Status: Let's give this one another shot.
I Cannot Change You
Three
~*Wednesday, 14th of October continued*~
Thoughts of Mystery Boy pop into my head again as my brother and I walk to school, a lot earlier than usual, in silence. Only the sound of our shoes dragging along the pavement can be heard, and Max's belt chain clinking against his shoulder bag.
"Who was that guy? The one you went home with last night?" I question carefully after jogging to catch up with him, something he would usually hate me to do. He looks around before slowing down a tiny bit. We can let our guard down a little around our house, but when we get near the school we make sure to be as far away from each other as possible. I happily oblige.
He shrugs. "Just a friend." his mossy green eyes remain cold as they study my face for a quick second. A cool shiver goes down my spine at his small gesture, as if his eyes radiate iciness. Another bitter silence commences. We've been living together for over 2 years, and we're still not on great speaking terms. It's not awkward, just... He's normally outgoing and loud with other people, but at home, he's another story. Not quiet or shy, but sinisterly thoughtful. It's the only way to describe him. This is what scares me. I never know what he's thinking about, or who, for that matter. He could be planning an assault and nobody would know it.
I often wonder what happens in Max's brain. I don't know enough about the real Max to even imagine. I've already seen two faces of him, but where's Maxwell Scott Green? Is he really a sweet, kind boy like in his childhood pictures, but hidden by an arrogant, sex-driven, binge-drinking 17 year old who has to face a life of law-breaking and recklessness just to be cool? What if he is a completely different person to the one his friends and family know him as? He doesn't show much emotion towards his father. That must have had some effect on him, although it doesn't seem like it.
...Is he even happy?
I let Max a few meters in front of me as we turn the corner and the school comes into view. Many students hang around the fences with cigarettes between their fingers and lips. Repulsive.
Horrid glares shoot in my direction as I make my way up the concrete steps and into the corridor, and I can sense a long day forthcoming.
Since this morning, now lunchtime, I had watched the sky turn from pale blue to a dark grey and huge black clouds form, waiting to spill with fresh water. I don't mind walking home in the rain, I like the sensation of the little droplets tapping on my head. I know for sure that Max will complain, and I roll my eyes at the thought of my step brother. The last time I saw him today was in science when he almost blew up the classroom, and on purpose.
I sit alone at my spot underneath the large maple tree outside the cafeteria, and pick at the soft green grass underneath me. I nibble quietly on an apple, my head resting on the old, rough trunk. At this time of the year, no one goes outside, due to the overcast weather. As if I'd have any interaction with the other students, however. It's a lot more peaceful.
I close my eyes and listen to the quiet moans of a softly blowing gale, and the easy creaking branches of the maple, Max's soft song faintly replaying in the back of my head.
I wonder what I thought about, between closing my eyes and the screech of the bell ringing through my brain. I must have fallen asleep for a minute or two, as I don't recall when the rain started falling. A few fat droplets catch in my hair as I tug each side of my thin jacket over my chest. I get to my feet and make my way across the slippery grass to the cafeteria.
"Hey freak. Whatcha doin' outside, eh? No one to play with?" A boy with spiky blonde hair shoves me into a nearby table as I shuffle inside. The large group of people surrounding him laugh scornfully. I clench my teeth together and look him straight in the eyes before striding away. Although I should be used to all this by now, it still hurts. This is nothing compared to what I usually get. At least this time I won't be late for class.
***
As the rain falls steadily, Max groans and cusses. He walks quickly, kicking stray stones along the slippery footpath of our street. His black hoodie is tight around his long hair and his hands are shoved down the pockets at the front. I walk beside him, and I'm surprised when I don't receive an argument.
"Not pushing me away this time, then." I mutter after a couple of seconds. He clears his throat as if he's about to speak but instead bumps me with his elbow, just hard enough to push me onto the empty road, and then walks ahead. I chuckle and shake my head at his immaturity.
When I get into the house, I can already hear the heavy music coming from Max and I's bedroom. "Hi Augustine." Michelle smiles from behind the kitchen counter as she prepares dinner. I smile back, bend down to untie my shoes and then flop onto the couch. "Hey. Where's dad?"
"He's gone to town to get some groceries for next week," She answers. "how was school, love?"
I sigh. "It was alright." My eyes trace the cracks along the walls and then study the small, framed pictures that hang crookedly. One of a sweet little boy catches my sight and curiosity, just like it has for the last two years. Then my vision averts to a more recent one, but of the same boy. I frown and pull myself up to look at Michelle. "Michelle... What was Max like as a child?"
