Paint My Skies Black, I Never Wanna See The Sun Again

Alex slammed down his drink and demanded another one.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, son,” the older man behind the counter warned, “That’s your ninth one.”

With circles under his eyes and desperation on his face, Alex raised his chin to make eye contact with him, “Does it look like I’m counting?” he slid another bill across the counter, “Just pour me another.”

Unhappy with the order, the man did as he was told and poured the drunk man his drink. Knocking it back, Alex heaved a sigh as his memory blurred a little bit more at the edges. At this point, thing were still too fresh in his mind.

“Another,” he slurred.

“No. That’s it.”

“Give me another.”

“Goodnight. I am cutting you off.”

“Fine,” Alex spat, “I was leaving soon anyways.”

He glanced quickly at the clock and saw that it was just past two in the morning and it had been days since he’d been home – none of which he was sober for. He’d been out of touch with the world; ignoring any and all calls that he received. He hadn’t even been home since the first night back. He woke up from trying to sleep and found himself at a new bar each night after being cut off just as he had just been.

Alex stepped out into the cold night air and shivered in his worn-out hoodie. As a bitter wind blew by him, he persevered on, trying to stop his thoughts; trying to halt his feelings.

All to no avail.

He let his mind sift through the tragic events and let his feet do the walking. They seemed to have a better sense of direction than he did at the moment. When it felt as though he’s walked far enough, Alex stopped to take in his surroundings. The pain was too unbearable for him. He fell to his knees as he was overcome with emotion.

Remembering Sunday, he thought about he thought about the time they had breakfast together – even when he made those pancakes that ended up failing.

Suddenly, a new sound filled his ears before he felt it.
Rain.

Well, isn’t this pathetic fallacy if I ever saw it. He thought grimly to himself. He disregarded it as he looked up at the estate in front of him.

It seemed much too familiar to him. The wounds in which he possessed felt like they were being ripped open unmercifully and doused in salt.

It was his house – THEIR house. Alex couldn’t fathom how he had ended up walking all that way.

He flinched violently as another memory shook him.

Sunday pulled on his hand with a devilish grin. She led him upstairs, teasing, but closed the door before he could enter, leaving him dying to get in.

And another.

They were on her porch, fighting again, hinting to each other for the three words that they refused to say. For months, “I love you” had been the bane of their existences. She made it seem like she didn’t even believe in it, but he was determined to call her bluff and make her cave first. He knew he loved her. There was no denying the butterflies that filled his gut, even with the simple thought of her.

Tired as he was, his feet kept on walking. Right up to the house next door. Not even fully aware of his actions, he knocked irritably.

It swung open to reveal a tired-looking, but very alert elderly man wielding a beaten frying pan, and his wife cowering slightly behind him.

Desperate, he pleaded, “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a bother, but I’m looking for someone.”

The man’s eyes softened, as did his stance, and he lowered his weapon as he came to recognize the boy next door. His wife even took a step closer.

“Have you seen a girl about yea tall; answers to the name, Sunday? I mean, we live right next door.”

“We know who you mean,” the man answered in a understanding tone.

“Really?” he asked with hope in his voice, “Well, do you know where she went? Where I can find her?”

“She’s been gone, son. Packed up and left some days ago.”

As if on cue, thunder erupted above them.

“Why don’t you come in? You must be freezing in the cold and wet,” the woman said.

Alex merely shook his head causing a cascade of raindrops to fly from the ends of his hair, “She can’t – she can’t have left,” he chanted helplessly under his breath.

“You don’t understand ma’am,” he tried explaining, “I loved that girl. She was the girl of my dreams, and I didn’t even know it until she came along.” With a haunting look in his eye, he stared through them, “I was gonna marry her, you know. Not really soon, but someday. Someday.”

“It’s not too late,” the old man said picking him up off his knees, “there’s still time. Go; look for her.”

“Hope,” he spat quietly, “Why’d she even leave?”

“Don’t despair. She’ll come back. You’ll see.”

“Thanks for your help. I’m sorry to have waken you.”

The elderly couple couldn’t do anything but watch as the broken-hearted boy walked away; past his own house, to the end of the street, until they could see him no longer. Oh, how they wished he would find her.

...

Alex had never really been able to write a decent song while he was drunk, so this was a first.

