The sixteen year old brunette sighed as he forced himself to tune into what the teacher was blabbering on about at the front of the classroom. His brown and somewhat orange coloured eyes took in the almost illegable scribbles that covered the white boards surface, and he began to copy them down into his school book in his own understandable font. Ancient History was not exactly the brunette's favourite subject, but his grades seemed to show that he was rather good at every class he took, nevertheless. No matter his interest, his grades were always average, or just above. To be honest, he realised that this was because his social life had never really.. kicked off. No matter how many times he'd stammered out an introduction, he'd never really become close with anyone at the many schools he'd been to. In fact, he'd seemed to have attracted the exact opposite. Especially at this school. Alternia State High School was - without a doubt - the dirtiest, unkept and roughest school he'd ever transferred to. With all the teens indulging in illegal substances on a daily basis, there really was no competition when it came to scoring high on exams, or anything academic.
"Travis Nitram." The gruff voice of the somewhat stocky History teacher caught said boys' attention. He straightened up in his seat, and returned his focus from the difficult writing on the board to the man speaking to him. "Y-Yes, uh, sir...?" The brunette's infamous stutter caused a few of the other classmates around him to giggle and snicker. There was one of the main reasons Travis Nitram had never became good friends with anyone. Some may have thought his speaking disability to be 'cute', but no one would ever voice such a thing willingly. Who would want to be stuck with a socially awkward loner? The teachers' voice echoed up the the fourth row of desks, where Travis was seated, catching his somewhat divided attention yet again.
"Spacing out, are we? Have you been listening at all? What about taking notes?" The man did not pause once as he spewed the questions to the silent teen. There was no time to even attempt to reply, as the teacher capped the white board marker and sat it down on the front desk. "Honestly, I do not understand how you manage to pass this class, Travis. You might as well start taking naps during my lessons." Travis frowned as he forced himself to hold up a finger as a sort of request to speak. The teacher seemed to ignore him, and so he summoned up all his courage and pushed out a few words. "S-Sir.. Please... I-I've taken.. I've taken notes." His deep, but frail voice reached the man at the front of the class, and he halted his whining to raise his eyebrows. "Is that so?" Came a quiet reply, before the man suddenly shook his head. "Then, I suppose you wouldn't mind showing them to me, after class?" Travis felt his teeth grind together, as he stiffled a sigh. Not the after class thing, darn it. A few wolf whistles suddenly tore through the air, as Travis's classmates laughed freely. It was a well-known joke amongst the entire school that whoever was asked to stay after class had sexual relations with the inquiring teacher. Of course, it wasn't true, but the enrolled teenagers needed some form of entertainment during their extremely boring school hours. What made the joke even better was that no one could really say no to such a question, unless they were the rebellious or 'popular' type.
"Uh.. Of c-course." Travis murmured, nodding his head, before he lowered his gaze to his desk. He knew there was no way he could get into trouble class-wise. He'd done everthing he had meant to. The only real problem was that now Travis had to deal with teasing and bullying as he walked through the halls for the next week or so. Several of the students in the classroom continued to make inappropriate noises that Travis couldn't help but blush at. Even after their History teacher raised his voice and slammed his open palm onto his own desk, the noises and teasing continued for a little while. Eventually, everyone calmed down and went back to zoning out as the teacher returning to his drabbles about who-knows-what. Travis sighed, as he glanced up at the clock above the door. Oh, wonderful. The bell was only a minute or two away from ringing and allowing them all to go home.
As the long red hand of the clock ticked the seconds away, Travis began to pick away at his nails nervously. He sure would like to escape from this hell that was otherwise known as 'school', but then again.. His home life wasn't fantastic either. It was a shame he wasn't working tonight, or else he'd be bouncing off the walls, excited to be paid his wage - though it wasn't exactly impressive, he really just needed enough for rent. He couldn't help but flinch when the home bell sounded, the shrill tolls ringing throughout the empty halls and penetrating into the classrooms. Immediately, students leapt out of their seats. A few teens even went as far as to slide over their desks on their way out. In doing so, many of the said desks toppled over. Travis scooped up his backpack and slung it over one shoulder. Ignoring the obstructions in his path, he dodged around the mess and moved up towards the teachers desk, almost glad that there were no other children left to bug him about seeing his teacher after class. He knew he'd have to put up with it later, though. He dumped his bag on the floor, as a tortured sigh escaped him. Travis lay his school book down in front of the teacher, his unusually coloured eyes locked on the notes that had been neatly scrawled down on the pages throughout the lesson.
