Glass Hearts Breaking
Chapter One- "What's The Point Of Life?"
*Alan's POV*
What's the point of living when all you do is just live to die? With every single negative thing in life, where are the positives? I don't see any future for me. I don't even have parents or friends to comfort me. I've been disowned twice, and I've been forged into a foster home. I know they only took me for the money that the government gives them to "support" me. Except, they don't really even do that. To simply survive I have to work at a little diner I've scored a job in about three years ago. Today marks the date my parent's died. February 24. I hate the date with much passion, and I can't stand to hear it. Honestly, I want to just stick a gun up my mouth and shoot. I never was prepared to let them go at the age of fourteen. Four years later, I'm still just a fuck up who doesn't know what they're more afraid of; life or death. In two months, graduation will come and I get to be able to get the fuck out of my stupid foster home's house. The only problem is, I know I'll be kicked out. They both know I have no where else to go. I don't have friends, hell I don't even have a fucking family! I don't even understand why I still live, but the only reason I haven't attempted is because I'm too scared. A scaredy cat, you may call me. A pussy, if you intend to be rude. Don't worry, I'm used to it. I'm the target of my school's bullying. Specifically, the only target. I was forced out of the closet a few weeks after my parent's death and since then things haven't gotten much better.
I hear my phone ring and I instantly wonder why. No one has my phone number except my foster parents, and their kid. I don't even know why I gave it to them, it's not like they care about me. "As long as you show up when a social worker is coming, we don't care where the hell you are" is what they tell me. Like I said, they don't give a single fuck about me, they just want their damn money to shower themselves in and spoil Clyde! I mean, I understand why they don't care. I'm just some fat lanky kid with ginger locks that go down mid-neck who's full of scars and hates life. Might as well call me what they call every other kid -- Emo.
But you see, my question is, why did it have to be me? The one with the fucked up life. The one everyone hated. The one homosexual boy who ended up in a school full of homophobes that hate him for something he had no control over? I just wanted to end it all, and stop living this horrible tragedy I'd call hell. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm sure hell is much more pleasant than this. How could things get much worse?
I continue to hear the horrid noise my phone is creating and look to see why it's going fucking insane. That's when I realize I'm late to work. Of course, my boss doesn't mind. She loves me to death, but she tends to forget my name a lot. It was expected. I never expect a nice little old lady to remember my name. Well, no one in general, but she got it right most of the time.
I head over to the window that overlooks the backyard of the house I currently reside in, and quietly but quickly open it. Linda and Joey never liked the fact that I had a job, so normally I sneaked out to avoid social interaction with them at all costs. I did that in general because I simply just didn't want to deal with their bullshit, however. They are just two people I will never like, and they will never like me. It's how the relationship works, as unfortunate it is. The more unfortunate thing is that my room is on the second floor. I find it a miracle that I haven't broken my foot or ankle yet, especially with how clumsy I am. Really, I am like the most klutziest person in the entire universe that still, sadly I may add, exists.
I hop out the window, taking my phone and a can of Monster with me and I walk off to the diner. It's on the other side of town from where my "home" lays, but it isn't a home. I'm all alone, and no one cares for me. I've written a song previously about me, but who cares enough to see? I don't have anyone, and I prefer to keep it that way. I don't need to get hurt again because I'm ignorant enough to let someone in, someone close. No one needs to hear my glass heart breaking.
*time lapse*
I arrive at work and head to Mrs Carlile.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Mrs Carlile," I apologize.
"Oh, no problem dear. I had Taylor cover your shift. You can work the late shift tonight, later. My son flew in last night, he's your age and is just like you! Maybe you like to meet Austin?" Mrs Carlile offers. Almost instantly I start to deny her request, but I stop myself before making any movements. Maybe this could be my chance to make a friend.. My life to get better, and everything to be okay. But, no, I can't let someone close. I can't let me do this to myself. But, if I don't... Will I just let myself die?
"Sure, Mrs Carlile. That would be wonderful," I answer the nice lady. I mentally slap myself. There goes my heart, it's sure to be broken. God, I'm such an idiot sometimes, maybe I am better off dead. No need to be a bother.
