Destroying

Timor slammed his head against the wall, then fell to his knees, trying to hold back his tears. Three shadows loomed over him, forcing him to look up. "Oh, what a weakling," smirked the first and biggest bully, the one who started it all. "Did ya think we'd be afraid of ya?" the second one sat down in front of Timor. "You tried to scare us with yo look, but it didn't work." "Enough," Timor said, tears already in his eyes. "I wasn't trying to scare anyone." "Shut up!" the second one slapped Timor sharply across the cheek. "Those eyes say otherwise!" "Why are you coddlin' him?" the first one asked with a sadistic look, putting his hand under his head. "If you had no family, we would've killed you," whispered the second bully, getting close to Timor's face. Timor's body shook. He tried to get up to run away from this place, but just as he started to rise, he was grabbed and pinned against the wall. "No! No, let me go!" Timor screamed in panic. "But ya're a monster. What are ya afraid of then?" the third bully finally spoke, lowering the red vape from his mouth. "I'm not a monster!" Timor shouted. The second one abruptly closed Timor's mouth. Timor became even more frightened. He wanted to resist, but there were two things that stopped him: resistance would confirm his words about the danger, resistance would provoke more bullying. "Come on, fight. Why'r ya pretending to be sweet and innocent?!" the first one said, already angry at Timor. "Please go away! Don't do anything to me!" Timor closed his eyes in fear. Laughter erupted from all three and then Timor could just hope for a miracle, hoping that they would leave him alone. There was a buzzing, or rather, vibration, from the phone. It was Timor's call, causing him to freeze in surprise. The second bully who was holding him also heard it and put his hand in the pocket of Timor's jeans, then pulled out his phone. There was a photo of Indonesia on the screen, and that guy is quite brazen and reacts to bullying in no other way than with reverse bullying, mostly mental. "Lookin' for ya, probably," the second one said, a little irritated, then handed the phone to Timor. "Tell 'im you're okay, or... next time there won't be a single livin' thin' left of you," he finished menacingly, looking at the younger boy with a frighteningly angry face. Timor was terrified of manipulation, terrified of blackmail, terrified that all this would leak from words into reality. To remain unharmed, he nodded. The phone vibrated again, and Timor picked it up. "Hello?" Timor barely said. "Ti-im, where are you now?" Indonesia asked with interest. "Just taking a stroll," Timor answered calmly, although he felt like bursting into tears. "I need you. I want to go for a walk with you!" the bicolor one said joyfully. "Oh, I... where exactly?" "We can meet in the park, I'm there right now. Let's meet in the park near the fountain." "Okay. I'll be right there." having said the last two words, Timor felt a sense of salvation. He hung up the phone and looked at the bullies. "Let me go if you don't want any trouble." "You've lost your nerve to talk to us like that?!" shouted the third bully, rolling up his sleeves. "Okay, kid. You're free for today. But expect trouble tomorrow." with each sentence, the leading bully of three's voice grew rougher, mocking, and quieter at the same time. Timor moved up and ran away. He could've asked for help, but he was afraid that the situation would get worse. He had heard stories many times where, because of the truth, bullying intensified, more people joined in, often under fourteen, to avoid being registered, without thinking about their parents. Timor feared the same would happen to him. With his heterochromia, especially its rare nature, he simply couldn't help but be the center of attention. Avoidance due to mistrust was enough, but offending him because of different eyes was too much. Timor ran to the park and tried to calm down. He caught his breath, wiped the tears from his eyes, and looked around. Ahead was the fountain that Indonesia had mentioned, and Indonesia himself was standing nearby, looking at something in the water. Timor was ready to approach him, hug him, and speak out, but fear prevented him. He approached Indonesia, pretending everything was normal. "Oh, you're already here," the older one smiled. "Let's go." he waved his hand to the side. Timor couldn't help but glance at his reflection in the water. His right eye was the main