| 2 | Famous Last Words Because I'm Fucking Rebellious

***

Maybe it was just the adrenaline of the moment, or maybe it was just one too many cigarettes.

"You do not use that language here!" Mother had scolded. "On top of that, Seto, are you smoking!"

"I'll use whatever fucking language I want, as long as you don't give two shits about me, I won't give two shits about you! You've never gave a shit about my life, so I won't tell you any of it!" I had shouted back, scrunching my nose as I bolted upstairs and towards my room. I slammed the door shut behind me. I heard a picture frame that was hung in the hallway collapse onto the floor, making an irritable crack sound. I quickly locked the door; I need to think rationally and fast.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I gazed around my room that was plastered with posters of My Chemical Romance, Bring Me The Horizon, Set It Off, Twenty One Pilots, Green Day, Three Days Grace—god never mind, there's just too many to name. I quickly emptied out my backpack, tossed my textbooks aside, and went to grab my things. Might as well start anew, I wanted to get out of this hellhole as well. My father would hang me if he found out of any of this.

"Seto, open up this door!" Mother's voice was sickening, I despised the thought of her trying to convince me to not follow through with it otherwise. It was happening—life was actually happening for once.

Fuck.

I scrambled across my room, opening every drawer in sight and gathering up some clothing that I would wear continuously for as long as I would be gone. I quickly changed into a gray pull-over hoodie, some black jeans, and I kept my converse shoes on. I grabbed my wallet, portable phone charger, a couple of books, multiple lighters, and the rest of the cigarette boxes I've been hiding from my parents and shoved them quickly into my backpack. The banging on the door increased, then turned into kicking and forcibly prying. I zipped up my backpack, sprinted towards the window and attempted to pry it open. God, Isaac was right, I shouldn't have skipped lunch today.

After a couple of stressful seconds, I managed to forcefully open the window. The banging on the door became so loud it sounded like a marching band ready to run me over—the pace of the drums were going at the same pace of my heart, fast and impatient. I quickly hoped out, fearing for my life as I began to make my get away by sliding down the side of one roofs of the house. God, why did I choose my room to be on the second floor?

I managed to reach the end of the roof, it was a long drop. I could probably jump on top of my car, then run by foot to Isaac's house. I nodded to myself, bracing the impact as I jumped on top of my black car, causing a loud alarm to be set off. I gulped, time was running out. Mother could have surely heard the alarm going off. I hopped down from my car's roof and ran past the porch, mindlessly stomped on the fallen flamingo ornament as I was messily creating my getaway, breaking it, and finally reached the exit gates. I managed to squeeze through the golden bars, due to my skinny frame, and I was already out of there.

I managed to run out of the area and out of the "neighborhood" (which really just consisted of a bunch of mansions that were terribly separated by a mass of trees and walls). I didn't know what street I was on, nor did I care, I was out of sight of the mansion and away from my mother. Did she really not take my feeling into account when she was arranging that marriage? What a killjoy.

I huffed, catching my breath as I strolled down the sidewalk. I reached towards my bag and barely managed to unzip it. I wasn't very flexible, so I just gave up and put my backpack on the sidewalk. Reaching in, I grabbed my phone, a cigarette, and one of my lighters. I lit the cigarette and stuck it in my mouth, then dialed Isaac's number. I zipped up my bag and swung it over my shoulder. I gave an exasperated sigh as I listened to the dulling sound of the ring. Eventually, Isaac picked up the phone.

"Hey Seto what's up—"

"Isaac, come pick me up." I muttered, gritting my teeth together, "I got into another argument with my mother, you know the drill."

"What street are you on?" Isaac sighed. It sounded like he was getting out of bed and going to get his car keys. I squinted, trying to find a street sign.

"Er...Maplewood Avenue apparently." I replied.

"I'll be there in a couple minutes." Just like that, the line went silent. I shook my head, sitting down on the edge of the sidewalk and continuing to smoke a cigarette. I fiddled with my gray sleeve—once dressed in pastel colors and now back into the dark color scheme.

I watched a couple cars go by, I counted them too. The street wasn't densely populated, it was just the last road you'd think go on when going somewhere. Some of the cars had their windows rolled down, I heard some of their prissy pop-music and saw some of the drivers' faces. Most of them were black haired, some had red or white colored hair, but there was one blond with the brightest of blue eyes I've ever seen—strange, but I'm not the one to judge. Well, most of the time.

Eventually, Isaac's gray honda car came rolling up besides me. I stretched, standing up and walking around to get into the passengers seat. Sitting shotgun was always the best. I tossed the cigarette away and opened the door, Isaac was in a white tank top with star pajamas. I briefly chuckled, sitting down and shutting the door, lightly, behind me. Buckling my seat belt, I made eye contact with him.

