NEO

'You're too much.'

An echoed verbatim.

A dream crossed with a nightmarish flutter.

It was all a haze; a fatalistic view.

Freshly mowed grass swayed underneath his shoes as he stood at the fence. Kids swung at the playground cybersets with raucous laughter to rip through the wall around him. Every time he tried to approach, their laughter stopped, and whispers commenced with sharper giggles before retreating to the other side of the grounds. So he stayed at the fence, too far out to be disturbed, watching the clouds go by. Sometimes, on the other side, older students studied the wispy plants with papers in hand.

They laughed with each other too.

A chime rang out.

An alarm screeched.

Neo jolted when he found himself in his old school desk, his favourite pencil in hand with his daily scribbling in the margins. Each one, incomprehensible. Abandoned in the haze as a looming shadow appeared over him.

"Teimea, if you have time to draw in class, you can pay attention to the lesson," the teacher bit at the holoboard, their features mangled and distorted when he tried to pick out something to cling onto, to echo over himself. Neo switched around to the classroom from around his desk, where his datascroll flashed out red warnings. Other children, all faceless except for their eyes, staring, giggling.

Neo lifted his datascroll to investigate the interesting squiggles, but frowned when the teacher turned in full. In the corner after the constant disruptions, he swung his feet out and frowned when one of his classmates whispered, 'I bet he draws all those stupid little butterflies. Why is he so obsessed with them? It's weird.'

Because I like the way they fly.

It slipped out of his mouth, and the giggles intensified as he shrunk into his shoulders — hiding underneath gym mats during gathered announcements for upcoming events so no one would look at him for too long.

But they always found a way somehow.

It never got any easier.

Never.

The laughter. The pointing. He hated the pointing most of all. He hated the cornering sensation of teeth when the pointing forced him into a corner with the spinning nausea when he tried to slip out of its grasp to escape. Out of the fence, bouncing from place to place when he reached a boiling point. Mom frowned so much, her concern palpable, when he wanted to make her laugh the most.

If this is my life flashing before my eyes... just get it over with.

He stood in the snow as a group of his friends when the voice dug deeper into him — or maybe they never were — tried to create snow-sculptures while they spoke of the project that he struggled to grasp what it was about. Their faces were a little clearer, a little more focused, but he was never good with the malleability of faces. Names were all he had of his memory.

One of them, a girl named Kaitlyn—Kaitie—Kathy? Maybe he wasn't that good at names either, but he was never good for anything. He remembered her the most, due to her sense of kindness, but she held her silence. Another name, a boy named Alix—or maybe it wasn't. He stood at the sidelines, popular, he talked as much as he did, as he wanted to. Neo tried to grasp what it was he did differently — what he could do differently. Why they liked him and why they didn't like him when they both fell into chatty rhythms.

Because you're annoying about it? You never shut up?

Neo flinched at the disembodied scoff. But he doesn't either.

But at least he lets people get a word in sometimes.

The last of his memory, a girl named Rachal, held out her datascroll to Kaitie and Alix. "I was trying to figure out if we should do the book report this way instead of the other way," she said, insistent. "We had to analyze the arc and make it our own. I was wondering if we should go with the assumption the character reached his limit to turn into an antagonist, but I don't know if it would fit him..."

"What if he deserved that?" Katie asked.

"Maybe he should've just talked to the others," Neo said, weaving into her own interrupted words, hoping his thoughts would be accepted.

Rachal twisted to him. "I didn't ask you, Neo. Why do you always have to interrupt Katie?"

"It's okay..." she whispered, unheard.

It really wasn't, but you just can't help yourself. The thought gets in your mind and you have to get it out.

Rachal turned her back on him to continue the discussion with Katie.

It bit at his ribcage and teeth drove into them to split him in half. It hurt too much. He took a small step back from them. Another. It choked his throat and the screaming almost left it, but it came out bitter embers. Or maybe the flutter made it difficult to decipher. A metal stake went through his heart to send a shock-wave of pain straight into his eyes at the old words.

