Hello~! Blame the wait on my K-Pop obsession and writer's block. ;P
I'm going to say this right now: I DO NOT WANT ANY SILENT READERS! If you're reading, please review. Please~. If you don't, it will make me cry. :(
Anyway, sorry for the guilt-trip or whatever. Here you go! Chapter two has arrived!
BAD KIDS
Chapter 2: Like Father, Like Son
"I had to leave work again, you know."
Alois Trancy was unaffected, sitting in the passenger seat with his arms crossed and staring out the window. He was focused more on the streetlights than anything else, waiting for them to change colors, waiting to arrive home already.
"I can't keep leaving early just because you're giving teachers an attitude."
"Ok." The blonde replied, turning his body towards the window, setting the palms of his hands there, and spying rainclouds in the sky. For some reason, Alois was fascinated by rain, thunder, and lightning. Little things caught his attention... like the way the raindrops would race each other down the edge of the window or how the lightning would light up the sky for a second (and nothing more).
"Alois, are you listening?" His mother had a soft, strained voice from years of unstable happenings and undeniable endeavors, and she was often hesitant to speak for fear of no one listening.
"Yes!" Her son screeched, and continued to ignore her. Realizing this, she might've been pressured to shut her mouth, but to her, it wasn't the time or place to do so. She knew that Alois would lock himself in his bedroom when they'd get home. This would probably be the only time she'd have to lecture him and attempt to instill some discipline without him running away. In a moving vehicle, there was nowhere for him to go.
"Are you going to tell me what you did this time? You never told the guidance counselor." They were stopped at a red light, and Alois' mother had taken advantage of the fact that her son was now sitting properly in the seat.
"The teacher told me to take off my hood." He said it blatantly, like it was irrelevent and didn't mean much to him or anyone else for that matter.
"Are you serious? You got in trouble because you were being stubborn and wouldn't take off your hood? That may just be the stupidest thing you've gotten in trouble for thus far." She shook her head in disapproval and disbelief.
"I know, right? That asshole Civics teacher tries to get me for everything. I did nothing."
The light turned green.
"Do you really believe you did nothing? That's terrible. I should ground you."
"You won't do it." The boy was unafraid of threats that he knew were empty.
"You're lucky that I never have. Scatch that, you're lucky that I need your help around the house. If it wasn't just the two of us, then you'd be out of luck."
They pulled into the driveway.
"Whatever."
Alois was through with getting reprimanded, through with listening, and through with just about everything else. All he desired to do was hide in his room, open the lone window he possessed, and watch the clouds burst from fullness, from ultimate wreckage. It was one of those things that never got old to see; it was similar to watching fireworks (although Alois despised fireworks) in the sense that the angry and disturbed atmosphere would heighten in sound like the shooting of a gun or even the rippling of flames in the fireplace (but on a much higher altitude, of course).
There was no other way to describe what it did for Alois other than soothe him and fascinate him with the combined sights and sounds. Unlike many people he knew, he looked forward to every thrash of thunder and bolt of electricity that appeared to show up in the open air, then vanish like a magician the next second. Alois didn't dare to blink, not even once, for fear of missing the delightful show.
It was only 2:00 PM, but the upcoming storm made the sky grey and dark already. No sun urged its way through the clouds, and Alois was glad about that. It's not that he didn't like sunny weather; he just loved this kind of weather.
The blonde mishap of a child frowned, realizing that it probably wouldn't start raining for at least another hour or so. Until then, he'd have to occupy himself. He didn't want to sleep because he was scared that he might miss the storm. He didn't want to turn on the television because he hated the beeping noise that the severe weather report would send out through the speakers. Honestly, there was nothing he wanted to do, and coming to this realization, he decided to pass the time by washing the dishes for his mother.
He did things like that when he had nothing else in the world to do. He cleaned, he organized, and sometimes he'd even cook (which he was not the best at). Time seemed to go by quicker when he occupied himself with different tasks, and he figured that maybe his mother wouldn't scold him about getting in trouble at school again if he helped her around the house. Maybe she'd forget all the times that happened if he'd scrub the dishes harder, dust the tables more carefully, and vaccum the living room without knocking over another family antique. Just maybe...
Alois hopped down the rustic, wooden stairs and into the kitchen. His mother was nowhere in the vicinity, but the dishes and silverware in the sink was starting to pile up, so he approached them, not hesitating, turned on the hot water, and began his dull, time-wasting task.
Outside, little booms of thunder could be heard here and there, but since there was no sound of rain pelting the roof, Alois continued, letting his mind float off somewhere beyond his reach.
These days, his mind would usually wander so far from his body that he wouldn't even know or be able to comprehend what he was thinking about in the first place. He'd hear bits and pieces of conversations from the past, but they'd become so jumbled that he'd forget when something was said and who said it.
He swears that he still hears his father's voice, but he's not sure if it's really him or not because he doesn't really remember what his father's voice sounds like. That was beside the point, though, because Alois lives in the present, represses the past, and holds his middle finger up to the future in a salute of sorts.
"Why can't you be this good outside of the house?" His mother entered the kitchen, walked over to her occupied son, and patted his head. The boy rolled his eyes.
"Tell me why!" His mother playfully whined to him. "Are you being bullied in school?"
Alois gently set down the soapy plate he was holding and gave her a harsh glare, retorting, "No!" His mother judged by his quick remark that she probably shouldn't push him anymore. Shouldn't. It doesn't mean she wouldn't. She was just more cautious with her tone this time, lowering her voice to an almost unaudible whisper.
"Are you sure you don't want to tell momma?"
