Chapter Text
“Here he comes like a stealing shadow, like a footprint of death into the rooms, stalking the past with freshcut blood in his hands.”
― Sophocles, Electra
5:02 PM - March 14th
The wind seems to touch upon a very important subject in the way it dances and spreads its wings, letting the spring breeze waltz among Rosemeadow high’s rooftop. Here, a boy opens the door, expecting to be alone- yet there is a girl here. Drew raises an eyebrow, hand holding onto the railing of the stairs, and sees a…sight to behold.
The view feels as if it’s an ache like needles- something Drew wouldn’t typically accept, but here he is. A blue ponytail sways in the wind- he screams, but there is a lack of words, only a voice. Don’t! It isn’t him up there, but God he can’t stand watching this happen to a stranger- which is a selfish reason to intervene- he’s well aware.
A girl with periwinkle eyes that are too familiar stares back at him, and gasps, “Oh!” She calls, walking over as if she weren’t about to bend and break onto the concrete stories below moments ago- You don’t deceive me. “I’m surprised to see you up here, uhm…” Tinges of shock and aftermath adrenaline run through him, but he is too bitter to say anything as she fiddles with her hair, “I’m okay, I w-as just admiring the view a little too closely.” The voice crack doesn’t go unnoticed by Drew, but he shrugs it off, once again, Stacy is but a stranger.
He hums in a unconvincing sarcastic manner, but still has his tired, empty eyes widened in fear. “Sure-,” He scoffs in typical Drew fashion, shoveling his hands into his pockets, “-if that’s what you cry over.”
The remark on her puffy, reddened eyes makes her stutter for an excuse- and she comes up empty after a pause, “Well…Uhm, can you not tell anyone else you saw me up here? I mean- I-I’m sorry, it was for a dumb reason anyways.” Admitting it- out loud- it made Stacy’s tongue grow numb with bitterness.
Drew curls his lips into a curious frown- “Nobody kills themself because they felt a little bit off, do they?” He comments, “It’s your story, just don’t be up here again. Don’t do that shit.”- With that, he turns his heel to leave, but she stares after him-
And quickly grabs him by the shoulder, “Wait!” His breath hitches in annoyance- “Can I tell you why? If- Ma-maybe it’ll go away if I tell someone…” The hesitation in her voice, the dancing of the wind that causes blue hair to sway- Drew can’t say no- so she takes his pause and quiet nod as a yes, and continues, “I…My boyfriend, he- he was using me, and he was the one to really- love me.” She stutters, hands smoothing over the folds of her skirt, “We’re still together, but-”
“Well he clearly doesn’t love you that fucking much if he was using you.” Drew spits, then winces at his own harsh words- reminding him too vividly of how he treats the music club, so he continues in a different, almost foreign way of speaking, “-and besides, someone else doesn’t have a say in whenever you live or not.” His words cause a flinch.
A tiny, sad, and empty laugh escapes the girl as she glances over towards the barbed wired fence–what she planned to fall from, “I guess… Well, I-I’ll uhm, go now!” As if she were shoved by an invisible force, the girl stutters and rushes off the rooftop and down the stairs, leaving a conflicted Drew behind.
He’s torn in two; he’s saved a life coming to end his own.
Maybe he’ll try again tomorrow. Surely- surely, this time– nothing can get in the way of this.
┗━ ほろ苦い ━┛
6:02 PM - Same Day.
Murmurs, secretive whispers, and every sort of disturbing paranoia follows Drew when he arrives home. Dad’s home, he realizes, with dread in his mental voice, the cold metal doing nothing to soothe the bottomless pit in his stomach, welling up to a lump in his throat.
As usual at 6:30 sharp, the older Malik is outside, so it is safe to wander the wooden, dreary halls. Cold, Drew thinks, sliding his hand along the expensive white paint, finding himself at his room with a shudder. He doesn’t want to be here. Settling his black backpack upon the ground and taking off his hoodie, he stares into the mirror contemplatively. He looks like shit.
His mother is doing the best she can– the bruising has stopped swelling somewhat, and the scarring isn’t terribly visible. Yet everyday it seems another injury replaces what was once healed. With these scars aligning his upper body- it’s the least concerning in comparison to his broken, empty legs that hurt just to walk with.
Speaking of his mother- familiar heels click down the hallways as she greets her son, placing a soft, gloved hand on his aching shoulder. She’s been mostly mute for the last few years- Drew wonders if it was her choice to be. She still has the same comforting aura, however, evident in the way she runs a loving hand through his hair- the color of which they shared, albeit Drew’s dark brown eyes do not match his mother’s ocean blue. Tesha- his mother- is empty when she stares at the mirror with her son.
Drew loves his mother. The same can be said for his father– no matter what happened. No matter what he did. Tesha takes her hand away from Drew’s shoulder to grab the pain relief cream and bandages, presumably for the new bruising stretching across her son’s left torso.
A punishment, of sorts, from the father he loves dearly.
She tries to be soft- even in the silence of the bathroom- which is rich, and clean and perfect because it’s made of very expensive materials, and yet Drew cannot despise it more knowing the memories he’s spent here.
