Healing Mega-Post
Title: Healing
Author: x_tired_crazy_x
Sumary: Joel's finally taken a step outside. The sun is bright, the birds are chirping. It's absolutely beautiful. So how come he still feels broken?
Sequel to Sedated.
Disclaimer: This is fiction.
Sedated
1
2
Chapter 3:
"Joel!" Arms. Around me. They're not Benji's and it's weird. They're skinnier; they're Billy's arms. Billy's hugging me. That's okay. It's just Billy. My childhood friend. Just Billy. I'm okay. He's okay. We're all okay. Right? Right Joel? Yes, yes I am.
The arms let go of me. Whew. Okay, now it's Paul's turn. It's Paul's slightly-chubbier-than-Benji's arms that are around me. He doesn't hug me as tight as Billy but still, I find myself mentally freaking out because that's what Joel does... along with refer to himself in the third person in times of near mental breaks downs.
But Joel's not breaking down. No. He's really not.
But neither am I perfectly comfortable. Definitely not comfortable.
"It's been so long, you look great," Billy says after giving Benji a hug.
"Thanks," I mumble looking downwards towards my sock covered feet.
"The house looks nice," Paul now speculates, his eyes scanning the walls and I do too.
"Joel and I just finished cleaning," Benji explains. We all migrate over to the couches and I automatically sit next to Benji who grabs my hand leaning into me while Billy and Paul still look around.
"You okay babe?" he asks the concern ever present as always. Will that ever go away?
"Yeah, I'm fine," I tell him coming off a bit annoyed. I'm fine. I am fine. I need to believe it and I'm having a hard time.
"So what have you guys been up to?" I wonder. I really haven't talked to them since I was like, 14?
"Eh, same old," Paul claims and it takes a second for him to realize that I don't know what the 'Same Old' would be.
"Well we just got off tour with the band, so we've just been relaxing and pretty much doing nothing for the last couple weeks," Billy explains to me.
"The band?" I question confused as ever. Benji still is holding my hand and he kinda gives me a reassuring squeeze.
"He doesn't know?" Paul asks Benji surprised.
"Well he doesn't watch TV and I never really got around to telling him," Benji shrugs looking at me from the corner of his eye.
"What?" I look at all of them.
"They've got a band. They're pretty fucken huge. Record sales through the roof. TV appearances the whole sha-bang," Benji tells me.
"Yeah but our lead singer is an asshole..." Billy says.
"Though the public wouldn't know," Paul interjects mumbling.
Wow. I had no freaking clue about that one.
"That's awesome," I say kinda in awe.
"You should come to one of our shows sometime," Paul says and suddenly Billy coughs really loudly. "I mean, if you feel up to it," he adds hastily.
I roll my eyes because obviously Benji said something to them and I know that they know all about me and stuff and I don't mind talk about what I've gone through. What I'm going through, I'd rather keep to myself. There's a difference.
"You guys don't have to pussyfoot around it; you can talk about it," I tell them all monotone. Benji sits up in his seat because I know he's surprised.
"Well," Billy looks at me speaking really slowly. "What was like... wrong with you?" he asks. I shrug at this.
"I dunno. Severe depression and an anal brain that seemed to hate me all the time," I find this funny but the only response I get are these looks like they don't know whether to laugh or cry. I decide to continue. "I was just stuck in this mind frame... I was pretty much afraid of everything. You remember when I was a kid Benj, how dad would always cut me down 'nd shit?" Benji nods accordingly. "Well I don't know, I was just afraid of growing up and really afraid of myself and it escalated and escalated until I didn't have control anymore. The fear did," I tell them leaving out the voices. Benji brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it all softly. I look at Billy and Paul and they look sad. I don't want them to be sad. I don't want pity over it. It's in the past.
"But I'm better now, realizing what's wrong allowed me to understand. To control my head. I have control and I know that so it's all good," I explain.
"Well that's good," Billy comments and I smile.
"Definitely," I agree.
We talk for hour, I don't even know how much time passes before we're saying good-bye to them and this time when Paul and Billy give me hugs I don't freak out. Well not nearly as bad... We make plans to get together again two days from now and Benji seems really excited about it and even happier because it was my idea. I invited them and to him, I’m pretty sure it makes it that much better. Even if I do get annoyed with him, I still love it when he's proud of me. As childish as that is, I don't care. I missed out on a good childhood so this makes up for it.
The two of us retire to our bedroom where we strip down and get under the sheets with ease. Just as I'm about to close my eyes, Benji clears his throat.
"Joel," he rolls over so he's facing me. I open my eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think we could talk about it sometime?"
Once again, the past 10 years are being referred to as 'it' but I don't really mind. I can't because I don't even no what to call them. They're so… I don't know. Benji does deserve to know everything about what I've gone through. Hell, he was there, but at the same time, to talk about it with just him scares me. I don't exactly know why.
"Um, yeah. Of course... Just, not right now I'm really tired," I tell him and he smiles.
"Me too," he yawns lazily. He falls down next to me and rests his arm on my stomach. I'm pretty sure I fall asleep first which is unusual but then again, it's been a long day for me and I really need this sleep.
Chapter 4:
The sun shines really bright through the curtain and I wake up squinting my eyes trying to move out of the line of fire. Fall seems to come and takes no mercy. The tree that once blocked the invading rays of light, now stands barren as winter promises to turn all the plant life into a definite wasteland. But I like the winter. I'm hoping for a winter wonderland style somewhere. I like the short cold days and the long freezing nights. Being covered by countless blankets only finding true warmth with Benji's arms around me keeping me safe. Nighttime is by far a general favorite of mine. For years when I couldn't sleep, I'd just sit around alone. Since it was dark I loved to look out the windows longing to take a step outside myself. As much as I miss my hardcore nightlife right there, I definitely also enjoy getting my sleep. Sleep is a happy addition to my general list of necessities. Sleep used to be a gift; it’s really nice to be able to drift off so easily.
Benji rolls over onto his back so I can easily see his face. He looks generally content and beautiful as always. His black hair is kinda greasy looking but not disgustingly gross or anything. His forehead is sweating so some of his hair is sticking to his face. Ever so gently I remove the hair from his face surprise at how warm his forehead feels. Like... he's really hot right now. His eyes squint together and his breathing pattern breaks.
"MmmmJoel?" he groans in a crackly voice. I furrow my brow.
"Are you okay?" I immediately wonder. His eyes meet mine as they open and they're all blood shot.
"I dunno, I feel sick," he complains reaching a hand to his head and wiping away the sweat. "I think I'm-"
Benji doesn't have to finish his sentence for me to immediately help him to his feet where he suffers from dizzy spells. He's barely able to walk on his own to the bathroom without me catering to him. As soon as we get to the bathroom he saunters forward till he's above the toilet and empties the contents of his stomach. I look away because come on, people puking is disgusting, even if it his my brother. When I glance at him again, he's on his knees praising the porcelain god.
"You okay?" I dare to ask taking a half step forward. He wipes his mouth looking up at me with a helpless face. "Benji?" I question while slowly making my way to the toilet. He leans over the bowl dry heaving now and coming from someone who felt the need to puke for hours on end with an empty stomach, dry heaving fucking sucks. Benji does one of those choked cough things and my hand on impulse finds it's way to his back gently rubbing slow small circles.
"Joel..." Benji just barely manages to say my name. Worry clouds all my thoughts.
"Benji, I'm gonna go get some water," I say because water always helps and I kinda want to get away from his vomit. He flushes the toilet as I turn my back. Just as I leave our room I hear him heaving up again and fuck. I'm worried. A fever and puking is never the sign of a good thing. Trust me, I would know. I hate getting sick. It's just disgusting and burns your throat as it comes back up. I hope Benji's okay. He's barely ever sick... or even gets a cough. But it's not even Benji being sick that scares me the most. Most above all, I don't think I'd know how to take care of him. I don't know how to be there for him. Sure, I can get him water, and make him soup but that isn't taking care of someone. It's more, isn't it?
Benji always made taking care of me more than just a helping hand. It was his job, though he would never admit it. I bet he still thinks of it as his job even if I'm all better. Well... getting better.
I reach the kitchen, grabbing above the sink for a cup, turning on the tap to fill it up. I turn the water off and walk back to our room wincing at the noises coming from the bathroom. But I don't want Benji to think I'm grossed out by him. I bite my tongue for a second and take a deep breath before walking back in the bathroom. Benji's still sitting on the ground near the toilet so I crouch down and hand him the cup. He flushes the toilet.
"Here you go, get it down," I tell him as he grabs the water from me. He immediately swallows half the cup down taking a second to breathe afterwards, then downing the rest. He looks over to me and I offer him and gentle smile now biting the insides of my cheeks and lips. Nervous habit I suppose. I don't know.
"Feeling better?" I ask hopefully. Benji nods slowly yet my brow is still creased. I stand up and look at myself in the mirror, scowling briefly before shaking my head and spotting Benji's tooth brush. Shrugging I take mine too and put toothpaste on both of them, running them under the water for a second and then handing Benji his and keeping mine. We brush our teeth at the same time. I keep an eye on him as I do mine, finishing before him I spit and rinse. Next, I take the cup I gave him before I fill the cup up with water. Benji takes it, using it to rinse and I grab his brush and put in under the running water. Once both our brushes are back in the holding I turn to Benji.
