Manage me, I'm a mess.
Chances thrown, nothing's free.
WARNING SAD!!! But not as sad as some of the chapters to come, also this was gonna be up like a day, but the internet was down, again. Enjoy!
“Hey,” I turn around in my desk chair, to see Bandit standing in the doorway.
“Hey B,” I smile, standing up, “What’s up?”
“House still smells like shit,” She groans, flopping down on my sofa, “I am seriously gonna murder those twins.”
I laugh softly, standing up from my computer and sitting next to her.
“Well,” I smirk, playing with her silky, brown hair, “You may want to murder Kobra first.”
“Why?” She says, glaring up at me.
“I guess you haven’t been on Twitter lately,” I giggle, moving so she can sit up.
“No, what happened?” She asks, getting rather scared.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her, calming her slightly, “It is just nothing major. Just, look at this.”
I take out my phone, and open up Twitter, clicking on Kobra’s page and handing the phone to her. Bandit’s face goes from worried and scared, to a mixture of humour and anger.
“Brandit,” She laughs after a while, “He has to be kidding.”
“Well, at first I thought Saint started it,” I tell her, “But then realised Kobra posted about Brandit first, but he must have talked to Saint before this.”
“Well,” She smiles at me, lying back down, “He is staying with my parents for a few months, so he would be going to Saint’s school.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, getting concerned.
I have only met the kid once, and that was at Bandit’s 21st, but from what I saw, he is a sweet kid.
“Yeah,” Bandit sighed, “He is just having a tough time at home. He, he hates my side of the family, so like my mum, dad, Mikey, you get the drift. His therapist said it would be best if he spent some time with my dad, I don’t fully know why, but I think there is more to it than just that.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling dread settle in the pits of my stomach.
“I shouldn’t say,” She mutters, but I see the deep pain in her eyes.
“Okay,” I sigh, playing with her hair again, “I won’t ask.”
We sit in silence for a while, until Bandit comes up with an idea.
“Hey,” She says, grabbing her phone, “Kobie should be out of school but now, want to FaceTime him?”
“Sure,” I shrug, letting Bandit sit up to call him.
It rings four times before he picks up.
“HHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYY!” We jump, realising who answered is actually Saint.
“Hey Saint,” Bandit laughs, “Why do you have Kobra’s phone?”
“Because he is a twat,” Kobra responds, and we see him run up behind Saint, snatching back his phone.
“Good job Kobie,” I laugh, causing a simulation of gasps.
About six to seven teenagers pop into view and start yelling.
“BRONX AND BANDIT! BRANDIT! IT’S REAL!” Some black haired kid yells, jumping up and down.
“YOU GETTING SOME BRO?!” Saint asks, causing both Bandit and I to blush heavily.
“Hang on,” Bandit scowls, causing the kids on the other side to shut up, “What is on your face Kobra?”
“Glasses?” He asks, more as if he is asking himself that.
“No,” Bandit growls, “The huge bruise on you cheek. Who did that to you? What happened? Tell me.”
“I-I,” He stutters, paling, “I can’t tell you.”
“Kobra,” She says, in a soft mother’s voice now, “If someone hurt you, I need to know. Have you talked to you dad or Gee about this.”
He puts his head down, and the kids in the back are all huddled around, listening curiously.
“They both know,” He whispers, clearly fighting back anxiety.
“Did they do anything about it?” She asks him.
I can tell Kobra is uncomfortable, but I don’t say anything. I can’t. I am just frozen with shock.
“Uncle Gee did, but,” He hesitates, “D-dad couldn’t.”
“Kobie,” She pushes, but before she can say any more, he explodes.
“HE COULDN’T DO ANYTHING CAUSE HE HIT ME!” He screams, “I have to go.”
And with that he hangs up the phone.
We sit there, tears glistening in Bandit’s eyes.
“I can’t believe it She whimpers, “Mikey, my uncle Mikey, hit is only child.”
“Shh,” I say, pulling her into my arms, “I am sure he had a reason.”
“Well,” Bandit sniffs, “He does have pretty bad mental health so.”
But before she can continue, her phone rings again.
“It’s my dad,” She sighs, standing up, “I gotta take this.”
I nod numbly, and watch as she walks to the kitchen.
I know shouldn’t, but I listen. I listen to the conversation, in hopes to see what is going on.
“Hey dad, everything okay?”
…
“Dad?”
…
“No.”
…
“No it can’t be true.”
…
“Is he going to be okay?”
