14Hey sweetheart,
We have been looking at you for a few years now, and while you are an extremely attractive figment of the male population (mmmmm), we are solid (oh boy are we ever! Maybe you should put a shirt on Mr. Kinney!) in our decision to temporarily place you in suspension from our organization. We hope you understand, and when the time is right for you darling, you can thrust your way back into the club with full, passionate, hair pulling, teeth clenching (oh make me stop!) vigor. There is always a place for you here, but maybe you should sort a few things out for yourself, ok, honey?
The Out, Proud, and Flamboyantly Loving It Squad.
PS: Although you opposed to those of us with a more flamboyant nature, you will be greatly missed by the 'Out and Proud' section of the squad.
PPS: Please put a shirt on like previously asked.
PPPS: LOVING your hair right now!
He felt his body shake. Not the type of shaking that makes your body convulse, or the type of shaking your body endures when cold, but the type of shaking that you feel branching out from the centre of your bones. The type that is achieved from caffeine, lack of sleep and above all: grief. The type that is unstoppable.
Brian's eyes scanned his empty loft, which had more recently become his sanctuary. The muffled sounds of passing cars, along with the amplified ticking of his clock plagued his ears and started to seep into his brain, filling him with a deep sense of uneasiness. He stood up from the kitchen table at which he had been sitting at for three hours now, and reentered his bathroom.
He faced himself in the mirror once again. Same scratch on the cheek, same bruised jaw, same bruised ribs, same scattered grazes, same old face.
Brian,
You look like a sack of shit that isn't even worthy to vacate a toilet!
Yours sincerely,
Honesty inc.
Brian nodded to himself as he opened the mirror door and into the fascinating world of the medical cabinet. He wasn't well stocked in the meds department; but he figured he would investigate anyway. Fucking hell! Why do we have shit all here?
Slamming the door shut in frustration, he once again came face to face with his battered appearance. Feeling disgusted at what he saw, he picked up his tube of toothpaste and smeared it over the mirror, feeling relieved as he did so. Better. No one beats Brian. No one.
Feeling a sudden wave of tiredness surge through his body, Brian decided to flop onto his bed. As he did so, the cell phone on his side table shrieked, causing him to jolt. He flipped the phone open.
"Yes?"
"Hey Brian, you gonna come join me and Hunter for lunch today?"
"As thrilling as it sounds, no."
"Fucking piker."
"Piker? How old are you Mikey?"
"I'll see you at two."
"Either me, or an empty seat. Have no expectations Michael. No expectations means no disappointments. Remember that."
Brian shut the phone before his best friend could respond to his wisdom, knowing that that was what always aggravated Michael.
He allowed his face to sink into his pillow, too tired to even pull the blankets over himself.
"Kick it here!" Fifteen year old Michael yelled to Brian.
He had to snicker…God, the gym tracksuits back then were just way too attractive.
"Are you gonna fucking kick it here or not?"
Brian looked down at the soccer ball near his feet.
"Why the fuck am I here?"
Michael jogged over to his friend, sweat lining his forehead. He wiped his red face with his shirt and regained his breath.
"Man, you got old!" Mikey laughed.
"Yeah? Piece of knowledge for you little boy: Unfortunately for you, you don't change at all in the future."
"Well, I guess you never outgrew being a prick."
Brian looked around the now empty soccer field from his youth. Suddenly, night fell upon the man and child as they conversed in the centre of the oval. The floodlights booted up loudly.
"Man, I'ts getting late, I got a date tonight…I think she'd like it better if I was clean." Mikey said.
Brian laughed bitterly. "Be sure to fuck her good for me."
"Shut up, faggot!" His friend spat out, hatred in his eyes.
"Hey! You were never this much of a little shit!"
Michael's face twisted into a lasting expression of hate. "Don't fucking talk to me like that!"
Brian remained calm, he knew this wasn't his friend.
"Do you want me to kick the ball to you or not?"
"I have a better idea." Came the reply. Brian felt a sharp punch land directly into his bruised ribs, causing him to buckle over and kneel on the grass in agony and shock.
"We all get what we deserve, sugar." The child sighed with an eerie voice before pivoting andexiting the field.
Brian's eyes snapped open. He searched around his vacant room as he panted to retrieve his breath.
"I've gotta get out of this shit hole" He said, to no one in particular as he found a shirt and organised himself in preparation for lunch.
Hope you all are still enjoying this! Thanks a bunch for your interest!
AllForYouRemy: Thanks! yeah, the letters are basically in his mind...they sort of represent different parts of his mind. I'm glad you're still liking this, and I hope not to disappoint:)
TheLinesBlur: Thankyou hun! that means heaps to me that you think I have written Brian basically in character. I just love his character in general, so writing it is fun. Thanks again!
Josie: Thanks for your interest, love!
Lady-Willowish: Thanks! Well I'm not really much of an angst writer, so I thought i'd throw in a bit of fun stuff in there, otherwise the story would be boring! thankyou:)