Stupid Little Blue Haired Boy (boyxboy)

twenty two.

look at this, two updates in two days.

wow. i'm proud of myself. 

haha, i don't expect you guys to be, that's okay. just enjoy, alright? i hate to think of me wasting your time with my rambles at the beginning and you not even enjoying the reward.

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The rain continues to pour through the whole day.  It turns the dirt into mud that catches my shoes on the trudge through row after row of charcoal stones.  Dead grass recedes into the mess with the promise of being born anew.  At the skyline, it blurs the divider into a constant shade of beauty.  The sun is hidden.  The clouds have their time in the spotlight.  

It empties the graveyard quite nicely.

I leave Justin a letter, and once I think about it, a budding flower off a nearby tree.  I'm not the best prepared, in any sense of the word, but isn't it our imperfections that make us beautiful?

"If you're really just a memory," I start, "then why don't I still love you in the same way?  If you're not changing-- evolving-- then shouldn't I still feel the same way?"  When I touch the earth, a little brother of the previous flame still burns, its size having been diminished by the downpour.

"Why can't I still get the feeling back?  I can still feel the hurt, and the pain of a scraped knee the same as in my childhood.  Why can't I feel the same love for you?  Why is it fair for that to fade and not the others?  It's all I have left."

But if he's listening, Justin chooses to abstain from response.  

I walk home.  There's no point to waste my time with the dead any longer.  I haven't come to any great revelation, I'm just cold and wet and my insides twist with hunger.

Living is such high maintenance.  

I find Teddy in front of the TV, watching some dumb show about someplace sunny, where the most clothes anyone wears is their swimsuits.  He pats the couch with a smile, and I hold up one finger to signal, "hold on until I get some food before I pass out and die, thanks."

We have no food.

"Teddy!" I call out from the kitchen.  It's the loudest sound I've made in a long, long time, and it hurts.  Raising my voice hurts.

"What if it was the only way to save me?  Would you scream then?"

I took a swing at his head, but he ducked just in time.  It collided with a tree instead.  

"I'm serious!"

"That's a fucking stupid question," I swore at him.  "You know I hate what-if questions."

Justin allowed an evil grin to spread across his face.  "What if I'm doing this just to annoy you?"

"Then I guess I'll have to do this!"

I jumped at him.  We rolled down the hill and as he crashed me into a tree, I let out a squeal.  And then a scream as his knee connected with my crotch.  

I think the scream hurt more than the reason for letting it out.

"What?" he yells back.

"We have no food!"

"Mom's shopping, I think.  I have some chips in here if you want them."

Fuck yes, I want them.

I take the bag from him and sit down.  The TV's showing a commercial for Viagra, and my brother laughs.  "That's why he's not getting laid.  He should be at home with his wife, not making a commercial admitting he has boner issues."

"What's he supposed to use, if he can't get it up?  A strap-on?"

I actually get a laugh.  He's laughing, so I laugh, because what else is there to do?  And it feels good to laugh.  Wrong, seeing everything bad in the world, but good.

"That's not bad.  Nice one, little bro."

Shoving a handful of food in my mouth, I stare at the floor.  At our feet.  At how similar they are, and then up to our faces.  At how different they are.  Our hands are similar, yet we use them so differently.  Teddy leaves his resting on the seam of his pants, while I clasp mine close to my stomach.  He's so confident and I'm so insecure, but we both have the same eyes.

"Why'd you start speaking, Damian?"  He mutes the TV and shifts to face me.  

Fear's familiar and my escape is just out of my reach.  I remember why words are not my friends.

When put in a stressful situatuon, people resort back to what they know best.

Silence.

The rain's coming down.  The TV buzzes, even on mute.  Someone down the street screams with laughter.  A car passes by our house, circles around and passes by again.  

And then there's my brother with his question unanswered.

"Shit, nevermind.  Forget I said anything."  Tedyy reaches for the remote and sound blasts to fill the space between us.  He watches the TV with blank eyes, girls in bikinis no longer interesting.

I hand him back the chips and pull my knees to my chest.  I'd move, probably trip, and he'd laugh.  Things would go back to normal.

I guess I fall asleep, because time passes quicker than it should.  When I dream, it's about reality; about the TV being too loud, the house being too cold, and the couch being too squishy.  The couch is trying to eat me.  I kick out my legs and struggle against my fate.

I hate dreams.  They make reality look uncreative.

"The couch tried to eat me," I tell Teddy.

But he's asleep too and doesn't hear me.  I pick up my jacket off the floor.  At the top of the stairs, I whisper down the sleeping hallway.

"Because I thought I was in love again."