A Faint Illusion

He is the lamb, she is the slaughter

He was back. 
He was back. He was here. Why was he here. Where was Ruby? And his brother and Matt?
But no here he was. Sitting on a metal green picnic table, a camera in hand and a cigarette between his lips, an over sized group of kids surrounding him as they bombarded him with questions. 
Thomas Jordan Sykes was suddenly the "Big man on campus". 
It was hard not to notice him. He hadn't of changed all that much. His hair was shorter, he was talker and skinner. Tattoos aligned his body and when you walked past him the air still smelled faintly of pot. He wore tight black trousers rolled up once at the bottom showing off a pair of black canvas shoes. A white v-neck and blue North Face jacket. His RayBan's covering those beautiful eyes I had once fallen for. 
He doesn't belong here. He shouldn't be here. He should of stayed away. He promised too. 

---

"Who is that?" Annabell Reese asked. Her annoyingly chipper voice echoed the nearly empty lounge. Her natural red hair hung in a loose ponytail and her yellow cat like eyes peeked around the corner again as she peered in the corridor to glance at the mysterious boy who seemed to have a group of people surrounding him. 

I just rolled my eyes and continued to gnaw at the vulnerable fingernails in the path towards my mouth. Thomas had been here barely a week. Then again fall semesters have been in session for a good week as well. 
He shouldn't of came, he knew I was here. Why was he doing this?

His footsteps could be heard, the dragging of his feet as he sauntered down the corridor past this room. Annabell and company squealed together as he walked by, quite possibly barely paying notice to the attractive, actually quite beautiful girls. 

&

"Pansy" One of the gingers dragged out. All three girls being in a group of some secret redhead society where they barely paid attention to anyone who was not or did not look like them. It's been like this since primary school. I wasn't phased neither was anyone else for that matter. 

I glanced up. My features in a very large contrast to Rebecca's. My mouth remained close as I stared blankly at her waiting for her frosted pink pouty lips to add another fragment to my growing headache. 
"Do you know who that is?" she asked innocently. I think those girls were in a secret conspiracy, or quite possibly in some sort of alliance with the Irish to ruin my life. 
Everyone who went to Secondary and Sixth Form with Thomas and I knew two things. 
1. Yes I knew who Thomas J. Sykes was. 
And;
2. I do not discuss him. 

Clearly she was playing stupid. 
Or perhaps she was just quite daft in general. 
I slammed my laptop shut, suddenly feeling uneasy and unhappy. Slipping the white Mac Book into the brown knapsack, I raced out of the room towards the exit greeting the warm august weather once more. 
Picking a table furthest from the door, I unloaded my things once more. Stretching my legs out from under the table and burying myself into the psychology textbook.  

&&

So when were you going to inform me that your brother had decided to attend the same Uni as me. I sent to Oliver, as I started to shove the remainder of my textbooks into the knapsack before buckling it closed and picking up the iPhone. 

Was I overreacting? 
Yes. Maybe a little. 

Was I being stubborn?
Yes. 

Was I being selfish and maybe a bitch?
Maybe not as much as I could of been. 

Surprise! the text message said. Oliver Sykes was no longer on my nice list as I replied with a 'gee thanks' before racing to my vehicle at quite possibly an illegal speed to escape any unnecessary encounters. 

Was I being childish?
No. 

Did I have a reason to hold a grudge?
Yes. 

Was Oli a dead man?
YUP. 

You're overreacting. he stated simply. 
It was like I could hear the sternness in his voice and his head full of brown hair shaking as he had finished running his germy hands through his hair. 

how? I stated simply. The least Oliver could of done was inform me my least favourite person was back. 

He saved your life. 

&&&

"So you just ran to your car..." my flatmate repeated as she tried to take in everything I had just dropped onto her plate. 
I nodded hesitantly before burying my face into my hands to keep from whining. 
"I'm overreacting." I stated simply running my fingers through the brown hair on my head. 
"You're not overreacting. You are fleeing though." She stated nodding her head before nibbling on her lip. 
"Don't you miss him?" she asked quietly afraid to hear my answer and she continued to gnaw on that small section of her lip.