Teenagers
The Storm
Cold drops splash down outside the window, forming massive puddles that flood the streets which have now gone empty. I’m awoken by loud whooshes of wind and trees swaying violently from side to side. The sky is a dark shade of grey. It’s almost the darkest I’ve ever seen it besides for nighttime. It’s really coming down now, the rain I mean. A bright light flashes across the sunless sky and a deep rumble shakes the whole house. Windows sound as if they’re about to shatter completely.
Sometimes when I get really depressed I go into a trance where I kind of disappear for a while. I mean my mind disappears, my consciousness. My eyes might be open, but I’m not seeing what’s going on right in front of me, I’m not hearing any of it. Everything kind of turns into codes that I can’t quite decipher. Nothing makes sense anymore. Other times I just faint. I fall asleep for a while. No one has managed to wake me up when I’m like this. I just have to do it on my own.
It takes some time for my brain to start up again but I quickly notice that I’m not at mom and dad’s house. I’m home. It almost feels as if nothing has changed. But I know better. Everything has.
It’s so vacant. The living room is dimly lit by the few candles placed on the empty floor surrounding me. I’m hurdled up against the wall next to the biggest window, a jacket placed on top of me.
My heart skips a beat as I hear the front door slam shut, just like it used to when I was the first one home. Could it be him? Soft footsteps echo through the emptiness and I savor every clicking of souls to the hard wood floors, closing my eyes and imagining what I’d do if it was Gee. What I’d say. It’s not him though.
Frank enters from the hallway, dripping wet, jacket-less, one cup of hot coffee in each hand. His expression is more than apologetic.
“You’re up…” He pauses. “I found some candles and matches in the kitchen cupboard, so I just grabbed them. After I’d lit them I figured you’d be out for a while so I walked to the nearest Starbucks.” He shifts his weight, clearly unease of the situation. “I’m so sorry. I sat outside for as long as I could. First it started to drizzle, and that was fine, but then it just started raining more and more, and I needed to get you inside so you didn’t get sick and…” He brushes strands of black hair away from his face and reveals his bloodshot eyes. He’s been crying.
“It’s fine, Frank.” I try to mask the sadness in my voice.
“I carried you in. It was stupid, but I had to. Just don’t shut down again, please. I was really worried.” He starts to shake as he runs over and collapses next to me. “Fuck.” He’s trembling now. “Gee told me your meltdowns were bad but Jesus, Mikey!” Tears stream down his pale cheeks as he hands me one of the coffees. “I was so scared. I thought you were dead for god’s sake!” His body quivers beneath my touch as I pull him close and run my fingers through his drenched hair. He’s ice cold.
“It’s okay.” I whisper. “I’m okay.” And to my big surprise: I am okay. I don’t need to be reassured or comforted. This is a different kind of sadness. It’s not as hopeless. It’s an emptiness still, a painful hollowness for sure, but there is hope. I know that as long as I have Frank I’ll be okay.
His shaking seems to calm down after I’ve said these words. Since they are coming from me he seems to believe them. I do too.
We sit in silence for several minutes, but suddenly I remember the tune I was hearing before I had an “episode”. Where was it coming from? Could it have been Frank?
“Was that you humming before… well..eeh…before I disappeared?” I wonder, flabbergasted by the fact that he knew the song. I always though granny had made it up.
“Yeah… Gerard used to hum that song to me when I was down.” That explains it.
“My granny used to hum it to us when we were younger and couldn’t sleep, or when I’d had night terrors. I think she made it. She at least used to play it to us on the piano as well…” I inform him.
“He hummed it to me when I was going through withdrawal and when my brain tricked me into thinking that I wanted to die and when all I needed was to sleep. He’d hum it to me, and I’d sleep. Just sleep. For hours. It calmed me down then and it still does. It’s beautiful.” he sighs.
He’s right. It’s one of those tunes that you listen too, and it gives you goose bumps and makes you feel like you’re the happiest person on the planet, but also it breaks and twists your heart. It makes you depressed and you think you’ll never be happy again. And it makes you want to cry because of all the emotions you’re feeling at once.
The room falls silent once again. But it’s a safe, warm silence. A silence filled with shared longing for shared friends. We hold onto each other, the only ones we have left. The room is so peaceful, so quiet and so forgiving.
