I can't believe I'm doing this...
READ FIRST!
My psychiatry's and his rather fucked up exercises.
So. Shrink is making me write a story to express my feelings. No harm in that. The problem is that I decided to back-fired him and am currently writing a bloody long homosexual fanfic to make him suffer, when I'm not even a writer. So doc finds it amusing to no end and asks me all this sort of stupid questions, as if how do I'd managed to break myself in two characters and make them be me without being me. Eh. Well sir, I'm bipolar - two persons in one, ya know. 2/3 of god if you want it to see it like that.
Anyways. Now he has given me a new assignment. He wants me to show it to people and let them tell me a) what do they thing about it, b) do they think I'm one of the characters, and c) does they perception of me has changed at all. Stupid doc.
So here is where you enter. If you could please read at least one bit of it and answer one question or all of them, it will be a huge help.
Yes, my lj is about to be invaded my more of my nonsense.
I would REALLY REALLY REALLY APPRECIATED YOUR HELP, cuz is kind of comforting to be showing this to people that only know bits and pieces of lil' old me...
Last but not least. Another thing you MUST understand, is that this two characters are me in my best and in my worst, more so in the further one. Their actions and thoughts are thinks that happened to me during my depression/maniac episodes. So please, if you have something to say, that I HOPE you do, have that little thing in mind. (THANKS HEART!)
Can you really see I DON'T want to post it? *sigh* Whatever, all in the name of... sanity.
Title - Pulvis de Sidus
Genre - Drama
Fandom - RPS, Villinde, Lindunn.
Rating - R
Summary - "An end has a start."
Disclaimer - Character are property of themselves; writing and storyline my own. Fiction.
For Emma, Mica (mi vida), and Heart Love you girls! <3
Looking outside his airplane’s window, Linde felt as if he was about to crash in a sky of Pennsylvania’s shinny yellow nightlights. He liked the idea of crashing in a sky, perhaps even finding out if his mother was right when she told him as boy that his grey eyes were nothing but two bright stars, that his blonde hair shined thanks to the stardust his guardian angel sprinkled it with every night as he slept. The thought of his mother made Linde almost feel her delicate touch over the troubling pain of his pounding left hand. Almost.
He passed the tip of his tongue over his dry lips in an attempt to moisten them. Yes, that was what was missing. That sensation of having the sweetest bit of cotton candy slowly disintegrating on his tongue, the taste his mouth always acquired whenever he thought of his mother, wasn’t there. Instead, his mouth had been weighed down by that tarnished flavour that only pain could bring. He passed his tongue over his lips once more. It was as if his saliva was nothing but metal ́that had rusted in his mouth, making Linde savour the implications of his actions, savour that ache.
A humourless chuckle abandoned his thin lips. He was someone bathed in stardust, someone being scratched by his own pain. Yes, someone that had taken in all of that sparkly dust that came from the two shiniest emerald stars he had ever seen, made out of nothing but specks of dirt. He closed his eyes tightly, rubbing them with his right thumb and index finger. He was so bloody tired. He had been fighting this… necessity for far too long. And yet, even now that he was miles away from those jaded stars, he could still feel how his wholeness was ablaze whenever their gaze was set on him, a gaze with the power of turning something insignificant into something worthy, something valuable.
For the second time in less than a minute, the same cynical chuckle found its way down his throat. And why wouldn’t it? Why wouldn’t he find it pathetic that his worth, his bloody value, was thanks to someone who saw something in him no one else, not even his own mother, had seen? Something malleable and useable. Something of worth …
The growing pain in his left hand stopped his train of thought. No, he wasn’t doing this right now; he didn’t posses the strength nor the will to venture inside the thoughts and feelings they would most definitely arise. Focusing once more on the spectacle of artificial yellow stars the outside of his window was giving him, his eyes caught a glimpse of a particular lonely red light that was shining across that yellow ocean. There stood his decision, mockery glowing back at him, making him see the consequences of his actions. Of all the decisions he could have made just a few hours ago, of all the yellow pinheads he could have chosen to keep the balance of the lot, he had taken the only one that had the power of destroying in an eye blink everything he -they- had worked for. But still, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the shining red mock star, just as he couldn’t feel remorse for his choice.