"Alright. Leave." The teacher said, waving the brunette off. With a frown, Travis packed his book into his backpack and re-slung it over his shoulder. The man had hardly even given the book a first glance, let alone read the notes to see if they were really what had been on the board. It was almost as if the teacher had asked him to stay behind for the sole purpose of killing his social life. It had already been cremated, buried and left alone for years. Now it felt as if someone was dancing on its grave... Or perhaps a dozen hillbillies were spitting on it, and rolling some huge redneck trucks over the dislodged grave stone, just to make sure the damn thing was perfectly defaced. Oh, and so the soil was packed tight. Yep, that thing wasn't getting out anytime soon. Or ever, really.
Travis exited the classroom clumsily, hearing the teacher growl as the brunette stumbled over a few desks on his way out. Scurrying off, he began to gnaw away at his lip piercing nervously. The school had already been completely evacuated; there was no a soul to be seen. Travis actually felt a little lucky, as he made his way down the stairs and towards the front double doors of the public school. He passed through the doors and continued on his way down the front steps. Still no one around. Perhaps this day hadn't been quite as bad as the brunette had thought. After all, no one was around to pick on him. With luck, he might even have a relatively uneventful walk home, as well.
"TRAAAAAAAAVIS !" A feminine, familiar voice abruptly pierced his eardrums, and sent an icy flash of fear down his spine. He froze on the spot, his limbs beginning to quake as he listened to the teenagers rapid footsteps move closer and closer. A flurry of blonde ringlets and torn rags of a uniform practically knocked the brunette onto his face, as Veronica Serket slammed into Travis without hesitation. "Where are you off to?! You're not avoiding me, are you?! Not after I helped you all those years ago!" Travis's worst nightmare squealed in a sing-song tone. Her thin fingers threaded thorugh Travis's curly mohawk and she began to tug at the tresses. Her fingernails that had missed his hair clawed at the shaves sides of his head. The blonde girl tore hard enough to rip out a few threads of the brunette's locks as she forced him to strain his neck and bend his head backward. The back of his head rested against her shoulder, and his aching legs threatened to give out. "Don't be like that, Travie. I just wanted to let you fly. Like your beloved Peter Pan~" She giggled manically, her dark blue eyes glaring down at the loner, causing his body to tremble in absolute fright. Travis shook his head frantically, unable to do anything else. The memories of the night Veronica had crept up on him and taunted him began to flood through his mind. He could not speak. He could not move. He could not retaliate, run away or even break down into fits of messy crying. All he could do was let Veronica torture him, just like she had back then.
It had been a rainy afternoon, two years ago, and the school bell had just tolled. Instead of taking the usual route back to his apartment, Travis had discovered another way. Thinking it could be some sort of adventure, or at least a short cut, he had started down it without thoughts of dangers. He simply wanted something different to the regular routine of main streets and creepy old people, or dirty young people watching him way too closely from the shadows of allyways. He had made the trip without incident until about the half way point, when none other than Veronica Serket had rounded the corner. It had been the start of highschool for both teens, but Travis had already began to be bullied and teased. His freckled nose and cheeks, his orange banded braces and his unbrushed curly hair caused him to look much younger - and much nerdier - than he really was. Of course, he was told this several times in the first week of attending his new school. Wanting to turn over a new leaf, Travis had decided he'd try his hardest to make friends of some sort. He had desperately stuttered to people, and soon enough everyone knew practically everything about him - his favourite movies, his beliefs and his hobbies. Therefore, the moment Veronica's deep blue eyes landed on the Peter Pan lover, amateur roleplayer and fairy-believer, she had advanced on him, excited to have a new person to bully.
They had met halfway along a bridge of some sort, that seemed to allow them to cross over a dried-out river. Below was a somewhat muddy, rocky mixture of a crevace that had once been filled with running water. It was dry season, and therefore there wasn't anything available to fill in this rock-filled ditch. Before Travis could slip past her and dodge any sort of physical or verbal attack, Veronica's bony hand had clasped around his stiff, new uniform collar. He yelped quietly, as she yammed him into the railing of the bridge effortlessly. He didn't bother to fight back. His fear had rendered his body useless. He could only stare at her with wide orange coloured eyes as she screeched and cackled and shook him. He couldn't understand much through the frightened haze that had taken over his brain, but after a moment, her words began to register.