It’s starting to get even darker out, nighttime-dark that is, but it hasn’t started clearing up just yet. And I thought that it couldn’t get any darker than it already was, well, guess again. It’s basically pitch-black out now, and you can’t see anything but the occasional lightning flash, bringing the sky back to life. The streetlights are out as well.
“You’re not going home tonight.” Frankie orders, not caring to lift his head from my chest to look at me, having my complete cooperation.
“k.” My answer is quick and simple and it makes Frank laugh.
“k. We have that settled then.” he says.
“Let’s see how long it takes for mom and dad to notice that I’m missing.” I add, trying to bring some comedy but Frank does not laugh.
“I wish I could steal you.” He frowns. “You deserve a loving home. People who ask you where you’re going when you’re headed out and wonder when you’ll be back. You deserve people who care.” his sniffles break my heart.
I’m speechless.
I can’t argue with his statement. I do deserve parents who care, everyone does. But that’s just not the cards I’ve been handed, and now that I have Frank, I can deal with that. I have to deal with that.
“S-steal me then.” I stutter.
He laughs. “If only it was that easy.”
In my mind it is that easy. Can’t he just take me? No one will care. We can run away together. Running isn’t always a bad thing.
“Let’s run…” I think aloud.
“I’d love too, but we can’t. I could be charged for stealing you, you know that? I’m eighteen, remember.”
He sits up to look at me. The position we’re in is, quite frankly, awkward. We’re sitting right next to each other, leaning against the same wall, gazing into each other’s eyes, practically breathing the same air.
“They’d never find us. We could disappear.” I’m pleading now.
“Sorry, but I’ll tell you what we can do….” he half smiles. “We can stay here tonight… We can stay here and if you’re parents still haven’t noticed that you’re missing tomorrow, you can stay with me for a while. Just ‘till they notice. They deserve that, and you deserve to get away.”
I hug him. He knows I’d rather run. He knows I’d rather sprint the hell out of this shitty town and never look back, but like he said: my parents could charge him with kidnapping. So I’d rather be tortured here for another two years than have him locked up.
“Do you think I’ll ever get out?” I wonder.
“Of course, Mikey. The second you turn 18 we’ll run. I promise.” There’s another one of our long comfortable pause. Just breathing and taking each other in, really. “I really like you, Mikes.” He leans back in, resting his head on my chest.
We lay against the wall in peace, listening to the sounds of the storm as we grow tired. Frank is the first one to close his struggling eyes. His breathing slows and deepens, and I assume he’s fallen asleep.
God, am I lucky to have him! I would probably have offed myself by now if I hadn’t met him. Depression is a deadly disease, clawing at you and breaking you down, until you just hate yourself more than anything. It makes you think that you deserve to die, that it would be better if you were gone, but the truth is: it’s not better for anyone. You just disappear. Everything you’ve fought for is just gone, and there’s no way back. When you’re alive there’s the chance that things will get better. You have the chance to make them better. Once you’re dead there’s just nothing.
I close my eyes and let my brain wander, because I’m to awake to fall asleep.
It wanders to the nights Gerard and I spent here. The evenings we’d come home from school, completely exhausted, and Gerard would maturely make dinner as I just sat in the kitchen, watching. He never complained.
On my good days we’d blast music and air-guitar along to our favorite mixed CD as we jumped around on the furniture. We’d tip chairs and scrape our knees from miserably failing to slide on the laminated floors. Gerard has even ripped his slim-fits on several occasions. I’d just laugh at him.
On the other days we’d just talk. He’d tell me not to listen to what Jonny and the other airheads at school would say about me. He would tell me to keep my head high. He reminded me that things would “get better” on a daily basis, but I never once believed him. These evenings I’d go to bed early. Around 8 usually. I’d cry myself to sleep, and feel nothing but the void in my chest. Later on I’d wake up due to night terrors. Gee would let me sleep in his bed. He’d hold me and talk to me until I fell asleep, and he often wouldn’t wake me the next morning. He used to say that it was more important for me to rest and have time to heal than it was to attend school every day. He understood that pushing me to go would only make it worse.
Eventually I’m drawn back to the real world by Frank who shifts his position and clutches onto my shirt. I find myself half smiling and more at peace with the fact that I can’t go back in time than I ever have been.
I rest my head on top of Frank’s, who’s is now on my shoulder.