"Austin, darling? Alan is here to meet you!" Mrs Carlile yells cheerfully, trotting off to the kitchen to find this Austin boy. I wonder if he'll be a complete homophobe. I hope not. Mrs Carlile says he isn't, but who knows what kind of trick he could be pulling on his mother. I just hope he doesn't say to hell with me and leave me like everyone else. Unfortunately, it's what will most likely happen. I guess I'll just let whatever happens to happen. Sometimes, you know, you just gotta say "Fuck it, you only fucking live once!" Even I, the one who hates the term "YOLO" the most, there is always just those times that you've got to use it. This would be one of those very few times that I'd use it.
I soon see a boy, no man, about 6'4" waltz out of the kitchen area with a pink squid with colorful tentacles lying on his shoulder. He looks strong, buff, yet quite skinny. His chest and arm covered in tattoos of what seems to be about the ocean. I suppose he's like me, as I have a few tattoos myself, and we both have a simple nose ring pierced into a nostril. But, I'm not as handsome as he is. No, I am the most ugliest human being to exist in all times on this planet.
"Hi, Alan. I'm Austin, and this guy here is Squidgy," Austin says, pointing to the colorful squid.
"Squidgy?" I ask hesitantly. I am not fond of making friends, no one's ever tried.
"Yep. He likes to chill there," he chuckles. Maybe making friends won't be so bad.
"How old are you?" I blurt out, instantly blushing. I can't believe I just blurted that out, I sound so much like an idiot. Now he'll think I'm some freak and I just blew the 0.000001% chance I had of making a friend. Good job, Alan. Good fucking job!
Austin laughs. "17, you?" he answers. What?! There is no way this boy is seventeen.
"Really? Me, too!" I say cheerfully. Wait, where the hell did my sudden cheerfulness come from? Honestly, I sometimes think I'm more of a girl because of my random mood swings. They're quite frankly random, and extremely unpleasant, normally.
We walk out of the diner and head to the park that is only a few blocks down.
"What school do you go to?" Austin asks.
"Mission Bay High," I answer. I hope he isn't friends with Vic or Kellin. They're my head bullies. After them come Frank and Gerard, then Jack and Alex, and last of all, Andy and Ashley. I don't know what I did to them, they just hate me and I never knew why. It's always Friday that I'd hate the most, the day of my beating. I'm surprised he hasn't taken a noticing to any bruises on me. Hopefully he won't notice the deep cuts and blotches of dried blood that hasn't been taken care of on my arms. Thank the lord I remembered to put on my Pink Floyd hoodie.
"Seriously? I haven't seen you 'round, before," Austin replies. I didn't know he actually went to my school, but I've seen him around there before.
"You probably haven't seen me because I'm not much of a social person," I say, adding a chuckle to lighten the mood. "I don't really have any friends, and everyone hates me."
"Nonsense, Alan. I don't hate you, I think your a pretty cool guy," he says, pulling me into a hug.
"Haven't you heard what people say about me? I'm a horrible person, I don't even know why you want to be my friend," I say as I begin to feel the soft prickles of water emerging from my eyes. No, Alan! Don't cry in front of him, stop showing your weak side!
"Alan, I don't care what they say," Austin says, making me look him in the eye. "I want to be your friend, and don't you EVER let them put you down. They just want to make you feel bad so they feel better about themselves. Don't let them get to you, okay?"
"B-but they.. They beat me up e-every F-f-friday," I stutter out, shaking violently, barely being able to control my sobs. He probably thinks I'm some sort of cry-baby homosexual freak. Well, if he even does know I am a flaming homo. Most people know from the way I act, but I don't know how Austin is.
"Who is 'they'?" Austin asks urgently. "I need to know, Alan. They need to know they can't do this to you." I shake my head.
"I can't tell you, they'll kill me," I sob. I know they will, they have no care in the world. I don't see whats even stopping them from not killing me now.
"I won't let them lay a hand on you, alright? I promise, I will keep you safe. Just promise me one thing," he says, hugging me tighter. I wrap my arms around him and let the tears flow freely. I have calmed a little, as he reassured me that he'll be there to protect me. I nod slowly and wait for what he wants me to promise him. He takes my arm and gently pulls up the sleeve, revealing my tons of deep, bone exposing cuts.
"Please promise me that you won't hurt yourself again," he whispers, kissing my forehead.
"I promise," I say, and look into Austin's chocolaty brown eyes.
