Quote:
The Holidays are supposed to be a time for cheer, and yet there's something strangely dismal about tonight. You're out by yourself and you pass by a building completely coated in a strange sheet of ice. When you catch your reflection, you're trapped reliving your loneliest moment. The illusion can last for as long or short a time as you like, but the hollow sensation lingers even after the memory fades. What memory did you find yourself reliving and, now that it's over, what are you going to do to shake this mood?
It was ******** cold. And dark. And miserable.
Trey hated the short days, the long nights. The way he had to drape himself in layers just to keep some warmth in him. He hated the way his nose and fingertips stung, leading to unattractive redness, and the way hats mussed his hair if he didn't want to freeze the top of his head.
Winter was a terrible time and all the cheer of the holidays was lost on him, the decorations striking him as terribly fake and the music tin-y and off key in the worst way. If he could have buried himself in his room and slept till spring, or flown to Hawaii maybe, he would have been quite happy.
Hand stuffed into his coat pockets, he buried his nose into his thick scarf and tried to lengthen his steps, wanting back into the decent warmth of the University's main hall as quickly as possible. He almost didn't notice the building he was passing, till a glint of something made him glance to the side.
Ice. His eyes followed it upwards, skimming to the sides and back in growing unease. Ice coated everything as far as he could see, encasing the stonework in a thin layer. It shone in the streetlights, smooth and reflective in the strangest way. He'd never seen ice like that, even in Destiny City... His reflection echoed his motions as the young man reached out to himself, glancing up into his own darkened eyes...
People were talking in hushed tones as they loitered about the comfortable front room, made uncomfortable by too many bodies and a strange quiet. In the next room over, Trey could hear his mother crying and railing at police officers by turns, putting the famous razor edge of her tongue to them. He grimaced as he looked out into the darkness beyond the window, a cold cup of coffee in his hand as a beard for normality, for composure. He felt anything but.
His shoulders itched and he KNEW his mother's 'friends' were looking at him, the tones of their voices changing subtly, though he couldn't make out their conversation. Of course they were talking about him. God knew what they were saying, though he'd bet his fancy car it was speculation. About his role in this, about what he would do without his brother, about how maybe it was Joellen's fault, she'd done something to drive him away, and now only Trey was left to suffer under her abuses...
He hated they were here, and he hated he had to be. Rowan was somewhere out there, maybe hurt, maybe held against his will, who knew? Or maybe he really had run away and was waiting for Trey to come find him, help him... No one else understood how much Rowan meant to him, or he to Rowan. No one else could feel the pain he was feeling now, the emptiness and loss. Without Rowan here... he felt so utterly alone. No one else understood him. Saw past the veneer. He didn't trust anyone the way he trusted his brother, and he was HERE... It welled up inside of him, closing up his throat and making his eyes burn.
Everything felt meaningless, empty. Nothing mattered. But still he was here, mask in place, waiting for his mother to be ready to send the hanger-ons away. He was so tired...
Trey blinked and his chest ached, enough to make him press a hand against it through his coat. It had been a year, more or less, now. A year of Rowan gone, missing. Knowing what he knew now about the Negaverse... probably dead. It was no less a gaping wound for the time that had passed than it had been when it was fresh. He ached everywhere with it, anger bubbling up mixed with resentment. Towards his mother, towards Chase, towards everyone who made demands on him. It was their fault Rowan was gone and he was alone...
Trey jerked away from the wall, straightening his coat with jerky motions as he forced himself to start walking again.
Rowan was gone, and without more information, there was nothing that was going to bring him back. It was hard to accept, and he still hadn't, really. The ache in his chest followed him like a ghost as he headed for the main hall, his mood even lower.
Count: 734
