Status: On hiatus until further notice
Run Away With Me
Chapter 2
Vic’s POV
I am standing in the middle of the living room with Mr. Yevz, whose very ernst demeanor has made me begin to physically slump over in self-consciousness, I think about the events that transpired just an hour ago.
*Flashback*
Silently pleading my mother and father to let me stay with them, I cling to the edge of the room. See, I’m an elective mute. I have been since I got into a car crash that killed my little brother, Michael, three years ago. My parents had immediately put me in therapy., but I refused to talk about what happened. About a month ago, the therapist, having constantly failed to get a peep out of me, finally gave up and recommended that I be sent to a Trouble Boys’ Home. I don’t want to go stay at an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people who probably are equally or more ‘troubled’ than myself. I am snug with not talking and being myself twenty-three hours out of the day. Yet, at the moment, my mother gives me a look of sympathy as she rolls my suitcase down the walkway, holding my acoustic in her free hand. My father has placed his hands on my shoulders, standing behind me while giving a pep talk about how this will be good for me and that the therapist said I only have to go for four months. Inside, I am grimacing at the thought.
Shaking my father’s hands off of my shoulders, I pick up the photo of me and Mikey at his birthday party before storming out to the car, where my mom is waiting by the back door of the car, smiling weakly when she sees me. She opens the door for me and as I take a seat, she whispers with a small quantity of hope, “Maybe you’ll find a cute boy who can understand your pain.” Her attempt at trying to make this situation seem better is met by my rolling eyes. Glumly, she closes the door and gets into the driver’s seat.
When we get to the home, she helps me unload my suitcase and guitar, then outstretches her arms, obviously hoping for a hug. I am still mentally fuming, so I just take my items to the front door and knock rapidly, not taking a glance back towards the weeping sounds that emit from my mother.
*Present Time*
The door had been answered by Mr. Yevz, who introduced himself as the headmaster. I rolled my eyes at his uptight, regal attitude when he went upstairs to ‘check the rooms.’
When he had come back down, he noticed that I was still standing in my previous spot with the same nervous, yet bitter, composure and told me that the others would be down here momentarily. We stand here for a good fucking while before the sound of footsteps echos to the room. The first boy I see is an extremely tall boy with tattoos blanketing his right arm, neck, knuckles, and, by the looks of it, a majority of his chest. He is wearing a brilliant smile that instantly gives me a sense of warmth and happiness. His dark brown hair is short and styled with a fo-hawk. His attire consists of a black Attila tank, black skinny jeans, and a pair of black Converse.
The guy behind him is a pure Ginger, freckles and pale skin included. He is dressed in a similar fashion as the first boy and looks like he is 18, as opposed to the other, who looks around 19 or 20. The first thing I notice about the two is that they grab each other’s hand when they stop in front of me. They’re together? That’s adorable. I think to myself lightheartedly, but I maintain an anxious expression.
The third boy attracts my attention the most. He is shorter than the other four and has glossy black shoulder-length hair that curls at the end beautifully. His light complexion is complimented by a handful of freckles that seem to have been individually and delicately pressed on by God’s angels. Along with his clothes, which at this point I have figured out that everyone’s is pretty much the same, he is wearing intricate tattoos on his arm and one on his chest that I can’t quite make out. I see that I have been caught admiring because when I take a chance to float around in those magnificent light green eyes, we make eye contact and he smiles at me. Ducking my head, my cheeks feel hot and I am happy that my long hair obscures my face. Once the heat dissipates, I look up and observe the other two boys. The guy who walks in next is sporting a ‘down-in-the-dumps’ look, but attempts to seem cheerful. I take note that he obviously has depression. His skin is a flawless tan, as if he is Hispanic. His hair, a dark brown, is shaved on both sides to make what seems to be a mo-hawk. On his left cheekbone, there is a shiny circle, probably a piercing of some sort. Overall, his demeanor is a shy one.
The last guy is a little intimidating. He isn’t tall at all, but his gauges, stance, and blank expression gives off the whole “I’m a badass” vibe.
The bunch as a whole appears mostly welcoming, but I keep my guard up. Mr. Yevz clears his throat to grab everyone’s attention.
”Boys, this is Victor Fuentes. He will be here for approximately four months, for what? Well, I’ll let him tell you,” he looks to me, “Victor?”
