Light Behind His Eyes

Please Stay

With my dad around me and Peter stopped hanging out. It had been two weeks sense I last talked to him because he would never answer his phone or wasn't ever home. Part of me hoped with my everything he wasn't avoiding me. He probably was.

"He's probably just busy Ang. " offered my dad one day after I attempted to text Peter. I just wanted to hang out. I wasn't even ganna ask him about the other night.
"Yeah....maybe."

"Maybe something happened with his parents and he can't talk." I rolled my eyes, "for two weeks?"

"Its ganna be okay Ang. I'm sure he'll call you back the minute he gets the chance."

Shy little Angela believed that. She hoped they were right and that cocky Peter Smith would still want to be my friend, my brother. But deep down the new Angela knew he was avoiding me, knew he didn't want to talk to me.

So I let them both win. I was going to go to his house. I needed to know the truth. "I'm going out." That's all I said before going to my room and slipping on dark jeans, black converse, and a black hoody.

The funny thing was they didn't ask where I was going. They didn't need to. They knew. They always knew when it came to me and Peter. They knew some things before we did. But that wasn't till later on. A very different story for another time.

I did the right thing first. Shy Angela wouldn't allow anything else. I knocked on the front door. His mom answered it a few seconds later with a sad little smile. "Still not home. Sorry Angela. Ill have him call you when he gets back."

"Thanks Mrs Smith." But I didn't leave. I his and waited till she closed the door and went to look into a bedroom window. I knew it was his almost instantly. His glasses where sitting next to the bed and the floor, desk, and garbage we're covered in a layer of note paper. Every piece was sadly crumpled up passed recognition.

Now it gets hot during the summer where we live so I wasn't surprised when his window was unlocked. I was, however, surprised when I found out I was able to pull myself up into his room. I was surprised when I started looking through his stuff and finding notebooks after notebooks of song lyrics and music staffs. I was surprised when I managed enough guts to pick one up and start reading it.

"Eyes of green, hair of brown
Magic words without a sound

Hear your voice the world looks clear
Couldn't cope without you here

Because the world seems better when you say my name
The earth spins faster like a speeding train
Everything around me seems to bring me pain
But for some strange reason
Nothing matters when you're here "

After the words there was a bunch of letters I random order that I didn't understand. I was so interested in all of the words and notes and melodies I didn't notice the door open. I didn't notice until he started yelling.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing in here!?" He screamed ripping the paper out of my hands.

"Peter. I'm so sorry.... I jus-"

"Get out of here! Go! Cant you take a hint!"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay!"

"Get out! Go home!" I tried to look in his eyes. To see that nice, sweat, trust worthy, cocky Peter Smith I always saw. All I saw was anger. Full rage.

"Peter please...I'm sorry...please stop-"

"I SAID GET OUT! " I swear he was about to swing at me. He was about to throw me out himself. So I left. I ran out of there. All I could see were those cold, dead, angry eyes.

I herd his door slam behind me and I herd something get thrown across his room. I jumped when it hit the wall. I didn't know what to think. His words rang through my mind over and over again. His face red from yelling so loudly. "Cant you take a hint!?" Did he mean about avoiding me? "Get out! Go home!" Didn't he want me anymore? I thought he was my friend. My brother. My other half. My Peter. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he meant more to me then I meant to him.

I couldn't help but whisper it under my breath as I cried to myself on the way home, "please Peter, please stay."
The rest of that night was a blur. I got home and ran strait to my room. I herd mom and dad knock every once in a while, but I never answered. I just laid on my bed starring at the wall. "Honey please eat" "honey please tell me what happened." "Ang was it something he did?" "Why won't you talk to me sweety"

*****

Maybe I should have let him walk away that day. If I let him walk he wouldn't have gone to that party two years later. And he'd still be alive. Its my fault.