"You reek of cigars." He muttered in his usual British accent.

"And you need the fashion police." I retorted, breaking out into laughter.

"I was relaxing when you were calling me, alright!" He shouted, beginning to drive once more.

"I think you got a little too comfortable," I smiled. Isaac just rolled his eyes.

We stopped at a red light for a brief moment, passing by the Atlas Plaza that was full of smiling faces and people. I turned my head from the window, frowning. Isaac broke the silence between us, "Mind telling me what you argued about with your parents?"

"It's complete bullshit," I began, wiping my eyes with my sleeve, "I asked about the moving thing and they already bought the house and everything. What's worse is that they already arranged the marriage too, I didn't get to do anything nor did I know. When my eighteenth birthday comes, I'm getting shipped away to another country to expand our company's productions and such."

Isaac stopped at another red light. We were past the plaza now and in front of multiple streets that led into multiple neighborhoods. Isaac's house was nearby, I remember him saying his house was on Stellar Street. I could tell that Isaac had nothing to say, possibly he was just—surprised or angry, or possibly those same mixed emotions that I was feeling. I shifted my eyes to my shaking hands that were awkwardly positioned on my lap, still pale and bruised from trying to open the window.

I remember my mother's voice, it made me tremble. I didn't want to go back, I could tell Isaac didn't want me to go back, either. She didn't look angry—up until I cursed anyway. She had looked calm and collected. I don't know how a woman like her could get married to a shitty business man—oh wait, the arranged marriage. I scrunched my nose at the thought of getting married to some shitty woman on my eighteenth birthday (that was in a month or so.) I bet the woman wouldn't like it, either.

Isaac turned left and he had eventually parked his car in the driveway. We both exited the car, Isaac locked both doors then strolled to his balcony. I simply just followed. He twisted the golden doorknob and went inside, I was quite surprised he didn't bother to lock the door. I stepped in, awkwardly standing in the living room and making eye contact with his mother.

"Hello, Ms. Psy," I had waved slightly. I knew his parents were divorced, I lucked out this time because Ms. Psy was the nicer one out of his two parents. When I was a child, Mr. Psy beat me meticulously while Isaac just watched, eyes frozen in shock and terror.

"Hello, Seto." She patted my head and gave me a hug. I awkwardly hugged back. When she pulled away, she faced Isaac, "I didn't know you said you were going to have friends over, Isaac!"

"It was unexpected too, it was just an..." his voice trailed off as his eyes circled the whole room, "...emergency."

Ms. Psy went running towards my direction, quickly hugging me once more. She let go, then shook my shoulders, staring right into my eyes. The pink curlers in her hair looked out of place, especially since she had purple hair like Isaac's.

"What happened Seto!" I blinked. I wish my mother was like this, caring and considerate.

I took a deep breath in, then exhaled, "My parents want to move away, and they didn't even take my opinions into account. They already bought the house and everything. In addition to that, they've arranged a marriage for me, and once I turn eighteen, they're shipping me away to another country to expand our reach of products and—"

She hushed me, "I'll go make you some tea, Isaac, make him feel safe." With that, she quickly shuffled away into the kitchen.

Isaac scratched the back of his neck as he went to take a seat down the sofa. I awkwardly sat down next to him, placing my backpack, quietly, onto the wooden floor. Isaac gave a lighthearted chuckle, "Sorry, my mum's always like that."

"It's alright." I smiled back, "You have a nice mother, she's a nice person."

Isaac just rolled his eyes, slouching on the couch while taking out his phone. I peeked over, resting my chin on his shoulder. "Surok's coming over?"

"Yeah," Isaac replied, "so is Ken, James, and Matt. Surok's gonna bring Cards Against Humanity, will that make you feel a bit better?"

I nodded. I feel grateful to have Isaac as a friend, I don't know how I would have fought this.

***

Ms. Psy refused for me to go find someplace else to stay the night, so she forced me to sleep in Isaac's room while Isaac slept on the couch. I mean, his blankets were warm and his room was pretty, well, bland to say the least, but I couldn't feel more at home. I rolled onto my side, reaching into my backpack and taking out my phone. The sudden change of light stung my eyes.

34 Missed Calls from "Mom"
31 Missed Calls from "Dad"

I scrunched my nose in disgust. I knew that my parents had the capability to find my location in a heartbeat, it seemed like they were holding back; testing me. I knew that I had to come back crawling to them eventually, but at the same time I didn't want to. I put my phone back into my backpack and turned onto my right side, facing the wall. It was wrote and drawn on, most likely one of our friends got bored and decided to vandalize the wall with permanent marker. "PENIS" — how creative.

