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A/n: This is a mild edition. I just changed the format back to my usual one as I didn’t feel like messing with quotation marks later on. I also separated the chapters into two so the updating would be easier and, hopefully, more frequent. Otherwise, the rest remains unchanged. I still think it’s a tad wordy but I’m too unfocused to try to straighten it out.
Chapter one : As The Night Seemed To Die.
-Damien Rice: Cannonball.
It isn’t that awful living here but I sometimes get the itch to jump into my car and get the fuck away. I don’t know where, I don’t know for how long, just out of this town and away from its inhabitants.
My designed tutor and half-brother, Ray, is a cool guy though. He and his girlfriend Rosa keep a café on the first floor of the building our apartment is in. It’s a rather popular place among kids my age, if only for the fact they can smoke inside without any old asses complaining or some similar shit. I often work there for pocket drug money, which means about everyone in school knows who I am. I rather dislike the attention but I certainly don’t mind not being “the new boy from The Edge” anymore.
I’m pretty comfortable being here but it’s just fucking tough coping without the person I love the most in the world: my twin sister. I miss her so bad, it hurts. It’s been two weeks I haven’t seen November and trust me, we’ve never ever been separated for longer than that. She’s staying with our mother, at only an hour’s drive away but we don’t actually have the right to see each other anymore.
Let me explain and you’ll maybe understand the angst I’m thriving on.
Our parents divorced when we were eight. It was messy, bitchy, the worst type of divorce: where the ex-couple can’t get off each other’s case and use their children as exchange pieces for their fucked up compromises. After winning the trial against my mother –charged for adultery- the father became in charge of my sister and I. Why the hell he fought to keep us, I don’t know. Probably just to piss our mother off because I can’t say he dealt with it very well and the house reeked of violent hate.
Last year, the urge to escape became so strong, we finally stopped hesitating. We knew there could be extremely unpleasant consequences but November and I caved in anyway and fled; leaving all that shit with the father behind, along with our concerns and needs. Truth is, we could barely feel anything back then except for an odd will to survive. I’ve been told that survival instinct can’t be beaten out of you, unless you’re dying but I’m not certain that statement is right. It sounds far too ironic to me.
November and I were careful and managed to keep incognito for a while; hardly getting any working prospects, being underage and all. It was hard to find money or places to sleep but we felt free and that new emotion was intoxicating. Starting from the moment we had tasted it, going back to where we came from, seemed like the most insane thing we could’ve ever done and the mere thought of doing so, made us laugh or cry -depending on our moods. Free, we felt fucking immortal.
It took the police four months to find us. The bastard father had sent them on our trail, funny how they never cared about why we ran away. He showed his joy at our return with his belt, fists and God, his steel-toed boots… Being fifteen made us grow up way too fast and being sixteen was far from being sweet. Ever since we had gotten caught and dragged back, I died every fucking day of the week at the mere thought of what we had lost.
The only times it felt okay was when November and I would get high together, which was as often as possible. Name it, we’ve probably done it. It’s easy to find any kind of drugs you could want, anywhere. You just have to know the “right” people and with the whole “living in the streets” shit, we got to meet some strange individuals. Although, the “right” people can be fucking wrong at times and you’d be better off if you just didn’t know them at all.
One night, the father wasn’t as prudent as usual and we got abused in a way that seemed to suddenly alert our surroundings. A hallelujah of sorts that made them feel concerned for some reason. A prolonged absence, simultaneous bruises in weird places and black eyes triggered mind-changing revelations, apparently. Like hyenas pouncing on their preys, they called the social services and the father was imprisoned. We got shipped off to our mother, whom we hadn’t seen since their divorce.
It was weird. We didn’t feel safer there: it was like we were expecting ghosts from the past to concretise in front of us. We still did a lot of drugs and things weren’t getting any better, even though they should’ve. Something was coming up and eventually, I thought I had figured out what was the deal. After angsting over it for a while, I finally confessed to November that I was in love with her, despite her being my twin and how abnormal it was.
