by Violet Moon
The life (thus far) of a British boy who moved to America.
|On a rainy afternoon late in October of 1998, Darion came into the world, as silent as a flower, born as the first and only child to a wealthy British family in Kent, England. The Frasers, Kathrine and Christopher, had mixed views about parentage, or rather, one had a lack of it — Kathrine didn't seem to want the little boy at all, and distanced herself from him. Apparently, being 'mom' was enough for her and she had no time to waste on a baby. Her fashion empire wouldn't run itself. It was Christopher who had raised him for the most part. At a staggering 6'10", the watchmaker towered over his son, but that big man had a big heart, and little Darion lived as a spoiled prince for much of his childhood. Young and impressionable, he made his mind up about his parents rather quickly: He loved and idolized Christopher, and despised his mother for, well, not being much of a mother, and more like an unneeded person in his life that he was forced to live under the same roof as. Darion often got out of having to be under the same roof as his mother when he was deemed old enough to accompany his father to work at his watchmaking shop. The boy was fascinated with how Christopher was able to turn small and complicated parts that held no meaning other than scrap metal when separated into something so beautiful. A golden watch he gave to his wife, whom he loved dearly.
He started his first year of primary school at age four, his fifth birthday almost a month after school started. Life was brutal for him all through his school career, and it was no fault of his. Darion had been born with snow-white hair, a trait passed down from a grandfather on his father's side he never knew, and was constantly picked on because of it. Despite the bullies that would make fun of his hair on a daily basis and find other, more creative ways to pick on him as time wore on, he was the top student all through primary school, and had a passion for history and poetry, often writing poems aimlessly or reciting random historical events to his father at random. It wasn't until the first year of secondary school (or Year 7) when things went a bit too far down the hill for him.
A month after Darion's twelfth birthday, Kathrine fell gravely ill, and he didn't understand why. She had always been distant from him, and honestly, he only half-cared about the whole ordeal, but for his father's sake he at least tried to appear worried when in the man's company. On the day she died, they were in her bedroom, tension, worry and a looming sense of death thick in the air. After a while, she gestured for Darion to stand beside her bed. With a trembling hand, she removed the watch from her wrist and attached it on her son's, apologizing for never being there for him or for being the mother he deserved. “Give it to someone who needs it more than you do,” she said with a soft, trembling breath. That sentence held her last breath. The mother he never really knew, he'd never see alive on the Earth again.
He took the death with an abnormally low amount of grief, which infuriated his father. Seeing the love of his life die before his eyes, it really took a toll of Christopher, and in the confusion and anger he felt welling in his heart, the watchmaker took to drinking to solve it. Darion’s father began to slowly turn into a monster to run from: it started with raising his voice at random. Beating. Starving. Even as far as dragging broken glass from shattered wine bottles across his son’s skin, mainly his arms and neck. By the end of it, Darion thought for sure he’d be better off without a home at all. No father to beat him, no aura of dead mother. In a way, he got his wish. After several threats from Children’s Services, Christopher got over his drinking, but that still didn’t repay the fact he still treated Darion like a dog bred for dogfighting. Eventually, Christopher couldn’t stand living in England for a moment longer. On the night of his son’s half-birthday, the watchmaker fled England, for Switzerland, leaving his only child behind.
Darion, being incredibly quiet and shy as a kid, didn’t breathe a word of this to another living soul. However, news of this spread like wildfire and soon it was all anyone talked about. He couldn’t avoid it. The bullies, they found this a new advantage to milk beyond the point it hurt. Lucky for the white-haired boy, his history teacher Miss Jade, who was a cocky type of woman who everyone knew better than to disobey, put an end to it. After class one day she had him stay behind, making him talk. It was the most he’d cried in a long time. She took him to her home, sheltering him and he came to admire her in both a kind educator and a strong motherly woman. Miss Jade said he could stay as long as he needed to…
Until a prestigious, private academy in London sent her a letter, offering her the position of History Professor, a job she couldn’t refuse. Miss Jade left a week after she replied via the post office, eagerly agreeing to it. It was a big step for her in her educator career. With all big steps, one must leave the previous one behind, and since she never legally adopted Darion as her son… she couldn’t take him with her. Just like that, Darion was homeless once again, not a cent of money to his name. He though he could work to pay for food and shelter and things, but no one would hire a shy 12 year old.
One night, as he sat in a dead-end alley on a old mattress someone had thrown out, four figures came to him, three of them sporting black hair. The one that wasn't black-haired was blonde, and went by the name Kian. Kian, along with the other boys (all in their late teens), took him by the hand, and helped him out, feeling sorry for him and relating to his story. They taught him the Art of Being a Thief, though throughout the years he was with them, he didn't like stealing and was bad at it. He did it, with the mindset of someone doing whatever it took to survive. Kian and the other boys became the brothers he never had, and although they had all dropped out of school, they compelled him to finish his schooling so at least one of the five had a shot at a normal life.
It was during Year 9 that Daniel came into Darion's life, and the white-haired boy fell hard for him. Even with his secret stealing lifestyle, he crushed on Daniel like the girls in his year would crush on him. Daniel and Darion became close friends over the span of two years, and during Year 11 they had their first sleepover, which would forever change Darion's life.
February 13th, the night before Valentine's Day. The two were watching a Harry Potter movie marathon. Darion had almost worked up the nerve to kiss Daniel, when a girl entered the living room. Jet black hair down to her waist and a look that reminded him of a dragon in a child's storybook - Elizebeth. She sat between him and Daniel, and the latter wrapped his arm around her shoulder, proceeding to kiss her passionately. Daniel had a girlfriend, and Darion left the house while they finished the movie, crying. His heart shattered that night: he never did get quite over it. Other cute and interesting guys passed through his life, but he wasn't close to them like he was to Daniel.
A good three years passed by with little interruptions. Kian told him that the watch he wore every chance he got was worth two thousand British pounds ($2,700), and after Darion got his diploma for graduating, he took the graduate aside as told him he should go to America. England was no longer a place for him - Darion had wronged here and gotten his heart broken, became a hollow shell of what he used to be. America would offer a clean slate for him. It then occurred to him that Kian was the wayward son of a family that had been a good friend of his, back when his mother was still alive; the Goodwell family was richer than the Frasers. When Kian's mother and father had passed away, Kian decided to give all of the trillions of pounds he inherited to Darion as a farewell gift, and sent him to America to his family's old vacation home.
Darion turned 19 in America a month after he moved, and for that fact, he's glad. Now again rich, Darion decided to change his way of life. He no longer had a reason to steal, so he didn't, and this is where he invented a game called "Guess My Age", so he could make some new friends. However, he never told them his true age, and when they found him evasive and still a bit shy despite his rapidly growing childish personality, they didn't bother with him. He was alone - he lived alone, shopped alone, lived his whole day without really talking to anyone. His life in The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave wore on, at least, until a certain Diamond-eyed thief came into the picture.