew why, now, no one would dare speak to this guy at first. His complete standoffish behavior was one thing, but he could only imagine what he was feeling right now. Perhaps he was so isolated, that he didn't think that the first person who would speak to him was real at all. That is incredibly unsettling. "Woah, now, I don't want anything from you, dude." He tried to reconcile with a gentle smile. "I just don't want anyone to feel left out, is all. Kinda in my nature, I guess." He gave a curt laugh to help lighten the mood so thick one could cut it with a spoon.
To help ease the freckled kid in, he gave his hand, palm up in a friendly gesture. "See? I'm real." He spoke softly, watching as the closer he got, the further back the other male leaned staring at his hand like it had a weapon pointed at him. Moving slowly, he tried to get a little closer to emphasis his point. "Let's try this again. My name is Keith. What's yours?"
He could clearly see a bead of sweat roll down the side of his face in complete anxiety. His gaze never left the offending hand, blinking in disbelief it seemed. It was like he was deeply inspecting his palm, trying to find something that no one else could interpret. To help try and snap him out of this trance, he flexed his fingers softly in a come-hither motion.
That seemed to work, as he jerked back like a frightened animal at first. Then slowly, he noticed the other lifted his own arm up, hand trembling mid-air. He leaned it down slowly, just before touching he jerked it back to his chest almost like he got burned with a sharp gasp, eyes clamping shut. In the quiet of the library, he could hear the others breath quicken significantly. Keith decided to keep as still as possible to not scare him away, this was incredibly fascinating to witness.
He watched him swallow thickly, as he attempted to calm himself down, lengthening his breaths out evenly. After a few moments of complete silence, he opened those incredible eyes again, looking up at Keith with immense trepidation. The orange-haired male was met with only a small smile back, as he waited patiently.
He looked back down at the offered hand, and swallowed once again, shoulders lifting near his ears in unease. Shakily, he unhooked his own hand from his green sweater on his chest and lowered it to the one on the table as gently as he could.
Slightly calloused fingertips graced the smooth palm of the other, before he was gripped completely in a firm handshake making him want to jerk back his own arm in shock. There was no further movement other than their hands holding one another, his own still trembling against the shocking warmth of the supposed apparition. His gaze never left the conjoined hands.
As gently as Keith could, he gave a light squeeze forcing the other man to jerk his gaze to his. A soft smile decorated his face to show of as little offense as possible. He tried again, in case he forgot. "My name is Keith."
The ginger bounced his gaze up and down from those startling emeralds to his smaller hand encased in the larger one. This vision... was real. It had to be. They were never warm. They never were kind. As anonymous as they were, he knew that those visions and voices didn't like him. He was certain that they were out to get him. This one, though. He reached out. He touched him without any malice. He could feel a gentle pulse through the others palm. He was real.
Trying to calm himself from shaking so much, he swallowed down his fear. He decided to indulge himself, just this once.
"P-Pico..."