Notes: A strange piece, but I am somewhat satisfied with it. It suits my mood.

Alienated: You Were Lonely, Weren't You?

"You're brooding again, aren't you?"

Your voice drawls, matching the lazy expression on your face that is so typical of you. I glance at you from the corner of my eye. There is no need for me to confirm that I am brooding since you already know my mind too well, so I don't say a word. You shift on the grass next to me, resting your arms on top of your bent knees. My eyes return to the sky, and neither of us speak while the funnily shaped clouds pass by our heads.

"One day I'm going to build a plane and travel the sky."

I close my eyes and lay motionless, imagining that I am in a sea of clouds. You shift again, more restlessly this time, probably thinking that I am ignoring you again, which I'm not. It's just hard to know how I am supposed to reply to that. Those things are the kind of things you always say, and I never understand them. Neither does anyone else. But that's okay. The world doesn't have to understand you in order for you to function. You don't need the world. Just yourself.

Sometimes I think it makes you an alien to the rest of us. Someone otherworldly that landed here in his UFO, but somehow managed to loose it and got stuck. An alien stranded on a strange planet, where you become the strange one to us.

Your sloppily put your arm over my chest, and I can feel your head next to my neck. When you exhale onto my skin it leaves me shuddering. Uncertain. But I don't push you away. Not that you would keep away just because I told you. Private space is nothing to you, especially not my private space. It never has been. So I lay there, feeling the weight of your arm on my chest when it rises and sinks.

"Do you wanna come with me, Abel?"

You murmur the question with your lips ghosting over my skin without really touching it. It doesn't matter, I tell myself.

"Maybe."

The chuckle is a deep sound in your throat that sounds more like a growl, but I can tell the difference after so many years of knowing you. Although, sometimes I wonder if I really know you at all. The things you say and do, I can never predict them or understand your reason for doing them. I can only read you as well as I can read any stranger that crosses my path.

You, on the other hand, seem to know everything about me. My thoughts, my movements, my decisions. They are all familiar to you even when I don't tell you a thing. You make me feel like an open book where every page has been written, with stains of ink all over. Stains that could very well be the stains on my soul.

"I think you do."

You remove your arm, and with eyes closed I can feel you sitting up next to me. Your hand is on my cheeks, the touch firm and familiar, but not comforting. It creates a distance between us, even when you are this close. My heart freezes inside my chest when your lips touch mine in a brief kiss. My eyes open, but you are already withdrawing, standing up and brushing imaginary dirt off your clothes.

"It's gonna rain."

You look at the sky while saying it. The frown on your face tells me that you are displeased. Whether it's because it might rain, or something else I can't tell. But I take your hand when you offer it to me and let you hoist me off the ground.

"Come on, let's go home, Abel."

My hand in your feels small, like a child's, and you lead me home like you would lead a lost puppy.

Alienated.

-

Her voice is hard with anger, and when she looks at me the anger has absorbed everything in her eyes and turned them into black stones. Black stones that could swallow me whole and leave nothing behind. I don't dare break the eye contact from fear that she might cause me pain.

"Why do you let yourself be bullied? You need to toughen up, Abel, otherwise it will never stop!"

Her shoulders slump a little, as if she has given up on me. The anger slips away from her, and when she approaches me her movements are slow, weary. I flinch when she takes my chin in her hand and pushes it up a little. The bruise on my swollen cheek hurts, and it doesn't make it any better when her fingertips brush against the sore skin. I yank my head away and cast my eyes to the floor.

"Fine, be that way. But don't come home crying next time, I don't want to see it."

Sharp, strict words spoken by the woman that gave birth to me. The one who raised me. The one I will always be part of.

I leave the kitchen. The argument is over for this time, but there will always be a next. I was lucky to get away so quickly, without more bruises to add to the collection. The stairs creak under my feet when I climb them and go to my room. The lights stay off. I don't want to see my own reflection in the mirror that covers half of my wall. The mattress gives in a little when I lay down on my stomach and bury my face in the pillow.

My limbs feel heavy. I don't want to go anywhere. But I don't want to stay here either.