But as soft as her touch may try to be, it still earns flinches and winces when her gloved hands smooth over belt-like patterns of bruises- not the first, and not the last. She carefully rubs the pain relief cream across the reddened, purple, and black skin- at most a small hiss escapes Drew. Quickly, knowing her son is impatient, she wraps the bandages around him and gives him a hug.
He doesn’t hug back, and she walks away- leaving Drew to feel guilty, seeing how tears fall onto the tiled floors as she walks away. Even after all these years, Tesha still remains a soft, caring mother who yearns for her son to just- be okay.
He can probably invite his friends over later– when his father isn’t home. For now, he wanted to escape his house before more help from his guilty mother was needed. He can convince his friends everything is okay as long as he flashes something expensive.
┗━ ほろ苦い ━┛
8:36 PM - Same Day.
Everything is not okay, Stacy discovers, running through the park with tears in her eyes, words of malice creeping into her ears. You’re just a nuisance, Stacy. I’m not interested in you anymore. Goodbye. I hope you die. It stung– and there was another voice in her head, reminding her– Someone else doesn’t have control over whenever you live or die. Conflicted, she finds herself sobbing her heart out by a bench.
Here, she finds, the silence is eerie. It is cold, and disturbing- as it is only broken by the occasional crow or pigeon- sometimes a cricket. It hurts, it hurts, and it hurts so, so much, recounting all the love she’d given only for it to be given back in pieces.
Her thoughts, however, are interrupted when the bench creaks gently- signifying someone else sat down next to her, so she looks up and makes eye contact with Drew. They’re both in junior year- so she sees him sometimes in the hallways, by a locker annoying Hailey, or talking to Jake.
It’s a little awkward to see him again after he talked her down from a bad- to say the least- idea. “Hey.” She starts, a little smile showing itself, her offhand wiping away tears.
Drew nods in response, and it becomes apparent his hands are trembling, and he is doing everything in his power to prevent his sobs from fall down his cheeks. A hiccup escapes him anyways. Uncharacteristic of him to be ashamed- for him to turn away- but Stacy didn’t know Drew enough to know how rare the sight in front of her was.
“Your day hasn’t been much better, has it?” She asks, a sigh leaving her. It had to be 30° or less outside for her breath to show so evidently- “I know I told you about what was bothering me, so…” She fidgets, “Maybe you can tell me?”
His quaking frame tenses, and he scoots away, but he says something, at the very least- “And why would you care?” He asks, almost insultingly so, but Stacy is unfazed and continues.
She’s incredibly positive- usually, and dense as well- so she’s used to these outbursts of sadness that leave her, and so Drew’s insulting yet protective nature doesn’t deter her optimism- “Because! You- you were the guy that told me to back away from the rooftop, weren’t you?” Another nod from Drew- “-So it’s only natural that I want to make sure you don’t do anything like that, right?” A pause of silence followed, and a lump grew in Stacy’s worried throat, but it is ceased when Drew doesn’t stay silent.
He speaks, softly- as he did then, when he stopped her, “It’s Drew.”
“Drew? O-oh, you’re in my English and history classes!” She beams, her tiny smile leading to a grin, “I’m Stacy- i-if you didn’t know- and Drew’s a really cool name, you know!”
Another nod leaves Drew, as his breath turns to puffy, white smoke that floats up into the sky as it seems to disappear.
It’s silent. Spring was slowly rolling about, and yet the season of peace had never felt so misplaced. It was wrong, everything was wrong- Drew wishes he was a character in a story of sorts, because then the weather would be written to match with the plot’s direction. Then again, it is egotistical to presume he’d be a main character. What does he know anyways?
His watch reminds him it’s late at night, and he glances over to Stacy, “It’s dangerous to walk home alone here– crime is high.” He explains, standing with a smug grin resting on his face, “So you better get going.” Yet this smug expression is quickly replaced with confusion when Stacy lights up at his reminder.
“So, you do care!” She laughs, “Can you walk me home? I think I live nearby you!”
A sigh leaves Drew, “Yeah, yeah…” The girl rolls her eyes at his sarcasm, playfully nudging him as they walk towards the streets lined with giant housing- a little surprised to know he wasn’t the only one with rich parents, he pauses as Stacy begins to walk towards one of the mansions. “This your house?” He asks, and an ecstatic grin leaves her.
“Yeah! Thanks for walking me, my parents would’ve worried. See you tomorrow!” It wasn’t a question- it made Drew feel a little better, knowing someone waited for him to force his bruised body out of bed. Not that he’d admit it.
If only he had the optimism Stacy had, she seemed content just to breathe alongside someone else- and yet so close to ceasing her own heartbeat. The difference between the two moods he’d seen her in just a few moments worried him. It wasn’t his business.
He walks home and is greeted by the sight of his mother’s hair being pulled from her scalp, magenta strands falling onto the floor as fists fly. He listens to his mother and runs upstairs, curls in a ball, and is oddly numb to it all.
But his father always found him. No matter how hard Tesha tried to protect her son, it was always in vain, and it’ll repeat tomorrow.
Nobody needed him, so he’d come back to the rooftop in a few days. Just a few more, and he can be free. Just a few more days until Drew Malik unexpectedly takes his own life, leaving a scarred and abused husk of a body behind.