Chapter Eight

ANDREW'S P.O.V.

I woke up to the soft patter against my window, where I had dozed off last night; waiting. My sight was a bit bleary and the lack of sleep consequences greeted me in the form of a conking headache scratching at my temple. I looked out, to the slight splatter of water droplets scattered messily against the window's glass, it was only the beginning of dawn, and the rain was so negligible it would probably stop by the time I have to head out to school.

The sound brought a sense of calmness to my distressed mind, soothing over my interlinked thought but not enough to dissolve them. Where had I gone wrong? I pondered again and again but I knew the answer already. Another night of waiting gone for nothing. It had me wondering; had I imagined it all?

It seemed real, he felt real. Was it because I talked? Had I stayed silent, would have he come back? I rubbed my temple, a strong yawn escaping me, this is too much of pointless thinking so early in the morning. I focused on the melody of rain and nature as they sang a duet of soothing lullabies. Another sleepless night has gone to waste for a silly proof. Why does everything need evidence to be proven? Why can't we take each other's word for it? I heaved a sigh at the stupidity of the question and stretched the sore muscles of my arms, neck, and back to release the tension. Why do I want to prove it to anyone anyway? I know what I saw!

I ruffled my disheveled hair, noting the growing length; I'd have to trim it soon, and puffed out air in slight frustration; this has been the first thought I get when I wake up and the last before I fall asleep. I've told my mother, she snickered at me when I did and told me to stop engrossing myself in those imaginative movies. It irked me, how easily my parents brushed it off. I'm not one to work for attention. If ever, I try to avoid it. And my father obviously sided with my mother on their "active mind of mine" claim. Whatever, I know I'm telling the truth so it's all fine, right? My eyes darted to my position on the windowsill and the camera I had prepared... I guess not.

Agh. I need to stop. I decided on a shower to wash off the leftover drowsiness. Also to wash off the sweat of the previous day. I much preferred morning showers rather than night showers. Who likes sleeping with their hair wet? I was greeted with a miserable state of a reflection as soon as I flipped on the lights to my ensuite bathroom and glanced in the mirror, my eyes red and burning, the bags underneath too heavy, probably the lack of sleep. It's not like I had perfect skin, by any means, I sneak out more times than anyone would guess. And as a junior high student, dark circles are kind of on-brand for most. Except for girls who cake up way too much makeup, or those students who actually get their eight hours of sleep like the goody two shoes they are.

Speaking of girls, where is my phone? I left my toothbrush hanging as I searched for it on my not so tidy countertop. I'm usually a clean freak, but I've been too lazy lately. I couldn't find it, so I assumed I had left it charging outside on my desk. Oh right I haven't even grabbed it yet, why did I think I had it on me? Must be the lack of sleep. Since I had time, I decided to shave the almost unnoticeable five o'clock shadow I had. I didn't like it, it made me feel older than I am. Like I'm twenty or something when I still have two years to miss around before then. Blame it on my father's genes. It runs in the whole family actually. All males are slightly more masculine once we hit puberty. Nothing wrong with that, it just made it harder to blend in since everyone just assumed I'm that manly guy- which I am, but I hate the stereotyping of it.

The first alarm of the day blared out, loud enough for me to hear, but not loud enough to reach my parents on the other side of the house. Thank goodness for thick walls and distance; I can let it ring for as long as I want, otherwise, I'd have to get out and turn it off, and I'm in no mood for that. Already half-undressed and drained of all energy. Good thing I chose a softer song though. I'm not hard to wake up, but I like to coax myself out of sleep rather than jolting myself awake. Unnecessary adrenaline, if you ask me. I continued undressing then hopped into the shower, turning the water on to a suitable temperature before I grabbed one of my honeycomb body scrubbers and squeezed some shower gel on top. Loofahs are overrated honestly. Who'd waste ten dollars on a piece of sponge that only soaks water and does nothing to exfoliate your skin? Also, you have to change it every month? Huh. I think not. Why am I even thinking about these things? God help me, I still need my sanity.

"Drew? Did you wake- Oh? Drew?" I was in the middle of the process of washing my hair- thoroughly may I add, do you know how much bent up dirt collects there when you don't clean it well enough? - When I heard my mother's voice, alongside the tune of the second alarm, she must have heard it and wondered why I hadn't turned it off, "I'm in here ma!" I yelled over the water, rubbing my hair away from my face, careful to not get any lather in my eyes. I heard her say something but I didn't catch it, the tune stopped and then seconds later the door closed.