problem: the iris was completely black. It didn't affect his health or psyche, his character or actions, but many thought otherwise. Timor became enraged at his peculiarity. He swung his hand and struck the water with it. The reflection instantly blurred due to the "waves." Timor ran after Indonesia, which had already retreated a few meters. “Where are we going?” Timor asked. "We'll take a walk in the park for now," Indonesia replied with a smile. "Okay." Timor looked down. Indonesia led Timor straight ahead, telling him something. Timor always felt somehow needed around him. Even if there were occasional misunderstandings between them, Indonesia wasn't a bully and didn't get on Timor's nerves. Indonesia and Timor stopped near a small forest that served as a border of sorts. Timor had never ventured there, as going alone would be too costly. "Shall we go there?" Indonesia asked, turning to Timor. Timor nodded silently. At least if he was with Indonesia, everything would be fine. They both entered the woods. Timor felt strange. It was a secluded place, just him and Indonesia, no one else. Strange scenarios began to pop into his head, involving the murder of one of the brothers. Timor even became frightened by his own imagination and tried to remain positive. He and Indonesia walked straight ahead, looking around. Indonesia occasionally joked about the place, but fortunately for Timor, it didn't reach the point of black humor, and he found it amusing. Timor smiled and even forgot anything had happened to him. Indonesia suddenly stopped and leaned against a tree. "It feels like everythin' here's the same," Indonesia said, looking to the right. "Maybe." Timor shrugged. "Hmm..." The bieyed man turned his head to the side. He became curious about what would happen next. "I think we better go back," Indonesia looked in the direction from which he and Timor had come. Timor looked at his brother with bewilderment. “Maybe we should go further?” Timor suggested. "What if it's dangerous there?" Indonesia smiled, raising one eyebrow. "You're still too young for places like this." "What? I'm not little!" Timor protested slightly. "But younger than me," Indonesia added, standing in front of Timor. Timor crossed his arms in an offended manner and turned his head to the left, closing his eyes. Indonesia chuckled and walked closer to Indonesia. "Okay, let's go." Indonesia took the younger one by the hand. "Especially since it's almost lunchtime." Timor nodded silently. Indonesia, humming, led him back to the exit of the forest. After the mention of age, Timor felt sad. It was mentioned everywhere, usually in the company of bullies. "By the way, where were you walking without me?" Indonesia asked. "Oh, just... I didn't even know where," Timor replied, sadly looking to the left. He didn't want to remember the latest bullying he'd endured. "Weren't you bored?" the red-and-white asked, raising one eyebrow curiously. "Personally, I was bored as hell without you." bicolor looked straight ahead, lowering both eyebrows. "I was bored too, but... I just wanted to be alone," Timor said, not looking at his brother. "I see. I just had no one to talk to. Malay and Phil were busy, and Singa's hard to get outside anyway." Timor nevertheless turned his gaze to Indonesia, saying: "He has his reasons for this." Indonesia nodded reluctantly. Finally, he and Timor emerged from the woods. Indonesia pulled himself up and looked at the sky. It was covered in gray clouds, and the sun was invisible. "Usually so innocently before it rains," Indonesia joked. "But never mind, we were on our way home anyway." "Yeah. And we'll go for a walk some more later?" "Of course! Don't worry about it." Timor smiled. He always smiled like an angel, kind and sweet. He was just as angelic in nature: kind, understanding, and not easily offended. Timor and Indonesia walked home. At one point, Indonesia ran ahead, beckoning the younger one to follow him, and he did so. The running only stopped when they reached the entrance. They both caught their breath and then went up the stairs to the desired floor. «Now I’m safe…» Timor thought to himself. Indonesia unlocked the door with his key and then swung it open. Malaysia and Philippines were right down the hall, and both turned toward the apartment entrance with a soft cry. "Oh, Indo, Tim!" Malaysia shouted with a smile, approaching the newcomers. "They are!" Indonesia put one hand on her chest, the other extended to the