black roses | The Lost Boys (1987)

xviii.

I stared at the book in my hands, my eyes skimming over the page over and over, though I wasn't actually able to ingest the information. My mind was elsewhere. Where it was, I wasn't sure, but I couldn't focus on the pages in hand. I wanted to scream.

I stood from the bed abruptly and walked over to where Marko was with his pigeons. He gave me an easy smile, and I returned it before grabbing the joint sticking out from his pocket. He just raised an eyebrow and continued petting the bird's coat.

I walked back over to the couch and sat down, grabbing a lighter from the pocket of my jacket. I lit the joint easily and sat back as I took a few drags. It was quiet in the cave, an unusual occurrence, really. Normally, the boys were jumping around and yelling or dancing, but everyone was out except Marko and me. I didn't want to leave, and Marko didn't want to leave me alone, so we were stuck in this situation.

I took another drag of the blunt and relaxed farther into the chair, a small smile on my lips. Music played in the background, but I didn't care to figure out what it was. I could tell it was rock of some sort, an album Marko had picked out, but that was all I knew.

I swung my legs up so I was laid with my legs on the top of the couch and my back on the seat. I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself from whatever I was feeling. The weed was helping, but it wasn't enough. I needed a distraction before I exploded in screams. "Hey, Marko," I mumbled quietly, knowing he could hear me. "Can you please come over and kiss me."

I recognized the sound of a pigeon flying away and his boots hitting the cave floor before he was standing in front of me. He crouched in front of me and offered another small smile before placing his lips on mine. It was strange as I was upside down, but it did the trick.

I focused on the way his lips moved against mine, fitting like a puzzle piece it seemed. It was something I figured I might never get used to. I never felt sparks or fireworks. I just felt like I was finally home.

Through my small lifetime, I had come to realize that home was never a place, it was a person or a group of people. It was the feeling they gave you like you've never felt safer. Home is someone you can tell everything. Home is someone who you could pick out of a crowd easily because you'd never lose them. Home to me was the four boys I had grown attached to, and I wasn't sure what I would do if I lost my home.

Marko pulled away and gave me a questioning look. He helped me sit up properly before asking me the question he had been wondering. "What's going on inside that pretty little head of yours?"

I sighed and took another drag of my blunt before responding. "I am in love with the four of you."

It was a simple sentence. It was only nine small words strung together to form a declaration of sorts, but it made my shoulders feel lighter like someone had pulled a ton of bricks off them. I could breathe properly, it seemed, and it was such a simple sentence, but the way Marko's eyes lit up, I knew it was so much more.

Sure, I had told them 'I love you' over the course of our relationship but loving someone and being in love with someone was something completely different. Loving someone was an attachment. It was the way you appreciated your friends or family. You knew you would be hurt deeply if something happened to them, but it was something you could get over. When you're in love with something, it was like the only thing that mattered was that. It was like your life was intertwined with theirs, and you couldn't live without them. Love was something that faded over time, but falling into it, it was something that never left you, no matter what. Being in love with someone was beautiful yet retched and evil at the same time. Being in love with someone was something irreversible and complete, and I was in love with these four boys.