Making a fist of his left hand, he hit the armrest with such force and anger that an expression of pain took over his delicate features. It had to be done, damn it. This fucking pain in his left hand was a necessity; the worrying in Seppo’s voice was something he had to provoke. And yes, perhaps he was nothing but a coward; perhaps he had decided to hide behind physical hurt and the impersonality of a phone call to make up his mind; perhaps he was on a bloody flight to Pennsylvania thinking about shinning stars and shinning stardust, as their ideas was the only thing he had left; perhaps he, Linde Lindstrom, guitarist of the world famous band HIM, needed to get away from what, from whom, had given him the power not only to shine but feel that his life had been a life and not just an existence, in order to save himself from what was written in those green stars the last time they set themselves upon his dull grey ones; perhaps.
Perhaps “perhaps” was nothing but the sound of the most bittersweet crash. Just like a falling star.
Linde pressed his right palm on his tired face. He needed to shut it down, shut down something. His brain chemistry most likely; he knew it would be impossible to kill off his feelings or thoughts. He took off from around his neck the hoary pendant of the Virgin Mary he had worn since he could remember, a gift of his mother that would protect him from all evil and pain, she told him. He had never been a religious person, hell, he wasn’t a believer. For him, religion and the church were the biggest hypocrites ever to be invented to teach human remorse and guilt. A necessary evil created for people to find out that life was pain, his grandmother used to say. But he still wore the aging pendant around his neck. It made him feel safe, as if his mother was there with him, always.
As his thumb stroked the pendant it came across with something like grains of sand distorting the smooth back surface. Grains of green and silver stardust. But he wasn't thiking about that right now. No, now he was thinking of his mother singing “Sininen Uni" to him. He could feel her fingers stroking his hair just like she did when putting him to bed, telling him how it was bathed with stardust from the biggest star off all -the sun. He could feel the warmth of her delicate hand when placed on his cheek after she had kissed him goodnight, while all the time his nostrils were invaded by her flowery perfume that until that day was his interpretation of safeness. And yet, the most he could perceive was the worry in her voice as she told Seppo that she hadn’t seen him nor spoken to him. And oh how he hated himself for that.
Just as the guilt was starting to erode his soul, the flight stewardess came by and asked him in her sickeningly sweet voice to buckle up as they would be landing in Pennsylvania in a matter of minutes. However, the only thing that Linde could do was stare at the green star pendants the stewardess was wearing on her ear loops.
And then it hit him, like the realization of an unspoken yet obvious truth. What the fuck was he thinking? His left hand seemed to be the only part of him willing to perceive that question as it started to pulse with furious pain. He had fucked it up pretty bad…
And still.
And still.
And still.
And still, he had fucked it pretty bad.
On purpose.
A rush of illness threatened to spill from his mouth, making him cover it with his right hand. What the fuck had he done? What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck would he do? Sickness and laughter started to dance in his mouth, mixing with the rust of his saliva, making it bitter, making the ache and shame more terrible. He closed his grey eyes tightly as he heard the flight stewardess with her stupid emerald stars ask him if he was okay and tell him that he really needed to buckle up. So he did, using only his shaking, sore, left hand, enjoying how it screamed with hurt through his frantic and brusque movements. He buckled his seat belt and placed his head between his knees, letting his impossibly long dreadlocks cover him like the tails of blonde shooting stars. Blonde dying stars.
It was raining in Pennsylvania. Linde could hear the drops of water hit the window as he took deep breaths to calm himself down. He hadn’t realized that had they landed, and in a way, he was glad. He didn’t need to hear the sound of his destiny hiding in the crash that the rubber tires made when sliding on the wet concrete’s landing lane. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Someone was shaking him and asking him if he was all right with that same sickening sweet voice from a few minutes ago with not a drop of concern in it. He unbuckled himself and answered rather coldly that he was fine, thank you so much for your worry. He heard his mother voice reprimanding him for his manners, making him feel guilty to the extent that he gave the stewardess a shy smile. She didn’t smile back but gave him an odd, cautious look. He toyed with the idea of asking for one of those shiny green stars, maybe they gave them away like those little plastic plane wings. He loathed stars, but he wanted one to hang with his pendant, convinced that he would get protection against that stardust that bathed him so long ago from touching his skin again. After all, it had come from green stars too. She was gone before he could utter a sound.
