Chapter Text
``Take this pain away, I've forgotten if I'm real.
Dissociate, I pull myself apart, to remind me how to feel.
How to change my course of action, to put to rest the blame.
How do I become worthy, if I'm bound to go down in flames?
I did this all for you, our world. This was our plan made.
I put myself aside for this, and got you to do the same.
Why must it feel like there's nothing left, when passion fueled our hate?
We spun, and watched their castles fall, we gave ourselves a name.
We once meant nothing at all, I was the mirror to your pain.
Now, I'm standing six feet tall while you wilt away in a grave.
Take this heavy burden off my back, stitch my soul back in place.
Why did I ever tie myself to wrath, and forget what brought us face-to-face?
The regret I feel has numbed my tears, and the world fears my fame.
Now I sit in a four cornered room, eight inches from the sun, waiting for the rain .``
~Wrath Of Son.
A little poem I made.
*******
As every movie likes to start off with what a wise man said. Eric will go against his morals and learn to adapt to the cliche, irregardless of there being little to no original thoughts left. A wise man once said that `Life is like a game, there could be many players. If you don't play with them, they'll play with you`. You've probably heard that saying before in one of your dumb textbooks, or maybe your history teacher brought this wise man up once or twice during several of your boring lectures.
The more that Eric thought about that quote, the more that he believed that Hitler was right.
`Hitler, you are one true son of a bitch. You know that?`
The year is 1999. Smashing Pumpkins is in Bloom as Nirvana is in the Spring.
So when are they going to invent second player video games?
Looks like they already did.
This was a whole new learning curve for the world to take on.
Just two boys `being boys` in an Arcade.
*
In Eric's dream as a little boy, he was running from a pack of wolves. The trees all looked bigger, and moving in towards him like they wanted to swallow him whole. Eric could hear them getting closer, their growls sounded horrific, like they wanted nothing more than to eat him alive. Eric couldn't seem to run fast enough, and couldn't seem to feel his chest, it was numb and his heart felt lodged inside of his throat. Eric could scream for help, but it seemed like his shouting got swallowed by the chill, Autumn wind. Still, Eric ran faster than he ever did. In the distance Eric could hear it, a beeping noise, and as it got louder and louder, Eric began to realize that he was running towards it.
The sound appeared to be coming from the sky, and the skies were quickly getting darker all around him. When Eric had eventually chased the sound to the location, he stumbled over the edge of a cliff, looking down Eric saw thousands of large rocks... he saw the water, and he saw how far he'd nearly dropped. When the wolves got closer, there was a breeze forming at his back, and Eric was afraid to turn around. Instead, Eric closed his eyes tight as he felt the impact. Eric had let those wolves push him off from the cliff, and to Eric, that wasn't surrendering... Eric was already doomed. He woke up to the sound of the alarm on his bedside table, and remembered thinking over and over to himself that he was so glad that those wolves didn't survive the fall either.
That morning, Mom was late to work and Dad was just leaving out the door with his coffee mug. She must have seen the worried look on Eric's face whenever he sat down at the kitchen bar, because she gave him one of those `my poor beautiful boy` faces again. "Eric." She cooed. "Another nightmare?" Eric nodded his head and fetched the fork near his plate. Mom fixed him an omelet before school that day, and Eric was planning on enjoying it to it's fullest. Kevin, his older brother, had slipped up from behind and delved his fingers through Eric's hair, ruffling up the mess of dark blond mop atop his head which had joystick around by how rough Kevin was pulling. "Stop it!" Eric complained, reaching up to swipe at him. Kevin laughed and pushed Eric's head out of his grip. "Now, boys. Kevin, eat. You're going to be late." Today marked the flight that his brother Kevin couldn't miss... he'd be taking a plane to Germany.
Red.
All Eric sees now is Red.
Red floors, red hats, red eyes, red faces, red cars that drive passed. His peripheral is blurred.
There are two kinds of angry people in this world: explosive and implosive. Explosive is the kind of individual you see screaming at the cashier for not getting their food order right before blowing their head off. Implosive is the cashier who remains quiet day after day before finally shooting up the fast food resturaunt. Eric thought of his dad, Wayne. They were both angry people, they knew it. Hell, that’s part of the reason his dad let loose on him sometimes, because he couldn't stand his son being remotely similar to him or not at all. Wayne couldn't have it both ways.
They were both very different in their anger.
