Come, Angels of Unknown

I wasn’t sure if I was awake or not.

I heard heavy footsteps which echoed throughout the hallway. Something brushed my hand and I almost started screaming when I realized it was Milo, a furry, black ball of fluff. Or a cat, but that was unlikely, because Milo was more of a 'spawn of Satan' type of creature than 'fuzzy little cutiepie'.

I hugged him and kept on listening, hoping that I'd heard the footsteps in my dream. It turned out that I wasn’t that lucky, they continued echoing even when I'd made sure I was awake and I decided that I would go and see what it was. I stood up, grabbing Milo and holding him in my arms. I turned the light in my room on and opened the door, then hurried down the narrow hallway holding him tighter with every step that I almost suffocated the poor cat.

I was pacing, dreading of what I'd find in the kitchen, even though one part of me knew exactly what interrupted my sleep. I didn’t care that much, I usually got hardly any sleep, but this night it had been somewhat different, and I'd already managed to fall asleep for a few hours.
I found the kitchen door opened and I quickly turned on the light. I saw a tall, blond figure leaning against the tap, making me sigh and bring my hand to my face, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Mikey?” I managed to mutter.

He turned around, revealing the familiar face I recognized as my little brother’s, making me immediately notice that he was drunk.

“Another party, I suppose,” I said.

He uttered to say something, but I shut him up, not wanting to hear about his new excuse for getting wasted.

“Let’s just get you to bed.” I pulled him by his sleeve and brought him to his room.

This had become a Friday night routine and it really began to bother me. He was only nineteen and I didn’t think his organism could take the amount of liquor he'd been consuming these days. Since he'd gotten to college, all he'd been doing was attending parties, hanging outside and generally having fun. I had nothing against fun, I just preferred fun without hangovers, missing wallets and that famous ‘What was her name again?’ question.
I shook my head in disapproval while watching him sloppily try to take his pants off and put on his pajamas. When he finally got it, I tucked him in bed. I went to get a towel, a glass of water and a bucket for him.

Routine, as I said.
I placed the things in his room and wished him good night.

I knew my brother wasn’t an alcoholic. He just liked to party.
I knew what an alcoholic was, because that’s exactly what I was his age. That was probably the reason I worried so much about his drinking habits.

Old memories which I blocked immediately appearing inside it as I was picking Milo up from the red kitchen floor tiles. I glanced at the clock. It was 4 am.
He’s early tonight, I thought to myself.

I opened my bedroom door with a silent squeal. The light was still on and it was hurting my eyes a bit. I looked around the bedroom. A calendar placed on the desk revealed the date to be June 19th, considering it was already Saturday morning. I sighed heavily. Two more weeks of work and I had almost a month of vacation. I couldn’t help but to feel a bit relieved, because my job really tired me out even considering the fact it only required standing on my feet for 6 hours a day, 3 on Saturdays. Okay, I had to exchange a few words with a few random strangers and participate in casual conversations with my boss which were a part of that little thing called social protocol; the thing I hated the most in the world. That was a lie too, since I hated everything the most while talking about it.

It wasn’t of much use to go back to bed now because I had to get up for work in a couple of hours anyway.

I grabbed one of my old sketchbooks I used to carry around with me like it was the most important thing in the universe. I shrugged the thoughts of high school off as soon as they started to reach my mind. Nobody would've wanted to remember that, and even though I was a born masochist, I wasn’t fond of remembering it either.

I started drawing and eventually I could see body shapes of various people which I imagined right before I drew them filling the once blank paper.
My favorite was definitely a small black figure of a man, a boy; standing out in the crowd. He didn’t represent anything special, only rebellion maybe; but I still felt something more special towards him than the other characters of the drawing.
I always wondered where my inspiration came from and now was obviously the time to find out, since my mind was kicking and screaming to give me the answer to the question it asked itself.

I looked inside my sub-consciousness, to find a scene that sort of solved the mystery.
There was a huge crowd of people in front of me, or below me as I was standing on a stage. I head loud whistles coming from the crowd, the voices of people all mixing together since there were so many of them, their faces all pointed at me.
I took the microphone and let my voice form a familiar tune which I thought was long forgotten.
I looked at the crowd one more time and realized that the people standing there were the people from my drawing. I smiled at the short boy in all black clothing who was the focus of my drawing, making him smile back as brightly as he could, his shiny teeth almost blinding me of how white they were even in the crappy fluorescent lighting of a rainy afternoon.