…
“Oh god no. How are we going to tell Kobra?”
…
“I know. I am sorry.”
…
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
…
“Okay, I promise.”
…
“Yeah, I-.”
…
“Wait, DAD!”
…
“Shit.”
I jump up from my spot on the couch when I hear a phone hit the floor, and her sobbing.
“Bandit?” I ask, sitting next to her on the floor.
She doesn’t respond, she just grabs my shirt, and sobs into my chest. I don’t say anything, I just hug her letting her sob.
“H-h-h,” She tries, but her sobs are too much.
“It’s okay,” I shush her, stroking her back, “You don’t have to talk.”
As soon as I tell her that, her sobs just increase. I can’t do anything, but sit there comforting her.
After about ten minutes of silence, Bandit sits up, hiccupping softly.
“Is everything going to be okay?” I ask, receiving a headshake in response.
I feel my stomach sink.
“Come on,” I whisper, helping her up, “Let’s get you to the sofa. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
I help her up, and take her into the lounge room, placing her on the sofa. Once seated, I leave her to get her a cup of water, before returning. I hand her the glass, to which she takes gratefully, sipping it slowly before sighing.
“I have a feeling that the conversation we had with Kobra will be the last one we will have ever with him,” Bandit whispers, tears glistening in her eyes once more.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice slightly firm, but still soft.
“My dad called,” She sighs before she continues with the story, “Mikey’s health hasn’t been great lately, and he went to the doctor’s today. The reason my dad called was, was because Mikey, he isn’t well. Kobra overheard our conversation, and ran to his room, locking the door, screaming and throwing things. No one could get in, and, oh god Bronx. They heard the window open and, and the silence. We think he j-jumped. H-he killed himself.”
“No,” I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand.
“That’s only one part though,” She continues, “The other part is, well. My dad and Frank smoked a lot during the time of MCR. They smoked in the van, in the bus, backstage, basically everywhere. Mikey was always near them, as he liked to be close to his brother, and well.”
She gulps, and I fear about what she is going to say next.
“The d-doctor s-says it’s t-too late,” She sobs softly.
“B-Bandit,” I stutter, fear gripping at my gut.
“It’s cancer Bronx. Lung cancer.”
“Hey,” I turn around in my desk chair, to see Bandit standing in the doorway.
“Hey B,” I smile, standing up, “What’s up?”
“House still smells like shit,” She groans, flopping down on my sofa, “I am seriously gonna murder those twins.”
I laugh softly, standing up from my computer and sitting next to her.
“Well,” I smirk, playing with her silky, brown hair, “You may want to murder Kobra first.”
“Why?” She says, glaring up at me.
“I guess you haven’t been on Twitter lately,” I giggle, moving so she can sit up.
“No, what happened?” She asks, getting rather scared.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her, calming her slightly, “It is just nothing major. Just, look at this.”
I take out my phone, and open up Twitter, clicking on Kobra’s page and handing the phone to her. Bandit’s face goes from worried and scared, to a mixture of humour and anger.
“Brandit,” She laughs after a while, “He has to be kidding.”
“Well, at first I thought Saint started it,” I tell her, “But then realised Kobra posted about Brandit first, but he must have talked to Saint before this.”
“Well,” She smiles at me, lying back down, “He is staying with my parents for a few months, so he would be going to Saint’s school.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, getting concerned.
I have only met the kid once, and that was at Bandit’s 21st, but from what I saw, he is a sweet kid.
“Yeah,” Bandit sighed, “He is just having a tough time at home. He, he hates my side of the family, so like my mum, dad, Mikey, you get the drift. His therapist said it would be best if he spent some time with my dad, I don’t fully know why, but I think there is more to it than just that.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling dread settle in the pits of my stomach.
“I shouldn’t say,” She mutters, but I see the deep pain in her eyes.
“Okay,” I sigh, playing with her hair again, “I won’t ask.”
We sit in silence for a while, until Bandit comes up with an idea.
“Hey,” She says, grabbing her phone, “Kobie should be out of school but now, want to FaceTime him?”
“Sure,” I shrug, letting Bandit sit up to call him.
It rings four times before he picks up.
“HHHHEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYY!” We jump, realising who answered is actually Saint.
“Hey Saint,” Bandit laughs, “Why do you have Kobra’s phone?”
“Because he is a twat,” Kobra responds, and we see him run up behind Saint, snatching back his phone.
“Good job Kobie,” I laugh, causing a simulation of gasps.