"Do you want to lay down?" I guess if I was sick that's what I would want to do. Now that I can sleep. I imagine puking is a very tiring activity. You see before, I didn't have a choice what I did. The... the voices wouldn't let me sleep so majority of the time after I got sick I'd just sit at the kitchen table burping and disgusted with myself.
"Please," Benji croaks in broken, ripped sounding voice. I can't explain it, but you know how people sound when they get sick. It nearly hurts your ears. I flinch hearing him speak like that, but quickly offer a helping hand so he can get to his feet. As soon as he's standing, he wraps his arms around me hugging me to him. I tense up because fast fluid movements are still mildly unexpected. Slowly, with Benji leaning most of his weight on little me, we find ourselves on his side of the bed. It's really scaring me how weak he is. I help him lie down making sure to touch him all tenderly as to not upset his stomach. I run my fingers through his hair and look at him for a moment. Even sick he looks pretty. I pull the comforters over his body then crawl over to my side and lay down next to him. Again, he pulls me into his and kisses my forehead.
"Thank you for taking care of me," he says and I inhale and exhale really loudly unable to fight the smile... even if he can't see my face I know he feels it.
"You're welcome, Benji," I reply.
"Love you..."
"Love you too."
Chapter 5:
“Are you feeling better?” I ask cautiously with worried eyes. Benji nods lazily back at me with a half lidded gaze from the bed while I stand in the doorway and I frown because I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He keeps saying he’s just sick, and even if that’s just the case, it sucks because whenever he gets sick it’s like 10 times worse than anyone else because he never gets sick and yes my thoughts are big run-on sentences but whatever that’s what happens when you’re worried about the ones you love. Perfect grammar and such things simply are irrelevant.
I just don’t know what to do with myself. I keep running back and forth between our room and the kitchen asking Benji if he needs anything. He’ll decline, but then open up the blankets on the bed for me to join him and I do… until he falls asleep, but then I can’t help myself. I drift back down into the kitchen and turn the TV on or something. Then Benji will come limping to where I am, holding his chest. He’s taken aspirin and even some cold medicine, but he still seems sick to me. I won’t get angry at him, just slightly annoyed as I help him back into bed. I know he doesn’t want to be alone, but I don’t know what I should do while he sleeps soundly all next to me. I don’t really remember what I used to do at night, when Benji was sleeping. I would stare at the ceiling and look towards the windows. I would think of songs I used to know. I would think of thoughts I had at certain times… and then the voices stepped in.
But without the voices, what am I supposed to do? I have nothing to fight, I have nothing to not sleep over… should I just sleep? But I’m not tired. I don’t know how to sleep when I’m not even tired.
I lean against the door frame as Benji tries desperately to stay awake. I think he caught on to my, ‘you’re falling asleep, I’m gonna leave act.’ I can’t let him do this though. He needs to sleep.
Then the thought occurs to me. It hits me hard and I realize how fucking ignorant I am. Here I am complaining about not knowing what to do because I don’t have fucking mental voices attacking my head. Benji was there for me through it all. He held me in pain regardless of the fact I couldn’t even sleep. He would stay up at night and talk to me until he was literally talking in his sleep so I wouldn’t have to be alone for more than I absolutely had to be… and even then he would wake up and check on me. Even if it was just a simple roll over and pat my arm, his constantly concerned eyes would open and connect with mine and in those brief seconds I’d try to show him I was alright. And on those certain night where couldn’t fight the pain, Benji was there for me. I can’t even imagine how he must have felt when I had snuck out of bed and cut myself… oh my god. What am I doing? No shit Benji can’t sleep, here I am sneaking out of the bed and getting annoyed when he comes and finds me. He has to find me though, because he’s scared. Even though I’ve beaten the voices, it hasn’t left him totally. Hell, it hasn’t even left me. A decade of evil is bound to leave some traces… some long lasting effect. Some scars.
How ignorant am I?
Without another thought I’m climbing back into our bed. Without a care in the world, I crawl under the blankets and lay my head on my pillow. I pull my brother’s worn out body into mine and hold him so his back is pressed against my chest. He fights to turn around and face me though, so I let him. Our eyes meet; his ever concerned as always.
“Are you okay?” he asks me. A slow smile warms up my face and somehow I can see a hint of happiness polished in his beautiful brown eyes.
“Of course I’m okay,” I whisper leaning in to peck his lips. He pecks back.
“I just… I’m tired but I want you to stay with me,” he says sounding so fragile I don’t know what to do with myself… but in a good way. Not the way I felt before. It’s hard to explain. His eyes avert downwards with its really sideways considering where lying down, but whatever… you know what I mean.
“Don’t worry Benj, I’m staying right here no matter what,” I assure him speaking softly as to ease him to sleep. One of my hands trails up and down his back, rubbing his neck softly though it’s kind of awkward. However, he closes his eyes, his mouth showing this light smiley bliss. I rest my hand on his back again and just go over all the feature of his face. His perfect black hair, frizzy, but at the same time he still looks good. His pouty lips and faultless nose. The flawless creamy colored skin that I have to fight the urge to touch. There’s nothing I can find wrong about him. And I could stay here and just look at him for hours on end and never get bored.
So I do…
How can I ever not be here for him?
I make a resolution to myself, to never deny him anything. From this point forward it’s him before me and that’s how it has to be. That’s all that he deserves. Actually, he deserves more, but it’s all that I can give him.
I eventually fall asleep. I know… I'm amazed too.
Chapter 6:
"Baby. Babe wake up," Benji's soothing voice calls out to me from the rusty well my mind drifted off into. The sandman must really hate me because my dreams suck. There's no great big descriptive word for it. They just... they're so bland and mean nothing. I can remember when I was younger, before the voices came and drove my life into ruins; I used to have real dreams. Meaningless stories about worthless fantasies. Benji always says dreams come true, but none of my dreams have ever come true. Not that that comes as some kind of great surprise. No... I'm not put off that my dreams lay forgotten about in some pool in the back of my mind. I understand that majority of my years were spent confined to a house. Aptly, this house, which even though I hate, I've realized I've grown a fond and odd sentiment to it.
My eyes squint open and blurry mirages of swarming colors slowly turn into real shapes as they focus. My eyes, oddly enough, automatically find Benji's and I feel his gentle hand running over the top of my head, his fingers weaving through my hair in a more than soothing manner- a comforting one as well. In a loving way.
"You know you we slept all the rest of yesterday away?" Benji asks in an amused tone. I perk up slightly, off guard and genuinely surprised. I look over to my left at the window and the bright light shining through it. I take in the sun as it creeps up upon every surface giving everything a second tone and making things brighter. I turn back to Benji smiling.
"Are you feeling better?" I move my body up so I'm level with him as oppose to being halfway down his body. Even when we fall asleep with him snuggled up to me, I always end up on top of him. I think it's just our muscle memory, switching on in our sleep molding us together until we fit just right. It's our normal. Benji smiles so fucking wide and big and his teeth are showing.
"Mhmm, and you took care of me so well," he grins. He leans over to me and presses his lips to mine. I kiss him back and when he pulls away, he's still got that toothy look on his face, unable to wipe it away.
"Why the fuck are you in such a good mood?"
"Do you know what day it is?" Benji's looking at my eyes excitedly. I shake my head laughingly. He knows damn well, I never have a clue what day of the week it is let alone what date of the month or the year and damn. I have a hard enough time figuring out how old I am and- I should just shut up because god knows I can go on.
"It's March 11th mister. We are officially 23 babe," Benji tells me, not in a hurt at all by the fact that I didn't know. No, he doesn't mind at all. He understands.
I open my mouth, but I'm speechless. Am I happy? Sad? I honestly don't know. Normally Benji barely acknowledges the date we were born, some years he maybe made a little fattening treat, more for himself than me. I couldn't eat it... wouldn't to save him from the burden of having to watch me throw it back up. I didn't need him to watch me heave for hours at his expense.
So I'm unsure still I'm thinking and I bet my blank head is easily being conveyed by my facial features and solemn eyes. I feel a hand on my cheek and I lean into the touch closing them so Benji can't read me.
"You're 23," he reminds me placing a firm kiss on my forehead. My eyes open but I close my eyes never wanting to forget how that feels. How he feels. “So… if you’re up to it, I kinda just made plans for us…” Benji tells me in a small hopeful voice. My eyes catch his, scanning them acutely.
“W- what is it?” I question cautiously letting him know without saying it that I’m unsure and scared. I won’t deny that. Benji’s hand is back on my face, the back of his index finger running lazily over my cheek, down the bridge of my nose. Wherever he pleases. It feels nice.
“Just going out to dinner with Billy and Paul,” Benji replies breathlessly. He looks at my face, but not at my eyes. I think he’s scared I’ll say no I can’t and I know if I do I’ll disappoint him.
“I.” I take a slow deep breath looking over to the wall. “I’ll go,” I say at it and before I can comprehend what’s going on Benji is squeezing my body so tight and squealing happily, the noise penetrating the air and reaching my ears. My face is pressed into his neck and I get a whiff of him and I allow myself to smile. It’s not one of those big overpowering smiles I’ve been coming to enjoy lately. But it’s a small one.
