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Anywhere’s better than home.
So, being totally and uncharacteristically responsible for once, Kevin picked his ass up and decided to finally go to school. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.
Certainly a lot more favorable than flushing out his brain cells with Molson and cheap tobacco, though he’s not quite sure that there are any left now.
Not that he minds.
Kevin thinks school is alright when he doesn’t have to do anything. More often than not, he shuts his brain off for a class or two before spending the rest of the afternoon in a random janitor’s closet.
That’s how he prefers it. Gliding by; tolerating the noise for just a little while before slowly sinking back into his own zone.
Everywhere, all the time. Basically a routine by this point. It’s nothing new. Nothing’s new. Ever.
But Kevin’s not all too bothered.
He arrives at his desk on time, met by scattered giggles as he hesitantly sits down. He can never tell if the laughter is directed at him or not.
“Talk about a fuckin’ eyesore.”
..Surely that isn’t directed either.
“I know,” Another distant snicker follows, “You almost feel sorry for him. Probably doesn’t realize how freakish he looks.”
Surely not..
“Probably can’t realize.”
Right?
Kevin stares blankly ahead, hoping that he’ll eventually zone out and forget all of the horrifying things being said– presumably about himself.
Do they realize he can hear them? Is that what they want? It seems a bit cruel, but not too surprising. Teenagers can be ruthless when they’ve decided to place you beneath them.
Perhaps he does appear somewhat freakish when he’s unable to remain still, as he does now. He glances towards the front of the room, then out the window, unfazed by its bright morning glare.
Truthfully, Kevin can’t say he knows what it’s like to be normal. Between many years of substance abuse, and a complete lack of awareness from his folks, he never really had a chance to begin with.
He’d probably pity himself, if not for his fragmented brain. Or maybe he’d still be indifferent.
Can’t say it’d mean much either way.
Soon after, the bell rings, and an all too familiar face enters the classroom a second late. Kevin pretends not to acknowledge the taller boy as he takes a seat, nor the sea of hushed laughter that reignites with his presence.
Timmy McNaughton; the only person Kevin can’t seem to form a solid, definite opinion of.
It’s not like he hasn’t tried, but there’s no simple way to describe how he feels about the other boy. No ‘love’ or ‘hate’, no specific words come to mind. It’s a bit more layered than that.
There’s really no one who understands his situation better. As far as he’s concerned, the two of them are as insignificant as dirt in the public education system, and pretty much everywhere else. And that isn’t totally a bad thing. Fitting in has never been a necessity.
But it’s nice to be understood at least once, Kevin thinks.
Wavy blonde hair, streaked eyeliner, decked out with chunky bracelets and spikes– Timmy really is a sight to behold. Cool, very stylish. Almost enviable, if only he could feel such a way.
He’d better not stare for too long, though. Kevin gets enough crude names tacked onto him, ‘fag’ doesn’t need to be one of them.
“You’re late,” The teacher comments harshly, arms crossed like some sort of mean statue.
Timmy leans back in his seat. He doesn’t appear bothered in the slightest. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
“Nothing. Just be quiet for today,” She grits, “Be a little more like tight-lip over there.”
And the mean-spirited giggling resumes once again.
Kevin knows he’s not the smartest tool in the shed, but he doesn’t need any critical thinking skills to understand that she’s referring to him. Twenty-something students in a class, and he’s the one who suffers.
Shouldn’t it be the other way around? He tends to cause trouble elsewhere, but he isn’t doing anything wrong here. At least, he doesn’t think he is.
Whatever.
Before Kevin zones out completely, he glances back at Timmy, who–to his surprise–appears to be glancing back. There’s something unreadable in his expression. Perhaps sorrow, or maybe pity. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t need any of it.
He’s always been just fine on his own.
__**__
Kevin slowly enters the main hallway after leaving class. He decided rather early that he was tired, so he’ll probably find somewhere else to hang out for the rest of the day as planned. Having to pay attention is such a chore.
..And it looks like his locker has been vandalized once again. How great.
Ignoring the damage, he opens it, only to find something especially peculiar waiting for him.
It’s.. a folded piece of paper? Probably another note from someone begging him to just hurry up and become a statistic. Those are nothing new.
But he might as well read it anyway.
I hate how they treat you. If I had it my way, they’d all be gone.
I could be your savior.
Come find me.
~T
Interesting.
Kevin stares at the nice message for a moment, and for some reason, he can feel his chest beginning to tighten as his eyes continue to scan each word carefully.
He already knows who it’s from. Of course he does.
What the hell is that conceited, dork of a fruit trying to accomplish? How can he be sure that the boy he’s thinking of actually wrote this? For all he knows, this could be part of some elaborate scheme to get him alone and vulnerable. The invitation to 'come find him' is certainly an ominous one; anybody could've been behind it.
