Disclaimer: As much I wish I did, I do not own Alvinnn! And the Chipmunks or any of it's characters. I only own the plot and Spike.
Alvin breathed a sigh of relief as he collapsed back onto the covers, unable to sit up any longer. He took in a few large breaths of air, attempting to calm his erratic heartbeat and breathing. He closed his eyes, stopping the tears in their tracks.
He knew how to calm himself down after these nightmares seeing as they happened often. Even so, it was kind of difficult. This was by far the worst he's had so far.
He looked towards the sides of his bed, already knowing his brothers would be there. They were staring at him, concern gleaming in their eyes. It seemed like lately, the only time he actually sees them is during the middle of the night.
"Alvin, are you okay?" Theodore asked, not expecting an answer, but still hopeful.
"Of course I am. Don't you worry about me Teddy-boy." Alvin faked a smile, reaching to ruffle Theodore's already messy hair. Using one of Theodore's nicknames felt wrong. It was something he only used, but he didn't feel like himself.
Simon and Theodore each sighed before returning to their beds. They didn't bother saying anything else, knowing it wouldn't end well for them. That, and they knew Alvin wouldn't say anything. They can barely get him to speak to them anyway. Every time they tried, Alvin just gave a quick response and returned to whatever he was doing.
Alvin knows they assume he's just being rude, that he's ignoring them, but he's not. He just can't stand to look at them anymore. Every time he did, a storm of negativity and self-hatred brewed, casting down its bolts and forcing him away from them.
He wished he wasn't like this, but he knew it had to be. If he stopped, things from nightmares would become a reality, and he did NOT want that. He wouldn't be able to live with himself. Heck, he can barely live with himself now.
He lives his life in fear of messing up. In fear of what would come if he made a small mistake. Due to this, he refuses to mess up, doing his best to avoid insults in any way he possibly can. He knows they're going to come anyway, but he doesn't want to give them justification. One of the problems with this is his lack of ability to concentrate. He spent an hour per page of homework, half of the time just trying to get himself to return his focus back to his homework.
The problem with perfection is that it's extremely stressful. You worry about not tripping over your own feet in fear of being called clumsy, you worry about getting every problem correct in fear of being called stupid, you try to avoid conversation in fear of being called annoying. There was one thing he couldn't control, though. One thing that was racking up insults.
His anger. He doesn't like it, a matter a fact he hates it, but he can't control it. All it takes is one thing, one little thing to trigger him. And when that happened, everyone knew it. He screams and shouts insults, making them as hurtful as he possibly can.
It was killing him, yet he couldn't do anything about it.
Whenever he got like that, his body took control before his brain. He spits out insults before he can think about it. He screams at himself to stop, but he just can't. It was like he was a robot. Following commands with no way to retaliate. He always regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, yet part of him didn't.
Part of him was happy. Part of him was proud.
And it was killing him.
It was like some crazy obsession he couldn't pull away. Anger was his drug. He knows he shouldn't and he is ashamed, yet there's a sick satisfaction he gets from it. He didn't want it, but whenever an insult left his lips, his shame always mixed with a gratification. He didn't know why it was there, but it filled him with guilt every time he felt it.
Due to this, whenever he snapped from his uncontrollable rage, he always made sure he was alone after. So no one would see him ashamed. So no one would see him in such a state of remorse. These spurts of anger, these trances, always ended with twice the fury of before. Any ounce of satisfaction left with the anger, leaving him in a puddle of emotions.
He was split between multiple personalities. He had his angry, hateful side, his broken side, and his old self. His old self is merely a shadow in the back of his mind he refused to allow to come into the light. He was too shamefaced to show that person. That being said, he wasn't proud of what he's become.
He wasn't sure what he was supposed to be anymore.
On one hand, he wanted to be that cheerful troublemaker again, but the other part of him could only criticize that person. Because of this, he didn't want to be that person. He couldn't be that person. Not anymore.
He knows he's selfish, and he knows he's arrogant, he always has, but he never thought so badly of it. He knew those weren't good qualities to have, but he also had some good ones. He had just accepted that about himself and moved on, knowing it was just who he was.
But it's hard to be happy with yourself when every quality you were once proud of is ripped from your grip. He tried to hold on, he really did, but after a few weeks he got exhausted with fighting, eventually giving up. After that he just took it, not even trying to deny anything. He just allowed it to tear him down.
Speaking of tearing things down, he's been ripping everything he's spent years building apart within the past two months. His reputation was disappearing due to his silence, his athletic skill is coming to a halt due to lack of practice, and he was destroying every relationship he's built with insults such as:
"Aw, did Miss Pretty Pink princess get something on her skirt? How tragic."