He had stumbled into Rian’s house, conveniently remembering that he kept a spare key hidden in the potted plant on his porch. Surprisingly inspired, he ripped a piece of paper off the pad next to the phone, grabbed a pen, and furiously began scribbling words, feelings, and baring his soul on paper.

He didn’t write for the sake of a song. It was therapeutic to him. Some people painted, others drowned their world in noise; Alex wrote.

Out of the mess of words he had written, he scratched deep enough below the surface to find the song. It was the song.

...

“Alex, you have to get up off your ass and do something!” Jack exclaimed, “I don’t care what it is you do, just anything!”

Alex was lying on Jack’s couch, under a blanket. It was five in the afternoon and he hadn’t even come out for air yet. Jack couldn’t bear to see his best friend in this state. He had tried everything, and if this was the way to do it, then he had to try.

Tough love: It was tough alright.

Jack sat at the end of the couch and reached over to pry the blanket off of him.

“Alex really?” Jack shielded his eyes. “You’ve been sleeping on my couch, under my sheets, and you’re not wearing any pants. Go put something on.”

Instead of complying, Alex merely ducked back under the covers, “Go’way,” he mumbled from under the depths of his self-imposed hole.

“Alex...” Jack said with a serious tone in his voice that was rare.

“Jack; please.” Alex’s voice cracked on the last word, and not knowing what else to do, Jack retreated from his balled up figure, letting him be.

He stepped out of the house for some privacy and dialed Sunday’s number for what seemed like the umpteenth time in the past few days. His phone bill was killing him, but it didn’t matter at this point.

Inside, Alex heard the door quietly shut and peered out from under his blankets long enough to see Jack standing outside the big bay window with his phone to his ear.

He sighed helplessly. He knew who he was calling, and knew exactly who wouldn’t be answering.

Somewhere across the country, Sunday’s cellphone rang. She checked the name and her heart fell.

Jack.

He had been calling many times but she just couldn’t deal with the amount of guilt weighing her down. She pressed ‘Reject’ and left it on the counter, getting up in order to take a walk and clear her head. She knew it was pathetic, what she did. But she couldn’t figure out a way to undo it.

Jack hung up in disappointment, but it wasn’t like he expected anything different. He hated what Sunday was doing to Alex, and he wished that he could hate her for it, but something inside him said that there was a reason for her abrupt departure.

He made his way back into the house and was just about to walk back up the stairs to his room when he saw a piece of paper angrily balled up and tossed into the corner. Curious, he plucked it off the floor and went to read it alone.

...

Jack smoothed out the rough edges and cracks of the paper and recognized Alex’s frantic handwriting. It read:

He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes
Started making his way past 2 in the morning
He hasn't been sober for days

Leaning now into the breeze
Remembering Sunday, he falls to his knees
They had breakfast together
But two eggs don't last
Like the feeling of what he needs

Now this place seems familiar to him
She pulled on his hand with a devilish grin
She led him upstairs, she led him upstairs
Left him dying to get in

Forgive me, I'm trying to find
My calling, I'm calling at night
I don't mean to be a bother,
But have you seen this girl?
She's been running through my dreams
And it's driving me crazy, it seems
I'm going to ask her to marry me

Even though she doesn't believe in love,
He's determined to call her bluff
Who could deny these butterflies?
They're filling his gut

Waking the neighbours, unfamiliar faces
He pleads though he tries
But he's only denied
Now he's dying to get inside

Forgive me, I'm trying to find
My calling, I'm calling at night
I don't mean to be a bother,
But have you seen this girl?
She's been running through my dreams
And it's driving me crazy, it seems
I'm going to ask her to marry me

The neighbours said she moved away
Funny how it rained all day
I didn't think much of it then
But it's starting to all make sense
Oh, I can see now that all of these clouds
Are following me in my desperate endeavour
To find my whoever, wherever she may be

I'm not coming back
I've done something so terrible
I'm terrified to speak
But you'd expect that from me
I'm mixed up, I'll be blunt, now the rain is just
Washing you out of my hair and out of my mind
Keeping an eye on the world,
From so many thousands of feet off the ground, I'm over you now
I'm at home in the clouds, and towering over your head

Well I guess I'll go home now...

Jack sighed and folded the paper neatly into fours, and left it on his dresser. He had a feeling something good might come out of that song.