There's a small pause before she chuckles, a sparkle in her eye. "Absolutely beautiful. A sweetheart. He had the best manners, and he was always so happy." I smile as I imagine him just like Michelle described. Then think of him now. My face falls. It seems as though we have something in common. "He's changed so much." I murmur. She nods at my words.
"Don't feel bad, Augustine. It's not your fault. Just understand that he needs support. We both do."
I rush over to her and hug her tight. "I'm here for you both, whether Max likes it or not." I release my grip on her as she laughs. "Believe me, he appreciates it more than you think." She says in a whisper and winks. My face heats up; I can't help but blush at her statement. I roll my eyes to show her that I doubt it's true.
"What do I appreciate?"
My head whips around as Max emerges from the hallway, and starts searching through a small cabinet behind the table. "Oh... How Augustine cooks your dinner when Dean and I aren't here. Such a lovely girl, isn't she?" She glances at me from the corner of her eye and smiles.
I look down at my broken fingernails and pick at the corners as we wait for his answer.
"Mmm." Is all he utters. Typical. I bet he can't say one good thing about anyone but himself.
I start to wonder if anything Michelle says about baby Maxwell is the truth, as I'm finding it almost impossible to believe.
The rumble of a car's engine is heard and Michelle leaves the room to help dad with the groceries. I watch Max curiously as he rummages through drawers and cupboards. "What are you looking for?" I ask him when he comes over to the kitchen counter and starts to work on one of the drawers.
"A pen." He says simply, emptying the contents out in front of me.
I sigh. "You're going to have to clean all of this up, Max."
He nods as our fingers pick carefully through the small sea of junk, his hand brushing against mine every now and then. I shiver at the cool touch. I have never thought of Max as attractive in any way, but the sensation still lingers pleasantly for a few seconds. It causes me to think back to last night - Mystery Boy, Max's sloppy entrance at midnight, my dream... Then I remember, just before he fell asleep, he said something.
"Were you at a party last night?" I question. He stops searching and starts to place everything back where it came, clearly without grasp of a pen.
"Why?" He looks at me quizzically. I shrug. "Your entrance last night was rather spectacular." I say sarcastically. He purses his lips. "I'm sure it was..." he trails off and walks in the direction of our bedroom.
I sigh in aggravation when he's out of sight. I shouldn't have to put up with his behavior. It's not fair. He should be doing the same things for me as I do for him.
What am I doing for him?
***
After cleaning my teeth and getting into my pajamas, I find my way back to our room. Max is sitting on his pillows with his back against the wall and his knees up to his chest, as I close the door with a small click and flick off the light switch. His hair is damp and wavy, due to him having a shower.
I sit on my bed, darkness engulfing us, only the silver light from the big, bright moon shines through a gap in the curtains. I gaze around our small space blindly, and eventually my eyes lock with his glowing green ones. We watch each other in silence as I try to figure him out. I soon realize that I think about him a lot more than I should.
"Night." I murmur quickly before burying myself under my warm covers.
~*Thursday, 15th of October*~
Max is in the tree again. He's closer to me... But I cannot reach him. He doesn't turn into a beast this time. I see a man in the distance. It's raining, but instead of water falling from the sky, there are thousands of tiny birds, about the size of my thumbnail, dropping like flies. I catch one in my hand but it turns to dust. The man starts running towards me, and I'm afraid. I can't move.
My eyes flicker open.
Do you know when you have a dream, and in the dream something is said or seen and it makes perfect sense or is normal, but when you wake up you don't understand it at all? That wave of emotion rushes over me.
I roll over when I don't hear Max's soft growls, and through the light of the morning, notice that he's not in bed. I frown, puzzled. He probably went to use the bathroom. Desperately in need of some water anyway, I throw on a jumper and head into the kitchen.
The clock above the stove reads 5:11AM as I pour a glass from the tap.
As I gaze out the window into the deserted street, a faint haze of smoke catches my eye. Max is sitting on the porch steps, cigarette in hand, and seemingly deep in thought. I don't feel the need for sleep, so I sit at the table, taking small sips of my drink. The house is completely silent, only the faint ticking of the clock his audible. He opens the front door a couple of minutes later, followed by the distinguishable smell of tobacco. I cough to tell him I'm here, and he spins around to meet my concerned eyes. He just shrugs and stalks down the hall. I close my eyes in frustration.