"Would you just shut up already? We don't care about what you got at the mall."
"English please!"
"Why do we care about you and Simon's nerdy experiments."
"You're such a shallow diva. It was one game!"
"If you're not going to do anything, can you leave and bake me something. At least then you'd be useful."
"Four-eyed freak!"
"Blah Blah Blah! Go talk to someone who cares!"
"Fatty!"
"You're so naïve. Being like that only sets you back in life."
Alvin tried to rid of the burning in his eyes but was unsuccessful. He wasn't going to cry. He was NOT going to cry. Not after two months without it. He's lasted this long and he can go longer. He did want to cry, but that was for the weak. And he wasn't showing his weaknesses today.
He doesn't even know where the insults come from, he just spews them before he can filter. Every time he does, the looks of hurt and disgust is enough to make him hate himself all over again. Actually, hate is an understatement.
He loathed himself.
He could never understand why someone would torture everyone around him by allowing him to come to this earth. He was a waste of space, a jerk that never should've been born. If he wasn't here, everyone would be so much happier.
The thought was depressing, but Alvin didn't doubt it. After two months of being force-fed the insults, he just ate them without any retaliation, which there was a lot of in the beginning. What was the point in fighting if it was going to just keep coming? What was the point of fighting a force more powerful than yourself?
He stopped the cannons but kept his defense. Instead of trying to fight, he just built his walls higher to drown everything else out. It was working, but the walls were starting to crumble. He wasn't sure how much longer they could go, so he built them higher, covering and overlying the cracks of the other ones.
Despite this, damage was still being made. Sometimes the walls were too crumbled to just build over, so there are a few weak spots. Other than that, he had created a buffer from reality, an internal barrier to save from anymore emotional pain.
A couple people have tried to break through, but a single fire from him got them to stop trying and just leave him alone again.
Beep…. Beep... Beep….
He slammed his fist down onto the snooze button, groggily rubbing his eyes and dreadfully rolling out of bed.
How had time passed so fast?
Ignoring the flying time, he stumbled to his closet, grabbing the first two things he saw, seeing as everything was the same. He snatched a small glance at the clothing, pausing as he realized something.
Red.
He tried to pick up his feet and continue to the bathroom, but his feet stayed planted in place. He didn't want to wear the sweater. He didn't want to wear the red sweater. The red sweater. He sighed as he turned back to his closet, his mind only thinking about the sweater's color.
Red. The color of blood.
His mind flashed to the images of his brothers, each coating in the color. His signature color. After observing this, Alvin couldn't just slip on the sweater and go about his day. He opened the closet, scanning for some other sweater to wear, preferable a darker color. Blood stains show less on darker colors. Red, red, and more red. Was that all he ever wore?
Dang. He needed some diversity.
He let out a defeated eye, turning around as something caught his eye. He hesitantly reached for it, clutching the inky black color of the sweatshirt. He debated whether he should wear it or not, knowing he was sure to get questions. Deciding to just ignore anyone who asks questions, he nodded, throwing his tomato-red sweater back into the closet and rushing towards the bathroom.
He always tried to be the first up and out the door, hopefully without anyone else approaching him. He didn't need that kind of tension and guilt so early in the morning.
Silently closing the door behind him, he hurried to do everything he had to, quickly slipping of his sweater and pajama shirt. He knew the bruises were there, so he didn't bother looking. He threw on the black sweater, which had a dark grey A on the front. He almost never wore this, only when he was acting as Lorenzo-Lorenzo, actor and spy.
After quickly brushing his teeth and doing his business, he peeked out of the bathroom. His brothers were starting to wake up, seeing as the alarm was going off again. He groaned, knowing he had to be quick. He broke into a beeline for the other side of the room, grabbing his bag and skateboard and running out of the room quicker than you could snap your fingers.
He sighed in relief when he made it to the hallway unnoticed. After a few seconds, he started creeping towards the staircase, skateboard in hand, his backpack slung over his shoulder. There was no smell wafting from the kitchen, so he could safely assume they were just eating cereal.
Well, Simon and Theodore were eating cereal.
As of lately, he hasn't been that hungry. It only took about five decent bites of something for him to last for two days. Part of this was also due to the fact food has lost its taste. Instead of the sugary rush of unhealthy cereal in the morning, he simply tasted bland cornflakes.
Dave and his brothers seem to have picked up on this, but they still forced him to eat, which extremely frustrated him. If he's not hungry, he's not hungry, and if he's not hungry, don't force him to eat. It's that simple.
