A sigh tumbled passed the thin, taunt lips in exhausted defeat as the caramel stained eyes that levelled on par with that same face scanned the blurring words of a shaking book, pressed between the stopping nimble fingers of one boy. The refusal to tear those same orbs away was what caused the tremble and the shake, and of course the blurring of print together as inherited stubborn ness clouded the brunet that lay back on firm pillows. Furious blinking did little to no good, as the repeated sigh followed the sure sign of fatigue and the thin pages of such a heavy book slipped between his fingers and woke up his face with a large ‘thump’. Now with eyes wide, a silent shout tore from the chapped lips and the boy’s body jerked upright as his phone clattered to the floor with a similar noise too the book. Staying as still as a deer in the headlights, the tall thin figure stayed as silent as possible, as if waiting for a sound in the other room. Declaring the coast clear (and himself tired) he place the book down on the shelf accompanying his bed and slouched onto the pillows in relief.
With aching fingers, the brunet boy painted by the dusk, let himself switch off the light source in his hand as he stared ahead into to an abyss blinded by the echo of what the screen had left imprinted on his visionary sensors. The stars tacked too his ceiling became visible from where he was staring straight ahead through darkened eyes, noticing the subtle brightness then he let himself smile gently. The stars were the presence of the childhood he barely remembered, and the thought that one day he would love to touch the stars. Alas, childhood never lasts and he was definitely not living in it now, stupid thoughts were a waste of space as his father often stated too him then and now.


But he still stared at them at night. At a distance, the stars were so beautiful. No matter how hard he would try to grow, Jack Barakat was still that child at night.

Shaking away his irrational thoughts with a comb through the strands of ebony mussed over his forehead, the young boy slid the oversized glasses off of his nose and placed them on top of the books piled high on the shelf. Like a mole, or frightened mouse, he burrowed into the heat of his glasses and waited.

For what was he waiting? The noises, the noises in head.

All day he entertained his body whilst his mind was set in default mode, his eyes would see as his heart would beat but his head…it would tick. Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock. Like a time bomb. His thoughts put on hold until he lay down into bed and the beast would awake, reminding him of everything he wasn’t supposed too, Adam tempted by Eve, all in his head…betrayed by his own thoughts.

The inside of his brain hiccupped for a second giving him time to brace himself as he felt the words he would never dare speak and the questions he'd never dare ask fall like a tsunami and crash like a tidal wave through the barriers of thought. His barriers. 'So why do I have to do as I’m told?' And 'Why does being a child make me inferior?' Spoke in silence, the forbidden things that he must never speak of, not without fear of a good hiding anyway.
It seemed oddly strange to be a 17 year old boy, curled up alone in his room at 10PM at night, still scared of his parents and still without companionship. He wasn’t really a teen, in his age and body maybe, but in his mind he had barely progressed passed 7, at least in the metaphorical sense. Jack Barakat was clever, intelligent, bred by his parents from a young age too be nothing short of a genius, but he was so terrified of the outside world that he feared too venture into it.

Tomorrow was his first day in the real world, as his father had told him that soon he would have to attend college and there was no such thing as shying away from the world there. So now he had too experience his last year of high school with…people…teenagers like him, only crueller and more experienced with the world around them. Where would that leave him? Afraid, of course.

Why should he be forced? There was no other answer besides the pure nature of his parents saying so, and he couldn’t argue with his parents, not after everything they’ve done for him. After this he would study business in collage, maybe go too university but in the end he would take over his father’s business and run it, then pass it on too his child like he was told too. For a moment, he dared to let himself think that he didn’t want too, and then forced the thought away in favour for the dark cloud of sleep that unfurled like a curtain over his mind.
--
Cheeky wide chocolate orbs blinked through long charcoal lashes, staring at the sky for a second too contemplate the shine of the stars, before trailing behind him to follow the can he threw behind his nimble body. “Anyone for one last drink? Last year of school boys and girls, let’s make it a good one!” An uproar of cheers followed as the owner of those glimmering eyes smirked, sitting on the hood of his rackety old truck. “You’ve got something planned, I can tell,” He looked towards his best friend who simply brushed his shadowy hair from his eyes and shook his head.

“Maybe I have,” The crescendo of smoky brown and mischievous lime that made up the eyes of Kellin Quinn looked back, a stick of cancer dangling precariously from the softly shaped lips that many girls (and boys) craved. He watched as the people who followed them like disciples went crazy on the streets, drinking and screaming, knowing it was a matter of time before the two boys disappeared and left.

“What is it this time?” The taller chuckled, sitting up and tucking his knees up to his chin and plucked cigarette from his mouth to inhale the very same toxic air; it stood as tradition between the two that every year bets would be placed over something stupid, last year it was something feeble that they could barely remember, all they do remember was someone getting suspended and fireworks being set off.

“We’re pretty well known for getting around, right?” A nod shared because was that even a question? “I wanna know who can get the most dates,” He stole the metaphorical knife back too thrust it back to its original place. “As in, actual dates, without sex,” snorting at the horrified expression on his best friend’s face, Kellin flicked the ashes to the floor and got in the truck. “Alex Gaskarth, a year without sex, I challenge you,”

“Have I ever denied a challenge off you Kels?”

Notes