I slid open the, now steamed up, glass door and grabbed my robe and a face towel and off the hook, I wiped my face and dried myself up, then pulled another hand towel for my hair. By the time I stepped into my room again; the third alarm was blaring on full blast but I didn't rush to turn it off, rather walked slowly like a deceasing living-dead. I picked out what I was going to wear in my mind before finally picking up my phone from the charger, I turned off the alarm and looked into my notifications to find a text from both Matt and Logan. I scoffed before clicking it off and throwing it in the general direction of my bed. I didn't hear a crack, rather a soft thud so I can safely say it landed on my bed.

I opened my mini walk-in closet, finally ridding myself from my robe and hand towel, hanging both on the hock at the back of the door and pulling on a pair of boxers. I made sure I had deodorant and perfume on before putting on my clothes, I ended up with a lazy outfit, a complete contrast to what I had originally planned but I honestly cannot bother. A black tee and some sweats but not sweats-pants have to suffice. I ran my hand through my hair then proceeded to get into some socks and my black pair of combat boots.

Logan, my brother, resorted to laughing to his heart's content when I told him over the phone. It came extremely in handy that he wasn't home at the moment and rather stuck in a teeny tiny dorm room at his university, or else I would be teased until the end of time. Or until one of us eventually end the other. And although we're two years apart, I can safely say I'm more mature than that buffoon. But caught in a pity childish argument, I told him I'd prove it to him. Resulting in my current state of sleeplessness. All for a dumb video. But that's okay, I've got something on him too.

A yawn escaped me as I pulled my backpack from my desk chair, I made sure I had some cash on hand and my headphones then grabbed my phone and got out of my room. It's still very early, with the sun barely shining into the corridor. I descended down the stairs in slow and heavy lazed steps and left my bag by the door before getting into the kitchen. I usually am content with just an apple. But I'm too early to head to school on an empty stomach. Also, all that thinking had me hungry. "Good morning." I somewhat mumbled but it was still coherent for both my parents to reply back.

"You're up early." My dad pointed out as soon as I was seated, I merely glanced at him before a yawn ripped itself out from my mouth, "Yeah, I was conscious sleeping all night. So I got up on my first alarm." And although I woke up way before that, they don't need to worry. He placed a plate that consisted of one sunny-side-up egg, a few cheese-flavored crackers and a couple of berries, down in front of me, he knows I like to keep it light, and after those mornings of constant vomiting every time he forced one more spoonful down my throat, he finally understood and accepted it. I glanced up when he placed a cup of steaming hot black coffee right beside my plate, "You look like you need It." he clarified when he met my confused stare. My dad didn't appreciate my 'addiction' to coffee so he usually allowed me a diluted cup of coffee. I'm speaking one shot to four or five teaspoons creamer.

"Are you okay, Andrew? You have bags under your eyes." My mum looked at me from the other end of the table, just as dad got on his chair, making him look at me for an answer as well. Thanks for pointing the obvious mum. I literally just said I was conscious during my sleep all night, which didn't even happen because I was trying my best to stay awake waiting for something that might never come to get you a damn proof. After all, you people are rationalistic fools who won't trust their son's words. I shoved all of that sarcasm down my throat and smiled at her, making sure I swallowed before replying "don't worry ma. School stress, is all." She nodded and I took my last bite so I was able to excuse myself from the table.

"You are going already? It's early. Your friend isn't here yet." I was putting my plate in the sink with my back was to my mother, so she didn't see the scowl that itched at my face when she mentioned Mathew. That halfwit. When I told him what I saw that day his reply was "are you on drugs?" and no matter what I told him the fucker strongly believed I was under the influence of substances and swore an oath to never let me attend any party alone. I was, and still am, pissed that he just assumed I was an addict so simply when the most I did was smoke a cigarette under the bleachers in sophomore year, and he was the one to offer it. I'm ignoring him, which is why I'm going to walk to school. Just glamorous. "Mathew won't be able to drive me today so I'm just going to walk." My back pocket, where my wallet that had my unused driving license burned in fictitious heat. She didn't detect the lie, nor did she need to know the full thing. Some things are just meant to be kept away from my parents. And she already dislikes him-or rather his beliefs- thus far. My mum was nodding when I turned around so I nod back and headed to the door.

I lingered by the door, not really ready to face the bright sun, I scrolled some random sites on my phone when I remembered who I had for the first period; math. Gosh, I hate my troll of a teacher. Not to be disrespectful, but he's overly short and old -and not to mention, a total prick-to be my teacher. He's that one teacher that will send you to detention for the hell of it. God forbid you sneeze or drink water in his class or he'll, somehow, get you suspended from his class. Not that anyone was ever eager to see his face or hear his voice but math affects the final GPA so freaking much.