“You amaze me Joel.”
Chapter 7:
“Madden?” Benji’s asks the grotesque lady behind the podium. She’s blonde with hooker-red lipstick smeared over lips accenting um, her dull grayish eyes and way-too-pale face? I don’t know why any restaurant would let a woman that looks like that greet their customers and if the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach isn’t bad enough, this just adds to it. Tenfold.
I tense up. Benji feels it. Well of course he can feel it considering I’m pressed into his side, clinging to him like I have a limp and forgot my crutches and in some way. I did. I’m out in the open without anything holding me up. I love going outside these days, don’t get me wrong- but my house is only a mile away in that sense and right now I think we’re at least 10 miles away and I’m not a marathon runner. Hell, I run like a fat kid with asthma. And me behind the wheel of a vehicle is as good as a drunken 7 year old. I’m nervous. I’m scared. I’m fucking one step away from shaking…
“Joel?” Someone’s pulling on my arm. I look up quick. Jerkily.
“Hey… come on.”
It’s Benji. Just Benji. I smile at him, one of my convincing, fake smiles that I’m surprised he’s even letting me get away with. I follow him to a private room, my eyes scanning my surroundings, my body naturally keeping a safe distance away from anyone that isn’t my brother. I want to hold his hand; to grab on to him for dear life. But we’re kind of twins and look at least like brothers so it’s not right to do certain things in public.
I don’t know how we really got here, but before my brain has a chance to catch up, I’m sitting at a table with Billy and Paul who both felt it necessary to hug me upon arrival. Benji was only a step away, but still… I can feel their slightly larger and slightly skinnier frames against my skin and I really need to stop. I’m being really mean. I need to stop bitching about everything because they’re the ones doing this for me. Billy and Paul are good people.
The waitress that led us here is still present in the room. After she gawks over Paul and Billy because, oh yeah, they’re famous. She asks us what Benji and I want to drink. I just look at her. She’s a fucking stick. Anorexic girls should not work at restaurants. I’m staring. Benji’s ordering for me.
“Happy Birthday, man!” Paul’s says for the 3rd time. I look at him a smile about to open my mouth and say something for the first time because when Paul looks me in the eye, he’s a genuine guy and-
“Thanks,” Benji speaks for us. I look over at him, then back at Paul.
“Yeah… thanks man,” I smile. Now Benji’s the one shooting me a look.
“So what have you guys been up to?” I ask them and without having to say more, Billy and Paul fall into an animated conversation about their band mates and how they have dreams of stabbing them while they sleep.
“I mean, I think Joey-al forgets that I fuckin’ know where he sleeps. He’s right below me and if a knife just so happens to fall out of my bunk and into his chest. That’s gotta fall under some bus insurance policy right?” Paul laughs at himself and the rest of us all join in.
Wow. I can do this. As long as it’s just Billy and Paul, I can definitely do this. The waitress comes back with me and Benji’s drinks and I smile and thank her. She may be skinny, but now that I take the time to really look at her, she’s not that bad. She’s got pretty brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. She smiles back at me, showing off straight teeth and a killer smile. I feel Benji’s eyes trying to catch mine, but I’m avoiding them. I don’t really know why, but I have a general idea and I don’t wanna deal with it. What it is… When the waitress leaves, it’s silent for a long moment. Tension between Benji and I rising, but I don’t think it’s spreading, just growing thick between our two bodies, almost like holding us together, yet pushing me away.
“You guys are 23,” Billy suddenly says shaking his head and having a swig of Budweiser. I shake my head as well coming to a realization that I swear to god, almost makes me cry.
“I kind of never thought this day would happen.”
I didn’t intend on actually saying that out loud, but that sensation where a thought just hits you too hard for you to keep it inside, is was way to overpowering at that second. It still is, but I’m aware of it now and keep any other reflections in my head.
I look across the table to Billy and Paul’s watering eyes and they’re smiling sadly at me. Suddenly a noise comes from my side. My left side where Benji always positions himself to me.
It’s one of those strangled yelping noises and I face Benji so abruptly, I knock into him. I didn’t recognize how close he was to me. He must have been scooting in his chair the whole 10 minutes we’ve been here. Anyway, he’s suddenly hunched over the table holding his face in his delicate hands and oh my god, why have I have been ignoring him again?
I turn on my seat so my body is facing him and pull him into me. He falls against my body limply and I hold him in my arms the best I can.
“Benj, what’s wrong?” I whisper. He lifts himself up slightly, pulling back with still tearing eyes, a soft hand caressing my cheek.
“I’m just so glad you’re here,” he whimpers. I get that feeling like I just kicked a puppy. Scratch that, I feel like I just kicked a blind man’s three-legged, seeing-eye dog or something totally, horrendously discourteous and impolite that I don’t deserve to live.
Paul and Billy excuse themselves to the bathroom, and I’m thankful because Benji and I need a moment.
“I just, I need to get used to you getting better,” he says; his voice slowly pulling out of its tightness while making a lump grow in mine. “Not needing me so much.”
“Oh god, Benji,” I try to speak over the swelling bulge in my throat, but it doesn’t work and now salty tears are forming in my own eye lids. “I always need you,” I tell him honestly looking straight in his eyes knowing that this whole time, if I didn’t feel that presence at my left side, or those eyes staring curiously at my profile, I’d be crying in the corner like I was that damn puppy I just kicked. “We just… we got to adjust,” I shrug. Benji nods his head slowly in understanding and we plunge ourselves into an awkward embrace do to our sitting positions. I bite down on my lip, close my eyes, sniff his scent and just feel him there for me. Keeping me strong. I lied before, Benji isn’t like my crutches, he is my crutch and damn me for ever forgetting that.
“Think you’re up for a beer?” he asks once we’ve both regained our composure. Ha, I’m twenty-fucking-three. Take that damn mental disorder!
I laugh, full out. “As long as you’re with me I’m game for anything.”
“Happy Birthday Joely.”
“Same to you, Benj.”
Chapter 8:
Benji is playing the guitar in the living room while I finish writing an email to Billy and Paul. Paul is the one that originally starts the email, but then Billy ends up with random notes in parenthesis. Once again, they’re complaining about their stupid band mates and I’m really starting to question why they even stick around with these guys if they hate them so much. So I ask them that when I write back. Apparently they’re finishing up their tour and then taking a bit of time off before they go back into the studio and ‘go at it all over again.’ I say good luck and tell them Benji says, ‘hey’ before I send it and close the laptop on my lap. One of Benji’s presents to me. I told him he really didn’t have to because I didn’t get him anything, but he insisted. I guess mom still pays for the house or whatever and he’s been saving up money for me. I wish I had money to spend on him.
“You need to get connected to the world,” he explained shrugging while telling me all about things like ‘MySpace’ and ‘Facebook’ and other random things. The only thing I really found useful was my Yahoo account that he created. There’s silence between the two of us. The only sounds are coming from his guitar as he picks into a pretty melody. I place the laptop on the floor and lean back into the chair, closing my eyes and just listening to the music. Before I can stop myself I’m humming some kind of tune creating an almost sinister harmony to the notes being played from the guitar. When the music stops, I stop humming and open my eyes. I look over to the couch, where Benji is and he’s frozen staring at me with wide eyes.
“What?” I question immediately worried because that look can’t be good. I know that look. That’s never good. “What’s wrong?” Surprisingly enough, Benji shakes his head vigorously.
“Absolutely nothing,” he replies strumming down on a random chord once, like he’s clearing his thoughts or something. I don’t know, I’m him twin, I can kind of tell these things. Find the hidden explanations behind mannerisms without asking…
“Then why’d you give me that look?” I crease my brow in curiosity, sitting up and pulling my legs under my body. I lean over the side on the arm chair, right arm resting on the arm rest, cradling my head within it.
“I didn’t give you a look?” Benji says reproachful. I raise an eyebrow.
“Sure you didn’t.” Sarcasm Benji. You totally gave me a look.
“I really didn’t! Not a bad one anyway,” he says.
“Then what kind of look was it?” I ask in a mildly demanding tone of voice.
Benji looks small for a moment and I realize how loud I just was. “I just thought you sounded really good. If you were making that up- it just sounded really good,” he explains quickly and very quiet. I sigh.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” I quickly apologize. “And thanks,” I fight back a blush.
“I forgot that you used to sing.”
The words hang heavy in the air. I let the sound of them sink in before I look down at the ground. Hell, I forgot I used to sing. But I did, and I remember now. Christmas time. That’s when I used to sing.
“Benji, shut up!” I’d demand as I knew my favorite part was coming up.
“You shut up!” Benji would counter back and shove me away from my permanent seat directly in front of the TV. Mom never really cared to tell us it was bad for our eyes and even if she did, I probably wasn’t listening. Benji and I would watch our favorite Christmas movie every morning come the first of December till Christmas Day. The Year Without A Santa Claus, if I remember it so.
But that was years ago, before the voices even. It seems so hard to remember… but I do.
I'm Mister White Christmas
I'm Mister Snow
I'm Mister Icicle
I'm Mister Ten Below
Friends call me Snow Miser,
What ever I touch
Turns to snow in my clutch
I'm too much!
