Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Inside Out ❯ Apathy isn't always a good thing. ( Chapter 5 )

It had been two months prior to the incident.
Elias had barely seen his brother since then, for he had made himself scarce.

Attending classes, going to work or just being out.

But he was thankful for it.

 

Even without him being around as a constant reminder, the emptiness inside of Elias proved to be distraction enough. He constantly seemed to find himself drifting off into thought in the middle of class, having no clue what was going on around him.

This had happened on several occasions actually. More or less being apparent in his last class of the day. Math.

 

He used to be good at it, if he took his time.

He could figure out the simplest of equations and then work his way up to a grade twelve level in one night. Arithmetic, Algebra, trigonometry, he could do it all. He even had some basic knowledge of chemistry, which didn't even count for another two years. (And wasn't that in science, anyway?)

 

But now in the span of two months, he was failing nearly everything. He simply couldn't be bothered to hand in assignments in any class, let alone math, and the last period of the day was when he found himself constantly wondering `will he be there when I get home?'

 

Curtis had taken note of his melancholy mood and had kept relatively quiet about it. Up until the previous day, that is it. Because up until then, he had remained as though he were oblivious. However, when he tried to talk to Elias about it yesterday; he realized that sadly, he wasn't fooling anyone.

 

Slamming his locker door closed, Elias sighed as he slid his arms through the straps of his backpack. Another day over and done with, another six overdue assignments.

Oddly enough, he found himself feeling nothing but apathy towards school. He simply drifted down the bright hallways, pushing passed people who were shoving one another, yelling, happy that the day was over.

 

Was this even something to get upset about?

He didn't know if it was rejection he was feeling—for when Lucas had been home, he was in his room or blatantly ignored Elias—but it couldn't be that much of a problem could it? His aches and pains had receded within the first few days, but every time he thought about what happened, he could feel himself digging a deeper hole. A hole that he knew he'd have a hell of a hard time getting out of if he didn't stop digging soon.

 

“Hey—Elias!

 

He continued to walk.

He didn't feel like talking to anybody right now.

Especially not Curtis. They had had a fight of sorts, or at least, in his perspective they had.

Curtis seemed like he was fine with going along as friends though, eager almost.

 

But Elias just couldn't let it go.

The words that he had shouted at him behind the school the previous day rang too clearly in his mind.

 

“What's wrong with you? Why are you acting so lame?”

“I'm not acting lame. I'm just …tired.”

“Tired? Is that why you space out all the time and never even talk to me anymore?”

“I talk to you.”

“No, you don't! Did your stupid brother do something to you again? You're an idiot! You need to tell someone. It's obvious that something happened.”

 

 

Word for word, practically.

Maybe it was immature of him to carry a grudge over being called an idiot?

He wasn't sure. He didn't care, though.

He didn't care about a lot of things anymore.

 

-

It would have been an exaggeration for him to say he was surprised when a strong hand clamped down on his elbow and jerked him out of the hall. The door that slammed behind him as the janitors closet became dark rang in his ears, and the silence that followed was nearly deafening.

 

The noises outside seemed oddly muted somehow, and when the naked bulb above him exploded into a flash of light, he could feel himself withdrawing further inside his body, as the other occupants of the cramped space came into view.

 

It was three members from the `SsiF' club.

Elias liked to refer to them as the “stupid fucking shitheads”, but the acronym would have been wrong, and actually stood for “Specialized Sciences in Forensics” which was extremely ironic, because anyone and everyone knew that the members of this club were actually the largest group of teenagers who broke the school rules (most likely the law, too).

 

And, as luck would have it, the three members (whom he immediately recognized as Terry, Mark and Eeathon), advanced forward, backing him into the furthest corner of the room. Blocking him from the door. He didn't know what it was, but fate sure as hell had it in for him. If he had been the type of person to believe in those kind of things, anyway.

 

“Your little buddy Curtis is selling weak drugs,” Terry seethed. His face was round, and his teeth were crooked, Elias noted. And despite his current situation, he thought it was rather humorous. A dry smile crept onto his lips but it quickly fell away when the boys face turned red from anger.

 

“You think this is funny?” he hissed. “It won't be so funny when you're lying on the ground!”

 

“Calm down Terry.”