He growled slightly at that, stepping off the bottom stair and looking around. No nagging father in sight.
He spun towards the door, running towards it as he prayed no one would stop him. He really doubted that would happen, but you never know.
"Hey Alvin, aren't you going to eat?" Dave asked in a stern, forceful tone. Alvin froze, jumping behind a corner in case he came out of the kitchen.
"How did you know it was me?"
"You're always the first down in the morning." His tone was dry and peeved, and while this upset Alvin in the slightest, he had gotten used to it.
"Oh, right," Alvin chuckled nervously, "No Dave, I'm just gonna head out."
"Alvin, you need to eat," Dave affirmed bluntly.
"If I don't want to eat, then I don't need to eat!" Alvin snapped, internally smacking himself.
"You know what Alvin? Fine. Just go." Alvin rolled his eyes, despite the feeling that had settled in his chest. He peeked around the corner, checking to see if Dave was still in the kitchen. Realizing he had never come out, he broke out into a dash for the door.
He cast a sad glance towards the kitchen before opening the door, slamming it shut behind him. He heard the house shake slightly, and the echo that roared throughout the house after. But, like everything else going on around him, he ignored it.
He pulled his phone out of his bag, checking the time. He had about fifteen minutes until the bus came, but he wasn't sure he wanted to wait that long. Deciding to take the lazy route, he leaned against the fence, lack of sleep catching up with him.
Seeing as he was supposed to drive with Dave today, he doesn't really have to worry about his brothers coming out. He stared down at the concrete, attempting to pull his cap over his head before realizing he never grabbed it. He moaned as he clenched his fists.
He bit his lip, tugging on his sleeve as he looked back towards his house. He missed talking to them. He missed the kick he'd get from their annoyed faces. He missed having fun and fixing things with his schemes and plans. He especially missed the group hangouts with the girls.
But he has noticed he's not the only reason he doesn't see the girls anymore. They have been purposely avoiding him, Brittany being above all. She was probably holding a few grudges. He noticed if they're hanging with his brothers and he comes in, they leave, claiming to have something to do. He sees the looks of hate and disgust, he sees the hurt looks he often receives.
Just another reason he stared at the ceiling at night, trying to piece together what was wrong with him.
He knows he's been a huge jerk lately, but he always has been. He knows he's been withdrawn lately, but why would you go out of your way to avoid someone you barely see to begin with? Any other time he wouldn't care, brushing it off like a piece of dust, most like sleuthing to find out what he did. Now, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Maybe it was his arrogance. Or his attitude. Or his ego. He wasn't sure anymore.
Screech…Phssss….
He snapped his head up, noticing the lemon-yellow vehicle now in front of him. He forced himself to pick up his feet, trying to rid of the pit in his stomach. He turned back his house and came up with an idea.
Maybe I could skip….
Honk!
He shook the thought away, hopping onto the bus and sliding into the seat usually occupied by him and his brothers. He plopped his bag next to him, telling everyone he didn't want to be bothered. He stared out the window, watching the green and white blobs whiz by. The trees could barely be seen before they disappeared from sight.
The blobs abruptly became trees and houses, causing him to look around the place in confusion. His brothers and him were usually the last stop, so why were they stopping? He hasn't ridden the bus in a while, but they haven't added a new stop since Amber moved into her mansion about a year ago.
He shrugged before turning back to the window. The bus shook from a few kids stumbling on, causing him to sway ever so slightly in his seat. He leaned against the cool, moist glass, tracing his finger along the window, leaving different designs in the glass.
He felt someone plop into the seat next to him and whipped around, a cross look on his face. After catching a quick glance of who it was, he turned back around, pushing himself in the corner slightly. He felt a slight poke in his side, causing him to squirm a little.
When multiple followed after that, he realized that the kid wanted a reaction out of him. So, instead of complying, he clenched his jaw and stared out the window, still as a statue. A few more jabs were sent to his side as he practically willed himself not to react.
He felt a small buzz in his pocket as he sent the kid next to him a look, eyebrows raised.
'If you think you can ignore me you're going to be proved dead wrong.'
Alvin rolled his eyes, swallowing his fear as he returned his gaze to his window. It was relaxing, watching the green blurs pass in silence, but despite the calm atmosphere, he was still extremely tense. He heard a small growl behind him, tensing a little more.
Two hands roughly grabbed his shoulder, whipping him around to meet the ice-cold glare of his attacker. A few people turned their attention towards them to where everyone was eventually watching them in anticipation.
