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A/n : Huge, big thanks to Mass Descent, One Desire, penglass, Gretchen45 and rodeoclown. I’m sorry for not updating in ages again and I hope you’ll enjoy this.
One Desire: I don’t like all The Manic Preachers’ music but I have to admit I’m quite fascinated by Richey Edwards –even if they did good stuff after he left. I’m just a sucker for his writing, I love controversy & his stance was an unusual one, although I could sometimes/often relate. And okay, he’s far from being bad on the eyes, haha. As for the forgotten words, I’d edit if I weren’t so.. lazy.
Chapter three : Again With The Endless Cycles.
-The Weakerthans: Left and Leaving.
River.
- Where the fuck are you, you idiot bastard?
I hold my phone away from my ear and look around me, confused. God, my head is aching. I wish Mac would stop screaming like a woman and let me think for a bit. Shit..
- Are you okay, at least? he inquires, mid-rant.
- I’m fine. Go to bed.
- I don’t care what you fucking took, just tell me where you are so we can come and get you.
- What are you, my goddamn babysitter?
- Yeah, Ray pays me to keep an eye on you, the little prick sarcastically retorts. I want my money but we lost you, see.
- Fuck you, Mac!
- Well, fuck you too! he cries out, exasperated. For the last fucking time, where are you?
- I’m at Patrick’s house, I finally admit.
I don’t know how the hell I landed here. Or, maybe I do. I just don’t want to admit I’m that stupid.
The evening started out fine. We went to the park, as was planned, and got high on the swings. Mac and Liam were busy being cheesy together while Arthur lived up to his dumb bitch act and I tried not to cuss the hell out of him: a typical Friday night. Eventually, we got bored of making fun of each other and this giant wrestling match took place. Arthur groped me and I punched him. I’m pretty positive that’s what made everything go downhill.
I didn’t punch him as hard as the loser would let you believe. It was just a warning to never pull that shit on me again but his stupid nose decided to bleed a little and he panicked like fuck. I don’t know why but blood makes him squeal like a cheerleader. For my part, I’m quite immune to it so it didn’t really faze me and I watched Arthur make a fool out of himself with a peaceful mind. Well, as peaceful as you can get when you’re pissed off, that is.
Mac laughed for ages but Liam did not appreciate. He started ranting in his calm voice about why Arthur and I should stop fighting, make an effort or just stop hanging out and blablabla. I tuned him out after that so I can’t remember what else he said. I was about to reluctantly apologise anyway when Arthur made some smartass remark about my punch being “all flirtatious, I’m sure”. The delusional slut then moved in to make out with me.
Next thing I know, I’m stalking away to find something harder than weed to avoid pounding him to the doors of hell. Not saying it was smart or logical, I just did it. I was high and annoyed, for chrissakes.
I bumped into Patrick on my way to God knows where and he proposed some fun at his place. You’d think I’d decline, given how November and I despise the guy but no. I’m weak and fucked up like that. Patrick goes to college in the city but comes home every weekend, his pockets full of drugs. This was too good an opportunity to pass up so I followed him.
- Why the bloody hell did you go there? Mac exclaims. Nevermind, I don’t have the time to listen. Wait for us, okay? We’ll be around in less than half an hour.
I hang up and permit myself to relax a little. Truth be told, I completely flipped when I started coming down. Colours were swarming to my head, sticking to my eyes and I abruptly realised how tired I was after all the frantic dancing I had done, due to my drugged hyperactivity. I would’ve tried to sleep if I had been in any other place but I settled to numbly smoking a joint. Patrick isn’t the safest bloke to be around and this party could very well turn out into a sick orgy I want no part in –especially passed out.
I’m relieved Mac called but really pissed off at the same time. It may not seem like it but I can fucking take care of myself, thank you very much. The bad thing about having a) run away b) done a lot of drugs and c) had an angsty past, is that once you’re gone for over two hours, the whole town hunts you down. Well, Ray does. By calling everyone and harassing them until I’m found.
I jump when I suddenly feel a hand touching my neck before crawling up to play with my hair.
