Identical Hazel Eyes

Aboard the bus heading to the next city after the concert, all four of you sit on the second story lounge of the bus. Hanging out like usual after a show, you sit in your seat at the table, Gustav across from you with his laptop in front of him. Tom and Georg are sitting side by side, Tom on the couch and Georg in the chair behind yours, playing Halo while shooting competitive comments back and forth.

"Hey! That's not fair," Georg's jaw drops. "I didn't use the death stick! Why should you?"

"Because I'm better than you," Tom nods, continuing to hit Georg's player with his sword.

You turn back to look out the window. The brown blinds are pulled up to reveal the tinted cars and street lamps on the freeway. You're mesmerized by the passing lights to the point where you zone out in thought. You start off wondering what it'd be like to be a light post. Just sitting there lighting the path for others while you're stuck in one spot, never to change.

This thought leads you to think about Lairah and the photo. After the concert, she met up with you backstage with a pass around her neck. You smiled at her and she joined you on the couch. You moved to pull the photo out of your pocket, ready to talk to her about how she found it. It was obvious, but you wanted to be sure.

"How did you...?" you asked, showing her the picture.

She smiled, "I was there, on the sidewalk, waiting for my friend to show up. It fell on me and I looked up to see you on the ledge."

Her smile faded and she looked down at her hands in her lap. You did the same, embarrassed, but thankful. You were glad that she gave the picture back for two reasons. One; you didn't want it floating around the Internet, though something like it already had been. Two; it made you realize that you do have an effect on someone and that there's a lot of people in the world that love you. Her timing had been perfect. Just the point you needed reassurance that you need to keep going on.

"Please don't tell," you looked back up at her to see her nod, still not looking at you. "Thanks."

"It's understandable."

You look down to see the photograph on the table, folded in half. The crease separates Tom and you, making it look like two pictures had been stuck together or something. You frown, fingering the crease, trying to make it seem less like an ocean between the two of you.

"Bill?"

You look up to see Tom standing over you, the Play Station controller in his hand. His face was in an endless smile, proclaiming that he just won. Your eyes flicker to Georg to see him pouting dramatically in the seat behind yours. You snort a laugh at his expression and Tom coming to challenge you.

"I've beaten him, your turn!"

You laugh at his childish statement, but shake your head. "Nein. You and Gustav. You know I can't play Halo."

"But that's the point!" he whines, his shoulders hunching as he plops back down onto the black leather couch.

"Well, that makes it fun," you retort, rolling your eyes as he starts a new battle with Georg.

You watch them battle. Georg seems to have gotten better at it since the last time you watched them play. He punched the weapon button, trying to damage Tom's player faster, before his own health ran out...

That night, you crawled into your bed early, wanting to just lay and think without the commotion of life to disturb you.

Walking down the street in a broken down city, Bill seemed to blur in and out. His face flickered, briefly showing the desolate road behind him before returning to a pale, broken face. Bill generically moved toward a house at the end of the gray town. There, a place where the sun shined and the flowers grew aplenty, was the only place he wanted to be. There, his mom and twin brother would be waiting with smiled and the happiness that the fake gray world around him didn't hold.

His clothes, lank and mere scraps and remains of what used to be a red shirt and blue jeans, have turned into gray elephant skin that barley protected him from the weather. The shoes that once kept his feet safe from outside harm, were so worn down from the journey that the souls had multiple holes.

Bill's legs, heavy with exertion, wanted to refuse to carry the boy any farther, but with the goal so close to being in sight, why give up now? So, with the clouds moving above him, and the sticky heat surrounding his tired body, he pushed forth. The road on which he traveled rose to a hill. Shops and Cafe's repeated, the costumers mingling inside, though unmoving, always the same.

The hill came sooner than anticipated, but Bill took it head on, ignoring the pain in the beginning. Every step seemed to become only a faction of an inch in getting over the hill. Not even half way up, Bill collapsed. The gravel stung his palms. His jeans ripped open and he cried out as blood soaked the pavement. His body, worn out and weak, collapsed against the hot pavement. He was so exhausted that he didn't even fathom he would be able to stand, or walk, again. His journey, long and hard, had finally broken him down to the most vulnerable state of emotion.

A loud sob shook his frame melting into the black asphalt. "God!" he cried out. "Why? Just let me get to happiness, please!" His breathing labored, he let tears pour down his cheeks, evaporating once then hit the ground beneath him.

