Name: Caspian Blake Winter
Birth date: April 16th, 1999
Birthplace: Chicago, Illinois
+compassionate, optimistic, sincere || -clinging, impulsive, defiant
“This is wrong, and I’m so frustrated.”
A mere 4lbs 2oz Caspian was when he first came into the world, five weeks premature. His parents were both dual citizens of the US and UK from all the moving around they’d done since they were 18 and in love and wanted to see the world and what it had to offer. They were particularly fond of The States and England though, choosing to spend most of their young adult lives going back and forth. All of that had to come to an end though when Caspian came along, too early and too much of a hassle. For mostly his dad, apparently, who up and left a short month after Caspian was born, not enough love in him for the boy he created in the name of love. Irony, maybe. Minus the amusing part.
Kathryn, his mother, kept him in Illinois until he was a year old and then took the few belongings she cared about (she shattered a wine glass with an anniversary on it that didn’t mean that much to her anymore against the wall) and settled down in London. Her best friend helped a lot with his upbringing, a second mother to Caspian because his had to work to pay rent. Everything was good though; they had a roof over their heads and food on the table and good people around them.
The thing is, life doesn’t stay the same. It changes, has a routine, it’ll be all good or all bad or somewhere in between, but none of it lasts. His mom resented him (“Sometimes you’re just too in my way, Caspian! I have a life to live, too, you know.”), he knew that ever since he was eleven and she stopped trying to act like she was happy. She was even less around than she was when he was younger, not coming back until he was supposed to be asleep and unable to hear the voices of the strange guys she brought home, but he’s always had trouble sleeping. It was his home as well, right? He told her as much at age thirteen one morning, a man sitting at their table eating breakfast. (“Kid,” the man shook his head, “you’re too uptight. Sharing is caring.” Patronizing. They all patronized him.) He was always too something.
“I could wreck it if I had to, but I’m the wreck so what good would that do?”
Caspian distracts people from his overly emotional insides with a tough exterior, he scares them off or holds them at arm's-length, not allowing them a chance to get past his defenses. He even gets asked out by a girl named Bethany who doesn’t know him as well as she thinks she does and he says yes because it’s easy and he’s lonely. Bethany teaches him how to put on eyeliner and tutors him in maths and becomes a kind of bodyguard, pushing those away that tried to hurt him. It’s nice and she makes killer mac ‘n’ cheese, so. Hiding his sexuality isn’t intentional, it just happened. More people knew about him and Bethany and nobody knew that sometimes Caspian would stare too long at the boys playing soccer, so he never told.
School is fine and people talk to him, they want to know how his day’s been or they want to know if he’s done the homework so they can copy his. It’s a nice escape from what was once his home; what now smells like regret and leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
Caspian is a lover; he loves people maybe too much and too fast--and always too something--but he really loves people. He doesn’t hide it and doesn’t shy away from affection. Sometimes he isn’t thinking enough and he likes to just do things, things like open up to people he meets online because they can’t touch him from the other side of the screen, can’t get in too close because he can always cut them off. He smokes tobacco and wears girl’s leggings and clunky, black boots that weigh him down. Caspian doesn’t like to be told what to do and how to live, he’s a knock-off rebel without a cause, but he cares.