Linde stood up and walked down the plane’s blue corridor. His mind was in a daze. Everything felt like such a dream, like walking on top of clouds; dark, rainy clouds that were there to inspect his following actions. As he walked down the tunnel, eyes set on the green carpet with it`s abstract shapes of small shooting stars, light green shooting stars, he had the feeling of moving backwards rather than forwards.
Too many years spent on airports around the world made his movements rather mechanical actions. Walking to the suitcase carousel, he made a note of asking where the nearest ATM was; he would need money for the taxi’s tariff. It didn’t take him long to see his beaten up black suitcase, but suddenly he needed to feel beaten up as well, so he took it using his left hand, feeling a rush of pain, like needles being stuck on the length of his arm, feeling him up. Yes, he needed to feel the pain. He needed to feel his actions.
Suitcase in hand, he stood on migration, all the time his grey eyes focusing on those damn star shapes of the carpet. It was as if everything was mocking him, making him feel the absurdness of his decision. But he did not care. No, that was a lie: he cared too fucking much, that was exactly why he was doing it, to make sure that that ache in its most purest form that he was feeling would also be the easiest pain to accept. Or so he hoped.
Soon he was sitting in a taxi, looking for the piece of paper inside his jean`s front pocket. West Chester, that was where he was heading. He allowed his eyes to drift to the window, looking at the drops of water that decorated it, reminding him of Helsinki’s sky on a winter night. His need for hope made him reach for his Virgin Mary pendant once more, needing to feel a piece of familiarity in his hand. The coldness of the metal was the only thing his heart felt. Linde focused on how the bigger drops of water slid down the glass faster, sucking in the small droplets in its path. Yes, everything seemed to be mocking him. The morning sun found its way out from behind a cloud, crashing on the window and decorating the drops of water with the colours of the rainbows, making them look like shiny drops of something unreachable, something that had to choose to touch you, to become part of you. Like stardust.
His eyes rolled, followed by a bitter laugh; he was losing his fucking mind.
Butterflies started to dance inside his stomach as the view of a middle class white house sat in front of Linde’s window. He should have called first, damn it, but it was too late for that now. Waiting until the taxi driver pulled out his suitcase from the trunk, he ventured outside the taxi and paid the tariff of the ride. He stood there for a few minutes, suitcase in hand and observing the house, praying with all his might for no one to be home. Finally, as a sigh left his lips, he started to walk to the front door, pulling his suitcase with his left hand, letting the pain be the only thing he felt at the moment. Somehow, he knew that he didn’t need to use his hand to feel it, but this way was safer.
Playing with his pendant, he rang the bell and waited. The door flew open a minute later; there was no way back now.
“Linde? What the fuck are you doing here, man?” His voice had that rusted resonance that only smokers posses. He stopped himself, he wasn’t thinking about that now. He lifted the heavy suitcase up a few centimetres. Yes, pain always made everything else go to oblivion.
“I - May I come in?” He wasn’t looking at his blue eyes, the same shade of sparkly blue with which stars had been painted on the children’s books his mother used to read him, and focused instead on his beaten up red Chuck’s. He needed to buy new ones, perhaps a pair of each colour. Yes, he would do that. He also needed a doctor to check his hand, but he could do that later. Maybe he should have done that first. It didn`t matter now. Nothing did.
“Sure, come in. Fuck man, what in the name of fuck are you doing here by yourself? Aren’t you guys on tour or something? I think Bam told me that you wouldn’t be touring here anytime soon. Broke the poor fucker`s heart.”
