à la folie

Oliver was nervous, his hands were fiddling overtime with the lid for the coffee he had bought, and his breathe didn’t seem quite right. He sat very close to me too, I don’t know why.

“Lesley really needs to get away from that bastard” He said shakily, and laughed, glaring down at the pavement “He is so fucking pathetic, that Gerard. Lesley needs someone right for him, I just...”

Lesley had said a weak ‘hi’ when we had seen him, and it had been more towards Oliver. A look from Gerard had stopped all notice that I existed, but I’m fine with that because I didn’t want to exist.

Thinking about suicide was something I shouldn’t do. Everything is just so empty and blue, but death is black.

Always has been.

“Fleance” I looked up, realising that the fairies had stolen me again; Oliver sighed then took my hand in his. My skin was so ugly. So pale. I want his skin, to wear like a king. “You know I- I like you, don’t you?”

My heart stopped. My breath hitched. I didn’t want to breathe. His hand burned me. I nodded, even though I didn’t. I don’t talk to people, people are blue. People mean noise. But not Oliver, he makes pretty noise that makes my headaches go away.

His lips are warm. I think lips are meant to be warm, I don’t know. I’ve never felt lips before. When he pulls away I put my fingers to my lips, their burning. Defiantly warm. Were they always so warm?

He makes a noise deep in his throat and keeps our hands threaded as he lifts the coffee to his mouth. The burning almost feels like nothing now, it almost feels nice. Except now my lips are getting hotter by the second, like their on fire.

I un-clasp my hand from his and walk away, my lips go cold.

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[Mental derangement]
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“Sweetheart, what do you want for breakfast?”

Breakfast. I hadn’t had that in years.

“Not hungry” I muttered, sipping on my coffee while leaning against the side, watching Angelica preparing toast for herself.

“No, Fleance, you have to eat” Food is disgusting. It tastes so disgusting. Humans are so inefficient.

Instead of answering, I drained my cup and nodded in her direction, turning to leave.

“Fleance! Get back here” I stopped. My ears were ringing, my limbs felt tired.

“I may not be your real mother but I’m as good as, now sit down and eat” Slowly, I faced the table and took a seat furthest from her, staring down at my pale hands. I wasn’t used to her being so pressing. She usually gave up.

I shifted uncomfortably as she placed two pieces of toast in front of me, dripping with butter. It made me feel sick to the bones, I looked away and my nose twitched, it smelt okay. I think. I’m not sure. Coffee smelt good though, and this didn’t smell like coffee.

Under the piercing gaze of an out-of-character Angelica I lifted one piece to my mouth and took an experimental bite. My mouth was flooded with flavours and I dropped it, closing my eyes and leaning forward. I could feel my brain trying to identify everything; I could feel the throbbing of my tongue.

It’s not like I didn’t’ eat, just not in the morning, when everything was sharper. That’s why coffee and cigarettes were much more relaxing. But food just seemed... too alive for the early hours. I didn’t want to eat it. Too much for my brain.

Without a word I pushed my chair back out and stood, staring down at my plate for a moment.

“I...no” I murmured quietly looking up at Angelica before walked from the kitchen, slipping through the front door and drawing a cigarette from my pocket. Instead of sitting on the wall surrounding the front garden as I usually did, I walked a bit further to the wall of a broken down factory and sat there instead, well out of eye-sight of my home.

The air surrounding me was a comforting warm, and the wall its self seemed to emit some warmth, relaxing my muscles along with the nicotine. I sighed out smoke and looked down at the crumbling wall. It was made from a dark grey brick, with greying cement holding it all together. Weeds and grass sprouted from little collections of mud caught in holes, a singular ant crawled along this patch of dirt, twitching its antennas lackadaisically.

“Fleance?” I looked up; expecting to see Oliver, but what met my eyes was a dishevelled looking Lesley with a cigarette hanging from his fingers; as was his trademark.

“What’re you doing out here?” My eyes skimmed his body; his vest slipped slightly at the armpits and I could just make out a sliver of purple/black bruising. His jeans were creased and his shoes on the wrong feet, shadows clung to the underside of his eyes and his messy hair had the wrong parting.

“Smoking” came my eventually reply, leaving my mouth as a next to silent drawl, he nodded like it explained everything and stood there, just watching me. I felt uncomfortable under his green gaze and felt the need to do something to stop him, but I couldn’t think what.

“You don’t look too good” He muttered, taking a breath from his cigarette and looking me straight in the eye.

“Ditto”

Real silence laid heavy and thick over the atmosphere, I couldn’t even think what to think, my mind remained painfully empty except for the constant dull throb of sleepless nights and startling noises. Lesley sighed, breaking the sense of danger surrounding the conversation and came and sat next to me, jumping slightly to get on the wall.

He was so small.

And I would have said as much, if I hadn’t noticed the black bruise now occupying his hip. I couldn’t drag my eyes away. The outside of the bruise bordered on green. I wondered if I bruised myself that it would turn green.

That would be so pretty.

“What...your hip” Lesley looked down and tugged quickly on the material of his grey t-shirt, covering his hip and exposing the start of one on his chest.

“Your chest...” Lesley cursed and stood up once more, adjusting his t-shirt completely so it covered the maximum amount of skin.

“What...I... Your side?”

“Just shut the fuck up Fleance and stop staring at me” He growled, throwing his cigarette at the floor and fixing me with hard eyes. Quickly I stared down at my lap and brought the cigarette my lips. Don’t talk. Don’t talk. Don’t look. Don’t look. I closed my eyes.

Blue.

Angelica was mad at me, Lesley was mad at me. Jack was right. I couldn’t do anything right. And I didn’t even know what I was doing. My head hurt and so did my throat, and now I don’t understand why I talked so much in the first place. Just shut the fuck up Fleance.

Shut the fuck up.

I heard Lesley walk away, I didn’t look up. He didn’t want me to look at him, so I made sure he was well gone before I took my eyes from my lap.

I want pretty green bruises.