When I realized what I was thinking about, I pointed my attention to something else. I put the sketchbook on the top shelf of my bookcase, hoping that it would prevent me from finding it soon again. I grabbed an old comic, just to waste the time I had before I had to get ready for work. Milo came to snuggle with me and I accepted with pleasure, flipping the pages as I read them in a quick pace. I’d just turned the last page when my annoying alarm clock started to bleep, causing me to jump out of startle. I killed the thing and stood up. It was 6am, two hours until I needed to be at work.

I walked down the narrow hallway yawning, hoping that an early morning shower would wake me up, at least a bit. I stripped all my clothing - not that I had much, it was summer after all - and let the hot water flow a bit before I got under the shower.
I always took hot showers, because my muscles were always tensed. It’s not like they were tensed because I worked out a lot - I never even worked out, they were tensed because I was constantly stressed and under pressure. For whatever reason. Really, it wasn't even stress from my life being so hard [note the sarcasm], but from simply letting the routine take charge of it.

I let the water fall over me and squeezed a small amount of shampoo onto my palm. I started rubbing it into my hair gently and felt my headache slowly fading away. I breathed in the hot air, cleaning my lungs and relaxing. I washed my body as well and was out of the shower within 5 minutes.

I looked at the small digital clock on the washing machine, noticing it was 6:15. I still had plenty of time before work. I felt my muscles becoming tense once again when I thought about work, causing me to breathe in the bathroom steamy air and try to relax.

It probably wasn’t even about all the standing or the physical shit because that wasn’t even hard, it was just restacking some shelves and standing behind the counter, but the mental trouble of communicating to other human beings. Or simply the fact my job was a pain in the ass and I was a whiny person.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and looked in the mirror coated with a foggy white patch of steam. I watched myself, evaluating and checking out every part of my visible portrait. I didn’t exactly reach satisfaction and I knew I wasn’t going to if I kept looking, so I just dropped it entirely.
I took the almost white foundation from the shelf which was still a shade darker than my usual skin color, applying it to my face just to make it seem less sickly, one of the rare times I wore it - simply because I'd pulled an all-nighter. Not that I didn't always look like I was on drugs. Because I kind of did.
I remembered how I'd looked when I indeed had been on drugs and cringed at the memory immediately.

I wished I could tell Mikey about those times. I could bet it would’ve been good for him to know why his older brother turned out as such a failure. He did deserve to know, I just didn’t know how to tell him.
I got lost in my thoughts for a few moments more, then I woke up from my daydream to get back to my bedroom. Milo was bugging me again, tangling his paws in my now wet and clean hair, causing me to hiss at him.
That cat was sometimes making me want to cut it, even though I was in desperate need of a haircut [and a dye-job, but I tried to comfort myself with the lie I was letting it recover a bit] anyway. I immediately got shivers from the thought of how I’d look with short hair. I realized that it wasn’t just the thought that gave me shivers and I wrapped the towel tighter around me, searching for clean underwear. I put on my boxers and a random pair of skinny jeans, barely squeezing into the tight material. I finally tugged a T-shirt over my shoulders when I saw it was 6:45.

Time flies when you’re having fun, my head commented and I rolled my eyes to myself.
I always thought I might've been slightly bipolar.

I sighed in relief that I wasn’t cold anymore, walking barefoot down the hallway and reaching the kitchen to make myself some coffee.
I felt like I’d replaced whiskey and cocaine with coffee and cigarettes, which only made me a crankier asshole other than the joyful, stoned drunk I once was. I shrugged when I thought about cigarettes, remembering that I’d almost spent all I had. I had a certain policy about smoking and it again led to the conclusion I was, utterly and undeniably, a complete masochist.

When I finished my coffee, I put on a black hoodie and pulled the hood up. I wasn’t feeling representative today, although I knew that I'd regret wearing a long-sleeved hoodie when it got a bit warmer outside.
I shoved my apartment keys into the hoodie pocket, in case if Mikey left home; which I highly doubted, considering how hung over he should’ve been when he woke up.
And as a bonus, he mentioned that he had an exam this afternoon, so I guessed that I’d probably find him with his head yanked in the book.

I smirked a little, closing the building door.

The walk to work took only about 5 minutes, and I arrived at work a half an hour early. I dug my keys out and unlocked the record store, letting myself in.
I took my hoodie off and hanged it on a rack by the door. I walked around the store slowly when I realized it was too silent. I dragged myself at the back of the store and reached for a few dimes I had in my pocket. I tossed them inside the jukebox and put some loud music on, trying to clear my thoughts. I checked my phone to see I had a note in my calendar for today.

