A/N - This story makes no sense whatsoever for me but for some reason I can't really stop writing it. Any reviews would be appreciated, especially for this work of madness. And just for any one who cares (which are probably none) I'm taking down most of my other stories to revise if I ever get the time, just cause they basically suck.
Tristan woke up this time with a clearer sense of logic than the previous morning. He looked around him and observed the different changes in the room. It was decorated exactly how Michael's was before he left, except for all of the pictures that they had taken together. Tristan remembered taking some for his own room after Michael left but why were they all gone? And more importantly what was he doing in Mike's room? Maybe he had been so off-balance yesterday that he actually went into the wrong room and fell asleep.
Quickly he got up and headed for his own room but after stepping out and finding that he was in fact in the last room on the right, he finally noticed that something had been desperately wrong yesterday. In order to test his speculation he went downstairs and into his father's study where he was for sure reading the newspaper.
Nathan DuGrey didn't even glance up or notice the fact that someone had entered the room. To be absolutely positive Tristan went around the desk and took a look at the large amount of pictures in elegant frames covering the desk. There were the obligatory family portraits, none of which included Tristan, and even some more snapshots of various family members. In any of the pictures Tristan couldn't find his mirror image or even a younger version of himself.
At the call of his mother Nathan left the room and Tristan took the opportunity to view the ever-growing family tree that his father tediously updated. Finding the right section for his part of the family and the generation Tristan found the names of his brother, then his cousins and even second or third cousins but no where on the page was his own name.
Following his father's footsteps into the formal dining room he could hear the sound of laughter coming from that general direction. Seeing as he couldn't remember the last time he heard someone laughing in his home Tristan rushed into the room. He found his mother laughingly with abandon at something his father said which he could tell from the little grin lighting up his father's face. And of course in this world even my parents get along better without me.
Becoming suddenly sick of his usually hostile home Tristan left for Chilton but not before changing his clothes and then realizing that he couldn't take a car or someone would notice it missing. He walked slowly to the school, collecting his thoughts as he went, and when he did arrive was able to walk the halls with no one noticing. Arriving at his usual home room Tristan observed through the little window in the door until someone had to leave for the bathroom and he was able to sneak in.
Tristan spent the rest of the class watching Rory and hearing the class groan about a pop quiz. Stealing a piece of paper from the back table he began a sketch of Rory and was suddenly grateful for the quiz because if not for everyone's concentration they might have noticed a floating pencil. Tristan was able to leave as everyone else did but beat Rory to her locker since she now had social obligations. He watched her from across the hall as she opened the locker and the drawing fell out. She glanced around questioningly and opened the folded paper apprehensively.
Rory looked up from the paper and obviously searched for the artist. He remembered signing the paper with his initials but it didn't matter any ways since he apparently didn't exist. Rory suddenly did a double take then sprinted to a person at the far end of the corner. Tristan remembered his name as Trey, a shy sophomore who was really good at basketball. From a distance Tristan realized that Trey looked a lot like him especially since he had dyed his hair almost the exact same color as Tristan's. Trey was obviously bewildered and Rory turned away crestfallen. She carefully tucked the paper into her binder then went to her next class.
Tristan left the school after that and spent the rest of his, seemingly worthless, day skipping pebbles on the lake in the park. Returning once again to his home he thought about sending an email to his father, claiming to need a bigger car, and then sign it as Michael. Tristan would take it tomorrow when no one was home and park it down the street for when he needed it. He fell asleep concocting plans of his invisible life and slept a dreamless sleep.
The next morning he knew something was different as he woke up in his own room with his father screaming at him that he was going to be late for school.