I start laughing because, oh my god, I’m twenty-fucking-three mentally reciting the Snow Miser Christmas Song. If that’s not in the dictionary under pathetic than I dunno what is?
“What’s so funny?” Benji breaks my thoughts and my laughs turn to silence.
“Just thinking about Christmas back in the day… Watching the The Year Without A Santa Claus,” I admit, shyly, trailing off. Benji lips break into a smile.
“You were Snow Miser and I was the Heat guy, right?” He questions. I nod my head.
“Wait, okay. So, I'm Mister Green Christmas, I’m mister sun,” Benji starts singing. I lean into my chair, throw my head back and laugh. I bite my lip, wanting to sing with him, but unsure. Scared even.
“I'm Mister Heat Blister; I'm Mister Hundred and One,” Benji continues and there’s that edge to his voice I can pick up on. I know he’s trying to get me to sing with him.
Still smiling, I close my eyes for a long moment before giving in.
“They call me Heat Miser; what ever I touch; starts to melt in my clutch; I'm too much!”
We continue on with the song, stumbling over the words that we don’t remember. We then proceed to do the songs in reverse order. By the middle of the Snow Miser Song, I’m standing on the table, acting out whatever I can and Benji is and giggling like a goddamn 5 year old girl at me, fighting to catch his breath. I feel really good. Really happy.
“You have to sing more, Joely. ‘Cause I said so,” Benji declares.
Chapter 9:
So I’ve been thinking about what Benji was saying… about singing more. And then I got thinking about the riff he was playing on the guitar and the two things kind of came together in my head, all at once like, ‘BAM’ and I just got it. It hit me like it was my calling and I thought, Why didn’t I think of this before? I might have even said that out loud.
I want to write a song.
I really do. And even if I don’t really know exactly what’s trendy in the music scene, that’s not what matters. Music is music and as long as someone likes it, even if only one person, if that song means something to them, then it’s worth it. Right? Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?
I’ve never actually tried to write anything before, but in my ears, all I can hear is that damn melody… Benji’s strumming pattern literally stuck in my head like, “It’s a small world after all,” except less annoying, more bearable.
I’m just lying down on the couch, my head resting on Benji’s lap as I think my mini-plan through. Benji’s absentmindedly brushing his fingers through my hair, humming one of the songs from Billy and Paul’s bands profile on MySpace. There’s an explanation behind that…
Benji decided that the house needed to be cleaned, and what came as a big disappointment? I still can’t stand the sound of a vacuum cleaner. It just puts noise in my head and immediately started freaking out.
The whole thing was a sore reminder of what my life used to be like and I couldn’t help it. I started crying uncontrollably. Benji, without a second thought, pulled the plug and rushed over to my side, holding me to his body and trying to get me to calm down. I closed my eyes and thought to myself, I’m better now. There aren’t any voices. My head is my own, and as corny as that may sound, it worked. I kept on repeating that mantra and soon even I was sniffling and wiping my eyes.
“You okay? I’m sorry babe, it’s my fault, I totally forgot. God, I’m so stupid sometimes, I really am sorry,” Benji rambled repeating over and over his apology. I broke away from him for a second and sat up, shaking my head.
“It’s fine, not your fault,” I choked out.
It took about 15 minutes for Benji to be convinced that I was fine and another 10 minutes after that for me to convince him it wasn’t his fault and then, after that… about 20 minutes for me to convince him to try to vacuum again while I’ll blast some music and we’ll see what happens.
Needless to say, my plan worked.
We washed the windows, and used that lemon smelling stuff on all the wood. Swept the kitchen floor, did a couple loads of laundry…
“Wutcha’ thinkin’ about?” Benji catches me totally off guard and I have to shake my head and squint up at him.
“Huh?”
“What are you thinking about?” he asks again… curious. Not worried. Dude, now those are weird thoughts. Benji not worried about me? Can you believe it?
“Nothing really,” I shrug because really, I’ve been thinking a lot about lots of things, but I don’t want Benji to know that I want to write a song and what does he really care if I mentally think over the day’s events. I liked what we did today, it made me feel normal.
“Doesn’t look like nothing…”
“Can’t I have my own thoughts?” I question him folding my arms across my chest and looking up at his face, which is sideways to mine.
“I guess,” he grumbles and pouts.
“You guess? You telling me every time a thought crosses my mind, I have to okay it with you?”
At this Benji laughs. “No, I’m just kidding, you know that,” he says. I laugh a little too.
“I know.”
We revert back to silence. I look passed his head, up to the ceiling for a long moment. It’s a comfortable silence and I sink back into it. Benji runs his fingers through my hair again. I unfold my arms and kind of snuggle in to him, letting my eyes close shut.
I’m not even that tired, but I sleep.
Chapter 10:
I’m really starting to grow fond of these lazy days where we mosey around the house and do whatever we feel necessary. Benji’s been playing guitar more and more as each day passes, elaborating and growing as a musician every step of the way. It’s amazing watching him develop his skills. A simple chord progression turns into so much more as he learns new things he can do. I listen to them and take it in. He teaches me simple things. I can play ‘A’ through ‘G’ as open chords and bars. I can strum, (who can’t?) but it’s minor to anything Benji does. I’ve probably said this before, but let me say it again… I admire him. He’s so unique and idea’s just come to him. I sit in the armchair I’ve deemed mine with a pen in my hand and a notebook on my lap doodling for the most part. The words just haven’t come to me yet… I’ve tried to write this song that’s plays non-stop in my head, but every time I try, the words come out the wrong way. Whatever I’m writing just stops being what my original intention was and then it sucks and I crumple up the paper and throw it away.
I just want my writing to mean something… and if it doesn’t mean anything to me, how can it mean something to someone else. That’s why I don’t understand the function of having people write music for you and calling yourself a musician. What’s so special about that? You can sing a song that someone else wrote, so what? Where’s the heart in that? Where’s the talent? It seems to me that it's easier to be a singer because to be a musician, you have to make music, not just perform it. Making music isn’t just reading notes on a piece a paper. Making music is playing an instrument or using your voice and throwing yourself into it. Breaking the boundaries. Creating something unique. Making 'it' your own.
God, I'm getting really into this, but it’s something I believe in. And after being lost for year after year it’s nice to believe. To let my brain wander the horizons of whatever I want it to. Thinking freely is a fucking privilege and so many people take advantage of it.
But I don't and I'm not saying that it makes me any better than anyone else. It's hard to explain. I'm thankful for it... but it'd be nice to be like everyone else. To not have to remember those days...
"Joel?"
I look up from the corner of the room where I've been absently staring at and find Benji leaning on the entry way from the kitchen watching me with a smile in his eyes.
"Yeah?"
He takes that as an invitation to join me, which it pretty much is; I don't care.
"What's up?" I ask him while he joins me on the couch. He rests his feet on the table, and sinks back into the cushions. I feel the couch shift under his weight as I slide slightly closer to him. Oh well... I rest my head on his shoulder while he laces our fingers together. This might sound weird, but I always feel stronger when he holds my hand.
"Paul and Billy quit their band," he says in a sad tone, like he’s sorry for them. Damn, I knew they hated their band mates, but I never really thought they'd quit.
"What happened?" My eyes are back to staring at the corner but I feel safer and better with Benji sitting next to me.
"I dunno, I just got off the phone with Billy. Chuck and Dean I guess picked a fight with the two of them having their own group within the band... Paul and Billy got offended and just quit," he explains with a shrug of his shoulder that makes me lift my head up.
"A group within the band? So what, some people are closer than others, big deal." Benji laughs.
"That's what you'd think. Those guys were jerks anyway."
"Yeah, I suppose, but what are Billy and Paul gonna do?" I wonder out load with concern.
"That's the thing..." Benji starts and by the tone of his voice, I know something is on his mind. I don't know why I didn't pick up on it before.
"What?"
"They invited us to the studio next week."
Silence. My hand goes limp in Benji's hand. "Us, or you. You right? You just won't go anywhere without me, right?" I start rambling out loud losing the fight to keep all of this in my head.
"Um, us," Benji clarifies. I open my mouth to speak but find myself unable to correctly articulate anything that sounds like English.
"Oh."
Silence... till Benji breaks it.
"If you don't wanna go, I totally understand."
Oh god. I can hear it in his voice. How much he wants this. This is like his dream isn't it? Joel, are you that selfish. It's not like you're being asked that much. You’re just gonna go to a studio. And you love Benji and Benji's does so much for you. Hell, he gave up just as much of his life as you had to suffer. You owe it to him.
"No, we'll go. It's just, caught off guard. I was surprised," I make it clear to him. Even if it is a slight lie. It’s one of those good lies. I think…
Benji squeezes my hand and sits up on the couch so he can turn and face me. I take my eyes off the wall and look at him. I can see the smile there still lingering in his eyes and literally feels his happiness raining over me.
"You're amazing, Joel. I wish I could remember to tell you that every day," Benji whispers. He kisses me then, right on the lips, but I break it by smiling at his words, unable to control myself.
"Thanks Benj," I say looking down between us before meeting his eyes again. Benji's hand touches my cheek running his thumb under my eye.
"Thank you, Joel." He says. "Thank you."
Whoa. Okay then. That should getcha all caught up. Please review!!!!