Saturday, June 19th, 11:30 am - the doctor's appointment.

I laughed at myself a bit. I was probably the only one who asked for a doctor's appointment on Saturday mornings, just to escape the crowd.

At 8 sharp I heard the store door opening with a creak. I went to the front of the store to see a young woman with green spiked hair waving at me.

"Morning Katie," I mumbled.

"What's up, Way?" She smirked teasingly.

"A whole lot of stuff, as usual," I said, not even trying to cover up my sarcasm.

"You're really a pessimist one, aren't you?" She shook her head while smiling in disapproval.

"Nah, I'm having a blast in life.” I rolled my eyes. “I'm just being realistic here. Boring job, my love and social life equal zero and I haven't really got a future anymore, have I?" I snapped slightly. I noticed that her eyes grew a bit wider but I didn't care. I didn't say anything wrong, at least I thought I didn’t. Okay, I probably snapped a bit more than I should.

"Well, I think your problem is that you don't let anything good happen to you, because you're so certain that your life is miserable and a failure, that you can't even see what's in front of you," she said firmly, staring into my eyes. Her stare made me feel uncomfortable and I found myself avoiding her eyes.

"Maybe. But you don't really know me, so you're not in the position to judge me," I pointed out the stupid fact which sounded even dumber when I said it in a tone I called my bitchy one. I've been starting to lose my temper slightly.

"I'm not judging you, I'm just trying to help," she coughed out.

"Ugh... I'm sorry I snapped," I said quickly. I didn't want to cause a fight. She was my boss and honestly, I couldn't afford getting fired. And I felt sorry anyway, because I knew she was right - in some dark part of my mind which I immediately forced to shut up and mind its own business degrading slowly like the rest of my body. I hated being proved wrong and I was stubborn as fuck, especially when it came to a subject about me.

"It's okay. I snapped too," she smiled. I felt a bit relieved.

The rest of the morning went slowly and boringly, as I not-exactly-properly greeted the few customers we had, waiting for eleven o'clock so I could finish work, survive that doctor's appointment and get home.
The clock hit 11 sharp when I suddenly came alive and grabbed my hoodie off the rack.

"Bye Katie," I waved at her while leaving the store. I didn't bother putting on the hoodie since outside held the same temperature of what I assumed to be the 9th circle of Hell. I wiped the sweat off my forehead just after a few steps under the heat. The too bright sunlight brutally hit my head and eyes, causing me to groan and hide my face with my hand.

I hate summer.

I managed to drag myself to the hospital. I felt relieved when I entered the slightly cooler space. My hair got all sweaty and messy, and my clothes were soaked wet.

Perfect. Let's make the doc's life disgusting by not just our presence, but by our appearance and… well, body odor or whatever.

I entered the wide hallway with chairs aligned by the walls. I followed the hallway and noticed a single person sitting on one of the chairs, otherwise it was completely empty.
I realized that I had no idea where to go, so I went to find help. When I noticed that the counter was empty and there was no one behind it, I sighed. My only choice was to ask the person sitting in the hallway.
I walked down again, mad at myself for being such a fool. I walked up to a boy dressed in all black clothing. That wouldn't be so weird if the t-shirt he was wearing wasn't long sleeved, and his skinny jeans long. He looked exhausted and drained, as if he hadn't slept well in a long time.

"Uhm, excuse me, can you help me? I'm looking for Dr. Matthews' office, I can't seem to find it anywhere," I muttered, my words echoing though the empty hallway.
The boy turned to face me, a bit lost in his daydream until that moment. He looked at me with an awkward smile and I noticed the dark purple circles underneath his eyes, along with his abnormally pale skin. I thought it must've been makeup, because it looked so unnatural compared to the rest of his skin. Even though the rest also seemed kind of grayish, but it could’ve been the lighting as well.

"This is his office, he's just not here yet." He pointed at the door beside the chair he was sitting on. I noticed that he had his nails painted black. It was the same thing I did a few years ago.

"Oh, thank you. Can I sit here?" I looked at the chair beside him, then back at him to see he was nodding, "Gerard, by the way."

"Frank," he smiled slightly and his bottom lip ring caught a ray of sunshine.

I wasn't the type for casual conversations, and he didn't seem like one either, so we just sat there in awkward silence. I got lost in my thoughts again against my will, and I was woken up by a call of my name.

