Turmoil Behind The Mirror

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“Like a thief in the night,
The wind blows so light.
It wars with my tears,
That won’t dry for many years….”

- My Dying Bride -





When he finally got to the door, he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that made him suddenly feel a sense of doubt. In less than a second, a longing sadness took over him and made him frown in distress.

For a second, everything around him disappeared. He shrugged at his own stupidity, and without further hesitation, opened the door.

Paralyzed by piercing green eyes, Jon felt his essence slowly become totally transparent to them.

“Hey…” the green-eyed male muttered.

Jon frowned and wrapped himself in his senses as Alex stretched out a hand and offered him a book.

“Thanks for the book. I really enjoyed it.”

Jon couldn’t divert his eyes from that gaze, but smiled nonetheless as he slowly reached to grab the item.

“Thanks.”

Jon felt a little bit more relaxed, and not quite knowing why. He then thought it would be rude to just close the door, though something in the back of his mind told him to do so.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Sure.”

Jon stepped aside to let Alex in and closed the door behind them. Now he was in his dominion; he felt falsely safe.

“Take a seat… or grab a beer…. Suit yourself.”

Alex headed down the kitchen and grabbed two beers, tossing one at Jon. Then, the blue-eyed youth went back to the corridor to keep working on his sketch. He could tell that Alex sitting very close, probably in the living room. With just turning around, Jon would be able to face him, but he couldn’t find the nerve to do it.

Jon opened the box of pastels and started testing the colours, trying to choose the right tonalities for the skin.

“Quite a drawing….”

“Thanks…” Jon whispered and took a few gulps of his beer, then lit a cigarette.

“You’ve cleaned up the place.”

“Yeah….”

Suddenly, Jon felt that awful pressure on his chest: the desire to be left alone. Alone.

He felt he was contradicting myself and was about to be drowned in internal conflict, when the voice behind his back spoke up again.

“So… do you live by yourself?”

“My parents are on a business trip. My sister doesn’t live here anymore.”

Jon felt awkward talking about his family. For just an instant, he remembered his father, and a shiver went down his spine, menacing to become terrible tremors. And as he also remembered his mother and sister, his mind got lost, wondering back in time to the years lost in grief. His eyes rose in fear as he felt a cold grip around his neck.

“…And do you and your sister look alike?”

“Yes.”

“Is she older than you?”

“Yes.”

“Where does she live?”

“What’s with the fucking questions?!” Jon snapped.

Angrily, he turned around to face Alex and look him in the eye, but felt utterly disturbed and went back to his drawing, shaken by adversity.

Alex scrutinized him with narrowing eyes while taking deep gulps from the beer between his fingers ‘til he got to the bottom of the can.

“Don’t you have anything stronger?”

Jon frowned as he began thinking, but then went to his room to look under the bed. Roaming through some stuff that was underneath, he came to realize that there was no bottle to be found, so he returned to the living room.

“We’ll have to go down to the liquor store…” Jon sighed. “I ran out of bottles,” he then added with a sarcastic smile.

Alex stood up and waited for Jon to get some money and that fake ID of his.

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Silence grew between them while they walked down the street. A silence that burdened Jon.

“I’m sorry for what I said back there….”

Alex didn’t answer him, just smiled widely. First, Jon felt awkwardly disturbed by it, but eventually felt strangely better.

He walked with a quick pace, unconsciously thinking that the faster he walked, the quicker the figure walking beside him would fade away, as many others had done. Unfortunately, the memory of it made his soul cold and distracted.

He got rid of his musings with a loud sigh, a sigh that tasted like bittersweet defeat.

Jon just pulled the hood over his head and hid himself in his shell, taking peaks on reality through dark, wavy bangs.

Alex easily caught up with him. “Am I being stupid, or are you trying to hide?”

Jon didn’t even turn his head to look at him, just smiled and muttered, “We’re here,” before he walked satisfied through the door.

As soon as they walked in, the shopkeeper greeted him with familiarity. Jon quickly bought a considerable amount of bottles and told the man to keep the change after having exchanged a few polite words with him, and left the store with Alex walking behind him.