I gulp back a lump and quickly set down my guitar and photo before rummaging through my suitcase for my notebook. I scratch down my condition and hold the book up for everyone to read.
”Elective mutism, eh? So, you don’t talk? Like at all?” the Ginger asks. I shake my head and look at the floor, my anxiety kicking in.
”I think that’s pretty cool,” the cutie says with an appreciative smile on his face. I glance up at him and write Thanks on the page. He chuckles lightly and walks up to me, his hand outstretched. “No problem. I’m Kellin, by the way.”
I mentally swoon at his angelic smile and dumbfoundly hesitate to shake his hand. Electricity circuits between out palms and I almost gasp. When he lets go of my hand, I can still feel the remnants of that spark, the tingle giving me goosebumps.
”And finally this is Austin Carlile. Victor? Victor!” I snap out of a daze and look at Mr. Yevz. He seems slightly irritated at me lack of focus. “Did you hear what I just said?”
Blushing furiously, I shake my head, hearing him sigh in response. “I was just telling you who everyone is, but I’ll just let you find out on your own time, seeing as you can’t be bothered with it on mine,” he huffs before walking down the long hallway and disappearing into a room.
Kellin stands beside me and puts an arm across my shoulders. “Well, I’ll introduce everyone again for you since Yevz seems to have a fist up his ass.” I go through the motions of laughing, but of course no sounds come out. I pay attention to his words.
”This,” he points to the tall boy, “is Austin.” Austin waves to me with his free hand. “That guy right there,” he points to the Ginger, “is his boyfriend, Alan.” Alan smiles.
He now points at the Hispanic boy. “That’s Tony.” Tony looks up at the sound of his name, but doesn’t wave or smile. I understand though. Kellin points to the badass. “And this is my roommate, Justin.”
”Sup,” he utters. Roommate? I mentally sigh. I guess I won’t be room with him. Wondering who doesn’t currently have a roommate, I flip to a new page in my notebook, yet as I am about to write my question, I hear Mr. Yevz walk back into the room.
”Oh, Kellin, since you’ve so conveniently taken a liking to Victor, I ask that you and Tony switch room so that the poor boy can see a friendly familiar face every morning.” As the headmaster goes back into the other room, Kellin grabs my hand and pulls me towards the stairs in excitement.
I am standing in the middle of the living room with Mr. Yevz, whose very ernst demeanor has made me begin to physically slump over in self-consciousness, I think about the events that transpired just an hour ago.
*Flashback*
Silently pleading my mother and father to let me stay with them, I cling to the edge of the room. See, I’m an elective mute. I have been since I got into a car crash that killed my little brother, Michael, three years ago. My parents had immediately put me in therapy., but I refused to talk about what happened. About a month ago, the therapist, having constantly failed to get a peep out of me, finally gave up and recommended that I be sent to a Trouble Boys’ Home. I don’t want to go stay at an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people who probably are equally or more ‘troubled’ than myself. I am snug with not talking and being myself twenty-three hours out of the day. Yet, at the moment, my mother gives me a look of sympathy as she rolls my suitcase down the walkway, holding my acoustic in her free hand. My father has placed his hands on my shoulders, standing behind me while giving a pep talk about how this will be good for me and that the therapist said I only have to go for four months. Inside, I am grimacing at the thought.
Shaking my father’s hands off of my shoulders, I pick up the photo of me and Mikey at his birthday party before storming out to the car, where my mom is waiting by the back door of the car, smiling weakly when she sees me. She opens the door for me and as I take a seat, she whispers with a small quantity of hope, “Maybe you’ll find a cute boy who can understand your pain.” Her attempt at trying to make this situation seem better is met by my rolling eyes. Glumly, she closes the door and gets into the driver’s seat.
When we get to the home, she helps me unload my suitcase and guitar, then outstretches her arms, obviously hoping for a hug. I am still mentally fuming, so I just take my items to the front door and knock rapidly, not taking a glance back towards the weeping sounds that emit from my mother.
*Present Time*
The door had been answered by Mr. Yevz, who introduced himself as the headmaster. I rolled my eyes at his uptight, regal attitude when he went upstairs to ‘check the rooms.’