"Thank you," he mumbles and has no hesitation in crushing his lips against mine.
What's the point of living when all you do is just live to die? With every single negative thing in life, where are the positives? I don't see any future for me. I don't even have parents or friends to comfort me. I've been disowned twice, and I've been forged into a foster home. I know they only took me for the money that the government gives them to "support" me. Except, they don't really even do that. To simply survive I have to work at a little diner I've scored a job in about three years ago. Today marks the date my parent's died. February 24. I hate the date with much passion, and I can't stand to hear it. Honestly, I want to just stick a gun up my mouth and shoot. I never was prepared to let them go at the age of fourteen. Four years later, I'm still just a fuck up who doesn't know what they're more afraid of; life or death. In two months, graduation will come and I get to be able to get the fuck out of my stupid foster home's house. The only problem is, I know I'll be kicked out. They both know I have no where else to go. I don't have friends, hell I don't even have a fucking family! I don't even understand why I still live, but the only reason I haven't attempted is because I'm too scared. A scaredy cat, you may call me. A pussy, if you intend to be rude. Don't worry, I'm used to it. I'm the target of my school's bullying. Specifically, the only target. I was forced out of the closet a few weeks after my parent's death and since then things haven't gotten much better.
I hear my phone ring and I instantly wonder why. No one has my phone number except my foster parents, and their kid. I don't even know why I gave it to them, it's not like they care about me. "As long as you show up when a social worker is coming, we don't care where the hell you are" is what they tell me. Like I said, they don't give a single fuck about me, they just want their damn money to shower themselves in and spoil Clyde! I mean, I understand why they don't care. I'm just some fat lanky kid with ginger locks that go down mid-neck who's full of scars and hates life. Might as well call me what they call every other kid -- Emo.
But you see, my question is, why did it have to be me? The one with the fucked up life. The one everyone hated. The one homosexual boy who ended up in a school full of homophobes that hate him for something he had no control over? I just wanted to end it all, and stop living this horrible tragedy I'd call hell. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm sure hell is much more pleasant than this. How could things get much worse?
I continue to hear the horrid noise my phone is creating and look to see why it's going fucking insane. That's when I realize I'm late to work. Of course, my boss doesn't mind. She loves me to death, but she tends to forget my name a lot. It was expected. I never expect a nice little old lady to remember my name. Well, no one in general, but she got it right most of the time.
I head over to the window that overlooks the backyard of the house I currently reside in, and quietly but quickly open it. Linda and Joey never liked the fact that I had a job, so normally I sneaked out to avoid social interaction with them at all costs. I did that in general because I simply just didn't want to deal with their bullshit, however. They are just two people I will never like, and they will never like me. It's how the relationship works, as unfortunate it is. The more unfortunate thing is that my room is on the second floor. I find it a miracle that I haven't broken my foot or ankle yet, especially with how clumsy I am. Really, I am like the most klutziest person in the entire universe that still, sadly I may add, exists.
I hop out the window, taking my phone and a can of Monster with me and I walk off to the diner. It's on the other side of town from where my "home" lays, but it isn't a home. I'm all alone, and no one cares for me. I've written a song previously about me, but who cares enough to see? I don't have anyone, and I prefer to keep it that way. I don't need to get hurt again because I'm ignorant enough to let someone in, someone close. No one needs to hear my glass heart breaking.
*time lapse*
I arrive at work and head to Mrs Carlile.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Mrs Carlile," I apologize.
"Oh, no problem dear. I had Taylor cover your shift. You can work the late shift tonight, later. My son flew in last night, he's your age and is just like you! Maybe you like to meet Austin?" Mrs Carlile offers. Almost instantly I start to deny her request, but I stop myself before making any movements. Maybe this could be my chance to make a friend.. My life to get better, and everything to be okay. But, no, I can't let someone close. I can't let me do this to myself. But, if I don't... Will I just let myself die?
"Sure, Mrs Carlile. That would be wonderful," I answer the nice lady. I mentally slap myself. There goes my heart, it's sure to be broken. God, I'm such an idiot sometimes, maybe I am better off dead. No need to be a bother.
