Like the fucking scene in front of me.
We’re at the Meet Up, watching a football game between Arsenal and Tottenham. Everyone here cheers for the former. I do, too, but only so everyone thinks I actually give a fuck. I don’t.
Ronan and Xander are making a ruckus, kicking and screaming as if they’re the ones playing. Captain, Levi King, shushes them so he can hear the commentator.
Unlike his cousin, the current captain of Elites — Royal Elite School’s football team — is more open, but still a control freak like everyone in the King household. They could use personal psychoanalysing from Freud himself — if he were still alive, that is.
Aiden is sitting across from me with Silver by his side as he places a hand around her shoulder. They keep whispering things to each other before she laughs discreetly and he smirks with mischief like the bastard he is.
She doesn’t give a fuck about football. At all. And yet, she makes it her mission to watch it and put on a show with Aiden.
And I know it’s a show, because on normal days, they can’t stand each other. They only pull this shit in front of me. I know it’s a game.
Her way of revenge.
His way of being a dick.
Despite knowing all that, I can’t purge it out of my head. I don’t watch them, not when they can sense me, but I see them all the time. I fucking hear them, even if the TV’s sound is loud.
This is the unwanted chaos I don’t understand. If I know it’s fake, why the fuck am I so hung up on it?
Why do I want to stand, punch Aiden in the face, and devour her lips in front of him so he knows who the fuck she belongs to?
Perhaps this is what it feels to be the victim of chaos. That chaos is Silver.
Not Aiden. It’s all on her.
Since our parents started officially going out together and she decided Aiden, the fucker, deserved her virginity and the title of her fiancé, I’ve turned her life into hell.
There isn’t a field I haven’t made her lose in. I used to at least leave piano alone, because she’d have this proud expression when she won, and she’d take a picture with both her parents and post it on social media with the happiest caption.
But she killed that part of me, so now, I win everything. And I mean every-fucking-thing. Down to the simple credit homework.
I don’t only win, I crush her. I don’t only push her to be Miss Number Two, but I also win with a large gap that makes her doubt everything.
Soon after, she gives me that glare, tells me she hates me, and then goes to the park to eat a small Snickers bar and cry on her own.
While she does so, she usually curses me aloud like a madwoman speaking to herself. I watch every moment until she goes back home, smiling and hugging Sebastian as if nothing happened.
That’s the thing about Silver. Her happiness is visible to the entire world through her social media and her hashtags, but her misery is only for herself.
And me.
There’s always me.
It’s not Aiden whom she comes back to for more. It’s not Aiden that she’d demand a redo with. It’s me.
Always me.
Silver never gives up. Never.
You can bury her under ten metres of dirt and she’ll dig her way out and demand a rematch.
Her phone dings and she pulls it out to stare at the text. I lean on my hand, pretending to watch the TV or Ronan and Xander’s show. In reality, I’m only watching her. The slight parting of her lips, the way her shoulders tighten a little before she throws the phone back in her pocket and feigns interest in whatever Aiden is telling her.
She’s agitated. No. Not just agitated. She’s scared.
Usually, it’s something to do with her mother’s well-being, but lately, she’s been disappearing without a word and spending less time with Mum.