Troubles

I wake up by the sun shining in my face. There's a blanket over me. I must've fallen asleep while Brian was in the shower last night, because he usually makes up a make-shift bed on the couch while I shower.

I sit up and rub my face. I can feel a sneeze in my nose, but it won't get out.

I yawn as I get up and walk towards the kitchen. Everything is still dark, but the odd thing is that I don't smell coffee or hear Brian shuffle around or anything.

When I turn the corner to the kitchen, the lights are out and Brian is nowhere to be seen. I frown briefly, until I look up and see the clock on the wall.

20 past 5.
What?
A.M.?
Wow.

I don't even feel that tired, but that's probably because I fell asleep insanely early last night. It couldn't have been more than 8, maybe 8.30. Brian probably didn't mind because I've noticed he has a TV in his bedroom.

I turn around, having decided to go back to bed, and see the phone. I keep walking towards my “bed”, but the thought of going to bed slowly disappears.

I promised to call Mikey, and I didn't. Gerard's still mad at me and Mikey's still upset. I can't really call Mikey because of the time, and even if I could, I wouldn't wanna take advantage of Brian's hospitality. He's pretty much made it indirectly clear that I can use the phone anytime I want, but I would still like to ask him; just to be safe and polite.

I sit down on the couch – that is no longer my “bed” in my mind – and stare at the coffee table.

I guess I could do my homework.

I get up and grab my backpack from the hallway. I pull out the notebook Mikey gave me and an old pencil. I have an English paper for Thursday... Tomorrow. Damn, waking up so early screws up my sense of what day it is. Also, not having visited the soup kitchen for 5 days makes me lose track of time, a bit. School and the soup kitchen helps me remember what day it is. Usually, the soup kitchen helps me the most. They have a food plan that they always follow. I know what they serve each day, which helps me keep track of when I need to get my homework done. Wednesdays are actually the best. Mashed potatoes and boiled vegetables. They also serve sloppy joes with that, but I just stick with the non-meat foods. It's the one day a week where I don't go to bed hungry.

That's probably also the reason why I can't figure out what day it is lately: I don't go to bed hungry anymore. That's probably why this paper has been stressing me out so much. And now, when I finally have plenty of time to do it, I can't focus.

I look down at the notebook and notice the doodles I've made on the cover. I smirk at one of them, then frown and open the notepad up to a blank page. I know exactly what to write, since I've thought about it almost constantly for the past week.

Mikey told me I could just keep the notebook; that he had others. It's completely fresh. It probably didn't cost a lot for him – maybe his parents even bought it for him – but to me, it's the nicest thing I've had for almost 7 months. Gerard could be the nicest thing I've ever had in my life.

I pick at the corner of a blank page, and though I have the entire paper lined up perfectly in my head, ready to get out, I just can't focus. My brain keeps going back to thoughts of Gerard and the way he looked when he walked away after I'd told him I wasn't the kind to fall in love.
I guess he thought I wouldn't wanna fall in love with him, but that's not the case. I just don't fall in love. Because falling in love is dangerous. It can hurt you and...

I roll my eyes at myself. I might as well admit it:

I put the pencil to the paper and write one sentence:

'I'm afraid.'

I'm afraid of getting hurt and getting left behind. I'm afraid on being alone, and yet, I'm afraid of trusting anyone. Because if I trust anyone, they can more easily hurt me.

But I trust Mikey, don't I? I mean, he's my best friend. I know he wouldn't hurt me, so why am I so afraid of his brother hurting me?

'Why? Why can't I trust...you?'

This reminds me of something a teacher of mine kept repeating for an entire year: brainstorm! Every time we had problems answering a question or found an assignment difficult, she would just tell us to brainstorm, as if it was the magic way to every result. Back then, it just seemed like a waste of paper – especially because of the tight economy at home – but now, it seems like the right thing to do.

I get a good grip of my pencil and start writing a brainstormed, hypothetical letter to Gerard. That way, he'll understand how confused I am; how nothing makes sense in my brain and from my point of view.