“I’m very fond of you Mr. Iero.” I whisper. He half smiles in his sleep.
I close my eyes and let my brain wander to whatever it wants, unafraid of getting depressed, because I know that I won’t be upset as long as I wake up next to Frank.
Sometimes when I get really depressed I go into a trance where I kind of disappear for a while. I mean my mind disappears, my consciousness. My eyes might be open, but I’m not seeing what’s going on right in front of me, I’m not hearing any of it. Everything kind of turns into codes that I can’t quite decipher. Nothing makes sense anymore. Other times I just faint. I fall asleep for a while. No one has managed to wake me up when I’m like this. I just have to do it on my own.
It takes some time for my brain to start up again but I quickly notice that I’m not at mom and dad’s house. I’m home. It almost feels as if nothing has changed. But I know better. Everything has.
It’s so vacant. The living room is dimly lit by the few candles placed on the empty floor surrounding me. I’m hurdled up against the wall next to the biggest window, a jacket placed on top of me.
My heart skips a beat as I hear the front door slam shut, just like it used to when I was the first one home. Could it be him? Soft footsteps echo through the emptiness and I savor every clicking of souls to the hard wood floors, closing my eyes and imagining what I’d do if it was Gee. What I’d say. It’s not him though.
Frank enters from the hallway, dripping wet, jacket-less, one cup of hot coffee in each hand. His expression is more than apologetic.
“You’re up…” He pauses. “I found some candles and matches in the kitchen cupboard, so I just grabbed them. After I’d lit them I figured you’d be out for a while so I walked to the nearest Starbucks.” He shifts his weight, clearly unease of the situation. “I’m so sorry. I sat outside for as long as I could. First it started to drizzle, and that was fine, but then it just started raining more and more, and I needed to get you inside so you didn’t get sick and…” He brushes strands of black hair away from his face and reveals his bloodshot eyes. He’s been crying.
“It’s fine, Frank.” I try to mask the sadness in my voice.
“I carried you in. It was stupid, but I had to. Just don’t shut down again, please. I was really worried.” He starts to shake as he runs over and collapses next to me. “Fuck.” He’s trembling now. “Gee told me your meltdowns were bad but Jesus, Mikey!” Tears stream down his pale cheeks as he hands me one of the coffees. “I was so scared. I thought you were dead for god’s sake!” His body quivers beneath my touch as I pull him close and run my fingers through his drenched hair. He’s ice cold.
“It’s okay.” I whisper. “I’m okay.” And to my big surprise: I am okay. I don’t need to be reassured or comforted. This is a different kind of sadness. It’s not as hopeless. It’s an emptiness still, a painful hollowness for sure, but there is hope. I know that as long as I have Frank I’ll be okay.
His shaking seems to calm down after I’ve said these words. Since they are coming from me he seems to believe them. I do too.
We sit in silence for several minutes, but suddenly I remember the tune I was hearing before I had an “episode”. Where was it coming from? Could it have been Frank?
“Was that you humming before… well..eeh…before I disappeared?” I wonder, flabbergasted by the fact that he knew the song. I always though granny had made it up.
“Yeah… Gerard used to hum that song to me when I was down.” That explains it.
“My granny used to hum it to us when we were younger and couldn’t sleep, or when I’d had night terrors. I think she made it. She at least used to play it to us on the piano as well…” I inform him.
“He hummed it to me when I was going through withdrawal and when my brain tricked me into thinking that I wanted to die and when all I needed was to sleep. He’d hum it to me, and I’d sleep. Just sleep. For hours. It calmed me down then and it still does. It’s beautiful.” he sighs.
He’s right. It’s one of those tunes that you listen too, and it gives you goose bumps and makes you feel like you’re the happiest person on the planet, but also it breaks and twists your heart. It makes you depressed and you think you’ll never be happy again. And it makes you want to cry because of all the emotions you’re feeling at once.
The room falls silent once again. But it’s a safe, warm silence. A silence filled with shared longing for shared friends. We hold onto each other, the only ones we have left. The room is so peaceful, so quiet and so forgiving.
It’s starting to get even darker out, nighttime-dark that is, but it hasn’t started clearing up just yet. And I thought that it couldn’t get any darker than it already was, well, guess again. It’s basically pitch-black out now, and you can’t see anything but the occasional lightning flash, bringing the sky back to life. The streetlights are out as well.