side. "How're you here? Did you miss us?" "I’m like a fish in water without y-," Malaysia began, but Philippines covered his mouth with his hand and said: "Of course, Indo" Timor walked toward the bathroom. He went in and started washing his hands. His thoughts became fixated on those bullies and their comments about age. For some reason, this began to irritate him a little. He looked at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He wanted to punch the glass, but this wasn't his apartment, he didn't live alone, and he didn't want to show his pain. Timor turned off the water and left the bathroom. "So, where've you been, Indo?" the Philippines asked, turning to the red-white one. "Oh, just went into the forest with Tim," he answered cheerfully. "Where? Into the forest?" Malaysia asked, barely holding back his laughter. Indonesia nodded in response. "Okay, but why did you take Tim? He's still little," the moonlight one chuckled. "He's not little, Malay," the Philippines argued. "He's already a teenager." "Wait, really? Oh, I forgot." Malaysia said awkwardly. "His birthday was two days ago, you've forgotten already?" Indonesia was indignant. "They're too many of us, of course I forgot," Malaysia justified himself. "Although he's still too small." "It's not age that matters, but intelligence." the Philippines tapped his head with his finger. "Well, yeah... exactly." Malaysia looked away. "Here Singa's smarter than all of us, and younger than me. "What was I about?" the Philippines asked. Indonesia chuckled and then looked at Timor. He noticed that he looked somewhat sad and was looking intently at Malaysia. Indonesia wasn't stupid enough to realize that Malaysia had said too much. Timor, without a word, went into the kitchen. Yes, Malaysia's words have truly upset him. Timor entered the kitchen and his gaze suddenly fell on the knife. Horrific images of someone being killed with this knife kept popping into his head. Indonesia was the first who popped into his head as the victim, then Malaysia, and finally the Philippines. Timor recoiled with fear in his eyes. He couldn't understand where such thoughts had come from. But remembering what he had experienced, all questions disappeared. Timor was mocked in so many ways: they joked about his age, talked about his eyes, intimidated and beat him, laughed at because of his appearance, and threats were a frequent occurrence. Shaking off the memories, Timor picked up the knife from the table and tossed it aside. The knife clattered to the floor, and Indonesia followed suit. "Tim, is everything okay?" he asked worriedly. "Yes, Indo. Everything's fine," Timor said, trying to control himself. Indonesia walked up to the knife and picked it up. He didn't understand what was happening, but something made him nervous. He put the knife away. "Okay, Phil already made somethin' to eat," Indonesia said, joining his palms. "we'll eat now." Timor sat down at the table and thought. «Why's there not a single stranger who'd accept me? They're all... all afraid of me, angry at me... why? Why're my eyes like that? Maybe it was bad enough without that. I'm too weak.… and too little...» Indonesia placed a bowl of soup in front of Timor. Timor snapped out of his thoughts, smelling the delicious aroma. "Tim, don't be sad," Indonesia said, placing his hand on Timor's shoulder. "Yes, Malay said too much, but... it happens to everyone." «Is he protecting him?» Timor thought. "Malay himself's not an adult," said Indonesia. "And neither am I." Timor sighed, trying to clear the resentment from his face. “I’m not little!” Indonesia sat down in front of Timor. He looked at him, but wanted to look him in the eyes, because he sensed something was wrong. Timor felt Indonesia's gaze on him and tried to pretend he had calmed down. He "calmly" began to eat, thinking about his own business again. "Okay, maybe I'm wrong," Malaysia said to the Philippines as he entered the kitchen. "But Timor's still too small for me. Although I don't see anything wrong with that." Timor looked at Malaysia with a little surprise, and Malaysia shrugged and walked over to the stove. "Yes, Tim's still a baby, but at least he's not younger than me," Indonesia frowned. "Well, yes. The difference's actually quite small," Malaysia continued, helping himself to a serving of soup, then turned and looked at Indonesia. "Oh, nevermind." Indonesia leaned back in his chair and looked to the right. "No offense." "I'm not offended." Indonesia