Act III— Who am I.

  The smoke faded for the highschooler. To him, the world wasn't streets and buildings; it was a canvas being painted. Every puff of smoke was a color—maybe a skull image, maybe a sunset.

  "Thank you for riding New York Metro," the announcement droned.

  He put his headphones on. The music started, and the canvas came alive. Every step was a line, a shape. Every beat was a color. The cigarette in his hand was his brush.

  He walked down the street, humming. A 16-year-old with gray eyes cloudy, turbulent.

  He got to the school door. "Hey, kid. You can't smoke," a teacher barked. "Inside the school," the boy corrected, not stopping. "I think I am not in the 'school' yet. Am I?" He flicked the cigarette away and walked inside, his hair catching the color of the sun.

  He found an empty seat and threw his bag down. Thud. The sound made the whole class look at him. He felt their gazes, but they were irrelevant.

  He opened the window. He took out a cigarette and lit it. The class watched in horror. This time, he didn't stay silent.

  "Can I know why you are looking at me?"

  The class went silent. He took a long drag of smoke. "You still didn't answer me."

  One brave student spoke up. "You're... literally smoking on the first day. In the middle of the classroom. What do you think we woul—"

  "What I would think," Arthur interrupted, exhaling smoke out the window, "is that you mind your own business. Something hard about that?"

  He didn't wait for an answer. He took a few more breaths, then flicked the cigarette out the window just as the teacher walked in.

  She smelled it. The strange, sharp scent. She looked at the fire alarm. Silent. She sighed and ignored it.

  "So," the teacher said. "Now, your turn." She pointed at the 16-year-old. "Arthur," he said, and sat down.

  "No," the teacher sighed. "You have to tell us more. Don't be shy." "Correction. I am not shy. But there is nothing else." "Like... you don't have hobbies?"

  Arthur sighed. This conversation was taking more energy than running a marathon. "I read." "Fantastic. What type of books?" "Historical."

  "Nerd," a boy in the back coughed. The class laughed.

  The teacher tried to calm them, but Arthur was already looking at the boy. He tilted his head. "Billy Smith." The teacher was confused. "You... think something about history is funny?" "Yeah, I do," Billy sneered. "Like, history is full of funny things like th—"

  "I don't get what is funny about history," Arthur said, his voice flat. "Or what is a laugh about it. You asked for something funny in history? Your birth date.”

  The class went dead silent.

  "Pity for your mother and father," Arthur continued, "for having such a dumb kid. Your hobbies consist of talking to girls, staring at girls, and trying to have a girlfriend. That is more important to you than history."

  Arthur looked away, bored. "I feel like this is similar to something... Oh, right. Animals."

  "Okay!" the teacher shouted, slamming her hand on the desk. "You can't insult your classmate like that, Arthur!"

  Arthur didn't look at her. He sat back, put a hand on his head, and stared at the ceiling.

  After the class was done, the teacher called out. "Arthur. Can you come here?"

  Arthur, who was trying to get his headphones out, stopped and sighed. "Sure."

  "Why did you say that to your classmate?" she asked. "You can't insult people like that. Your classmates will hate you."

  "Which is the goal," Arthur said flatly. She blinked. "You... don't want to have friends? Why?"

  "No reason, Miss. Can I go?"

  She sighed. "Yes. You can go, Arthur. But... be nicer to your classmates."

  "Sure, Miss."

  He walked out. He put his headphones on, music starting—but that woman wouldn't shut up, and neither would the world. Billy was there. Blocking the hallway. "So," Billy sneered, "you were saying that I am stupid and somethin—"

  Arthur walked right past him. "No!" Billy yelled, grabbing Arthur's shoulder. "You don't go until I am done!"

  Arthur stopped. He looked at the hand on his shoulder. "Get your filthy hands off me."

  "Filthy? Didn't I say you wer—"

  CRACK.

  The sound was like a gunshot. The pain came running after it. Billy screamed, clutching his broken finger. Arthur walked away, brushing his shoulder. "Gross."

  Billy, his reputation ruined on the first day, roared in rage. He ran at Arthur from behind. Arthur sighed. He turned.

  He didn't use magic. He used fists. He punched him. Once. Twice. Again. Again. Again. The sounds changed from dry thuds... to wet smacks.

  Arthur stopped. The people in the hallway stared in horror. They saw a teen whose face was now a purple, swollen ruin.

