This is not a good story.

I mean, there is nothing to tell, same old cliché cry of an angsty teenage boy wanting to end his life.

The quintessential walk of shame through the corridor of high school, describing excruciating details about the Regina George of our highschool's blue coloured orbs deeper than the sea that can drown you and colder than the ice that can freeze you.

The kids personified as monsters but can still melt your candy heart were waiting for the bus or their parents to pick them up. I hate the locality, the only thing that pulled my sanity down like gravity was the pre-primary school nearby.

I hated kids since Jennifer Lopez led to the inception of Google Images or even before that. What's so adorable and heartwarming about idiotic lumps of flesh with peas for brains who can poop and throw up for a job?

They don't judge.

Rayleigh was one of them.

The sight of the children whose smile shone brighter than the sun filtering through the canopy of leaves broke my heart into two. One-half beat for the kids who hugged their parents even when their hands couldn't wrap around them. The warmth of their hugs were the fireplace on a winter evening and their goofy giggles were the crackling of roasting marshmallows singing urban legends during campfire.

The other half beat for Rayleigh.
Rayleigh would meet me after her class was dismissed and I was on my way back home. Rayleigh would engulf me in her hugs and melt all my silent tears in her whispers.
Rayleigh would tell me that she wants to live with me for eternity(even if she pronounced eternity as 'elertity').

Alas, you'd expect me to tell you about Rayleigh and cry rivers and brew storms in a teacup about her.

Nah, I am not that sort of chap.
I am a chap who wants to uninstall his life. For good.

Don't get me wrong and definitely don't bombard my inbox with suicide helplines. I have tried all the mental health services that you broke wet socks personified can only imagine, or not even that.

I don't know how BlahTherapy became a sexting platform and 7CupsOfTea counsellors judge me because I don't like BTS.

Dude, it won't make a difference if you force the whole love yourself album down my throat and make me feel bad about not listening to them. That's what happens when you skip school and go to K-cons and stream M/Vs. Your oppas won't compensate for your lost brain cells.

Sorry, I got emotional. Stan Day6, by the way.

Anyway, the walk I made was out of school, to the nearest cafeteria. It was five blocks down the lane, I could definitely use the little life that was left in me to tread the walk of shame. I always wondered what all places were the ones that I have already visited for the last time. Right now, it didn't matter anymore, not more than a cup of coffee. Your boy has got priorities to meet and a good cup of coffee gets you through anywhere, even death.

I entered the coffee shop and the smell of sweat and coffee beans hit my nose. The last scents I'll remember before I die. What a lovely and poetic combination, too bad I won't stay around to pen it. You guys should do it, it's okay if you don't give me credits.

The coffee shop, Juniors, was more packed than usual. It was my first time entering the coffee house during peak socialising time, might as well be the last.

I hunted for a quiet retreat close to the ordering counter. In the time being, Amari waved his hand at me. I would have been taken aback if today was a normal day, but as it wasn't, I waved back.

Kamryn, Zion and Lyric didn't even acknowledge my existence and I heaved a sigh of relief at that. I didn't want their faces of demonic omens to jinx my last day of existence. They were already taking the pity credit of dissociating life out of my soul, they better just not prevent any shots of my death.

Lyric turned around to call the waiter but got a glimpse of my being standing next to the ketchup vending counter. The gummy smile of the plight and uncalled sympathy sent shivers down my spine.

Oh god, her smile is equivalent to a black cat crossing my path. Will I not die today?

No, I will. She can't change it. She can just spin sweet lies like a spider and have moths to befriend her before she spits us to weave more traps.

My hands wanted to tear the handkerchief in my pocket but I could only muster the strength to walk past my old friends and sit on a table for two.

I smiled at the worker who cleaned my table but I got no response in return. He must have not seen me in the sun. Richard, the middle-aged guy who looks to old to wear the striped staff's clothes was my night companion at Junior's.

I didn't disturb him, this was the time when he earned the most out of cleaning the mess that others made. He was the most virtuous in terms of biblical aspects of life and I was the worst. That's why we made a great team.

I would sneak out at night through Kassy's old bedroom's window and visit the Junior's for a great cup of macchiato. Sometimes, when the barista would be reluctant to serve me past his working hours, Richard would make the only coffee he knows how to make– latte.

It was too milky for my taste but the wrinkled smile that would twinkle behind is grey locks would make the latte taste better than ever.

There were times when coffee wasn't the reason for my escape, it would be Richard and his parent talk. He was the one who made me scared of failing in life. His job as cleaning staff in a good-for-nothing coffee shop. He would always ask me to study hard and make him proud. Just like Rayleigh.

His smile was stolen and so was his black mane ever since Rayleigh stole our happiness with her absence.

I had distanced myself from Richard since then, it was bold of me to assume that he cared about me. I don't think my absence would carve a hole in his heart as Rayleigh's did, but I didn't want to take a chance. I didn't want to hurt the friend I had found in a man double my age.

