A Picture of Confusion

[[Okies, here’s another chapter. TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Please. It helps so much when I’m writing. ON WITH THE STORY!]]

[[Oh! and someone mentioned Soren's changing hair color in the chapters >.< .lol. I kinda consider light brown/dirty blonde/blonde to all be the same color. so I hope that kinda clears that up. sorry! ]]


Soren managed to convince Michael to skip the rest of the day, the two heading out to Mike’s beautiful car that Soren didn’t know that Mike recently purchased.

“Oh my god… can I make love to her?” Soren asked, pale brown eyes showing more life from the past five minutes with Mike than they’d shown in months.

“Haha, I haven’t named her yet, but she is quite fantastic.” Mike stated proudly, patting his Titanium Black Chrysler 300 on the hood. “I bought her a few months ago… well, my parents bought her for me, so yeah, she’s my baby.” He said proudly, running his fingers along the shiny metal as he made his way to the driver’s side. “Hop in, lets chill at my house for a bit, maybe we’ll put in a movie or something.”

Soren nodded appreciatively. He never would admit it, but it was really nice to have Mike make the decisions. “Sounds like a plan. Do you still have Heathers? God I love that movie and I haven’t seen it in forever… actually, I think the last time I saw it was at like your fifteenth birthday or something.” He remembered fondly, a laugh in his voice.

“Yeaaaah! Of course I still have it, what kind of person would I be if I got rid of that treasure?” he laughed, looking over at Soren before he started up the engine. “Are you doing alright, Soar? You look horrible.” he switched the mood quickly, he knew this might be his last chance to talk to Soren, the dirty blonde boy never stuck around for long Mike remembered with a slight pain in his heart.

Soren’s happy features quickly turned into glaring eyes and pursed lips. “I’m fine, Mike, you sound like my fucking mom. Just drop it.” It was the same tone he used to speak to his mother that morning, the tone that wouldn’t tolerate anything except abiding by what he’d said.

“Hey, I’m just trying to look out for you, okay?” Mike retorted defensively. “You haven’t been around much and you look like shit. You’re thinner than hell, you have no color on your skin, your hair looks like it’s falling out, and you have the deepest circles under your eyes. Are you even taking care of yourself? Did you even wear a jacket down here? I mean –“
“STOP!” Soren screamed, causing Mike to slam on the breaks. “I DON’T NEED THIS FROM YOU!” he declared, unbuckling his belt and pushing his way out of the car, immediately running back towards the school, away from Mike’s car, tears flowing out of his eyes. “Fuck you, Mike” he whispered once he stopped running, sitting crouched down against some random tree in a place that he didn’t quite recognize. He had no idea how long he sat there for

“You doing okay?” A strange voice asked, causing Soren to look up, his eyes instantaneously forming a glare. What the hell was up with this shitty day?

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Soren said to the pudgy boy from the coffee shop.

“Here, lemme help you up or something, you’re not even wearing a coat.” Harvey offered out his mitten-clad hand for Soren to grab.

“I’m fine.” He said bitterly. “If I didn’t want to be sitting here, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

“Right,… cause we all love sitting in the snow while it’s nineteen degrees out, freezing our asses off with tears frozen to our cheeks. Yeah, it’s pretty much one of my favorite pastimes too.” Harvey responded sarcastically which shocked Soren.

“Well it’s better than anything else I could be doing right now! Don’t judge what I’m doing. It’s none of your fucking business anyways.” He stood up shakily, the palm of his hands against the tree behind him, sliding up as he stood. Soren’s famished body needed the support.

Harvey let out a heavy sigh. “Look, kid, I live right there,” he took a moment to point to Soren’s left to a tall apartment building across the street. “Let me get you like a hot chocolate or something- I mean coffee… you said you don’t like hot chocolate… but yeah, come on, your fingers are purple.” Harvey started to lightly tug at Soren. He couldn’t believe the kid was only wearing jeans and a wife beater, it was fucking freezing out!

“I’m not a kid! Especially not to you.” Soren argued. “How old are you anyways? Like thirteen? Seriously.” He said exasperatedly. His bones were aching horribly now, he needed to get home, he needed to sleep. People were too much for him. He hadn’t been in isolation for long enough he decided, he wasn’t strong enough to be around them yet.

Harvey just cocked an eyebrow “You do know that I’m twenty, right?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Oh.” Well now Soren felt like an idiot. “I’m still not going to go home with you.” He stated through chattering teeth.

“Yeah, I may be shorter than you, but seriously, you’re a freaking twig, I could carry you across the street and into the elevator-no problem. I can guarantee that.”

