Adrien Walker
Tuesday morning rolls around, and my limbs are still slightly aching from yesterday's tryouts. It's currently 4:50 am, my alarm should be going off in ten minutes, but before it has a chance to ring, I turn it off.
I quickly change into a grey tank top with black shorts and slip on my running shoes. When I'm finished, I head downstairs. Just as I pass the living room, I see a lump on my couch. I stand there, confused for a few seconds before remembering that Ethan spent the night.
I can clearly see him shivering; the house isn't even cold. Has he been shivering the entire night? I run back upstairs and grab my duvet. I toss it over him, but then I feel a little guilty so sort it out a little. He instantly stops shivering.
After looking down at him one last time, I head towards the front door. Fingers crossed he doesn't wake up whilst I'm gone. I shove my earphones in and do a few stretches before setting off on my run.
I love being out watching the sunrise. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those philosophical guys, but there's just something about watching the early morning sunrise while it's dead quiet. It's truly amazing.
Even though it's the end of September, the weather is pretty decent. It's not humid, nor is it freezing; it's just a nice breeze.
After half an hour of running, I arrive at the gym. I head straight to the top floor, work out for an hour, and then do my thirty-minute run back home.
When I get in, I quickly glance at Ethan to check if he's still sleeping before heading straight towards the bathroom. I hop in the shower, get dressed, grab my backpack and head back down to eat breakfast.
It's currently 7:15 am. It usually only takes me 15 minutes to eat, pack my bag and leave, but with Ethan still asleep on the couch, who knows when I'll be setting off.
He's been asleep for more than 12 hours; he better not still be tired. Twelve fucking hours, man. Doesn't oversleeping also cause tiredness and a load of other shit?
Should I shake him awake or make a load of noise to see if he'll wake up himself?
Nah, that'll take too long.
Quietly I make my way over to him and gently shake his shoulders.
"Ethan, man, wake up," shake shake, "Ethan, come on we've got school."
He slowly lifts his head and gives me a confused look.
He may still be drowsy from the painkillers.
"You fell asleep so you stayed the night. Bathroom's upstairs, you've got 15 minutes so hurry up and get ready."
Once he nods, I make my way to the kitchen.
The first thing I do is bin the microwave meal I took out for him and my uneaten chicken salad from yesterday; I wash the container before making myself some more. Jayden better not put me off my fucking food again.
Just as I reach for the lid, I hear him coming down the stairs.
Well, that was far quicker than I was expecting.
He awkwardly stands in the kitchen doorway, shuffling his weight between his feet.
"What's the matter?"
He doesn't respond for a few seconds, he softly asks, "Where's my bag?"
I vaguely gesture towards the staircase, "At the bottom of the stairs."
Did he not see it? He must have walked right past it.
He doesn't respond but instead turns around and leaves.
Wait, is he leaving right now? Does he not realise that it's a ten-minute drive to school from here? It'll take him forever to walk that distance. Never mind that, would he even know the way?
I quickly follow him. "You can catch a ride with me to school," I tell him as he picks his bag back up.
He gives a small nod and trudges towards the direction of the staircase. I walk back into the kitchen.
I quickly clip the container shut; we're going to be late at this rate. But I get to school thirty minutes early usually, so we won't actually be late. Though I would still prefer to get there before the bell rings, I hate rushing.
Just as I'm putting my lunch in my bag, it occurs that he doesn't have any lunch.
He better not be a vegetarian or vegan or a fucking pescetarian like Luke claims he is. But he loves chicken nuggets too much to fully commit. I can't help but roll my eyes as I think back to our many arguments on the subject. He's such a fucking idiot.
Sighing, I squeeze my eyes shut; I very much doubt that we'll have those ridiculous debates again. His stupid 'would you rather' questions, bickering over what to watch, which noodle packets are the best, laughing at him pronouncing shit wrong, just watching him be him.
I miss him.
I miss them.
I miss us.
I hear the shower turn off upstairs, so I quickly swallow the lump in my throat as I throw a load of salad and chicken strips into the container before squeezing the container shut. Fuck, I forgot to add salad dressing. But I'm not opening it up just to have everything spill out. He'll just have to go without.
Once that's done, I grab two cups, two bowls, and two spoons, as well as the cereal, a jug of milk, and orange juice. I pour myself some oatmeal squares and milk into a bowl. Cereal always before milk.
As his footsteps get closer to the kitchen, I quickly look down at my phone, aimlessly scrolling through Twitter as I eat.
Once again, he pauses at the doorway, "Aren't you going to eat? Surely you must be hungry." I don't think he's eaten since lunch yesterday.
He does as he's told, but he doesn't make a move to eat anything. "Do you not like cereal or something?" I query.
He's being weirdly quiet, maybe he's just not a morning person.
He shakes his 'no' head in response.
"Alright," I say, "do you want some toast instead?"
He nods his head, so I get up and drop some bread in the toaster. I get some jam, butter, and chocolate spread out and put it on the table in front of him. Neither one of us says anything as I place the plate in front of him, "Orange juice?" I ask. He doesn't reply but gets a glass and pours himself some.
He doesn't put anything on his toast; he just eats them as they are. Now that's fucking weird. But I don't say anything. Instead, I switch to scrolling through insta.
I can't help but glance over at him a few times. He's got his hair tied up.
Despite the bruises and slight swelling, he looks a lot more rested than he usually does when he walks into school. I guess he slept alright on the couch.
"Are you okay?"
He looks over at me, "Yeah."
"Then why are you being so quiet? Like that's the second thing you've said to me since you woke up."
He raises an eyebrow, "I woke up like 10 minutes ago and I asked you where my bag is."
"Yeah I know but you're still being quieter than usual, what's up?"