Spike seemed to notice this as he quickly loosened his grip and shoved him into the window. Dusting himself off, Alvin stood up, grumbling as he did so. As everyone slowly turned their attention away from them, Alvin let out a sigh of ease, quickly shutting up when he saw Spike's glare.
The bus came to a sudden halt, lurching Alvin forward in his seat. Alvin glanced out the window, confirming they were at the school. The plaza had a decent amount of people chatting in it, but nowhere near as much as usual.
The storm of conversations continued as the first row of students started filing off. Alvin let himself get comfortable, seeing as they were going to be there a while. It always baffled him how long people take to get off the bus. You grab your stuff and get off; it's not rocket science!
He found himself occasionally looking over at Spike, checking to make sure he wasn't going to try anything. When it was their turn to get off, he made Spike get off first to avoid any future embarrassment.
Shoving his skateboard in his bag, he followed the long line of people stretching throughout the bus. He finally got off the bus, walking straight to the school with no intention of stopping. He wasn't going to burden those around him with his lame conversations, so he didn't even bother with the thought.
He spotted his siblings and friends by the lockers, taking a deep breath.
Lecture time.
The hallway chatter fell silent as everyone's eyes landed on him. He squirmed a little, speeding up his walk to his locker. Silence became whispers, which was worse in his opinion. Knowing they were talking about you, yet unable to know what they are saying.
This is going to be a long day…
Alvin sighed as he approached his locker. His muscles were tense and stiff as he turned the dial on the locker door, but he did his best not to show it. He risked a glance towards the group, who were looking at him with wide eyes and dropped jaws. He didn't blame them. He's worn red every day for years and now he's suddenly showing up in black.
But that didn't stop the annoyance from building.
He understands being a little shocked, but staring was completely unnecessary. He bit his tongue to keep himself from snarling at them. It got harder as a metallic taste filled his mouth.
"Take a picture. It'll last longer." There it is. He didn't say anything too bad, but it had the same effect.
"Alvin, what are you wearing?" Simon questioned him, a baffled and disappointed tone to his voice.
"Clothes." They groaned, silencing when they heard the buzz of a phone.
Alvin pulled out his phone, his expression blank.
'You're a nobody. Everyone would be happier if you'd just drop dead.' For the first time in a while, since the texts started to be exact, he responded.
'Would you just leave me alone?!'
'Nah, it's more fun this way.' Alvin groaned, slamming his locker and resting his forehead on it. He felt their eyes burning holes in his back.
He didn't stick around after that. He knew they weren't going to care enough to ask, not that he wanted them to. He stormed off, angrily rambling as he caught a glimpse of them rolling their eyes. While their lack of concern was hurting him, he simply rolled his eyes and growled.
He slid into his desk, careful not to hit his sore muscles. The second he relaxed in his chair, his anger melted away. While he hated his anger, part of him was glad he had it. It masked his emotions and was a fire in his otherwise empty and cold body. A fire he was beginning to crave.
Buzz.
'Maybe that's why they hate you so much. Because you are so hard to be around. I'm surprised they've put up with you for this long.'
He felt that oh-so-familiar pang in his chest. He simply shook his head and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He propped his elbows on the table, stressfully rubbing the sides of his face with his hands.
The warning bell rang, signaling everyone to their classrooms. Students filed in like ants, brewing a tornado in the once undisturbed place. Alvin caught bits and pieces of some conversations but didn't care enough to actually listen.
Ring!
"Okay class, today I have a couple of…. quiet!" Everyone immediately turned their attention towards the teacher.
"Good. So today I have a couple of- "She was interrupted once more by the intercom. Miss Smith groaned as she rolled her eyes, heading to her desk.
"Hello everyone, hope you're having a wonderful Friday so far," Alvin rolled his eyes. He was having everything but that. "We've got a couple of announcements today. First off, we'll be having a school play in a few weeks. Auditions will be tonight. Contact your teacher for more information. Secondly, we're going to have a bullying expert come and educate about bullying- "
Alvin felt his breath hitch, which Theodore noticed and glanced over at him. Alvin didn't hear the rest of the announcement, he was too focused on the last part he heard. Bullying expert? Why? Why now?!
Would this person be able to scope him out? Reveal he was being picked on like a dinner plate?
Was it called bullying when you deserve it?
He didn't think so, so he was unsure what to call it. But that wasn't what he was worried about. What if someone saw the signs because of it? What would happen to them? What would happen to him?...
He slammed his head on the desk, creating a rather loud thudding noise throughout the classroom. He heard people groan all around him. They probably thought he was upset with whatever was just said. Theodore was looking at him in deep concern, unsure what to do. He knew something was really wrong with him, but no one would listen. Everyone else assumed he was just being a jerk. Whenever he tried to ask Alvin he either got snapped at, or Alvin just insisted he was fine.