And anger filled him up. He got sick of defeat and the hard times he'd been through and resisted. He pushed himself up on wobbly limbs, sobbing silently with every tear of his skin as he crawled on all fours up the hill. Bill was determined to get over this obstacle and get out of this drab city, to home where life could once be replenished.

Bill was able to get to the top, after struggling with the gravel embedding themselves into the broken skin on his knees and palms. He brushed that pain aside and fumbled to his feet, trying to gain energy to make it the little way left down a small slope. With a good measure of effort, he lifted his foot and took a shaky step foreword, and another and another and another and another. Soon, he was at the bottom looking at his home. Tom and Simone stood on the porch, smiling at him, beckoning him foreword. He moved steadily and took in the green grass and flowers of of lawn, smiling himself at finally making it. His hands, still stinging from the journey, move back and forth and he picked up speed and sprinted to his family, a bright smile on his face as he engulfed them in a hug, not ever wanted to let go and leave this place.

You woke up, your eyes snapping open to the dark ceiling of a hotel room. Reality seemed to be in the far distance as your body adjusted to waking life, but it soon crashed down upon you. Light snoring came from next to you and your eyebrows burrowed in confusion. You didn't remember sharing a room with any of the other members.

Turning your head to the sleeping figure, a smile graces your lips upon seeing who it is. He sleeps peacefully, laying on his side facing you. His dreads aren't up in their usual style, but are splayed out on the pillow and his shoulders. As your eyes adjust to the moonlight pouring in through the window, you see him better and a smile graces your lips again at his innocent sleeping form. You think over the dream, trying to recall the details so when he wakes up you're able to tell him. You're stumped though, as you can't remember if you made it to the house or not, or even if Mom and Tom were at the end of the road waiting with smiles or if they were crying because you collapsed from dehydration.

Rolling over, your face is splashed with a red hue from the alarm clock shining through the darkness, telling you that it's only three. You heave a sigh dramatically and want to fall back asleep, but a restless feeling envelopes you, not letting you peacefully return to a slumber like that. Angry at yourself for this, you throw the covers off and crawl out of bed. You almost regret the violent action as Tom sighs in his sleep and moves slightly, his hand now underneath his neck. You let out the breath you didn't know you have been holding and tiptoe to the bathroom in hopes of a place where you won't wake the sleeping with your loud thoughts.

On your way past the desk, you grab up a book you had just started and tucked it under your arm, hoping to get much father than the first three chapters. Slowly pushing open the heavy wooden door, you step inside and flip the switch. The florescent lights flicker on, your pupils shrinking painfully at the sudden bright light. The door quietly swings closed and you make sure it's latched so less light can enter the other room.

Looking around the white bathroom, you try to find a comfortable spot to read. You mentally laugh at yourself at even thinking this would be possible.

You're in a bathroom, idiot. you think idly, as you sink into the corner created by the bathtub. Did you honestly think there'd be a comfortable reading spot?

Bringing your knee's up to your chest as you shrink into a small ball, you open the book and prop it up on your knees. Reading the story that captured you when you picked it up at some bookstore weeks ago, you quickly fall into that frame of mind, almost becoming the character yourself.

The book in question, who's name remains unknown due to the lack of an informative cover, was thicker than the standard book on the shelf, but not so thick you couldn't comfortably carry it around. The cover, damaged with wear and use, was a dark burgundy, plain except for small black writing on the spine that defined the author as a R.F. Schwartz. The story line consisted of a teenage boy, Xavier, similar to your age, fell into a deep depression in his teens. He found everything in life morbid and nothing seemed to shine any light into his life. His brother Jack was concerned, but they weren't as close as they were before high school. They went their separate ways, with friends and with interests, so Xavier turned to keeping everything inside, feeling like he couldn't trust anyone because everyone around him who did got hurt in the end. Xavier's life changed when he entered his sophomore year, though. He met this girl, someone who was a lot like him, but was able to bring the smallest of smiles to his face when she spoke.

You weren't sure what would happen with this girl, still unnamed, but you had a feeling deep down that maybe, just maybe, Xavier would be able to realize how much effect he had on people and get better by letting people in and sharing his emotions with those around him.

You read seven chapters, getting so caught up in the story that you don't realize your eyes drooping closed and your head falling onto the edge of the bathtub. Your chest rose and fell slowly in a steady rhythm. The book slips from your loosening fingers, sliding down your legs and tumbling onto the tile flooring. The pages, yellow and weak with use, folded in on each other when it landed. You were too tired and already fast asleep to even notice.