Just 2 more months.
Thoughts of Mystery Boy pop into my head again as my brother and I walk to school, a lot earlier than usual, in silence. Only the sound of our shoes dragging along the pavement can be heard, and Max's belt chain clinking against his shoulder bag.
"Who was that guy? The one you went home with last night?" I question carefully after jogging to catch up with him, something he would usually hate me to do. He looks around before slowing down a tiny bit. We can let our guard down a little around our house, but when we get near the school we make sure to be as far away from each other as possible. I happily oblige.
He shrugs. "Just a friend." his mossy green eyes remain cold as they study my face for a quick second. A cool shiver goes down my spine at his small gesture, as if his eyes radiate iciness. Another bitter silence commences. We've been living together for over 2 years, and we're still not on great speaking terms. It's not awkward, just... He's normally outgoing and loud with other people, but at home, he's another story. Not quiet or shy, but sinisterly thoughtful. It's the only way to describe him. This is what scares me. I never know what he's thinking about, or who, for that matter. He could be planning an assault and nobody would know it.
I often wonder what happens in Max's brain. I don't know enough about the real Max to even imagine. I've already seen two faces of him, but where's Maxwell Scott Green? Is he really a sweet, kind boy like in his childhood pictures, but hidden by an arrogant, sex-driven, binge-drinking 17 year old who has to face a life of law-breaking and recklessness just to be cool? What if he is a completely different person to the one his friends and family know him as? He doesn't show much emotion towards his father. That must have had some effect on him, although it doesn't seem like it.
...Is he even happy?
I let Max a few meters in front of me as we turn the corner and the school comes into view. Many students hang around the fences with cigarettes between their fingers and lips. Repulsive.
Horrid glares shoot in my direction as I make my way up the concrete steps and into the corridor, and I can sense a long day forthcoming.
Since this morning, now lunchtime, I had watched the sky turn from pale blue to a dark grey and huge black clouds form, waiting to spill with fresh water. I don't mind walking home in the rain, I like the sensation of the little droplets tapping on my head. I know for sure that Max will complain, and I roll my eyes at the thought of my step brother. The last time I saw him today was in science when he almost blew up the classroom, and on purpose.
I sit alone at my spot underneath the large maple tree outside the cafeteria, and pick at the soft green grass underneath me. I nibble quietly on an apple, my head resting on the old, rough trunk. At this time of the year, no one goes outside, due to the overcast weather. As if I'd have any interaction with the other students, however. It's a lot more peaceful.
I close my eyes and listen to the quiet moans of a softly blowing gale, and the easy creaking branches of the maple, Max's soft song faintly replaying in the back of my head.
I wonder what I thought about, between closing my eyes and the screech of the bell ringing through my brain. I must have fallen asleep for a minute or two, as I don't recall when the rain started falling. A few fat droplets catch in my hair as I tug each side of my thin jacket over my chest. I get to my feet and make my way across the slippery grass to the cafeteria.
"Hey freak. Whatcha doin' outside, eh? No one to play with?" A boy with spiky blonde hair shoves me into a nearby table as I shuffle inside. The large group of people surrounding him laugh scornfully. I clench my teeth together and look him straight in the eyes before striding away. Although I should be used to all this by now, it still hurts. This is nothing compared to what I usually get. At least this time I won't be late for class.
***
As the rain falls steadily, Max groans and cusses. He walks quickly, kicking stray stones along the slippery footpath of our street. His black hoodie is tight around his long hair and his hands are shoved down the pockets at the front. I walk beside him, and I'm surprised when I don't receive an argument.
"Not pushing me away this time, then." I mutter after a couple of seconds. He clears his throat as if he's about to speak but instead bumps me with his elbow, just hard enough to push me onto the empty road, and then walks ahead. I chuckle and shake my head at his immaturity.
When I get into the house, I can already hear the heavy music coming from Max and I's bedroom. "Hi Augustine." Michelle smiles from behind the kitchen counter as she prepares dinner. I smile back, bend down to untie my shoes and then flop onto the couch. "Hey. Where's dad?"
"He's gone to town to get some groceries for next week," She answers. "how was school, love?"
I sigh. "It was alright." My eyes trace the cracks along the walls and then study the small, framed pictures that hang crookedly. One of a sweet little boy catches my sight and curiosity, just like it has for the last two years. Then my vision averts to a more recent one, but of the same boy. I frown and pull myself up to look at Michelle. "Michelle... What was Max like as a child?"