Author: x_tired_crazy_x
Sumary: Joel's finally taken a step outside. The sun is bright, the birds are chirping. It's absolutely beautiful. So how come he still feels broken?
Sequel to Sedated.
Disclaimer: This is fiction.
Sedated
1
2
Chapter 3:
"Joel!" Arms. Around me. They're not Benji's and it's weird. They're skinnier; they're Billy's arms. Billy's hugging me. That's okay. It's just Billy. My childhood friend. Just Billy. I'm okay. He's okay. We're all okay. Right? Right Joel? Yes, yes I am.
The arms let go of me. Whew. Okay, now it's Paul's turn. It's Paul's slightly-chubbier-than-Benji's arms that are around me. He doesn't hug me as tight as Billy but still, I find myself mentally freaking out because that's what Joel does... along with refer to himself in the third person in times of near mental breaks downs.
But Joel's not breaking down. No. He's really not.
But neither am I perfectly comfortable. Definitely not comfortable.
"It's been so long, you look great," Billy says after giving Benji a hug.
"Thanks," I mumble looking downwards towards my sock covered feet.
"The house looks nice," Paul now speculates, his eyes scanning the walls and I do too.
"Joel and I just finished cleaning," Benji explains. We all migrate over to the couches and I automatically sit next to Benji who grabs my hand leaning into me while Billy and Paul still look around.
"You okay babe?" he asks the concern ever present as always. Will that ever go away?
"Yeah, I'm fine," I tell him coming off a bit annoyed. I'm fine. I am fine. I need to believe it and I'm having a hard time.
"So what have you guys been up to?" I wonder. I really haven't talked to them since I was like, 14?
"Eh, same old," Paul claims and it takes a second for him to realize that I don't know what the 'Same Old' would be.
"Well we just got off tour with the band, so we've just been relaxing and pretty much doing nothing for the last couple weeks," Billy explains to me.
"The band?" I question confused as ever. Benji still is holding my hand and he kinda gives me a reassuring squeeze.
"He doesn't know?" Paul asks Benji surprised.
"Well he doesn't watch TV and I never really got around to telling him," Benji shrugs looking at me from the corner of his eye.
"What?" I look at all of them.
"They've got a band. They're pretty fucken huge. Record sales through the roof. TV appearances the whole sha-bang," Benji tells me.
"Yeah but our lead singer is an asshole..." Billy says.
"Though the public wouldn't know," Paul interjects mumbling.
Wow. I had no freaking clue about that one.
"That's awesome," I say kinda in awe.
"You should come to one of our shows sometime," Paul says and suddenly Billy coughs really loudly. "I mean, if you feel up to it," he adds hastily.
I roll my eyes because obviously Benji said something to them and I know that they know all about me and stuff and I don't mind talk about what I've gone through. What I'm going through, I'd rather keep to myself. There's a difference.
"You guys don't have to pussyfoot around it; you can talk about it," I tell them all monotone. Benji sits up in his seat because I know he's surprised.
"Well," Billy looks at me speaking really slowly. "What was like... wrong with you?" he asks. I shrug at this.
"I dunno. Severe depression and an anal brain that seemed to hate me all the time," I find this funny but the only response I get are these looks like they don't know whether to laugh or cry. I decide to continue. "I was just stuck in this mind frame... I was pretty much afraid of everything. You remember when I was a kid Benj, how dad would always cut me down 'nd shit?" Benji nods accordingly. "Well I don't know, I was just afraid of growing up and really afraid of myself and it escalated and escalated until I didn't have control anymore. The fear did," I tell them leaving out the voices. Benji brings my hand up to his lips and kisses it all softly. I look at Billy and Paul and they look sad. I don't want them to be sad. I don't want pity over it. It's in the past.
"But I'm better now, realizing what's wrong allowed me to understand. To control my head. I have control and I know that so it's all good," I explain.
"Well that's good," Billy comments and I smile.
"Definitely," I agree.
We talk for hour, I don't even know how much time passes before we're saying good-bye to them and this time when Paul and Billy give me hugs I don't freak out. Well not nearly as bad... We make plans to get together again two days from now and Benji seems really excited about it and even happier because it was my idea. I invited them and to him, I’m pretty sure it makes it that much better. Even if I do get annoyed with him, I still love it when he's proud of me. As childish as that is, I don't care. I missed out on a good childhood so this makes up for it.
The two of us retire to our bedroom where we strip down and get under the sheets with ease. Just as I'm about to close my eyes, Benji clears his throat.
"Joel," he rolls over so he's facing me. I open my eyes.
"Yeah?"
"Do you think we could talk about it sometime?"
Once again, the past 10 years are being referred to as 'it' but I don't really mind. I can't because I don't even no what to call them. They're so… I don't know. Benji does deserve to know everything about what I've gone through. Hell, he was there, but at the same time, to talk about it with just him scares me. I don't exactly know why.
"Um, yeah. Of course... Just, not right now I'm really tired," I tell him and he smiles.
"Me too," he yawns lazily. He falls down next to me and rests his arm on my stomach. I'm pretty sure I fall asleep first which is unusual but then again, it's been a long day for me and I really need this sleep.
Chapter 4:
The sun shines really bright through the curtain and I wake up squinting my eyes trying to move out of the line of fire. Fall seems to come and takes no mercy. The tree that once blocked the invading rays of light, now stands barren as winter promises to turn all the plant life into a definite wasteland. But I like the winter. I'm hoping for a winter wonderland style somewhere. I like the short cold days and the long freezing nights. Being covered by countless blankets only finding true warmth with Benji's arms around me keeping me safe. Nighttime is by far a general favorite of mine. For years when I couldn't sleep, I'd just sit around alone. Since it was dark I loved to look out the windows longing to take a step outside myself. As much as I miss my hardcore nightlife right there, I definitely also enjoy getting my sleep. Sleep is a happy addition to my general list of necessities. Sleep used to be a gift; it’s really nice to be able to drift off so easily.
Benji rolls over onto his back so I can easily see his face. He looks generally content and beautiful as always. His black hair is kinda greasy looking but not disgustingly gross or anything. His forehead is sweating so some of his hair is sticking to his face. Ever so gently I remove the hair from his face surprise at how warm his forehead feels. Like... he's really hot right now. His eyes squint together and his breathing pattern breaks.
"MmmmJoel?" he groans in a crackly voice. I furrow my brow.
"Are you okay?" I immediately wonder. His eyes meet mine as they open and they're all blood shot.
"I dunno, I feel sick," he complains reaching a hand to his head and wiping away the sweat. "I think I'm-"
Benji doesn't have to finish his sentence for me to immediately help him to his feet where he suffers from dizzy spells. He's barely able to walk on his own to the bathroom without me catering to him. As soon as we get to the bathroom he saunters forward till he's above the toilet and empties the contents of his stomach. I look away because come on, people puking is disgusting, even if it his my brother. When I glance at him again, he's on his knees praising the porcelain god.
"You okay?" I dare to ask taking a half step forward. He wipes his mouth looking up at me with a helpless face. "Benji?" I question while slowly making my way to the toilet. He leans over the bowl dry heaving now and coming from someone who felt the need to puke for hours on end with an empty stomach, dry heaving fucking sucks. Benji does one of those choked cough things and my hand on impulse finds it's way to his back gently rubbing slow small circles.
"Joel..." Benji just barely manages to say my name. Worry clouds all my thoughts.
"Benji, I'm gonna go get some water," I say because water always helps and I kinda want to get away from his vomit. He flushes the toilet as I turn my back. Just as I leave our room I hear him heaving up again and fuck. I'm worried. A fever and puking is never the sign of a good thing. Trust me, I would know. I hate getting sick. It's just disgusting and burns your throat as it comes back up. I hope Benji's okay. He's barely ever sick... or even gets a cough. But it's not even Benji being sick that scares me the most. Most above all, I don't think I'd know how to take care of him. I don't know how to be there for him. Sure, I can get him water, and make him soup but that isn't taking care of someone. It's more, isn't it?
Benji always made taking care of me more than just a helping hand. It was his job, though he would never admit it. I bet he still thinks of it as his job even if I'm all better. Well... getting better.
I reach the kitchen, grabbing above the sink for a cup, turning on the tap to fill it up. I turn the water off and walk back to our room wincing at the noises coming from the bathroom. But I don't want Benji to think I'm grossed out by him. I bite my tongue for a second and take a deep breath before walking back in the bathroom. Benji's still sitting on the ground near the toilet so I crouch down and hand him the cup. He flushes the toilet.
"Here you go, get it down," I tell him as he grabs the water from me. He immediately swallows half the cup down taking a second to breathe afterwards, then downing the rest. He looks over to me and I offer him and gentle smile now biting the insides of my cheeks and lips. Nervous habit I suppose. I don't know.
"Feeling better?" I ask hopefully. Benji nods slowly yet my brow is still creased. I stand up and look at myself in the mirror, scowling briefly before shaking my head and spotting Benji's tooth brush. Shrugging I take mine too and put toothpaste on both of them, running them under the water for a second and then handing Benji his and keeping mine. We brush our teeth at the same time. I keep an eye on him as I do mine, finishing before him I spit and rinse. Next, I take the cup I gave him before I fill the cup up with water. Benji takes it, using it to rinse and I grab his brush and put in under the running water. Once both our brushes are back in the holding I turn to Benji.