When he had come back down, he noticed that I was still standing in my previous spot with the same nervous, yet bitter, composure and told me that the others would be down here momentarily. We stand here for a good fucking while before the sound of footsteps echos to the room. The first boy I see is an extremely tall boy with tattoos blanketing his right arm, neck, knuckles, and, by the looks of it, a majority of his chest. He is wearing a brilliant smile that instantly gives me a sense of warmth and happiness. His dark brown hair is short and styled with a fo-hawk. His attire consists of a black Attila tank, black skinny jeans, and a pair of black Converse.
The guy behind him is a pure Ginger, freckles and pale skin included. He is dressed in a similar fashion as the first boy and looks like he is 18, as opposed to the other, who looks around 19 or 20. The first thing I notice about the two is that they grab each other’s hand when they stop in front of me. They’re together? That’s adorable. I think to myself lightheartedly, but I maintain an anxious expression.
The third boy attracts my attention the most. He is shorter than the other four and has glossy black shoulder-length hair that curls at the end beautifully. His light complexion is complimented by a handful of freckles that seem to have been individually and delicately pressed on by God’s angels. Along with his clothes, which at this point I have figured out that everyone’s is pretty much the same, he is wearing intricate tattoos on his arm and one on his chest that I can’t quite make out. I see that I have been caught admiring because when I take a chance to float around in those magnificent light green eyes, we make eye contact and he smiles at me. Ducking my head, my cheeks feel hot and I am happy that my long hair obscures my face. Once the heat dissipates, I look up and observe the other two boys. The guy who walks in next is sporting a ‘down-in-the-dumps’ look, but attempts to seem cheerful. I take note that he obviously has depression. His skin is a flawless tan, as if he is Hispanic. His hair, a dark brown, is shaved on both sides to make what seems to be a mo-hawk. On his left cheekbone, there is a shiny circle, probably a piercing of some sort. Overall, his demeanor is a shy one.
The last guy is a little intimidating. He isn’t tall at all, but his gauges, stance, and blank expression gives off the whole “I’m a badass” vibe.
The bunch as a whole appears mostly welcoming, but I keep my guard up. Mr. Yevz clears his throat to grab everyone’s attention.
”Boys, this is Victor Fuentes. He will be here for approximately four months, for what? Well, I’ll let him tell you,” he looks to me, “Victor?”
I gulp back a lump and quickly set down my guitar and photo before rummaging through my suitcase for my notebook. I scratch down my condition and hold the book up for everyone to read.
”Elective mutism, eh? So, you don’t talk? Like at all?” the Ginger asks. I shake my head and look at the floor, my anxiety kicking in.
”I think that’s pretty cool,” the cutie says with an appreciative smile on his face. I glance up at him and write Thanks on the page. He chuckles lightly and walks up to me, his hand outstretched. “No problem. I’m Kellin, by the way.”
I mentally swoon at his angelic smile and dumbfoundly hesitate to shake his hand. Electricity circuits between out palms and I almost gasp. When he lets go of my hand, I can still feel the remnants of that spark, the tingle giving me goosebumps.
”And finally this is Austin Carlile. Victor? Victor!” I snap out of a daze and look at Mr. Yevz. He seems slightly irritated at me lack of focus. “Did you hear what I just said?”
Blushing furiously, I shake my head, hearing him sigh in response. “I was just telling you who everyone is, but I’ll just let you find out on your own time, seeing as you can’t be bothered with it on mine,” he huffs before walking down the long hallway and disappearing into a room.
Kellin stands beside me and puts an arm across my shoulders. “Well, I’ll introduce everyone again for you since Yevz seems to have a fist up his ass.” I go through the motions of laughing, but of course no sounds come out. I pay attention to his words.
”This,” he points to the tall boy, “is Austin.” Austin waves to me with his free hand. “That guy right there,” he points to the Ginger, “is his boyfriend, Alan.” Alan smiles.
He now points at the Hispanic boy. “That’s Tony.” Tony looks up at the sound of his name, but doesn’t wave or smile. I understand though. Kellin points to the badass. “And this is my roommate, Justin.”
”Sup,” he utters. Roommate? I mentally sigh. I guess I won’t be room with him. Wondering who doesn’t currently have a roommate, I flip to a new page in my notebook, yet as I am about to write my question, I hear Mr. Yevz walk back into the room.
”Oh, Kellin, since you’ve so conveniently taken a liking to Victor, I ask that you and Tony switch room so that the poor boy can see a friendly familiar face every morning.” As the headmaster goes back into the other room, Kellin grabs my hand and pulls me towards the stairs in excitement.
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