Eric was an explosive angry; when someone pissed him off he’d go do something dramatic whether it was punching his wall or faking his departure from the face of this godawful planet. Dad was implosive, he'd wait out his anger day after day until finally getting enough of an excuse to lose it. And when he lost it, he really lost it. Eric had been the brunt of his anger several times, and each time, Eric fought back harder. The scars he'd received from nights like those he had kept hidden, such as like the scars he'd give to himself that he didn't want anyone else to see. Wayne was furious about the fights.
"I don't owe you shit-!"
``Yo, get up off of me!``
Fight. Fight. Fight. That's what the chorus had been singing that school day afternoon when Eric initiated a fight with Brooks. All it took was some form of confrontation, namely the one about how Eric broke the windshield of Brooks car with a giant rock. Brooks came at him relaxed, friendly, wanting to know why Eric Harris did what he did, but then things got heated. Brooks knew what he did, he didn't have to tell him that. Evidently telling Eric to find another ride to school, and being late again that day because Brooks didn't show up was what set him off. Brooks was in the right, Eric wasn't paying his gas money, and it wasn't his responsibility. After all that time wasted, Eric was supposed to pay him back, but he'd suppose a black eye and a busted lip could work as payment.
``Eric. We need to talk," Mother's voice addressed the second that she had heard her son walking in through the front door. Eric took one look and saw both of his parents seated there at the table together. Does anyone realize how hard it was to get them to do that on their own or whenever he needed them? "Do we?" Eric tested, giving them just a couple of seconds to gather up a response, but before he saw his father's lips part, Eric was attempting to squeeze out of this one for the stairs. "Hey!" His dad's voice boomed, their son hadn't even gotten one step up for the bedroom. "Your mother and I are speaking to you. Come here."
Eric begrudgingly took that step back down, his book bag swung over his shoulder on his march over towards the dining table. He looks between them, and if looks could kill, it would be the same look that his dad was giving him ten times worse than the one that Eric was wearing behind a bruised expression. "What's gotten into you, Eric?" Mom sadly spoke out loud, shaking her head and looking into her son's eyes with a bright ray of hope. She wanted to know what's changed, but Dad raised his hand to silence her, and grab Eric's attention again. "We got a phone call from school. It sounds like you've been getting into fights again? With Brooks?" Wayne wouldn't go on in detail of how he'd been keeping record of his son's problems. It wasn't unlike the Browns to have already contacted the police or Eric's parents on their son before.
"Now we're your parents, and as your parents, we want your complete honesty-,"
``What do you know about honesty?`` Eric interrupted.
Wayne's nostrils flared, yet he managed to keep his teetering demeanor in check. For now. "Your mother is worried sick about you. Me, personally? I know what it's like to want to fight at every chance you get." Eric stared hard in the elder's eyes, there's a hint of malice darkening in his stare. "I think you need to start back up your counseling again." Eric swiftly looked at his mother in disbelief when dad voiced it. "What? Sitting down and venting about the same issues I go through every goddamn day didn't help, it never helps! Talking about my problems won't fix things-," "Eric. Your father is right." She softly said, fingers wrapped gently around her coffee mug, her face cuts right through the steam; blond hair cut short and aging worry in her blue eyes. "I think it's time that you got back on your meds."
Eric scoffs. "Unbelievable." He mutters.
Dad shakes his head slowly, "You're so angry, boy."
``And? You're not? You don't give a shit about me-,``
"Watch your mouth!" It was mom's turn to pretend she has the balls like dad does. This further agitates Eric. Since when does she have /his/ side on things? She cares more about Dad than what she does her own son? "Hey." Now it was Dad to fill in the blanks, recognizing the cold, dead expression on Eric's face. "That look in your eyes. Guys at my unit had that look. You think you've lost that battle, don't ya? Well buckle up, kiddo. That battle only gets worse out in the real world." He nods, trying to get that through Eric's head. "And out in the real world, ya can't solve every little problem you got with violence." Eric glowers, to anyone mature enough to listen, maybe his dad has a point but to him? Not so much.
"Yeah, whatever. Easy for a former soldier to say," He wasn't buying it. "Not everything can be solved by ignoring my issues, /dad/," he looks at her with depreciation, his dad had taken a stand and he didn't even notice that either, too busy reading the frustration and pain on his mother's face meanwhile ranting to his father.
