Wanna Kiss Me Back? - NaNoWriMo Entry

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Mitchel bolted out of the school as fast as he could, moving swiftly as if he were a part of the breeze, his ability to weave through crowds flawless that day. He knew that Noel might be waiting to see him and catch up. He knew Noel would have realized he was upset and pressed him about it until he cracked. That’s why he ran, to avoid all the hard conversations, the sympathetic looks and the feeling of being vulnerable. Every meeting of his foot with the hard ground’s thumping rang out like bullets as his running scattered the crowds, wild birds reacting to the gunshot noises he made with his feet. They turned to look at him; the people scared, confused, and annoyed that they had to move from their comfortable nests on the street to accommodate some out of control teenager. But he did not mind them, they were right. His life was out of control recently. His friends and he had a simmering tension that permeated their relationship, poisoning it until they finally cracked on his today, more or less letting go of him. He found himself the target of people’s unbridled hatred, often having nothing to do with anything about him besides the fact that he was there and he was weakened. He no longer had his strong will or his large group of friends and acquaintances to back him up. He only had Noel, the cause of all this. As Mitchel ran he tried to make the same anger that exploded and spewed lava inside him about everything else spill over towards his feelings about Noel. No matter how hard he tried though, he could never see Noel as an enemy, an obstacle to be avoided, a problem that needed a solution. Though the boy caused trouble for him since the moment of his arrival, Mitchel had nothing but good will towards him. Which only made his confusion worse and his anger misshapen and relentlessly cruel.

The tears had already fought the long war towards the surface of his eye when he reached his house, frantically searched for his key and unlocked the door unsteadily. Once open, he flung the door hard, stretching the limited of its metal hinges, before slamming it just as harshly so he could let the tears flow down his heated, read cheeks without being stared at. It was the first time in a long time he had cried, the feelings he had buried joining the recent grief to create multiple waves of regret, depression, anger, self-loathing, and dark humour that produced an endless supply of tears more bountiful than any feast. He made his way up the stairs slowly, each memory surfacing taking more of his strength and will to live away. He was glad that his mother was out so she did not have to see the mess he had made of himself, a messy pile of uncooperating limbs trying to drag themselves out of sight. He made it up the stairs by crawling over the growing puddles of water on each step and pushing the door just by the stairs open. Once inside his room, his safe haven and solitary confinement, Mitchel gathered his little remaining strength and plunged for the bed. He hit the soft sheets and the fluffy comforter, his head digging itself a hole in the pillow. The pillow case was soon translucent with the tears.

Mitchel had never felt so pathetic in his life. If being broken up with by the one girl he had ever felt anything for was not the worst part, the incredible yearning for what Ellie and Jordan said about him liking Noel not to be true was like shooting out his body one piece of flesh at a time. He liked Noel but he did not want to love Noel, it was hard enough being friends with everyone’s disapproval. He had already been an outcast once, had everyone turn their back to him and he knew that going away was supposed to change that. It did until he started being stupid, started to care for himself again. He was the guy everyone could come to and that was why no one bothered him, being he was normal and approachable. But with Niko and Dion’s incredible dislike of Noel, they had effectively made him an outcast as well. None of it would have been so wrong if Ellie and Jordan had not acted like they were done with him as well. Reinventing himself was meant to keep friends not lose them.

As he fell deeper into his personal circle of  hell, his private party for pity and despair wrecked his body that now shivered and thrashed as he let out muffled screams into his soaked pillow. The salted water seeped into the cotton left a foul taste as his tongue brushed the pillow during his screams. This bitterness sustained his manic-depressive state. The walls normally white and shiny with vitality, now blurred and reshaped into ugly images in his water clogged eyes. The soft bed had lost its comfort, feeling sunken, rough and warm from the still and the thrashing tearing at the thinly stitched fibers to fray them. He felt himself losing breath with his face buried in the pillow that had no circulation. He toyed with the idea of continuing to breath nothing until at last he passed out, or died, and was done with the pain but being afraid, he turned to lie on his side, his hands coming above and below the pillow in front of his head to cradle and protect himself. The hand he had closest to his head now made its way to lie there flat, blocking out the outside world, before curling forward the skin of his forehead and cheek to an almost pinching manner in frustration.