"Austin, darling? Alan is here to meet you!" Mrs Carlile yells cheerfully, trotting off to the kitchen to find this Austin boy. I wonder if he'll be a complete homophobe. I hope not. Mrs Carlile says he isn't, but who knows what kind of trick he could be pulling on his mother. I just hope he doesn't say to hell with me and leave me like everyone else. Unfortunately, it's what will most likely happen. I guess I'll just let whatever happens to happen. Sometimes, you know, you just gotta say "Fuck it, you only fucking live once!" Even I, the one who hates the term "YOLO" the most, there is always just those times that you've got to use it. This would be one of those very few times that I'd use it.
I soon see a boy, no man, about 6'4" waltz out of the kitchen area with a pink squid with colorful tentacles lying on his shoulder. He looks strong, buff, yet quite skinny. His chest and arm covered in tattoos of what seems to be about the ocean. I suppose he's like me, as I have a few tattoos myself, and we both have a simple nose ring pierced into a nostril. But, I'm not as handsome as he is. No, I am the most ugliest human being to exist in all times on this planet.
"Hi, Alan. I'm Austin, and this guy here is Squidgy," Austin says, pointing to the colorful squid.
"Squidgy?" I ask hesitantly. I am not fond of making friends, no one's ever tried.
"Yep. He likes to chill there," he chuckles. Maybe making friends won't be so bad.
"How old are you?" I blurt out, instantly blushing. I can't believe I just blurted that out, I sound so much like an idiot. Now he'll think I'm some freak and I just blew the 0.000001% chance I had of making a friend. Good job, Alan. Good fucking job!
Austin laughs. "17, you?" he answers. What?! There is no way this boy is seventeen.
"Really? Me, too!" I say cheerfully. Wait, where the hell did my sudden cheerfulness come from? Honestly, I sometimes think I'm more of a girl because of my random mood swings. They're quite frankly random, and extremely unpleasant, normally.
We walk out of the diner and head to the park that is only a few blocks down.
"What school do you go to?" Austin asks.
"Mission Bay High," I answer. I hope he isn't friends with Vic or Kellin. They're my head bullies. After them come Frank and Gerard, then Jack and Alex, and last of all, Andy and Ashley. I don't know what I did to them, they just hate me and I never knew why. It's always Friday that I'd hate the most, the day of my beating. I'm surprised he hasn't taken a noticing to any bruises on me. Hopefully he won't notice the deep cuts and blotches of dried blood that hasn't been taken care of on my arms. Thank the lord I remembered to put on my Pink Floyd hoodie.
"Seriously? I haven't seen you 'round, before," Austin replies. I didn't know he actually went to my school, but I've seen him around there before.
"You probably haven't seen me because I'm not much of a social person," I say, adding a chuckle to lighten the mood. "I don't really have any friends, and everyone hates me."
"Nonsense, Alan. I don't hate you, I think your a pretty cool guy," he says, pulling me into a hug.
"Haven't you heard what people say about me? I'm a horrible person, I don't even know why you want to be my friend," I say as I begin to feel the soft prickles of water emerging from my eyes. No, Alan! Don't cry in front of him, stop showing your weak side!
"Alan, I don't care what they say," Austin says, making me look him in the eye. "I want to be your friend, and don't you EVER let them put you down. They just want to make you feel bad so they feel better about themselves. Don't let them get to you, okay?"
"B-but they.. They beat me up e-every F-f-friday," I stutter out, shaking violently, barely being able to control my sobs. He probably thinks I'm some sort of cry-baby homosexual freak. Well, if he even does know I am a flaming homo. Most people know from the way I act, but I don't know how Austin is.
"Who is 'they'?" Austin asks urgently. "I need to know, Alan. They need to know they can't do this to you." I shake my head.
"I can't tell you, they'll kill me," I sob. I know they will, they have no care in the world. I don't see whats even stopping them from not killing me now.
"I won't let them lay a hand on you, alright? I promise, I will keep you safe. Just promise me one thing," he says, hugging me tighter. I wrap my arms around him and let the tears flow freely. I have calmed a little, as he reassured me that he'll be there to protect me. I nod slowly and wait for what he wants me to promise him. He takes my arm and gently pulls up the sleeve, revealing my tons of deep, bone exposing cuts.
"Please promise me that you won't hurt yourself again," he whispers, kissing my forehead.
"I promise," I say, and look into Austin's chocolaty brown eyes.
"Thank you," he mumbles and has no hesitation in crushing his lips against mine.