“What’s your name?” the kid asked while following Xavier, who was navigating on his phone.
“What’s it to you? It’s none of your business.”
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He had no intention in giving his personal details. Certainly not to a delusional child that lingered around like a goose carcass.
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“I’m walking you home, we aren’t friends. Seal your jaws until we get there, I have no interest in talking.”
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A sorrow wave flushed out of the kid’s head. He was desperate to speak. Perhaps he had thoughts that he had never spilled out to anybody else out from his maw. The kid may have known that Xavier would be an individual he would never see again. Maybe it was easier to rant on about things when you know that the man you meet will never cross paths with you again. Xavier wouldn’t tell, but he also didn’t care.
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The feelings radiating from the kid was making him vexatious. It gave him a headache. It echoed in the walls of his skull
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“Fine, I’m Xavier. Cut the sadness, you’ll get a therapist later. I’m not someone to rant on about your problems,” he said, his voice thrashing at him. The kid blinked. The emotion didn’t change.
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“You talk weirdly,” he replied. Finally, there was a shift in his aura. It was relieving to Xavier. The feelings that beamed off the kid were now plain. Silent. Bright. Far more calming. Perhaps Xavier did speak a bit oddly. A bit random. Knowing how people felt made you see through their fragile glass minds and comment at every hint of emotion.
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“I’m Arsen,” the kid added on after a minute pause. It made Xavier laugh for a second. Very temporary.
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Sounds like arson.
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Arsen’s emotions radiated irritation.
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“Shut up,” he demanded.
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“I know, it’s kind of a stupid thing for me to laugh at,” Xavier said back.
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After that, there was a long period of silence. Xavier finally arrived at Arsen’s house. It looked large. Quite a nice looking house. Rather gaudy for a person living in Baltimore. It seemed immense with a geometrical shape. His family must’ve been wealthier than he had expected. He walked up to the doorstep and rang the doorbell. Fear started arising from Arsen again.
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“What the hell? Why are you scared again? Of your parents?” Xavier asked, waiting for a response from the door. Arsen didn’t reply. His behavior was very abnormal. Difficult to understand. Xavier turned around to face him.
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“I said, why are you scared? Answer me,” he ordered. Right then, the door began creaking, letting light leak out to the dim lit doorstep. Arsen thrusted his leg to take off back onto the street. Xavier was expecting something like from the rising tension that came from him. He gripped Arsen’s wrist and shoved him towards the door.
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“Are you insane? You’re at your house, why are you trying to run away?” Xavier muttered to him quickly.
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Just then, the door fully cracked open, a woman standing there. She seemed old, yet young at the same time. It was hard to describe. Her hair color displayed a caramel color, all clumped in a rabbit tail-like bun. Her eyes were a basic shade of blue. She seemed American, maybe European, although she bore near no resemblance to Arsen. Arsen hair shouted obsidian black. He seemed a bit East Asian. At her sight, Arsen seemed to calm down. His feeling straightened and calmed, almost like it was relieved. But relieved of what?
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“Arsen,” she said, “what are you doing out here? In freezing weather? Are you insane? It’s 12:34. When, where and how did you go out?”
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Xavier could see dots of red, orange and yellow spinning around her head. She was feeling irritated, probably mad at Arsen. Of course she was. Her son, or maybe a familiar relative, had gone off in the freezing weather during the middle of the night. She turned her gaze over Xavier and narrowed her eyes.
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Arsen began replying to the woman in an unfamiliar language. They argued for a bit, and she sealed the discussion by yelling at him. Probably telling him to go upstairs. He slipped his shoes off and walked into the house without saying another word, but the woman didn’t immediately go inside. An interrogation was going to happen to Xavier too.
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“Who are you?” she began.
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“I was taking a walk outside and I saw him going around like he’s drunk. I think he has mental issues.”
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She felt offended, like he’d spat on her face.
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“Excuse me? Are you talking about my son?” she asked.
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She is his mother after all.
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“No, I’m serious. He was acting all odd, felt the urge to run away from me multiple times. He seemed to hallucinate someone sitting next to me. Ma’am, I can assure you that something’s up with him. Maybe get him checked in with a psychologist.”
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Frustration overwhelmed the woman.
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“I don’t have the energy to deal with this…” she groaned. “Anyways, thank you. Wait here,” she said.
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After 5 minutes or so, she came back with a coat and a 20 dollar bill.
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“Take this with you. Thanks for bringing him home. Get yourself some coffee if you need, it’s cold tonight.”
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Xavier nodded, and the woman slammed the door shut. That’s when he realized how chilly it was. Desperately, he slipped on the coat, insulating the bit of body heat he had left. He pulled up a map from his phone, looking for the closest coffee shop. One shop was still open, not too far away. He began speed walking, fast enough to get there quickly and slow enough not to exhaust himself any further. His skin had been exposed for nearly over 50 minutes. He dragged his feet, step by step. He reached the shop and walked in. The scent of coffee flooded the place. It had a warm atmosphere, bringing more of the thawing pain into his body. Walking over to the cashier, he slapped the money onto the counter. An employee turned to face him, a bit startled.
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“Get me anything that’s warm,” he demanded.
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He took a seat near the window, staring out to the street. He watched as the snowflakes fell, one by one. It added onto the layer of snow. He thought more about Arsen. Would his parents care enough to check him out? Of course they would. They seemed prosperous. They could easily get a psychologist for him. The question still lingered though. Was he gifted too? He didn’t know what to think if he was. Maybe his gift wasn’t as good as Xavier’s if he hadn’t noticed by then.
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Xavier held hatred towards other gifted individuals. He hadn’t met many before, but he didn't like any of them. Not a single one. They always gave him an infuriating mix of thoughts. He couldn’t describe it in a single word.
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“Your- uh, hot drink, sir,” the employee said to him. He was too engulfed in his world to notice that the employee had approached him. Normally, he could sense the presence of people through their emotions. He could tell if someone was hiding somewhere or not. There was a certain proximity around him where he could feel emotions. He never bothered to measure it, but it was somewhat wide. Whenever he disconnected from reality, however, usually lost too far in thoughts, his gift would halt its use. That’s exactly what had happened.
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“Thank you,” he replied. He took a sip of the drink. The top was cloudy, creamy. It pleased his taste buds. He could tell that there was some caffeine in it. It was a mix of hot chocolate and coffee. The drink flowed down his throat. It burned. It was really doing its job, warming him up.
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He chugged the drink down. He stood up, hitting his empty coffee cup onto the table. The took the change that the employee had left for him and exited the shop. It was cold again, especially after getting used to the warmth that the coffee shop had brought. It was better than before, though. He had the coat, concealing a bit of heat. His thoughts trailed back to the main reason why he had ever left him home. He wouldn’t try to kill himself by freezing again. What worth did it even have when it failed the first time?
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His feet drew a path in the snow, step by step. He finally reached the door of his apartment complex. With his shoulder, he shoved the door open. Taking the steps, he began climbing back up to his apartment. As soon as he reached the 2nd floor, he felt a distant feeling of sorrow. From upstairs? He sped up his climbing.
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The closer, the stronger. He ran up to see his room, the only room on the 6th floor. The door was creaked wider than he had left it. Sobs echoed out of the room, syncing with the waves of mourning. He creaked the door open a bit to rest his eye’s gaze on a figure, crying on the floor.
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Immediately, it snapped to him who it was.
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Shit. She found the note.
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The last thing he wanted for her to get all emotional and cry to him. He stepped back. Mistake. The wooden plank under him screamed a creak, alerting her of his presence. She got startled and turned around to face him. She inhaled a gasp.
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“Xavier?”
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