Swimming Through The Void (restoration)
Author: "Solus Nemo"
Summary: No one understood him, no one ever has. Issues and lies brought him to Degrassi, rage and angst flowed through his veins, and only the truth would mend his torn soul and broken wings. He's not what everyone thinks he is.
Rating: PG-13 (language, adult content, slash themes and references, derogatory terms)
Author's Note: In this story Degrassi Community High School is back up and running. Emma and her friends are in grade 10, Paige and her friends are in grade 11. This takes place way before Marco even came out to Spinner, come to think of it this story doesn't really have a place in the Degrassi time-line.
is a restoration! Slowly but surely each chapter will be fixed up and
Disclaimer: I do not own any band/television show/piece of literature that is mentioned in this story. This story is 100 false, maybe that's why it's called fiction. Also, I do not own any song that has a blip and/or chapter title in this story. I do own, however, any foreign characters.
Chapter One: Home (restored: July 20th, 2004)
If moving to another country wasn't culture shock enough, I just had to move to Canada. Ontario to be exact. I spent my whole life in Australia, I grew up in Sydney, and now I have to come here…How could something like this possibly be good for me? Whatever. I'm sure I'll be moving again in a few weeks. My own parents couldn't handle me, what makes these people think they can pour me into another mold? They're going to get a kick out of this: sending me to therapy and drowning me with everything I could possibly want.
I look over myself in the airport bathroom. My somewhat short, black hair is all over the place; the blue streak in it not where it should be. My pink eye shadow is worn and needs touching up, the spike through my chin could be a little shinier, my auburn eyes are the only offsetting thing against my pale face, and I notice that I need to shave. I recently upped the gages in my ears, causing the lobes to be red and buzzing with pain. A great way to make a fantastic first impression: look like one just escaped from a gay S&M club where snorting coke is an hourly thing.
My clothes are better off than my face at least. The black Dickies I'm wearing hang loosely and make my 6' 3" frame seem a few inches shorter (but the boots on my feet raise my height by two more inches, so that cancels that out), an old school black Anthrax tee-shirt covers all but the sleeves of a black fishnet shirt, a spiked watch is the only thing adorning my wrists, and two Death's head skull rings clad each of my middle fingers.
Deciding to look nice I dig a comb, eye shadow compact, and razor from one of my three bags. I run the comb through my hair, careful to place the chunk of blue closer to my left eye. Making a soap and water mixture, I quickly shave, wash my face, and redo my eye shadow. If you can picture that Hayden Christensen kid in the beginning of Life As a House…that would pretty much be me right about now.
I put everything back in its place and run out into the airport. I look around as I walk, seeing many people race around and very few with pieces of cardboard with names written on them. After ten minutes of searching, I finally see a 'Cyril Arrington' sign being held in the air. I walk over to the woman and set down my bags.
The middle aged, folksy, gray haired lady smiles at me. "Hello, Cyril. Did you have a nice flight?"
"Thirteen hours on a plane, high in the air, sitting in front of a screaming two-year-old…It was very nice," I reply sarcastically.
The woman laughs and extends her hand. "I'm Dana Karly. You may call me what you wish."
"Hey." I shake Dana's hand.
"We have a long drive ahead of us, we should get going. Let me help you with your bags," she states, picking up two of my bags and smiling at me. "I know that you're going to love it here. It's not Australia, but I imagine it's just as good."
I pick up the remaining bag and follow Dana as she begins to walk to the front of the airport. "The jet lag and reversed seasons are going to be the end of me," I huff.
Dana laughs. "You'll get used to it quickly. Look on the bright side: white Christmases."
"You have a point. I've only seen a white Christmas on the television."
We talk as we head through the clogged hallways. She really doesn't seem that bad, but I could be wrong. I've been in enough foster homes to know that a lot of people put on an act. One family sent me back the second I told them what my sexual orientation was. I've learned to tell people who am I right away, usually if they ask. Shocking people can be fun, but I hate to go overboard and cause a car crash or something…those aren't fun.
"You have an interesting look there, Cyril," Dana points out as we drive down the highway in the pouring rain.
"You don't like it."
Dana passes a Pinto, making me chuckle. The guy's driving it around like it's a classic, I guess he didn't get the memo that if he's hit from behind…blamo. "No, I like it. Not too many boys express themselves like that."
"It's like a trend now. Very sickening if you ask me," I reply.
I walk into a bedroom: tan walls and a weird, cozy vibe. "…And this is your room," Dana boasts. "You can change it around any way you like, I'm not too informed about what today's teenagers find hip."
It's a big room for an even bigger house; one of those houses that's too big to be a castle, but too small to be a mansion. The bedroom is mainly tan and forest green. Sooner or later I'll be able to fix it up and make it more…me. "It's nice." I have to compliment her, she's gone out of her way.
Dana smiles. "I'll let you get settled. You're starting at your new school on Monday: Degrassi Community High School. Dinner is at seven every night, which gives you two hours, and—we'll talk about this later."
She leaves and I look around. "So this is my new home…I wonder how long this one will last?"