Theodore was about to turn back to the board when something caught his eye. There was a dark purple bruise on the back of Alvin's neck that was barely visible. He tilted his head in confusion. Alvin must've noticed him because an angry scowl appeared on his face. Theodore shrunk back, turning his attention back to the board.
Lunch.
The second most dangerous part of his day. He had tried to stay in the classroom, but Miss Smith kicked him out. Now, he wasn't sure where to go. He didn't grab his lunch, and he didn't feel like interacting with others, so he decided against the lunchroom. Besides, he didn't feel like facing his siblings. Not that they would talk to him anyway. He knew he couldn't just hang around the hallways for long, so he went to the first place he could think of.
The library.
It was a dusty old place which he's only been once. The musty smell of books greeted him as he entered the chamber. The lighting was dim, just enough to read whatever you were reading, and books lined the old oak shelves.
He sat in one of the chairs, running a finger over the table. His finger had some dust on it when it came back up, but nowhere near as much as the shelves. He wiped the entire table down with his shelve, sitting in one of the chairs and pulling out his bag. No one else was around to talk to, and he had nothing better to do. He pulled out his homework, history and math being blank, science having all the answers filled, seeing as it was from the previous day and he just hasn't had time to turn it in.
He pulled out his history textbook so he could copy answers from it. He heard someone clear his throat behind him, trying to get his attention. He turned around, meeting the slate colored eyes of the librarian.
Her dry, wrinkly hands were resting on the telephone as she watched him. Her thin lips wore a scowl as she watched him, her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. Her gray hair was up in a messy bun with two pencils sticking out of the top. Overall, she looked like the typical librarian.
"What are you doing here?" She snapped at him, making him flinch. He wasn't welcomed anywhere.
"I'm, um, just doing my homework," He told her, watching as she rolled her eyes. She was one crusty old lady.
"Don't use that on me, I've heard all about you," She informed him, making him raise a brow at her.
"Seriously?! I've got my homework and textbook out, how much more proof do you need?"
She didn't respond, but he heard her mutter, "They were right about you being rude."
He felt his lips purse, his grip on his pencil tightening. He huffed and rolled his eyes, making her do the same. He had a feeling they were not hitting it off anytime soon.
The dismissal bell shrieked throughout the school, announcing to everyone that they were free from their daily learning sessions. Alvin was quick to jump up from his seat and follow the stream of students exiting the building. He did stop by his locker, but it was a quick trip, seeing as he had grabbed most of his stuff earlier in the day.
He ran out of the building, throwing his skateboard down onto the concrete and hopping onto it, speeding off towards town. He was heading towards the pet shop, seeing as he had gotten a job their late last month. That was when he realized he couldn't satisfy Spike's greed with chores alone.
He had looked all around town, looking for a job he could keep hidden. After a lot of pondering and thought, he decided on the pet shop. His family didn't own, and weren't planning on owning, any pets or animals, so he was safe there.
He made a decent amount of money, about thirty-five bucks a day. He had requested to receive his money daily instead of weekly. When he asked that, the manager gave him an odd look, asking why he would agree to do that.
"Because I need to buy food for the family next door on a daily basis, seeing as it is very large. They're in debt and could use some help," It was a stupid and poor excuse, but the manager bought it, and Alvin couldn't help feeling bad for lying. That guilt quickly passed when he received his first paycheck.
He had expected to get fired within the first week of working due to his new, fiery temper, which would've left him to search for a new job, but that never happened. Whenever he got really anger or annoyed with a customer, he bit his tongue and continued being nice, something that really puzzled him.
He could be nice and considerate to total strangers, yet he couldn't with his own family.
If possible, that made him feel worse about himself.
He stopped his skateboard, allowing it to fly into his hands as he pushed on the single glass door leading to the pet shop. The familiar smell of dog food and rubber rushed to his nostrils, the air-conditioned air of the place engulfing him as the door shut behind him.
"Well, let's get to work."
Hey guys! I know this chapter kinda took a different turn, but it will get better. You just have to hang with me. I know this is late, and I would like to apologize. For some reason, people decided they wanted to get me a life. I hope you enjoyed! Tell me what you thought, maybe things to improve. I don't know, I just like hearing your opinions on my writing.
I also wanted to mention that I know that the outfit change does seem like a lot, but he does it multple times in the series. He has a habit of changing his change, and while it's usually his golfer-grampa outfit, it's too lightly colored for this. Anyway, that's all from me, hope you enjoyed!
Peace Out!