Now that I think about it, maybe I should just skip his class, I mean I'm too tired to put any brainpower into the nonsense he calls 'problem-solving'. I mean I'd totally be grounded for the rest of the year and ma won't let me live it down... Nah it's not worth it. I'd just sit at the back and pretend to take notes while napping. Works every time. With that, I stuffed my phone back into my pocket before unlocking the front door, "Ma, pa, I'm heading out!" I yelled out before I got out of the house. I didn't bother locking it since my parents have yet to leave. Turning around I was faced with the bright whiteness of our neighbor's, Emily, house. It stuck out since, other than my house, most of the houses around are painted an off-white smoky color. I remembered the incident a few days ago when I went to her for help but instead saw my angel inside her house. I was slightly concerned with Emily's safety and I have got no clue how he got there in the first place. But I dared not mention it to her. She wouldn't believe me anyway. I rolled my eyes when Mathew's words bounced off in my head.

Why I needed her help? Well, that day my dearest mother decided to cook for her guests. And she cannot cook. She simply can not-which is why my father was the one to make me breakfast.- And while we will force the food down our throats, we being me and my father-and on the rare occasions when my brother bothers to visit-, and would tell her that it turned out good, her guests won't do the same. We're also not ready to take responsibility for food poisoning.

It's a very sensitive topic for my mother, by that I mean she doesn't take it well when things don't go her way. For example; last Christmas, around thanksgiving my mum accidentally forgot the stuffed chicken in the oven, and while it turned out quite edible my father made the grave mistake of mentioning the ashy taste of the burnt flesh. Mum then went and blamed the oven for not stopping when the chicken was cooked enough.

I remember waking up that day too early because of the commotion in the kitchen when I got out of my bedroom, I met my father by the stairs with the same look of panic on his face. He was half petrified to death when we found mum a complete mess in the kitchen and after she explained, my dad almost begged me with his eyes to do something. She wanted to impress her colleagues with some fancy Italian dish when we're not even Italians! I resorted to getting help from our trusty neighbor, Emily, since she works at a restaurant, and her cooking is phenomenal. I know because I tasted all types of muffins from her.

After the, completely disrespectful, constant knocking I did; I got no response whatsoever but I saw a shadow move so I went to her backyard, praying she had ear-buds in and isn't already out of the house, but instead of her, I found the angel in her kitchen. He tried to hide when our eyes met, but he ended up knocking something off, it emitted a loud noise that confirmed to me that I was absolutely not hallucinating and that all traces of the few shots I had the other day were gone. I had waited by the window for a while after he had ducked behind the counter, but he never resurfaced. And I was left wondering if I had imagined the whole thing.

By the time I was back home, my father was thankfully able to convince her to let him cook or order something and we were saved from the embarrassment.

My thoughts shifted towards the first time I saw him, I was coming back home half-drunk from Albert's party. Nearing the back of my house, I saw something flying down from my window. Which I had left unlocked because I kind of... sneaked out to attend the party. I had shrugged it off and continued walking-stumbling- down the pavement, thinking it was only my imagination.

Just when he walked under one of the, narrowly lit, streetlights; did I see him for who he was, what he was. Admittedly, I was seeing double of everything but even my daubed sight caught the majestic wings hanging off his back, I had fussed around in search of my phone but I couldn't find it-nor correctly get my hand through the front pocket, to begin with, so I just stood still and watched. Waiting for him to notice me.

He did, and it was as if everything slowed down when his vibrant blue eyes connected with mine, real or not he was ethereal. So beautiful. Nothing like I've ever seen on any magazine, buzzed or maybe for the fact he was so distractingly attractive, I couldn't move my eyes away from him. From the shadow cast on him I could only see his somewhat high cheekbones, round nose, and plump doll-like lips, maybe it's the fact his baby fat hasn't left him yet, or the innocence the appeared in every line in his perfectly symmetrical features, that held me so captivated. My legs didn't move as I tried to get them to, neither did my hands. I knew my brain was sending signals to every limb, or maybe it was my heart, as the steps I took were the opposite of what I had implied, like an outer experience, I found myself walking closer to him with each step. Fingers tingling with the need to touch him. A pull I could only feel. I had to hold my breath for a second the moment my palm engulfed his, ever so soft, check. He shivered visibly, and I found myself emotionally pleased at the simultaneous effect. My daring fingers went to the top feathers of his wings, my mind spiraling in curiosity. What was he, were they even real? They sure felt so.

He jolted back the instance the tips of my fingers were in contact with his pure-white feathers, his fiery blue eyes washed out to a stormy aquamarine whirling with confusion, as if his mind couldn't process my presence fast enough, then, just like that; in the short second I took to blink, he was gone. I was barely able to catch a glimpse of his primaries feathers disappearing in the thick darkness of the woods, the bright white nowhere to be seen, as if his wings morphed into black to blend in.

