Chapter Text
A glint of the sunlight hits the surface of his eyelids, as he strains them together. The loud “beep” of the alarm irritates his ears, as he cracks his eyes open to be welcomed with the morning sunshine entering his room, weaving through his half-closed blinds. The sweet smell of the dewy grass outside after the rainstorm last night fills him with peace, but not for long.
“Zach, boy, you will be late for school. Get down here and hurry up!”
Zach's father coldly yells from downstairs as his voice slurs with a hangover. His father drank a lot last night, it wasn't unusual. He groaned, wanting to lay in his bed for the rest of the day, but he couldn't. He didn't have a choice.
Zach shifts upwards, and moves his legs off and up from the bed. He stumbles, as a split second of light-headedness hits him like a truck. He falls back onto his bed as his eyesight goes from black to a slight blur. He sighs, he didn't eat anything yesterday…at all. It wasn't very surprising that he started getting dizzy over small actions. He stood up again, slower, until his dads voice bit the insides of his ear again with his harshness.
“You're taking too long! You're gonna make me have to take you to school! Do you want me to get arrested, Zach? Quickly! Now!”
He sighed, grumbling softly as he took a breath and responded back with the most nicest tone he could give.
“Sorry, Dad! I'm coming now!”
An exhale of relief spouted out his teeth, no response meant he wasn't…too mad that he's taking too long. He glanced at the slightly reddish-brown stains on his nightstand…but, he was too worried about his father getting upset, so Zach stretched, and ran downstairs as if he was running from a coyote. He spotted his father laying on the couch like a slob. He could only think those words, say them, and he would probably regret it. Badly.
He walk-runned to the fridge in a rush, looking in it for some joke of a “lunch” to bring to school. The faint hum of the fan running inside the fridge filled the silence, other than his fathers loud breathing. Zach opened the door as it creaked, looking inside.
An opened bowl of expired hummus…
An overripe banana that looked like a stickbug…
And…
A single bottle of fresh, cold water.
Good enough.
He grabbed the bottle, as he shoved it in his backpack full of books and crumpled up paper planes. Zach rushed to the front door, seeing the bus getting ready to leave, as he practically taped his shoes on, hanging from his ankles. He waved to the bus driver, as the driver waved back with a smile on his face.
…Familiar.
He hopped on the bus, as he noticed all the kids staring at him. At least…that's what he felt was happening.
The popular girls were putting their half-blended makeup on, fixing their fake lashes and plastic barbie doll makeup.
The weird geeks were talking about Magic the Gathering and My Little Pony. Zach had a desire in his heart to join them, yet…if he did, he would've gotten bullied so bad he would've had to swap schools again - which definitely won't happen due to his dads crippling debt.
The goths and emos were showing off their new hairstyles they got over the weekend, and their new insane layers of jewelry that could stop blood flow.
And…the back.
2 empty seats.
Surrounded by jocks and football boys, all wearing the same outfit - a football hoodie or t-shirt, black or blue jeans and some of the ugliest backwards caps he's ever seen.
He sighs, knowing that if he sat anywhere else, he'd have to squish against everyone else. He walked down the bus, as the driver shouted.
“Sit down, everyone! I don't want any of you guys cracking your heads open when I'm driving, or else that's on me.”
He quickly sat at the window, wanting to stare and zone out until they got to the school grounds. He could hear the boys next to him talking about his messy, greasy hair, and laughing openly about it…as if he didn't hear enough bad things about him already.
What seems like forever, after multiple stops, and kids screaming, they reached the highschool. He looked up at the tall building, as he rubbed his eyes - he forgot to wash up. Great. Another thing to be bullied about today.
He stepped off the bus, slouched over, his backpack handles digging into his shoulders. The jocks nudged past him, nearly knocking him over into the muddy grass. A blessing from God that he kept his balance and didn't fall over.
…Time for another excruciatingly boring day at school.
* ˚ ✦
Finally, the bus home. Zach's legs ached and throbbed, walking around the school campus exhausted him like crazy. He felt like he learnt absolutely nothing. He was cramped in-between all the other kids in the back, as they purposefully nudged their elbows into him. It hurt his ribs, he felt like they were going to crack. Until…
Zach's house.
‘Finally, somewhere where I can get at least a bit more peace.’
He stumbles out of the bus as it nearly speeds off before he even gets out. He stood outside his house for a minute, staring at all the cracked paint and overgrown grass. His house was a wreck.
He followed the ever so slightly visible path to the front door, as he creaked it open to his father, setting 3 cases of beer on the table.
…He had money for beer, but not for food?
“Dad, what are you doing…?”
Zach cautiously inquired, even though his dad was a complete asshole, he showed obvious concern.
“What does it look like I'm doing, boy? I got beer. Do you have a problem, Zach?”
“N-no, Dad. It's okay.”
“Are you giving me attitude, boy? Don't think that you have a say in what I do with my money. Are you being ungrateful?”
“No, Dad! I'm not, I didn't mean to give you .. attitude - I'm sorry!”
“Don't think I'm stupid, I wasn't born yesterday. You're being an ungrateful brat, Zach. I use my money the way I want it to be used.”