I shut my eyes and attempted to drift off to sleep, but my mind was too crowded with thoughts of the future, thoughts of my own future. God, sometimes I do regret not paying attention in school—I do have all A's but where's that gonna lead me if I can't properly remember anything relevant? Hell, what was eight times six again, forty-three? No—this wasn't the time to contemplate on math, or anything else besides sleep at this point.

I turned onto my back this time, staring blankly at the ceiling. Isaac's clock was ticking loudly, about an average of one tick per three or so seconds, it was off by a lot. It bothered me. A lot of things bothered me—I was just one big killjoy ready to collapse on my knees and attempt to pry my heart and soul open. I cursed under my breath.

Maybe I was just tired, or maybe I wasn't just thinking straight, but I found myself getting up and out of bed. I felt safer around Isaac, he was the only one I could properly talk to. I quietly shuffled out of his room and rip toed down the stairs, making a couple eerie creaks as I stepped down here and there. I found the purple haired male hugging a pillow, bowl of popcorn at his side while some kind of drama show was on. I chuckled.

"Can't sleep?" Isaac asked, facing my direction.

"It's two in the morning and I should be asking you that." I snickered, practically running towards him and sitting down at his side. He put the popcorn bowl between us, I helped myself to a couple of bites. It was very greasy and buttery, something I would always expect from Isaac himself.

"I mean, this show isn't really good, there's nothing good on TV when you're watching at two in the morning." Isaac sighed. "You obviously came down here for a reason, what's up, killjoy?"

Despite the negative tone he used the word, I began to like that certain nickname. "I can't sleep, I'm just—worried."

"My mom isn't gonna let you go back to that hellhole anytime soon, I bet she'd even want to adopt you, Seto." Isaac smiled. I wish I had a mother like that.

"That would be nice," I murmured, "waking up every morning to someone as nice, and yet slightly embarrassing, mother like her wouldn't be so bad. You as a brother wouldn't be so bad, either."

"You as a little brother wouldn't be so bad, either." He ruffled my hair. "Are you really thinking of going back to your parents?"

"I honestly have no choice—my mother and father could pry me out of here with their personal guards anytime they'd want."

"For a rich kid, you oddly sound humble."

"And how many rich kids do you know, Isaac?"

"One, and it's the buffoon sitting to my right."

"Yeah, the popcorn is totally rich."

We both laughed in unison. I could feel my heart fluttering happily out of my chest. If only everyday could be like this—no worries, no arguments, nothing that would be out of the ordinary. It would just be, well, simplistic. As stupid as it sounded, I wanted a simplistic lifestyle; nothing too extravagant and posh like how I had grown up as a child. My eighteenth birthday was coming up after all, and if I could just sneak away on that particular day then my life would be set and stone.

Maybe I could have settled someplace cold in the United States, a state like New Jersey would be nice. Maybe I could actually go to college and work my sorry ass off for once and achieve something—being a chemist would be pretty cool. Maybe I would even graduate that supposed college and live in a small house—mansions are complete rubbish. Maybe I could even find someone I loved, a cute girl without ginormous breasts, a fake laugh, and pink heels would be preferable.

I began to doze off and think of that supposed girl. Colors of brunette and black hair never really interested me, but blonde had always locked it. Maybe a bright or dirty blonde would work on this girl, and maybe she would have the brightest of blue eyes and the prettiest of smiles. Maybe she would be a good artist, and maybe she would even work out. Maybe she would have a voice of silk, and yet an accent of a foreign kind—almost like Isaac's, but different. Maybe Australian or something?

But a guy could only dream of the perfect girl, and that's what I did.

Little did I realize that I had began to dip my head towards the side and awkwardly rest it on Isaac's shoulder. I could feel him stiffen at the sudden contact, but eventually I could sense him dozing off as well. The popcorn bowl slid onto the floor, spilling a bit, but I didn't really care or wanted to tell Isaac, I was too comfortable. I finally cleared my thoughts and shut my eyes, finding myself relaxed for the first time in hours.

Though I was writing out my future, it was considerably a death wish. I'd always thought of my parents to be the kind of people to get away with practically anything, even killing their own son. It was hard to defy them, fear was like an inescapable poison filling your lungs and drowning you from the inside, suffocating really. All those maybes were never always, after all—and always don't last forever. Come to think of it, neither did promises.

Yet, if I did end up dying early, or if I did end up taking my own life, what would be my last words? Uttering out something that would have no significance to the ones that didn't really know you was one thing, but it could impact the whole standards of the people who did know you—the ones who did always care. Famous last words were something people were remembered by, and despite the unlikelihood that anyone was going to remember me out of the seven billion people of this earth, I still wanted something of significance. Maybe that blonde girl would remember me by those words.

In the end, I was just a killjoy.

And killjoys always needed to make some noise.