I See You When You Don't

                                              CHAPTER ONE:

                                        |I See You When You Don't|

                                                       • • •

POV: AARON BROWN.

"If this is love, then I'll gladly dive in a billion times and over."

I readjusted into my seat. My back had began to ache from leaning forward for quite a long time, and besides, the point I had earlier set on stage, was keenly aborted, and thus, the lack of need to throw my face into the stern one who found pleasure at leaving my drama unattended.

While solemnly sulking over my miss-met view, I  stared back at the glasses glaring at me just a few inches away.

"Or maybe it isn't." I pressed on. "Maybe it's something else, a bond of fate... But I can't help but be drawn to him."

Mr Hamilton simply sighed, and slumped into his seat, as exasperation riddled on his face, even though he tried veiling it. My session with him wasn't the reason he felt drained, the ones before were. In fact, he enjoyed listening to my emo-mental rants than any other, and needless to say, I was paying a good couple o' bucks per hour, so he had to look his best, even though it meant him fighting his mental exhaustion.

"Let me say this Aaron," At this point, he lacked the strength to get a smile halfway through, bothering at it would clearly be a waste of time, but he struggled to lay one on me.

"love and obsession are two different things. They seem alike, but are very much apart —"

"Are you saying I'm obsessed with the guy?"

Gotta admit, I did love how sincere, and unsugarcoated his words relentlessly were, as much as I love that I didn't take them overly personal.

"Don't get me wrong Aaron. First, you need to ask yourself, which is it. I'm I in love with this boy, or is he the ideal character I'd love to be?"

For a divorced middle aged man, with two kids, Hamilton and I had an understanding that extended beyond a doctor-patient relationship, which I had always tried to maintain; keeping it at a lukewarm state. Still, at the time, thoughts of any suitable reply was gone, so I did what I would normally do, I went into a mode of awkward silence, with predetermined exposure of the session's closure.

"I was never obsessed with him" And like I said, I felt drawn to him.

It was like we were the same being existing in parallel universes, but still within the same galaxy –I doubt if that even makes any sense? And in this separate world of ours, I was the only one with the ability of cognitive awareness of our existence, while he was devoid of it.

And I saw Adrian, clear as crystal.

Even he didn't, I still could see him, his screaming ego, the loudness that graces his sad kingly steps, those piercing gray eyes that are confident and calm as the air that rolled by the second he moved his head, even the gentle manner in his one worded reply, and the soft melting smile he forces on. What I saw more, with prestigious eloquence, was his groaning loneliness.

I wonder if I'll ever be more than a smeared paint to him, the kind that looks like a brown patch of dirt splattered against a brick wall –not so attracting, and definitely not worth a second look. Him not noticing is something I can say was not intentional, but a burden that has been braided into the who he was; a struggle he's been made to bear for a very long time. That alone made being a fit in his wrecked galaxy, even more impossible for someone of my. . .perspective. And shutting everyone out, was his own way of protecting innocent freaks like me from getting into his messed up world and ghastly-dark universe.

But that doesn't stop me, it only made me desire him more. I wanted to know him, every him... I needed to!

Though defamed, with ringing vouche-less testaments, he never seemed fazed up by the scurrying lashes of tales that sprung up both in his absence and presence. Their words and irrevocable slurs, were nonexistent to him, just as the passing shadow of the morning sun.

Although I did see his knuckles bleed, his shirt stained red with the blood of Stewart, James Stewart. He had either insulted his mother, call him names, or played too roughly with him, the rumors had so many plots to the play, but all versions were right at the verse of James getting cornered, and beaten half dead. As he brooded over James' unconscious body, those admirably meek gray eyes turned heavy and remorseless, filled with hate than anger, baked in fear, a carefully masked fear nobody noticed, or nobody cared to give a second look, but it stood out, glimmering like a bleeding sore.

He is who he is.

*****

My heart skipped a beat as he popped into Devon's Living room.

"What is he doing here?"

The sight of him was unsettling, and so was his eyes, searching . It swept the whole living room booming with rock music, and thick bundles of other teenagers,

"but this isn't his usual crowd!?"

and within a second, he disappeared.