Zach's dad approached him with what seemed like great rage. He could feel himself faintly shivering, already keeping his hands up in defense.
“After everything I do for you, this is how you want to treat me?! You're being fucking stupid, Zach!”
“Dad…please…I'm sorry…”
“Stop it with this ‘sorry’ bullshit! Godamnit, Zach!”
His fathers hand waved back and struck him on his face.
His hands lifted to cover up his cheek, turning red, looking up to his father with glossy eyes.
A helpless kitten in a world of hate.
That's what he was.
Helpless.
“Stop- Dad! Please, I'm sorry! Ow! Please!”
“Shut the fuck up! Being an ungrateful child leads to this, Zach! Don't fucking question me again, got it?”
“Yes- I do! Please! Stop - ack - Dad please! STOP!”
“DON'T FUCKING YELL AT ME!”
* ˚ ✦
Zach's eyes felt heavy from sobbing. He kept taking short breaths in, beads of tears rolling down his cheeks down onto his homework sheet.
Exercise sheet - Homework
Algebra
Q1. Solve for 𝑥
3(x - 4) + 2 = 2x + 6
A tear falls onto the space after the “=” on the sheet. Fuck…he's too unbothered to even do any work at all. He placed his hand over the sheet on his desk, crumpling the paper in his hand aggressively and throwing it “into” the trashcan across his room. Out of frustration, he kicked the messy and dirty clothes across his room, throwing them to the wall. He didn't want to attract too much attention though, so he stopped after what seemed like enough of a temper tantrum.
His legs shifted across the piles of unfinished homework, clothes and dust across his room - the bruises under his hood throbbed loudly as if he could hear it in his head - as he sat down at his computer to play Roblox.
A break from reality.
“Hello, itz_skeetplayz!”
Friends :
xxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxxxxx
m4tt_wazhere
xxxxxxxxxx
His eye caught onto “m4tt_wazhere”. That was his best friend's user. Matt wasn't in school today, unusual. He's much of a people pleaser and a teacher's pet.
Chat with m4tt_wazhere
m4tt_wazhere:
cant wait 4 ur birthday party dewd!
itz_skeetplayz:
me too man.
1 day ago
itz_skeetplayz:
hey dud, wanna play zsumthin?
Sent just now
A wave of uneasiness filled Zach to the brim. He felt off…Matt was usually online today.
…
No…
Fuck.
How could he forget?...
Yesterday …
Matt…
✧˚ · .
“Hi, Zach! What's up?”
“Nothing much.”
“...Is there no one here? Jeez…I'm sorry dude.”
…
“Uhm - Anyway, I brought you a present!”
“Cool, follow me.”
“Oh- are we going to your room? Cool!”
“Mhm. The thing I um…mentioned.”
“The thing you told me over text? Boy, I'm so excited!!! I can't wait! But it.. is your birthday, so why are you showing me thi- OW!”
“ZACH- STOP! YOU'RE HURTING ME!”
“WHY AREN'T YOU SAYING ANYTHING?”
“ZACH PLEASE! WHAT- OW! WHAT DID I DO!”
“I'm sorry…”
“I can't…I can't move…Where am I….Zach…? Why…why are we at the river? Zach…”
“I'm…I'm so tired…Zach, what are you doing…”
“You one lucky bitch…”
“ZACH I CAN’T- I CAN'T SWIM- PLEASE! STOP! ZACH- COME BACK! STOP! STOP IT!!!”
“ZACH, COME BACK!”
✧˚ · .
Those words echoed in his mind endlessly. The flashback sent him spiraling. He could feel himself staring at his screen, his chest getting tighter and his throat closing up. He felt like he couldn't breathe.
“I can't…I can't breathe…”
The guilt hit him like a truck, choking him until he couldn't let air out of his grinding teeth anymore. He lowered his head, holding his forehead cupped into his palms. His breaths got heavier, faster, and desperate. His chest tightened into a knot, and his stomach churned with self-reproach. His actions were disgusting. Gruesome, unforgiving. All influenced by envy.
Jealousy.
“God damnit, Zach, turn off that damned computer! Its fucking up the power, I need to watch the fucking game!”
Zach flinched up, his hands shaking as he snatched them off his head. He snapped out of his moment after his father shouted at him, as he tried to gain composure to respond.
“Sorry, Dad! I'll turn it off now and go to bed!”
His voice quivered, he was on the verge of tears. He let out a big exhale, as his hand slipped off the power button after pressing, still shaking. The computer buffered, and turned black. Zach sat for a moment, staring at his reflection on the black screen of his computer.
I'm fucking pathetic.
Zach got up, and not even a step, a tumble onto his bed. His face hit his pillow, as his body finally rested. His muscles relaxed, and his chest finally felt loose.
The guilt of what he did, it stabbed him like ten thousand knives in his back. It will forever haunt him.
Matt…
He thought. He thought if he called his name enough in his head, a miracle would bring Matt back.
Matt……
A hoax, a big lie, is what he thought this was. A dream.
This isn't real…Matt's alive.
He lied to himself in his head. And
he knew it wasn't true.
He knew.
