The Hearts of Lonely People

{Title cred: Bulls in the Bronx– Pierce the Veil}

Vic’s P.O.V:

“Ding!” The bell sang; signaling school was out. I quickly sit up and race for the door, only to be stopped by the teacher’s hand on my shoulder. Students jog past me to meet up with their friends, starting their weekend. Jonny walks past me and gives me a worried smile. I sigh. Mr. Stevenson is a cool guy, he has a lot of tattoos and he’s really good at guitar and piano. We have conversations after school all the time. He lets me call him by his first name too; Braiden. “Vic, can we talk for a moment?” It’s not like I don’t want to it’s just my dad comes home early on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. If I’m not home he gets aggressive. My dad used to be a great father to me and my brother, but as a young boy I would catch him hurting mom. I wouldn’t say anything because I was scared. When I came out to my parents they flipped out and my dad started drinking more than usual. He would come home late from bars and hit me and my mom. She couldn’t take the abuse anymore and left, leaving me and Mike in a broken home. I basically ruined our relationship because of my sexuality. Mike is always out smoking pot with his friends, or drinking at parties so he rarely is home. Apparently failing in two classes and doing drugs is an accomplishment in my father’s eyes. I play with my hands anxiously and Mr. Stevenson, Braiden, shuts the door. He sits on the floor and tunes my guitar.

“I-I can’t stay here my dad is coming home.” I flop on the ground anyway. “Why don’t you just text him you’ll be a little late?” The young teacher flashes me a reassuring smile. “Okay.” I agree mentally slapping myself in the face. ‘Dumbass, dads gonna kill you.’ “What happened to your face?” He reaches out, gently moving the hair covering my eyes. My face burns nervously. Stop Vic, he’s in his twenties. “Rick.” I reply quietly, staring at the carpet. He lets out a puff of air. “Does your dad know about this guy?” He questions with an eyebrow raised. “Yeah.” I mumble. He sighs in frustration. He takes a pick out of his pocket and begins strumming my guitar lightly. “Well, how’s everything been?” His brown eyes flick up. He’s so damn attractive. The fact that he cares makes me feel all fuzzy inside and, well, wanted. “To be honest, everything’s been real shitty.” I play with my hair. “I’m sorry, Vic.” We make sudden eye contact. His eyes flick to my lips for a moment, but meet back up with my eyes. He blushes and returns his glare to the guitar. Did he want to kiss me? I smile a little. ‘Why would he wanna kiss you? No one likes you.’ The shadow in my mind screams. I stop grinning. “How’s your song coming along?” the corners of his lips perk up a little. I play music for him sometimes. He thinks I’m “talented”. ‘Ha. Whatever helps you sleep at night.’ I hit my head with my balled up hands, closing my eyes. I open them up to find the teacher smirking at me and chuckling a little. I bring my arms down and my face burns again. “I-it’s going well. The guitar is pretty much done, I have absolutely no lyrics though.” I bite my lip out of habit. “It’ll come to you.” He nods handing me my guitar. “Play something for me?” He sticks out his bottom lip. I fake an annoyed glare. “Fine, Braiden.” I roll my eyes. “Watch the tone, Victor.” He smirks. I laugh lightly and play a song I made up when I was still with my ex Kellin.

“As we wake up in your room

Your face is the first thing I see

The first time I’ve seen love

And the last I’ll ever meet

You remind her

That your future

Would be nothing without her

Never lose her, I’m afraid

Better think of something good to say

But it’s all been done more than once so I’ll keep on trying

Oh God don’t let me be the only one who says

No! At the top of our lungs,

There’s no, no such thing as too young

When second chances won’t leave you alone,

Then there’s faith in love.”

I look up, still playing, to see my teacher smiling. He grabs a small drum and starts to hit it along with the beat of the song. I chuckle a bit before continuing.

"She was always the one,

I'll repeat it again, the one,

No such thing as too young,

Red lights flash in the car we're kissing in,

Call me crazy,

I've always tried to remind her that the future's

Just a few heartbeats away from disaster.

I'm afraid that I've thrown it all away!

No! At the top of our lungs,

There's no, no such thing as too young,

Second chances won't leave you alone

No at the top of our lungs,

There's no, no such thing as too young,

Second chances won't leave you alone

We'll repeat it again,

There's no, no such thing as too young,

Second chances won't leave you alone,

'Cause there's faith in love..