But Linde didn’t move to go in, nor did the other seem to shift to allow him to pass inside. So he stood there, watching how the body in front of him leaned on the doorframe, legs crossed, giving Linde a better view of the boots he was wearing; black Doctor Martens. And yet, in his head the questions just asked danced, picking words from one another and making new questions, “something with you guys?”, “name yourself or something”, “you aren’t with the guys?”, “sure, fuck yourself.” Too many questions, but he only heard the most important one. He knew that no matter how hard he tried to distort it, he would have to answer it sooner than later. But that was just it, answering would make it real, too real, and reality was something he had been trying to block from the moment he boarded the plane, painting it with green stars with their tails of sparking dust, just like the airport`s carpeted floor.
“No. No, I’m alone. We... I-I was wondering if it was possible for me to stay here for a bit. I need a place to stay and… yeah. Nobody knows I’m here, and I would kinda like it if it stays like that.”
He finally looked into those eyes. Shock was written on Linde’s face as he discovered that the blue he was expecting wasn’t there, instead having his grey irises crashing with a soft shade of jade ones, a reflection of the green t-shirt the other one was wearing. An odd look was painted in them, one that was expecting an answer from him. It was an odd look; just like the one the flight stewardess with her green star ear pendants had given him. He deserved it. He knew he did, he deserved everything that could hit him at the moment. But he didn`t tell him that, he`d figure it out sooner or later.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I mean. Of course you can stay. But why not at Bam’s? Really, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Friendly smile, friendly eyes. Linde liked him, always had.
He took another deep breath; he had to answer because he deserved it. Linde needed to hear it as well, after all, it had been his sole doing. Just as he was about to respond, a huge bang was heard, frightening Linde to death. Looking at the street, he saw the swirling green and grey remains of smoke from a firework. The laughter of young kids had been carried by the wind right into his ears.
“Fucking kids, they just discovered the wonders of Mexican fireworks. Hey! Do that one more time and I’ll come and kick your sorry asses! Ha, sometimes I think they want for me to go and kick their sorry asses. Hey, are you okay, man?"
And just like that, looking at those falling sparks of green and grey smoke that left a light trace of colour in the sky as they continued their dive to the ground, Linde finally answered the question that would explain everything, or so he hoped:
“I quit the band, Ryan.”
My psychiatry's and his rather fucked up exercises.
So. Shrink is making me write a story to express my feelings. No harm in that. The problem is that I decided to back-fired him and am currently writing a bloody long homosexual fanfic to make him suffer, when I'm not even a writer. So doc finds it amusing to no end and asks me all this sort of stupid questions, as if how do I'd managed to break myself in two characters and make them be me without being me. Eh. Well sir, I'm bipolar - two persons in one, ya know. 2/3 of god if you want it to see it like that.
Anyways. Now he has given me a new assignment. He wants me to show it to people and let them tell me a) what do they thing about it, b) do they think I'm one of the characters, and c) does they perception of me has changed at all. Stupid doc.
So here is where you enter. If you could please read at least one bit of it and answer one question or all of them, it will be a huge help.
Yes, my lj is about to be invaded my more of my nonsense.
I would REALLY REALLY REALLY APPRECIATED YOUR HELP, cuz is kind of comforting to be showing this to people that only know bits and pieces of lil' old me...
Last but not least. Another thing you MUST understand, is that this two characters are me in my best and in my worst, more so in the further one. Their actions and thoughts are thinks that happened to me during my depression/maniac episodes. So please, if you have something to say, that I HOPE you do, have that little thing in mind. (THANKS HEART!)
Can you really see I DON'T want to post it? *sigh* Whatever, all in the name of... sanity.
Title - Pulvis de Sidus
Genre - Drama
Fandom - RPS, Villinde, Lindunn.
Rating - R
Summary - "An end has a start."
Disclaimer - Character are property of themselves; writing and storyline my own. Fiction.
For Emma, Mica (mi vida), and Heart Love you girls! <3
Looking outside his airplane’s window, Linde felt as if he was about to crash in a sky of Pennsylvania’s shinny yellow nightlights. He liked the idea of crashing in a sky, perhaps even finding out if his mother was right when she told him as boy that his grey eyes were nothing but two bright stars, that his blonde hair shined thanks to the stardust his guardian angel sprinkled it with every night as he slept. The thought of his mother made Linde almost feel her delicate touch over the troubling pain of his pounding left hand. Almost.