"Uhm, Gerard? Hello? Gerard?" The boy’s voice seemed to sound worried the third time it called my name. I snapped out of it, confusingly staring around.

"The doctor came," he smirked. I was still a bit streaked because I got really absent-minded, but I came to my senses soon enough.

"Oh. Well, got to go," I said with a small smile.
He smiled back at me. He seemed really young. Though, something was really wrong about him. Something in his eyes just seemed... sad.

I shrugged off the sole thought of wearing myself out about other people, especially the ones I'd just met and I pointed my thoughts towards the thing I was about to do. I knocked on the door and I heard a 'come in' from inside.
I opened the door and I entered the small office. The young doctor was sat by his desk with a pen in his right hand and a smile on his face.
Everybody was smiling today, including me, and it bugged me.

"Hello," I walked inside and sat on the chair he's been motioning me to sit on.

"This is your regular check-up, right, Mr. Way?" He raised an eyebrow.

"That's right," I choked out. Since he was a new doctor, I'd guessed that I'd have to have that conversation with him, and it made my stomach twist.
He started reading my chart.

"You have a real turbulent past with-," his eyes widened when he got to the part I'd guessed to be the most disturbing one.

"How did you manage to get rid of all the drugs?" He muttered, staring at me in shock.

"I sometimes regret that I actually did manage. My life was better that way. And I'm being honest,” I said seriously. His eyes flashed with pity for a second, leaving me a bit disgusted.

"Are you regularly seeing a...?" He muttered. He obviously didn't really know how to handle people like me.

"A therapist? You think I need one?" I laughed. This situation made me want to throw up.

"I most definitely do. This is the worst case of... I've ever... I'm utterly shocked. I mean, three overdoses in a period of six months. That’s severe, Gerard. It must’ve left a lot of emotional trauma, the addiction and the recovery. And as I can see here, the rehab didn’t exactly go as planned. I mean, talking about mental damage. I have to send you to therapy. At least 2 times a week,” he sighed heavily. He was young and this was a real burden to him, to have a patient like me. I didn't really care, it was his job after all.

"I'd agree to it, but my shitty job cannot finance another doctor. Sorry." I raised my eyebrows.

"You don't have to finance it on your own. Health insurance deals with this kind of stuff." He seemed to be distracted for a second, but it disappeared very soon.

"Okay then," I agreed, suppressing an eye roll. I wanted to go home, but I knew from experience that arguing with doctors wasn't a good idea. He checked my throat and my breathing, scrunching his nose in understanding when he didn't find anything to be worried about.

"You may go now," he sighed again. "And I'm really sorry you had to go through all-"

"Don't be. Bye doc," I looked at him once more before I left the room. This gave me a headache. I waved to the boy from earlier while leaving, whose awkward smile followed me out of the hallway.

I stepped outside in the heat and immediately regretted leaving the hospital so soon. Then I found myself thinking about the doctor's sympathetic look and I barely drove off the urge to puke. I grabbed a cigarette out of my jeans pocket and lit it. I sat on the warm stairs of the hospital building, trying to relax.

After a few minutes I heard a loud door slam and a black figure ran outside with a hand over his face. He kept on running down the street and already got to the end of the sidewalk when I managed to turn around and realize it was Frank. I had no idea why, but I felt obliged to make sure he was fine. I couldn’t just leave him like that, not when I didn’t even know what happened to him and if he needed help.

I ran after him as fast as I could, barely catching up.

"Wait up!" I yelled, breathing heavily as I was chasing after him.
He heard me, and he slowed down a little. I walked up to him, breathless and confused. I managed to see that his hand was still over his face, his face wet and covered in tears.
But… his make up, it didn't smudge.

"I'm so sorry." I looked at him with probably the same sympathetic look the doctor gave me. It wasn’t sympathy, though, it was more like empathy.

I felt like I genuinely knew what it was like to be inside his skin, I saw the look he treated me with and I recognized it as the same one I'd used to find in the mirror a few years ago. That scared me a little. I forced myself to put my hand on his shoulder, just to calm him down slightly so he could stop crying. He suddenly grabbed the fabric of my shirt and his face buried itself inside it, leaving me really confused, but unable to move away. I slowly lifted up my arms to his shoulders, just to make him see I didn’t ditch his hug, or whatever that was supposed to be.

Notes

This chapter is really boring it's just bits and shits and I'm really excited about that rhyme there.