Behind My Mask

Hours had crept by me, as silently as one would try to pass through a room, with creaking floor boards, trying to not wake the sleeping body; if not careful the body would no longer be sleeping, instead it would be wide awake, breaking everything in sight, including itself.

My face was held captive in my palms; my eyes were like a broken pipe, the tears would not stop flowing. I had stopped emitting any sort of sound, I wasn't sobbing, the tears were just flowing out of me. There was no way to stop them.

I had been startled out of my state with a familiar hand on my shoulder; I didn't bother looking up, or even moving, I knew who it was without the need for confirmation.
He moved around me, pulling me into his strong, protecting arms; instantly I felt better, but my feelings started to flood out of me from the beginning. This time it wasn't anger, it was pure, genuine sadness; my mum would no longer be there, she won't be able to watch me grow up, get married, have kids. I won't be able to see her grow old, I won't be able to turn to her for advice.
What I hadn't realized until now was that she was my life support; she had been essential in my life whether I liked it or not, I had fully depended on her, fully trusted her guidance. But now that little light that used to show me the way was fading.

I could hear faint murmurs coming from Vic; he would be my life support. He had ensured me that I can trust him, and I intend to do just that. I had found out long ago, that in life I can't survive on my own; it is too emotionally straining, and it would end my sanity in a matter of seconds

"Please, never leave me" My raw voice prevented me from uttering anything more than just those four words. I had thought that he hadn't heard me, but I was quickly proven wrong.
"I promise Kellin, I will never, ever leave you"

We stayed like that; I felt that for the first time I was opening myself up for someone to see, I was feeling vulnerable to be seen at such a state, but his arms were a much stronger shield than I could ever be able to set up. I trusted him with everything I had, but with my broken and fucked up mind, there wasn't much that I had to give, and there wasn't much he could take from me apart from my heart and soul. But he didn't need to take it from me, as he already owned it all.

I had poured everything out of my system; completely everything that I have been holding back, too afraid to release until this day.
I was ready to head back; to spend the last few months creating happy memories with my mum, so that not just bitter ones were left. I knew I would regret it if I left her now, knowing the pain I had added on her already dying conscience. The guilt of it would chase me for the rest of my life, and nothing would be able to stop it.

Once I entered the house she was still there, just were I left her; she heard my footsteps, and had hopefully looked up at me. I smiled that same sad smile she had given me just a few hours ago; I sat back down where I had been, and we just talked. We talked about everything we had always thought, felt or experienced. We shared everything with each other, because we knew that there was no point in holding anything back.

Me and my mum were growing closer with every word that we uttered; it filled me with joy, but a painful stab to my already wounded heart would come with it, I knew that she would not be with us for long, so getting close to her seemed so pointless, but at the same time it was full of purpose.

I spent most of those four remaining months with my mum; the days I would spend with her, but at nights I would go to Vic. I needed the comfort he could give, if it weren't for him I know I wouldn't be able to go through with this now. I know for sure that I would have resorted to self harm, and maybe even suicide, because before Vic, I had nothing to live for. Nothing stopped me but my mum, and now Vic is the one who I have devoted myself to.

At her funeral I didn't cry, I had already poured everything I had to the point where I almost felt nothing; I knew that I would always have that nagging sadness hiding at the corner of my mind, but I knew nothing of how to stop it.
Her death had been quiet; I had found her at that exact same desk, her limp body resting on the table. She had refused to go to the hospital while she was still alive, and they had let her; it was her dying wish to spend the last moments of her life in her home.
My siblings had been there; they cared enough to spend time with her, making her happy in her last days.

After the funeral I didn't go to my house, I went to Vic, the only place I truly felt at home was by his side. My own house felt foreign to me, and my family didn't mind in the least that I never showed my face, they couldn't care less.
I practically lived in Vic's house, but no one minded; they understood my grief, and the support I needed at the moment, and I was grateful for their kind hearts.

I think that Vic's parents could tell how broken up I was on the inside; the way they treated me, and looked at me, with such caution and kindness. It was hard to not read the signs they were emitting. That didn't mean I didn't like it, it felt nice to know that someone was caring for you, even if it could be fake.

"Have you been singing lately?" One night Vic had unexpectedly asked me; just like any night we were laying in his bed, slowly drifting off to sleep, but I guess neither one of us could truly sleep while with all the thoughts swirling through our heads. I couldn't fathom what could be troubling him, and I didn't bother to ask either.

"Haven't had the chance"
"Well, I think you should. I haven't heard your singing in a very long time"
"Neither have I you"
Our conversation was mere murmurs, but it was just enough for us to hear in the otherwise silence filled room.

I guess that it was a way for him to try to get my mind off my mum, and I was grateful to him for trying. I was grateful to have him.