The Boy With A Broken Heart
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Sacha sat in silence, smoking his cigarette and sketching, while Motochika talked about his family and why he was there. So he had parents that loved him but had bratty pseudo-siblings. And he had chosen to come to this place. Well, he seemed lucky by Sacha's standards. At least he wasn't neglected. At least his parents wanted him around. They loved him. Sacha was nothing but a burden to his father. So hearing that Motochika was yet another person that had a better life than he did bothered him more than he'd like to admit. But it never showed on his face. His expression was blank and his gaze focused on the sketch, even if his mind was elsewhere at the moment. Though when Motochika asked about why he was there at Charleston Academy, Sacha had to think about the answer. He certainly wasn't going to tell the truth. Especially not to a total stranger that he already had very little patience for. So he had to think of something. Luckily it looked like he was sketching so intensely that he might not have even heard the question, so that bought him a little time. Though if Motochika asked again, he knew he'd have to answer right then so he needed to think of something quickly.
"My father annoys me. So I'm here." That was the only thing Sacha said on the matter. It wasn't entirely untrue. His father did annoy him but Sacha wouldn't choose to be here. He'd rather be dead. But his plans over the summer had been foiled and while no one would say it openly, he knew the school's staff would be watching him to make sure he was alive and breathing. Not that it mattered. His father wouldn't care and aside from him, Sacha didn't really have anyone else. His family in Germany would merely shake their heads and say things like, "it was only a matter of time," or some other smarmy answer to the news of Sacha's death. Everyone stopped giving a damn about Sacha the day his mother died. From that point on, it was all about them and Sacha was left to fend for himself. It was why he'd grown attached to so many material items. The bear had been a gift from his mother as a baby. The picture of her he carried with him was the only one of her he had that his father hadn't locked away in his secret shine that he thought Sacha didn't know he had. And he loved his books. His mother had loved to read and she'd taught him to read earlier than most kids. So he cherished every book he had, including the ones that used to be his mother's. And Sacha wore a lot of black clothing because, all these years later, he was still in mourning of her death. He just couldn't let go of the memory of the only person that cared.
Finishing his sketch, he closed the book and dropped it on the desk and put the pencil back in the cup on his desk. He took his last drag of his cigarette, turned his palm face up, and put the cigarette out in his hand. It seemed like the pain of his burning flesh didn't even bother him. Once the cigarette butt was out, Sacha blew on it to see if there were any red sparks that indicated possible flames. When he saw none, he tossed the cigarette butt in the trash. He then looked at the fresh burn on his hand and just stared at it a little while. Afterwards, he looked over at Motochika with his one good eye. The other one, well, he was nearly blind in his right eye thanks to one of his father's drunken rages. He remembered that day very clearly in his mind but he'd long since desensitized himself to the events of that day. "I'm assuming you play sports. You look big enough." Sacha's voice was a matter-of-fact tone that held little interest in the subject matter but it was either talk to Motochika or die of his current boredom.
♫ It would break your heart
♫ If you knew me well
♫ See, I have run so far
♫ That I've lost myself
♫ And there are things that I have seen
♫ That I will never tell
♫ They drove me out of my mind
♫ And inside of myself
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