 

Eeathon was in grade twelve. He was the oldest and most respected person in the entire SsiF club, and although they claimed to have no real “leader”, if anyone were to pick someone, it would be him. He was an imposing sight, despite his lean build.

 

 

His hair was cropped short for football, (he actually made an amazing tackle, some said) and he had a square-cut masculine jaw line. His shoulders were broad, and the muscle beneath his skin was sinewy but very apparent. Elias would never purposely go out of his way to piss this guy off. But it seemed he was in for it anyway, because Curtis already had.

 

His palms grazed the cool surface of the wall behind him as he stepped back, and Elias very carefully shifted his gaze towards the door. He wasn't strong, but he was fast. If he could get around Eeathon then maybe…

 

“Don't even think about it.”

 

Eeathon's arm came around his left side, and his palm met the wall beside Elias's head.

He flinched before shying away from him.

 

Terry had closed in on the other side of him, quite literally trapping Elias between the two boys. Mark loped back to the door and assumed a position by it—creepy how they seemed to communicate without words.

 

“What am I supposed to do about it?” he asked bitterly, suddenly resigned. “I don't sell drugs to people.”

 

Eeathon smiled, and fear bubbled inside of the boy for the first time in well, a while. Why was it him? Had he done something in a previous life to seriously set off whoever was in control of his fate? Was he really such a horrible person that every single and miniscule problem seemed to find its way to him? No, he was getting ahead of himself. Other people had it far worse.

 

Weren't family problems, school fights and broken friendships all part of High school?

And just because he'd never gotten into a fight in his first year of being here, that didn't mean it was never going to happen. It would come around sooner or later. Elias just didn't think it would be for something as stupid as this. This, this wasn't even his fault. He had nothing to do with what Curtis sold. Nothing to do with the drugs he pushed.

 

Hell, he'd only recently found out about it anyway.

 

“You two hang out a lot,” he began, tilting his head. His dark eyes were locked onto Elias's, and shit shit shit was the only thing running through his mind. Eeathon moved closer, and in attempts to keep their bodies from touching, the boy pressed his back firmly against the wall.

 

 

“So?”

 

Was his voice trembling? It sounded steady, but if he moved any closer— He couldn't handle situations like these well. Never had. Anyone who knew about what went on with his brother would know that. But they wouldn't, because he never talked about it. He was trying to forget about it anyway, since Lucas seemed content with ignoring his very existence.

 

Damn, this sucked.

 

“So, if we mess him up, he won't be able to fix our little dilemma. With you, he'll just get the message. Know we're serious. And we are serious.”

 

“Why d-don't you just talk to him then…?”

 

Great. He stuttered. Perfect timing to show fear. The `Ssif' members were like dogs. They could smell it a mile away. The situation didn't help considering he was practically fucking pressed right up against him.

 

Eeathon's hand moved from the wall down to Elias's jaw. Giving it a rough pat, he grabbed a hold of it before forcing his head upwards. He reached 6'3” easily, and Elias's neck jarred painfully as his head was jerked back.

 

“Because you're right here, and it's just so much easier to get it over with now. He knows we're looking for him, and I'll bet that he's hiding. He probably didn't even come to school today.”

 

Oh. Come to think of it, Elias hadn't seen Curtis at all that day. Not that he'd been looking for him, but he'd somewhat hoped in the back of his mind, that maybe, maybe if he came up and apologized, he would be able to say “okay” like usual, and they could go on like nothing ever happened.

 

After all, wasn't that what he wanted? To pretend like none of the things in the last year had happened? It just couldn't ever go the way he wanted it to for once. But alas, this was life.

 

Irritation boiled up inside of him, and Elias pushed Eeathon's hand away.

He didn't care what happened to himself, really. He just didn't want it to be because of something stupid his friend had done.

 

“If you want to deal with Curtis, deal with Curtis. I don't have anything to do with this.”

“You do now. You're not leaving until I'm finished.”

 

His eyes moved from Eeathon and then back to the door, where Mark was slouched casually against the frame.

 

This couldn't be happening.

 

But then again, a lot of things that couldn't (or was it shouldn't?) have happened, had indeed, happened. And although getting beat up wasn't exactly on his top priorities, it wasn't the worst thing that could have transpired. This didn't mean that he'd let them get away with it, though.

