Whole New Complexity (A Sequel to Crazy As Normal)(Izzal)

Chapter 14

Axl is awakened by the noises of cars from the street. His left arm is numb due to the weight of Izzy's head. He briefly tries moving. Izzy rolls over in his sleep, turning his back on Axl.

Rubbing his own arm, Axl stands up beside the bed. He treads on something. He looks down at the floor, finding a blue envelope under his foot. A sender's name is familiar to him. It's Izzy's birth father. Axl grasps the point why Izzy asked him if he would leave him early this  morning. That was a simple ascertainment, yet in it, Axl felt the faint sound of begging him not to. His birth father left him when he was in third grade. He was a modest child and didn't talk about his family matter loquaciously in contrast to Axl who showed his purple and green bruises. Axl wanted to heal his friend's deep sorrow but yet, he wasn't sure that he was capable at the same time. He himself afforded no ease or reassurance. Their teenage days were quite a mess.

He remembers the snowy night in which sixteen year old Bill ran for his life to Izzy's room when he caught his stepfather off guard (Actually he believed there was ties of blood at that time.) He shed blood from his nose, all wet, let alone his teeth chattered with the cold.

Izzy wiped the blood trail on his face and said, "Thank you for escaping to me."

He was already a weed kid, so it wasn't like angel Izzy welcomed him. Bewildered, Bill replied to him, "No, thank you, Izz. Here's the only place where I know I feel safe."

Izzy took him by the hand and lead him on the bed. While Bill looked up at him, shaking, he wrapped a thick blanket around him. "You need to change clothes."

Bill dropped his eyes. There was a blue envelope thrown without care on the floor in his line of sight. "Your dad sent you a letter."

"Yep." Izzy handed his clothes to the redhead. "I really don't get it. What's the point of writing a fucking letter? He has his life in Florida and I live here in my fucking own way."

Throwing his dripping wet sneakers and socks on the floor, Bill quickly changed his clothes since Izzy didn't feel shame in seeing his naked body.

"Bill, he hit you again!" Izzy sheepishly covered Bill's skinny abdomen with his palm.

"He always does. Man, you saw my nosebleed. Don't be like that."

"But this is un-fucking-acceptable." Izzy turned his body and started scrabbling about the drawer.

Bill got into Izzy's sweatpants and hoodie, shouting under his breath. "Hey, I don't need the pain relief cream. I'm freezing!" It was late at night and he didn't want to wake someone up in this house. Moreover, he knew that Izzy kept the cream in there since Bill sought sanctuary in his room every time he got thrashed.

"Then use the hot-water bottle." Replying to Bill, Izzy everted the edge of the hoodie and applied the cream on his abdomen.

Shuddering at menthol, Bill took the envelope in his hand. "Can I?"

As Izzy nodded without a word, he held the hot-water bottle which had been left under Izzy's blanket, and took the letter out of the envelop, settling himself on the bed. His nose and stomach still hurt. He felt the mixture of fear and resignation in his gut. Plus, his father would beat him again when he got home, but Izzy was his first choice right now. He was unusually weird.

Bill briefly ran his eyes over the letter. "Oh god."

Izzy was thumbing through his vinyl collection in the bookshelf. "It's not my fucking business." He kept his fingers between the records.

"Your dad actually got married. It's your fucking business." Though his friend's voice sounded carefree, Bill didn't want to leave that alone.

"How about a little Nazareth?" Izzy showed the 'Expect No Mercy' album released last year and turned on the record player. "I got this record a week ago so you haven't-"

"I don't fucking listen to Nazareth, Izzy! Stop pretending like you're all okay!" Bill walked to him taking the record away from him and uttered again. "You're a great artist, I know your engraver dad influenced you a lot. You love art classes. He showed you how to deal with the materials, didn't he? And, look at you, you play the drums. I know because your paternal grandma played them, so don't play goddamn Nazareth right now!" He turned off the record player a little roughly.

"Don't cry for me." Izzy looked down at his shoes and mumbled.

Bill found himself crying and turned his face aside. "I don't want to. Dammit, the tears shed by themselves."

"We ain't blessed with fathers." Izzy lifted the mattress, and took the plastic bag filled with the green grasses between the mattress and the bed frame. He rolled two joints dexterously, handing one of them to Bill. "Ya know, I don't give up hope. We'll get outta this shitty life when the timing is right. We can make it."

"You will." Bill heaved with sobs.

"Both of us will." Izzy rephrased.

Bill looked straight at the taller friend. He was as calm as ever, which made Bill doubt his presence of mind. He had never felt this unstable atmosphere around his friend before. Was that because Bill's eyes were filled with tears and couldn't see clearly, or because Izzy was actually getting teary?

"You need a good cry. You don't have to be the oldest Isbell boy right now." Bill couldn't stop sobbing. This was the most heartbreaking thing as far as he knew. "Don't be patient, Izzy. You're not a big brother here."

Izzy slumped on the floor with his back to the desk. He covered his face with his arms and finally sobbed. "Your nose got a bruise."

"That's the usual." Bill took the joint between Izzy's fingers. Both of them were crying in a sorrow so they couldn't enjoy marijuana peacefully anyway. The weed would soften their sorrow, but Izzy needed to admit his real feelings right now.

He sat down beside Izzy. He wanted to hold him, he wanted to comb down his brown hair and put a kiss on his swirl. He wanted to fondle him with his soft kisses.

The journey of the teenage memory stops here.

Axl looks away from the blue envelope on the floor which probably isn't unsealed. He stares at Izzy's back, mumbling in his mind. "I had come to like him."

He crealy remembered that he restrained himself, just sat beside him, staring at his freezing bare red toes until Izzy stopped sobbing. His stepfather's abuse still went on, and through the battering days, it was too tough to have a time to think about what a kiss meant to him, or to face his real feelings. He protected himself and his two little siblings to the best of his ability. He couldn't afford to feel a joy of romance. But yeah, teenage Bill was in love with his best friend unconsciously. The love has apprehended him. It will never let him go.