YAY! I've made it to 50 chapters! (Who ever thought I'd make it this far, huh?) (seriously, I am incredibly proud of myself. I never thought I'd get this far.)
Anyway, to celebrate such an awesome moment, I have written this mega-drabble about each of the heroes' deepest fears. I have to warn you guys that this turned out considerably darker than I'd perhaps intended. But at the same time: I'm quite proud of it, and I hope you guys can enjoy reading it.
Also, (don't worry, I'll be quiet soon) two more things. One: THANK YOU SO, SO, SO MUCH to my reviewers. I can never thank you guys enough. Two: I have a little announcement... I happen to have a tumblr (my URL is youresuchagem ). I don't blog about COTT, but I do blog about me, my interests, and occasionally post photos I've taken or some of my non-fanfiction writing, and I figured that given I've hit 50 chapters, it's time I shared my blog with you guys. Anyway, happy 50th chapter!
The bench was hard and cold, pressing into Atlanta as she sat with her head in her hands. Her muscles ached with fatigue, and her ankle was sore from when she'd sprained it mid-game; not that Atlanta had let it stop her. Blisters were beginning to show their red, sore welts on her hands and sweat had drenched every inch of her clothes. The cool wind gusting through the emptying stadium had little impact on Atlanta as her fists pressed into her eyes, feeling the hot, warm tears seeping into her gloves. Atlanta's breath was becoming rushed and sharp, and she begged herself to calm it down.
Come on, Atlanta. She told herself sternly, eyes squeezed shut tight to hold the tears in.
It's just losing.
"You…you don't think I'm beautiful?"
"That's what I said, yea."
Neil's eyes flicked to the ground, suddenly warm and wet.
What? Am I- am I crying?
"I know… I know I'm conceited. And vain. And I spend a lot of money on product…." Neil began, his hands unconsciously picking his fingernails. "I have flaws. Just… just not ugliness. I don't have that flaw, right?"
"Well, what did you think I said then, idiot?"
"I dunno…."
Her fast, angry footsteps told Neil she had left. He was still afraid to look up; scared his eyes might betray him. A gentle shudder seemed to be rising in Neil's chest.
Later, Neil found himself in the bathroom, confronting the mirror.
She's- she's just silly. Jealous. That's it, jealous of my good looks…
But mirror Neil seemed to know that real Neil was lying.
Stop making excuses. She's right.
There was a vindictive, cruel edge to the face that stared back at Neil from the mirror. Neil's own eyes were softened with tears, but the face staring at him was hardened with hatred.
No… you're wrong. I've always been beautiful. I am beautiful.
The mirror Neil seemed to laugh.
Beautiful? Please. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and she made it pretty obvious. She's the first one that's been honest with you.
Real Neil bit his lip. Hard.
Don't listen. You've always been told you're beautiful. Ignore the mirror.
But that was the problem: Neil could never escape the mirror.
I don't ask for much.
Herry's knuckles were white over the steering wheel.
I don't ask for good grades, or some crazy high-paying job, or Olympic medals for weightlifting.
His eyes were of stone: staring down the road, flickering only occasionally. He sucked a deep breath in, then forced it back out again.
Just keep them safe.
The wheel swerved to avoid a deer, before quickly returning to the lane. Herry scarcely noticed himself driving, his hands were tingling so badly. The buzzing was getting louder in his head, the lump in his throat tight.
Granny, Neil, Jay, Theresa, Archie, Atlanta, Odie.
His foot pressed further down on the accelerator, and the black road slipped beneath Herry even faster.
I don't get mad. I don't punch people, or cheat on tests, or gloat about my strength. I don't expect a whole lot from life, okay?
The lights in the distance began to grow bigger, and Herry's stomach felt like acid. His heart was beating madly against his chest.
But please, please, please… they're everything to me.
Let them live.
The violet sunset was like a portrait outside Theresa's window as she sat at her desk, ready to start her homework. Just as Theresa pulled her pen out, a cacophony of yelling began from the teenager's separate rooms.
"THE LAWS OF SIMPLE HARMONIC MOTION FOLLOW A TRIGONOMETRIC GRAPH…" (That was Odie)
"DID ATLANTA MAKE IT HOME SAFE TODAY?" (Archie's voice…)
"DAMMIT, I MEANT TO BUY THE ASH BLONDE, NOT GOLDEN BLONDE." (Neil. duh.)
"OKAY, LAST TIME CRONUS WAS SEEN WAS IN BARCELONA…" (Jay, of course, from the bedroom next to Theresa's)
"I WONDER WHAT'S FOR DINNER?" (no prizes for guessing who that was)
"Can you all stop yelling random stuff?!" Theresa complained, sticking her head out of her room. "I don't know if this is some joke, but it's really irritating!"
Thankfully, the noise stopped for a moment.
Jay stuck his head out of the door.
"Jay, why are you yelling? We hear about Cronus sightings all the time." Theresa began, confused.