looked at Malaysia. Philippines walked into the kitchen and closed the door. He walked up to Timor and patted him on the head. He said: "Don't listen to Malay, he just doesn't know who you're inside." "Yes. I can already imagine China saying the same thing," Malaysia said jokingly. Malaysia sat down at the table and began to eat. Timor had already eaten everything by this moment and, taking his empty plate, stood up from the table and went to the sink. He turned on the water and began to wash the plate, then the spoon. "Oh, damn," Philippines said suddenly, causing Timor to turn off the water to listen to him. "It turns out we're out of milk... and bread. Malay!" The Philippines turned to Malaysia. "I asked you to go to the store yesterday!" "So what I did?" Malaysia put his hands behind his head, looking at the elder one. "I went, but the store was closed. I thought: 'Okay, I'll go tomorrow, Phil won't notice anyway.'" "Okay. You should've just said so," Philippines calmed down. He wasn't even angry, just indignant. It would take a murder to make him angry. "We can go to the store now." Indonesia said, getting up from the table. "Indo, you haven't finished eating yet!" Malaysia said with a stern face. "Okay, okay." Indonesia sat back down at the table, smiling awkwardly. “Maybe I'll go?” Timor asked. “If you want,” Philippine smiled. "The wallet is on the nightstand in the hallway," Indonesia said. Timor nodded and left the kitchen. He mentally praised himself like, "how mature and responsible I am." Taking his wallet, Timor put on his shoes and left the apartment. It's funny that the most basic ingredients are gone, but the soup ingredients are still there. However, MaPhilIndo's always bustling, and one can only envy them. Timor ran out of the entrance and ran towards the store. As he walked there, he thought about his eyes. He didn't need more stares. The only thing that came to mind was to literally cover his eye with his hand, so people would simply think he had eye problems or something. Timor reached the store, took a deep breath, then a quiet exhale and went inside. He had been here a couple of times, but only with someone, and he walked with his head down so that no one would see his different eyes, but it was enough to remember where everything was. Timor's gaze began to search for the necessary products. He picked up the bread closest to the entrance, then some high-fat milk. Timor was about to go to the checkout when he decided to check the wallet. Leaving his groceries on a small table, Timor took out his wallet and opened it. He froze in awe, unsure what to do. He didn't have enough, he didn't have enough at all, but without it he couldn't pay properly. He could've left everything in place and quickly returned home for money, but something kept him in place. Timor rummaged through the wallet to make sure there was no money missing, then lowered his hands slightly, letting out a silent breath. Suddenly, someone approached him. Timor looked up. "Boy, did somethin' happen?' asked a guy of about eighteen. “I, well… I don’t have enough money,” Timor answered honestly, looking down at the wallet in his hands. "How many?" "20 rubles." The next second, the guy took two ten-ruble coins out of his pocket and gave them to Timor. "I wanted to spend it on myself, but it’s more important to you," the guy said with a gentle smile. "Thank you." Timor smiled involuntarily. He hadn't expected it, but he was glad that he got help. "By the way... what's with your eye?" "Uh... i-it doesn't matter. It's personal." Timor said only this and then hurried away. He picked up the goods left on the table and went to the checkout. When the items were scanned, Timor paid for them and quickly left the store. He lowered his head and opened his right eye. On his way back home, he noticed a random alley. Indonesia was in there. Timor was even scared, not expecting to see him on the street. "Oh, hi, Tim!" Indonesia said. "Hi" Timor smiled sweetly. "Whatcha doing here?" "I decided to go for a walk. But since I met you, lemme help." Timor nodded, approving of his brother's help. Indonesia picked up a carton of milk, then said: "You did a great job for your age, Tim." Timor felt good in his soul. He said quietly: "Thanks" Suddenly, footsteps were heard behind. Timor turned around. He saw the guy who'd helped him. "Oh! Hi, Brunei!" Indonesia said joyfully. Timor wouldn't have been nervous if he knew he was going to meet