 

Damn him.

 

With one last ephemeral glance at the door, Elias dropped to his knees in the cramped space before pushing himself between Eeathon's parted legs. Once away from him, he sprang to his feet and headed for the tiny window that was stationed above several unstable looking boxes. Weighing his options, Elias ignored the voice inside of his head that was yelling the door stupid go for the fucking door! And instead, promptly jumped onto the boxes and began fumbling with the latch on the window.

 

He could hear them yelling and just as he managed to pry open the device with shaking fingers, strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him off of the boxes. Elias didn't have time to think about what he did next, and he was unsure if it was instinct or fear, but willing all of the strength he could into his small frame, he curled his legs up and kicked himself off of the wall.

 

Eeathon grunted as they collided on the floor, and Terry was already making a grab for him. Mark was by the window, probably to make sure he didn't try it again. Window. Head tilted back, Elias wiggled free from Eeathon's slackened grip. No one was by the door.

 

Rolling away from Terry who began cursing profusely, he all but fell towards the door. Hands closing round the knob, he yanked it free and bolted out into the hall. His knees were rubbery but he still kept running, ignoring the fact that he'd left his bag in his locker, and only focusing on the sound of footsteps behind him. This was bad so bad.

 

-

 

The sun was a relief, but it didn't really change anything.

Not when the school doors banged loudly behind him as the others too, ran outside.

And certainly not when a strong body collided with his from the back, knocking him to the ground and leaving him painfully breathless. Curling into a ball, he tried to writhe free from Eeathon's grasp as he forced him onto his back, but he had too strong a hold on him and to keep him in place, Eeathon straddled his hips.

 

There wasn't anyone in the nearby parking lot—no cars, save for a few (most likely the janitors) and Elias was briefly confused. Had they been in the closet that long? He didn't think every single student on campus would have left already. But such was his luck.

 

Pain swam along his left cheekbone, and his head snapped to the opposite side as Eeathon's fist collided with it. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he had to resist the urge to lift his hand and inspect it. Instead, he started yelling, ignoring the tremor in his voice.

 

“Get off! Get off!”

 

His protests were ignored and he was rolled onto his front, Eeathon leaning over him, his weight holding the boys own frail figure down. Elias's cries escalated into screams as his face was pressed firmly into the dirt to muffle his words. He tasted blood and it wasn't a surprise to find that his nose was bleeding.

 

“Why do the freshman's always have to be so fucking disobedient?”

 

“They're like dogs, Mark,” Eeathon breathed, as his fingers curled around Elias's wrists. The boy made a futile jerk of his arms and was only met with pain as they were wrenched even further back. He was panting from his struggles, and it seemed that now matter how hard he twisted or rolled, Eeathon had no trouble pushing him back onto his stomach.

 

“He's so tiny, you could break him.”

 

The three chuckled, before Elias managed to catch Eeathon's muttered words. It probably wasn't meant for any of them to hear, but he did. And he was scared.

 

“I plan to.”

 

He was back to screaming.

He hadn't screamed when his brother had done it. He hadn't screamed because deep down inside, he knew that what his brother did was out of some sick desperation. He needed the closeness, didn't he? Didn't he? That was why it had gone too far that night, because he had wanted Lucas to love him. Not see him as an object that was merely there for… for whatever he felt like doing.

 

And this was all just to get back at Curtis.

 

“Shut up, kid, people are going to hear.”

 

His head hit the dirt as Eeathon forced his temple down hard against the ground. His breath caught and he had to pause in his screaming to spit up blood, before continuing on despite the fact that his throat was starting to burn.

 

“Take him back around the school!” Terry hissed. “Show him being a smartass won't do anything for him.”

 

And so he was dragged there, blood dripping from his nose, kicking, yelling and putting up as a struggle as he was able, Mark and Terry holding firm to his arms. Eeathon's own arm was wrapped around his waist, and Elias found it an effort to even try and keep up with his brisk pace. So yeah, he struggled instead.

 

The solidity was painfully hard on his shoulder blades, and his head bounced off the wall as Eeathon slammed him up against it. Mark promptly took watch at the mouth of the alley (which was created by the walls of the gymnasium and the cafeteria), while Terry assumed a position behind Eeathon, a you're going to get it now shit head expression written along features.