She didn’t say anything, merely stared at me. If she was shocked, she did a good job at hiding it. I had been torturing myself with guilty incestuous thoughts and distancing myself from her, which was hurting us both. November had demanded the truth and I had given it to her, finding it easier than I had thought given she has always understood me, never judged. The words had sort of poured out of my mouth and for a split second, I had regretted it before relief flooded in to drown my senses. God, I felt so sick to love my own sister, I could’ve puked; if it hadn’t felt right to tell her. I always tell November everything but some secrets are harder to fess up.
She had quietly stared out the window, leaving me to wonder if she had even heard what I had just said. I wanted to shake her, in dire need of a response. I had expected disgust, anger, fear… love? Any reaction -even if it’d hurt me like hell- other than that unnerving silence.
That’s when she told me something I’ll never forget. “I’m in love with you too but not like that, River. I’m just the girl you can’t have and you convinced yourself it was a sexual sort of love to have an excuse for not looking elsewhere. But that’s just because you’re attracted to boys and too afraid to admit it, even to yourself.”
It felt like a smack in my face. That happened eight months ago but the memory is still fresh in my mind, for the simple reason November hit the nail on the fucking head. I realise the being “in love” thing isn’t disgusting -depending on your perception of what love really is anyway- and yes, I like boys. I’m not exactly looking for a boyfriend though. I guess I have to get rid of the guilt and painful thoughts about my past before attempting anything with anyone, no matter their gender.
The thing is, I kept getting this nagging doubt for several weeks post-confessing and I ended up kissing November one very drugged day. No, I didn’t get hard or anything and I’ll never do it again but our mother just had to choose that moment to walk in on us. I’m not going through the trouble to relive that scene right now but that’s why I got sent to Ray’s and am forbidden to see my twin. I can’t say I never disobeyed that order and November willingly submits herself to our mother’s Big Brother act, just to avoid raising even more suspicions.
I mean, it’s such fucking completion when we see each other; I couldn’t keep away even if I wanted to. November’s presence is so soothing: she never raises her voice even when she gets angry and she’s always had this crazy relaxing effect on me. I can’t count the times we’ve spent the afternoon together and I wasted hours away by falling asleep. Fortunately, we’re reaching our majority on our next birthday so we’ll soon be free to do whatever the hell we please.
At least, this dull Friday afternoon shift will be over in less than an hour. With what I’ve earned today, I can go buy myself several grams of weed, unless I get my hands on something tastier. Mac and Liam will surely show up and we’ll then hit the park to get high, as per usual. Eh, we don’t exactly live in the most exciting place ever, there’s not much else we could do.
- Hey, dreamboy! a voice suddenly snaps me out of my thoughts. Where’s my goddamn drink?
I look up to find Arthur standing in front of me, his annoying trademark smirk in place. I don’t think I can possibly explain how enthralled I am at seeing him.
- I asked for a beer ten minutes ago, the git continues bitching. How long am I going to have to wait?
Taking a glass, I swiftly fill it at the pump and hand it over, not so gently. He tsks under his breath, wiping his wet shirt with his hand as I return to my –maybe repetitious but- far more important thoughts than him.
- God, River. Learn how to serve a drink.
- If you’re not happy, you can go get drunk elsewhere, I snap back.
- Aw, aren’t we getting touchy here?
- Yeah, like your girlfriend of the day with one of your mates over there.” I comment, nodding towards his little posse.
Arthur whips around, narrowing his eyes at the flirting girl. I guess my remark was pretty low but I couldn’t help poking at his pride a bit. He always gets high and mighty around me but seriously, he’s just an idiot who has a knack for hiding his emotions. Most think he’s hot stuff, cool and collected but that’s barely the truth. He seems like that, yeah but he’s far from being it.