And he cried.
* ˚ ✦
Envy is a demon haunting us all.
One of the seven deadly sins, it could kill us or someone we love.
Envy makes you a different person when you act on actions you thought you'd never do.
The devil leads you into temptation.
—
Chapter 2: reminiscing
Summary:
Zach remembers what hes done, and reminisces about someone he once loved. He can't get over him anymore.
✧˚ · .
"im scared of everything"
"im scared of my dad"
"im scared of"
"hurting other people"
Notes:
chapter 2 is out! hhh.. i had some issues inbetween writing this, i was supposed to post this yesterday ... sorry for the delay! thanks for waiting... enjoyy!!! hehe
edit: please be wary of the new tags in this chapter thanks (vomit, throwing up)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Zach laid still like a stalactite on his messed up bed. He barely had a wink of sleep last night, his thoughts were too loud in his head, the nightmares shook him awake. The memories of that day made his skin crawl, like a million spiders moving all around his body. He hated it. Every bit.
His body ached, his legs cramping, and his back stabbing in a million different places. His stomach grumbled with hunger, he hasn't eaten properly in nearly 2 days. Anything edible at this point would be considered luxury for a kid like him.
…His dad didn't call him today.
Huh. Weird.
Zach got up, as the weight of his own body caused him to nearly topple over onto the floor. His aching legs couldn't withstand his own body anymore. He grit his teeth, as he messily fixed up his bed. He glanced at the time, 7:30. Not too bad. His school closes the gates at 8:10 so he still has enough time.
He yawned, his mouth agape with an exhausted note in his face. He let a loud breath out, and he sniffed in.
Ew.
His breath smelled like a dumpster. Fuck, his dad didn't buy new toothpaste…Heck - not even a new toothbrush. His current one looks like a palm tree.
Matt would hate to see him like this.
Matt always used to let him come over to his house and freshen up before school. He had like, 10 extra toothbrushes and 5 different types of toothpaste. Zach always felt bad, since he felt Matt would think it's gross, but Matt insisted. He'd always feel better before going to school if he went to Matt's house before. Maybe…he can go there today?
…Right. How the fuck do I keep forgetting…
Nevermind…
His stomach rumbles like a volcano, ready to erupt. He could feel his insides rearranging itself, he was so hungry.
Matt never let him go hungry.
It's your fault.
…What?
It's your fault, Zach.
What are you talking about…?
A voice spoke to him in his head. A deep, unforgiving voice.
It's your fault you're turning out like this.
Matt cared more about you than your own mother did.
Matt cared about you more than your own father did.
Matt cared.
Matt took care of you.
And you ruined it.
You ruined everything, Zach.
His whole world started to spin in a million different places. He stood there, listening to the voice, listening to himself. He could feel something creeping up his throat. The reminiscing about Matt and his fatigue made him feel dizzy.
Fuck-
Zach ran to the bathroom, as he held his mouth with his hand. The sick taste of acid filled in his mouth. He kneeled above the toilet bowl, and held the sides, and he puked. It felt horrible. Absolutely horrible. Chucking out the rest of his insides out.
After what seemed like enough hurling, he turned upwards, looking to the flickering light in the bathroom. The uncomfortable feeling of the burning sensation of stomach acid stung the back of his throat. He could taste his insides on his tastebuds, making him feel even more nauseous. His stomach started to calm down, as he looked down at the toilet bowl. A stench that slaughtered his nose. It was all yellow. He emptied out all of the bile in his stomach.
I'm going to be late for school…
It's best to just deal with it.
Zach went up to the sink, flushing the toilet, and washed his face. Paler than ever. He looked like a ghost. It was normal, wasn't it?
* ˚ ✦
Zach hoped that if he looked in the fridge enough food would magically appear, but that's a fairy tale everyone knew wasn't true. He sighed, but not too loudly, his father was asleep on the couch. Well, not asleep, unconscious. He already drank half a case of beer in a few hours. Jesus…
Matt's gonna give me some of his lunch anyway- oh.
The thought of Matt made him nauseous again.
Fuck, Zach you dumbass.
Stop fucking thinking about him.
Ugh…
The bus beeped outside his house as he flinched, turning to his father in a panic. He could see his dad was waking from the beep, so he grabbed his things, and half put his shoes on, and out the door he went.
Close call.
Zach stepped onto the bus in a panic, as he stared at the two empty seats in the back once again. He always used to sit there with…
Stop.
Whatever. XXXX slipped his mind, as he squished through the packed seats to the window seat once again. The popular girls made an “eww” sound while giggling, staring at his hoodie. This was the hoodie he wore every day, what could possibly be an issue now? He looked down at his chest, to notice a stain.
God, how didn't I see that.
A stain from earlier. He took his backpack and planted it on his legs in front of his chest, hiding himself from the shame of what happened that morning. God, he hopes he could clean it off before the first lesson.
✧˚ · .
The bell ring gave him a headache, as the kids got their backpacks to go to lunch. He had his head down on the desk, too lazy to get up, as he fantasized about him and…someone.
“Zach, get up, it's time for lunch.”
…
“Zach?”