“Whatever. You’re probably just going to rape me. I’m not going home with you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You look like a balding old man who hasn’t realized he’s old ‘cause he’s still wearing kids clothes. Sorry, not my type. Now come on, it’s fucking cold.” He said, finally taking hold of Soren’s upper arm and leading him to the apartment.

Soren would have continued to protest if he hadn’t been so caught off guard about the age comment. He was seventeen! There was no way he looked like an old man. He was perfecting his body and mind, not diminishing them.

Before he realized it, they were, indeed, standing in an elevator going up nine floors with some random chick who was trying desperately to look Goth but instead just looked like an idiot with far too much makeup on. Soren scowled at her horribly to the point where Harvey must have felt bad for the girl and moved to stand in between the two.

The elevator dinged then opened, Harvey pushed Soren out a bit forcefully and then tugged him down the hall to his apartment. 913.

“I don’t want to be in your apartment.” Soren stated as the door was pushed open by the older one. Harvey just sighed and shoved Soren so he was forced to take a step in, the door closing behind him.

“Right, and you’re the psycho who’d rather die of hypothermia. You can thank me later.”

“No, seriously, I want to go home.” He suddenly, and very desperately, felt the need to cleanse himself of the day’s actions. Maybe an ice bath? That wouldn’t do. He decided he’d have to cut himself when he got home. Four times? Would that be enough to teach himself a lesson? He should do five to be safe. Five long cuts along his inner leg. Then he’d be purged of making the mistake of coming out of isolation. “Please, let me go home…” he pleaded, desperate.

“Um, seriously, I’m not going to kill you or anything. I’m just going to make you a cup of coffee and maybe I’ll force a cookie down you’re emaciated throat or whatever.”

Soren scowled at the back of Harvey’s head. The older one had his back to Soren, pouring water into the coffee maker on the counter. Soren sat himself on a couch that faced the open kitchen. The thought of any baked good, or food in general for that matter, made Soren want to throw up. Especially when being offered by pudgy-Harvey. If he ate that cookie, he’d look just like Harvey. He couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m not hungry.” He stated, hoping to evade being offered the food again. He was stronger than this.

“And once again you sound like a retard. You’re skinnier than shit. Are you manorexic?” Harvey asked, turning around to face Soren, leaning against the counter.

“A what?” Soren asked, looking up at Harvey like he had ten heads and each one was drooling.

“A manorexic… a guy who’s anorexic.” Soren was in awe that there was a specific word for that.

“Err… no. I’m a perfectionist.” He stated proudly after he got over the initial shock of being called a manorexic. What the hell? Harvey was dumb.

“So you are? That’s so weird. How can you do that? I love food.” He said nonchalantly as he brought a warm mug of coffee over to Soren.

“Yeah, I can tell.” Soren said bitterly as he reached out for the cup. He made the mistake of looking up at Harvey and seeing just a bit of embarrassment in his eyes, hidden by a large amount of pain. “Sorry...” Soren said completely unapologetically.

“Yeah, I can tell.” Harvey replied, imitating Soren’s tone.

“Look, I didn’t ask to come here. And it’s not like you were under the impression that I enjoyed your company or something.” He said, and then took a sip of the steaming coffee. It burnt his tongue terribly, but hey, no pain no gain.

“Wait for it to cool.” Harvey commanded, ignoring Soren’s previous comments. As he sat down on the same couch except at the other end.

“How can you afford an apartment from working at that crappy coffee shop?” he asked, paying no mind to what Harvey said and drinking the coffee anyways, his throat searing in pain from the heat. Not that he showed it. He was a master at facades.

“I’m a writer. I don’t want to lock myself up to write because then I wouldn’t have an accurate perspective about the world, which, in the end, is what every writer is trying to portray.”

“Get a life?” Soren suggested in a cruel tone. “Cause I feel like a life portrays… life… better than working at that retarded dump.”

“Aw, but then I wouldn’t get the chance to meet such wonderful and caring people such as yourself. And that would be such a loss to me.” Harvey stated with much distaste causing Soren to roll his eyes. “What’s your name anyways?” Harvey asked, suddenly realizing he didn’t know.

“Soren.” He stated blandly.

“Soren What?” Harvey replied in the same tone. Two could play this game.

“Archer.” He finished off his coffee, setting it back down on the coffee table. “I want to go home.”

Harvey let out a heavy sigh. “Sleep first.”

[[I know it’s a random place to end it, but I have to give myself some time to think about how I’m going to direct the story from here to where I want it to end. Okies. Please review! ]]