However, Kevin figures he doesn’t have much to lose anyway if those assholes do try to beat him up or humiliate him again. Might as well go figure out who’s really behind this.
He folds the note back up and puts it in his pocket before setting off.
The halls are mostly empty by now, a fact that Kevin couldn’t be more grateful for as he casually makes his way towards the back door and swings it open without incident. Feels nice to simply exist without being trivialized.
Kevin walks around to the tiny, underfunded sports ground, where the school has neglected to add any cameras. It’s the perfect place to smoke, he thinks. And he’s pretty sure he’s witnessed a few drug deals happen here.
It seems to be completely empty at the moment.
Well, with one exception.
“Hey, Spencer.” Timmy is there, leaning against a rotting fencepost with that stupid duffle bag slung over his shoulder. “If I’d have known a note was all I needed to get you out here, I would’ve written it a long time ago. How’ve you been, man?”
Kevin just shrugs half-heartedly. Obviously, he hasn’t been great, and Timmy should know that. He’s being dense on purpose; what a geek.
A gust of wind rustles his jacket a bit as he reaches into one of the pockets to grab his smokes. The other boy immediately perks up. “Ooh, hand me one.”
Reluctantly, Kevin does. Usually he’s not too keen on sharing, but at least Timmy is a lot less overbearing compared to his parents and Allen.
And he’s been nothing but nice–albeit usually in a condescending way–thus far.
“Thanks,” Timmy grins, pulling a lighter out of his jean pocket.
Kevin allows the corner of his lip to peek up slightly, as if to say: don’t mention it. He’s never been great at expressing himself with words, or expressions, or any way at all. A lot of people call him weird for it, but he never knows what they expect him to do.
For others, it’s as simple as smiling or frowning, laughing or crying. The creases on those passing faces tell him everything he needs to know, and he can identify those looks on anybody else.
Just seems a little.. odd when he does it. Maybe he’s just used to his own placid demeanor. Anything else would be too unnatural for a guy such as himself.
“So,” The taller boy takes a drag off his cigarette, allowing a puff of smoke to enter the air before he speaks again, “guess we should probably talk about… y’know. That. Right?”
Kevin simply shrugs again.
“I just.. feel sorta bad for you. Is that wrong of me? Those jerks always pick on you, and it boils my blood that no one ever says anything in your defense.”
Because clearly you can’t looms over Kevin’s head like a vile, shameless cloud. Of course, those words weren’t said, but they don’t need to be. He knows they’re there. They always are.
He rolls his eyes, trying not to make it obvious.
It’s not Timmy’s fault that he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t expect anybody to know how it feels. The words are there in his mind, but his throat just can’t push them out. One of the many things that’s wrong with him that he can’t help but despise.
“Uh. You okay?”
Kevin flinches a bit, just now realizing that he was too enveloped in his own thoughts again. Still, he manages to nod.
Timmy lets out a breathy chuckle. “Just spaced out for a second there, huh?”
Yet another shrug.
“Wish I could understand what goes on in that brain of yours, Spencer.”
Me too.
He desperately wishes he could say back. Because half the time, he doesn’t know either.
He doesn’t know much, does he?
Can hardly identify,
this weird feeling in his chest.
It'd be better for both of them if it didn't exist.
He’ll just brush it off for now. It’s probably nothing, anyway.
Kevin goes back to numbing the rest of his thoughts with more smoke, since there’s not much else for him to do.
Meanwhile, it seems like a new thought has just occurred to Timmy. “Being honest, you and I aren’t so different. We both get picked on by everyone for being ‘strange’. We.. we know what it’s like, y’know? We get it.”
He’s got a point. For once, Kevin fully agrees with the blonde boy. They’re both treated like outcasts by their classmates, and it’s hard to ignore the bias from teachers, too. It often feels like everyone else is against him. Timmy must feel the same way.
“And.. I dunno. A small part of me says I deserve it,” Timmy continues. He’s beginning to sound kinda sappy, “Like, if I wanna be happy later in life, I might as well get this outta the way now.”
Now, that sounds slightly unrealistic. Even if Timmy suffers through the rest of high school, there’s no guarantee that bad things will suddenly stop happening to him once it’s over.
Kevin has already accepted that he’ll likely never know what it truly means to feel happy. Even just the essence of joy feels like too much to ask for. He can get close, but it’ll never feel as real as it should.
Though, this might as well be a start, he figures.
“Maybe we could help each other out? Like, if you need someone to rely on, I could be that someone. And vice versa, I guess.”
That sounds fair, so Kevin allows himself to nod. He still wonders why Timmy is being so kind all of a sudden. Usually, the two only exchange a few glances, never for very long. One-sided streams of conversation tend to be fewer and further in between.
This is new, and different. He isn’t really sure how to feel, but he’ll give it a try.
It may be strange, but at least he’s not entirely alone now.