He spouted out answers when the teacher requested them.

Neo sank into his seat when the faceless teacher eyed him, then asked once more.

A raised hand, a verbatim answer accepted.

Why?

Impulse. Annoyance. He couldn't be anything else but the person he was. I want them to like me.

"He's stopped engaging in classes," one of the head teachers told Mom, who continued to frown while Dad trembled the slightest bit. "If his grades continuously drop like they have been...

But whenever I did... I just got laughed at. I got ignored because I couldn't control myself. I had to say it. I had to say the answer, because I knew the answer, but the only thing I didn't do... was raise my hand to brace them for the annoyance of me. I just wanted to answer questions. I wanted people to ask questions. I want to be able to ask questions.

It fluttered when something pushed him through the dream and his back hit one of the cubbies. It was too much. Too fast. Too overwhelming. The boy's arm crept closer to his mouth, and what was he supposed to do but bite down?

Everyone stopped laughing.

Freed from the cage, the bells and alarms cast a groaning symphony as he found himself outside to flee them, underneath the tree he spent most of his time at to observe others play. Some played at the starball fields, where bats cracked against the balls to send them flying into the fence. Others leaned against the wall and chatted in groups. There he sat, alone, with a book in his lap to understand the characters on the page — the people around him.

He moaned with his tears as he dug his hands into his temples, to hide them and tear apart himself to replace it all. Replace what they hated. Make them smile. Make them laugh with him. Echo them. He had to. The bell rang, but he found himself stuck at the roots of the tree, where nebulous tendrils choked his chest. Whenever a word dared to show itself, he dug his teeth in his tongue and made it bleed instead until it left scars on his heart and mind.

He bounced along to the beat of his restless body, and people jeered at such an insignificant motion.

But how can they stay still?

Another knife, and he fought to keep himself still to not take up the space when he was worthless. He studied outs and escapes, but Mom kept too much of a close eye on him, and they became nothing more than flimsy ideas.

'I want to go home.'

It slipped out of his mouth when he reached Mom's car, with Jin in the back seat without a care in the world and a smile sent his way.

He had no strength.

Neo sat in his seat and her distant voice called for his well being, but even her words faded away.

"I'm okay," he said and forced a smile on his face. "I just want to go home."

Jin stopped smiling.

But I have to be someone else. That's the only way I'll be happy.

He cleared out the fluttering for glass.

"You forgot this!" Kiala's voice rang out through the corridors of the collegiate. Neo suffocated behind his creation and smiled at her.

Forgetful... you forgot Jin's game. He never forgave you for that. And why should he?

Jin scowled at him with hate. 'Don't come back.'

I really tried, Jin.

"Nova Spacyn?"

Another quiet one — full of nervousness and a sense of dread with the same amount of eyes on him. He said hello to her, ready to bounce into a newfound escape, but she ran from him in an instant, and he tasted blood for his pushy arrogance.

She gathered her papers, and he raised an eyebrow at what she presented. Her voice shook and she shifted on her feet in discomfort, though most gave her genuine attentive interest. Around him, they laughed with his voice, his white noise words, but he hid behind the mask and hoped they liked it instead of him.

"Ghosts?" he blurted out.

Nova froze.

It was a standardized anomalous project, but nothing compared to his studies of the big ones. Everyone got some education on them. Nova sank, but then squared her shoulders and glared at him. "Yeah, ghosts. I believe there's enough evidence to suggest there's an anomalous standard to prove their existence."

She just wanted someone to ask a question.

"So you believe ghosts are real?" Neo asked.

Nova folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, her attention full on him. "And you don't?"

He tested the thought. "No."

"Why not?"

Another question.

"Because there's also not enough proof to suggest that ghosts are anything more than anomalous energy fields in what we deem as 'haunted' places that can be explained away by the environment around it," he answered.

Nova shook her head. "And you can't explain it away as to what causes said strange interference?"

