My apologies for the long wait, but chapter three is finally here!

Warnings; check the comments {regarding spoilers} ->

No worries though, this is a happy chapter still:D Enjoy!!

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The stagnant, dust-filled air of the theatre room was something I'd quickly gotten used to. Perhaps because at this point, literally anything was better than the piss-stained streets that I had grown up in. Besides, it's not like the corridors, drenched in a poisonous potion of the world's most expensive colognes and perfumes, made me any happier. I shivered at the thought.

With some random indie song from Reagan's playlist humming through the quiet backgrounds of the place— haha, hi, you've been on my mind— (an annoyingly catchy song, I had to say,) I found myself occupied with my pinterest feed. Different-sized pictures of cute dogs, depressive vents, and random memes scrolled away under my eyes, obtaining an occasional louder-than-usual nasal exhale from me. How fulfilling.

Aside from me, Nyx and Reagan sat at the table covered in stickers and mug stains. Reagan mumbled along to the song lyrics as she happily painted Nyx's nails in a pretty, chrome purple. Nyx, seated on top of the table, hummed to something Reagan said, their black hair bouncing up and down when they chuckled.

My Gen-Z entertainment got rudely interrupted, however, by a notification popping up from underneath my notification window. And in an attempt to swipe it away, I accidentally clicked it and now found myself in WhatsApp. Great. With a sigh, I commanded my brain to activate itself again so I could properly read the actual message.

Maaason 16:02: im being bullied on roblox rn help💀

You've gotta be kidd— Nope, this fucker was seriously texting me while we were in the same room. I flitted my eyes up from my phone, glancing at where Mason sat. Even from the opposite side of the room, I could see he was playing Adopt Me on one monitor, and some random speedrunner obby on the other.

Robbie 16:04: you know I'm in the same room rite

I watched in amusement as Mason's phone pinged and he scrambled to unlock it, causing him to crash against a badly modified tree in the speedrunner. He mouthed something along 'motherfucker' before actually checking his phone, which only took a few seconds before his eyes locked with mine, an unserious grin on his face.

Maaason 16:05: yes :P

I sighed again. In disappointment. Loudly. "I'm starting to understand why they're bullying you," I grumbled, purposely ignoring Mason mimicking me as I clambered up from the comfortable bean bag.

"First of all, fuck you," Mason retorted with his hand in the air, index finger pointing somewhat in my direction as he had his back turned to me, furiously clicking his mouse with his other hand. "And second of all, it's not my fault all these kids are so racist!"

Nyx snorted. "I told you not to tell little kids your ethnicity, that never ends well." They shifted around in their seat, causing Reagan to get nail polish all over Nyx's finger. With a pout, she dabbed some nail polish remover on a cotton pad and began rubbing the deep purple off of Nyx's finger.

Mason rolled his eyes, quickly making a turn in the speedrunner that was somehow still going. "But they seemed supportive!" he whined, throwing his arms in the air for emphasis. "I told them I'm Asian, they asked me if I am BTS, so I said, 'no, I'm Vietnamese.' But like, even if I was South Korean, that doesn't make me a member of BTS! Anyway, then they started spamming the chat with vomit emojis."

Damn.

Before I could say anything, Nyx snorted again, this time holding their hand still for Reagan, who just shook her head with a small smile. "Mace, I love you, but by now you should know that Roblox is not the place to make friends," she said with a chuckle, carefully stroking the iridescent polish across Nyx's nails.

Nyx hummed to that, tired eyes hidden underneath smudged-out black eyeliner. "Racism's everywhere, though. The second I go out there and walk past those soccer-sluts, they'll ask me why I don't go back to the factory they bought their shirts from. Bonus points for creativity, I guess."

I felt a frown tug at my face, a rope tying its way around my chest. Though it didn't feel exactly right to say something, being as white and American as you could find, I still wanted to say something. "People really suck sometimes," was what came out of my mouth, to which Nyx gave me a tight-lipped nod.

Reagan just shot both of us a sad smile, squeezing Nyx's knee with her free hand, to which Nyx smiled.

Completely missing the current atmosphere, Mason groaned. "Then what do you suggest? Fucking Omegle? Yeah, that's certainly better," he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. His attempt to appear angry was cut short when his phone started to ring, and a BTS song began blasting through the building. He scrambled to swipe the call away. "You heard nothing," he threatened, turning to me with a suppressed grin and an accusatory finger. Mood.

Right then, Reagan's alarm went off, disrupting the music with an aggressive blare, one that made me want to scream back at it. Time to go back to Hell. Still, I chuckled, shooting my hands up in defense. "Nothing at all!"

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The moment I turned the corridor to my locker, Jackson appeared out of fucking nowhere. "Robbie! Where've you been?" he called out as I walked up to him, mostly because he was close to my locker, but hey. He slung an arm around my shoulders, a common greeting, I feared, and stirred me towards the rest of his group. Well great, I just wanted to grab my textbook.