The florescent lights illuminate your slumbering form. You dream peacefully, enjoying the quiet comfort of this dreamy state. A few hours later, a groggy Tom wakes to take a piss. He sleepily stumbles into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes in confusion. He glances around the room, wondering why the light was on. He sighs upon seeing you in a ball against the bath. Tom's eyebrows furrowed when he spotted the book at your feet. He moves closer, snatching the book off the floor and fixing the pages so it'd close properly and slid it onto the counter near the sink.

Tom leans down and gently shakes his brother, attempting to wake you. "Bill," he gently and raspy coaxes. "Hey, come on. Wake up, bro..."

You reluctantly leave your dream and enter reality with a frustrated sigh. You slowly raise your head off the white porcelain, your neck stiffening painfully. You bring your hand to your neck, rubbing gently at the sore muscles. Your eyes adjust and you move into a better position, finding Tom hovering over you with a sympathetic smile.

"You fell asleep in here?" he asks, helping you up and following you out of the bathroom.

"On accident," you respond, crawling back into the bed, trying not to move your neck much. You cuddle into the covers, loving their warmth.

Tom wasn't sure how to respond. He leaves you to relieve himself quickly. When he returns, deep breathing signaled that you were sleeping on your half of the bed. Tom uneventfully slid into the other half, closing his eyes and silently contemplating his baby brother.

You woke what feels like an hour later and notice your bad mood already. Today, you think, is going to be a long, annoying and difficult day. Getting out of bed, you move slowly, with anger burning through your veins, to the bathroom, looking for a long and, hopefully, relaxing bath. Closing the door as quietly as you could, you flip on the light a pad over to the tub. You draw the water, making sure it's the perfect temperature before letting it fill. Although this process takes only a few seconds, you feel like it takes you an hour with your stiff muscles and slow grasp on reality. You begin to undress, feeling your anger bubble inside. You didn't know what made you so frustrated, but your emotions seemed to take ahold of this and have a field day.

More unexplained anger fills yourself at the plop of you pajama's on the tiling floor. You shake with the overwhelming emotion, your body unsure on how to react to something so strong and unexplainable. The bath, now fully drawn, looks extremely inviting. You turn the knobs, stopping the water flow and easily sunk into the water.

A gasp emits from your lips at the scolding waters, but as your skin prickles angrily, you feel sudden relief. Leaning back, you let the water wave over your chest, turning the pale skin a pink at the harshness. Your chest tightens, and your breathing seems more laborious. The feeling soon melted into comfort as your body adjusts and your fell into a comfort level that could never have been attained in the mood you were in.

Your eyes close in defeat and a low sigh escapes. Your head rests on the back of the tub, the water lapping at your earlobes as you move ever so slightly. Sinking lower, just enough to completely submerge your ears, you let the water fill your head with a deafening silence, letting your thoughts float into the water, surrounding you and creating a warm and peaceful haven for you. Nothing seems to pass through your mind. You were in a complete relaxation state and you feel the best you have in a while.

Your fingers move in the water, stretching and contracting until they crack and the sudden sound reverberates to your ears, seeming louder and much more painful. You take in a deep breath, held it until you counted to thirty-five, and slowly let it out, enjoying that feeling of complete emptiness afterwords.

Suddenly you sat up, the water rippling around you at the sudden movement. Bringing your hand up, you ran your finger tips over your face, feeling the water drip off your fingers and running down your cheeks, dripping off your jaw line and back into the bath water. You stare blankly at the spout, thinking about nothing and everything all at the same time.

Later that day, after a few of sitting on you own in the hotel room, Tom finally awoke and was ready to have breakfast with the G's. Sighing at his timing, you exit out of the web page you'd been viewing and shut the top, getting up and grabbing your bag and jacket. Although the four of you were only going to the restaurant downstairs, you felt it necessary to bring such items.

Tom walks beside you down the hall to the elevators. You pull your jacket on on the way. You push the button, and wait impatiently with Tom for the elevator to arrive. More restless anger bubbled inside of yourself at the wait, and Tom throws you a puzzled look. Once the elevator dings, you both step in. Upon entering, Tom presses the lobby button and smashes the close doors button until they did so.

Tom turns to you and furrowed his eyebrows. "Why are you so pissed?" he questions.

You shrug, playing with your tongue piercing discreetly as Tom examines you. He huffs and looks away from you, giving up in trying to figure your mood out. Oh how you wished to go back to the days when emotions weren't so difficult to read.