(M) Cameron Flashback: The Chosen (Patreon)

Watching the way they all turned on you at the drop of a hat, the way the golden child had been condemned so quickly…

You had been perched on a pedestal only to be knocked off and shatter in pieces on the ground. It made Cameron sick to his stomach.

He has so much to regret, it all feels like poison on his tongue. The ashes of his home, the guilt of watching you fall apart, the sting of lightning he can still feel race up and down his arms…

It’s all too much. Most days he doesn’t think he can cope, and he just wants to crawl back into anonymity and wallow. That’s impossible, though. Cameron was dragged into the spotlight kicking and screaming; the son of two mediocre sorcerers set to become the new savior of the supernatural world. Now, for better or worse, they call him the Chosen One. You, on the other hand, had been dubbed the Unchosen.

His eyes are drawn to you again, to the stares and whispers you receive, and his chest aches fiercely. He ignores it; mostly because he’s a coward, but also because he doesn’t think you’d appreciate his intervention. The truth is he fears how they turned on you, and he knows it’s only a matter of time until the same is done to him.

For your sake, he wishes he could call back the lightning. For his own sake, he wishes he could un-burn the fire. He wishes his mom was here so he could ask her questions, tell her about you and how he wishes things were different.

But she’s dead, and things aren’t different. Now, when you look at him, you don’t see a classmate you had Ancient Runes with last year. You don’t remember the project you’d done together fondly. Instead, you see the asshole who upended your entire life. His life was upended too, he thinks. Everyone talks about how lucky he is to be the Chosen One, how lucky he is that he has such power, but all Cameron can think about is how he buried his parents and cousin less than a month ago.

In the midst of all the vitriol spit at you, though, he knows you aren’t in the mood to be sympathetic with your anger. He doesn’t blame you. Hell, the Council tried to get you expelled immediately after your fall from grace.

You have good reason to be upset, he acknowledges. He just wishes that hopeless look in your eyes would disappear. He can’t be the one to help you, though, not when he’s the source of all your ails to begin with. How can he help you mend the wound when he’s the one who twisted the knife?

So he sits next to the Rivera heir in class and at meals, just like his aunt instructed him to. He knows she has some plot she’s working on, something that requires the Riveras as a whole, so Cameron begrudgingly goes along. He doesn’t think he can ever be friends with Luci Rivera, though. Who would want a friend that turns on you so quickly? Not that Cameron has had many friends before, but the point remains.

Still, on the rare occasions Cameron manages to meet your eyes across the room, he wishes with every bone in his body that things could be different. That his mother could crush him in an embrace again, that his aunt could hold his cousin, that his father could ruffle his hair and help him with homework.

That, maybe, you could look at him without the weight of these titles that society has forced you both to bear.

It’s impossible, though. So he sits, suffering in a different but wholly similar way to you. Maybe if he offered a hand, you could both stay afloat instead of mutually drowning.

He fears your rejection, though. Fears you slapping the hand away, rather letting water fill your lungs than have Cameron be the one to help you. He fears the reaction of the masses, that they might turn their venom of him and his aunt.

He fears so much, wishes too much, so he just does what he’s best at. He keeps quiet.