I looked at him; I had Maths next so the answer was obvious. I nodded, picking up my violin we walked straight out of the front gate. There was no one watching and I had been informed the CCTV didn’t work. The school was too stingy to pay to get them repaired so they just pretended they worked.
He took us to a music store somewhere in the town centre. There I bought him his sticks and I got my bow fixed. I was tempted to break it in but, I wasn’t alone so I thought it best not to. I looked around at the music posters; I needed something for my walls. To make my room, mine. Damien was on the drums and I watched him from a distance. Something seemed familiar. I clicked the next song on my IPod. I listened. I tapped my foot.
“Damien. Damien Cross...” I gasped and bounded over to him. “It’s you! You’re Damien Cross! How could I not know?” This was exciting, in the heat of moving I had practically forgotten all about my music.
He looked up, "Wha’?"
I grinned. "I used to have you pinned up on my wall and I just plain forgot! Wow!"
He looked a little freaked out, but I couldn’t calm down. "Okay..."
"Killing the Phoenix, the drummer with Cancer, Rayn and Phil. Gemme also used to travel with you. I loved you guys!"
He smiled slightly, "You wouldn't have loved Cancer."
I shook my head, "no. You were my favourite," I grinned.
He chuckled slightly. "Thanks. If Cancer hadn't been such a dickwad, we might've gone further and I wouldn't be stuck here."
"Don't mean to be selfish but, I'm glad you are,” he shot me a questioning look and my smile widened. "I was able to meet you, It's an honour!"
"Uhh... thanks." He smiled back slightly.
"Wow," I stood in the moment for a while, that was. Until I saw Kyle and his crew.
"Well, well. If it isn't my two favourite queers.” No. Not now, not here, I’d just met one of my idols and he appears. I thought I was getting somewhere, Damien wasn’t being defensive and it all just fell apart again.
“Back off you prick! I warned you,” I growled, turning sharply on my heels as I heard his voice.
“Jeez, is someone on their period or something?”
Damien got up and pushed past us. "Wait! Damien!" He kept walking and that felt like a knife slicing through my skin.
"Thanks a lot Kyle!" I shouted, resisting the urge to punch him.
"I never technically did anything."
"You just being here always fucks things up!”
He glanced around, presumably for his friends. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Oh and now he becomes sincere.
"Yeah, yeah. Keeping up appearances. Stay away from me, okay?"
I growled, "why not?"
"Cause you're an alright kinda guy." Alright? He liked me and he did nothing but insult me. And I thought I had problems...
"Right. I'm 'alright' so you plan to make my life a living hell? Thanks a lot."
"I said I'm sorry." Sorry, why does eveyone think that the word 'sorry' will make everything okay. Take it from me, sometimes it's just not good enough.
"It won't fix anything! I can't even make friends because they're scared of you!"
"Scared of me?"Like he didn't know he was the school bully.
"Yes, scared of what you'll do to their reputation, or worse! I've only just got here and you've already ruined my chances of anything good happening." He sort of frowned and I kinda felt sorry for him, something in me began to feel warm and tingly like I actually felt some remorse for shouting at him. "You've completely just destroyed my life. I hope you're happy." I walked off and he just stood there, watching me go.
"I wouldn't bother coming round tomorrow either. I don't think I could stand to be alone with you." I called to him, uncomfortable in the silence. I sort of, didn’t want to be mad at him...
“Fine, I won’t!”
I saw which way Damien went and ran after him, I didn’t want to cry. Even though my life was over. But it was so hard not to, I managed to push them back long enough to manage a conversation. I soon caught up to him after breaking into a soft sprint. "Okay, I'm sorry. Here you forgot your sticks. I know it's better if you don't hang round with me so I guess I'll be off..."
He took them with an uncomfortable look on his face, "Thanks."
"Uhm, I'm sorry. I'll go. I didn't mean you any trouble."
He sighed, but I didn’t need his pity. "I'm going out of town for a few drinks and a jam with some mates later. Let me know if you want a lift."
"Nah. No one wants to be around a depressed fag," I sniffled, growling at myself under my breath. A man shouldn't cry in the street, if it wasn't bad enough. But not just that, I didn’t want to be there with people I could be friends with and pretend to be happy.
He shrugged, "Suit yourself. I live at the end of this street." I caught where he was on about because I had to walk past it to get home. Home, where I curled up with my knees pressed to my chest again. At least here I didn’t need to bottle anything up.