The Theory of Staying Sane

the theory of friends

"Sometimes when you meet someone, there's a click. I don't believe in love at first sight, but I believe in that click. — Blue Diablo

In the short moment between blinks, Wren had managed to get to the end of the hallway. If he had every known failure in his life, it didn't show. Everything from the way he held himself, to the way he spoke, to that look of unassailable confidence in his eyes said he could do it.

He could even rule the world.

And if I'm being honest, I wouldn't mind a world like that.

I unlocked the door and stood at the door, not knowing if I was full of emotion at the moment or emotionless. This is where I was going to eat, sleep, breath, and, if time permits, live.

And I knew this idea was supposed to be mind-numbingly amazing and everything in the world seemed to be going for me, but I didn't feel that way. There is some higher power out there, some power that wants to see me fail at a school known for its excellence. My existence here at Berwick was pure irony and I'm too prideful to realize it. Everything about this place should make me feel euphoric, but my mind failed to meet euphoria and settled for worried instead.

And every good thought I have had since I got here has been followed by a 'but', always followed by a more negative motive.

I put my bags at the foot of the bed and turned back to get my key that I left on the door.

As I reached for the key, I saw Charlie trudging along with a jet black suitcase behind his feet, staring at the floor as he walked to his room. He unlocked the door with the same type of bronze key I held in between my fingers, and he shut the door furiously enough to alarm me, but quietly enough that it only drew my attention even more.

Wren trailed behind him, trying to catch up, but a seemingly rage-filled boy seemed to be quicker on his feet than Wren.

He banged his fists against the door, mumbling, "Don't fuck this up, Charlie. You wonder why Mom can't even look at you when she's around you. It's your third year here and, trust me, if you mess up again, Mom won't hesitate to-," Wren stopped himself in the middle of his sentence, he took in a deep breath. Coming to the realization that there was no point in yelling, he sighed and just whispered, "Charlie. Please. Just open the door, before someone comes. I'm sorry."

Time stood still for a moment as Wren put his forearm and head on the wall beside the door, quietly trying to settle his emotions. I continued peeking from the door, my eyes glued on Wren's frustration until I heard the sound of the door being open, a sharp creaking sound banged against my ears. Charlie walked out, looking furious, sad, confused, and everything in between.

"What do you want, Wren?" Charlie droned, looking back into his room for a second, then went back to looking at Wren straight in the face while discreetly tugging at his sleeves.

Face to face, the bridges of their noses a few inches away, and eyes molded together, the similarities between the two came to life. They shared the same features, but somehow, Wren's entire presence proved to be more lively. Charlie's expressions mimicked that of cement, and his strikingly cold look to Wren seemed to set mountains between them. The muscles in his face were tense and his face looked as alive as a cemetery. The paleness of his was appalling at first glance in contrast to Wren's honey glow.

"Mom just wanted me to tell you, tell you that you have a year. A year or you're going back, and you know she won't even think twice on sending you back. Dad too. Tell me you'll try, Charlie." Wren had a sincere look on his face as he pleaded with his brother. His eyes drowned in worry but he maintained his composure.

Charlie stopped and looked deep into Wren's eyes as if he was trying to find a hint of life in the reflection of Wren's pupils. It looked like he hadn't found any as the knifelike words seethed between his teeth "I don't need your fucking help."