If you kiss me goodnight,

I'll know, everything is alright,

Second chances won’t leave us alone!

Won’t leave us alone..

'Cause there's faith in love”

(A/N: Sorry if I fucked those lyrics up…)

We stop playing and Braiden smiles. “I love your voice” He whispers. I can’t help but grin madly at his compliment. “Thanks.” I reply, blushing and playing with my hair once again. I checked the time on my phone and my eyes widen. “Hey, Braiden I really, really have to go.” I pleaded. The time was four forty; dad gets out of work by five and I have to walk home. He notices the panic in my voice and his eyebrows pull together. “Vic, is everything okay?” He questions. I stand up, grabbing my guitar. “E-everything-everything’s fine.” I stumble to the door, he stands up. “Do you need a ride home?” He scratches the back of his neck, exposing his flat stomach, painted with tattoos. So hot. “Actually yes, please. That would help a lot.” I reply quietly, breathing a sigh of relief. “Alright go get your stuff I’ll wait in here.” He smiles faintly.

We reach Braiden’s truck and he walks over to the passenger side, opening the door for me. I grin a bit and hop in. He shuts the door and trots to the other side, popping the door open and sliding in. “Buckle up, Victor.” He smirks, doing so himself. I giggle, fastening my seatbelt. I check the time and see its four fifty. It usually takes dad ten minutes to get home from work. From school to home usually takes twenty minutes. If I would’ve walked it would’ve taken about an hour. Thank God for this man. He turns on his car and sets up his GPS system to get to my house. He hands me a book full of CDs and tells me “Pick something.” I flip through the pages filled with albums from The Offspring, Nirvana, Blink-182, Taking Back Sunday, The Used, Thursday, and other bands of the same genre. “You have the best taste in music, Bray.” He grins at the nickname I gave him. “Thanks, kid. Find anything you fancy?” Braiden asks. “Hmm,” I flip another page and pick up Fall Out Boy’s album From Under the Cork Tree. He stops at a red light and I gently place the CD on his lap. He looks up at me and cocks an eyebrow. I smile, showing him my crooked teeth. He laughs cutely and pops in the disk. We sit there for a moment without speaking. I hum along to Sugar We’re Going Down, enjoying the presence of the older man. “So how’s the friend situation going?” He asks, glancing away from the road for a moment. “Well, I almost had a friend today.” I turned toward the window trying to avoid the subject. He lightly touched my forearm in a comforting way. “Why ‘almost’?” He frowns a little, concerned eyes lock back on the road. “I just screw everything up, and I don’t really want to talk about it.” I muffle a reply into my sleeve. I don’t need to be telling my music teacher I sliced up, and still continue to slice up, my arms, and varies of other places. He’ll think I’m a loser; a faggot for that matter, just like everyone else believes I am. He pats my back and flashes me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay Vic; I never had a lot of friends in school either.” I turn back to face him. “At least you had friends, Bray. I don’t even have anyone to talk to besides you and my dad who hates my guts.” I mumble the last part through my teeth. I regret saying that aloud, even though he didn’t hear it. Did he? “What was that? You’re so quiet.” His eyebrows connected while watching the ongoing road, we were about five blocks away from my house. “I, uh, nothing.” I sighed deeply. “Well, alright. We’re almost to your home I see.” He points to the GPS smiling lightly. I nod. I hope he doesn’t think of me differently when he sees the dump I live in. It was more so on the inside than the outside though, so that’s good. Mike and I live in an old two story home. The molten wood is coming apart on the walls, broken windows in the front, blocked off windows in the upstairs, the trashed steps to the door were painted a vintage mint color that faded over time, the door is a simple torn up screen door, and the yard in front holds dead grass and weeds; the appearance of our home symbolizes how much my life has come apart, in my opinion. The home used to be so pretty and perfect in my earliest years. Almost funny how everything in my life is crumbling down, huh? Maybe I should just end it. Hell, that’s what everyone wants from me anyways. I bit my lip in thought, remembering the look of amusement in my tormenting peers’ eyes as they chanted insults at me this morning. ‘Why don’t you just do us a favor, and kill yourself’ a tear rolled down my cheek. Why can’t I be like one of them? A clone of our society accepted population, making it by in life with such ease. It must be great. “Vic, you alright?” Braiden’s soothing voice brought me back to reality. I wiped my face. “I’m fine.” He shook his head and turned the corner about to arrive at my house. “Thanks for driving me, Bray.” I smile weakly; pathetically, “No problem, kid.” He grins. My eyes fill with terror as I notice my dad’s beat up Jeep was parked on the uneven driveway. He stopped at the front and I could see a look of sympathy on his features. “Vic,” He stopped me before I got out of the car, whispering “Are you sure, you’re safe here? Don’t lie to me.” I look up at him with scared eyes. “I-I’m fine I promise.” I hate lying to him, but I have to. Braiden grabs my arm and a sharpie, “Bray, don’t” I pull my arm back. “Why? I was just going to give you my number,” He whines. “Sorry, here,” I pass him my notebook, with a shaky hand and he quickly scribbles down his number. “Thanks again, see you soon.” I raced for the door, knowing I won’t be ‘seeing him soon’ considering I’m planning to end my crumbled life tonight. I open the screechy door only to be roughly pulled in by my dad. Here we go again.