"Do you want to lay down?" I guess if I was sick that's what I would want to do. Now that I can sleep. I imagine puking is a very tiring activity. You see before, I didn't have a choice what I did. The... the voices wouldn't let me sleep so majority of the time after I got sick I'd just sit at the kitchen table burping and disgusted with myself.
"Please," Benji croaks in broken, ripped sounding voice. I can't explain it, but you know how people sound when they get sick. It nearly hurts your ears. I flinch hearing him speak like that, but quickly offer a helping hand so he can get to his feet. As soon as he's standing, he wraps his arms around me hugging me to him. I tense up because fast fluid movements are still mildly unexpected. Slowly, with Benji leaning most of his weight on little me, we find ourselves on his side of the bed. It's really scaring me how weak he is. I help him lie down making sure to touch him all tenderly as to not upset his stomach. I run my fingers through his hair and look at him for a moment. Even sick he looks pretty. I pull the comforters over his body then crawl over to my side and lay down next to him. Again, he pulls me into his and kisses my forehead.
"Thank you for taking care of me," he says and I inhale and exhale really loudly unable to fight the smile... even if he can't see my face I know he feels it.
"You're welcome, Benji," I reply.
"Love you..."
"Love you too."
Chapter 5:
“Are you feeling better?” I ask cautiously with worried eyes. Benji nods lazily back at me with a half lidded gaze from the bed while I stand in the doorway and I frown because I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He keeps saying he’s just sick, and even if that’s just the case, it sucks because whenever he gets sick it’s like 10 times worse than anyone else because he never gets sick and yes my thoughts are big run-on sentences but whatever that’s what happens when you’re worried about the ones you love. Perfect grammar and such things simply are irrelevant.
I just don’t know what to do with myself. I keep running back and forth between our room and the kitchen asking Benji if he needs anything. He’ll decline, but then open up the blankets on the bed for me to join him and I do… until he falls asleep, but then I can’t help myself. I drift back down into the kitchen and turn the TV on or something. Then Benji will come limping to where I am, holding his chest. He’s taken aspirin and even some cold medicine, but he still seems sick to me. I won’t get angry at him, just slightly annoyed as I help him back into bed. I know he doesn’t want to be alone, but I don’t know what I should do while he sleeps soundly all next to me. I don’t really remember what I used to do at night, when Benji was sleeping. I would stare at the ceiling and look towards the windows. I would think of songs I used to know. I would think of thoughts I had at certain times… and then the voices stepped in.
But without the voices, what am I supposed to do? I have nothing to fight, I have nothing to not sleep over… should I just sleep? But I’m not tired. I don’t know how to sleep when I’m not even tired.
I lean against the door frame as Benji tries desperately to stay awake. I think he caught on to my, ‘you’re falling asleep, I’m gonna leave act.’ I can’t let him do this though. He needs to sleep.
Then the thought occurs to me. It hits me hard and I realize how fucking ignorant I am. Here I am complaining about not knowing what to do because I don’t have fucking mental voices attacking my head. Benji was there for me through it all. He held me in pain regardless of the fact I couldn’t even sleep. He would stay up at night and talk to me until he was literally talking in his sleep so I wouldn’t have to be alone for more than I absolutely had to be… and even then he would wake up and check on me. Even if it was just a simple roll over and pat my arm, his constantly concerned eyes would open and connect with mine and in those brief seconds I’d try to show him I was alright. And on those certain night where couldn’t fight the pain, Benji was there for me. I can’t even imagine how he must have felt when I had snuck out of bed and cut myself… oh my god. What am I doing? No shit Benji can’t sleep, here I am sneaking out of the bed and getting annoyed when he comes and finds me. He has to find me though, because he’s scared. Even though I’ve beaten the voices, it hasn’t left him totally. Hell, it hasn’t even left me. A decade of evil is bound to leave some traces… some long lasting effect. Some scars.
How ignorant am I?
Without another thought I’m climbing back into our bed. Without a care in the world, I crawl under the blankets and lay my head on my pillow. I pull my brother’s worn out body into mine and hold him so his back is pressed against my chest. He fights to turn around and face me though, so I let him. Our eyes meet; his ever concerned as always.
“Are you okay?” he asks me. A slow smile warms up my face and somehow I can see a hint of happiness polished in his beautiful brown eyes.
“Of course I’m okay,” I whisper leaning in to peck his lips. He pecks back.
“I just… I’m tired but I want you to stay with me,” he says sounding so fragile I don’t know what to do with myself… but in a good way. Not the way I felt before. It’s hard to explain. His eyes avert downwards with its really sideways considering where lying down, but whatever… you know what I mean.
“Don’t worry Benj, I’m staying right here no matter what,” I assure him speaking softly as to ease him to sleep. One of my hands trails up and down his back, rubbing his neck softly though it’s kind of awkward. However, he closes his eyes, his mouth showing this light smiley bliss. I rest my hand on his back again and just go over all the feature of his face. His perfect black hair, frizzy, but at the same time he still looks good. His pouty lips and faultless nose. The flawless creamy colored skin that I have to fight the urge to touch. There’s nothing I can find wrong about him. And I could stay here and just look at him for hours on end and never get bored.
So I do…
How can I ever not be here for him?
I make a resolution to myself, to never deny him anything. From this point forward it’s him before me and that’s how it has to be. That’s all that he deserves. Actually, he deserves more, but it’s all that I can give him.
I eventually fall asleep. I know… I'm amazed too.
Chapter 6:
"Baby. Babe wake up," Benji's soothing voice calls out to me from the rusty well my mind drifted off into. The sandman must really hate me because my dreams suck. There's no great big descriptive word for it. They just... they're so bland and mean nothing. I can remember when I was younger, before the voices came and drove my life into ruins; I used to have real dreams. Meaningless stories about worthless fantasies. Benji always says dreams come true, but none of my dreams have ever come true. Not that that comes as some kind of great surprise. No... I'm not put off that my dreams lay forgotten about in some pool in the back of my mind. I understand that majority of my years were spent confined to a house. Aptly, this house, which even though I hate, I've realized I've grown a fond and odd sentiment to it.
My eyes squint open and blurry mirages of swarming colors slowly turn into real shapes as they focus. My eyes, oddly enough, automatically find Benji's and I feel his gentle hand running over the top of my head, his fingers weaving through my hair in a more than soothing manner- a comforting one as well. In a loving way.
"You know you we slept all the rest of yesterday away?" Benji asks in an amused tone. I perk up slightly, off guard and genuinely surprised. I look over to my left at the window and the bright light shining through it. I take in the sun as it creeps up upon every surface giving everything a second tone and making things brighter. I turn back to Benji smiling.
"Are you feeling better?" I move my body up so I'm level with him as oppose to being halfway down his body. Even when we fall asleep with him snuggled up to me, I always end up on top of him. I think it's just our muscle memory, switching on in our sleep molding us together until we fit just right. It's our normal. Benji smiles so fucking wide and big and his teeth are showing.
"Mhmm, and you took care of me so well," he grins. He leans over to me and presses his lips to mine. I kiss him back and when he pulls away, he's still got that toothy look on his face, unable to wipe it away.
"Why the fuck are you in such a good mood?"
"Do you know what day it is?" Benji's looking at my eyes excitedly. I shake my head laughingly. He knows damn well, I never have a clue what day of the week it is let alone what date of the month or the year and damn. I have a hard enough time figuring out how old I am and- I should just shut up because god knows I can go on.
"It's March 11th mister. We are officially 23 babe," Benji tells me, not in a hurt at all by the fact that I didn't know. No, he doesn't mind at all. He understands.
I open my mouth, but I'm speechless. Am I happy? Sad? I honestly don't know. Normally Benji barely acknowledges the date we were born, some years he maybe made a little fattening treat, more for himself than me. I couldn't eat it... wouldn't to save him from the burden of having to watch me throw it back up. I didn't need him to watch me heave for hours at his expense.
So I'm unsure still I'm thinking and I bet my blank head is easily being conveyed by my facial features and solemn eyes. I feel a hand on my cheek and I lean into the touch closing them so Benji can't read me.
"You're 23," he reminds me placing a firm kiss on my forehead. My eyes open but I close my eyes never wanting to forget how that feels. How he feels. “So… if you’re up to it, I kinda just made plans for us…” Benji tells me in a small hopeful voice. My eyes catch his, scanning them acutely.
“W- what is it?” I question cautiously letting him know without saying it that I’m unsure and scared. I won’t deny that. Benji’s hand is back on my face, the back of his index finger running lazily over my cheek, down the bridge of my nose. Wherever he pleases. It feels nice.
“Just going out to dinner with Billy and Paul,” Benji replies breathlessly. He looks at my face, but not at my eyes. I think he’s scared I’ll say no I can’t and I know if I do I’ll disappoint him.
“I.” I take a slow deep breath looking over to the wall. “I’ll go,” I say at it and before I can comprehend what’s going on Benji is squeezing my body so tight and squealing happily, the noise penetrating the air and reaching my ears. My face is pressed into his neck and I get a whiff of him and I allow myself to smile. It’s not one of those big overpowering smiles I’ve been coming to enjoy lately. But it’s a small one.