The teacher called out to him, as he slowly lifted his head. His face was red on the cheeks but pale everywhere else. His lips were a white-pink color and his hair looked messier than ever.
“I'm going now, Miss. Sorry.”
Zach got up, taking his backpack over one of his shoulders and shifting off and out of his desk. He was approaching the door, until the teacher held him by his shoulder.
“Zach, can I talk to you? It's nothing too serious, but just for a minute.”
Fuck. This is about my homework, isn't it…
“Zach, I've been noticing you sleeping in class more often and your grades suddenly dropping ever since Sunday.”
The mention of his birthday party date threw him off, but he tried to forget about it.
“Has any issues been going on at home? Or with friends?”
He looked down at that last part. Why was she showing concern for him? He's pathetic. He's a monster.
It was your fault.
The voice taunted him again. He then hesitantly replied.
“Everything's okay, Miss Victoria. I…uh…”
He tried to come up with an excuse.
“It's nothing, my mind has gotten a bit foggy recently, I'll get my grades up in no time.”
He reassured, looking as truthful as he could. If he opened up more, something worse could've happened. He didn't want his father being mad at him.
“I've noticed your friend XXXX hasn't been in sch-”
“He's fine.”
He snapped harshly, but as he realized his rude tone he quickly apologized with honesty.
“I- I'm sorry Miss. I don't want to talk about him. I'm sorry for saying that.”
“Hey, Zach, no worries. Maybe you had an argument with him, I won't ask you to go into detail. Now, run off to lunch.”
“...Okay. Thank you.”
Zach sped off to lunch, a bit distressed. He was… confused. Someone showing him genuine concern was unusual. Unless it was…M…Miss Victoria. She cared about him most of the school year. She's a really sweet woman, Miss Victoria is his favourite teacher, even though he only sees her once a week.
He made it to the cafeteria, as he watched all the kids packed in there and eating their hot food from the cafe or their lunch from their bags. Zach had nothing. He trotted outside, sitting on a far away bench, laying back. He took a deep breath in, and out.
…
I can't just keep ignoring it anymore.
I miss you, Matt.
Suddenly, a ball hit his head hard. His head stayed down for a while, then looking back up at the laughing jocks pointing and making fun of him.
He wanted to cry, cry in front of everyone. He wanted to disappear, but he kept his composure. Showing his vulnerability would make them bully him more, so he seemed unphased and threw the ball back to them.
“What're you doing kid? No friends? Hah, no wonder! Look at how ugly he is.”
“He smells so bad! He probably never takes a shower.”
“Ewww, what's with the dirty clothes? He looks like he just came out of a sewer!”
The boys laughed at him and made fun of him, Zach looked away. He clenched his jaw as the lump in his throat got bigger. He wanted to cry so bad. Two more lessons and he can finally go home. He took his earbuds, connected them to his crappy iPod, and played music in his ears that could break his eardrums until lunch was over.
* ˚ ✦
“Zach, what do you have for lunch? Let me see what I have…uhhh…PB & J sandwich… a few strawberries…and some lunchables! Nice.”
“Uhm…I… I don't have anything.”
“What?! Did your dad not pack you anything? Dude, have my sandwich.”
“N-no it's okay. I um…had a big breakfast.”
“Dude I don't care! You can have this, and if you don't like PB & J, have the lunchables!”
“Matt, it's really-”
“Nuh-uh, you aren't eating air for lunch! Have the sandwich dude.”
“Uhm…are…are you sure?”
“Duh, dude. I'm one bajillion-zillion percent sure.”
“... Thank you, Matt.”
“No problem! We can share my strawberries too. Aww my mom put a note in too! Look look, she put some heart stickers as well on the paper!”
“Cool…”
✧˚ · .
The bus ride back was a wreck. A kid started throwing his unfinished lunch around the bus like a maniac, and the unthawed sandwich he had fell right on Zach's shoe. He could feel himself getting sick just from looking at it, and the sharp turns from the bus weren't helping either. Zach could feel his stomach bubbling over the loud chatting in the bus, but before he could be sick, they arrived at his block. He sprinted out of the bus, yet some kids tried to trip him over (like they always do).
He took a deep breath in, the smell of the grass settled his nauseousness. He walked into the house, his dad watching the game again.
“Hi, dad.”
His father didn't respond. ‘Guess he's just too focused on the game…Zach placed his backpack half-on the coat hanger next to the front door, which was so close to falling apart like a Lego set. Zach slid his hand against the handle bar of the steps as he went to his room, stepping on specific places of each step so they wouldn't creak and irritate his father.
Zach laid face-up on his bed. A few minutes of rest after today, and then some gaming. He loved Roblox, it's his favourite video game. You can play with other people online, build new games, and make friends. He used to play it a lot with-... Nevermind.
His mind endlessly spoke, about little to big things, as the time passed. He checked his clock after snapping out of his mindstorm. 8:37. Fuck, he has to go to bed at 9. He hopped onto his computer, logging into Roblox as quickly as he could.
✧˚ · .
