1959
A baby is born, bald and squalling. His face is red and twisted, his tiny fists flailing. His mother breathes a long sigh, knowing his life will be long and painful. His father is too busy for him, away at his silly war. This boy will grow up alone. She knows this and smiles at him anyways, because that smile will be the only sun he has for a long time.
1977
He is a tall boy. Long and lanky, his eyes intelligent but not at all welcoming.
He has been alone for too long already. He strayed away from people in high school, and now nobody wants him. Not his teachers, not his peers, not his parents. He doesn't care anymore. He alienates everyone, watches his grades soar and his personal life diminish. Not like he ever had one. Once he crashed a football player's party and seduced the boys girlfriend, but he couldn't even kiss her without feeling sick from the stench of alcohol on her breath and the slick sweat on her back.
He enters college with the feel of new beginnings lingering on his fingertips, and a smile on his thin lips. He can't help himself: maybe this time someone will like him. He doubts it, but he can't help but hope. Even if it is such a small hope.
1978
He knew it was doomed from the start.
1979
Maybe new beginnings aren't quite his thing. This is another chance, he tells himself. Like your peers, he tells himself.
But he won't. He is much too smart and even more used to using people and then leaving them to eat his dust. Although he wants this to be his new home, he cannot begin to comprehend how to make it happen. He would much rather show his teachers how amazing his papers are then listen to his dorm-mates talk about the last time they were wasted.
They annoy him too much, so he plays his first trick on them: he moves Anthony Rice's entire dorm room into the lobby.
No one ever finds out that it is him rigging all the toilets in the boys bathroom to cave in when they're sat on.
1988
He has been pulling his hair out over his career for so long he can't even begin to remember the way it is to be free. He steps out into the mid-morning frost with his boom box and a paper bag full of his last dorm room nick-nacks. With the only thoughts in his head being 'I should have been out ages ago', he spreads his arms wide and dives into the world, his lips pulled back into a smirk.
1994
He never expected to be in a relationship. He wasn't a relationship kind of person.
Heck, the last relationship he'd had was purely body on body, skin on skin, hips on hips. And he wasn't even sure anyone would want him now. He looked too much like an abused dog. Plus, he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper shave.
But she makes him happy. She knows what he wants, what he needs. She teaches him things. She teaches him kindness. He leans on her when his day goes badly. She lets him.
It was more than anyone ever gave him, and he secretly appreciates it.
1999
There is so much pain he can't even hold on to consciousness anymore. He is swimming in an ocean between reality and a dark expansion in his head. She--who has always cradled him--touches his leg and he lets out a cry. He can't tell if it's out loud or in his head, though, he just knows that she is pulling her hands away in alarm.
There is nothing logical in this.
He is being lifted into a car, some kind of car, one he doesn't recognize. She is beside him.
His body is being overridden.
After three days, they finally put him under.
2002
He hates everyone now. His hair is always messy and he hasn't shaved in years. His eyes are often bloodshot, his fingers and face wrinkled. He can hear people whisper behind his back, in awe of his fame and his temper. He doesn't care.
He preaches through actions and words.
He doesn't have anyone, and he doesn't need anyone.