"Sure."

"Like?"

Neo grinned, and his mask almost broke. "Just the wind."

"How do you explain disembodied activity?"

"If we're to reach for an anomalous explanation," he said, and he focused on her when the eyes switched between them, but space shrunk. "I suppose one could wave it off as a nearby mind-affecting anomaly. Such things exist, you know." He set his chin on his hands and smiled. "Our mind is the greatest anomaly, after all."

Nova scoffed. "Sure, until it can't explain other things."

A stubborn belief.

It rang out once more, and he broke through the tearing field.

"Did I do something to piss you off?" he asked to her departing back.

It wouldn't be the first time.

Until she turned around.

"No?"

But you were mad. I hurt you. I trapped you in that hell. It was me.

He wanted to turn away with the simple answer before it burst forth from his eyes at his failure to be anything else.

Her hand squeezed his. "Neo."

He owed it to her to face her and what he failed to keep in his life.

Tears went down her face. "I want you to wake up."

No, you don't... I'm not even who you wanted to save. You wanted to save someone else, not me.

Neo opened his mouth to say it, but he jolted when a large metro swept through the rainy streets and blasted a sheet of water straight into his face and all over Nova, who held out her arms with a startled expression.

It bit at his skin, visceral when he shook his leaded limbs and tried to squeeze out his clothes. "This is why I hate walking down this street," he mumbled. "It's like people feel the need to just slam themselves through the puddles."

'I need you to wake up.'

He shut his eyes tight to flee the flashing life. I'm not who you meant to save. You meant to save another version of me. Another me who filled the space and everyone liked the white noise. Not me. I'm a mess. I don't deserve to be awake. I don't want to be awake.

'I want to go home.'

You will.

'You need to wake up.'

From what?

Constant questions.

I should've just kept my mouth shut. I should've bit my tongue until I tasted blood again. That always gets me to shut up. Too curious as to why it tastes like hot iron.

'Neo.'

No.

I don't even know who that is anymore.

The Neo you want? He's dead. The Neo who made you laugh and smile, made you feel comfortable and listened to... he was fake, but that's what you and everyone wanted.

All that's left is this.

'Talk to me.'

No.

'I want to hear you.'

I don't want to hear myself. I don't want to hear the tempest in my head. It never shuts up. You'll get tired of it, annoyed. I'm so tired. Tears slipped down his face as he dug into the darkness. I don't want to be like this. I want to be normal. I want people to like me. Everything hurts. Everything is so much bigger than I probably remember it being. It hurt. They might as well have stabbed me in the heart. Why? I just asked a question? Why does the rejection hurt so much when I know most didn't mean it like that?

I'm drowning.

Neo drove it deeper into his bleeding sockets when time played out at his feet.

Why can't I just get up and put effort into it? Why do I run into a wall when I try?

Mom's unending patience baffled him when he failed to do his chores, where instead she gave him smaller steps. Easier steps.

"It's okay, sweetheart," she said with a pat of his head. "Does it help to cut it down into smaller pieces?"

I should just do it from the beginning. I don't need it to be cut. I should just be able to do it. He screeched without a voice.

"Why don't you make logs to help?" Nova suggested instead, a stringent planner through and through.

And hear myself talk?

Neo raised his head from his fingers when Nova's shape came closer to him.

"I don't care," she insisted. "I just want you to wake up. I know you're tired, but just because it's hard doesn't mean you have to die. Just tell me you exist. I don't regret it."

'I love you.'

He floated in the dark and sighed.

I'm too scared.

If this wasn't my life flashing before my eyes, what was it? Why won't it leave me alone?

He took in another breath of the flowers when the pressurized suffocation on his face released itself into nebulous mist. "I don't know," he admitted, finding his voice to live. "I'm too tired, Nova. Can I sleep for one more day?"

Just one more?

'I want you in my life.'

"It's just a nap, not the end of the world," Neo whispered.

His voice went unheard.

Just one more day.