The buzzing in my pocket took me back to where I am, a block away from school. I fetched my phone out and 'Matt' was flashing on the screen, I hit cancel and locked my phone. It might not be all that serious, but I hated how she thought so little of me, just because he wasn't there with me. He had refused to come to the party no matter what I did to convince him otherwise, he was pissed that I went without him too. Just because the host was Albert, one of our classmates. He's a nice kid, but he was also one of the few gays in our school. Mathew never missed a chance to express how disgusted he is with Albert's sexuality, and how the latter was so easily and happily open about it. I grimaced at all the times Mathew insulted him in front of me. I just think it's wrong to judge someone based on their preference. And so I avoided talking about anything remotely similar to matt. He had accused me of smoking some of the marijuana supplied at the party, which, how did he even know it was there? I didn't know! So when I told him what I had seen that night, he was convinced it was Albert's bad influence.

I was mad because as my best friend, he was supposed to know I won't take 'drugs that make you see things' from anyone. And that even if I did, he has to only guide me to stop and not yell and shout about how he should've accompanied me. I'm no kid, and he's no saint either. But I was also quite annoyed with his homophobic bullshit. We ended up fighting, but I honestly don't care.

As I neared the school I can distinctly hear the start-of-the-day ring causing everyone some level of deafness. I feel sorry for the ones who happened to be under the bill when it rang. It's the equivalent of 'in the wrong place, at the wrong time'. I winced when I remembered being there once. I couldn't hear with my right ear for a week. I fastened my steps, I surely took my damn sweet time walking and thinking through everything that I hadn't realized the class I'm in danger of being late to, damn math at seven in the morning.

Walking on sleep-heavy feet, I was just about to enter through the gate when I hear a shout of my name. The mellifluous, high-pitched voice, was too soft to be Mathew's but instead belonged to Emily. Filled with confusion, what is she doing here? I felt my brows connect as I waited for her to catch up, "Aunt Emily, what are you doing here?" she was slightly out of breath but sent a glare my way none the less.

"Drop the 'Aunt' Andrew, I'm not that old! And I need your help." I took a step closer to her, supplying her with my full attention. What could she possibly need my help with so early in the morning?

She pointed to her car with a half-turn, I followed the direction and from this distance, I only saw what could be a figure in her passenger seat, "that's my son, it's his first day and I can't get him to step out of the car," she has a kid? Since when? I only ever saw her and I remember her denying it when my mother asked years ago when she first moved to the neighborhood and gifted us some pastry goods, "I understand it's a challenge for him, nervous for his first day and all, but I believe he would be late if he didn't go in now... so can you, maybe, convince him to go in?"

I wanted to ask more but it seemed somewhat inappropriate so I just left it. I mean it's been what? A decade of her living across the street and not once was anyone in or out of her house besides her. Surely, has he been living there all the time, he would have got out at some point or someone knew of him. Gossip travels quite fast around here. And I can't imagine being cooped up in a house for years. An image of blue eyes flashed in my head but I mentally shook it out as soon as it came. I simply nodded and I distinctly heard her mention his shyness but I paid it minimal attention as I walked to her car. Being late is inevitable at this point.

I knocked once at his window to alert him, before opening the car's door, I was met with a mass of neatly arranged blond locks atop soft features drowned in paleness. He's huddled up in an enormous looking jacket, I was faced with his side profile, as he sat in the far corner of his seat, looking forward. Not acknowledging my presence, and when I tried to get him to look at me, he completely turned his face to the driver's seat. He really is a bundle of bashfulness. I had a strong urge to pull him to my lap and hug his worries out, but I quickly shook that away.

I crouched down and cleared my throat, slightly agitated by the disregard. I'm risking getting detention for you kid! "Hey, what's your name? Mine's Andrew. We will be going to school together," I tried to use a gentle tone, as much of a gentle tone my sleepless-filled head could master. But he has yet to look at me. "Kyle?" His voice was one smooth honeyed whisper, almost questioning. I found myself wanting to hear more of it but I blamed that on being surrounded by crying wales for voices.

"Welcome to school, Kyle. You're going to have lots of fun but only when you step out of the care, can you do that, hmm, for me?" I inwardly cringed, why did I add that? For the 'stranger, you met ten seconds ago'? It was useless either way, I sighed heavily and stood up from my uncomfortable position. I have one last trick up my sleeve, then I'm out; guilt-trip.

"Would you please come out, Kyle? I won't go in unless you're with me. But if we don't go now I'll be late to class and I'll get detention," huhu that's doubtless. "And possibly more trouble." He turned his face towards mine just as I uttering the last syllable, familiar blue irises bursting with worry connected with mine, and I found myself unable to look away. His features much clearer now that he is properly facing me. I felt dizzy as I took in his glistening ocean eyes, blushing cheeks, and inviting pouty pink lips.

God, he's beautiful.