"Ever think that's why you and mom don't spend as much time together anymore? When's the last time you got laid? Did you -fuck- Mrs. Wright again?" Suddenly, Eric stumbles to the side when his dad roughly brought his hand firm across the teenager's face. "Wayne!" Katherine had hissed, standing up rather quickly from the dining room chair, the squeak of it's legs resounding as they scoot back in retaliation. Eric turned his head slowly, then all at once, he had shoved his dad as hard as he could, who didn't do much else but laugh and call Eric `weak` before shoving his son back; knocking him down harder onto his ass. Stepping forward, Wayne stalked towards Eric who used the heels of his boots to scamper backwards along the linoleum floor. Katherine intervened, stepping in between them.
"ENOUGH!" She shouts, shaken, staring right into her husbands brown eyes. She buys Wayne those few seconds to look back at her, and away from their son, before she too landed a loud hand smack across Wayne's cheek. In turn, Wayne straightened up. That easy. Eric stood from off the ground, taking this opportunity to not waste another second gawking at them and ran upstairs with a slam of the bedroom door.
"He's our son." Katherine said protectively.
``Well, he needs to be taught some manners. You didn't beat enough sense into him as a kid.``
Eric can hear them bicker, and he takes a seat at his desk to catch his breath. He feared he might implode at any second, the edges of his vision tearing off into nothing but red as he tunnels in ahead of him. God. He wanted so badly to punch a hole right in that wall, but he manages to control himself, his vision blurring out completely now. He manages to not even scream at the top of his lungs, but it takes fingernails digging into skin to get that much composure. Eric was constantly dealing with the dull and tiring life of having a boring job and being young with so much to live for, and with no one to hold in the only ways he knows how. How quickly those desires turned to how he'd be sitting up on that roof of the school, with a bottle of Liquor and gazing at the night sky— he likes how blurry the stars get when he starts to fade into a drunken doze. He knew he wasn't supposed to be up there, but it was his happy place.
All those shining balls of light, shrinking tinier the further away you get. Oh, to see them up close. That night in particular, before the wave of the everything came crashing down around him like a blizzard, leaving everyone in the cold, he'd been listening to a song through tiny ear buds nestled in his ears... Under The Milky way Tonight. It wasn't his type of music, but it was something that fit his soundtrack.. his lifestyle, regardless of how hard, and how fast, and how violent he wound up becoming `IN` or `OUTSIDE` of his own head.
`What do you think about when you look at the sky at night, when there's no clouds out, and you can see all the stars`?
Along with the pressure of wanting to be someone `desirable`, he had lost himself. Sometimes, he hardly could recognize his own reflection in the mirror staring back at him. All the shapes were trying their best to look like him up there, where he pictured the universe to be safest above the clouds, so Eric gives them a helping hand, imagining his face becoming present, and clearer in the night sky. He thinks of that picture of him with his hair, dark blonde, uncut, growing below shoulder length, and tucked behind his goofy ears. How he smiled that day... It was real.
He wonders if his friend Dylan thought about that day as much as he did. The day he and Dylan went messing around out in town for a while, and had been gone for damn near four days. His mom, who was undoubtedly scared for her son the moment he walked in through that door, and Eric had learned not to blame her as much as what he did his father since he had never seen a love like hers, nor ever heard the words: We need to talk. She never minded that Eric refused to open up, but her words came too late...
`We need to talk`
was what she had written alongside a few other things on a post-it note stamped to the freezer. She said for him to call her, and in his heart he had the gut wrenching feeling that she already knew what was about to take place, and instead... he never did. He couldn't think of uttering a single word to either of his parents the night before when they had sat down together at the dinner table like a real family, for the first time in years... so why would he feel that he had any last words to say to her out of the blue now?
What would he say? What could he expect from them to understand him? Things were so much simpler when he was a kid, before Kevin got drafted, and made him feel as though he had nothing left in this world to live for. The continual ache of grief that had gotten worse, since loss did not stop for a year for him to catch up on any other losses before. They built up over time, and began to weigh Eric down. His older brother was the final straw to that melt-down. He doesn't blame his mom or his dad for the shit they tried to keep him from knowing but Eric still despised that they shoved him inside of a closet to keep him completely guarded from the rest of the world like he was some sacred deer. Eric was still young when Kevin would sit in his room and watch him sleep. He'd have this crooked grin on his face because Eric looked so peaceful laying there.
Kevin remembers the sound of his breathing, how at ease he seemed to be, miles away from bed but still tangled up in his sheets. Sometimes Eric would awake to his older brother watching him leave the bedroom silently. He'd peer through the slits of his tired eyes shrouded beneath messy, thick hair, observing his older brothers shadow until the door closed and it reunited him with the darkness of his room. Outside of a little night light subtly peering through the planets it was encased in. Eric had this idea to make things work, his heart was broken as was his mentality, but he'd digress, by this time in life so was everyone's.