'I don't know why I can't trust you. I trust Mikey, but I guess that's different. I mean, we're best friends, me and Mikey, and you've always just been Mikey's older brother who was always kind of weird and quiet, but in an interesting way. I've never been able to figure you out, which might be the reason why I have such a hard time trusting you.

But I want to trust you. You're my friend now, maybe even at the same level as Mikey. You've been there for me so much lately, and the fact that I hurt you so much the other day just kills me. I never meant for you to get hurt. I just told you the truth. I'm not the kind of person who just falls in love. I guess it all comes from the fact that I can't trust people, but I just don't know how to change that. I don't know how to just start trusting you.

It's not like you need to prove yourself to me, though. It's all me. I need to find a way to trust you and just forget about all the bad things that have happened. None of that has been your fault. It's no one's fault, really. Well, maybe I could blame my dad for leaving or my mom for being

I don't blame anyone for where I am right now. And I especially don't blame you. You've been nothing but good to me. You've lent me money, even when you didn't know what I used them for. And the thing I said about your charity work: I didn't mean it. I admire your work. The way you want to help everyone and how you think everyone should have a chance. I was just angry that day. It was a bad day. You might wonder how I can ever have good days, but I do sometimes. Like the day where I came home with you and had dinner with your family. It was such a long time since I'd felt that safe, and even though I'm a vegetarian as much as I can be and we had pork chop, I still thought it was one of the best days I'd had in so long.

I admire you, Gerard. I don't know why I can't trust you or fall in love with you, but I admire you. I'm proud to just know you and be able to talk with you every day. And the fact that we haven't talked for two days just kills me. I love talking with you. The way you're so passionate about certain things just makes me so proud to know you. I can just tell you'll become something great one day, and then I'll be able to look at you and just know that you've deserved it.

You deserve everything you've ever

I just don't know why I can't fall in love with you. I've never been tempted to fall in love before, so I just don't know how to do it. I don't know how to just open my heart and feel. It should be so simple, shouldn't it? That's what you always hear from people and it's what you see in the movies. But I just can't do that. It's like there's this big wall that I just can't get over. Or maybe it's you who can't get over it. I don't know.

I don't know a whole lot.

I don't know if I'm in love with you. I don't know if I'll ever dare falling for you. I don't know if I can ever trust you.

I know that you're my friend. I know that I appreciate the fact that you've been there for me as much as you have – more than you'll ever know. I know I can't ever express how much you mean to me and how much I wish I could be there for you the way you've been there for me lately. I just wish I could give you something. Not an object, but like... a hope. Or something.
Now I'm just sounding lame. I just wanna leave you with something more than you already know. It's not like I can just buy you a cupcake and you'll be happy again. Not that I can really buy you anything, but that's not important.

What's important is you. I want you to be happy. Don't worry about me or be hung up over me not being able to feel anything. You should just be happy and go for the things that make you that way. I obviously don't.

If you need time away from me, I'll understand. If you need space.'

I'll understand, but I wouldn't like it.

I look up. I lean back and rest my head on the back of the couch. I look up at the ceiling.

I don't want him to leave.

“Morning,” Brian says. I lift my head and turn it towards him, getting kinda dizzy from the fast movement.
“Sleep well?” he asks with a slight smirk on his face. I smile, feeling kinda ridiculed, but in a good way – if that's possible.

Brian crashes down on the couch and yawns as he fumbles to find the remote that's right in front of him. I consider pushing it into his hand, but he finds it himself when he opens his eyes. The news come on TV, which reminds me of why I'm sitting here. Well, it's not the only reason, but it's part of it. I guess.

“So, what're you doing tomorrow?” I frown at his question. It's Thursday tomorrow.

“School?” I ask. Brian grunts a quick laugh.

