Disclaimer: I earn no money with this story and I do not intend to. All characters mentioned in here like 'Yves' belong to Joss Stirling. Only this variation of 'Yves' is from my own imagination.

Yves- Just a boy

Another line there. Perfect. A tree on a piece of paper. Beautifully drawn.

Sometimes he did that, just drawing in the quiet of the nature. Well, if you could ever call the nature quiet, it was always whispering things to you when you were only willed to listen.
Yves liked the silence. Maybe because he never could have it at home, what with having six brothers. 'Okay, only two. Now that Will moved to Denver to live with Uriel, but still…' Yves admitted in his thoughts.

The last rays of the afternoon sun shone through the leaves of the big pine trees surrounding the clearing and the wind whirled those leaves unfortunate to have fallen back up again, some bird wings flapping in the distance. Today was a warm autumn day, not too long anymore and the days would get colder until the first snow would fall. He was already excited about it. No matter what his brothers said about his fitness and skiing talent, he still loved the winter and therefore the begin of the skiing season. How could he not when he grew up in Wrickenridge, Colorado in the middle of the Rocky Mountains?
'It's getting late' he thought before he collected his things and stood up, making his way home.

In the last weeks Yves could often be found at the clearing near his family's home in the woods-not as if anyone knew that. It was his hiding place, refugium, favorite place to think-whatever. He needed it because lately his thoughts strayed, he got sidetracked and his head felt like it could explode any second. Well, that or he felt nothing at all.
'I am alone' he thought and then 'No, I am lonely'. A difference. But not by much. 'When will this emptyness stop?' he asked himself and could not answer. Why, when he otherwise knew the answers to most questions? When he was the 'brain' of the family. That was his special thing. His only way to stand out among his brothers: his intelligence, maybe nerdiness, but he never cared about his brothers' playful teasing, no he was proud of his good grades and high IQ.

But, yes, lately he was not.

He wasn't.

And that bothered him on the good days. On the bad days…he did not care or thought of it as a problem. Even though it was because it was not him! Not Yves.

'Hey, Yves, wanna go to the supermarket with me? Mum has asked me to do the grocery shopping.' Xav shouted out of the car while starting it up just as he walked up the way to the frontdoor.

'No' Yves shouted back and opened the door, went past the kitchen and up the stairs to his room.'I can't do this anymore' he thought.

'What?' a tiny voice in the back of his mind asked. 'Live' he replied aloud in a voice devoid of anything, just determined and maybe accepting and maybe afraid and maybe…

Maybe he was just tired.

Of seeing his happy parents who often did the best they could do, but sometimes it wasn't enough when you were one of seven, even without everyone living toghether. Of watching his little brother with his soulfinder. Even if he loved Sky like a sister he never had. Of being ignored from his older brothers because, though not intentionelly, it still hurt and he knew. He knew that they were busy with their own lives and that they had to fight their own demons. Like Trace who was the eldest, but had to watch his youngest brother with Sky, while he himself was still searching for his one and only.
He was tired of all the expectations everyone seemed to have of what his life should look like. His friends under pressure themselves with the nearing graduation and not understanding him because he had everything and was 'the best of our year, why'd you be worried?'

Yves was tired of life.

Maybe just maybe life wasn't for everyone. Especially for a savant with the gift to destroy or like they said 'energie'. In the end he could burn and destroy and scare them with him loosing control, just slipping for a short moment. It was enough.

Maybe just maybe.
...nobody was home...

He was standing in the front oft he mirror in the bathroom. The door firmly locked behind him. His pale reflexion staring back at him out of sad eyes.

Maybe just maybe.

He looked down at the little knife in his hands.

Probably.