He was playing Natural Disasters with a bunch of randos, as well as his friend sun_shiners08, everyone screaming in the chat as if the disaster was in real life.
xxxxxxxxxx: LUL X_X
xxxxxxxxxx: AAAHHH NOOO THE TSUNAMI IS TAKING ME AWAYYYHH!!!!!!!!!!111!!
xxxxxxxxxx: lol i pushed them off the building :^)
xxxxxxxxxx: HEY WHAT THE HELL!!! :/
Zach was having fun, and he kept jumping around and spinning in-game.
itz_skeetplayz: OOOFF U JUZT GOT PWNED UR ZO BAD
sun_shiners08: dude! the tornado took me -_-
itz_skeetplayz: ur zo bad at thiz game dudez >:]
itz_skeetplayz: dunno y i even invited u to play if ue juzt gonna die each round… lol
sun_shiners08: :'(
Zach made fun of his friend, doing it in a playful way. He didn't really notice how rude he was being. Then, he could hear faint footsteps coming upstairs. He shivered.
itz_skeetplayz: i gotta go
itz_skeetplayz: zomething came up
sun_shiners08: oh, alright dude! cya :-P
Zach practically smashed the power off button on his computer as he looked at the entrance to his room in terror. He could spot his fathers silhouette creeping through the light under the door.
His father creaked the door open, an endless pool of rage on his face.
“You're supposed to be asleep, Zach. What the FUCK are you doing.”
“Dad, I'm sorry…Please… I wasn't keeping check of the time, I'll go to bed now–”
“I DONT GIVE A SHIT, ZACH.”
His dad held a dirty wooden stick in his hand, gripping it tightly as he approached him. Zach stared at it as he already started to weep, terrified. Absolutely terrified.
“Dad, p-please… I'll…I'll go to bed now…Don't hit me.”
Silence. Anger.
“Please…Don't hurt me…No…No-nono get away from me- DAD! GET AWAY FROM ME!”
Echoes of pained screams shook the house, each thrash of the wooden stick hard enough to break bones. Was this his punishment?
It's your punishment.
You deserve this, Zach.
For killing me.
* ˚ ✦
Zach woke up in a foggy, white plain, with grey grass. The sun was black, and a single tree sitting far away was a darker grey than the grass. He looked around the strange world, the thick fog felt peaceful, in a way. Although, his body ached. His arms felt like they were being squeezed with tight hands, and his back and ribs cracking with each second, but he wasn't injured. Just…a fake pain in his head.
“Zach.”
A voice made him jump, a familiar one. Zach held his hands to his chest - then down to his arms, rubbing them. A shivery breath in and out, as he shook. A breeze of frost had showered onto him, as if the voice's breath from their words blew onto the plain. The world tinted a faint blue, as the wind weaved through the grass, making a soft whistling noise.
“...Hello?”
“Who are you?”
“Where am I?”
Zach inquired, as he had lifted his hands to his mouth, blowing into them and rubbing them together. He looked down to the grass, as it already started to frost.
“Zach…Oh, Zach.”
The voice called out to him, a hint of shame, yet pity in their voice. With each word, he felt like he was going to freeze. The field then started to shift into a darker, dimmer tint. The tree seemed bluer than everything else, more saturated. Zach thought, why was it blue?
“Come to me.”
Zach lifted an eyebrow, as his breath became more shaky. He held himself so tight together, rubbing his arms as if he was going to fall apart from frostbite. He stared at the tree, feeling as if it was calling out to him. He stepped, as his legs already started to ache.
“To the tree?”
“Yes, come to me.”
Zach shifted to the tree, his pace slowing with each step. Clouds above formed into a thick blanket over this world, as flaky and bright snowflakes fell in slow-motion.
“Who…Who are you?”
“...You should've guessed already.”
“I'm not the best at guessing games.”
“I know…”
“Then?”
“Do you know how I know?”
“...No? Do you read minds? Or…What even are you?”
“Something you love. A craving, is better for a suitable label.”
“I don't get it…are you a person?”
“Not anymore.”
Zach felt a wave of pity and sympathy for…whatever this thing was. He reached the tree, as he placed his hand gently onto it. The tree was thawed from the frost, lukewarm, as if it was a bright oak tree in summer. He felt comfort in it, a sort of happiness.
“Is this you?”
“For now, yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“You'll understand a later date, Zach.”
“I have a question…”
“Ask away, you have time.”
Zach felt unease at that statement, as if he didn't have enough time here. Nonetheless, he queried anyway.
“What's your name?”
“...”
“Hello? Are you still there?”
“I fear that is an answer you'd not prefer.”
“Dude, it's just a name. How bad could it be? What, is it Mr. McPoop or something? For something like you, I wouldn't guess that.”
“You're so amusing, just like you always used to be.”
“...Huh?”
“I don't wish to tell you my name now. How about, for now, you give me a name.”
“Oh sick! Uhh… give me a moment.”
Zach thought. He didn't have any ideas yet. He brainstormed as he sat underneath the tree, breathing in its fresh oxygen from the
cold world in front of him. Maybe he could name him something like…No…No, not possibly. Definitely not.
“It seems you don't have much time left, Zach. You'll wake up soon.”
“Huh?”
“I hope you come back again soon.”
