IV
When Urie looked at people, he noticed small things about them.
Some people were very content with being who they are, for instance. They didn't strive to be anything else. Standing on the ladder of knowledge was enough for them – they had no desire to go up or down. They corrupted the ladder, crowded and polluted the air and blocked his way. Those kinds of people deserved being elbowed away as he climbed up towards the peak.
Some wanted to reach that peak, the ultimate knowledge and title, but they never got to take the next step. Either they were too slow, or blind with their eagerness, that they never made it past a few steps. Urie always got in front of them, never ceasing to look back at them to show them the difference between him and a silly rabbit.
The rest were successful people. The class presidents, the CEOs, the chief commanders. Those were the ones who reached Urie's goal. Urie hated them even more, because they took up too much space there and always looked down on him, like he looks down on the rest. They always made him feel inferior, weak, talentless – like he would never get there. Urie hated them and would push them all down if he could reach that peak.
Then there was Urie. The one who had to climb all those stairs on his own – the one who always had people pulling at his ankles and wrists, pulling him down… Urie was always fighting to climb the ladder of knowledge and title, unlike those snobby winners.
Oh, how he hated everyone.
He put on his earphones and raised the volume of his music. He raised his chin and never looked at anyone on the road. He wasn't like them and he would never fall to their level. He made a clear distinction between him and those other people – and he made it clear to anyone who tried to approach him.
He didn't need anyone to pull him up. He could very well put his steps forward himself.
He walked past a bookstore, noticing the crowd. There was a book signing event going on, of some author he wasn't familiar with. He inwardly rolled his eyes.
He saw a pharmacy across the street. An old man was getting out of it, holding a bag and pulling his coat up so it would keep his neck warm. He glanced at the pharmacy's name, noting it in case he needed anything from there.
He noticed a few motorcycles on the corner. He hated those loud teenagers. He changed his way just so he didn't have to walk next to them and had to smell the gas their motorcycles emitted.
Further on, he stopped at the lights. There were a lot of people there, so he raised the volume even more. He didn't even look at the people who walked past him.
He didn't want to interact with other people. He was pretty content in his own world; no corruption, no crowd, no distraction. Just a clear path on the ladder he had to climb.
He didn't need any comrades.