My knowledge comes from the fact I once saw him cry. I was immediately sworn to secrecy, like I have nothing better to do than spread gossip on Arthur’s boohoo tears but that’s how egocentric he is, for you. We kind of got along for a week after the incident before the constant bickering took over again. Not that I mind, I still don’t like Arthur, even if I’m one of the few who has ever seen the human side of him –probably the reason why he dislikes me so much in return.
- Don’t be jealous, sweetie. You’re the only one I love, he silkily tells me, after shrugging at the couple in sudden nonchalance.
I glare at him and retort with a nasty:
- Touch me and die, fucker.
Which makes him snicker, the bastard. So much for threatening him.
- You’re so cute when you’re angry, he coos.
I twitch at his remark and –accidentally, I swear- knock his glass all over him. Saying I didn’t laugh would be a lie though.
- Sorry, I offer, not really meaning it.
Arthur cusses at me (You did it on fucking purpose, you self-congratulating asshole!) as I watch, amused. If he wants help, he’s going to have to ask. I doubt he’d ask me though. Just an intuition.
Now, you’d think he’d have the sense to leave me alone, given we both irk the shit out of each other but no. Arthur never seems to get the hint to fuck off or maybe, it’s just because he’s the kind of guy who gets a thrill whenever he manages to piss off at least ten persons per day. I swear, it’s like he’s set himself a personal daily challenge and feels depressed when he doesn’t fulfil it. I can assure you he does, although the same amount of persons falls in love with him to balance it all out. Weird.
The mere idea of being intimate with him makes me want to retch so I’m not getting this whole “irresistible” thing he supposedly has going on and I don’t even want to know. I have no problem admitting he’s good-looking –what with the amazing blue eyes and wicked body- but he’s, above all, an arrogant asshole and the minute he opens his stupid mouth, any attraction you could’ve remotely felt for him freezes to death. Or at least, that’s what happened to me.
He may be intelligent, witty and sometimes amusing but he’s still a prick. Not only does he generally treat people like shit, he respects nothing and no one while strutting around as if he ruled the world. The sad part is that a lot of people are ecstatic at getting the pathetic honour of hanging out with him. They seem to enjoy lapping up the humiliation. Whatever, right?
- Are you seeing Mac and Liam later?
Damn, I hadn’t seen he was still there. I had kind of hoped he’d stalked off to harass someone else when the swearing had stopped.
- Yeah, why? I reply, a bit defensively.
I fucking hope he’s not going to impose his presence, today of all days. Arthur shrugs, that goddamn smirk on his face again.
- They’re my friends too.” he points out, like I needed the reminder.
With the luck I have, my two best guy friends are the only persons he seems to honestly appreciate. They all grew up together, which apparently created bonds or maybe it’s due to being part of the few openly bi or gay boys around, I don’t know. Either way, I end up spending way more time with Arthur than I’d want to, thanks to that. I refuse to complain, though; I don’t want to act like some sort of Nazi dictator, Mac and Liam can see who they want after all. But still, I’d rather not.
- Speaking of the happy couple… Arthur trails off, his eyes on the door as Liam pushes it open. Mac stumbles in after his boyfriend, nudging him playfully as they laugh at some inside joke between them. Arthur vaguely waves them over and after throwing out random hello’s to acquaintances, they head over to the counter.
Although mismatched in appearance, they’re seriously perfect for each other. Liam is tall, blonde, with imperturbable green eyes. He wears glasses and looks the part of the bookworm he actually is, even if he likes having fun as much as any of us. Given he’s a year older than Mac and I, he started college this year but still uses all his spare time to hang out, like he always has. He’s the calm one, the peacemaker. I may be quiet but I can get pretty violent reactions when I’m angry. I’m certainly not as serene as Liam is.