The inside of my home reeks of nicotine and alcohol. Empty beer cans and cigarette cartons line the floor. He shoved me against the wall and slapped me hard against my face. “Who the fuck was that?” my so loving father spits in my face. “M-my-my music teacher.” I whimpered out, earning me another hit. “What did I tell you about stuttering, faggot?” He shouts and throws me to the ground, causing a light thud against the gruesome matted carpet. I grab my head in pain, “S-sorry, sir.” I can’t help it; he scares me so bad, it’s hard to even speak. He reaches down to my level, throwing punches to my stomach, then standing up and kicking me in the same spot. I let out a groan and clutch my gut. “You’re so fucking pathetic. Why the hell was a music teacher bringing you home, faggot?” He pulls me up by my straightened locks, I yelp and he pins me back to the wall. “He-He offered to a-and I didn’t know wh-what to say, sir.” I lie. He slaps me once more but stops to look at my face in his obviously drunken haze. He points to my eye and I flinch. He slaps me hard for that as well. “Who did that?” He slurs pointing again. “This douche at school.” I mumble and he laughs, “Serves you right, huh?” He punches me in the shoulder and my knees buckle. “Y-yes, sir.” I kept my gaze on the floor. He walked out the front door, probably to go drink some more. “Fuck you.” I whisper, tears welling up my eyes. I ran up to my room, slamming my door. I slide down it, hugging my fragile knees to my chest. My breathing picks up with short rapid puffs. I can’t help but wonder why the hell everything bad seems to happen to me. Mike has plenty of friends, is it because he’s tough? Probably. I sigh and stand up, walking over to my bed. I kneel down and feel around underneath it. My hand hits a familiar hard object and I drag it out. I grab the box and making sure my door is locked, I sit on the floor, pulling off my hoodie. How many days was I clean? Oh yeah, zero. How fucking disappointing. Jonny would be upset about this, that’s for sure. He cared enough to confront me about it too. I bit the inside of my cheek. I took my blade and pushed it hard against my wrist, dragging it, creating a red horizontal line, painting my skin. The blood trickles down my arm and I slice my wrist again, earning a hiss out of my mouth from the stinging sensation. I have no idea why this is so addicting, I remember the first time I cut; it hurt, but I enjoyed it, it was and still is my escape. About eight cuts later, I sit up, blood covers my forearm. I think I went a little overboard this time, but that doesn’t matter. I wonder if Mike will even care when they find me dead. Sure he’s my brother, but we’ve been so distant these past years and it saddens me. We were such good friends before I came out and ruined everything. I stand, gloomily walking out of my room to the bathroom Mike and I share. I lift my head up, looking at my reflection. Disgusting. “I wish you were never born” I timidly say to myself. My arms hold my upper body weight on the tiled counter. “You fucking faggot.” More encouraging words flow out of my mouth. The blood begins to dry on my skin, I know that if I wipe it then it would just bleed more, causing an even larger mess; so I let it be. “I hate you so much.” I check out my ugly features; the purple bruise surrounding my eye, the mark on my chin, the proof of abuse on my stomach, cheek, chest, and some on my arms. I glare at myself and bend down to the cabinets, opening them and searching for any form of pills I could take. My vision lands on a bottle of Tylenol. I pick it up and read the warning. “WARNING: Do not consume more than…” I pour a damaging looking amount of the substance into my hand. I lay them on the countertop and start counting. “One, two…” I start and end at “forty.” I sourly smile and pick the pills back up into my cupped hand. I took a deep breath and shove them into my mouth. I lay my head under the sink and drink them all down. I turn to see Mike walking into the bathroom. He stops grinning and widens his eyes looking at my fat body, then my bleeding arm. “WHAT THE HELL, VIC?!” He runs up to me grabbing my wrist and examining it. “I-I, uh” He hushes me, “Don’t even start, what the fuck, dude.” He shakes his head and grabs a towel, turning on the sink and washing down my arm. He sees the past scars and he looks traumatized, his face pale. “Vic, how long have you been doing this?” He began but my hearing and thought process soon clouds up and I cough up some blood.