Alois replied, his response just as imperceptible as hers, "Don't treat me like a child." Surprisingly, there was no fatality in his words, but there was something else... a faint sign of sadness.
His mother backed up and leaned on the fridge, and he went back to washing the dishes.
"You're 14. That's still a child to me..." She trailed off in a mumble.
For a moment, she didn't think her son would say anything back to her because he was being so quiet, so subtle. Nevertheless, the unexpected was to be expected in her life.
"Well, not me." Alois said, leaving his mother in desperation like he always did. She sighed, exiting the room without another word to her son or herself.
After Alois finished the dishes, he started to hear blaring thunder and ran to the closest window, which happened to be the glass door to the patio. He stripped away the curtain that covered it, and put his hands up to the transparent surface. Rain was just beginning to trickle down, and the noise was increasing by the minute.
He felt restrained, watching from a mere glass door, and wanted to be right there where the show was occurring. So he unlocked the door, slid it open, and stepped outside. He soon realized, standing there on the patio, that he was trapped within the roof and the wooden planks below him, and he wanted to be even closer. So doing something that his mother would never approve of, he walked out from under the roof, and was now wandering idly in his backyard, raindrops splashing onto all of him, and lightning threatening to strike him down.
He loved it. He embraced it, sticking his arms out and coaxing the weather with everything he had. He never wanted to leave it... the sensation of rain on his skin, the pounding of thunder in his ears, and soon, the brightness of lightning buzzing at his sides.
He giggled, hopping to his right and humming an unknown tune. It was beautiful to him. His eyes would not move. He would not blink. Everything was lovely, and everything made him forget about his defiance, his troubles, and, in all honestly, he never wanted that moment to end.
That's when his mother stuck her head out the sliding door, and saw what her son was doing. A raspy gasp escaped her lips and she began running towards him as fast as she was able to.
Alois didn't notice her until her body slammed into his back and nearly knocked him over. He kept his balance anyway, and wouldn't let his eyes abandon the sky. Even when his mother wrapped both of her arms around his torso and started dragging him back inside, all he could say was, "Let go of me!"
"You're going inside, and you're staying inside!" She sceeched, the wooden patio scuffing Alois' shoes as they went along. By the time the door was closed again, the blonde boy found himself sitting against the side of the kitchen counter, hugging his knees up to his chest in solitary.
His mother turned to him with a worried face. "What do you think you were doing? Did that idea sound good to you? Are you insane?" Her multiple questions went on and on before she actually made another declarative sentence.
"You could've been struck by lightning."
"What are the chances of that happening?" Alois scoffed.
"It doesn't matter if the chance is slim. It's still possible."
"But mom-"
"Go to your room!" His angry mother cut him off, and waited until she heard his footsteps making their way upstairs and the familiar slamming of his bedroom door. With a tired sigh, she left the room.
Alois was plopped down in front of his bed because his legs wouldn't move him anymore. He allowed his head to rest against the edge instead and grabbed ahold of his most prized possession: his teddy bear.
"Hello, Luka." He spoke to the bear, saying its name in a hoarse tone. "My mom hates me." He held the stuffed animal tight and took in the light scent it gave off. With a sarcastic chuckle, he announced to the emptiness, "Luka smells like my dad."
With a huff, he finally stood, making his way over to the only mirror in his room, and sitting in front of it with Luka still in his arms. He flipped his hair to the side, inhaling as he did so and wishing that everything was how it used to be. The scent of Luka just brought back more unwatned memories, and the mere sight of the toy made him cringe with disgust.
Alois realized that there was a time whenever he wasn't able to sleep at night without the bear tucked up to his cheek, a time when he'd carry it everywhere he went inside and outside the house, but now things had changed. Luka, his only friend since childhood, was just a dirty reminder to him of the night in which his father left and the months afterwards where both himself and his mother cried everyday. Having Luka around was something that Alois could no longer handle even though he didn't want to face that fact.
He looked at Luka's reflection in the mirror and finally exhaled.
"I'm sorry, Luka." He said, grabbing his scissors from the desk next to his bed and holding them between his trembling fingers. "I have to say goodbye to you."
The scissors poked at the stuffed animal's chest, and there was so much hesitation, so many second thoughts sprinting through the boy's mind, that he almost didn't do it. Nevertheless, he poked harder until they stabbed a slit, and he started moving them, started cutting a line down the front of his bear.
All the while, tears were forming in his eyes, and as he now placed the sciossors around Luka's neck, they spilled over as he cut again, watching the bear's head fall to the floor effortlessly.
Alois let out a frustrated yell, letting the rest of Luka's remains fall as well.
He was drained. His heart ached like nothing he'd ever felt in his life. It was like the one person he loved the most just died suddenly, and it was his fault. He knew he couldn't leave Luka there, torn apart and bleeding white stuffing. That would just break his heart more to stare at the damage he brought to the innocent bear. All at once, he felt guilty for dropping Luka, and he picked up his body parts, opened his bedroom door, and walked downstairs with depression clinging to his entire being.
Part of him asked, "How could I?" The other part replied, "You had to." It was an internal fight just to lower himself onto every step in front of him.
Into the kitchen he went, and over to the trashcan was where he was headed. He felt that it would be the best burial for Luka. Stepping on the lever to open the top, he stared down at the mutilated bear in his arms and threw it in, moving his foot so that the trashcan closed once again.
When Alois turned on his feet to exit the room, his sad eyes and menacing frown had disappeared, and a brutal smirk and disturbing snickers replaced them. It was almost as if he had gotten back at someone, gotten even with them, and in his mind, he had. Bitter satisfaction was beginning to kick in.
"There," he spoke to himself, "I can throw away people, too."