Sven hugged himself tighter, tight enough to hurt. He listened quietly from the back room, and wondered when this would be over.
Not just the day, being here in the shop. But the way life was now, constantly being passed on from family to family like dirty laundry that nobody wanted, that nobody would ever want.
"Yes Mr. Matthews." Sven mumbled, watching his shoes. He did his best to try and pretend Nate wasn't there, being angry at him, but it still made him squirm.
Sven glanced up as Nate rode off, watching with a sad expression. It wasn't his usual blank, unreadable face. It was a sad, helpless, confused expression. A vulnerable expression.
Sven looked away from Nate's retreating back and sloowly started to climb onto his borrowed bike. His face had gone back to being unreadable.He glanced over at Mr. Matthews. "I-I'm...I'm sorry...." He mumbled softly, not looking up.
"I'm a burden...." Sven mumbled inaudibly, mostly to himself. He pulled on the helmet, not looking up to meet Mr. Matthew's eyes.
Sven watched Mr. Matthews pedal off for a moment before he actually started moving himself.
Sven let out a tiny little huff as he slowly started to pedal along, a sad slump to his shoulders as he moved along. His heart twisted with a little pang.
If only he meant that....
Sven was slow going home. He felt so heavy, so slow. He tried to keep his head lowered as much as he could without crashing over.
Sven rolled up to the house a lot later than the others. He carefully rolled the bike into th garage, pulling off the helmet.
He sighed softly, sadly, wearily. He reluctantly started to move towards the house, shuffling his feet slowly and watching the ground.
Sven shuffled inside the house, silently, carefully. He started to move down the hall, to the bedroom. He kept his eyes downward, staring at the floor.
He stepped into the bedroom and paused, glancing at Nate before ducking his eyes away. He walked over to the bed and wordlessly started to pick up his sketchbooks.
Sven flinched under his words. He didn't say anything though, he just stared at the floor and held his little pile of battered sketchbooks to his chest.
He started to back away.
Sven was silent, just standing there for a moment, clutching his books of drawings tightly to his chest.
He was used to be unwanted, disliked, even hated. But it still stung, and it stung deep.
He let out a shuddering breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding in and sat down carefully on the bottom bunk.
"Just go." Sven whispered, squeezing his books harder against his chest, hard enough to hurt. He closed his eyes and lowered his head. "Go. I know I'm not wanted."
I never am...
Sven was silent for a moment, just sitting there with his sketchbooks pressed into him, staring at his lap and at his worn out dark jeans.
"Fine." He finally mumbled, not looking up. His shoulders slumped forward a little more.
Sven frowned silently under his hair. But he carefully stood up and gingerly set his sketchbooks down on the bed, except the very smallest one, which he slid into his pocket, along with a pencil.
He held the hat in his hand, staring at it uncertainly, even as he went to obediently scoop up the container he had been told to.
Sven shuffled reluctantly after Nate, watching the ground as he walked. He followed Nate, not even really looking up at him.
Sven shifted uneasily as he eyed the boat. He bit his lower lip and frowned, but obediently held out the box to Nate.
Sven eyed the boat a little more, frowning doubtfully to himself as his gaze slowly flicked over it. He stood there for a moment, shifting nervously before he reluctantly started to step forward.
Sven hugged himself uneasily as the boat choked to life. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to look at the water or at the boat that felt so flimsy under him.
Sven took the pole nervously, staring at it doubtfully. He blinked a few times, frowning even deeper. He watched Nate silently, holding the pole uncertainly.