Sorry, it's been ages since I last posted. At least it feels like it. It's been alot with school and stuff, but here's another chapter. It's more of a filler, I guess. Pretty much just having an over-look in Barry's brain.
Simon Bellamy loved to study people. He considered himself a pretty good studier. He'd done it for as long as he could remember, because people fascinated him. Billions of people in the world, yet not a single one of them looked exactly the same. Sure, identical twins were identical, both there were still things that seperated them look-wise. The sound of their voice, birthmarks, scars, a special glimpse in their eye. The list of suggestions for diffrences went on and on. The more he studied, the better he got.
It also allowed him to fade away himself more and more. He wasn't expected to talk whenever he wanted to at home, which rubbed off when it came to school. But the teachers adored the little boy, despite his weird habits. He did exactly what they wanted him to do, he didn't create chaos like the other boys, and he called them sir or ma'm. In their eyes, he was just well-behaved little child, a tad shy, but well-behaved and good-hearted. Although, this was not appreciated by any other child in his class, and he was soon known as the Weird Kid. The one friend he'd gained, a neighbour boy called Matt, quickly abandoned him. By the age of eight, Simon Matthew Bellamy was completely oblivious to the rest of the world, as he usual shut it out, in order to stay in his beloved imaginary world. But no-one noticed, because of course, he was just a well-behaved, shy boy.
At home things got harder. His younger sister Margaret was now a year old, and their father's pride and joy. He smiled and played with her, in a way he had never done with Simon. At least he had his mum. His mum, the only person who seemed to notice that he was there. She could just look at him, really look at him, and he knew he did actually exist. There was no-one greater than Judith Bellamy in his world.
"Why doesn't he like me?" Simon suddenly said, sat in the warm sand. The question had been burning in his head for the last hour, and he finally had the courage to let it past his glanced over at his mother, who was eating a peach, just like he was.
"What are you talking about?" She let out a soft chuckle, gazing at him, raising an eyebrow. She really did think he couldn't tell she knew what he meant, didn't she? That she always forced herself to tell him lies, with a smile on her face. He wasn't stupid, he was turning nine the following month!
"Papa." He said, tilting his head to the side as he stuied his mother closely.
"He has a bad temper, I know, but he does love you. You're his son, Simmy." She always called him Simmy. He liked it, it made him feel special. He knew that was the end of the discussion. He didn't want to ask more either, because the subject always brought something weird to his mummy's gaze and he didn't like it. He let out a soft sigh, trying to study the sea instead.
The years past by, and Simon kept studying people. He barely realised he was doing it, it just came naturally. He got better and better at reading people, and memorising clothes and looks. He started to develop a new world in his head, and all these people existed in that world. They had names, families, personalities.. problems, relationships... Everything. Down to every bloody detail.
Most stories about all these people were told to his younger sister. She loved his stories, and begged him to tell them, even though she could barely speak properly. There was the guy who owned at least twenty cats, walking all over the place. Or the shy girl who actually was a princess in a land far, far away. His father called them ridiculous fantasies, his mother called them very creative stories. Simon knew they were real. At least to him, at least in his head. They all walked around there, whining and giggling quietly, doing crazy stuff so he had something to tell his baby sister after dinner every night.
They still walked around there, and it was getting quite crowded up there. But he never missed a detail. And today wasn't any different from the day before, or the day before that. His session had just ended, without a word. They'd given him medication, but he kept quiet. He didn't want them to know. About the voices in the silent of the night, when he was laying there in his bed, trying to remember why he went to bed every night, only to wake up to another day of the same routine. About the voices, the cries from the younger version of himself. Cries of anxiety, and fear. I didn't do it, daddy, I promise! The shame, and the pain.
Nathan had made him wonder about the next day, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit that he had enjoyed the curly-haired boy's company whenever he decided to pop up. It had been a week since that failed conversation in the supply closet. He felt a loss, which he had never felt before, because he'd never had anyone to loose. The boy hadn't even been to the group session, apparently he felt a bit ill. Which is Simon found a ridiculous thing to say at a Pschyatric Hospital. He could barely focus on the telly with all this in his head. Why did Nathan react so violently when he told him what he'd done? There had been something in those green eyes, but he hadn't been able to tell what it was. Although, he'd seen those curls loads of time in the past week. Sneaking around everywhere, watching him like a spy. Did it have anything to do with why Nathan was here, or why he thought he had the power of immortality? And if he hated him so much for it, why did he follow him? He'd tried to go and talk to him, but as soon as he gazed too long at the curls, the other boy disappeared as fast as he could.
He needed to find him, he needed to know. Maybe.. Maybe they could be friends?