With an awkward chuckle, I shot the others a little wave. "Oh, you know... Just hanging out with some friends." I knew it would make perfect sense for everyone's sanity if I'd just lied, but for some reason, I was also curious what Jackson's reaction would be.

"Friends?" Jackson mused, one brow quirking up. He leaned back against a locker, his arms folded against his chest. "What other friends do you need, if you have us, hm?" His dark eyes pierced into my goddamn soul, waiting for an answer.

I swallowed, my eyes dashing around the hallway, hopefully sending off some sort of S.O.S signal to the passing students who either gave me a massive side-eye or a sickening smile. "Just some guys I met, uhm... In the theater room-?" Dad, I love you... It was nice knowing you..

Jackson's eyes widened, his lips twisting into an amused smile. He nudged some other guy in his side, whispering something as he nodded his head toward me. What kind of interrogation was this?! "The theater room? Don't tell me you've been hanging out with a bunch of low-life faggots," the guy scoffed, followed by an incredulous laugh as he eyed Jackson for approval.

Amberly, who was standing by her locker to fix her makeup, chuckled at the guy's words.

Well okay, fuck you, then. In situations like these, you know you failed socializing because what the fuck was that?! I tried my best to keep a neutral face, though I wasn't sure why I even cared. I just did. And despite the raging fury building up in my throat, I couldn't bring myself to speak. Imagine you'd tell 'em all you're gay. Watch the shock on their faces. I mentally slapped myself. Shut the fuck up, brain.

Upon seeing my most likely hateful face, Jackson's face morphed from amused into that of a strange pity. He shook his head, eyes on the floor before turning to the guy with a scoff. "Don't use words like that, have you learned nothing?"

The guy's eyes widened. "What? But you use it like, all the t—"

"Shut it. I would never. And unless you'd like me to destroy all that's valued to you, I suggest you shut your mouth, darling." Jackson narrowed his eyes at the guy whose name I couldn't care to remember, smirking when he nodded, before turning to me.

My face probably resembled that of someone in their mid-twenties, rediscovering the fan fiction they wrote when they were fourteen. I mean, you can't tell me this type of shit doesn't sound like a Wattpad story from 2014. Except I was living it. And I couldn't just throw my phone across my bed and continue life. Fuck me.

Jackson smirked, lips pulling up as he narrowed his eyes at me. "Don't give me that sour face, darling. I don't bite." He leaned over, lowering his head to my ear. In a horrifyingly low whisper, he added, "unless you want me to," with a wink. He then launched himself back up and clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. "Right. C'mon people, time to get to class. Chop chop!"

If ear-bleach existed, I would be glad to drown myself in it.

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Color theory is fucking weird. Like, you mix this and that together and it becomes something brand new. 'The fuck kinda magician came up with that? Ridiculous.

As of right now, half of my canvas was covered in a thick coat of aquamarine gouache, blues and greens merging together like they were meant for nothing less. The true depth of the ocean could never be captured by the strokes of my brush, but I could try to at least do it some justice.

Despite the 24/7 chaos fucking around in my head, painting gave me peace. I liked to think everyone had that one something. Whether it was a place, an activity, or, even more admirable for my single ass, a person. Something that gave them peace. And it wasn't like I never exploded on my art, shouting insults at it as if that would fix my mistakes. But still, peace.

With the sun pooling into my room from the window behind me, highlighting my canvas in a golden glow, and the way too catchy melodies of some random BTS song —I'd stalked Mason's Spotify— fluttering around my room, the rest of the world hit pause.

A stream of color faded into the water as I dipped my brush in it, slowly turning the water into a muddy blue. After dabbing the excess water onto a mountain of paper towels, I slopped the brush into the sandy yellow I had managed to create on my palette— after many mishaps with the stupid white.

Out of all of the process that was painting, slathering the thick, sticky substance on a rough canvas would always be the most satisfying thing ever. Watching the brush float across the surface, leaving behind not a single speck of white. Well I mean, pouring a cup of varnish over the finished result definitely didn't hurt to watch either, but it wasn't the same.

I hummed along to Dynamite, satisfaction coursing through my brain as I watched the canvas come to life. The last bits of white gave the waves their inexplainable shapes, those fluffy silhouettes I wanted to hold so badly, despite the common knowledge they couldn't actually sustain a body for longer than the seconds it took for them to wash up to the shore. Life really wasn't fair.

Just as Mason's playlist had seemed to end, I heard a soft knock on my door. Not long after, Aleksia's face peeked from behind, a small smile on her face. "Hey," she murmured as she walked further into my room. "Are you liking the new paint?" she asked, touching up one of the plants on my windowsill.