“Tomorrow's Thanksgiving, in case you've forgotten.”
Thanksgiving. Damn, that's right.
“I assume you're not going to school, so,” he says and then switches the channel – to another news station.
“Got any plans?” I look down at my hands, feeling a sudden guilt punching me in the gut. I forgot to call Mikey.

“Yeah,” I answer quickly, looking up at the TV.
“I've been invited to a friend's for dinner.” I can't help but smile. The fact that I'll actually be spending Thanksgiving with a family is far beyond what I expected. I remember asking at the homeless shelter if they had any special meal for that day, but they just referred me to the soup kitchen. Which is actually how I found it in the first place. Before that...

I should call Mikey. I wonder if he's up.
I look at the time in the corner of the TV to see that it's already 7am.
Wow.

“That's real good actually. I was worried I'd have to leave you here on your own, 'cause I'm going to a friend's who's having a party, and since there'll be alcohol, I figure it's not an ideal place for a kid, you know?” Brian rambles.

I nod as a reply.

“How old are you, by the way?” he asks suddenly, probably part of his mental rant. I'm surprised at how awake he already is.

“16,” I say, but shaking my head as soon as it's out of my mouth.
“Sorry, 17. I just turned 17,” I correct myself, feeling stupid for doing so.

“When?”
Is this 20 questions?

“On Halloween,” I answer hesitantly, wondering where he's going with all these questions. I guess he's just trying to make smalltalk, but it's a weird way to do it. Or maybe he's just trying to bond with me – getting to know the guy who's sleeping on his couch, eating his food and taking his money.

“Oh, cool. So, did you celebrate it with a scary party or something?” he asks, smiling at the TV.

I look away, trying to figure out the best way to break this. Do I just tell him that I'm homeless and have no one left in the world? Or do I just say no and leave it at that?

“Or, did you just fork the front yards of the neighborhood?” Brian asks, grinning at himself a bit. I grin along, but it's fake. Brian doesn't seem to notice, but one thing I've noticed is that Brian isn't always what he seems.

“No,” I say, still not sure if I should continue or just leave it at that.

“Sucks,” Brian says, sounding bored. I think he's given up on talking to me. I guess I don't give very informational answers. I guess I should tell him. I guess he deserves to know about me.

I take a quick, yet deep, breath.

“Do you remember the woman who was,” I swallow, already feeling out of breath, “found murdered, a few days ago?” I look over at the TV, trying to read the breaking news that's flashing by at the bottom of the screen, but I can't focus.

“Yeah. She was strangled, right?” Brian asks, sounding real serious and grown-up, obviously trying to make conversation.

She was strangled.

I close my eyes, trying to rid my mind of the image of my mom having a string around her neck, gasping for air.
My chest hurts so badly.

“She,” I stutter out. I can't say it. It's too hard. It's too fucking hard telling someone you only know shallowly that you're mom is the woman who was found killed less than a week ago, and that I now have no one.
“She's my mom,” I whisper, my chest aching and my feet pounding.
I hear Brian sigh heavily beside me, turning in his seat. The sound from the TV suddenly stops and the light on the other side of my eyelids gets turned down a bit.

“What?”
I take a deep breath – the breath Brian seemed to be out of when he asked me.

“My dad left over a year ago. My grandma died soon after, leaving behind some money that my mom spent on my schooling. She payed ahead. My grandma wanted me to be the first in my family to finish high school. So did my mom.”

Brian sighs heavily again.

“Because of the money my mom inherited, she couldn't take any more mortgage on the house and she couldn't pay the bills or anything, so we...got evicted after 3 months. In May.”
Brian moves beside me, and out of the corner of my eye I see him cover his mouth with his hand. I don't dare look at his eyes.
“I'm homeless. My mom and I split up, because she thought she'd weight me down. She gave me half of what she had and left.” My throat starts to hurt, but my eyes don't. I'm not crying. My voice is weak and shaky and I feel like my chest is melting, but I'm not crying. Maybe I've cried what was needed for me to accept this.

“Oh, Frank,” Brian says and pulls me into a hug.
And then I cry.