"--If I didn't know any better, I'd say I was playing with Peter Pan, himself! Isn't that what you want, Travis? To be like Peter? Of course you do! What boy wouldn't want to be like Peter? So dashing and brave! He's everything you're not!" Veronica had paused to giggle harshly, and to grab onto Travis's collar with both of her hands. She tightened her grip, leaning close to his face. "For one thing.. He can flyyyyyyyy~" She practically purred, her blue eyes locked on the odd colour of Travis's. "Do you want to flyyyyyyyy, Travis? Have you ever tried to fly? I bet you haven't! How about we take to the skies, Peter?!" Travis's eyes widened considerably, as he tried to contemplate what this absolutely nutty girl was saying. He didn't understand. What was she trying to say? "Oh, you like that idea, Peter? Yes, you do. I can feel it in the way your body shakes and your eyes widen in excitement. You want to fly so bad!" Veronica continued to ramble, her downright evil cackling bouncing off Travis's cranium walls. He could do nothing but try to calm his erratically beating heart. He didn't know what this insane teen was going to do, but he was absolutely certain he wasn't going to like it, at all. She didn't look like the type to get into fights. Mostly, she just looked like she bullied people into hurting themselves. It looked as if she was a little upset with the reaction she was getting from him, though. He was still with fear, and he wasn't trying to struggle. Did she want him to?
"FLYYYYYYYY, PETER! FLYYYYYYYY!" Veronica suddenly snapped into motion, sick of the boring statue state that Travis had been frozen in. She used every ounce of her strength to push against the boy, causing his back to bend over the short railings of the bridge. She laughed in his face as he gasped and began to flail his arms, trying to grab onto anything he could. With no luck, he began to topple backward, his feet coming off the bridge boards and following after him. Turning in the air, Travis watched as the ground rushed up at him, and he just knew he was going to regret this adventure for the rest of his life.
The rest of the memory had been blanked out. All he could remember was waking up in a hospital bed four weeks later. He'd been in a coma for a whole month, he had almost done unrepairable damage to his spinal cord and he could have easily suffered from brain damage. Upon first waking up, his memory was foggy, and at first, the doctors had thought he had developed amnesia. Fortunately, that was not the case. He was just a little overwhelmed with waking up in a uncomfortable, sterile, white-everything room without anyone by his bedside, and not a single 'get better soon' gift. Later, he'd been informed that his parents had mysteriously disappeared. After his accident, they had been contacted and asked to join Travis at the hospital. They never showed up. The hospital tried to contact them several times after their disappearance, but to no avail. Travis could only really sum everything up to one reason, and it wasn't exactly something he liked. His parents had ditched him and skipped town, so they could avoid the hospital bills. It was really the only thing he could think of. His parents had never been wealthy, or even slightly gifted in the money department. They had very nearly been classed as struggling with poverty, in fact. Hence, when Travis was finally released from the hospital - all his bills paid by the government, with unfortunate consequences - he immediately began searching for somewhere new to live. He did not have any friends - as far as he understood - and so, he found himself a tiny apartment that he could pay a monthly rent for if he worked on a minimum wage. Which was what he did, now. Unfortunately, he could not work as anything at the time, as he had to spend quite some time in a wheelchair to recover and rehabilitate his weak body. Although, he was now employed as a waiter, dishie and food preparator at a low-class chinese resturant around the corner from his apartment. He didn't exactly dislike his job, but sometimes he really could not be bothered to deal with his somewhat pedophilic boss.
"V-V-Vero.. V-Veronica.. Please don't.. touch me.." Travis stumbled over his words, as he shook his head slightly. Her felt the blonde girls' grip on his hair release, and he immediately straightened himself up, turning around to face her. You could not turn your back on a dangerous person, such as Veronica. "...I-I just want.. to.. g-go home." He mumbled, trying to force his voice to sound strong and powerful. He wasn't very successful. At least puberty had deepened his voice, or he'd be teased much more than he was already. "Then why don't you ?" The blonde girl laughed under her breath, shaking her head and causing her long light hair to swirl around her. "You're such a weakling, Travis. When will you grow up?" Her face suddenly twisted into a scowl, as she leaned towards the mohawked boy and hissed quietly. "See you around, Travie~" She sneered, before she suddenly lifted her hand and flicked Travis's septum piercing. He yelped, almost inaudibly, and watched as Veronica skipped away, cackling to herself as she went. With a small frown, Travis reaching up to rub his assaulted nose and forced his body to stop quaking all over. He slowly turned and readjusted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder, before beginning to make his way down the sidewalk, moving in the direction of his little apartment. He suddenly couldn't wait to get home.