He passed the tip of his tongue over his dry lips in an attempt to moisten them. Yes, that was what was missing. That sensation of having the sweetest bit of cotton candy slowly disintegrating on his tongue, the taste his mouth always acquired whenever he thought of his mother, wasn’t there. Instead, his mouth had been weighed down by that tarnished flavour that only pain could bring. He passed his tongue over his lips once more. It was as if his saliva was nothing but metal ́that had rusted in his mouth, making Linde savour the implications of his actions, savour that ache.
A humourless chuckle abandoned his thin lips. He was someone bathed in stardust, someone being scratched by his own pain. Yes, someone that had taken in all of that sparkly dust that came from the two shiniest emerald stars he had ever seen, made out of nothing but specks of dirt. He closed his eyes tightly, rubbing them with his right thumb and index finger. He was so bloody tired. He had been fighting this… necessity for far too long. And yet, even now that he was miles away from those jaded stars, he could still feel how his wholeness was ablaze whenever their gaze was set on him, a gaze with the power of turning something insignificant into something worthy, something valuable.
For the second time in less than a minute, the same cynical chuckle found its way down his throat. And why wouldn’t it? Why wouldn’t he find it pathetic that his worth, his bloody value, was thanks to someone who saw something in him no one else, not even his own mother, had seen? Something malleable and useable. Something of worth …
The growing pain in his left hand stopped his train of thought. No, he wasn’t doing this right now; he didn’t posses the strength nor the will to venture inside the thoughts and feelings they would most definitely arise. Focusing once more on the spectacle of artificial yellow stars the outside of his window was giving him, his eyes caught a glimpse of a particular lonely red light that was shining across that yellow ocean. There stood his decision, mockery glowing back at him, making him see the consequences of his actions. Of all the decisions he could have made just a few hours ago, of all the yellow pinheads he could have chosen to keep the balance of the lot, he had taken the only one that had the power of destroying in an eye blink everything he -they- had worked for. But still, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the shining red mock star, just as he couldn’t feel remorse for his choice.
Making a fist of his left hand, he hit the armrest with such force and anger that an expression of pain took over his delicate features. It had to be done, damn it. This fucking pain in his left hand was a necessity; the worrying in Seppo’s voice was something he had to provoke. And yes, perhaps he was nothing but a coward; perhaps he had decided to hide behind physical hurt and the impersonality of a phone call to make up his mind; perhaps he was on a bloody flight to Pennsylvania thinking about shinning stars and shinning stardust, as their ideas was the only thing he had left; perhaps he, Linde Lindstrom, guitarist of the world famous band HIM, needed to get away from what, from whom, had given him the power not only to shine but feel that his life had been a life and not just an existence, in order to save himself from what was written in those green stars the last time they set themselves upon his dull grey ones; perhaps.
Perhaps “perhaps” was nothing but the sound of the most bittersweet crash. Just like a falling star.
Linde pressed his right palm on his tired face. He needed to shut it down, shut down something. His brain chemistry most likely; he knew it would be impossible to kill off his feelings or thoughts. He took off from around his neck the hoary pendant of the Virgin Mary he had worn since he could remember, a gift of his mother that would protect him from all evil and pain, she told him. He had never been a religious person, hell, he wasn’t a believer. For him, religion and the church were the biggest hypocrites ever to be invented to teach human remorse and guilt. A necessary evil created for people to find out that life was pain, his grandmother used to say. But he still wore the aging pendant around his neck. It made him feel safe, as if his mother was there with him, always.
As his thumb stroked the pendant it came across with something like grains of sand distorting the smooth back surface. Grains of green and silver stardust. But he wasn't thiking about that right now. No, now he was thinking of his mother singing “Sininen Uni" to him. He could feel her fingers stroking his hair just like she did when putting him to bed, telling him how it was bathed with stardust from the biggest star off all -the sun. He could feel the warmth of her delicate hand when placed on his cheek after she had kissed him goodnight, while all the time his nostrils were invaded by her flowery perfume that until that day was his interpretation of safeness. And yet, the most he could perceive was the worry in her voice as she told Seppo that she hadn’t seen him nor spoken to him. And oh how he hated himself for that.
