trilogy [one-shots and poems]

VII

SEVEN:
No Right Answer
(2/10/18) 

For each and every teen that called themselves "The Gang", a nickname made up by Rob and Caden when Kyle joined, each had their own perspective on family.

There was a level to what they've experienced, and what they believe in, and what they love. It goes from Rob, who's never not gonna be welcomed with open arms — to Mitch, who doesn't even remember the feeling of his mother's hugs, and only the lonely nights laying in bed, wishing he had his old home back. To Preston, who only delves in hatred and abuse, and to Kyle — who holds a deep and depressing mindset to the thought. And most definitely Caden, who's constantly misunderstood and left worthless, leaving Pete — to knock off with his insanely close relationship with his parents.

Mitch was left staring at the computer screen in front of him. Left staring at the plane tickets plastered on the glowing screen at one in the morning, his sleeping boyfriend on the bed near him.

It's not that Mitch was jealous of Kyle. Nor despised him. It was completely the opposite — their relationship was complicated, and it was there, and it was love. But there were always feelings left unsaid in the four years they met silence. The envy of family. The feeling of emptiness. The two types of depression that refused to ever meet — yet in this case, they matched.

He hated the fact that Kyle couldn't understand what it felt like. They met on every other level than this one — and it made him angry on the inside. Never to be shown or spoke about, but the soft anger in the back of his mind. Drunken thoughts in a sober body. A calm and easy going person with feelings that are supposed to be kept locked up. It's typical with anyone who has a personality like Mitchell Herrada.

He couldn't understand Kyle though, either. He could not understand how Kyle could just easily push away a family so loving, no matter the drama and fights. No matter the consequences they went through. He couldn't understand, and he hated it. The rare occasion when they got into big fights, this would be the topic that hit home — and it would almost always never end good. Kyle refused to be in his families threshold, and Mitch refused to let him.

He had family, and people like Mitch didn't, so why didn't he take this for granted?

"Because families are all difficult the same, Mitch." Kyle would say, sighing, watching him with pleading eyes, avoiding an argument. "It's not what you believe it to be"

"You act like I was born by a box. I had parents, Kyle." Mitch would insist, and Kyle would rest his cheek in his hand, looking up at him absentmindedly.

"I know." Kyle would say firmly, blinking frustratingly, furrowing his eyebrows. "But you're raised differently, babe. We've been over this countless times"

Mitch would sigh. Sometimes he'd let it go — sometimes he wouldn't. Because he just didn't get it. And he... wanted to.

So he found himself aimlessly walking through the school hallway after an argument with Kyle. They didn't argue often, and both of them could vouch for this, but it was always the same topic. Because like Mitch said before — this was two different types of depression. A lost depression. A lost cause. Two things that seemed to go away — but really, can you really cure depression?

He could only guess Kyle was with the twins in the library, probably fueling Matthew's anger toward him, just making Mitch even more angry. He sat down in the corner of the cafeteria, ignoring the stares he got from his friends, slinging his backpack down. He felt like he was back in Honeyview — he felt like Jace was going to pop in front of him and tell him to fucking quit it, Herrada, show them the fuck what you're made of.