It only took about twenty minutes of walking to get to the apartment complex where Travis resided. He pushed open the door, ignoring the irritating squeaking noise it made as he entered. He never used the elevator, as he preferred the stairs. It was faulty anyway, and he didn't like to think about getting stuck in the damned thing all alone. Making his way up three flights of stairs, he finally made it to the row of apartment doors that he was so very familiar with. He'd been living in this place for two years now - almost three, actually. Digging about in his pocket, Travis struggled to find the key to his home. He always had it in his pocket... Perhaps he was searching in the wrong one. Travis placed his backpack on the ground and slid both hands into his pockets, praying to find his room key. His eyes widened as a door opened a few little while down the hall. Usually, the only people ever seen in this apartment complex were prostitutes, drug dealers and unfortunate teens like himself. He couldn't get caught up with any of those types of people. If only he could just get inside quickly, and avoid being talked to, or even looked at. He didn't even bother to glance in the direction of the person who had just exited their own unit and was currently locking their door.
Travis almost burst into tears of relief when he felt the cold metal of the key in his school shirt pocket. Why hadn't he thought to check in there beforehand? Oh, who cares. He was safe, now. He plucked the key from his breast pocket, and fumbled with it for a moment. He began to try and force the key into the lock upside down. When he realised what he was doing, he jumped and tried to flip the key over, but instead his quivering and uncoordinated hands did not respond as well as he'd hoped. The key fell from his hands and skittered along the concrete ground, before it was stepped on by bright purple converse. The owner of the colourful shoes paused, and lifted their foot, before leaning down and grasping the little key with purple-painted fingernails. As they straightened up, Travis's wide almost-orange gaze studied them, as he prayed and prayed that they weren't some sort of terrifying person who would beat him within an inch of his life. The person was an extremely tall, lanky figure, with unruly dark purple-tinged hair that puffed and curled all over the place. As his face came into view, Travis couldn't help but gasp lowly. He was very handsome, without a doubt, but smeared all over his face was makeup that looked exactly like something a clown would wear. Although, the colours were all wrong. The makeup was just a simple white and gray mixture. It was still frightening. A crooked grin adorned the makeup covered face, as his half-lidded gaze was trained on Travis. The brunette would swear on his own life that the mans' eyes were practically bright purple for a second. But, when the clown-like guy blinked, they just seemed to be an odd blue that shifted colour a little.
"Hey, motherfucker. You drop your key. Here ya go, little man." The gangly teenager held out the small, uniquely cut metal piece that had almost caused Travis a heart attack today. Carefully, the brunette reached out and took the key from the other, noticing that the arm that was outstretched to him was covered in odd tattoos. Travis swallowed the huge lump in his throat, that was preventing him from speaking, and offered the stranger a nervous smile. "Th-Th-Thank.. you..." He choked out, his heart beat thundering against his ribs painfully. The tattooed young man stretched his lopsided grin further along his face, causing Travis to panic a little. Why was this man smiling so much? It was almost like he knew something the brunette didn't, and it scared him, just a little. "It's all up and cool, my cute little motherfucker. See ya around! Honk." The dark haired stranger raised a hand to wave as he moved past the much shorter teenager, causing Travis to flinch slightly. The odd stranger suddenly slowed his movements, as if he didn't want to frighten the student any more than he already was. Without another word to each other, both boys continued on with their objectives. Travis almost dropped the key two more times, before he finally managed to wrestle his door open enough to allow him and his backpack to squeeze inside, and the stranger almost fell down every single step on the way down to the exit; his drugged up brain unable to comprehend what a 'stair' was for a small while.
Travis leaned heavily against the now closed and firmly locked door, trying to calm himself down. He dumped his backpack on the ground once again, and slowly slid down the door until he was crouched on the ground. "W.. What just... Who?" The mohawked boy whispered to himself, eyes wide and locked on the filthy wooden floorboards as he tried to figure out what on earth had just happened. "M-Motherfucker...?" He whispered, testing the word as he recalled what the stranger had said. "Cute.. little, uh.. motherfucker. Honk? Ha..Ahaha." As he thought over the situation and conversation, images of the others unnaturally large grin flashed through Travis's mind. He could not help the small smile that slid along his lips, and the quiet laughter that bubbled from his curved lips. And how very odd said smile and laughter felt, given the teenagers situation.