Status: Hiatus
The Aftermath
001 ; Find out first hand what it is like to be me
I stared at my brother. For a 15-year-old with glasses he was quite pretty. For a boy currently crying his eyes out, he was actually pretty damn gorgeous.
I was, of course, fairly drunk already at that point. Not that he noticed as I drew him into a hug and dragged him in through the door and all the way to my room. That was not really necessary, taking him to my room in the basement, since our parents were out. But I was drunk, and it was where I wanted him.
“Mikey, what happened?” I cooed, sitting on my bed, and sitting him in my lap.
Mikey simply hid his face in my shoulder and continued sobbing.
“Michael,” I tried putting a little more strength into my voice.
Maybe he tried explaining properly then, maybe he just spoke the few words he could not stop from spilling along with his never-ending flow of tears. I sat with him for maybe half an hour before he quietened down.
Even then he would not tell me exactly what had happened, but I pieced the story together from the stray words I had caught.
He had gone to a party. Somebody in our high school had thrown one tonight, I knew. He had gone, but he had not been let in. Also they had not been nice about it; I did not need any evidence for that apart from the state my little brother was in. They had treated him like an outcast.
In other words, they had treated him like me.
When that realisation sank in, before Mikey was even done crying, it hurt. It hurt so badly that even the booze I had already drunk did nothing to quell the pain. And I realised, I needed something stronger.
“Mikey,” I said softly as my brother removed his glasses, dried his eyes, and quickly climbed out of my lap, “it'll be okay.”
I had the feeling that I had to tell him something. That they do not matter, and that the pain does not last. And I realised maybe he needed something too.
“No, it won't, Gee,” my brother said in a hoarse voice and I sighed.
In a way he was right and I knew it, but at least I had a way of dealing with the pain.
“It'll be okay. Tonight,” I disagreed, before getting up.
I felt my brother's eyes on me as I started to dig up things I had hidden. Things that all teenage boys hide as colourful magazines, and things hopefully not so many hide as colourful pills.
I turned around in time to see my brother widen his eyes at the little plastic bag in my hand. I smiled softly.
“We are going to have ourselves a good time tonight, little bro,” I whispered at him.
I was, of course, fairly drunk already at that point. Not that he noticed as I drew him into a hug and dragged him in through the door and all the way to my room. That was not really necessary, taking him to my room in the basement, since our parents were out. But I was drunk, and it was where I wanted him.
“Mikey, what happened?” I cooed, sitting on my bed, and sitting him in my lap.
Mikey simply hid his face in my shoulder and continued sobbing.
“Michael,” I tried putting a little more strength into my voice.
Maybe he tried explaining properly then, maybe he just spoke the few words he could not stop from spilling along with his never-ending flow of tears. I sat with him for maybe half an hour before he quietened down.
Even then he would not tell me exactly what had happened, but I pieced the story together from the stray words I had caught.
He had gone to a party. Somebody in our high school had thrown one tonight, I knew. He had gone, but he had not been let in. Also they had not been nice about it; I did not need any evidence for that apart from the state my little brother was in. They had treated him like an outcast.
In other words, they had treated him like me.
When that realisation sank in, before Mikey was even done crying, it hurt. It hurt so badly that even the booze I had already drunk did nothing to quell the pain. And I realised, I needed something stronger.
“Mikey,” I said softly as my brother removed his glasses, dried his eyes, and quickly climbed out of my lap, “it'll be okay.”
I had the feeling that I had to tell him something. That they do not matter, and that the pain does not last. And I realised maybe he needed something too.
“No, it won't, Gee,” my brother said in a hoarse voice and I sighed.
In a way he was right and I knew it, but at least I had a way of dealing with the pain.
“It'll be okay. Tonight,” I disagreed, before getting up.
I felt my brother's eyes on me as I started to dig up things I had hidden. Things that all teenage boys hide as colourful magazines, and things hopefully not so many hide as colourful pills.
I turned around in time to see my brother widen his eyes at the little plastic bag in my hand. I smiled softly.
“We are going to have ourselves a good time tonight, little bro,” I whispered at him.
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First chapter. Don't know how I feel about the layout or anything, but I wanted to put this up tonight, so here goes.I'll decide what I think about the rest in the morning!