Jon felt bad; he felt the disdain of hiding away from something in vain, for the spot he had chosen to disappear was too obvious. He felt stupid and stared at what made him frown, and came around to his senses.

Walking slower, he allowed Alex to walk beside him and help him out with one of the bags. But that stare, so understanding -- and above all, condescending -- angered him.

“Stop staring at me.”

“Huh?” Alex muttered in half-faked surprise.

“Stop the fucking condescending look! I don’t need your self-pitying pain, so stop it!” Alex rolled his eyes. “Don’t eye-ball me, you bastard!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! Why are you such a passive-aggressive asshole?!”

{ Now…. }

// ‘Now’ what…? //

{ Snap…. }

// Fuck you, too. This is the last time I tell you to shut up! //

Jon stood dead in his tracks. With his free hand he let the hood fall back from his head, and took a deep breath. He then cleared his face from the bangs numbing his sight, letting them lie behind his ears with a careless manner, and turned back to look at the being staring back at him.

This time, Jon didn’t divert his gaze, but felt Alex studying his face with features lost in a mute and inexpressive façade. Fortunately, Jon wasn’t that stupid; he read surprise in those eyes.

// Now… the colossus has a weakness, then…. //

Jon finally took a good look at him. Dark green ayes; very light brown hair, short and combed into spikes; narrow nose; high cheekbones; firm chin; and an inquisitive expression. His eyebrows were arched, which made his eyes deep and gentle, and the piercing on the left brow accented the curious nature of the owner’s aggressive appearance. And that mouth – it was not so voluptuous and girly as his, but courteous and delicately defined. And the piercing on the right of the lower lip made it look soft and warm.

Jon was surprised when he noticed that Alex wasn’t heavier than him, though not lanky.

He felt as if it was actually the first time he had met Alex. He realized he had practically only known his voice and eyes, but now he discovered that the frame was equally pleasant, dressed in cargo pants, army boots, and t-shirt.

Jon was scrutinized him through the eyes of an artist, as if contemplating a work of art and the possibilities of it; studying the angles and sources of light. He stopped at the difficult and conflictive points, paying equal attention to them to reveal the secret of the brush, for the canvas changed depending on the deities wavering temper tantrums.

He struggled to find a flaw, but was unable to; the ivory skin was reluctant to uncover itself. Then, the system is perfect; if there is a flaw, it is human. At this, Jon narrowed his eyes and an unreadable expression shone on his face, an expression close to that of a tired traveler watching the deceiving sky.

Stunned by the work, he stretched his hand to caress the canvas.

{ But we’re made of clay…. }

At that, Jon came around and recovered himself, regretting not being able to touch the colours displayed on the canvas. He had just been chided by the museum guard, a thought that made him smile.

Alex couldn’t hide away his own perplexity; at that, Jon smiled even wider. He then turned around again, shoved his free hand in the pocket of his jacket, and resumed his walk home. But since he didn’t hear steps behind him, he stopped and waited for them to catch up, then they walked silently down the street until they reached Jon’s porch.

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They were both caught off-guard when they found Chris waiting for them, sitting on the steps and waving sarcastically at them.

“Hey, you two go shopping?”

“Hey, Chris. Why didn’t you wait inside?” Jon greeted while stepping inside the house.

“Nah. I didn’t want to be rude or anything,” he mocked.

“Now suddenly you have manners?” Jon teased while walking to the kitchen to leave the bags, but grabbed one of vodka and walked to the living room.

Alex and Chris were already sitting on the couch, while Jon left the bottle at the table and went to get glasses, cups, or anything else to serve his purpose.

He sat on the carpet in front of the coffee table, poured vodka in the cups and glasses, and handled them to his guests. He then lit a cigarette and lay back on the smaller sofa behind him.

“Jon? Don’t you have, you know… anything?” Chris wondered after drinking half the liquid in his glass.

“If you got cash, I have ‘anything’ you want…” Jon replied with a smile.

“C’mon, Jon. We’re friends…!”

“Yeah, but your friendship doesn’t put food on my table, Chris,” Jon responded, arching his eyebrows while mocking Chris’ tone.