He doesn't respond as we continue staring at each other, he looks down at his dry-ass toast before looking back at me, "How did I get inside?"
I can't help but smile at him, chuckling a little before replying, "I carried you in."
His eyes widen slightly as he looks at me like he doesn't believe me.
"You were out cold, I dunno what Macie gave you but you just weren't waking up. Hella awkward trying to angle you whilst trying to unlock the door, but I managed."
He looks quite embarrassed, "I'm sorry. She gave me some painkillers and they were making me really drowsy, I managed to stay awake at the library but must have fallen asleep in your car, sorry."
"It's fine, don't worry about it."
He nods, taking a bite of his toast.
"Who else lives here?"
"No one, just me."
He looks over at me confused, so I elaborate, "Erm my mother moved out shortly after my Dad passed away. Maya comes every other Friday to stock up the fridge and clean but other than that it's usually just me."
I try to smile at him through the nauseating feeling that's associated with the thought of my mother.
She's not a terrible person, just a shit parent.
She never told me she was leaving, there was no note or phone call or anything.
I woke up to an empty house one day. I thought she'd just left for work early, then a day passed and I thought she must have stayed over at a friend's, then another day went by and I figured she was at some work conference which meant she couldn't answer the phone. A week after she left I realised she wasn't coming back when I received a credit card in the post, she'd opened me a bank account and would deposit money into it at the end of every month. She still does to this day, I'm assuming she'll stop once I turn 18.
She didn't even come back when she heard I'd been admitted to the psych ward. All she did was arrange for Maya to come over every other Friday once I'd been released. Ma tried to convince me to move in with her, but I'd turned 16 by then.
Really, I just didn't want to burden anyone.
I drive people away, and I didn't want to risk losing anyone else.
Yet here I am with no parents and no friends, guess I did that without even trying.
Maybe it's me, maybe I am the issue.
People just hate being around me.
"So, who put the duvet on me?" Ethan's voice rings out breaking me out of my pity party.
"Huh? Oh, I did."
"I heard you leave. Where did you go so early?"
"You were awake?"
"I was in and out of sleep."
"How come? And I went to the gym."
"I was cold."
"Sorry, I really should have given you an extra blanket. Next time you sleep over you can use the guest room, it's basically Trevor and Luke's room but I'm sure they won't mind. Or remind me to get you an extra blanket."
He smiles at me, a genuine smile, "Thank you."
"Shit, hurry up and finish your toast, we're gonna be late."
Once he's done, I put our dishes in the sink and everything back where it belongs. I quickly sling my bag over my shoulder before grabbing the other container. I push it towards his chest before walking past him and out of the kitchen.
Just as I reach the front door, he hurriedly catches up to me.
We drive in silence for a bit. I peek over at him, noticing that he's untied his hair. But not only that he's also actually wearing different clothes from yesterday. This is his third outfit change.
Seeing as though he gets pushed around a lot, it's not shocking that he carries spare clothes with him. He probably started doing that after the cafeteria incident. I can still see them grabbing him to dunk him into that overflowing pot of mouldy spaghetti - thankfully, it wasn't hot. He's had food dumped on him, his face has been shoved down toilets, and he's even been thrown inside rubbish bins.
Last year, when the gym was getting repainted, the older assholes on the team pushed him into a ladder that had a big paint bucket on top of it. He ended up being covered in white paint from head to toe. Coach made him clean up the paint, and he didn't even let him go shower first.
I still don't know how he managed to clean it all up from the floor and make sure there wasn't a stain left.
He had to stay behind for a month to paint the rest of the gym alone for further punishment. I'm pretty certain that was the time he fell off the ladder and broke his arm. I mean, it was to be expected, asking a barely 5-foot kid to paint the entire gym.
These are the only incidents I've witnessed with my own eyes, and a part of me doesn't want to begin to imagine the other shit they must've done to him.
He was picked on as a kid, but it wasn't too bad between the ages of 5 and 8. Back then, he was just the weird quiet kid who always seemed dirty and only wore old clothes. No one ever got close to him; they were afraid that he would stink. He'd get called awful names, but it didn't ever go beyond that.
All through school, he sat at the very front of the class, away from everyone else. The teachers seemed to like him, though, probably because of how small he was compared to everyone else. Well, he still is small.
He used to be an adorable child; with pale skin, rosy cheeks, and a cute little afro. Now he's always covered in bruises, so much so that it's hard to tell just what his skin tone is meant to be. His once cute little afro is now completely out of control like he doesn't even bother looking after it.
Then the kids got older, a lot of them hit puberty, and that's where it all got a lot worse.
Lewis and his group used to bully him the most, but they graduated last year. Matt, Lewis' younger brother, seems to want to follow in his brother's footsteps. From then on, it became some sort of competition to see who would be the first person to make him react to a beating. But he never reacted. He never cried like they wanted him to. Never begged them to stop, not even when they started breaking bones. It's as if he's trained to bear it silently which wouldn't surprise me considering the fact that the Sheriff is his father.
As I pull up into the school parking lot, I glance over at him again. I expected him to be asleep, but instead, he's twiddling his fingers, looking down at his lap.
I really do hope today's a better day for him. He certainly doesn't need any more bruises.
"You know you can join me on the school rooftop at any time, right?" I ask for the millionth time.
"I know."
"Okay, and tell me if anyone bothers you, alright?"
He nods. But I know he won't ever be the one to tell without me asking first.
I reach into the backseat and grab the jacket I threw in there for him last week and pass him it, "It might rain later."
"Thanks."
I ruffle his hair smiling, "Right, come on I'm sure the bell's about to ring."
--
Thoughts?
I'm actually quite happy with this chapter, I feel like this chapter shows the real Adrien. But what did you think?