About six to seven teenagers pop into view and start yelling.
“BRONX AND BANDIT! BRANDIT! IT’S REAL!” Some black haired kid yells, jumping up and down.
“YOU GETTING SOME BRO?!” Saint asks, causing both Bandit and I to blush heavily.
“Hang on,” Bandit scowls, causing the kids on the other side to shut up, “What is on your face Kobra?”
“Glasses?” He asks, more as if he is asking himself that.
“No,” Bandit growls, “The huge bruise on you cheek. Who did that to you? What happened? Tell me.”
“I-I,” He stutters, paling, “I can’t tell you.”
“Kobra,” She says, in a soft mother’s voice now, “If someone hurt you, I need to know. Have you talked to you dad or Gee about this.”
He puts his head down, and the kids in the back are all huddled around, listening curiously.
“They both know,” He whispers, clearly fighting back anxiety.
“Did they do anything about it?” She asks him.
I can tell Kobra is uncomfortable, but I don’t say anything. I can’t. I am just frozen with shock.
“Uncle Gee did, but,” He hesitates, “D-dad couldn’t.”
“Kobie,” She pushes, but before she can say any more, he explodes.
“HE COULDN’T DO ANYTHING CAUSE HE HIT ME!” He screams, “I have to go.”
And with that he hangs up the phone.
We sit there, tears glistening in Bandit’s eyes.
“I can’t believe it She whimpers, “Mikey, my uncle Mikey, hit is only child.”
“Shh,” I say, pulling her into my arms, “I am sure he had a reason.”
“Well,” Bandit sniffs, “He does have pretty bad mental health so.”
But before she can continue, her phone rings again.
“It’s my dad,” She sighs, standing up, “I gotta take this.”
I nod numbly, and watch as she walks to the kitchen.
I know shouldn’t, but I listen. I listen to the conversation, in hopes to see what is going on.
“Hey dad, everything okay?”
…
“Dad?”
…
“No.”
…
“No it can’t be true.”
…
“Is he going to be okay?”
…
“Oh god no. How are we going to tell Kobra?”
…
“I know. I am sorry.”
…
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
…
“Okay, I promise.”
…
“Yeah, I-.”
…
“Wait, DAD!”
…
“Shit.”
I jump up from my spot on the couch when I hear a phone hit the floor, and her sobbing.
“Bandit?” I ask, sitting next to her on the floor.
She doesn’t respond, she just grabs my shirt, and sobs into my chest. I don’t say anything, I just hug her letting her sob.
“H-h-h,” She tries, but her sobs are too much.
“It’s okay,” I shush her, stroking her back, “You don’t have to talk.”
As soon as I tell her that, her sobs just increase. I can’t do anything, but sit there comforting her.
After about ten minutes of silence, Bandit sits up, hiccupping softly.
“Is everything going to be okay?” I ask, receiving a headshake in response.
I feel my stomach sink.
“Come on,” I whisper, helping her up, “Let’s get you to the sofa. I’ll get you a glass of water.”
I help her up, and take her into the lounge room, placing her on the sofa. Once seated, I leave her to get her a cup of water, before returning. I hand her the glass, to which she takes gratefully, sipping it slowly before sighing.
“I have a feeling that the conversation we had with Kobra will be the last one we will have ever with him,” Bandit whispers, tears glistening in her eyes once more.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice slightly firm, but still soft.
“My dad called,” She sighs before she continues with the story, “Mikey’s health hasn’t been great lately, and he went to the doctor’s today. The reason my dad called was, was because Mikey, he isn’t well. Kobra overheard our conversation, and ran to his room, locking the door, screaming and throwing things. No one could get in, and, oh god Bronx. They heard the window open and, and the silence. We think he j-jumped. H-he killed himself.”
“No,” I whisper, covering my mouth with my hand.
“That’s only one part though,” She continues, “The other part is, well. My dad and Frank smoked a lot during the time of MCR. They smoked in the van, in the bus, backstage, basically everywhere. Mikey was always near them, as he liked to be close to his brother, and well.”
She gulps, and I fear about what she is going to say next.
“The d-doctor s-says it’s t-too late,” She sobs softly.
“B-Bandit,” I stutter, fear gripping at my gut.
“It’s cancer Bronx. Lung cancer.”
Ooh this is interesting! Update soon please!
(And about the BFF video, I'm pretty sure it's Miles. I don't know anything for sure but it would make sense if it was.)
10/16/16