 

“Don't touch me!” he growled, his anger dissolving into a sort of horrible resignation that never failed to have him feeling helpless, worthless, nothing. And his words lacked conviction, as his body grew weary from his previous struggles. From the pounding headache mounting behind his eyes. From the blood that coated the front of his face, the swelling of his cheek. From Curtis.

 

From Curtis.

 

His pants dropped to the ground as Eeathon twisted him back so that his front was pressed up against the wall. Elias's breathing was hard, and he knew he was hyperventilating. In, out, in, out. Deep breathes.

 

It wasn't working.

 

“You tell him that he better start selling legit drugs,” Eeathon breathed, as his hand snaked around to pull Elias back up against him. “or this'll happen to him, too.”

 

 

-*-

 

He absolutely hated High schools. He'd been elated when he had left out of his, diploma in hand; ready to `face the world' (as his mother loved to put it). So how was it that he constantly seemed drawn to them, for one reason or another? Tonight it was the teachers PTA meeting. His cousin had invited him down so that they could go over a few things in regards to his own university marks, and how they would reflect on his application to be a counselor at the school. Also, he'd said, so that he could `get the feel of the it.'

 

He scoffed.

 

All high schools were the same.

Cafeteria and gym on the main floor, upper classes on the higher floors.

There really wasn't much to figure out. He could probably find his way around blindfolded. And he hadn't even been inside yet.

 

Removing his glasses, Sheek killed the engine of the car before leaning back against the seat. Closing his eyes, he shook his head and rubbed his temples. He would openly admit that he was still stressed about the situation between Lucas and his brother, and to be honest, that was really the only reason these headaches came so frequently.

 

Slipping the delicate frames back onto his nose, he swung the car door open and stepped outside. Frowning at the relatively deserted grounds, he slammed the door and shoved his car keys into the pockets of his jeans.

 

Maybe he was a little early?

Oh well. He could head inside now then, and get familiar with the layout of the school. Save his friend the trouble afterwards.

 

 

But that's when he saw him.

He probably thought he was being inconspicuous, and, he probably would have been, had it not been for the tense way he was standing, or the very particular way he eyed his surroundings. Their eyes locked for only a moment, and Sheek knew something was up.

Stepping forward, he was not surprised, but mildly alarmed as the kid turned and disappeared into the alley. Several minutes later, another two emerged with him.

 

One of them, the tallest, looked rather smug about something.

Peculiar.

He continued to advance, and wasn't overly concerned about the boys who stayed where they were in front of the alley. What lay beyond them had him worried, and he was already slightly irritated as the words from one of the members of the group cut through the air.

 

“Come to pick up the trash?”

 

Adjusting his glasses, Sheek tugged gently at the jacket he was wearing over his dark grey sweater, and cleared his throat.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I said, you come to pick up the trash? You look like you fit the job.”

 

“Your wit astounds me,” he replied dryly. “but if you don't mind, step aside please. I have more important things to deal with then a few overgrown children.”

The boys jaw tightened, and he started forward before the taller of them grabbed his shoulders.

 

“S'alright, Terry. Leave him alone. We're done here.”

 

`Terry' spat at his feet before the others were quick to lead him away, and Sheek remained where he was a moment or two longer to make sure that they did nothing to his car. Once they were gone from sight, he shook his head and turned back to the alley.

His footsteps were light as he made his way in, and he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that lay before him.

 

Shit.

 

“Elias.”

 

The boy lay curled up in a heap on the ground, his pants around his ankles. His hair was matted with dirt, and streaks of blood marred his arms. His face was obscured by the ground, as he seemed to be cradling it carefully between his hands.

 

But the sobs mingled with dry heaving was undeniable.

 

--

 

 

A/N: SO! This is the fifth chapter! Yaaaay~! ^__^ I'm finally done! I need to apologize for not getting this up sooner. My Internet hasn't been working. ><

And it might actually seem like it goes on and on, but I really enjoyed writing this chapter so that's why. <. < I have the perfect plan for the next few chapters and lots of drama and ExL, I promise. : 3

 

So um… review please!! I'm so happy that I got all of these views, but not very many people have reviewed! I love hearing what you think of the story so far! Also, I'll be posting some art of the two brothers up very soon so keep a look out for it! <3