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"$TING" -The Neighbourhood
September 29th, 2006 5:32pm
The ringing of your cell phone, buzzing in your jeans pocket. A number appeared that you haven't seen in ages.
You answered almost immediately, your words bolting out of you like lightning.
"Alex, where have you been? We've been worried about you, It's been—"
Though your words are interrupted by the two that would haunt you for years.
"He's gone."
Decaying.
March 21st, 2012 6:52am
The rain droplets dance; a complicated number only the clouds understand. the wind howls encouragement, convincing the surrounding flowers to show their approval too.
Dried, burnt and dying weeds slowly begin to look hopeful- perhaps realising that being alive isn't always a curse.
The sun shies away, hidden by the thick grey cover... although it occasionally checks in on how Earth is getting along.
A tilted chin exposes a silver line, a scar beneath the jaw of a man who played foul. His adam's apple juts out as he swallows, stretching the skin and moving a constellation of freckles - freckles that can be traced along his collarbone and up his shoulder. They dip into the contours of his back.
The orange-ish glow of the lantern illuminated a mirroring hue into Brian, his features visible from the light.
His body is a coathanger, all wire, and his clothes cling to every corner. He is long-legged and narrow. He fumbles with a shoestring, tying a knot that barely keeps his jeans from the floor. The soft sound of a hummed tune emitted from him, the tune of a song you couldn't recognize.
He didn't realize you were awake, your eyes taking in what you could of him while he didn't notice. It felt so refreshing to see his face again after all these years. Stubble lined his chin and upper lip, his hair shaggy but not too long.
You could tell he still tried to take care of himself, his hair combed out. His black t-shirt hugged his chest as he reached for the yellow hoodie.
It had clicked with you that it was the same one you had given him ten years ago. It's littered with stitches and patches—poorly attached from his surprising lack of experience.
His eyes soon turned towards you, to which you swiftly pretended to be asleep, eyes shutting immediately.
"I know you're awake."
His voice is nonchalant, yet void of any real emotion. You sat up with a defeated sigh, running your fingers through your hair.
Your eyes watch as he threw the hoodie over his head, slipping his arms through.
The sound of the rain pouring down mixed with birds still chirping despite the weather conditions emitted from the woods, the dark sky littered with clouds.
You were scared to even speak—terrified to lose him again despite his attitude towards you. Though, your curiosity speaks for you.
"Y'know, you never told me why you're keeping me here." You leaned against the wall while he gathered his things.
He didn't respond, only grabbing something you couldn't quite see in the shadows out of reach of the lantern.
He walked over to you, gasping your ankle before attaching a sort cuff around it, attaching the other cuff to a built in pipe to the cement wall.
It took you a minute to register what happened.
"What the hell?" You voiced, your confused eyes meeting his void ones.
"At first, I thought it would be nice to let you have some sense of freedom," he began, pacing in front of you before kneeling down.
"But I think it's best to make sure you don't go running off, now." He places a water bottle in your reach, along with a small bag, presumably filled with food.
"..where are you going?"
"That's not for you to worry about." He grabs his mask, throwing it over his head before putting his hood up.
You leaned against the wall, a small sigh leaving your lips as he grabs his gloves.
"You can't just leave me here like this."
He fell silent as he put the cotton gloves on, ignoring you completely.
"I know you hear me, asshole."
He once more ignored you, continuing to go about his business.
"Brian."
He stopped in his tracks, his masked face turned towards you. His legs guided him towards you, kneeling down in front of you before ripping off his mask—a stern expression inhabiting his face.
"Do you really think I look like the face of sanity?" His question was a mere whisper, his eyes staring into your soul.
"Do you really believe there is a drop of good will circulating around my conscious?"
His words taunted you, eyes that are void of that gentle aura that you once knew.
A decaying flower.
"Hate and rage race through my soul—filling my head full of sin and gives me the drive to rip your head off if you stare at me funny."
You dared to even mentally refer to him as Brian. His hands are scarred with sin, yet you'd still trust them completely.
Your lip trembled before speaking.
"What happened to you?"
His void eyes kept their gaze on you as he gathered his thoughts.