I couldn't help but grin, inspecting the canvas once more. "Yeah, I love them."

Aleksia smiled, turning around to ruffle my hair. "I'm glad," she said. Her eyes fell on the canvas, and for a split second, a flash of sadness flitted through her eyes before it evaporated into what I assumed was supposed to be a smile. "Sorry, it's— it's nothing," she quickly muttered when she saw my furrowed brows, before turning around to blink into the sunlight.

"I've never seen someone cry because of the ocean," I teased, because in all honesty, I had no fucking clue what else I could do. And then I realized that my statement wasn't even true. First of all, up until like a week ago, I'd never even been to a beach before, and second of all, literally every child under the age of ten had started crying when the salt water got in their eyes. My poor ears were living proof.

Shaking her head, Aleksia glanced at me with a sad smile. "I'm just— the last time you used to show me your art, it was always— I'm just happy to see your art is happy again." She placed a hand on my shoulder, navy blue nails resting against my pink t-shirt.

Well fuck. Rocks began to form in my throat as the flashbacks rammed into me so fast I couldn't even make sense of them. As if a massive hand dunked my head underwater, leaving me to drown in a sea of suppressed memories. "DAD! LOOK OU—" I shook my head, forcing my brain to shut the fuck up and save it for another time. If anything, I should be grateful. I knew I never had it that bad, especially compared to the shit some people had to go through. Instead, I gave Alekisa a small smile. "Yeah, me too."

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Do you know that feeling when you've done something, and you wish you did something else? Okay, maybe that's a little vague, apologies. But I couldn't help the mild regret seeping into my thoughts as I watched the sun sink down the horizon. Fucking breathtaking. I should've painted this.

The entire promenade was drenched in a pool of deep, golden-red light, warm highlights setting the palm trees on fire. That fiery glow led back to the one ginormous ball of the brightest orange I had ever seen, slowly descending into the ocean, where the fire doused down into a serene blanket of color, floating on the glossy surface.

I climbed over the little wall -without almost ending my life this time- and began walking down the mostly empty beach. Flip-flops hanging from my hand, the warm sand brushed against my feet; a nice change from the gritty concrete. The closer to the sea I got, the more pretty seashells I saw, and inevitably, picked up. My pockets were starting to feel heavy. And round. Round pockets weren't comfy.

While contemplating whether I should walk through the water, I decided I liked the beach better at night. Well, it wasn't really night yet, but you get the point. There were barely any people, no screaming, no obnoxious laughter from the BBQ dads. JESUS that's fucking cold. I jumped back with a shriek after accidentally touching the water, the sand now clinging to my toes. Great.

Taking a few steps back, I took in a deep breath of heavy, salted air, and gave the burning sun another glance before closing my eyes and everything fell quiet. Yet at the same time, it got so much louder. I could hear the soft waves lapping at each other, seagulls screeching somewhere in the background. Distinct chatter followed my ears all the way back from the terraces far behind me, as did the clinking of glass, people toasting to whatever was important to them. The weak tide retracted strings of sand from underneath my feet, tickling my skin before pushing it back again, a repeating motion.

"Robbie, hey. Enjoying the sunset... with your eyes closed-?" Seth's voice suddenly spoke, startling me out of my peaceful trance. I didn't mind, though.

I smiled what I hoped looked like a friendly smile, running a hand through my tangled hair and then immediately regretting it right after. Ow. "At least I'm not creeping up on people," I retorted with an accidental snort, still trying to dismantle my hand from the birdnest that was my hair.

Seth, dressed in swimming trunks and a loose shirt, chuckled. Instead of making the mistake I had, he just shook his hair out of his face, which somehow worked perfectly. "Touché once again." He glanced around the beach, eyes lingering on the aflame water before falling back to me. "Wanna go for a swim?" he asked, jabbing a thumb towards the sea.

Fucking shit fuck— "Uh," I staggered out, begging my brain to fucking cooperate for once. Growing up in the city, I'd never learned how to swim. And although I knew it wasn't exactly uncommon, it still felt embarrassing as fuck. "Can't swim," I managed to mumble, just loud enough for Seth to hear. This was so fucking embarrassing.

Seth's eyes widened, and I could already imagine how he'd laugh at my face or something. But to my surprise, he didn't. "Oh shit. Ya never learned?" was all he asked, not a single sense of ridiculing in his words.

I shook my head, still feeling fucking stupid. "Grew up in the city, no water around," I tried to explain, quickly adding a "fucking embarrassing, I know," when Seth only nodded. I wanted the sand to swallow me whole.

Almost immediately, Seth shook his head, an alarmed expression on his face. "No! Not at all. Blame it on the environment, not on ya self. Besides, it's never too late to learn, right?"

A dose of relief washed over me, and I felt my cheeks pull up into a smile. "I guess you're right."