“Don’t be such an asshole. Your parents give you money. Yours is a personal business….”

Jon finished his vodka in defeat. He knew there was no argument to discourage Chris. Yet deep inside, Jon liked the kid, and was only making him plead for the mere fun of it.

He stood up lazily and looked at Chris while putting out his cigarette, then disappeared into the corridor. Chris and Alex could hear Jon going through his stuff.

“Chris, what do you want?” Jon asked from his room.

“Oh, Jon, tap my vein, will ya?”

Silence.

“Well, Alex, since the house is generous today, is there anything that would satisfy your palate?” asked Jon with disdain and sarcasm almost tangible in his voice.

“Not really, thank you.”

Such denial was like a razor blade thrown into the air.

Emerging from the dark, Jon sat again in his spot and tossed some powder and a syringe at Chris, who already had a spoon between his fingers.

Leaving a narrow pipe gently on the coffee table, Jon contemplated something. “Alex, at least let me offer you some green.”

Jon took this as a ‘trying to make amends,’ which Alex seemed to understand, but he hesitated.

The clock took its place between the growing silence, and the cynical sound of it was like a heavy pendulum swaying back and forth in Jon’s mind.

But the holy silence was broken.

“Hey, Jon, help me out with this.”

Jon frowned at him. “Chris, you can tie the tourniquet on your own.” Jon toyed with the smoke of his recently lit cigarette.

“Bitch.”

“Fuck off, Chris.”

“I’ll pierce the vein, man!”

Jon gave up and got close to Chris, taking the harpoon from his clumsy fingers. He looked for the vein for a few seconds with soft, almost silken fingers.

He finally tapped the vein, disgust written all over his face and mannerism. Alex smiled, and Jon released the needle’s burden into Chris’ blood.

Chris was already reeling when Jon took the needle out and threw the syringe away, then poured some more vodka on his cup and drank with a few gulps.

Jon turned on the stereo and “Lollipop Lust Kill” filled the unspoken words between the gulps of vodka and deep draughts of pale smoke.

Five in the afternoon; it was dead time.

The vodka was warming Jon up, so he took the hoody off and remained in a short-sleeved shirt. He had forgotten about his arm, so he stared intently at the bandages when he finally remembered. And like a mutilated man who still feels pain coming from a missing limb, his arm itched.

Jon just tried to just erase it from his mind. He sighed loudly and filled his cup again, emptied it, and filled it again. He poured more into Alex’s glass with his hurting arm, as Alex got morbidly fixated on those bandages and the thought of what they were they hiding.

Alex emptied his glass and filled it to the top while Jon was redrawing to his spot on the floor.

“What happened to your arm?” Alex asked with sharpened eyes and honest curiosity, tough he could only wonder.

“Nothing,” the blue-eyed teen shrugged.

“So, the bandage is ornamental?”

“I said, nothing.”

Silence. Chris was lost.

“Jon….”

Smoke was building a sensuous curtain around Jon while he exhaled it.

“Hmm?”

“Are you always such an asshole?”

“Fuck you….” Jon almost whispered.

“Is that all you have to say? Sadly, I thought better of you.”

Alex was already standing up and grabbing his jacket.

This time, Jon didn’t refill the cup, instead opting to just grab the bottle and drink directly from it. Half of the vodka was already gone, and Jon wasn’t thinking clearly anymore.

Alex was preparing to leave, already turning his back at Jon, but turned around to see if his dark-haired companion had anything else to add.

But Jon was venomous. Alex was shaken by the poison corroding Jon; that sweet poison that was wrath.

“Now you have the courage to look at me, don’t you?” Alex spat, portraying all the mockery he could in his voice. Jon felt hurt, and his face spoke of it. “Yeah, I can be an asshole too, Jon…” Alex said with his chin held up high, while looking down at Jon.

“What is it that you want?” Jon asked, but the words flowed like poison.

Silence. Tension like a knot. Chris lost.

“What do you want?! Chris wants dope. Nicole wants friendship. Mark wants money…. What the fuck do you want from me?!” Jon’s calmed tone had turned into shouting, and he could no longer hide away the despair in his voice; he couldn’t stop the frustration. “Tell me!”

