A/N: Woohoo, new story! Again... oops.
Ah well. Hopefully this story will be fun XD
*gives you YouTuber wristbands*
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy ^~^
PS: There will be a lot of swearing, so BE PREPARED~
PPS: I'm going off fan-deptictions of Cry here (ie. hair colour), plus what we do know about him (ie. eye colour) because that's literally all I know XD
About seventeen hours before I left for my new school, I was dreading ever returning to my current one.
I'd just finished another day of endless torture, and I'm not really exaggerating, either. I've worn my mask for nearly six years now, and I'm still teased for it. People asked me why I wore it, and I told them it was because I liked it. Then people started picking on me when I didn't wear it. They called me ugly, that my face was a horrific thing, that the mask made me look better.
I'm ugly, I know that. I've accepted that. That's why I wear the mask, so nobody sees what's underneath. Even I don't like looking at what's underneath.
Then they picked on me for the nickname I'd chosen for myself: Cry. I liked people to know me by that, so then maybe my real name wouldn't get tainted. It was the small ray of brightness in my dark world.
I was physically bullied - shoved into lockers, punched, kicked around, cut, hit with things, and more. You name it, and it probably happened to me. But most of it was just mental torture, and that was so much worse.
They told me that I was useless, of no worth, that I wouldn't go anywhere or do anything. They told me to just go kill myself and stop wasting the world's oxygen.
And I believed every word they said.
So after Friday at that hellhole was over at 3:20 PM, I said goodbye to the few friends I had and then quickly got the fuck out of there and started the ten-minute two-block walk home. I was fed up, like I always was after a whole week of school, but that day was... different, somehow. Normally I managed a snide remark back at those jerks that called me out, but today I just couldn't do it. I wanted to curl up in a hole.
When I got home I just unlocked the door and went straight to my room, throwing my bag down on the floor and taking pleasure in the slam! of stupid textbooks hitting the wooden floor. I glared down at it before walking down the hall to the bathroom.
I slam the door behind me, knowing that nobody would be home to question it. I leant over the sink, staring into the mirror. I didn't see my face, not my real one. I saw my other face: the mask. White with holes cut our for eyes and a simple line drawn for a mouth, just how I liked it.
Inexplicably, I began to tremble, my arms and legs threatening to give out under my weight. But still I stared at myself, and at the mask.
Suddenly I reached up behind me and undid the strings with shaking fingers and tore it off my face, needing to breathe. As much as I liked wearing the mask, as much as I needed to, it was always harder to breathe with it on than when it was not.
Now I was looking at my real face in the mirror, at those stupid naturally tanned skin, those disgusting blue eyes, and those hideous scars on the left side of my face. I hated it, but for some reason I had to look today. But I soon looked down into the white sink basin.
As I still there supported my the sink, still trembling, I was aware of water dropping into the sink. I looked in the mirror again and was surprised to see that I was crying.
Now, you should know that I hate crying. I really hate crying, especially in front of other people. And because of the knowledge that nobody else was home, I finally allowed myself to cry. And soon, I was sobbing. I cried about everything that had been happening to me, and about how the same thing might be happening to someone else. It killed me inside. I'd learned to bottle up my emotions, to train myself that showing emotions was never a good thing, and it had slowly but surely begun to pile up inside of me.
And that day I finally let it out. I quietly sobbed in that bathroom, and I wanted nothing more than to smash the mirror and escape.
But I couldn't, because soon after I heard a car pulling up in the driveway, and I quickly wiped the tears off of my face and put my mask back on, my ever-trembling fingers somehow expertly tying the strings.
I heard the front door open and loud footsteps running down the hallway towards the kitchen. I chuckled quietly. I knew who was home.
I left the bathroom, nearly running into my mother.
"Sorry," I said, laughing.
She laughed, too. "Hello, hon," she greeted, taking my hand and tilting my head down so she could kiss the top of my head. I squeezed her hand in return.
"Hey, mom," I replied. I noticed a bulky item in her hand and I pointed it out. "What's that?"
She smiled and held it up, and I realised that it wasn't one bulky item, it was a bunch of letters bound together with an elastic band. I groaned - how could I have forgotten to grab the mail on my way in...?
She honked me on the head with them. "Silly," she muttered before holding them out to me. I took them and followed her out into the dining room, where she went to the kitchen to get to my little brother, Nate, before he ate everything.
I sat down at the table and began my normal duties of sorting the mail into piles for each person. My dad, being a businessman, usually got the most, and my mother usually got the bills and school-related letters. It was rare that Nate or I ever got something.
