Please, Won't You Push Me for the Last Time

~Kellin~

I am so fucked. And I’m freaking out as I run full speed to my safe haven. I just need to be alone so I can think of a way out of this. I already left home at an illegal hour after making sarcastic comments to my mom about the government. I know they will take me to the psychiatrists again, and I know what they’ll tell me to. They will tell me I am not patriotic, I am not fitting in, I am causing trouble for myself and then they will tell me they can fix it, like they can fix every disease. I am diseased. Maybe they’re right, I think as I fall to my knees in my favorite place in the world.

It’s stupid because it’s actually just a sewer, or what’s left of one anyway. Sometime around 2050 they finished replacing all the roads with some water absorbing, eco-friendly shit I don’t care about, but why bother messing with the old sewers? That’d only cost money. So they just closed them off, but there’s always ways around that. There’s these little square caverns every now and then that they closed off, and I assume they used to be available from the street itself, because there’s ladders that lead straight up to where the street is. I found them however, by the tunnels that connect them. Small, round passageways that nobody in their right mind would try to crawl through, they are pure concrete, no water has run through them for years, and they will scrape your knees and hands if you wear any modern clothes.

I was curious a few years ago, so I decided it’d be worth exploring them. I found out what they don’t know though; that when the cures came around, there were still people who believed it was wrong, and they hid things here. Beautiful things, art and music and instruments and journals, even clothes, all abandoned in this decaying old place.

And they were none the wiser, because who would want to defy them? Who wouldn’t want to be healthy and happy?

Me I suppose, and people like me. “Why even am I like this?” I shout to nothing, knowing there’s never anyone around in here, “why would I rather scream to myself on the floor of a fucking sewer than give up part of myself?” I was shaking now, but the screaming was a huge relief. So I started to sing. Not like I do in school where they think I’m a prodigy and I tell them I’ll be an entertainer, because that’s different, every pitch is calculated, toned and discreet. I sing things I know they will like, things that are mellow, relaxing, following the notes on a piece of paper. Here, I sing like I mean it, with all the emotions I am not supposed to have. I even scream, like I heard on some of the music players I found in here. I love the old music, listening to it feels amazing too, not like they say in History class. It doesn’t cause pain, but it doesn’t cure it either, it carries you through it, and helps you get stronger.

This is my safe haven. I can think things like this here, I can even write them down, and I do, almost every day. In my own journal, safe among the hundreds in this tiny cavern. But today is different, because when I look up after singing a few songs, the boy I ran into on the street is sitting, stunned, in the tunnel I use to get here.

~Vic~

I had torn up my clothes and skin from crawling after this boy in this tiny concrete tunnel, and for no logical reason at all, I followed him even after I was sure he was just leading me to both our deaths. Once he got to what I suppose was his destination, a tiny opening that was packed with objects I found very foreign, piles upon piles of bound papers and some musical instruments that looked strange and different from any I had ever seen. I was sure this boy wouldn’t want me here. However, he didn’t even notice me, and I thought maybe I should leave or announce myself when he started yelling, but then he started to…. sing I suppose. He did things with his voice I had never heard, didn’t even think was possible, alternating between beautiful, melodic pitches to this loud… screaming thing. I don’t even know how to describe it, but it was captivating and beautiful. I knew I couldn’t do anything that might disrupt him.

It didn’t even dawn on me that in this tiny room packed with strange old objects, he would soon notice me here. We stare at each other for a moment, me in awe, and him in fear, and I figured it might be best if I spoke first. “I’m sorry,” I said and he looked a bit taken aback, “I just… that was… beautiful.” He surprised me by smirking and relaxing a bit.

“Welcome to paradise,” the strange boy spoke, acquiring a sudden confidence. I hadn’t the slightest idea how to respond. “I bet you’re wondering what’s wrong with me.”

“No actually,” I respond honestly, “I mean, I should be, but I’m more wondering, just…. how?”

“How do I sing like that? How is this all here?” He raised an eyebrow, I just nodded. “We can cover that later, I’m Kellin, and you are?”

“Vic” I reply shortly.

“Alright Vic, how do I prevent you from ever speaking of what you saw here?” His expression was solemn and for a moment I’m scared, I mean, he does sound like he’s about to make a threat, but for some reason I think we both know I won’t tell anyone. If I tell anyone I’m sure they’ll get rid of all of this. I don’t know why I wouldn’t want that. It’s all dangerous, things they warn us about in school, this is how people get sick. But it’s all just so… beautiful.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I say simply. He looks at me for a moment, as if he’s trying to tell if I’m lying, but I suppose he was happy with what he saw because he relaxed again.

We sat in silence for a couple minutes. Kellin looked like he was lost in some deep thought, and as much as I wanted to look closer at some of the objects in this strange room, I don’t want to disturb him.

“I might not come down here again,” Kellin says suddenly. He says it so matter of fact, a distance expression on his face, and I gather that this place must mean a lot more to him than he wants to show me.

“Why not?” I ask him.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes today. They’ll want to fix me.”