There's a small pause before she chuckles, a sparkle in her eye. "Absolutely beautiful. A sweetheart. He had the best manners, and he was always so happy." I smile as I imagine him just like Michelle described. Then think of him now. My face falls. It seems as though we have something in common. "He's changed so much." I murmur. She nods at my words.
"Don't feel bad, Augustine. It's not your fault. Just understand that he needs support. We both do."
I rush over to her and hug her tight. "I'm here for you both, whether Max likes it or not." I release my grip on her as she laughs. "Believe me, he appreciates it more than you think." She says in a whisper and winks. My face heats up; I can't help but blush at her statement. I roll my eyes to show her that I doubt it's true.
"What do I appreciate?"
My head whips around as Max emerges from the hallway, and starts searching through a small cabinet behind the table. "Oh... How Augustine cooks your dinner when Dean and I aren't here. Such a lovely girl, isn't she?" She glances at me from the corner of her eye and smiles.
I look down at my broken fingernails and pick at the corners as we wait for his answer.
"Mmm." Is all he utters. Typical. I bet he can't say one good thing about anyone but himself.
I start to wonder if anything Michelle says about baby Maxwell is the truth, as I'm finding it almost impossible to believe.
The rumble of a car's engine is heard and Michelle leaves the room to help dad with the groceries. I watch Max curiously as he rummages through drawers and cupboards. "What are you looking for?" I ask him when he comes over to the kitchen counter and starts to work on one of the drawers.
"A pen." He says simply, emptying the contents out in front of me.
I sigh. "You're going to have to clean all of this up, Max."
He nods as our fingers pick carefully through the small sea of junk, his hand brushing against mine every now and then. I shiver at the cool touch. I have never thought of Max as attractive in any way, but the sensation still lingers pleasantly for a few seconds. It causes me to think back to last night - Mystery Boy, Max's sloppy entrance at midnight, my dream... Then I remember, just before he fell asleep, he said something.
"Were you at a party last night?" I question. He stops searching and starts to place everything back where it came, clearly without grasp of a pen.
"Why?" He looks at me quizzically. I shrug. "Your entrance last night was rather spectacular." I say sarcastically. He purses his lips. "I'm sure it was..." he trails off and walks in the direction of our bedroom.
I sigh in aggravation when he's out of sight. I shouldn't have to put up with his behavior. It's not fair. He should be doing the same things for me as I do for him.
What am I doing for him?
***
After cleaning my teeth and getting into my pajamas, I find my way back to our room. Max is sitting on his pillows with his back against the wall and his knees up to his chest, as I close the door with a small click and flick off the light switch. His hair is damp and wavy, due to him having a shower.
I sit on my bed, darkness engulfing us, only the silver light from the big, bright moon shines through a gap in the curtains. I gaze around our small space blindly, and eventually my eyes lock with his glowing green ones. We watch each other in silence as I try to figure him out. I soon realize that I think about him a lot more than I should.
"Night." I murmur quickly before burying myself under my warm covers.
~*Thursday, 15th of October*~
Max is in the tree again. He's closer to me... But I cannot reach him. He doesn't turn into a beast this time. I see a man in the distance. It's raining, but instead of water falling from the sky, there are thousands of tiny birds, about the size of my thumbnail, dropping like flies. I catch one in my hand but it turns to dust. The man starts running towards me, and I'm afraid. I can't move.
My eyes flicker open.
Do you know when you have a dream, and in the dream something is said or seen and it makes perfect sense or is normal, but when you wake up you don't understand it at all? That wave of emotion rushes over me.
I roll over when I don't hear Max's soft growls, and through the light of the morning, notice that he's not in bed. I frown, puzzled. He probably went to use the bathroom. Desperately in need of some water anyway, I throw on a jumper and head into the kitchen.
The clock above the stove reads 5:11AM as I pour a glass from the tap.
As I gaze out the window into the deserted street, a faint haze of smoke catches my eye. Max is sitting on the porch steps, cigarette in hand, and seemingly deep in thought. I don't feel the need for sleep, so I sit at the table, taking small sips of my drink. The house is completely silent, only the faint ticking of the clock his audible. He opens the front door a couple of minutes later, followed by the distinguishable smell of tobacco. I cough to tell him I'm here, and he spins around to meet my concerned eyes. He just shrugs and stalks down the hall. I close my eyes in frustration.
Just 2 more months.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hi...How long has it been? At least a month. Two, even.
Sorry.
Comment ^^