Just as the guilt was starting to erode his soul, the flight stewardess came by and asked him in her sickeningly sweet voice to buckle up as they would be landing in Pennsylvania in a matter of minutes. However, the only thing that Linde could do was stare at the green star pendants the stewardess was wearing on her ear loops.
And then it hit him, like the realization of an unspoken yet obvious truth. What the fuck was he thinking? His left hand seemed to be the only part of him willing to perceive that question as it started to pulse with furious pain. He had fucked it up pretty bad…
And still.
And still.
And still.
And still, he had fucked it pretty bad.
On purpose.
A rush of illness threatened to spill from his mouth, making him cover it with his right hand. What the fuck had he done? What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck would he do? Sickness and laughter started to dance in his mouth, mixing with the rust of his saliva, making it bitter, making the ache and shame more terrible. He closed his grey eyes tightly as he heard the flight stewardess with her stupid emerald stars ask him if he was okay and tell him that he really needed to buckle up. So he did, using only his shaking, sore, left hand, enjoying how it screamed with hurt through his frantic and brusque movements. He buckled his seat belt and placed his head between his knees, letting his impossibly long dreadlocks cover him like the tails of blonde shooting stars. Blonde dying stars.
It was raining in Pennsylvania. Linde could hear the drops of water hit the window as he took deep breaths to calm himself down. He hadn’t realized that had they landed, and in a way, he was glad. He didn’t need to hear the sound of his destiny hiding in the crash that the rubber tires made when sliding on the wet concrete’s landing lane. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder. Someone was shaking him and asking him if he was all right with that same sickening sweet voice from a few minutes ago with not a drop of concern in it. He unbuckled himself and answered rather coldly that he was fine, thank you so much for your worry. He heard his mother voice reprimanding him for his manners, making him feel guilty to the extent that he gave the stewardess a shy smile. She didn’t smile back but gave him an odd, cautious look. He toyed with the idea of asking for one of those shiny green stars, maybe they gave them away like those little plastic plane wings. He loathed stars, but he wanted one to hang with his pendant, convinced that he would get protection against that stardust that bathed him so long ago from touching his skin again. After all, it had come from green stars too. She was gone before he could utter a sound.
Linde stood up and walked down the plane’s blue corridor. His mind was in a daze. Everything felt like such a dream, like walking on top of clouds; dark, rainy clouds that were there to inspect his following actions. As he walked down the tunnel, eyes set on the green carpet with it`s abstract shapes of small shooting stars, light green shooting stars, he had the feeling of moving backwards rather than forwards.
Too many years spent on airports around the world made his movements rather mechanical actions. Walking to the suitcase carousel, he made a note of asking where the nearest ATM was; he would need money for the taxi’s tariff. It didn’t take him long to see his beaten up black suitcase, but suddenly he needed to feel beaten up as well, so he took it using his left hand, feeling a rush of pain, like needles being stuck on the length of his arm, feeling him up. Yes, he needed to feel the pain. He needed to feel his actions.
Suitcase in hand, he stood on migration, all the time his grey eyes focusing on those damn star shapes of the carpet. It was as if everything was mocking him, making him feel the absurdness of his decision. But he did not care. No, that was a lie: he cared too fucking much, that was exactly why he was doing it, to make sure that that ache in its most purest form that he was feeling would also be the easiest pain to accept. Or so he hoped.
Soon he was sitting in a taxi, looking for the piece of paper inside his jean`s front pocket. West Chester, that was where he was heading. He allowed his eyes to drift to the window, looking at the drops of water that decorated it, reminding him of Helsinki’s sky on a winter night. His need for hope made him reach for his Virgin Mary pendant once more, needing to feel a piece of familiarity in his hand. The coldness of the metal was the only thing his heart felt. Linde focused on how the bigger drops of water slid down the glass faster, sucking in the small droplets in its path. Yes, everything seemed to be mocking him. The morning sun found its way out from behind a cloud, crashing on the window and decorating the drops of water with the colours of the rainbows, making them look like shiny drops of something unreachable, something that had to choose to touch you, to become part of you. Like stardust.