He had forgotten about everything, his purpose, what he was living for- he even said, 'fuck ambition'. Eric believed ambition wasn't ambition, it was to be fate working their lives into it's own hands and come what may. Like letting go of the handle bars of his bike. Whenever Eric used to ride his bike, it was the only time that he felt free. The bike was in control. Nothing could touch him. It took him fast away from the stuff that bothered him, all fast downhill and he could just lift his feet from off the pedals.
He was asleep behind the wheel, letting the long, winding road pull him wherever it wanted to go. It could be late at night, and he remained feeling safe. Curled in his sheets, resting his head in the clouds, eyes closed against the moonlight and either of his arms draped off the edges of the bed. In the air. Far, far away, until that door closed. Until he'd fallen off the bike. Then he picked himself back up, then he went back to sleep, and never slept better in his life.
Kevin doesn't have to be here, he didn't have to watch over his baby brother like a hawk. Eric's always had it. It's all a matter of time that he can prove it. Though, he'd like to think that this was all acts of fate, the continual brush by of another figure in the hall... a repetitive notion tinkering away, starting to build this world up of their own up out of nowhere that surrounded them, the `goal` and Dylan. While it may have appeared on the surface that peers and circumstances brought this very moment into existence, the reality of it was destiny. And, he wouldn't have it any other way. His dad once asked Eric how'd he wind up with a kid with zero ambition? Eric had told him not to worry about that part, that he's working on it.
v.2.Feb.16: ``"I do believe that my entire life has been spent preparing me for this very moment." Harris had told the camera that night, revealing just one of the many guns in his bedroom left behind to him from his brother. "Look at it, ain't she a beauty? Her name is Destiny..." He informs his dead audience, "Do you believe in Destiny? Ha. Because Destiny has called, she has summoned me. The forces of nature has converged and brought me to this point of... revelation. Enlightenment! I have officially found the secret to *true* happiness. And what might that be, you ask?" Harris places a lingering kiss onto the barrel of his gun and said; "Death."``
It was a slow, torturous downward spiral and Eric couldn't do anything to stop it. His depression was beginning to get the worst of him. Thank God for drugs. Thank God for Dylan. If fate has it, and it's real, he wanted to ask him: "Do you believe in fate?". Whether he's parroting a line from Mickey Knox or asking him that genuine question of whether or not they were shoved into this hall of hell for every right reason that included drawing them closer together as inseparable lovers, he wanted to know. He wanted to hear the resounding `yes`. Fate was to make them this way. These moments will be lost in the depressions and caverns of the humans books forever like tears in the rain, but the thoughts will be eternal. To explain the happiness is impossible even for fate.
It was all a joke. It had to be. Right? That eventually, Eric will wake up and it will all be over. That this was all just one hell of a wild fever dream, and he'd just have to sweat off a high temperature to come through to the other side. Reality. That of which is a warm gun, one that he convinced himself in the dream that he can stare down the barrel of, and still remain alive and intact since nothing is real in this world. Nothing ever really is. The game is rigged, life is a virtual reality, and that if he actually wanted to put his hand through a table, he can put his hand through a table. The surface isn't really a surface, and it's made up out of a thousand tiny splinters... it's all in your head.
Nobody is alive! Everybody is already busy being dead. He can fall asleep and be awake, and awake he is still dreaming. Waking up is the hardest part too, since all that weight falls back down onto you... Eric is imprisoned in his own nightmare. Dissociated. Forever chained. The one way he's learned to escape is through music, he can be seen sometimes walking down the hall, completely lost in his own world: blaring a tune in his ears. He's convinced it's a bad joke. Life is. And that in the end, nothing really matters. Thing is, he wants to matter... he wants to believe in life. That this is real.
They will all probably never even know of what exists beyond this made-up world, just like nobody will probably ever know what's inside of his mind, or fully comprehend how his mind works when it grasps hold of `reality`- or this whole `existence` thing. Yet everyone is lacking something that the other possesses- him and nature, nature and Dylan. He lacks the true human nature that his only friend owned and it's likely the reason why he sought in him the yin to his yang. He doesn't fit in this world thinking of how death gives him hope, that he'll some day be in a place wherever he desires to be after this life... that he'd initially no longer be at war with himself, and that this world... or the universe as one might call it otherwise; his mind, body, everything... finally at peace.
This existence will no longer still be monotonous.