  Arthur spat on the floor. "Blood got into my mouth. Gross." He took a napkin from his pocket, calmly wiped his hand, and tossed the napkin on Billy's unconscious body.

  He put his headphones back on and walked away. The bell rang. But for everyone else, it wasn't a sound anymore. It was the silence. The silence of cracking bones that was too loud to ignore.

  After some good shouting from the Principal—and a silent reminder that Arthur’s father was the city's best lawyer—he was let off with a warning. Being the brother of the school's star student didn't hurt, either.

  But the gazes were different now. They weren't looking at a student. They were seeing black matter for the first time in their lives.

  He walked to his seat, sat down, took out his pen and paper, and started writing what was left on the board.

  The day was half over. Lunch time. He got some food. It didn't look like food; "slime" would be a closer word. But he didn't have a choice.

  He tried to find an empty table. None were found. "Tsk," he clicked his tongue. "I need to sit with someone."

  He scanned the room. Two tables had seats: a group of boys and a group of girls. He went to the boys first. They looked at him, terrified, and nicely said, "No." Arthur didn't argue. He went to the girls.

  "Hey," Arthur said, standing over them. "Can I sit here?"

  "Ahh... no," the lead girl said, wrinkling her nose. "Okay." Arthur turned to leave.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  "What a weirdo," one girl whispered, loud enough to hear. "Yeah," another giggled. "How can you ask a girl like that?" "Like... have some common sense."

  Arthur stopped. He turned back. "I have common sense," he said.

  The girl flinched. "So... if you have that, how can you ask a questio—"

  Arthur raised his hand, silencing her. "I didn't come here to argue with you," he said, his voice flat. "I had enough of that today. I simply came to answer her."

  He walked out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. He scanned the place. No seats. He sighed.

  He walked out of the cafeteria seeing an open window, looked at the tray of slime, and tossed it out.

  "No place to eat in this school," he muttered.

  He went to the empty class.

  "I wonder," Arthur whispered to the empty room, "what Dad would have done in this situation."

  He put his headphones on, listening to music, humming, moving his head. Thirty minutes passed. Him and the clouds outside the window... they were having a conversation of silent stares.

  They were lovers, so in love that words couldn't describe it.

  But then, the door opened. The silence broke. The clouds drifted away.

  "Hey, man," a voice said. "Why are you sitting here lonely like that?" Arthur stopped humming. He took his headphones off. It was Sean.

  "I wasn't," Arthur said. "You... are you seeing things?" Sean asked, looking at where Arthur was staring. "No, it's..." Arthur started to explain the clouds, the art, the silence.

  He stopped. He looked at Sean. "Who am I trying to explain this to?" he thought.

  "To a human who has a brain," Arthur said aloud. "What?" "Anyway. What do you want?"

  Sean stepped fully into the room. "I just came here to get something. And found you here. So, I was a little bit surprised to find you... well, here."

  "You didn't eat lunch, did you?" Sean said.

  "I didn't." "Then you should come and have lunch with us." "No. I'm fine here." "Come on, dude," Sean said, gesturing to the door. "Don't be so isolated." " I wanted to be alone." Arthur muttered.

  "Well, that's something," Sean laughed. "Anyway, let's go." Arthur sighed, but he stood up. He followed Sean.

  He got back to the lunchroom. He felt a gaze—the group of girls. He stared back with his "eye of the storm" look. They flinched and looked away.

  He sat at Sean's table. The other boys were tense. They were sitting with the kid who broke Billy's nose. Arthur noticed the fear. He sighed.

  "I don't like stupidity," Arthur said, his voice calm. "Just that. I am not 'mad.' I don't use violence... unless it's necessary."

  Sean smiled. "I knew it. You aren't so bad as everyone thought."

  The day went by. Arthur got home. His mother hugged him tight, asking about his day. He lied and said it went well.

  He went to his room to change. He stopped in front of the mirror. The air in the room felt heavy.

  Arthur raised his hand. He pointed it at the glass. He started concentrating.

  Minutes passed. Nothing happened. He pointed harder, trying to force something to happen. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Come on.

  And then... a little shake. The glass vibrated. for a second.

  "Son?" The door opened. Arthur dropped his hand instantly.

  "What are you doing?" his mother asked. "Nothing, Ma."

  "Okay. Dinner is going to be ready in 10 minutes. Get ready." "Okay."

  She left. Arthur looked at his hand.

  He looked at the mirror that had barely moved. "What..." he whispered.

  "What has that woman done to me?"