But today was one of those rare days.
There was a rather thick letter in the pile. That wasn't the unusual part, as most of our letters were thick with fifty million papers (okay, maybe that was a slight exaggeration), but rather that the envelope was written on by hand:
The One Who Wears the Mask
Which was followed by my address. I frowned. I hadn't ever gotten a letter that was adressed to me, let alone to my nickname.
Mom must have noticed that I had frozen, because she called to me, "What is it, hon?"
I answered honestly. "There's a letter for me. One that's addressed to Cry." Mom would get it, she knows my nickname.
I looked up at her, and she was frowning. She did that wordles motion for me to open it and tell her what it was about.
So I turned the envelope over, and holding the flap down was a golden seal in the shape of the sun. It rang a faint bell in the back of my head, but I couldn't quite remember what it was. So I carefully opened it up, not wanting to ruin the seal, and pulled a piece of paper out and read the neat handwriting.
We are pleased to inform you that you have been invited to attend Summertime School, a getaway school for those in need.
Summertime School! That's what it was! Actually, I didn't know much about the mysterious boarding school, other than the fact that it had a fantastic reputation for helping people who'd lost their way. Nobody other than the students knew where it was, what it looked like or who ran the place. But I was definitely about to find out. I kept reading.
Summertime School offers a fresh start for those who have been struggling with their lives and need a helping hand in which direction to go. The school accepts students of all ages, races, ethnicities, genders, sexualities, personal backgrounds and more!
At Summertime School we send out personal invites to those we believe are in dire need to start anew. And we believe that you, Mr Cry, are one of those people.
If you are able to attend Summertime School, please fill out the enclosed enrollment papers and come to the address at the bottom of this letter as soon as possible. The school staff will gladly take care of the transfer forms for your current school. You will be assigned a room to share with one other person while you are here, although changes can be made if necessary. Please bring only a few bags of your most important items, and a staff member will report to your house to pick up anything else, according to your mother. Any other questions will be answered when you arrive.
If you are unable to attend (whether it be not at the current time or ever) please send a letter to the PO Box address at the bottom of this letter as soon as possible.
Thank you, and we hope to see you among our numbers soon!
I blinked, and all I could think was, What the fuck?
How did they know? I just couldn't figure it out.
"Hon?" Mom asked, startling me. I looked up to see that she was sitting at the table in the chair opposite me.
"It's from the Summertime School," I said, and her eyes widened. I gave her the letter and she quickly read it, and I could see her shoulders slowly rising like they always did when she was worried, stressed or uncomfortable with a situation.
But in the end she nodded and looked up at me. "Hon," she whispered. "I didn't think this would happen to you." I slowly nodded once, before looking down at my hands, clasped together on the table in front of me. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.
Because the last time I told my parents something important, my dad wanted to disown me. I didn't want to cause anything like that again.
"Because I didn't want to worry you," I said lamely. This wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, either.
Mom put her hand on good of mine. "You're my son," she said firmly, "and I love you. As a mother, it's my job to worry about you, so don't say anything like that again, please," she ended practically begging, and I wanted to cry again. So I nodded. She waited patiently.
I took a deep breath and told her everything.
By the time I'd finished, she had a couple of tears rolling down her face. I went silent to show that is finished, and then she came around to my side of the table and hugged me. At first I froze, but quickly relaxed into her warm grip. It didn't last long, though, because she soon pulled away and looked me right in the eye.
"Hon," she began. "Do you want to go to that school? Do you need to get away?"
I nodded before I knew I was nodding. I think I started nodding in the middle of her first sentence. I needed to get away from the awful school I was in now, and the awful people. Of course, I didn't doubt that this Summertime School had its own share of not-so-nice-people, but anything had to be better than here, right?
Mom nodded in time with me. "In that case, you'd better fill out those enrollment forms!" she said, suddenly much happier than thirty seconds before. "And get packing, we leave tomorrow morning!"
"Wait, what?" I asked incredulously. Why was she so eager all of a sudden?
She clapped her hands. "Well, the letter said to get there as soon as possible, but we can't leave now because we have to pack."
I rolled my eyes at my over-enthusiastic mother and got up to get a pen to fill in the papers.
Name, preferred name, gender, age, current school... Slowly I worked my way through the form. I felt, for the first time in forever, happiness rising into my chest, and my heart was happily pounding away.
Before I knee it I'd finished and was folding them back into the envelope, along with the letter.
Things were going to be a lot more interesting from then on.