On the other hand, Mac is this petite punk boy with hair that changes colour every month or so and pure grey eyes. He bluntly says whatever crosses his mind, whether you like it or not and can abruptly explode in anger if you irritate him or, simply, if he’s in one of his charming days. Liam helped him out of a bad impasse before they started dating so Mac now relies a lot on his boyfriend, stopped the cutting, dropped the questionable frequentations and went back to school. It’s almost disturbing to see how those two love each other but, as you can easily conclude, they balance out brilliantly and one is rarely seen without the other.
- Coffee! Mac greets me as he comically sprawls over the counter to tug at the front of my shirt. Please! I’m gonna die otherwise, Riv!
I shoot him a small smile before obeying to his command. Knowing how the boy can get delusional without his caffeine, I’m always partial to making him as many free cups as he wants. Given I’ve managed to stay alive until now, I think it’d be pretty dumb to have a “tragic accident” just because I didn’t feed him his drug; thank you very much.
Liam affectionately grins at his –still dramatically acting- boyfriend and winks hello to me. Him and Arthur start talking about something or another while I finish pouring the coffee. The minute the cup hits the counter, Mac pounces on it and sighs in contentment after the first sip.
- Hot but good. Yum. Best one on the planet, he murmurs.
He’s blissfully smiling at me as if I were God walking on earth, for the unique purpose of satisfying his needs. I get that look every time I make him coffee though so it’s not like my head swelled up in a huge ego-boost.
I was about to respond but my cellphone went off at that moment and -with a surely huge grin on my face- pick up, instinctively knowing who it’ll be.
- Heya, lovely.
I glare at the others so they’d resume their conversation, instead of eavesdropping. They’ve all briefly met November but don’t know much about her otherwise and I guess they feel curious. I haven’t had the guts to tell them yet why we don’t live in the same place anymore. Somehow, I don’t feel like it’s the right time to talk about it. But then, it’s never the moment to say “Hey, I once thought I’d like fucking my own twin and now, my mother hates me.”
- How are you doing, dear? November’s soft voice asks.
- Peachy, now you’ve called, I laugh, not caring if I sound cheesy.
I can feel her smirk on the other end of the line.
- Just answer the damn question.
- I’m doing as always, I sigh in response as I drop the pretence. Nightmares, flashbacks and shit. I’m still pissed off we won’t get to see each other this weekend but there’s nothing we can really do about that, can we.
It was more of a statement than anything.
- Mmh… I miss you too.
I can still hear the smile in her voice and hope this means “good news”.
- Okay, Ember. Tell me what’s going on.
- I’m driving over to see you on Sunday. Kael and I have planned it out, she immediately answers. Mom won’t notice as we usually spend the day together and she’ll be off on a mini-trip to the mall with her friends anyway.
- Brilliant! I explode in joy, earning three interrogative stares I pretend I didn’t noticed.
Wanting some privacy, I turn my back to them and repeat:
- Fucking brilliant! I didn’t know Kael had a car.
- He doesn’t, we’re just borrowing one, she replies, obviously amused.
- With permission?
- Not really. But the car’s there and no one will be around to rat on us so...
November pauses a second to respond to someone manifestly talking behind her, before continuing:
- So Kael won’t get in trouble for using his roommate’s car.
Kael’s her best friend from over there. He’s a quiet boy, seemingly insecure although very easy on the eyes if you happen to notice him, whenever he isn’t lurking in the shadows. He’s English with an attractive hint of an accent. I’m not sure if they’re an item or not, November says they aren’t but they seem like one to me. The only strange thing is that I’ve never seen them touch each other. And when I say never, I mean it. They’re rarely at less than a foot of distance and I have a feeling it’s constantly that way, even when they’re on their own.
- Isn’t Kael our age? I suddenly wonder.
It’d mean he normally doesn’t have his license…
- Don’t worry about that, November lightly laughs.
- Shouldn’t I? I retort.
- Only if I tell you to and you don’t need to in this case.
- Sweet. Now, tell me how your day was, I grin into the receiver, happy and impatient at the idea of seeing her soon.