"Did he find what he sorted for?"

I had no idea, and I certainly did not know why I chose to attend a party on a freaking Monday. If not for my...situation, I'm sure I'd be dead the second I get home, but still, that didn't stop mom from calling and sending me a billion messages already.

Being here must be fate, as there seemed to be that thin thread that strings us undivided as one: a cosmic connection? Not very so.

But this was an opportunity I would rather not sell out to undetermined statistics, and the fearful calculation my relentless mind undertook.

"First, I need to find him."

I squeezed through, dance and jiggled over, manoeuvred, and fruitfully slipped over the dancing highschoolers loitered at every available corner, either high or making an effort at it.

I couldn't find him.

Asking, with a detailed description won't help, and above all, that's just plain weird.

So I kept searching.

The kitchen, bathrooms, courtyard, bedrooms, and every corner he could be snuggling a cigarette between his lips. But he seemed lost, sunken deep below the earth, or exiled to the creeping shadows: his greatest wish.

"You fucking prick!"

Madelyn screamed, and popped through the balcony's glass door. She was devoid of my existence —not like I've been acknowledged before –as she stormed past me, in seething antagonistic fury.

The lights beyond the stained glass door leading to the balcony, were as eclipsed as his always blackened humor, and so was his silhouette, laying casually over the iron railings of the balcony.

There certainly is a balcony in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet piece, and this certainly might be mine. Though this was just a step in the act, and I don't mean suicide.

"Many would do anything to see a Gorgon's panties... Why?"

I had assumed that Madelyn's seismic outrage, was from being dumped or rejected, which I must point out, is extremely rare.

My question was thrown at him or perhaps his back, after I had muscled up courage, and approached him. But for a moment there, I did wonder if I sounded like some stalker to him, or someone who just happened to be there right at the nick of it all?

He looked at me first, before replying. And I'm certain 'stalker...weirdo...nerd...boring...and sissy', must have been the description of me running crazy in his head, which without a stench of doubt, also had 'clingy' in it.

"She's not very much my type," free falling, with no respect for gravity, were how his words floated, riding the currents of his aura, before dropping to earth. "I like them... invisible."

I didn't get what he meant be "invisible", but Adrian fucking McCleron just spoke to me! He sparingly gave me his attention –not even his eyes looked my way –, but his words were more than enough to fuel me with an overwhelming ecstasy.

Shit! If this were one of RWHB's Matches, and a three pointer was set through the rim by the dude before me, the jolts rushing through my body would've sent me in the air, screaming my guts out. But I didn't. I tried burying it, and putting my surges of excitement on a leash.

"She loves you doesn't she? And you don't seem to –"

"Love?"

He seemed shocked by the word. Nothing I said before seemed worthy of his time, but this knightly word, clad in golden armor, laced with fresh bleeding cuts and patches, drew more than just his attention.

"I don't believe in love, or any cosmic spark between two people. Love is just our brain giving us a reason to not use a condom."

Adrian McCleron, shrouded in mystery, alive in a world that is zillions of light years away from mine, crowned in kingship of his domain, a territory I would venture with enough guts, and no hope of glory, a blank page that is safer to live on being blank. That's he, Adrian McCleron, and I see him.

___________

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello there, I don't know how you stumbled upon this book, but I'm glad you did.

But before you continue, there'll be a lot of swearing, alcohol and drug use, and love between two boys. If you feel uncomfortable by the LGBTQ+ genre, I suggest you hit the "x" on your tab, or tap the return option on your phone. Homophobic or personal questioning comments WILL be deleted by me(don't even bother with a DM, I won't respond), so, its best you turn back now, 'cause this ride is gonna be as queer as...as it should be.

Finally, this story is written basically from an omniscient's view, but characters' POV like on this chapter, will also be included from time to time. I hope you enjoyed this chapter? If you do, please hit the "STAR" thingy that says vote. And I very much welcome comments and your personal reviews, so please, drop hundreds of them, or for it to be more private, you can slide into my DM. Thank you so much.