Page 23 of We May Be Fractured

The larger of the two guys stepped forward, sneering at Aaron. “What’s this, then? Scarface to the rescue? Mate, Halloween’s been and gone.” He gestured rudely at Aaron’s scars.

Aaron clenched his fists, ready to strike, but Landon stepped in front of him.

“Got a problem here?”

“Yeah,” the guy said, “with the guy behind you.”

“Listen up.” Landon’s tone dropped, a clear warning in his words. “Back off, or you’ll regret it. I’m not warning you twice.”

“Could say the same to you.”

“Sure, but only one of us should worry about not listening,” Landon said, now cold as steel.

Maeve called out from the background, “Trust me, you don’t want to mess with him.

Look at this.” She held up her phone, showing a video of Landon taking on a guy much larger than him.

Despite the size difference, Landon held his own, landing punch after punch with surprising fury. “Not a pretty sight, is it?”

The bloke gulped, visibly unnerved. After a tense moment, he mumbled something under his breath and walked away.

Aaron turned to Landon, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened, seeing Landon in such an intimidating mode new to him. Was this the reason for the ‘psycho’ nickname? “Hey, I didn’t need you to step in. I could’ve handled them.”

“Sure, you could,” Landon replied.

“I was about to punch that guy.”

Landon closed the distance between them, his Docs inches from Aaron’s trainers. “And then what? Would it have changed anything?”

As Aaron’s anger cooled, confusion crept in. He’d expect this kind of concern from Aunt Olivia, but Landon? “Well, it would’ve given him a lesson, like you did with that bloke in the video.”

Landon’s expression softened. “That…that was a different story, one I don’t want to repeat. Do you think hitting that guy would’ve taught him anything?”

“Well, it might make him think twice before shooting his mouth off next time.”

“Maybe,” Landon conceded, more softly now. “But you can’t beat up all the dickheads that bother you. There’s too many.”

“So, you’re telling me to just take it? To let them get away with it?”

“No.” Landon shook his head gently. “It’s not about letting anyone off but choosing your battles wisely. Some people aren’t worth your time or energy. Save your strength for the fights that really matter.”

Aaron’s thoughts drifted back to the heated argument he’d overheard between Nyle and Luzanne about the accusation that Landon had hit their ex-housemate, who also happened to be Luzanne’s ex.

Had Landon intervened on behalf of Luzanne back then?

He’d mentioned that their ex-housemate was a pathological liar with a gambling habit, maybe even using Luzanne’s money.

Had Landon stuck to his ‘choose your battles’ philosophy in that situation too?

“What did that wanker say anyway?” Landon asked.

“Oh, just some rubbish about Nyle’s clothes.”

“And to you?”

Aaron paused, then pointed to the scars on his face. “Nothing new. Another comment about these.”

Landon studied the scars briefly, his face giving nothing away. Then, with a slight nod, he headed towards the exit, a pack of cigarettes in his hand. Aaron watched him go. Was this his cue to follow him?

“Hey,” Nyle called out. “Sorry about all that mess.”

Aaron turned to face him. “You don’t have to apologise. But seriously—” He looked at Nyle’s bold outfit. “—ever thought about toning it down? The clothes and stuff?”

Nyle’s eyes popped, clearly taken aback by Aaron’s words, seemingly more so than by the earlier confrontation. “What, this?” He gestured at himself. “This is who I am, Aaron. I’m not hiding it.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No, listen. It took me ages to get here. Wearing boring tees and jeans? Been there, done that. But it was like slapping concealer on a zit—pointless.” Behind him, Maeve agreed.

“This is me being true to myself. Can’t and won’t change for others.

Didn’t do it for my parents; won’t do it for anyone. ”

“But you’ll keep getting crap for it, won’t you?”

“I don’t care,” Nyle continued. “The thing is, I wasn’t born to fit in. I was born to stand out.” He laughed. “Plus, if I tone it down, what about those who need to see someone like me shining?”

Aaron studied Nyle with a newfound respect. He’d never considered the deeper meaning behind Nyle’s fashion choices. “You’re braver than I gave you credit for.”

Nyle flashed a playful wink. “So, does this mean you’ll finally sleep with me?”

“Err…not a chance.”

With a dramatic sigh, Nyle turned to Maeve. “Well, your loss,” he quipped as they sauntered off.

Still feeling on edge, Aaron stepped outside. There, in a dimly lit corner, he found Landon against the wall, two cigarettes in hand. Without a word, Landon offered one to Aaron, who gratefully took it.

Side by side, they leaned against the cool brick, smoking in sync. The rhythmic puffs of smoke helped calm Aaron, though his hands still shook slightly.

“Hey,” he said, breaking the silence. “Thanks for stepping in back there.”

Landon glanced over, his features softening under the neon light. “Didn’t do it for thanks . No one should have to put up with that sort of crap, especially not for how they look.”

Landon’s voice held something that hinted at more than just general empathy. This wasn’t the first time Aaron felt like Landon spoke from personal experience.

“Sounds like you’ve been through it yourself,” Aaron said.

Landon took a drag, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve had my fair shares of labels growing up.

I was the poor kid, the Black kid, the foster kid.

Even got a pretty creative nickname at this posh, mostly white boarding school.

‘Hovis Best of Both’.” He gestured to himself.

“You know, ’cause I’m half white, half Black. ”

“They bullied you for that?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? I was always with white families, so when I went to that school, I didn’t even think about being ‘not white enough’ or ‘not Black enough’ until they pointed it out.

Perspective, right?” Landon looked straight at him, a hint of irony in his tone.

“Green eyes didn’t help either. They made me stick out even more. ”

Aaron studied those eyes, finding them captivating rather than odd, even if their exact shade eluded him. “What do you mean?”

Landon shrugged. “Made me a curiosity, I guess. Some were intrigued, others not so much.”

Aaron nodded, the feeling of being an outsider, a curiosity, all too familiar.

“Did they make it tough for you at school too?” Landon asked.

“Not exactly.” Aaron touched one of the scars on his face. “But after the accident, I wasn’t just Aaron anymore; I was ‘the scarred guy’. It’s weird how one thing can become your entire identity to others.”

“Because people tend to focus on what’s different, not what’s the same. Makes them uncomfortable, I suppose. But it’s their problem, not ours.”

“Sometimes, I wish my scars weren’t so obvious. It’s like I’m walking around with a sign saying Hey, look at me. I’m fucked up .”

Landon flicked his cigarette, ashes falling near Aaron’s shoes. “Don’t give those scars too much credit. There’s something fucked up about you, scars or no scars.”

“Cheers,” Aaron replied dryly.

“I see survival marks. You shouldn’t be ashamed of them.”

Aaron mumbled something, not too much convinced. “It’s hard not to feel defined by them. They’re always there, always a reminder.”

“True, but they don’t write your whole story.”

“It’s not a great story anyway.”

Landon’s eyes met his. “You’re interesting, Aaron. More than you realise.”

“I don’t think I’m interesting.”

“And I think you don’t quite understand what it means to be interesting ,” Landon said with a faint smile. He crushed his cigarette underfoot and headed back inside.

Aaron stood there, pondering Landon’s words.

He’d been called interesting before, but he’d never paid much attention. Coming from Landon, it struck a different chord.

Was it a simple observation or something more? And why did he care?