His eyes rolled, followed by a bitter laugh; he was losing his fucking mind.
Butterflies started to dance inside his stomach as the view of a middle class white house sat in front of Linde’s window. He should have called first, damn it, but it was too late for that now. Waiting until the taxi driver pulled out his suitcase from the trunk, he ventured outside the taxi and paid the tariff of the ride. He stood there for a few minutes, suitcase in hand and observing the house, praying with all his might for no one to be home. Finally, as a sigh left his lips, he started to walk to the front door, pulling his suitcase with his left hand, letting the pain be the only thing he felt at the moment. Somehow, he knew that he didn’t need to use his hand to feel it, but this way was safer.
Playing with his pendant, he rang the bell and waited. The door flew open a minute later; there was no way back now.
“Linde? What the fuck are you doing here, man?” His voice had that rusted resonance that only smokers posses. He stopped himself, he wasn’t thinking about that now. He lifted the heavy suitcase up a few centimetres. Yes, pain always made everything else go to oblivion.
“I - May I come in?” He wasn’t looking at his blue eyes, the same shade of sparkly blue with which stars had been painted on the children’s books his mother used to read him, and focused instead on his beaten up red Chuck’s. He needed to buy new ones, perhaps a pair of each colour. Yes, he would do that. He also needed a doctor to check his hand, but he could do that later. Maybe he should have done that first. It didn`t matter now. Nothing did.
“Sure, come in. Fuck man, what in the name of fuck are you doing here by yourself? Aren’t you guys on tour or something? I think Bam told me that you wouldn’t be touring here anytime soon. Broke the poor fucker`s heart.”
But Linde didn’t move to go in, nor did the other seem to shift to allow him to pass inside. So he stood there, watching how the body in front of him leaned on the doorframe, legs crossed, giving Linde a better view of the boots he was wearing; black Doctor Martens. And yet, in his head the questions just asked danced, picking words from one another and making new questions, “something with you guys?”, “name yourself or something”, “you aren’t with the guys?”, “sure, fuck yourself.” Too many questions, but he only heard the most important one. He knew that no matter how hard he tried to distort it, he would have to answer it sooner than later. But that was just it, answering would make it real, too real, and reality was something he had been trying to block from the moment he boarded the plane, painting it with green stars with their tails of sparking dust, just like the airport`s carpeted floor.
“No. No, I’m alone. We... I-I was wondering if it was possible for me to stay here for a bit. I need a place to stay and… yeah. Nobody knows I’m here, and I would kinda like it if it stays like that.”
He finally looked into those eyes. Shock was written on Linde’s face as he discovered that the blue he was expecting wasn’t there, instead having his grey irises crashing with a soft shade of jade ones, a reflection of the green t-shirt the other one was wearing. An odd look was painted in them, one that was expecting an answer from him. It was an odd look; just like the one the flight stewardess with her green star ear pendants had given him. He deserved it. He knew he did, he deserved everything that could hit him at the moment. But he didn`t tell him that, he`d figure it out sooner or later.
“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I mean. Of course you can stay. But why not at Bam’s? Really, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Friendly smile, friendly eyes. Linde liked him, always had.
He took another deep breath; he had to answer because he deserved it. Linde needed to hear it as well, after all, it had been his sole doing. Just as he was about to respond, a huge bang was heard, frightening Linde to death. Looking at the street, he saw the swirling green and grey remains of smoke from a firework. The laughter of young kids had been carried by the wind right into his ears.
“Fucking kids, they just discovered the wonders of Mexican fireworks. Hey! Do that one more time and I’ll come and kick your sorry asses! Ha, sometimes I think they want for me to go and kick their sorry asses. Hey, are you okay, man?"
And just like that, looking at those falling sparks of green and grey smoke that left a light trace of colour in the sky as they continued their dive to the ground, Linde finally answered the question that would explain everything, or so he hoped:
“I quit the band, Ryan.”