Mike’s P.O.V:

“So, I’ll see you later?” My girlfriend at the moment, Daniele, asks, kissing the corner of my lips. “Sure thing, babe, I’ll text you, ‘kay?” She nods and drops me off my disturbing home. We’re not the richest family; my dad is an angry drunkard. Our home fumes with the scent of alcohol and smoke. No big deal, I’m never here anyways. I walk inside my house. It’s always so quiet. I trot upstairs to the second floor, still smiling widely, knowing that I’ll probably get to bang Daniele on our next date. I hear muffled sobs and the sink turn on then off. It was probably Vic, maybe I should talk to him. He’s always getting beat up at school and he doesn’t really have friends, I would stick up for him, but he needs to learn how to be a man. I turn the corner and am shocked by what I witness. My older, but much smaller, brother was shirtless, exposing every bone, bruise, and his arms. “WHAT THE HELL, VIC?!” I yell and grab his wrist. I looked at it and noticed scars that were probably years old, newer scars, red scars, and the obvious blood gushing marks he probably just did. “I-I, uh.” I cut him off “Don’t even start, what the fuck, dude” Harming yourself isn’t normal, who the fuck does that? I’m shocked; I never knew he was in so much pain. I grab a nearby towel and pour lukewarm water on it. I scrub the blood off his arms and his eyes begin to look a little sleepy, he isn’t really speaking. It was a bit awkward. “Vic, how long have you been doing this?” I question, looking down at his face. He doesn’t respond, just looks up at me a bit out of it. “Vic, stop you’re scaring me.” He coughs up a small amount of blood and It’s now that I look down and notice a spilt bottle of Tylenol on the bathroom floor. He didn’t. “VIC, PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T” I shout, tears flowing out of my eyes. What am I doing? I take my phone out and call the police. “911, what’s the emergency?” “MY BROTHER JUST-JUST TRIED TO OVERDOSE HURRY HERE PLEASE!” “Sir, calm down.” I do as I’m told and tell the operator our address. Vic passed out on the bathroom floor and I hug him to my chest. “Please don’t die, oh God!” I cry. An ambulance finally arrives after what seems like hours and I run down the stairs, carrying my light older brother in my arms. “HELP PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO HURRY!” I hand the professionals Vic’s limp body. “We’re going to do what we can to save him sir. We’ll inform you when he’s okay.” I beg to go with him but they refuse. I get in my car and speed down the road. “Please be okay, please be okay, please.” I whisper, tearing up again. I’m so stupid, how did I not notice he needed me? He needed anybody. I shouldn’t have avoided him for so long. Vic is such a fragile person, and I just left him there. What have I done?
I sit in the boring waiting room, well, waiting I guess; waiting to hear that my brother is fine, waiting to hear my best friend growing up hasn’t done what I thought he did, waiting to hear anything but the truth. He tried to kill himself. I lean my head back and grab my face with my hands. “What the hell did I do?” I whisper, crying again. Maybe it wasn’t me though; maybe he got tired of my dad’s endless abuse, maybe he got tired of being constantly reminded that mom left because of his sexuality, I don’t know. All I know is that if he lives, things are going to change. I’m going to stand up for him and I don’t care if I lose all of my friends. I take out my phone and check my messages.
Dani-booo<3 (5:50):

Hey, you wanna come over and chill out; maybe smoke a little? (;

Dani-booo<3(6:35):
Soo, that’s a no, huh? :\

I sigh before replying,

Me (7:33):
Sorry, I’m at the hospital. Vic passed out.

I don’t plan on telling everybody Vic attempted suicide; that would be a bitch move. I rub my eyes and stand up to stretch a bit. My phone vibrates again and I unlock it to read the reply from Daniele.

