A/N: Title comes from the Twisted Sister song of the same name. Expect sporadic updates. I fractured my ankle five days ago so forgive any incoherence.
i
Much like a magnet, Chester was able to draw people toward him with the kind of ease that would be useful later in life. He could smile and the pearly sheen would mesmerize anyone to the point where it was probably pitiful and even a little immoral to cause such a deep reaction, stirring within someone's inner self; even a hard hearted jerk could succumb, but that was a lot of power for a boy like him to hold in the palms of his hands. It would've scared Chester that he had so much power in the palms of his hands, especially since he lived in a huge, sprawling city.
Chester was just a tiny blip on everyone's radar, which was somewhat surprising given how charming and dynamic and friendly and laid-back he was towards people. The sum of his parts apparently didn't add up to much. Chester was nothing more than a nameless body in a sea of other people; this sea of people, living their lives in a selfish bubble, could only be noticed by people like Chester, who kept his posture straight. He knew that people were more comfortable with their heads faced to the ground, focused on their steps furthering their own mobility rather than the gorgeous scenery around them or the vast expanse of the bright blue sky. Chester sighed at that thought. It was morbid and it was self-deprecating and it wouldn't be useful to think it, but there was enough truth in the statement that it weighed on Chester's shoulders.
I guess I'm more cynical and jaded rather than optimistic… Chester thought, all doom and gloom.
For now, as a teenager whose biggest worry was combatting high school gossip, he had very little incentive to utilize his charm. It was easier to skate by, doing just the bare minimum in order to succeed. He was a small fish in a pond so big that it was probably closer to an ocean. That didn't scare him, though. The world existed to bow at his feet, and Chester could probably get used to it, if he wasn't so comfortable sitting in the background.
He wasn't forgettable, not in the slightest, but he was determined to be forgotten; Chester was comfortable relegated to the background, where he had carved a niche for himself, with good enough grades to put him on a track to semi-success and enough friends to stave off the crippling combination of isolation and loneliness. He sat in the back of the classroom, and it wasn't a detriment to his academics, despite what his teachers had told him over and over again. Chester had enough of a comfortable life not being questioned for his actions or sought after for his looks.
He wasn't ready for the implications of being thrust into the spotlight.