“You’re not going home tonight.” Frankie orders, not caring to lift his head from my chest to look at me, having my complete cooperation.
“k.” My answer is quick and simple and it makes Frank laugh.
“k. We have that settled then.” he says.
“Let’s see how long it takes for mom and dad to notice that I’m missing.” I add, trying to bring some comedy but Frank does not laugh.
“I wish I could steal you.” He frowns. “You deserve a loving home. People who ask you where you’re going when you’re headed out and wonder when you’ll be back. You deserve people who care.” his sniffles break my heart.
I’m speechless.
I can’t argue with his statement. I do deserve parents who care, everyone does. But that’s just not the cards I’ve been handed, and now that I have Frank, I can deal with that. I have to deal with that.
“S-steal me then.” I stutter.
He laughs. “If only it was that easy.”
In my mind it is that easy. Can’t he just take me? No one will care. We can run away together. Running isn’t always a bad thing.
“Let’s run…” I think aloud.
“I’d love too, but we can’t. I could be charged for stealing you, you know that? I’m eighteen, remember.”
He sits up to look at me. The position we’re in is, quite frankly, awkward. We’re sitting right next to each other, leaning against the same wall, gazing into each other’s eyes, practically breathing the same air.
“They’d never find us. We could disappear.” I’m pleading now.
“Sorry, but I’ll tell you what we can do….” he half smiles. “We can stay here tonight… We can stay here and if you’re parents still haven’t noticed that you’re missing tomorrow, you can stay with me for a while. Just ‘till they notice. They deserve that, and you deserve to get away.”
I hug him. He knows I’d rather run. He knows I’d rather sprint the hell out of this shitty town and never look back, but like he said: my parents could charge him with kidnapping. So I’d rather be tortured here for another two years than have him locked up.
“Do you think I’ll ever get out?” I wonder.
“Of course, Mikey. The second you turn 18 we’ll run. I promise.” There’s another one of our long comfortable pause. Just breathing and taking each other in, really. “I really like you, Mikes.” He leans back in, resting his head on my chest.
We lay against the wall in peace, listening to the sounds of the storm as we grow tired. Frank is the first one to close his struggling eyes. His breathing slows and deepens, and I assume he’s fallen asleep.
God, am I lucky to have him! I would probably have offed myself by now if I hadn’t met him. Depression is a deadly disease, clawing at you and breaking you down, until you just hate yourself more than anything. It makes you think that you deserve to die, that it would be better if you were gone, but the truth is: it’s not better for anyone. You just disappear. Everything you’ve fought for is just gone, and there’s no way back. When you’re alive there’s the chance that things will get better. You have the chance to make them better. Once you’re dead there’s just nothing.
I close my eyes and let my brain wander, because I’m to awake to fall asleep.
It wanders to the nights Gerard and I spent here. The evenings we’d come home from school, completely exhausted, and Gerard would maturely make dinner as I just sat in the kitchen, watching. He never complained.
On my good days we’d blast music and air-guitar along to our favorite mixed CD as we jumped around on the furniture. We’d tip chairs and scrape our knees from miserably failing to slide on the laminated floors. Gerard has even ripped his slim-fits on several occasions. I’d just laugh at him.
On the other days we’d just talk. He’d tell me not to listen to what Jonny and the other airheads at school would say about me. He would tell me to keep my head high. He reminded me that things would “get better” on a daily basis, but I never once believed him. These evenings I’d go to bed early. Around 8 usually. I’d cry myself to sleep, and feel nothing but the void in my chest. Later on I’d wake up due to night terrors. Gee would let me sleep in his bed. He’d hold me and talk to me until I fell asleep, and he often wouldn’t wake me the next morning. He used to say that it was more important for me to rest and have time to heal than it was to attend school every day. He understood that pushing me to go would only make it worse.
Eventually I’m drawn back to the real world by Frank who shifts his position and clutches onto my shirt. I find myself half smiling and more at peace with the fact that I can’t go back in time than I ever have been.
I rest my head on top of Frank’s, who’s is now on my shoulder.
“I’m very fond of you Mr. Iero.” I whisper. He half smiles in his sleep.
I close my eyes and let my brain wander to whatever it wants, unafraid of getting depressed, because I know that I won’t be upset as long as I wake up next to Frank.
11/2/13