Different Realms

 TW: This story mentions depression, cheating, and demons (not in a bad way though) 

'''I am open for any constructive criticism you guys have for me. I also have this story on Fanfics and Other Stories Wiki if you want to check it out.'''

Prologue
I'm sitting next to my mother in the front seat of her car on our way to meet my mom's boss and his daughter at a park across town. I’m excited to see Mary, the boss’s daughter, for she was fun to play with and my 8 like me. I liked how her curly blonde hair bounded as Mary ran and how her hazel eyes sparkled when she was really happy. I turned towards my mother and she seemed happy too, but then I noticed something. "Mom," I say hesitantly, "are you by chance, um, seeing Mary's dad?" She almost brakes and whips her head towards me, her green eyes staring intensely at me, "What gave you that idea Ian?"

"Well, I know we go over to their place a lot and you guys often go to his room soon after we arrive. You also seem very couple-y when you guys are around each other. Also he likes to buy you dinner sometimes, and I don't know. It was just a thought."

She doesn't say anything as she turns back ahead. I am looking ahead as well, but for a different reason. I know she is criticizing herself for being so obvious about her relationship. Me on the other hand, I'm worried whether or not to tell my dad. Married couples definitely shouldn't be cheating on one another.

"Her father and I are...friends. There is no need to assume that or even tell your father about this conversation, understand?"

"Yes." I respond to her, noticing her hesitation. I know I shouldn't, but I think I should still ask my dad about this.

Chapter 1~ The New Kid
"Tell me what you see, perfect paradise tearing at the seams..." Imagine Dragons sings to me through my earbuds.I have my favorite dark green hood up and my head down. The less I see others, the better. The less people that notice me the better too. It is bad enough being in highschool with the drama and rumors, but being the rumors isn't great either. Personally, I don't want to hear those whispers about "the stalker" or "weirdo," not that it actually bothers me. I just don't want to listen to their thoughts. I'm not a telepath, but for whatever the reason I'm cursed to see people's personal demons.

The demons, as I call them, show the person's worst hobbies, fears, thoughts, and habits. So not only can I see the demons and hear them, but I understand them too. I also can talk back to them in their own demonic language. I hate being able to do this, but it does help if there is a bully or someone wanting to fight me. All I have to do is give them a clue that I know some secret of their's and they back off. Since people have seen me do this though, the rumors started that I can read minds or I stalk people. Stupid right? So I try my best to avoid all people, not that it is hard to do.

I continue to walk down the semi-crowded hallway and listen to my music. I occasionally look up to see couples making out or groups of teens chatting about gossip in their lives in front of the pale blue lockers lining the left side of the hallway. I ignore them all as I head to Pre-Calc class. Class doesn't technically start for another 10 minutes but I like being there early so I can claim my seat in the far corner of the room and pretend to not exist. I know people won't bother me, in fact people barely seem to notice me.

As I quickly glance up from looking at the ground I can't help but notice a new kid on the right side of the hallway, in front the councillor's tan door. He has a dark, dull, red v-necked t-shirt on, a pair of denim shorts, some beat up red Converses, and a light gray jacket tied around his waist. The style says "I'm emo," but his attitude definitely doesn't scream that. He is practically jumping up and down with glee, similar to how a 5 year old might act when given a giant lollipop at a fair. I can't quite see his face from where I am but as I continue walking straight ahead I see him more clearly. His skin is pale, like he doesn't go out much, yet he has messy dirty blonde hair and these piercing gray eyes. I've seen gray eyes before, but these ones were different. They remind me of an early morning, just before the sun surpasses the horizon, and the cool gray of the sky. Or possibly the mist of a cool, tranquil lake. I have to shake myself out of my daze to realize what he is holding, his new schedule. I am slightly burning with curiosity for this boy, yet I hold myself back and continue to walk. I remember all the times I have been hurt and the last thing I want is that pain again.

_____________________________________________________________

Class has started and my teacher, Mr. John, is waiting for all the students to settle down before he announces the new kid. I can see that he is restraining himself from snapping, and cursing himself for becoming a teacher, in his head. Demons may not be all that fun but they sure can be interesting. It is like they have their own mind, well for the most part. Besides the traits the demon and person share, the demons do whatever they want. They kind of remind me of genies, how you can see their top half but their bottom is misty. Demons look basically like that, except they aren't blue, and don't sing. They just float above their person's head and chat about whatever they want with the other demons. They also appear very distinct from each other. Some can have broken halos, horns, wings, sunken faces, fire for eyes, and among other things. They act-