I didn't want to hurt a person who was the only one who didn't judge.

I waited for the waiter, Alex, my long time quizzing rival and somewhat friend. I mean, he smiled every time he saw me, that's more than enough for me.

He was bobbing his head to the stupid Kendrick Lamar song. He finally noticed me, crooked his worker's hat and came over to take my order.

His smile inevitably bloomed across my face too.
"Hey man! Long time no see. Regular Macchiato, right?"
He noted down the order in his unicorn notepad even before I could agree.

"You were in Kathmandu or what? You had gone M.I.A.!" The excitement in his usual greetings was new to me. His camaraderie is naturally but his elation in the meeting was newfound. I didn't like it. Not before I was going to die and wanted enough reasons to die. Sweet conversations weren't one of them.

"Hey, Kal?" He tapped lightly on my shoulders, jolting me out of my overthinking trance. I looked at him, raising my head, but I wasn't getting my coffee without answering him.

"Yeah," I played with the keychain in my hand," I was busy with school stuff."

"Oh!" He raised his eyebrows, extolled his words. "Our Derek O'Brien is preparing for the last quiz of the term in his special dungeon, I see." He teased me, getting my chuckle in return.

"I don't think so, " I added, " I heard Elikai is preparing well. He'll beat me this year." I won't be there, he'll get the chance to shine that he deserved.

The thought of Elikai pushed me back to the special dungeon of dark and gloomy memories. They had gathered cobwebs, except the ones where Elikai and I rivalled our hearts out. Those kept me alive.

Until it was hard for me to take in.

"He is!" He agreed, nodding his head like a dog wags its tail," he is ready to beat the shit out of you–"
Alex covered his mouth with his notepad, closing his eyes shut as if doing so would magically reverse the words that came out of his mouth.

"I'd love to see El beat the shit out of me for once and stop fantasizing about it." I joked.

"I'll get your order, promise me you won't tell me I told you this." He held my shoulders, pleading me.

"I won't, I don't think I'll meet him anytime soon."

He took a deep breath as silent gratitude and handed me a toffee from his pocket as a weak bribe.

The toffee was Rayleigh's favourite. I smiled and accepted the memoir while he left, his cringe and embarrassment still lingering on my shoulders.

So, yeah you'd either expect me to tell you about Alex and why we are quizzing rivals or why I want to die. Or maybe neither, you're just waiting for my narration to end and you can write that forsaken poem. Patience, my friend, patience.

The ride will end only when someone dies, not before that.

Back to the backstory, Alex, right? Well, he is of no importance to me other than my cup of coffee, so I'll not waste my precious few hours on some cute barista you want to drool over.

Let me spend on the ladder of unfortunate circumstances that I climbed before jumping off the staircase.

Back it the days, my glorious days I mean, the days when I thought suicide was an easy escape for cowards and ambitious fools, I was at the pinnacle of who I was.

It started in fifth grade(Americans, I don't get your schooling system, my bad) when I was supposedly adopted by a group of guys and girls. I felt belonged somewhere, after years of roaming around in the recess like a nomad, asking kids from different sections to let me play with them. Some were kind, letting me play as long as their friend was absent due to sickness, others, not really. They'd assign me the gem emerald but throw me away from the game of freeze and chocolate when their close friend would cry about wanting emerald.

It surprises me how calm I was back then, easily sidelining from trauma, trouble and tea. If I could try, I'd definitely be the 8-year-old Kal Callahan. Alas, that's where I am going to meet the young boy, to heaven, where he went after my so-called group of friends killed him.

Metaphorically of course.

Sixth grade and seventh grade were spent understanding their definition of "leg-pulling" and "jokes". The way they'd joke about how old my uniform pants looked, how washed they were or how their eyes mysteriously fixated only at my yellow patches armpits of the uniform shirt. It was maddening, their scrutinizing eyes and rotten minds.

Girls had worse, trust me. I mean, my friend(or not anymore) Leni was bashed for using less branded underwear and oiling her hair. Some girls even dropped eggs on her in the lavatory.

That was 16 July 2015. Today is 16 July 2020.

She was hiding her face and running around the building, finding a faucet being enough to wash her hair. The tears rolling down her cheeks rubbed the salt against her silent wounds more than the deed itself.

Her green eyes dusted behind the veil of pain and discomfort shine in my nightmares like an emerald. No wonder I love that gemstone. Leni was my gemstone. Was because I won't be there any more.

I know I know, I have told you 8373638846 times within 879 words that I'll die, but just in case you forgot to read the memo while writing that goddamn poem.

Anyway, where were we? With leni, yeah. I ran across three blocks and bought shampoos to help her out. We washed her hair and to a certain extent our fear of being out of place. We were each other's places.

Then I had my breakthrough. The golden boy Elikai and eighth grade.

~~~

Word count:
2123
A/N
I don't drink coffee. I like tea. I'll die without tea. Comment which beverage is your favourite!