He'd not have to go to school, be freaking the fuck out or anxious, hoping that everyone could look passed his flaws and accept him for who he is, and them for what they are. Really though, Eric's upper-to-middle-class parents hardly ever speak to him, and if it was, it was about the basics. About school. But following after that incident of when Mom asked what the matter was, and why she's starting to see how much her little boy has changed- Eric was practically too ashamed to tell her about those ketchup dunked tampons flying at him or Dylan in the commons, people making fun of the fact that he is pigeon chested... and why the Gym teacher refused him to be back on the Soccer team. He didn't want to be an even greater disappointment.
So, he kept everything then after in his head. He should have understood better than to have spoken on his issues, but by opening up and talking about them to his parents, irregardless of how much of a fucking douche his dad is, maybe he would have gotten over this depression always clouding his mind.
**FLASHBACK**
"Do you think it's crazy to fall in love?" Dylan asked Eric one day after school. They were both chilling across the street of the school parking lot atop the hood of Eric's car. Eric thought about it less then than what he did later on. "Romeo and Juliet fell in love." He squinted towards the sun, the tiniest and most vague of a grin imprinted on his lips. There was a chill on Eric's face that only Dylan could register as heartache, one that has been covered up by all that darkness over the years. "That sure did end well, didn't it?" Eric chuckled, placing a hand onto his chest and reciting dramatically, "`Thy drugs are quick, thus with a kiss, I die, die, die!`" Raising a clawed hand, he imitates the drop of each tiny bomb with such a big explosion, then hopped off the car to delve down for a rock. It's a decent sized one, now held in the palm of his hand. Eric could nearly see the look on Dylan's face before he'd even imply it. "I'm being serious, Eric." He said.
"Love." What could Eric really say about love, besides that it doesn't exist? "Love is supposedly the whole driving force behind everything that makes humans human." He looks to Dylan, seeing his placid reaction, he's as calm as a lake listening to the low and lonely bristling of the breeze and that is how he knew he had Dylan's attention. "Without love, then what?" Eric turned his head, shouting into the sun, "People will eat themselves!" His voice carried a unique echo, and it's like the world became their stage. Finally, their eyes meet, and Eric continued. "My parents, they were once `supposedly` in love. Now they can't even stand to look at each other."
Dylan watches as his friend turns back away, sometimes it was much too hard to carry the burden of them both. He often felt as though the world was on his shoulders, dragging him down right along with Eric. Even as he responded, he couldn't help but to sound a little less empathetic, "It has to take some work. Maybe it's not as easy as it seems." He said.
"When you get married, you swear an oath, right? ``Til death do us part, I do solemnly swear-,`` blah blah blah, bullshit bullshit bullshit. And then uh, a few years after that, it's all over." Eric shrugged, yet returning the stare he could feel boring into him from his best friend. "I mean? If you swear to something like that then few years after, when it's over... then uh... it's meaningless." Eric's voice remained emotionless, dry, sarcastic all rolled into one. Dylan could feel the hair on his arms begin to raise. How could someone like Eric sound so cruel and full of pain all in the same breath? How could one boy hate the world so much because he hated himself... "If love fails then.." Eric looks back at Dylan, his eyes holding back the undeniable unsaid, "if the one true good thing that exists in this world... fails, then what else is there to keep you from falling apart?" He asks, his voice nearing a whisper. "Love can't save us, Vodka."
Eric crosses over to Dylan, placing the heavy rock into his hand. Dylan wraps his fingers around the bulging, sturdy edges and at long last glances ahead of them, hopping off from the hood of the car and whirling it as hard as he could but supposedly it was the river Jordan holding him backward when he was trying to move forward. Eric laughed, he picks up another rock in unison and they both of them send a couple of rocks soaring; cutting through daylight aimed straight for the windshield of Brooks car. However, it's Eric's that hits the glass. Dylan stands there, his eyes wide as the car alarm goes off. "Holy shit..." he said, and they both laugh. That was one hell of a wake up call.
*
The fight with Brooks on Friday was still pretty fresh in Eric's mind, but it had bought some time for his dark bruises and busted lip to heal some; lit cigarette dangling between his lips as his phone snugly fit between shoulder and ear. After calling and apologizing to Brooks, he decided to try and give Dylan a call too. It didn't take long before the reception picked up and his phone began to ring. The basement of Eric's home was small; it was made out to be what's considered a game room with an even smaller kitchen attached to it for essentially a place to store soda cans, and cold snacks with a microwave and a few work benches to place his stuff that he and Dylan usually tinkered with. The house itself was huge, a two story in a suburban neighborhood, since obviously his parents are both well-to-do and just are hardly ever at the house.