✧˚ · .
In some religions which believe in spirits and ghosts, the dead could enter into your head, or your dreams, and talk to you via dreaming.
✧˚ · .
"Sometimes, I am harsh on him. I don't mean to be."
"I tell him it was his fault, I hurt him, and I regret it most of the time."
"But I've grown a hatred."
"One that wont go away."
"I want it to go away."
"I want
to come
back."
Notes:
alot of the end part wasn't planned out, but, i think it turned out well... thanks for reading!!!!
Chapter 3: those memories
Summary:
How the memories in his head plays like a broken record kills Zach, the guilt eating him alive like a wild animal. It's all a hoax, Matt isn't with him anymore. His brain keeps tricking him.
✧˚ · .
"ill bring him down to my level"
Notes:
chapter 3 is out!!!! heh!!! finally decided on the total chapters, im excited! i want to make the chapters represent a full week after matts "dissapearance" (death. obviously..) which i like the concept of!!! anyway, enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Zach stared at his ceiling in confusion. That dream he had last night felt…comforting. He always used to forget what he dreamt about or had a terrifying nightmare, but this time…he liked dreaming. The ends of his lips tilted upwards into a small smile, a genuine one in a long time.
“Get down here, boy, now!”
Which didn't last for long. Zach yawned, trying to gain composure to move his body an inch. His legs were swelling and the soreness in his back and arms could kill someone.
He just had to deal with it, as he slowly lifted himself off his bed and barely made it to the doorway. He turned, facing the door to his mothers room, then to the bathroom. Zach stepped along to the bathroom, shifting his hands around the sink bowl. He stared at himself in the mirror, noticing his eyebags and…his black eye. How was he going to cover that up? Zach thought, and something came up in his head.
He paced to his mothers room, as he slowed down entering through the door. The nostalgic, yet sweet smell of his mothers perfume still lingered quietly in her room. Her bed was neatly made, the sheets a deep blue and accents of gold flowers. She didn't have blinds, but curtains with hand-sewn patterns on them. Zach used to help her with that exact curtain when she used to teach him sewing and stitching. He could still see the small, wonky rose he sewed right on the edge of the semi-expensive silk.
Snapping out of his mind, he advanced to her vanity table. He rummaged through the drawers, mascara, primer, blush, he kept finding everything but what he wanted. Then, the drawer with foundation.
“The bus isn't going to wait all day. What are you even doing up there? Hurry up!”
Zach exhaled with pressure, as he just grabbed a random bottle of foundation and got to work.
✧˚ · .
His face looked like he had vitiligo, as the foundation was obviously not a perfect match. His mothers skin was lighter than his, so the foundation he used was way lighter than his own skin color. His dad didn't bother, not even saying a “goodbye” or even looking at him before going to school.
“Bye, dad. I'll see you later.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
His father waved his hand as he was engulfed into the light of the TV screen.
“‘Love you.”
No response.
Zach sighed, exiting through the front door and onto the school bus. He crammed his way into the backseats, as the popular girls gasped and cackled at his face.
“Ewww, boys don't wear makeup!”
“The blending is so cakey…did he even try?”
“L-O-L girls, look! He tried putting makeup on!”
“What a loser! He wanted to make himself look better because he looks horrendous!”
The girls in the middle rows bursted with laughter and giggles, as Zach scrunched his face up with anger. He wanted to shout back, call them pigs.
“You can't say anything, you literally look like a pig with lipstick on!”
Or, something like,
"At least I tried, you guys look like a toddler drew on your faces!”
He wanted to scream. To fight back is a craving he needed to accomplish. He wanted to scream, to argue, and hurt them. Punch, slap, fight.
Kill them.
Kill them.
Kill them.
Fuck, I need to calm down.
Zach took a deep breath in, and exhaled out through his nose. Those thoughts were impulsive, and he didn't really want to kill anyone. He never did, he never saw himself as an aggressive person. He shook his head lightly, as he plotted himself on the old, dirty seats of the school bus. Like usual, the jocks made comments on him like they always did. The really uncreative, top-off-my-head comments. They irritated him, but he learnt to slowly tune them out. He always used to have someone next to him to tune it out for him, but he doesn't want to remember who.
✧˚ · .
Zach forced himself to participate in Physical Education, one of his least favourite classes. If he had skipped one more class, he would be expelled, meaning more time with his dad.
Him and about twenty other boys entered the boys changing locker rooms, as he started to get a knot in his stomach. What happened last night obviously left some harsh marks on him, and he - for the love of God - really, really didn't want anyone to see them. If anyone even acknowledged the marks, it would spread all around the school like wildfire, and the thought of it sent his heart racing. He couldn't go into the handy changing showers, because they were on maintenance because some kid ripped the tiles off the walls. Nervously, he shrunk into the darkest corner of the changing rooms, hoping no one would see those gnarly bruises on his tender skin.
He hesitantly pulled the bag with spare, oversized sport clothes, as he swallowed the thick lump in his throat, slowly folding his hoodie off his body, then with a stained white t-shirt underneath. He hung his hoodie in his locker, as his chest pounded.