A calm breeze caught Seth's hair, sending the loose strands flying across his face. He shook his head once more, with a laugh this time, before stretching out his arms like a statue in the wind. My eyes focused on the way his veins flexed at the impact, running from the end of his short sleeves down to the stack of bracelets still hanging steady on his left wrist. Then, he locked his eyes with mine, a somewhat mischievous grin crawling up his face. "Wanna go for a walk instead then?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice," I replied with a smile, to which Seth nodded and we began walking in a random direction.

"So," Seth began after a bit of silence, glancing off into the distance. "What brought you here? HHA's not nothing."

I hummed at that, kicking a little shell along. "True that. My mom got me in, she has some connections," I said, before realizing how douchy that sounded. "I mean, I still got the grades and all, it's not like that."

Seth nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still stuck on the unknown. "Are you close with your mom?" he eventually asked.

I sucked in a quick breath. I wasn't exactly used to speaking about shit like this, let alone to someone I barely knew. But still, Seth didn't seem like the judgy type, which somehow gave me much more comfort than I'd like to admit. I sighed, squinting my eyes at the sky. "Not really?" I tried, but it came out more as a question. "I haven't seen her in like, years."

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Seth nodded once more, slowly this time. "Alright, this is starting to feel like an interrogation," he laughed, finally snapping his eyes away from the distance, and back to me. "Why don't we switch it up, you ask me something." Thank you.

I hesitantly smiled, using Seth's tactic of gazing into the distance so I could overthink in peace. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to ask? It felt like one of those game shows, where the contestant has one final question to go, one answer leading them to fame, wealth, whatever the fuck, and the other will kill their reputation. Fun times. And of course, my mind turned completely blank, leaving me with no choice but to go for the most basic ass questions. "Uhm," I made out, solely to let Seth know I was still responsive, "when— shit. I can't choose between 'when is your birthday', and 'how come I literally never see you at school.' But the first one is like super basic, so I should probably go for the second one. Unless—"

"How about I answer them both?" Seth offered with a chuckle, cutting my incessant rambling off. When I gave him a hopefully not-too-awkward nod, he smiled. "Okay well," he began, smiling at a stranger passing by, "my birthday's July 30th. Turning nineteen, can you believe? And as for the school thing, it's a lil' complicated," he said, running a hand through his blond hair.

After I hummed, quietness took over for a bit. It wasn't necessarily the awkward kind of silence, though. Progress! Finding a new seashell to kick along, I finally said, "I don't mind complicated." And for some reason, my voice came out weirdly small, like when you're talking back to an adult but you still want to live afterwards. The fuck-?

Thankfully, Seth didn't seem to notice as he simply smiled again, stealing my seashell with his foot. I shoved his side with a huff, to which he flinched, freezing up a bit before his smile returned, somewhat hesitant. Huh? All of a sudden, he bent down and picked up another shell, holding out his hand to give it to me. "Keep it, it's pretty."

"It is pretty," I mumbled as I stuffed the pinkish-striped shell into my pocket, giving it a little pat before letting my hand hang along my side again. I noticed the pink skies were slowly darkening into a deep shade of purple, little stars of light speckling around the world. "It's getting dark," I pointed out as I began walking up towards the promenade again, Seth following closely behind me.

"I'm in the Credit Recovery Program," Seth suddenly said, pushing himself up the little wall with a groan. "Because I transferred from some mediocre school I never attended anyway, to this fancy-pansy ant nest. So, with the academic reputation I'd built for myself, colleges would probably laugh at my application before throwing it away. Hence the C.R.P. I'm basically repeating a year without actually repeating it, fixing only the necessary grades," he explained, resting his elbows on the wall as he leaned back a bit.

With wide eyes, I nodded, taking all the new information in. This was once again proof that there was so much in this world I didn't know. So much I would never know. "Do you want to go to college?" I asked, kicking my legs up and down, praying to god I wouldn't drop-kick myself off the wall again.

"Nah, I don't really see the point." Seth shrugged, squinting his eyes at the final strokes of sunlight, descending into the blackened waves. His hand —on which I noticed a small tattoo— reached for the bracelets on his wrist, fingers running across the various beads and leather strings. "Everyone's always goin' crazy over college and shit, and then they judge me if I don't want that life. Make that make sense." Hopping off the wall, Seth smiled at me —something he seemed to do often— before grabbing the longboard that stood against the off-white wall. As he dropped it to the ground, setting a foot on it, he glanced at me. "We're all just a bunch of idiots, anyway. So, fuck it." And with a two-fingered salute, he darted off, leaving only a soft breeze to play with my hair.

I smiled. Fuck it.

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Longer chapter wheeeeeee 😋Lemme know your thoughts! A vote would be appreciated 👉👈 :)

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Remember to stay hydrated and tell your loved ones you love them<3