Matthew

To smile in the face of the world can be a tell tale sign, a sign of a deteriorating mask. Just imagine, you a boy of ten and six decided to use a hammer to break it further for the sake of a blonde.

Stupid.

"So do you like him more than me," my brother joked just before chugging down water.

"Yes, he's nicer. Less extravagant and overall less of an idiot." A slap across the head to the same spot as earlier.

"Well, eventually you will get sick of him like I am with you."

No I wouldn't, right

"No he's less insufferable"

An eye roll, with that distinctive Italian flare "Sure just how you didn't get sick of hockey, football and soccer."

I had a tendency back then to quit things, less because I was bad rather because I couldn't be bothered to committing any more. But he was different, and he was a physical person.

"If you're jealous just say so because at least three-quarters of my friends haven't left for college. Unlike some people."

Another hit but this time the nape of my neck, that place that stung with flower petals and morning kisses.

"Boys, " uttered stern by the black hair clip wearing brunette who promised the world to me all those years ago.

"So how is school going"

That topic that everyone -regardless of grades- hated. What was the correct answer that wouldn't warrant a lecture about how quintessential my grades would be for college; so I needed to put my head down further into those books?

"Fine still got my A's and B's in every class"

Lies but not too far from the truth.

"Do you know how dumb you sound, " I looked at him confused " this is why you are single "

I didn't know what it had to do with anything so I voiced my opinion just to hear.

"You are so boring that's why you don't have a girlfriend."

"And you do?" an eyebrow raised to search for an answer within his iris "oh, that's what I thought, also shouldn't you focus on saving for college?"

"I am, kinda, that's not the point. I'm quite the ladies man, I just decided that tying myself down at such a young age would prevent me from ... meeting the right woman."

The second he uttered 'ladies man' I knew his last kiss was the one my mother gave him each time he had a boo-boo. So a good decade.

"Last I checked Wendy's wasn't a person but you do you, ladies man"

Conversations of marriage left their tongues, a hard pill for me to swallow. But I did with vigour, so I could tell tales of grandchildren and a wife to make them proud. A woman whose hair shined every colour of smart, loving and kind. She would be pretty for them.

"You know I have a feeling that you won't get married, " he cackled orange dotting the side of his lips.

I wondered after eating if tears would fill the gaping hole I called a heart. Maybe food, maybe memories of that time I fell face-first into apple pie maybe memories of laughter.

"So how was it trick, " smiles of cocoa butter chatted through my phone.

"Fine, fell into a lake, danced with my dick out a couple of times, the usual."

"This is why men are going to die out in some million years, wake me up when you do."

"Well if I'm dead how do I wake you up, Faye, you know you sound so dumb sometimes."

She cut the call. Leaving me sat in my snarky remarks and my ever so smart mouth. Didn't matter though because I was right, per usual.

I remember that weekend, faintly, the times I found solace in that one movie. One becoming eleven that I watched with a Spanish book I didn't intend on completing.

The stories of boys becoming men in strife, struggles of drug addiction becoming written in the blank of my pupils. Dilated. My butt aching from the floor as I sat there, my mother urging me to ready myself for school in the coming days. My brother working and laughing at the marks I accumulated from "falling" during the trip.My father just laughing, smiling as beer laced his tongue.

He worked a lot, they all did.

Leaving me and my cassette tapes and stories alone on the floor of my living room.

All I heard was his kisses on my neck, trailing down my skin like wax, burning me in the best of ways. Or so I thought, as tears so plentiful dotted down my cheeks for reasons unknown.

Well I say that because I didn't want to realise tears were made by the guilt in my stomach, falling onto vanishing morning kisses hidden by hoodie.

"Are you excited for school tomorrow ?"

He asked me with his phone in hand, feet on my lap. Work clothes on as he had yet to take them off. Rants of how retail was a pain, I wonder if our parents were telling the truth.

Did we look similar?

My brother being all those years more experienced -in life and work- and yet he knew nothing more than to eat troubles away. A mannerism I learnt.

Tears were for the weak, he never said but he told it with his inability to show more than anger & joy. Like that time when his first girlfriend broke up with him, not a tear did he shed in front of me.

Not even our mother - though she told him it was okay. He rather punch a pillow, or wall and muffle his tears with the back of his hand in our bathroom.

"No, you didn't like high school so why would I."

"When did I say that, " he knew when " I made some friends, learnt math and that."

He learnt math, his ability to conjure words were sometimes so magnificent that the likes of a peasant such as me couldn't fathom.

He was a good brother, stupid but good.

I remember that Monday, that day I looked myself in the mirror as though an act of treason was committed. My feet didn't want to leave, I wanted to pick out each sin that clogged my pores, each regret that littered my fingerprint.

To taste the burning remains of a fling so that I could be sure that I had been baptised.

Sins washed away with purity.

I reached school fingers interlocked, earphones stuffed into a pocket with my phone and those blueberries. Velvet lips and dark skin came striding to me, not smiling but not upset.

She told me about how boring the break was, how she managed to read quite a bit, write some two. Looks of concern dotted irises, pupils telling of secrets she garnered.

The way she would stare at you at those moments, she knew there was something wrong so she searched my soul via an opening in my iris for answers. The trade of lingering secrets of pain and suffering she learn with iron fist and dead smiles. She rarely told me about her struggles, preferring to wipe my tears instead.

A push of hair behind those ears of mine, a hug as she whispered sweet nothings to calm me. She reminds me of my mother, the softness in her touch but the years showing through those spaces in her fingertips.

"You can talk to me when you need to,"

She hummed in an ear of mine as coconut left the void. As coco butter kisses left that small of my back, a hand in my hair patting away negativity.

A weak smile I gave her, a weaker one I received.

Lunch arrived, time fast but never fast enough to leave my mind at ease. His lingering presence managing to taunt me, the hallways of his scents, the musk of morning afters binding my nostrils together. I walked to the canteen and yet the aligning stars pointing me to you as though you a boy in a manger, being born to subtle stares and wishes of crimson.

My food in one hand I walked, left the room because I felt both of their presences. If avoiding could rid, is all I thought. So I avoided as though my life depended on it.

The bathroom stalls becoming solace each lunch time, sometimes the mornings that came. Soon I no longer ate, just resting in the bathroom listening to music in my headphones. Hearing the odd stall door open, close, footsteps in and out.

Those days, each one consisting of lunches in the slight stench of the restrooms. Better that his scent I said, better than him lodging love letters in my neck. Kisses to my palm.

I didn't talk to either of you much, preferring to remain alone in thoughts of Sodom and regret. Burning the past with a lighter I had.

It was better like that, I told myself.

You both stared at me, concerned. Faye walked to me and questioned what had wronged my mind. I feel as though she knew but she wanted to hear the ricochet of regret leave a tongue of stupidity.

I never spoke very much when she asked those question. It was okay, if not better this way. So I began ignoring her, you still caught my glances as I caught yours. You wanted to speak but regret pulled on your throat as it did mine. You just hid it better.

Mal came to me trying to persuade a fool, but fools are stubborn. So I ignored him.

It was better that way, tasting expired berries in my cracks. Your kisses had finally died, but I was dying with them.

Peaceful, and yet so amok.