Headfirst for Halos

The doctors let me out of hospital today. It was all sad smiles and gentle voices. I hated it. I want to scream and cry and break everything. I want to break everything so it matches with me.

I sit in the back of mum's car, silently staring out of the window and silently suffering with the half-hearted abuse mumbled at me.

"Faggot." She says. "Drug-dependent fag.'

Just little words. Just little words that burrow deep into my mind, expand, forcing fat little arms outwards, and crack my very sanity wide open like landscape. Words cannot hurt me. Words are not supposed to hurt like blows to the jaw. Words are not supposed to shatter the vessel you stand in. Words shouldn't make you afraid to keep on living. But they do. They do and we cannot ever stop them.

Words terrify me. Bruises and broken bones from unrelenting fists will heal. The tears in your mind, put there by knife-like words, will never fade. A word can so casually tip galaxies upside-down. A simple "I love you" to the person you thought they could never, ever be loved will bring bright light to their miserable existence; you will become the centre of a universe, you will be become the very oxygen they breathe. Yet, that same "I love you", but to that boy they were always burningly jealous of, can claw out your heart. These simple words will make you that all you come to be. All that you were. All that you are.

This is what terrifies me. I have to potential to reshape private universes, to play god and break lives. I have every last conventional weapon locked away behind my eyes, the power to set fires and laugh as they burn in silent agony.

"Stupid fucking fag."

Words can't you hurt you.

"Dumbass little faggot."

They can only destroy you, piece by piece. They can only take down the masks you wear in order to survive, brick by boring brick. They can only perform the purest torture on your very soul, agony after agony.

"Can't even commit suicide properly." The fact that she says it so casually torches my mind. She must love to watch as fire courses up my veins and chars my lungs. Her comments gain momentum and cruelty. "You're a failure; a disgrace. You make me sick. I can't even look at you."

Oh, believe me, I know the feeling.

"Sickening." Venom dribbles from between her ill-painted, pastel pink lips.

For outwards appearances, we must be a perfect family. Straight, successful, never taken any sort of pill, and no deviation from 'the norm'. It's painful to have to hide who you are from the people who are supposed to love you the most. It hurts to have to lie to the people who are meant to protect you at all costs. Hiding your very identity hurts almost as much as the beatings do, from both my dad and Him.

Everything hurts. Everything hurts so much. I am always burning; always drowning. I am always in blinding agony; I am always numb, senseless to the world.

She sits, unaware of the fight I am putting up against myself, hurling abuse across the small distance between us. That small distance between 'mother' and son is growing until huge mountains and plunging caverns separate us. I wish that those mountains and caverns would grow even further apart. Sometimes I miss my mum.

I miss her, the real her. The mother who would smile and stroke my hair. The mother who would play endless games with me and Gerard. The mother who never dreamt of hitting me or Gee. The mother she was supposed to be; the mother that was supposed to stay. When grandad died, my mum was replaced by a twisted, maniacal, brain-washed twin. I miss her so fucking much. Missing her adds to the pain of the bruises that beat just under my skin. Missing her adds to the constant burning, the constant drowning, of my mind.

Each words clogs in my throat like marbles, clamouring to get out. I can never say any of this to her. She will never understand how much I miss her. It kills me. It works away at my soul until I am nothing but a shadow. It claws at my heart until it is nothing but bloody ribbons. It shatters my eyes so I can't see the blindly obvious. It's obvious that she will never love me, or Gerard, again.

I want her too; but I also want her to drive this car off a cliff so we shatter on the perilous rocks below.

Decisions, decisions.

|-/

My return back home went as well as you might expect.

I walk in and my dad doesn't even look at me; says he can't. He sends me upstairs, 'out of his sight'. Gee runs up after dad isn't interested in either of his two sons anymore.

He bursts in, "Mikey!" He hugs me, hard. Both of the Way Brothers aren't used to affection from anyone, apart from each other. I hug him back, my heart breaking a little. "You're okay!"

