There was plenty of time to think. Plenty of time to mull over actions and things said and done. Harley, however, wasn't quite fond of that kind of solitude; he wanted to be busy and alone, not alone with nothing to do. Stuck inside his own mind was a venture Harley took to great lengths to avoid. Things he didn't want to look back on made a home in there, nestled deep inside his subconscious where he'd loathe to find them. The only respite that Harley appreciated and that worked for him were times spent reading, studying, working, whatever he could do that was far away from people and far away from himself.
Harley isolated himself completely from social and personal interaction.
When he heard about this particular field day, Harley couldn't help the overwhelming sense of dread that surged through him. A day designed for the purposes of interacting, bonding, whatever they wanted to call it. Harley called days like this a living nightmare and he'd plenty of nightmares to distinguish them from real life, but this skirted pretty close to that threshold. This was free time for other kids, but for him it was like a sadistic test. Let's force the boy who can make people murder each other to suppress himself and his powers and overload him with further stress and anxiety. At least, that's how he took it. Some of the other teachers may have wanted something different, but forcing Harley to do something usually didn't benefit anyone. It just worked to further harm himself, rather than other people. There was nothing noble about being so scared of yourself that you have to shove everything inside, all at once, to keep from having it explode in blood and gore.
So, naturally, Harley found the darkest area in the building, or as dark as it was going to get with the enormous TV screen or projector, he didn't bother checking, displaying its intense, colorful light onto the array of seats. The motion picture roaring on the wall was at the discretion of the first person who entered, or at least a vote if people wanted to be democratic. Harley had entered first and took out what was previously playing,
The Hangover (boy did he like Bradley Cooper in that), and inserted
Night of the Living Dead, a classic, from the library of movies in the walk in closet near the projector—he corrected his thoughts prior. After everything was said and done, Harley traversed through the corridors avoiding people until he hit the kitchen where he found a large bowl of ice cream, some fudge, and a bunch of strawberries. This was supposed to be the kid's night, so he didn't bother with sharing his Cookie Crumble with anyone else, taking the entire container of food and condiments and stuck a spoon in his mouth before walking back to the home theater.
Hopefully, everyone would be too hyped up on sugar and whatever else to come in, sit down, and relax with him. People doing crazy things to burn off all their teenage energy before winding down to watch a movie would be everything falling into place, as by then he'd have the opportunity to slip past everyone, find a cozy place, and relax whilst they all made a ruckus anywhere but where he was. That'd be perfect. Mhm. But, it probably wouldn't happen, so, as he set everything down and grabbed a warm blanket from the closet in the hallway, Harley did his best to blend into the corner he scooted himself in, remote in hand, and hit play. People would be too focused on the movie to notice him in his nook, gorging himself on a bucket of ice cream nearly spilling over with fudge sauce and strawberries.
A soft hum escaped his lips as the cold and way too sweet treat hit his taste buds. He'd not jinx himself, but this wasn't too bad of a start. And now that thought would most likely, utterly doom the rest of his evening until he was running mad for the exit. He'd walk back to the damn mansion if he had to, but God forbid that happen. Harley shook his head of the thoughts, replacing it with a large scoop of cookie crumble and a brain freeze that swiftly followed.