Just the shirt, and quickly put the other one on. Yeah, they won't see, it's perfect!
He thought to himself, starting to feed into confidence. He glanced around nervously, then he practically ripped his t-shirt off - accidentally hitting some of the bruises on his back - and slapped the oversized sport shirt on. The sleeves barely went over his hands, and it wasn't just dirty, it felt dirty. Did they even wash these after they were taken from lost-and-found?
Suddenly, he heard judgemental comments from the other side of the room. A gasp here, a giggle there. Zach, already expecting the unwanted, turned to look behind him to where the sudden chatter was coming from. They were staring right at him.
They saw, Zach.
They saw them.
Those scars, the ones trailing down your arms.
The bruises, plotted on your back.
They saw.
Zach looked humiliated. He turned his back to them, knowing that this exact moment will be spread as a rumor all throughout school for the next week or so. Embarrassed, he doubtfully tried to finish changing, until he heard something that struck a nerve.
“He's such a freak, no wonder his parents don't love him.”
What the fuck?
Zach processed what he heard in his brain for a minute, until he turned his head with rage. He sent a death stare to those entitled kids, and they looked right back at him. The boy who said it wasn't very fit, but wasn't too scrawny either. He had soft, clean blonde hair with a blue streak through the front. He looked like one of those popular kids, the ones who thought they ruled school. Even he knew that was too far, just to get on his nerves.
Zach, still half-changed, angrily approached the boy as he noticed, looking at him with the very slightest hint of fear. He stood in front of him for a second, as his hands already clenched together.
“Say that again?”
He asked, as he showed a smile on his face that spoke of disdain.
“...What?”
“I asked you to say that again if you want to talk about me behind my back.”
The boy looked with confusion, then shifted to a shit-eating grin.
“I said you're a freak. That's probably why your parents hate you.”
He laughed, a wicked laugh.
Do it.
Kill him.
Zach wound his arm back and struck the boy on the face so hard a tooth could come out. He didn't wait for a response, right after that he started to grab him by his tight collar and kept whacking him in the face with his tight fist.
“Hey- what the hell man? Stop that, back off!”
His friends pleaded and shouted, but the surge of adrenaline was firm and in place. He didn't care about anything else, other than getting his sweet revenge. There was blood by now, as he could already hear the teacher shout from behind him.
Kill him.
You deserve that revenge, Zach.
Zach paused, and reached into his pocket. He grabbed a half-sharpened, brown-stained pencil. He gripped it hard as he swung it above his head, aiming for the kid's eye.
“Both of you, break it up! Now!”
The gym teacher grabbed Zach away before he could do any worse damage than he already did. The boy's friends were giving him both angry yet feared looks, going to help the entitled brat who was barely even able to get up. The sweat from his face made the foundation on his black eye melt off, as some of the boys noticed and looked confused. Zach was the only one punching, the other one was too startled to even push him off.
I guess I can frame him for hitting me too. Good timing.
Zach exhaled loudly - the temper still brewing on his face - looking at the bloodied kid in front of him as he got taken away by the gym teacher to the office.
✧˚ · .
Zach was sent home early, which was both a good and bad thing for him. They had phoned his father to come and pick him up, which…probably wasn't a good idea, but they insisted it was for “safety” reasons.
Bullshit. They don't care at all about our safety one bit.
Zach could hear two loud beeps come from outside the school gates, as his mind recognized it.
“Must be your dad, Zach. See you tomorrow, don't cause more trouble.”
“Got it…”
He let out a long, exhausted breath, as he left out to the gate through the back office. He could see his father through the slightly tinted windows through the car doors, with visible exasperation.
Suddenly, he could see a figure standing behind the car.
…What the hell is that?
That didn't seem like someone just behind the car. They were unusually blended into the air, like the fog took shape. It was blue, with straight, what seemed like wet pouring hair. Zach clutched the sleeves of his backpack, as he shut his eyes tightly, and opened them again to see the figure gone.
…The fuck…?
He brushed it off his mind, as he hesitantly pulled the car door open into the back seat. He set his backpack down in front of him , preparing for a long, loud lecture on the way back home.
✧˚ · .
Again, those burning sensations on his body from the bruises. The beatings, they stung, yet it was numb. His body could feel those bruises throbbing, aching, paining, screaming, yet it adapted to make it muffled. It was only a thought in the back of his head now.
His eyes felt heavy, puffy, swollen. He could feel tears still tumbling down his cheeks, yet he wasn't feeling anything but the desensitized pulsing of the bruises.
If only he could talk to Matt. Matt would comfort him, so sweet it could cause cavities. His words alone through a screen could brighten up that rotting little heart of his, only for the passing moment. A rotten fruit isn't salvageable.
Matt was short, had clean, silky hair. He loved the color blue and wore any kind of blue clothing or accessory every day. Even in bed, he had 3 blue plushes of a bunny, and two cats. Matt always loved to draw, his drawings were so impressive to Zach. He was able to draw the most beautiful looking portraits, of himself, his family, of Zach. He always used to look uninterested when he finished a piece that Matt gave to him, but he has every single one he received pinned upon his dirty, stained walls. Every time one fell down, he prayed it didn't rip, or get dirty. He cherished the gifts Matt gave him to keep.