It was honestly relatively clean mostly because Eric didn’t eat too much food and there weren’t any gross wrappers lounging around or food smells. The majority of the mess came from stacks of school books he had accumulated along with scattered pages of notes he'd taken everywhere. It was honestly quite aesthetically nice for any student. He had a few special items like a desktop computer, games, TV, and his student writing desk that was also quite cramped with such books and papers.
Walking around the floor of his basement, Eric nursed a few cigarettes, his boots padding around softly as he walked from one end to the other, pacing in his wait for Dylan to answer the phone and thinking, only pausing to stare at a blank computer screen. There were even a few old school posters stuck up on the wall from a few of his favorite games or movies, like Doom, Natural Born Killers, and even The Matrix- there's also the smaller posters of aliens and the paranormal, also some rebellious art work's he's done that his mother would likely have a heart attack over. But, he had needed to speak with Dylan, and it's surprising that it ever rang three times before cutting to voicemail. Eric had a bad, sinking feeling about this.
``V, answer your fucking phone, asshole.``
Eric quickly hit redial. The simple cut to voicemail this time was all the convincing Eric needed to toss his phone over onto the couch and take a seat onto the desk chair parked in front of his desktop with a sigh. After Dylan left school unannounced the other day, he hadn't heard from him since. Eric and Dylan didn’t hang out much but when they did, it was always a good time. Maybe a couple times a month they would go out doing subtle stuff, like go have a pizza or... do something crazy, or go to paintball games, whatever, but then sometimes he and Dylan would just hang out in Eric's basement getting high on some new weed Eric had bought off somebody and messing around and playing games until they got the munchies. Just being "friends" and daring each other to do stupid things till one of them passed out.
When he really needed Dylan though, he was almost always never around as much as what he used to be. Now, since Dylan wasn't picking up his phone, it's automatically become Eric's responsibility to deal with all this annoyance by himself. They were supposed to be in this together. ``FUCK!`` He yelled, loud enough to be heard by the neighbors dog who began barking through the fence next door. Spinning around in his chair, he slowly took in a breath and clicked on his computer that had been initially on stand-by. No telling how he was going to get back at Brooks for that fight. It was like Eric to hold a grudge, but it's unlike him to not get back at those bullies somehow. The funny thing about it is, he and Brooks used to be friends.
They met back in middle school, and were actually pretty close for the most part, but then Brooks parents saw just how `strange` Eric had become after a while and thought: He's a bad influence! Then `whoosh` that friendship turned to black real fast. Now, it's like Eric never existed in any part of being Brooks first real friend who ever gave a shit- strange enough he's able to sneak around with Dylan. Now, while Brooks gets to live it up with his girlfriend and be the new Captain of the football team, Eric is stuck daydreaming about ways to make him pay for it. On the other hand, he also regrets ever abandoning his and Dylan's friendship during that hard time last Summer. Dylan is smart and attractive and might fool around from time to time, y'know, just like any one at high school would but he was someone Eric admired for a long time. But there was also something about him that he couldn't point his finger on. `Don't let me catch my son being a faggot`. He remembers hearing his drunk dad spew at him one evening during a heated argument about 'boys and girls' of all things.
Ha. Is that what you call them, Dad?
All Eric had to complain about that was: `I'm pigeon chested, if girls aren't into me, then boys won't be either`. Of course to that, Dad was... quiet. Mom, on the other hand, she smiled at her son apologetically, places a hand onto Eric's shoulder and said: `One day, we'll get you that surgery.`
And it never happened.
So all in all, great family life! Great chance at scoring a date for Prom this year, and good will hunting! Life for Eric Harris has been unbelievably frustrating, and he'd be damned to ever lift another bottle of Luvox again. Depression can bend over and lick his boot. Looking at the computer screen, with the browser pulled up, he stares at the blinking cursor for what feels like eons. What was he supposed to look up? How to kill a guy over night? Fuck it. If only his big brother were here and not in the Military, maybe he'd have some suggestions. Then it dawned on him. Eric went and posted Brooks' phone number on one of his online rants, one of two places where he's known to rant at, and that was what he did. Genius. After, he set all games aside to work on his homework that is due Monday morning. School sucks. Point is, the entire world sucks. He hasn't seen Dylan in what felt like years and has been locked inside this basement forced to do homework that he can't focus on for the life of him; clicking away at a pen in his hand. Suddenly it's night time and he gets the idea to put all the crap aside and sleep.