"Excuse me everyone," Mr. John calls out, "we have a new student today so if all of you would be respectful for at least a minute, the new student can come up, then we all can start our lesson. Understood? Good. Now, Mr. Gillian please come in here and introduce yourself." I see the new student open the door more, which I'm guessing it was slightly cracked before, and slipped into the classroom. I can tell he looks extremely nervous now, for all of the class's eyes are now on him. He walks from the doorway closer to the teacher's desk and clears his throat. "Um, hello? I'm Marx Gillian. I have always lived in this city, but this is my first time ever going to public-I mean, any school. So, um, it is nice to meet you all and I hope I can make- I mean, be friends with some of you." As he is talking I study him. He has his right hand on his left elbow and is constantly looking from the ground to the class. He is honestly actually cute. He even has a slight accent undertone to his speech, but I can't place it. Britain? New York? Somewhere else? Besides those small details something else bothers me about this guy. He looks normal, I mean as normal as an insanely cute guy can look (I need to stop thinking these thoughts, a relationship has never, and will probably never, work out for me). As I focus on him entirely I notice something, something I have only seen one other time and it rattles me to my core. He has no demon.

Chapter 2~ Of All the People...
I lean back in my seat and stare at the back of some kid's head. No demon. How is this physically possible? I am the only other person that I can't see their demon. Which I have always assumed it is because I can see demons and I wouldn't need one since I know what goes on in my head. So, can Marx be like me? Can he see demons? Am I not alone? Similar thoughts fly through my head until the logical voice in my head simply says, "Stop, don't do this to yourself. You are a nobody and you like it that way. If he is that curious he can come to you. Isn't it just easier to not befriend him when he is going to leave you anyway? Everyone else has, why shouldn't he. He is new to school anyway, there is a 99% he will follow everyone else's example and pretend to not see you." I wish to tell the voice to go away, but I know it is right.

Every new kid, every adult, every s i n g l e person I have come across usually doesn't stay long. In fact, the record was a week. A week was how long someone actually wanted to be my friend. I don't blame them though. I know that I'm a loner. I know that I'm emo according to other teens. I know that I am alone most often, that I don't talk much, that I listen to music 24/7, that I'm boring and stubborn and a hot-head. So I don't try to make friends, or hang out with people, heck be social in general. I like being alone, because being alone is better than being hurt. Anyway, where was I going with this? No one really wants to know my thoughts. So I keep quiet and look back at Marx.

He is standing there probably trying to figure out where to sit. I have three available seats around me, but he seems to get the message and he walks to the other side of the room to the only other open seat. The rest of class passes as a blur, because next thing I know the bell is ringing signifying that the period has ended. I reach down under my desk and grab my dark green backpack and sling it over my shoulder as I stand up. Most of the students have already left the room so I take a step toward the door when Mr. John calls me over to him. I roll my eyes as I walk between the rows of desks toward the front of the room. Mr. John is leaning against his desk with his dark arms crossed. To the right of him is Marx, of course. As I stand in front of him I pause my music and look back up. "Hello. Mr. Gillian this is Mr. Drew, Drew this is Gillian. I'm sure you both might be assuming why I called you over, so I'm going straight to the point. You will be tutoring Gillian." he says in a flat voice as he turns his head towards me. My voice sort of cracks as I ask him, "Why? I'm sure there are plenty of other students to tutor him. Plus, you know I don't get along with other students."

"I know you don't, but all of your's and his teachers agree that you're the best candidate to teach him. Don't deny that either. As far as I'm aware you might not have the best grades in your classes, but they are above average."

All I do is groan and mutter a simple "Fine," as I walk towards the door. I don't glance at Marx as I walk away, but I know he is following me. As soon as I walk through the doorway I stop and turn towards the left, where Marx is standing.

"Um, hello. I'm Marx and you are?" he asks me in a bright and cheery tone with an equally bright smile as he holds out his hand, waiting for a handshake I assume. I keep my hands in my hoodie pocket and say "Ian, do you have a phone?" His smile falters a bit as he moves his hand to his right back pocket to pull out a phone with a red marble case. "I do, do you want my number?"

"Uh, yeah. How else am I supposed to talk to you? I don't plan on staying in this prison more than I have to."

He gives me this confused look but unlocks his phone and starts spouting off his phone number. I quickly write it in my phone and put it away. I turn to leave and he says, “Wait how will I know if it is you texting me and not some spam?”

“You will know if it is me when I call you Mr. Ray of Sunshine,” I call while I start walking towards my next class. I have a slight smirk on my face but I let it fall. Seriously that kid is like a rainbow in a storm.