Matt always comforted Zach in hard times, after a beating, or after an issue in school. The way his hands stroked across his palms when he was speaking killed him. A single 14 year old boy could simultaneously ground him immediately in serious moments. The way Matt had combed his hands through his hair, the way he plucked the sleep crust off of his eyes, the way he held his cheek when he cried. The way Matt smiled when he smiled too.
Matt cared for him like no one else. He cared more than his own mother, he cared so much that he'd beat the average of mothers, in Zach's mind. Matt loved him. Zach would be willing to die to spend another moment with Matt.
Yet…the ever growing envy blew up inside of him. Matt had a loving, caring family, and he always got everything he wanted. Kisses before school, “I love you!”s before his parents went out, outfits for Halloween, presents at Christmas, parties at New Years. Zach wanted it, wanted him. He couldn't bear to watch someone else get a better life than he ever did. On his birthday, too.
Zach received a present from Matt that day. If only Matt knew it was useless. Zach had a plan, a vicious, twisted plan, one he wanted to forget about after done. A single pencil, and the lake.
Zach led Matt into his room, as he sabotaged him and stabbed him right in the back. His arms were all punctured, hoping to hit a vein. His neck was bruised, a rough hand passed through generations. A breath in, a breath out, and a black out.
Just moments after waking, his soft blue eyes watching the world collapse in front of him. Into the river he goes, the harsh waves showed no mercy. The water entered through his mouth and his nose, filling up his lungs full like a water balloon. Like a rock, he sank to the bottom, to be washed up like a ripped up rag on the side of an island, somewhere.
Zach yearned for those moments of happiness again. Those sweet, subtle moments that he wanted to last for eons. The soft, mellow words that left Matt's mouth, only to replay in his head like a broken record. It was all his fault for breaking the vow, the promise they once kept.
“I'll never leave you, Zach! Never! You're my favourite person in the whole wide world.”
“...Promise?”
“Promise, Zach. Pinky promise.”
The pinkies intertwined, and one of the pinkies ripped off by the tide. That single memory replayed over and over, he could still feel the tight grip of Matt's pinky onto his. That friendship was all for nothing, now. It was all now just a fruitless tree from the drought.
“Zach…”
His eyes shot wide open, being dragged out of his head. A sudden voice, the familiar one he was begging to hear once again. Matt isn't here, or was he?
“Zach, I'm cold…”
He sat on his bed, realizing the blood slowly trickling off his arm, his nails stained with the ichor of his body. The voice, the ever-so recognizable voice, sounded as if it was mingling in-between the hums of the wind intertwining with the trees outside. A pitter-patter beckoned at his window, as it started to rain gently. Zach sat on his bed, the stinging of his wound gave him some kind of relief.
“Please…Can you let me in?”
The voice signaled, as if it was begging to feel warmth that it hasn't felt in weeks. Zach sat aghast, his body scrunched up like a tissue, his muscles tight like his fathers fists. Even the rain that used to comfort him when he weeped was just the noise in the back of his head.
“...Matt?”
He whispered, as if he was calling out to a bat to hear from miles away. Yet, a response never came.
His head spiraled, as he shifted forward and slammed his head onto the pillow of his bed. The burning sensation of the cuts on his arm faded out with the rest of the throbbing of the marks, as he furrowed his eyebrows together again and cried.
* ˚ ✦
“Zach, will you ever betray me?”
“No? ‘Course not, what kinda question is that?”
“Nah- nah just asking! It's stupid, I know…”
“It's not stupid.”
“...Really?”
“Yeah. Perfectly valid question to ask.”
“Thanks man.”
“Well, would you ever betray me?”
“Hell nah! You're my bestest friend in the entire multiverse. I'd never betray you even if I had to give up my Zelda save files.”
“Jeez, that seems too far, no?”
“Totes not! I'd delete them willingly if someon
e told me I had to backstab you to keep ‘em.”
“...That means a lot to me, Matt. Thank you.”
“It's nothing, haha…I'm just hoping you'd do the same for me.”
“Of course.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Pinky promise?”
“Haha, yes, pinky promise.”
* ˚ ✦
Notes:
well...zach sure is a bit obsessed, no?
so what do we think about these hallucinations LOL
aha, anyway, matt is 14 and zach is 15 and a half! soo...their original selves from the webseries is that matt is 12 and zach is 14 but this is an au to some kind of capacity sooo....Anyway! ahah...Lol. OKAY THSNK YOU FOR READING OK..?.OK..ok..
kaykishi on Chapter 1 Mon 25 Aug 2025 02:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
moona_moonielol on Chapter 1 Mon 25 Aug 2025 03:35PM UTC
Comment Actions
xX4ce0fSpadesXx on Chapter 1 Mon 25 Aug 2025 11:55PM UTC
Comment Actions
Pink_Entity on Chapter 1 Wed 27 Aug 2025 02:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
kaykishi on Chapter 2 Thu 28 Aug 2025 04:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
ccatlover on Chapter 3 Mon 08 Sep 2025 06:33AM UTC
Comment Actions