“You selfish bastard.” Alex let the jacket drop to the ground and emptied his leftover grass on he table, then drank from Chris’ cup too.

“Selfish?! I satisfy the demands of all of them -- even if it is corroding me -- and I am the selfish bastard?! I’d give it all away if they asked me to, because I don’t give a shit! So, what the fuck is it that you want in trade for leaving me be?!”

Alex had to admit that Jon was starting to scare him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but couldn’t utter a word, which was replaced by anger. Alex scrutinized Jon with a poisonous look from head to toe, and Jon grinned almost sadistically.

“I thought so. Well, then, I hope you rot, Alex. And you know what? I hope it hurts,” Jon said with a calmed voice, while giving Alex a sideway glance and pulling the bottle to his voluptuous lips.

Alex looked to the ground and shook his head in disapproval. He then looked back at Jon.

“Damn you, Jon.”

“Oh, damned I am. Believe me….”

“I never thought you were so cold-hearted, but you’ll never stop surprising me.”

“Surprising you? You barely know me.”

Rage was taking hold of Jon again, and it was starting to burn his veins.

“Yeah… but I don’t need to know a lot to see that you’re full of shit.”

“Sorry if I disappointed you,” Jon said mischievously. “I’ll just add one more to the list.”

“I can’t understand how Chris cares for you.”

“That’s an easy one…. I’m his free provider.”

“You really think so little of others?”

“Prove me wrong, asshole.”

“Sure…. Do you remember that night?” That came like a blow to Jon, who narrowed his eyes. “We carried you home, fucker! I left that guy in intensive care! But you don’t give a shit, right?!”

Jon was deeply hurt. He felt his heart bleeding, for he regretted hurting Alex. His soul bruised.

He left the bottle on the table, and looked at his bandaged arm before stripping it.

“Look, I didn’t ask you to…. I’ve been trough enjoyably worse, but if this is what it takes for you to leave me alone, then you can have it….”

Jon reopened the deep wounds of his arm with a harsh twist to the skin and exposed it to Alex. Blood was starting to run down Jon’s arm, pooling in his hand, then leaking on the floor.

“Is this what you want? Then you can keep it. If this is the goddamned answer you wanted, then here’s what happened….”

“Jonathan….”

Jon drank deeply from the bottle, grabbing it with his good arm, and looked at Alex with all the hurt he was feeling displayed on his beautiful features. Tears were brimming his eyes.

“But… you know, Alex, I don’t give a shit, because nobody does.”

Jon smiled, understanding between warm tears, and drank again; his throat was burning.

Alex was deeply disturbed; he started to feel worried about the amount of blood coming from Jon’s arm. The cuts near the wrist were deep, like those that shone on the upper side.

“Jon, calm down, okay?”

“No! Now you listen to me. You don’t know how I’d like to feel satisfied, at least this once. Everything I lay my eyes upon seems to be withering, and then I find myself unable to look out the windows of this wretched soul. Unable to kiss the clouds, my limbs lie numb and cold on the bridges of unconsciousness. And I can’t help but ask the still smouldering firmament if this is what I had been asking for. The answer is easy, or so the stars tell me.

“But everything reaching through my senses seems to fade away; a dying memory reminding me future minutes of days now passed. But now at least I know that not only in my dearest dreams I am my worst enemy….

<< Now tell us… >> the trees whisper against my neck, caressing my soul. << …Tell us…. >>

“For everything might rise from time to time, though ashes remain intact!”

Jon then gave up, feeling exhausted, and fell on his knees.

“Now leave… please….”

Alex walked slowly toward Jon, closing the distance between them. He crouched in from of him, but Jon looked away while sighing deeply; gave a sigh full of damage without repair.

“Jonathan….”

Alex was getting on his nerves.

“Leave…. Leave me alone; I need it. Please….”

Silence.

Jon then looked at Alex, palms away from him, and angrily stared him in the eye.

“Leave…” Jon dared him.

“No…” came the quiet response.


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