him, but he didn't know and his right eye was open. It became clear to Timor that Indonesia and this Brunei know each other, but what'll be the reaction to his eye?! He didn't have to think long. Brunei approached Timor and saw this stark difference in the eyes: black and red. "Oh my God, what's wrong with your eye? Is it dangerous?" the elder one said worriedly. However, because of this anxiety, especially after hearing the question about danger, Timor felt terrible again. Was it possible that another person would be afraid of this or be angry at his eyes? "No, Brunei. It's not dangerous," Indonesia said calmly, smiling. Brunei breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Otherwise, I thought that he had a vision problem 'cause of it. Glad it's not dangerous for him." Then Timor was surprised. Was Brunei worried specifically about him? Was he thinking of something other than mythology? Timor hadn't expected this, so he almost cried with happiness. "What could happen to him?" Indonesia rolled his eyes. "Timor sees perfectly well" "Ah, so you were tellin' me 'bout this Timor?" Brunei asked with a smile. "He's very cute. I wish I had a brother like him." "Really?" Timor was surprised. "Of course!" Indonesia patted Timor on the back, saying: "I knew he'd like you." Timor looked at Indonesia, then at Brunei. There he was, the one who hadn't judged Timor's eyes. Timor didn't know him, he was a stranger to him, but that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted to meet a stranger who wouldn't judge his appearance. Malaysia and the Philippines didn't see any problem in this, and Indonesia has long since gotten used to Timor's peculiarity. There was perhaps a misunderstanding with Singapore, but the beatings, insults and other things were from other teenagers who were much older than Timor. Timor waited. Before him stood a man who didn't see him as a monster. "Can I go with you?" Brunei asked. "Yes," Indonesia and Timor answered simultaneously. Brunei nodded. Timor thought he'd like to get to know him better and even become friends, even though he had some misgivings, but his usual childish shyness kept him silent. The three of them were already heading home at a brisk pace. Indonesia and Brunei were talking as if they'd known each other for years. Timor didn't know why he hadn't been told about Brunei, but he was glad it turned out to be a good one. In the entrance hall, having reached the apartment from the first floor, Indonesia finished his conversation with Brunei and Timor, then opened the door. "Indo, you'll continue to go back and-" Malaysia wanted to say, but noticed Brunei and asked: "Brunei... what you're doing here?" "I met this Timor of yours and decided to go with him," Brunei replied, pointing his finger at Timor. "Finally, you meet." Malaysia rolled his eyes, smiling. "Yes." Timor took off his shoes and went into the kitchen. There, he put the milk in the fridge. His gaze fell on the knife again. Those scenarios came back to him. Timor pressed himself against the wall, trying to understand what was happening to him. He never thought about violence, but here it was, for the third time today. "You're finally back from vacation," came the Philippines' voice. Philippines was clearly speaking to Brunei. "Yes. I decided not to mention it right away, but when I met Indo on the street, I changed my mind," Brunei said. "I see. Glad you're back," said Philippines. "You finally met Timor." "This Timor is very good. You can tell he's tryin' to be himself. Although... his right eye definitely isn't hurtin' him.?" Timor quietly peeked out from the kitchen. Philippines looked at Brunei with confusion at his question, but answered calmly: "Of course not." "He just closed it in the store." Philippines was already surprised. He looked down thoughtfully. "So I thought maybe he was in pain?" "It's probably just his eye pinched." "Well... yeah. Maybe he got somethin' in his eye. But for some reason he got scared when I asked about it." Philippines has retreated. "Uh... maybe he was just shy to show his heterochromia?" "It's okay." Timor closed the kitchen door. He looked to the left. He couldn't let anyone know he was afraid to show his different eyes because of bullying. He walked to the window and looked down at the passersby and cars. «Brunei... Brunei looked friendly. I need to befriend him. If I have to tell the truth, he'll be my support, right?» Timor has set a new goal: to befriend Brunei.