- That better not have been deliberate, I snarl, turning so I can glare at whoever it is.
- What if it was? Patrick slyly queries.
I don’t say anything, keeping a steady gaze on his face. He isn’t exactly attractive at first glance but he has something about him, which I try to ignore so I can maintain my unaffected mask. With all I took tonight, I’d be extremely lucky if it didn’t cost more than what I have on me and my wages of the month to come. On the other hand, I know he’ll let me go for free if I just shut the hell up and let him feel me up a little. I’m such a fucking whore, although I really can’t arse myself to worry about that right now.
Permitting Patrick to lick my neck, I occupy my hands and mouth with the joint I’m smoking. The same mistakes made again, over and over like a cycle. I start thinking of November and I must’ve spaced out because the hot ash started burning my fingers without even my noticing. Crushing it in an ashtray, I check my watch and realise Mac and Liam must’ve been waiting for a while now.
- I have to go, I mumble to Patrick, shoving him away from me.
I wonder how he managed to unbuckle my belt and slip his hand in there. I mean, where was I during that time? I really fucking hate shutting off the world like that: it makes me vulnerable to everything. Fortunately, Patrick is too wasted to be choosy about who he’ll fuck tonight so I trudge out without having to bear his usual complaints.
Tripping on my own feet, I manage to fall sideways into the elevator and smash my head against the wall. I don’t actually feel the pain but by habit, I still let out some sort of curse.
- Nice going, Riv.
That wasn’t my voice. I yelp in surprise and my foot maybe savagely kicked into the middle of Liam’s stomach. Fine, whatever. The goddamn fucker crept up on me. He knows I’m paranoid.
- Anger management classes, he coolly suggests, still folded in half.
- Right, I retort, punching in the zero button.
I immediately feel like gagging when the elevator starts going down. That dumb gravity.
- You’re high, Liam smartly states.
- Hadn’t noticed.
- That’s cute, except not. What are you doing here, anyway?
- Don’t question my motives.
- That’s because you have none to back up your acts.
- I thought you’d have more ambition than to outwit a stoner, I manage to grumble out.
I hope that sounded right because my concept of sarcasm goes to hell whenever I’m tired. I still try, though. It makes Liam chuckle anyway and he takes my hand to lead me where he parked his mother’s car. Mac is sitting on the hood, smoking a cigarette and making one of his shitty faces.
- You’re a fucking stupid lunatic freak! he screams the minute he sees me.
- Hello to you too, cupcake, I smirk back.
Mac rolls his eyes before pulling me to him so he can stare into mine.
- Coke? he asks.
I shrug, not wanting to get into that because if I talk, I might throw up.
- When was your last line?
- Dunno.. I’m over it.
- Did you do anything else?
- Only weed and maybe alcohol, I truthfully answer.
And maybe some random girl. I hope I refused like I think I did. My memory’s not exactly the best right now and it was a girl.
- Yeah, you can get in the car, Mac grins a bit lopsidedly.
- Ooh, excitement.
This earns me a shove and I topple over, laughing. I couldn’t help myself. Liam driving is enough to scare me into wearing a dress. You’d think someone who suggests anger management classes would be semi-civilised behind the wheel. Well, you’d be wrong. Not only does Liam turn corners like a psychopath without even using the brakes, he’s completely inconsiderate.
- Do you want me to fucking throw up? I groan, clutching my stomach.
- You should’ve thought about it before kicking me. Revenge is sweet.
- It was an accident, I dully declare.
- Dude, Riv’s wasted, Mac snickers. Nice reflexes you’ve got there.
- Shut up, Liam retorts. I’m not exactly sober either.
- And you’re driving? Mac screeches in mock indignation. You imprudent bastard!
Of course, if Liam was really gone, he wouldn’t be driving at all so Mac isn’t that worried. He still throws a feeble punch at his boyfriend and I’d laugh at his lack of strength if I could presently react. They start playfully bickering while I sink into the backseat, trying to block them out. The sound of their voices is making me rather nauseous and I’m not too sure I can hold it in the time we get wherever we’re going. I fumble in my pocket, checking for an odd joint I might’ve rolled when I was bored earlier.