"Huh?"
"You were just yelling, about seeing Cronus in Barcelona."
"I don't think I was…" Jay began, looking confused. "Were you reading my thoughts again?"
"No! I was just… I just sat down to do my homework and everyone started yelling."
"SHE'S READING THOUGHTS. MAYBE SHE CAN'T TURN IT OFF."
"Jay, why are you yelling at me?" Theresa demanded, becoming extremely confused. "And why are you talking to me in third person?"
"Huh? Theresa, I haven't said anything."
"OH MY… SHE CAN'T CONTROL HER POWERS. MAYBE SHE'S LOSING CONTROL."
"I'm not losing control, you guys are just playing some weird trick on me!" Theresa begged, her green eyes searching for the familiar calm of Jay's. Instead, she saw only panic reflected back at her.
"You hear it too, right? Right? Joke's over, Jay." Theresa was pleading now.
"THERE BETTER BE HEAPS OF DINNER TONIGHT."
"I HATE IT WHEN ARCHIE RUNS FASTER THAN ME. HE'S ALWAYS SO PRETENTIOUS ABOUT IT."
"WHY ARE JAY AND THERESA SOUNDING SO WORRIED?"
"I DON'T THINK THERESA'S OKAY. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HER?"
"See?!" Theresa gestured down the corridor wildly. "Everyone's yelling. Can't you hear them?"
Jay took a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself. His eyebrows knitted together in perfect, honest confusion.
"Theresa, I- no one's playing a trick. No one is yelling."
"WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THERESA?"
"I'm… I can't… You're lying…" Theresa's words were mismatched, spat out between hysterical breaths. "Please, no, I… I just…" Her words were mumbled, barely heard over the yelling voices. Her body slid to the ground, palms meeting the scratchy carpet of the Brownstone. "This isn't real, please…"
Theresa scrunched her eyes shut, her breath racing out of control. Her voice became quieter, cracking on every word.
"I can't be losing it. I promised I could control it. I can't…"
The stars peppered the night sky around Jay, the cool wind gusting noisily around the roof top. Stargazing was always supposed to help, but even the peace and magic of the stars wasn't enough tonight. Jay's shoulders were hunched over as he stared out at the bustling New Olympia, throbbing with life before him. Hundreds of lives- men and women and children. Grandfathers. Aunties. Mothers. Daughters. Sons. And every one of them, every single one, depended upon Jay. More than they would ever realise.
Jay's eyes were unseeing- the lights of the city blurred into a mosaic of colours. His hands were numb on the concrete railing. His fist clenched, fingernails biting hard into the skin that had long since begun bleeding. Everything was saturated with pain; especially Jay's head. How he wished he could just close his eyes, and let this whole terrifying world disappear. He wished he could just scream, scream it out and let everything feel better. Or just disappear, and leave all of the suffocating pressures hanging over Jay's head far behind.
But every time Jay tried to let go of it all and forget today's mistakes, his thoughts rose up to taunt him.
Because every single one of those people were depending on Jay.
And he'd failed them.
Odie's hands shook as he stared at the fat F on the paper. Not just any paper; the paper that contained his final exam, the main determinant in his university studies. His vision blurred; the F was barely clear. Heat rose in Odie; suddenly, his bedroom was stifling. His hands fumbled as he shoved his jacket off clumsily, clawing for cool, refreshing air.
Odie's trembling hand placed the paper on his desk, and Odie forced himself to take a deep breath and look around the room. At the many, many formulas that littered his walls. The scrunched up papers from failed practice questions. The piles of notes that took months to compile. The practice exams that found their way into every drawer in his room. The debris of short, over-used pens and pencils and erasers and badly written mind maps. The perfect study plan that Odie had kept to exactly for 3 months straight.
Odie looked at it all, and he couldn't bear to see it.
The flames flickered before Archie, casting specks of light across his face as he watched the Brownstone fireplace avidly. The kitchen clock read 2am, and a quiet hubbub of breathing and snoring was Archie's only company.
"Okay, should be hot enough now…" Archie mumbled to himself, grabbing the black diary and placing it gently on the flames. A part of Archie wanted to take it back; to yank the precious book free of the flames before it's contents were lost forever.
But that was the point of all this.
Pages upon pages of Archie's messy handwriting began to curl and burn, until the most personal, intimate emotions Archie had felt were nothing more than smoke. The diary had spent over a year in Archie's possession, forever being filled with thoughts so intensely weighed with emotion Archie dared not show anyone. Such a book should never have existed; it was too dangerous. For weeks now the mere thought of that full book just sitting in Archie's room frightened him.
But it's gone now, okay? Archie promised himself, noting now that very little of the book remained. All that fear, it's all gone. Your emotions can't hurt you now. Smoke, that's all it is.
And yet, the unbearable weight that had settled over Archie was only replaced by a desperate sense of loss.