“You amaze me Joel.”
Chapter 7:
“Madden?” Benji’s asks the grotesque lady behind the podium. She’s blonde with hooker-red lipstick smeared over lips accenting um, her dull grayish eyes and way-too-pale face? I don’t know why any restaurant would let a woman that looks like that greet their customers and if the bad feeling in the pit of my stomach isn’t bad enough, this just adds to it. Tenfold.
I tense up. Benji feels it. Well of course he can feel it considering I’m pressed into his side, clinging to him like I have a limp and forgot my crutches and in some way. I did. I’m out in the open without anything holding me up. I love going outside these days, don’t get me wrong- but my house is only a mile away in that sense and right now I think we’re at least 10 miles away and I’m not a marathon runner. Hell, I run like a fat kid with asthma. And me behind the wheel of a vehicle is as good as a drunken 7 year old. I’m nervous. I’m scared. I’m fucking one step away from shaking…
“Joel?” Someone’s pulling on my arm. I look up quick. Jerkily.
“Hey… come on.”
It’s Benji. Just Benji. I smile at him, one of my convincing, fake smiles that I’m surprised he’s even letting me get away with. I follow him to a private room, my eyes scanning my surroundings, my body naturally keeping a safe distance away from anyone that isn’t my brother. I want to hold his hand; to grab on to him for dear life. But we’re kind of twins and look at least like brothers so it’s not right to do certain things in public.
I don’t know how we really got here, but before my brain has a chance to catch up, I’m sitting at a table with Billy and Paul who both felt it necessary to hug me upon arrival. Benji was only a step away, but still… I can feel their slightly larger and slightly skinnier frames against my skin and I really need to stop. I’m being really mean. I need to stop bitching about everything because they’re the ones doing this for me. Billy and Paul are good people.
The waitress that led us here is still present in the room. After she gawks over Paul and Billy because, oh yeah, they’re famous. She asks us what Benji and I want to drink. I just look at her. She’s a fucking stick. Anorexic girls should not work at restaurants. I’m staring. Benji’s ordering for me.
“Happy Birthday, man!” Paul’s says for the 3rd time. I look at him a smile about to open my mouth and say something for the first time because when Paul looks me in the eye, he’s a genuine guy and-
“Thanks,” Benji speaks for us. I look over at him, then back at Paul.
“Yeah… thanks man,” I smile. Now Benji’s the one shooting me a look.
“So what have you guys been up to?” I ask them and without having to say more, Billy and Paul fall into an animated conversation about their band mates and how they have dreams of stabbing them while they sleep.
“I mean, I think Joey-al forgets that I fuckin’ know where he sleeps. He’s right below me and if a knife just so happens to fall out of my bunk and into his chest. That’s gotta fall under some bus insurance policy right?” Paul laughs at himself and the rest of us all join in.
Wow. I can do this. As long as it’s just Billy and Paul, I can definitely do this. The waitress comes back with me and Benji’s drinks and I smile and thank her. She may be skinny, but now that I take the time to really look at her, she’s not that bad. She’s got pretty brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. She smiles back at me, showing off straight teeth and a killer smile. I feel Benji’s eyes trying to catch mine, but I’m avoiding them. I don’t really know why, but I have a general idea and I don’t wanna deal with it. What it is… When the waitress leaves, it’s silent for a long moment. Tension between Benji and I rising, but I don’t think it’s spreading, just growing thick between our two bodies, almost like holding us together, yet pushing me away.
“You guys are 23,” Billy suddenly says shaking his head and having a swig of Budweiser. I shake my head as well coming to a realization that I swear to god, almost makes me cry.
“I kind of never thought this day would happen.”
I didn’t intend on actually saying that out loud, but that sensation where a thought just hits you too hard for you to keep it inside, is was way to overpowering at that second. It still is, but I’m aware of it now and keep any other reflections in my head.
I look across the table to Billy and Paul’s watering eyes and they’re smiling sadly at me. Suddenly a noise comes from my side. My left side where Benji always positions himself to me.
It’s one of those strangled yelping noises and I face Benji so abruptly, I knock into him. I didn’t recognize how close he was to me. He must have been scooting in his chair the whole 10 minutes we’ve been here. Anyway, he’s suddenly hunched over the table holding his face in his delicate hands and oh my god, why have I have been ignoring him again?
I turn on my seat so my body is facing him and pull him into me. He falls against my body limply and I hold him in my arms the best I can.
“Benj, what’s wrong?” I whisper. He lifts himself up slightly, pulling back with still tearing eyes, a soft hand caressing my cheek.
“I’m just so glad you’re here,” he whimpers. I get that feeling like I just kicked a puppy. Scratch that, I feel like I just kicked a blind man’s three-legged, seeing-eye dog or something totally, horrendously discourteous and impolite that I don’t deserve to live.
Paul and Billy excuse themselves to the bathroom, and I’m thankful because Benji and I need a moment.
“I just, I need to get used to you getting better,” he says; his voice slowly pulling out of its tightness while making a lump grow in mine. “Not needing me so much.”
“Oh god, Benji,” I try to speak over the swelling bulge in my throat, but it doesn’t work and now salty tears are forming in my own eye lids. “I always need you,” I tell him honestly looking straight in his eyes knowing that this whole time, if I didn’t feel that presence at my left side, or those eyes staring curiously at my profile, I’d be crying in the corner like I was that damn puppy I just kicked. “We just… we got to adjust,” I shrug. Benji nods his head slowly in understanding and we plunge ourselves into an awkward embrace do to our sitting positions. I bite down on my lip, close my eyes, sniff his scent and just feel him there for me. Keeping me strong. I lied before, Benji isn’t like my crutches, he is my crutch and damn me for ever forgetting that.
“Think you’re up for a beer?” he asks once we’ve both regained our composure. Ha, I’m twenty-fucking-three. Take that damn mental disorder!
I laugh, full out. “As long as you’re with me I’m game for anything.”
“Happy Birthday Joely.”
“Same to you, Benj.”
Chapter 8:
Benji is playing the guitar in the living room while I finish writing an email to Billy and Paul. Paul is the one that originally starts the email, but then Billy ends up with random notes in parenthesis. Once again, they’re complaining about their stupid band mates and I’m really starting to question why they even stick around with these guys if they hate them so much. So I ask them that when I write back. Apparently they’re finishing up their tour and then taking a bit of time off before they go back into the studio and ‘go at it all over again.’ I say good luck and tell them Benji says, ‘hey’ before I send it and close the laptop on my lap. One of Benji’s presents to me. I told him he really didn’t have to because I didn’t get him anything, but he insisted. I guess mom still pays for the house or whatever and he’s been saving up money for me. I wish I had money to spend on him.
“You need to get connected to the world,” he explained shrugging while telling me all about things like ‘MySpace’ and ‘Facebook’ and other random things. The only thing I really found useful was my Yahoo account that he created. There’s silence between the two of us. The only sounds are coming from his guitar as he picks into a pretty melody. I place the laptop on the floor and lean back into the chair, closing my eyes and just listening to the music. Before I can stop myself I’m humming some kind of tune creating an almost sinister harmony to the notes being played from the guitar. When the music stops, I stop humming and open my eyes. I look over to the couch, where Benji is and he’s frozen staring at me with wide eyes.
“What?” I question immediately worried because that look can’t be good. I know that look. That’s never good. “What’s wrong?” Surprisingly enough, Benji shakes his head vigorously.
“Absolutely nothing,” he replies strumming down on a random chord once, like he’s clearing his thoughts or something. I don’t know, I’m him twin, I can kind of tell these things. Find the hidden explanations behind mannerisms without asking…
“Then why’d you give me that look?” I crease my brow in curiosity, sitting up and pulling my legs under my body. I lean over the side on the arm chair, right arm resting on the arm rest, cradling my head within it.
“I didn’t give you a look?” Benji says reproachful. I raise an eyebrow.
“Sure you didn’t.” Sarcasm Benji. You totally gave me a look.
“I really didn’t! Not a bad one anyway,” he says.
“Then what kind of look was it?” I ask in a mildly demanding tone of voice.
Benji looks small for a moment and I realize how loud I just was. “I just thought you sounded really good. If you were making that up- it just sounded really good,” he explains quickly and very quiet. I sigh.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” I quickly apologize. “And thanks,” I fight back a blush.
“I forgot that you used to sing.”
The words hang heavy in the air. I let the sound of them sink in before I look down at the ground. Hell, I forgot I used to sing. But I did, and I remember now. Christmas time. That’s when I used to sing.
“Benji, shut up!” I’d demand as I knew my favorite part was coming up.
“You shut up!” Benji would counter back and shove me away from my permanent seat directly in front of the TV. Mom never really cared to tell us it was bad for our eyes and even if she did, I probably wasn’t listening. Benji and I would watch our favorite Christmas movie every morning come the first of December till Christmas Day. The Year Without A Santa Claus, if I remember it so.
But that was years ago, before the voices even. It seems so hard to remember… but I do.
I'm Mister White Christmas
I'm Mister Snow
I'm Mister Icicle
I'm Mister Ten Below
Friends call me Snow Miser,
What ever I touch
Turns to snow in my clutch
I'm too much!