  His dad, Angel, came home. He was a normal lawyer. He worked at a good office. He came home at 6 PM. He was... fine. Nothing more.

  His mother, Marcelle, was a normal woman. She didn't work. She took care of their five children. She didn't go out much. She kept the blinds closed.

  They sat at dinner. It was loud. Chaotic. Normal. Arthur acted like he was eating. He acted like he was enjoying the pot roast, smiling when his little brothers screamed. nodding when Angel talked about paperwork.

  But he was waiting.

  Dinner ended. He washed his plate. said goodnight walked to his room and closed the door. The silence was instant.

  He went to the window, taking out a smoke and lighting it.

  He exhaled, watching the grey smoke curl out into the night air. He looked up.

  There it was. The stars and the moon were having a festival. They were dancing, bright and chaotic and alive. He could hear the music in the silence.

  But he was an outsider. watching from the cheap seats. He leaned out, the smoke trailing from his fingers. He felt like he was there. close enough to the canvas... that he could almost touch it.

  His bigger brother, Peter, came in. He didn't knock. He just walked to the window, took the smoke from Arthur's hand, took a drag, and leaned against the frame.

  "You really like stars, don't you?" Peter asked, exhaling into the night.

  "It's a masterpiece," Arthur whispered. "The moon is the Queen of the court. Sitting with other nobles. Dancing with a hum that can't be transferred."

  Peter looked at him, shaking his head with a smile. "I always thought that you were smart. ...How did your day go?"

  "The usual."

  "The 'usual' is you beating someone."

  "Well. That is what happened."

  "Yeah," Peter laughed. "I heard it from my friends. I thought I could play the 'big brother' role and come and rescue you... but you didn't need me after all."

  He handed the smoke back. "Anyway. You have made quite the impression. Which, I think, wasn't your goal."

  "Yup."

  "Well, sorry for you," Peter chuckled. "But now you are famous. Maybe a girl or two will try to become your girlfriend."

  "Oh, shut up," Arthur muttered. "No one is looking at this face."

  "Why?" Peter said, looking at him critically. "You got a good-looking face. Brown hair. Gray eyes. Maybe a beard will make you perfect." He paused. "Plus, I know you aren't into that stuff."

  "Exactly," Arthur said, looking back at the moon. "I just want to stay like this."

  "Well, you can't," Peter said, pushing off the wall. "You either become a 'normal'... or you do what you do, and you become famous. Not like you wanted that. But it's the rules."

  He opened the door to leave. "Anyway. Thanks for the smoke, Arthur."

  Peter got out of the room. Arthur returned to the watcher's seat. He returned to the festival.

  Life became a usual play. Everyone knew their role.

  Everyone wanted to be the main one. But even the main one didn't want it.

  Arthur was a smart student. He could solve problems with a blink of an eye. But he had to play the fool.

  It worked. For a good time. Until one of the teachers said a wrong answer. And Arthur... Arthur had to correct him, hadn't he?

  Then the play was over. It was war. Every day, he had quizzes and equations sent to him. Triple the homework. He knew it was over. So, he had to win. He kept solving them, until it was confirmed: he is a genius. One that doesn't want to be.

  "My dear son," the Principal said. " You have a gift, Arthur.Why don't you use it?"

  "Well, look how the world turns," Arthur whispered to himself. "From two months ago, I was the 'troublemaker.' And today, I am the 'gem'." He looked at the Principal. "I don't like to be in the spotlight."

  "We know that part," the Principal said. "But we want to know why. Why don't you want the spotlight?" "Just don't want it." "Very well," the Principal sighed. "At least you have to be in a club. And let me tell you this, Arthur: I know what you're capable of. I want that. Don't play a fool. Give it all you've got."

  "Clubs?" "Yes. Clubs. Like... maybe the Chess Club." Arthur stared at him. "Isn't the leader of that club 'Mark'?"

  "Yes. He's our state champion."

  "I already defeated him in a chess game."

  The Principal's eyes went wide. "What? You... you have defeated Mark?" "Yes. Why are you surprised? He wasn't that good. My big brother is better than him."

  "Of course he's better! Your big brother goes to world tournaments."

  Arthur just looked at the wall. "Well," he thought, "what would happen to the Principal... if he knew that I sometimes win against Peter? Die in a heart attack?"

  "So," Arthur said, standing up. "I should get going. I will search for a good club. Rest assured, Principal." He walked out of the room. The Principal just watched him go. "...I need a break from that kid."

