I hated hearing those noises; the ones that sent shivers down my spine each time I heard them. Glass broke, screams erupted, sobs were cried – was I the only person that heard these terrible sounds? It wasn't exactly from my house, but from neighbor's - Arthur Kirkland's house. The boy went to my school, only one year above me. We never really talked much, despite us being neighbors. I don't know; we just never really had the chance to.

He was always quiet, and always wearing makeup to mask the bruises that were left on his cheeks. I was the only one who noticed the slightly different shading of skin on some parts of his face. He seemed to have kept to himself, and I sometimes wished that he would just stand tall and look confident. But his bangs hid his eyes, and his back was always crouched over. Arthur Kirkland was a mess.

There was a loud bang as the door to the Briton's house slammed shut. I peeked through the windows just in time to see a car leave in such a fast motion, I could've swore I saw fire in its tracks.

Okay, no more cartoons for you, Alfred.

My eyes shifted to the window on the side of the house. There he was; a blond English seventeen year old who stood staring at the window sill. I felt sorry for him. He just looked so…hurt. So pained. And as if music had started, Arthur began to dance. It wasn't good dancing, really. But…it surely was mesmerizing. The choreography was unique, and I never would've thought that I would see a boy so – dare, I say it – beautiful.

His movements twisted my heart into a sweet, yet sour way; hurting it, but the pain felt good. He banged on the wall, before spinning away towards the bed, where he would fall onto it as if it were a trust exercise. He turned onto his stomach and kicked his legs for a bit until he pushed off and went back to his amazing style of dancing. He lifted his leg; it went up farther than it should and he held it there for a long amount of time, eyes dull as if he were thinking.

It was two minutes. Arthur held his leg for two minutes – I had been counting – and he then suddenly, he was in a split. I didn't really see how he was suddenly on a ground, doing a split, but I was in so much awe to even care. I leant closer to the window. Faintly, I heard music – something that sounded like:

…gonna swing….chandelier

…Chandelier…

I never heard of the song, but it seemed like a song that Arthur was passionate about. I never seen him so serious before. His hips moved swiftly in a back and forth motion – his expression was stern, mouth open as if he were gasping for air that wasn't there. He wrapped himself in the curtains to his window, twisting in them and getting tangled. There was a point where he wrapped a curtain around his neck as though he were choking himself.

But I'm holding on for dear life,

won't look down, won't open my eyes
Keep my glass full until morning light, '

'cause I'm just holding on for tonight…

Arthur's parents were alcoholics. They fought often, and sometimes their fights got rough. There were times when Arthur got involved. It wasn't that hard to tell that the family was broken. They tried to hide it by putting on fake smiles and giving each other false kisses, but I could always see through the masquerade. Arthur's eyes were always lifeless around his parents. He was a puppet, and they were his puppeteers. I met his parents once. They acted nice and very friendly, but there was always something…off about them. I never got around to liking them.

Arthur bounced off the wall, doing a cartwheel in his simple room. It only contained a bed and a wardrobe. He was skinny, a bit too skinny for my liking. He crawled on the floor, nails digging into the carpet as he dragged his feet behind him. He moved to the corner of the room. I couldn't see much from there. It was blocked by the wardrobe. But as quick as he disappeared, Arthur came back.

He twirled, smiling a creepy and twisted grin. He bowed, looking straight at me. He bowed again. And I felt as though he put this whole performance for me. He bowed once more and the smile disappeared. And then he just continued to stare at me for the longest time.

Green eyes meeting my blue; I saw what he needed: help.

He needed a hero.

He need me.

()()()()()()()()()()

I am in love with Sia's Chandelier and I thought about the background for it, hearing that it was about Sia's past as a child, and how here parents weren't always the kindest, so I based Arthur's life off of her life (in a way). Hoped you liked it. And maybe I'll make more in the future.