Come, Angels of Unknown

I didn’t know why he slept so little.

It sometimes just popped a joint in my lower spine, the wondering. I hated it, but asking didn’t seem like an option anyway.
He was just too abstract of a thing, his colors sometimes seemed so surreal I’d find myself thinking why on Earth didn't he ever shine like he was supposed to. I was used to figuring things out, observing, connecting- it was my thing, something that made me feel like I was myself, but it still felt like poetic justice to draw his existence in my head like a giant question mark.

I commonly felt like I was out of the ordinary. Probably some inner narcissism of mine- I wouldn’t know- but I considered him as something else entirely. He moved like a wave, he spoke like an ocean; his whole aura made me feel like I was brainwashed by obliviousness. He just had that effect on me, I think. His words made me stop caring and his fingers made me forget too much at all the wrong times.

He looked so peaceful while he slept. I didn’t quite understand what made him want to rest now, but it felt good. I liked knowing my presence could soothe his thoughts enough for him to find a calm.

I heard a knock on the door not too long after. It stung my ears and I was reluctant to move- but I kissed his neck and crawled out of his grip before I could tell myself not to.
My legs felt kind of sore, like my muscles had slept for a long while. My entire existence was floating somewhere between metaphorical hybernation and general madness- I honestly couldn’t pinpoint which level of insanity I would’ve marked myself for. It made me feel restless; not in the good, nervous kind of way, but in a manner I wanted to rip my own head apart from my neck and toss it somewhere else.

I opened the door, and my arms felt just slightly less heavy when I saw who smiled at me from the other end. “Gee.”

“Amber.”

She seemed careful for a few seconds. “Mom unofficially kicked Frank out.”

A stifled laugh I didn’t know I had in me escaped my throat. I guess my sourness stuck even though my solid ground couldn’t- I was a Way, after all. “He practically lives here anyway.”

“She said she’d give this to the church, or charity or something, but I took the opportunity when she was at work to pack it all up and bring it here.” She dropped two large bags in front of my feet, the metal zippers clancking against the tiles and stirring my braincells. “It’s mostly just weird books and goth rock CD-s. Too much Siouxsie, seriously," she grimaced. "Some clothes, too, but he really doesn’t own many of those. I think I found a journal, as well, but it’s just scribbles I don’t understand because the metaphors are too thick to digest. Sounds like shit you might like, though.”

I can’t really describe the feeling that took me over at that point. Maybe I was just scared, but it felt weird to think I still had a part of him to analyze. It didn’t feel unfamiliar, though- the picture of him sitting on his bed at 4 AM and vomiting his mind on paper looked as real to me as anything. I liked it. I liked the idea of his negativity being his fuel because I hadn’t known him for long- and his ways were still a mystery to me sometimes. But the chills running across my fingertips at the thought of him trying to filter all his darkness into something so pure made me want to punch a wall and then kiss him against it. The conflict of the image made me wish to smile, but reality was different at the time and I was convinced my cheeks would disintegrate if I tried to stretch them into something more meaningful than a frown.

“Thanks for that. Coffee? He’s asleep right now. I’d wake him up, but… he hasn’t been sleeping a lot lately. In fact, I don’t think he’s slept at all. Not until a few moments ago.”

She considered it for a moment, I saw it in the way the corners of her eyes crinkled unnaturally- but she nodded. “I guess I have a half an hour to waste. Well, waste isn’t the right word- I always feel so fueled up on unnecessary information after talking to you. Makes me feel clever.”

I breathed a chuckle, low in my gut, but it still felt warmer than what I was used to. “My life would be so unfulfilling without your honesty.”

She rolled her eyes. “And mine would literally suck without you and your goddamn sarcastic face.”

I sighed, long and through a smile that didn’t feel so fake after all anymore.. “Are you sure that you and Frank aren’t blood-related?”

Notes

First of all- happy new year, and since I live in the CET time zone or whatever you call it, it's already well past midnight. And merry [and very late] Christmas to the ones who celebrate it and to the ones who are going to celebrate it [Orthodox Christians, I'm looking at you]. To all the others: whichever holiday you might be celebrating, I hope you've [or will] have a happy one, and if you don't celebrate I just hope you'll have a nice couple of weeks off of school or work or whatever.

Back to the story: there was supposed to be another part to this chapter but I really don't feel like writing right now and it's been too long since I've last updated and I just wanted to post something so you wouldn't think I'm dead. I know it's not really fulfilling- really, my writing hasn't been even close to that for a long time now- but I hope it'll get better. For my sake... and for yours, you're the ones reading it, after all. And please excuse the idiotic chapter title. I wasn't feeling very creative.

See ya soon.

xomls