My hands reaches out and closes around the mobile on the bedside table, making uncomfortable, green light hit my eyes when I push the menu button. I roll onto my back and stare at the device in my hand. Will you think it is weird of me to call you? I am itching to hear your voice. To know that you haven't changed. I put the mobile under my pillow, thinking it better to not call you. We are friends, but we never talk over the phone. You might not even pick up since you hate mobiles and usually leave your own at home when you goes out.

The tick-tock's from my alarm clock invade my head and the silence of the room is disrupted. Not even when I cover my ears with my hands can I entirely shut the sound out. I'm itching. The mobile is back in my hand before I can stop it, pushing the digits that are your number.

I inhale deeply and hold my breath as I listen to the long beeping sounds and wait.

Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

My breath hitches when my call is answered, and I nearly hang up from fright. Your voice fill my ear and makes my chest tighten.

"Hello? Anyone there? Helloooo?"

I can't speak a word.

"Abel...?"

There is hesitation in your voice, mixed with surprise.

"You want me to come over, don't you?"

And just like that you know everything on my mind. All the things I can't voice or give names to. I nod, even while knowing that you can't see it. Your little smile reaches all the way to my end.

"Alright, I'll be over in a few. Just stay in your room."

Then you hang up on me, and I let my arm fall limply to the bed, still clutching the mobile in a tight grip that makes my fingers hurt. I exhale slowly and relax my fingers. The darkness in my room makes me feel smaller, less visible. Almost at ease. I close my eyes and imagine myself in a sea of clouds again, pretending that the wind is throwing my hair about and making me smile. A pleasant daydream.

My ever muscle tenses up when there is a knock on my window and I see you outside, urging me to let you inside. I open the window, and you crawl in through it, messing up my bed with your wet and dirty shoes. My mouth stays shut, but I know my mother will fret over it. The dark hides the details of your face, but I know what there is to know. You kick off your shoes and run a hand through the dark hair that covers your forehead. I can just barely make out the smile on your face.

"You were feeling lonely, am I right?"

I nod slowly and watch you lean over my lap to turn on the little lamp next to my bed. After staying in the dark for some time the lights stings my eyes and makes me uncomfortable. When you sit back and look at me properly a frown makes your brows draw down and together. You are staring at the bruise on my cheek, I realise and quickly cover it up with a hand.

"I'm going to beat up those ass holes tomorrow."

Quiet words that hold so much icy cold threat.

Your skin is cold against my own when you take my hand and remove it from my face to inspect the damage more closely. The feeling of your sharp eyes on me is unnerving, and I can't bare to meet your eyes when you try to make me.

"Abel, did you know that broken wings heal? And when they do, the bird can fly again."

Another meaningless thing to say that I don't understand, but you seem to think otherwise. Your grip on my wrist becomes firmer, squeezing me until it hurts. I bite my bottom lip not to make any noises and you inch your face closer to mine. My wrist is free again when you let go, but the hand takes my chin instead and forces me to meet those eyes that can see through my very being. It scares me. You scare me.

And I wonder if you realise that at all when you push your lips onto mine and use your hand to force me onto my back on the bed. You scare me so badly, but I don't want you to leave. To leave me. The tears I have been holding back all day finally seem to break through, and my eyes are wet as I stare into your closed eyes. Your lips move against mine, but I remain motionless. What should I do?

Your hands make me shiver when they slip underneath my tee shirt and make their way over my stomach to my chest. So cold, it makes me shudder unpleasantly. But I don't stop you. Couldn't stop you even if I tried. The tears linger in my eyes, and begin to roll down my cheeks . My lips part when you nudge them with your tongue, and I press my eyes shut tightly, unable to do anything at all.

Your breathing is uneven when you pull away from me and leave some distance between our faces. I slowly open my eyes again and stare up at you. With a sigh you lie down behind me, wrapping your arms around me in a tight hug that nearly leaves me breathless.

"You will come with me, won't you, Abel? The day I finish my plane?"

Is that fear in your voice?

I nod my head frantically and rest in your arms. You leave two kisses on my neck before burying your face in my shoulder.

"Good. I'll take you away from here. I promise."

An alien.

But it makes no difference whether I understand your words or not.