"I would hardly say 'okay', Gee." I say dryly.

"Car journey with mum?" he shakes his head sympathetically.

"Got it in one." I grimace. "I'm still not over the mental trauma of overdose, never mind that." I try to joke about it. Bad move.

"Don't joke about it, Mikes." Gerard says sharply. "Don't fucking joke about it."

I cast my eyes down. "Sorry, Gee." I mumble, hanging my head a little.

"S'okay." He pulls me into him for another hug. "I missed you."

"I can't say I didn't miss you." I want to tell him so much, but I can't.

"Love you, Mikey." Gerard says, pulling away from me. Leaving me like everyone inevitably will. "Don't forget about that." He carefully closes my door behind him.

"I love you too, Gee." I might not be around for much longer. I need my oxygen supply back. Now. I can feel my lungs burn as my whole body cries out for a saviour. Where's Pete? My throat restricts as I fall to my bedroom floor, gasping for breath, clawing at the dusty grey carpet as if by ripping it, oxygen will flood back into my desperate lungs. My vision starts to go a little black around the edges: dark bubbles interrupt my line of sight. I need him. I need him so much. I need him as he is the very oxygen I breathe. Pete? Where are you? Please, I'm begging you, save me. I need help. I need pills. I need love. I need Pete. Why won't you come and rescue me, Pete? Won't you come around?

Please?

|-/

I wake to a scratching noise at my window. My sleep-addled brain pushes me across the fog that curls around my eyes. I walk across to the window, pausing to flick my light on as I pass it. Not realising that this could be a very bad idea, I open the window.

"Hey baby." A warm voice whispers. A sleepy smile works across my face as my brain registers the fact that my oxygen is flooding back into my lungs; that life is coursing up and down my veins. Pete leans into my bedroom and presses a small kiss to my chapped and faded lips; he drops down from the window ledge and into my arms.

"Pete." I mumble into the crook of his neck, feeling every last bit of my broken heart repair. It feels good, very good.

Taking me by the hand, he leads us to my bed and pulls the covers back. "Get in, baby. You need some sleep." I do as he says. He gently lays down next to me and covers the both of us carefully.

I love him.

"Once there was a boy called Mikeyway and a boy called Pete Wentz." He begins to say in a hushed voice.

"Are you reading me a bedtime story?" I ask, giggling a little.

"Yes, I am. Now shut up and let me carry on."

"Sorry." I say, still giggling. I cuddle up to him, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Mikeyway was a beautiful, talented kid who looked lost all the time. Pete wanted to be the one to save him; to show him unconventional beauty-"

"You mean fuck him?"

"Mikey. Let me carry on!" But Pete is laughing quietly too.

"But Mikeyway ended up being the one to save Pete. Mikeyway found Pete when he was dying. When Pete found Mikeyway he couldn't think straight. He was happy, sad. Sleepless, sleeping. He wrote all of his jumbled thoughts onto paper to try and understand why Mikeyway made him feel this way. He wrote:

It's not me, it's you

Actually, it's the taxidermy of you and me

Untie the balloons from around my neck and ground me

I'm just a racehorse on the track

Send me back to the glue factory

Always thought I'd float away

And never come back

But I've got enough miles on my card

To fly the boys home on my own

But you know me: I like being all alone

And keeping you all alone

And the charts are boring

And the kids are snoring

And my ego's in a sling

You said you're not listening and I said I'm wishing...

And I said... I said...

"Pete never knew what he was going to say, but when Mikeyway visited him in the hospital, he said it. He said 'I love you'. He was shocked when Mikeyway said it back with no hesitation. Pete loved Mikeyway and Mikeyway loved Pete. All was golden in the sky." Pete finished, his eyes shining with adoration and tears.

I kiss them away, I chase the tears away with my lips. "I love you so much, Pete." I chase away the demons with my words. "I love you to the end of the infinite universe."

"I love you as you love me, yet more." Pete kissed my forehead. "Now sleep."

I do.