- Don’t piss yourself, Mac. It’s fine. River, you okay behind or did you fall into a coma?
- Fell into a coma.
- That’s what I thought and that’s why we’re going back to my place because I doubt Ray will approve the state you’re currently in, I mean, shit, look at you.
My brain really had trouble with that long sentence but it finally got the gist.
- You’ve seen worse, I blankly say.
Aha! I finally find what I was looking for and light up with a –I suppose- contented sigh.
- We’re in my mom’s car! Liam complains.
He doesn’t have the heart to tell me to crush it though. He knows how coming down can be a bitch for me ever since I stopped getting high with November. She used to comfort me when I crashed badly and the fact she isn’t there anymore makes me panic at odd moments. I sometimes call her when things get too fucked -just hearing her makes me more lucid but it makes me feel clingy so I generally avoid doing it.
- I wasn’t really pissed off, you know, Mac suddenly says, placing a cool hand on my forehead.
- Yeah, we just got worried when Ray called to know if you were sleeping over or not, Liam adds. We thought you had headed back home.
It’s weird to think back on the time when I considered them as barely friends of mine. I didn’t think I could rely on them, let alone trust them and I still feel guilty over it –especially towards Mac. I’m like a constant reminder to him of who he used to be. He and Liam have been through a lot, just cleaning my messes up and I don’t know why they just don’t give up. But they keep doing it and caring for me, even if all I do is get myself into shit. I’m constantly surprised they don’t have a visible halo over their heads.
- Whoa, where am I?
It only took me a slight moment to realise I was in Liam’s room, I swear. To be precise, I’m in his bed and in only my boxers. Whoever stripped me down did it well, I didn’t even wake –oh. Fuck. “Whoever” must have seen what I normally hide and must be pretty mad if it’s whom I think it was. With a feeling of impending doom, I stay silent for a minute to hear if anyone is coming before gingerly peeling the bandages away from my arms. I feel like shit.
There might only be a candle lighting the room, the scars and gooey wounds are glaring back at me in all their displayed glory. I had said I’d stopped and it was true for three weeks, until yesterday. When November told me she couldn’t come, I didn’t know what else to do, I couldn’t feel anything other than ashamed of how I was the one to ruin it again. I mean, I can lie to myself and say it’s my mother’s fault we don’t see each other but I know it’s mine. Just because I couldn’t admit I’m a fucking faggot.
But then, figuring out my sexuality wasn’t as easy as I make it out as and I’m still not sure I’ve completely accepted it. There’s still a small part of me convinced I’m a sick freak and indeed in lust with my twin. That makes me want to punish myself and not go see November. I’m just so confused, damnit and.. Gah, my head is pounding. Remembering last night is sending waves of nausea through me and my mouth’s like how a dried prune must feel.
I weakly roll out of bed and collapse the minute I try to stand. Man, I’ve got style. Too lazy to get up, I just stay there, resting my burning cheek on the floor and start wondering what my priority is right now. Let’s see: shower, cigarette, aspirin, food, joint or brushing my teeth. Definitely, shower. And ew, definitely the teeth. When you start smelling yourself without even moving, it’s got to be bad. I pick myself off the ground, still feeling weird but that’s nothing a shower can’t take care of, neh?
Taking some clothes I left once at Liam’s, I head to the bathroom. It must be around ten in the morning; I don’t know how the hell I managed to sleep five hours straight but I’m glad about it. It’s been a while since I’ve caught that much rest. I absently pick at my scabs as I stand under the shower, trying to clean my thoughts as well as my body. Falling into meditation –or, you know, asleep- I let the water pour on me until I can’t bear the heat anymore and step out. I hastily rub at the remains of my eyeliner, waterproof indeed, before quickly dressing and heading out to look for the others.