I start laughing because, oh my god, I’m twenty-fucking-three mentally reciting the Snow Miser Christmas Song. If that’s not in the dictionary under pathetic than I dunno what is?
“What’s so funny?” Benji breaks my thoughts and my laughs turn to silence.
“Just thinking about Christmas back in the day… Watching the The Year Without A Santa Claus,” I admit, shyly, trailing off. Benji lips break into a smile.
“You were Snow Miser and I was the Heat guy, right?” He questions. I nod my head.
“Wait, okay. So, I'm Mister Green Christmas, I’m mister sun,” Benji starts singing. I lean into my chair, throw my head back and laugh. I bite my lip, wanting to sing with him, but unsure. Scared even.
“I'm Mister Heat Blister; I'm Mister Hundred and One,” Benji continues and there’s that edge to his voice I can pick up on. I know he’s trying to get me to sing with him.
Still smiling, I close my eyes for a long moment before giving in.
“They call me Heat Miser; what ever I touch; starts to melt in my clutch; I'm too much!”
We continue on with the song, stumbling over the words that we don’t remember. We then proceed to do the songs in reverse order. By the middle of the Snow Miser Song, I’m standing on the table, acting out whatever I can and Benji is and giggling like a goddamn 5 year old girl at me, fighting to catch his breath. I feel really good. Really happy.
“You have to sing more, Joely. ‘Cause I said so,” Benji declares.
Chapter 9:
So I’ve been thinking about what Benji was saying… about singing more. And then I got thinking about the riff he was playing on the guitar and the two things kind of came together in my head, all at once like, ‘BAM’ and I just got it. It hit me like it was my calling and I thought, Why didn’t I think of this before? I might have even said that out loud.
I want to write a song.
I really do. And even if I don’t really know exactly what’s trendy in the music scene, that’s not what matters. Music is music and as long as someone likes it, even if only one person, if that song means something to them, then it’s worth it. Right? Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?
I’ve never actually tried to write anything before, but in my ears, all I can hear is that damn melody… Benji’s strumming pattern literally stuck in my head like, “It’s a small world after all,” except less annoying, more bearable.
I’m just lying down on the couch, my head resting on Benji’s lap as I think my mini-plan through. Benji’s absentmindedly brushing his fingers through my hair, humming one of the songs from Billy and Paul’s bands profile on MySpace. There’s an explanation behind that…
Benji decided that the house needed to be cleaned, and what came as a big disappointment? I still can’t stand the sound of a vacuum cleaner. It just puts noise in my head and immediately started freaking out.
The whole thing was a sore reminder of what my life used to be like and I couldn’t help it. I started crying uncontrollably. Benji, without a second thought, pulled the plug and rushed over to my side, holding me to his body and trying to get me to calm down. I closed my eyes and thought to myself, I’m better now. There aren’t any voices. My head is my own, and as corny as that may sound, it worked. I kept on repeating that mantra and soon even I was sniffling and wiping my eyes.
“You okay? I’m sorry babe, it’s my fault, I totally forgot. God, I’m so stupid sometimes, I really am sorry,” Benji rambled repeating over and over his apology. I broke away from him for a second and sat up, shaking my head.
“It’s fine, not your fault,” I choked out.
It took about 15 minutes for Benji to be convinced that I was fine and another 10 minutes after that for me to convince him it wasn’t his fault and then, after that… about 20 minutes for me to convince him to try to vacuum again while I’ll blast some music and we’ll see what happens.
Needless to say, my plan worked.
We washed the windows, and used that lemon smelling stuff on all the wood. Swept the kitchen floor, did a couple loads of laundry…
“Wutcha’ thinkin’ about?” Benji catches me totally off guard and I have to shake my head and squint up at him.
“Huh?”
“What are you thinking about?” he asks again… curious. Not worried. Dude, now those are weird thoughts. Benji not worried about me? Can you believe it?
“Nothing really,” I shrug because really, I’ve been thinking a lot about lots of things, but I don’t want Benji to know that I want to write a song and what does he really care if I mentally think over the day’s events. I liked what we did today, it made me feel normal.
“Doesn’t look like nothing…”
“Can’t I have my own thoughts?” I question him folding my arms across my chest and looking up at his face, which is sideways to mine.
“I guess,” he grumbles and pouts.
“You guess? You telling me every time a thought crosses my mind, I have to okay it with you?”
At this Benji laughs. “No, I’m just kidding, you know that,” he says. I laugh a little too.
“I know.”
We revert back to silence. I look passed his head, up to the ceiling for a long moment. It’s a comfortable silence and I sink back into it. Benji runs his fingers through my hair again. I unfold my arms and kind of snuggle in to him, letting my eyes close shut.
I’m not even that tired, but I sleep.
Chapter 10:
I’m really starting to grow fond of these lazy days where we mosey around the house and do whatever we feel necessary. Benji’s been playing guitar more and more as each day passes, elaborating and growing as a musician every step of the way. It’s amazing watching him develop his skills. A simple chord progression turns into so much more as he learns new things he can do. I listen to them and take it in. He teaches me simple things. I can play ‘A’ through ‘G’ as open chords and bars. I can strum, (who can’t?) but it’s minor to anything Benji does. I’ve probably said this before, but let me say it again… I admire him. He’s so unique and idea’s just come to him. I sit in the armchair I’ve deemed mine with a pen in my hand and a notebook on my lap doodling for the most part. The words just haven’t come to me yet… I’ve tried to write this song that’s plays non-stop in my head, but every time I try, the words come out the wrong way. Whatever I’m writing just stops being what my original intention was and then it sucks and I crumple up the paper and throw it away.
I just want my writing to mean something… and if it doesn’t mean anything to me, how can it mean something to someone else. That’s why I don’t understand the function of having people write music for you and calling yourself a musician. What’s so special about that? You can sing a song that someone else wrote, so what? Where’s the heart in that? Where’s the talent? It seems to me that it's easier to be a singer because to be a musician, you have to make music, not just perform it. Making music isn’t just reading notes on a piece a paper. Making music is playing an instrument or using your voice and throwing yourself into it. Breaking the boundaries. Creating something unique. Making 'it' your own.
God, I'm getting really into this, but it’s something I believe in. And after being lost for year after year it’s nice to believe. To let my brain wander the horizons of whatever I want it to. Thinking freely is a fucking privilege and so many people take advantage of it.
But I don't and I'm not saying that it makes me any better than anyone else. It's hard to explain. I'm thankful for it... but it'd be nice to be like everyone else. To not have to remember those days...
"Joel?"
I look up from the corner of the room where I've been absently staring at and find Benji leaning on the entry way from the kitchen watching me with a smile in his eyes.
"Yeah?"
He takes that as an invitation to join me, which it pretty much is; I don't care.
"What's up?" I ask him while he joins me on the couch. He rests his feet on the table, and sinks back into the cushions. I feel the couch shift under his weight as I slide slightly closer to him. Oh well... I rest my head on his shoulder while he laces our fingers together. This might sound weird, but I always feel stronger when he holds my hand.
"Paul and Billy quit their band," he says in a sad tone, like he’s sorry for them. Damn, I knew they hated their band mates, but I never really thought they'd quit.
"What happened?" My eyes are back to staring at the corner but I feel safer and better with Benji sitting next to me.
"I dunno, I just got off the phone with Billy. Chuck and Dean I guess picked a fight with the two of them having their own group within the band... Paul and Billy got offended and just quit," he explains with a shrug of his shoulder that makes me lift my head up.
"A group within the band? So what, some people are closer than others, big deal." Benji laughs.
"That's what you'd think. Those guys were jerks anyway."
"Yeah, I suppose, but what are Billy and Paul gonna do?" I wonder out load with concern.
"That's the thing..." Benji starts and by the tone of his voice, I know something is on his mind. I don't know why I didn't pick up on it before.
"What?"
"They invited us to the studio next week."
Silence. My hand goes limp in Benji's hand. "Us, or you. You right? You just won't go anywhere without me, right?" I start rambling out loud losing the fight to keep all of this in my head.
"Um, us," Benji clarifies. I open my mouth to speak but find myself unable to correctly articulate anything that sounds like English.
"Oh."
Silence... till Benji breaks it.
"If you don't wanna go, I totally understand."
Oh god. I can hear it in his voice. How much he wants this. This is like his dream isn't it? Joel, are you that selfish. It's not like you're being asked that much. You’re just gonna go to a studio. And you love Benji and Benji's does so much for you. Hell, he gave up just as much of his life as you had to suffer. You owe it to him.
"No, we'll go. It's just, caught off guard. I was surprised," I make it clear to him. Even if it is a slight lie. It’s one of those good lies. I think…
Benji squeezes my hand and sits up on the couch so he can turn and face me. I take my eyes off the wall and look at him. I can see the smile there still lingering in his eyes and literally feels his happiness raining over me.
"You're amazing, Joel. I wish I could remember to tell you that every day," Benji whispers. He kisses me then, right on the lips, but I break it by smiling at his words, unable to control myself.
"Thanks Benj," I say looking down between us before meeting his eyes again. Benji's hand touches my cheek running his thumb under my eye.
"Thank you, Joel." He says. "Thank you."
Whoa. Okay then. That should getcha all caught up. Please review!!!!