Dani-booo<3 (7:34):
Ugh, who cares about him anyways? I still can’t believe you guys are related tbh. He’ll wake up. Come over! Lol (;

I can’t believe she just said that. I angrily shove my phone in my pocket and just as I’m about to sit down somebody calls my name. “Mike Fuentes?” I quickly rush over to the source, a young dark-skinned nurse grinning. “You’re Victor’s brother?” She leads me through the hall “Yeah, is he okay?” I worriedly reply. “Yes sir, he’s awake and alive! He was low on blood as well from the obvious self-mutilation, and he’s extremely underweight, I’m surprised he made it through this considering the estimate on how many pills he took.” My mind wasn’t settling well with this information. I rub my face with my hand as we continue walking through the endless halls. We finally stop at a room labeled ‘C235’. “You can go in and see him” I open the door and race to Vic’s side. He looks so weak and tired. I sit on a chair next to the uncomfortable looking hospital bed and take his limp hand in mine. “Vic, why would you do that?” tears block my vision, but I quickly wipe them away. He avoids making eye contact, sitting up. I think he’s embarrassed or something. “I don’t wanna talk about it. You don’t care anyways, why are you here? Why did you bring me here even?” He covers his face with his hands. “Really? Did you seriously just say that? I don’t care?! Do you know what it’s like to see you like this? It’s fucking heartbreaking, Vic. You were my best friend and I admit I regret suddenly being so distant. I love you, you’re my brother.” I’m a shouting and crying mess, I understand he doesn’t like me being so loud, but I can’t help it right now. He looks up at me and I now notice the bruises on his face. “Y-you don’t care. You can’t possibly love me, or even ca-care about me, after all that’s happened. You left me alone, Mike. Through everything y-you never even asked me if I was okay, and-and obviously I wasn’t look where we are. What’s dad gonna do when he finds out, Mike? I guess it doesn’t matter to you, what he does to me doesn’t hurt you, huh?” He states quietly, sniffling and shaking the entire time. I don’t even know what to say, I realize how much of an inconsiderate jerk I’ve been. “I’m so sorry.” I cry out, my head in my hands. “Y-you hurt yourself so much, why? That’s not normal, Vic!” I rub my face. “It’s so disturbing, man.” I mumble out with sobs. “I-I, I don’t know how to explain it without sounding insane though.” He let out a small giggle. I don’t really see this situation as something to laugh about though; I think he noticed too considering the awkward silence. “It’s just; it’s so soothing for me, Mike. It’s my only escape. I-I feel so much relief when I, when I hurt myself. I deserve the pain.” Vic looked down in his lap and then to his arm. Tears spilled out of his eyes. “Look what I’ve done.” He exposes his work to me, whispering. He smiles wickedly, wiping his tears. “I’m so pathetic, I know.” He chuckles. “Vic, you’re not pathetic, stop joking around and pretending it’s all okay. You don’t ‘deserve the pain’ why do you think that?” I argue using my fingers to quote him. “You know what, Mike? That’s real funny coming from you. Stop joking around and pretending it’s all okay? Kind of hypocritical, huh? Fuck you. You know why I think I d-deserve the pain?” His shouting turns back into a soft tone. “b-because that’s all I ever get, Mike. You wouldn’t understand, you’ll never understand. Do you know how many friends you have? Dad l-loves you, and I’m sure mom still does too. I don’t have any of that, not even you half of the time. We have five-second conversations per week at most.” Vic sniffles out and lies back down. He curls up in the ‘fetus position’ and sighs. “I do care, Vic. I really do.” I wipe my tears once again. “Things are gonna change, I promise. We can hang out like old times, we can play video games, and you can play your guitar and I’ll play my drums.” I grin, “And in school; you can walk around with me and if anyone tries to hurt you, I’ll protect you, okay? I don’t know what to do with dad, he could kill both of us and you know that. We-we can’t tell anyone though.” He nods. “Thanks Mike.” We hug. “Can I leave now?” he mumbles in my shoulder. We both laugh and I let go of him. “I think we have to wait for the” I start but get cut off by the door swinging open, revealing the same nurse. “You can leave now, but you have to watch your brother carefully! You’re lucky the doctor didn’t have him sent to the asylum.” She glares at Vic and he bites his lip, shivering. “Thanks a lot, doc’.” I grin and help my brother up.