Liam lives in a sort of boarding house for college students, mainly because his mother is its tenant. I guess that with the scholarship he got, he could’ve easily rented a room at university but he didn’t want to. When asked why, he said he liked small cities so he doesn’t feel deprived of an active capital life but we all know he’s mostly there to watch out for us. We’re lucky Liam stayed and even I acknowledge that, despite my often acting like an asshole to him. I’m pathetically ungrateful like that.
When I enter the kitchen, all I can see are two tousled heads quizzically looking down at a pan. I lean against the doorway and watch, amused by their half-awake, half-idiotic expression. Something comes spitting out of what they’re looking at and Mac jumps about a mile.
- It burned me! he angrily comments, shoving his hand to his boyfriend’s face.
- Don’t worry, Liam lazily drawls. I’m going to kiss it alright.
- Oh yeah, that’ll make it all better, Mac rolls his eyes before spotting me. Hey, finally stopped snoring, princess? Thought it was the case when the house quit shaking.
Ignoring his witty ass, I inch my away over to where they’re standing and get a glimpse of what they’re staring at. I don’t know what the fuck it’s supposed to be but that can’t be edible.
- What’s that? I ask, completely grossed out.
The thing stinks and last night’s sickness is slowly starting to creep back into my stomach again.
- A pancake, Mac casually states. Li made the mix but I’m starting to think the milk wasn’t too good anymore. This reeks.
- Indeed, Liam nods, looking pleadingly my way.
- Fine, I sigh. I’ll make some, just throw that shit away.
Even if November and I obviously have trippy Anglo-Saxon names -thanks to our artist mother- the father is French so we’ve got this cultural background thing going on that makes us wicked at making crêpes. Or Liam just sucks, which is also the case.
- Is that River’s rotting corpse I smell? Arthur queries, walking in through the backdoor. I knew he’d end up murdered after all that freaky sex he has.
Given I’m busy stirring flour in with the rest of the mix, I don’t turn around but content myself with firing a handful in his direction. Okay, so it was wet, drenched in milk and pretty sticky. Serves him right for being such a smartass. I think I scored a hundred points, considering where it landed.
- Fucking arse, Arthur scowls, trying to get the goo out of his hair.
- Good aim you’ve got there, man, Mac loudly applauds. I’m impressed.
- He’s got practice, what with all the dark rooms he’s been in.
- Look who’s talking, I snort in disbelief.
- Don’t be such a hypocrite. You’re as much as a slut as I am.
- Wish you could back that up, don’t you?
- Your bed or mine, pretty boy?
- Fuck off, I’m a minor, I retort.
- Paedophile, Liam tells Arthur.
- Don’t flatter him, he replies. I wouldn’t go out of my way for River’s ass.
Somehow, that statement makes me feel good about myself.
- I would, Mac snickers from behind his coffee cup.
I wink flirtatiously at him, which makes Liam laugh. For some odd reason, it doesn’t bother him that Mac openly admitted he was attracted to me. I guess their mutual trust is beyond that, you know? We never really went farther than random making out sessions though and that’s fine by me.
The happy couple seems to be in a good mood and makes no comments about my arms, for which I’m grateful but it also confuses me. The few times it’s happened, they blew me off the next day. I suppose it wasn’t as bad as I thought after all. Arthur annoyingly pokes me until I jab a spatula in his ribs and he finally sits down at the counter. I expertly flip the pancakes in silence until there’s a whole pile of them, the other three chatting behind.
- What are you guys doing today? Arthur nonchalantly asks.
- Nothing special, Mac shrugs, tugging at his bleached-white locks. I was thinking I might dye my hair blue again though.
I tune out the conversation, feeling out of it and really strange. I frown, hoping it has nothing to do with November. Unless it concerns her, I never trust my intuition: it’s seriously fucked up. But I always seem to know when she isn’t doing well.
Abruptly walking out of the room, I jog upstairs to find my cellphone and quickly dial her number. It only rings once before she picks up. Her voice is wavering but November quickly coughs to stabilise it, like she’d fucking fool me. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out she’s feeling like shit.
- Tell me, I demand without even saying hello.
- Tell me, she counterattacks.
Damn.