  "So," Arthur said, walking out of the Principal's office. "I should get going..." But Sean saw him. "And here we go again," Arthur thought.

  "Arthur!" Sean called. "What happened? Trouble?" "No," Arthur said, "just... he wants me to be in a club."

  "Well, that's great!" Sean said. "The basketball team is going to be really happ—"

  "Who said that I want that?" Arthur cut him off.

  "You... you don't want to play basketball?"

  "I don't like to depend on anyone," Arthur said. "I want a solo thing." "But with that big mind of yours! You could be a good captain! A very good player!"

  "I don't want to be in the spotlight."

  Sean was baffled. "What? So... so you don't want to date a cheerleader?" "No." Sean stared at him. "Nah, bro. You're gay."

  "I am not gay."

  "You sure? Anyone would want a cheerleader as a girlfriend."

  And there, Arthur saw it. This conversation... it was being watched.

  The jocks by the lockers.

  The "popular" girls by the fountain. Everyone. This "conversation" was a "deciding factor" for a lot of people. The genius kid was choosing his clique.

  Arthur sighed.

  "Okay, Sean," Arthur said, his voice suddenly calm. "I think I've made my decision."

  The tension raised. Everyone was waiting. Basketball? Soccer? Maybe tennis? No, no, it had to be the reading club... Or maybe th—

  "The cooking club."

  "...What?" It wasn't just Sean who said it. Maybe the school, if it was a human, would have said it.

  "The cooking club," Arthur said. "I like chemistry. And art. So, it had to be the cooking club."

  "Bro... are you crazy?" Sean said. "Ha?" "You know," Sean said, "I don't get you, man. You have all the opportunities in the world... and you just threw them away."

  The day continued. Arthur went to the cooking club. They thought he'd come to kill one of them. But he just said he wanted to join. And so, the gem was settled in a cooking club.

  He went back home. He played the play again.

  His little brother, Joseph, came in. "So dark, man," Joseph said.

  "Get out of the room, Joseph."

  "Or what?"

  "Or I will tell our neighbor that you want to date his daughter."

  "Man, why are you so aggressive? Like... I'm your little brother."

  "13 years old," Arthur said, looking at the ceiling. "In history, men became men because they were raised men, even when they were 6. But nowadays, we see children take that... and throw it out of the window."

  "No, bro," Joseph said.

  "You're the weird one." He jumped on Arthur, play-fighting.

  Minutes went by, but Joseph was exhausted. Arthur Just... defended. He never attacked.

  "Bro, attack! Are you scared?"

  "No."

  "Then do something!"

  "I was thinking of that," Arthur said.

  Arthur walked to the window. And jumped to the house next to them. He went inside, while his brother's mouth was wide open.

  He knew the neighbors were kind people. And he knew their daughter, Jasmine, had a crush on him.

  "What a pain," Arthur muttered.

  He looked next to him. Jasmine was sitting there.

  "You teleported."

  "No. You just didn't see me," he said.

  "So. You have finally taken my offer."

  "You want your heart broken?" Arthur said. "I told you. I don't want a girlfriend."

  "But my investigations say..."

  "Here we go again."

  "...that the girl that sits behind you has a crush on you."

  "Is it my fault?"

  "No. But I have to protect my boyfri—"

  "Jas," he cut her off. "You know why I refused to have a girlfriend."

  "I know."

  "And you still want to keep running in the desert."

  "Yes," she said. "Because there may be... an oasis."

  Arthur looked at the ceiling. "I can act. I can act that I am your boyfriend. But I won't be. I can make you feel loved... but it's just a fake feeling—"

  "I know," she said. "And that's why I don't want anything from you. Not now."

  "You're trying to turn lead into gold." he said. "Can't it happen? By a chemical reaction?"

  He smirked. "You were always good at chemistry, weren't you."

  "I learned from the best."

  "I am not the best," he said, his smile fading. "He was the best."

  "Who is 'he'?"

  Arthur sighed and walked to her window.

  "Thanks for the talk, Jas. Keep hoping for something that won't happen."

  "It will happen," she said. "You'll see."

  He jumped from her window, back to his room. His brother was gone. He waved to Jasmine. She waved back.

  "How was Father able to talk, and charm people, and make them do what he wanted?" He smiled. "...Father? Why did you leave me?"

  He waited.

  For seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. He waited for that wall to answer. It never did. Maybe because it was a wall. Or maybe... the wall didn't have an answer.