Mysterious Skin - I Wish I Was (1/15)

[osaki_nana_707]

Title: I Wish I Was (1/15)
Author: osaki_nana_707
Pairings/Characters: Brian, Eric
Rating: PG-13
Warnings:language, mentions of abuse
Summary: Brian's not through with Neil. Neil's not through destroying himself.

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I Wish I Was

(Disclaimer: Mysterious Skin and all related properties belong to Gregg Araki and Scott Heim.)

Chapter 1

(Brian Lackey)

When I woke up on Christmas morning, it wasn't with the usual tingling excitement that I usually woke up with. This morning I woke up feeling cold and… wet.

Pulling back the covers, I discovered with embarrassment that I'd wet the bed, something I hadn't done since childhood. Quickly I ripped the sheets from the mattress and tossed them in a crumpled heap to the floor. With as humiliating as it had been in childhood, it was only magnified by the fact that I was nearly twenty years old, so I couldn't let anyone find out. I crammed the soiled sheets into my closet in the corner to wash later when no one was around and found my spare set in the hall closet just outside my room.

I looked around for a minute, saw no one and heard no one within a reasonable distance, and returned to my room. I pulled the mattress cover, the sheet, the comforter tight over the mattress, smoothing wrinkle after wrinkle in the dim, early morning light that was coming from the window, and, as I sat there on my knees, tugging and smoothing and tugging and smoothing, I was suddenly overcome.

The sobbing noise was coming from me before I realized that it was me. I clutched the end of the comforter in my fist, resting my forehead against the corner of the mattress and cried and cried and cried until I was sure I would run out of body fluid, shrivel up, and become a wrinkled gray mass that would be no good for anything except staining the carpet.

The night before came playing back like a fucked up movie in my head, way too clear, unlike my previous waking dreams and memories.

Neil McCormick. It had all come back to him, hadn't it? He had taken me back to that place, that place, and before he'd even said anything, I knew what he was going to tell me. I didn't want to hear it, but I did, but I didn't, but I did. He told me everything, retracing the memories with those dark eyes of his, a quiet, near vulnerability to his voice that I was sure he didn't use on anyone else. He told me everything per my request, ready to stop whenever I asked, but I never told him to stop, and then when he was finished I had screamed at him and sobbed in his lap like some pathetic little kid (a lot like how I was now). I had spilled blood all over his jeans, and he'd clutched to me, shushing me like a mother in church, a feeling I was sure he was as unfamiliar with as I was with my temporary loss of sanity. The carolers had sung "Silent Night," and I wished that the night could have been that way, but the rush of blood in my ears and the choking pathetic sounds, and the screaming that may have all been in my head was just too loud.

Then the door opened, and Neil had stared like a raccoon caught in the garbage while they stared back with equally surprised and confused faces. He cracked a half-smile, grabbing me by the hand and dragging me along behind him and muttered something along the lines of, "whoops, wrong house." I think the family was so stunned that they didn't even think to memorize our faces or call the police until we were long gone.

Neil had practically thrown me into the back seat, and Eric was in the driver's seat, and Neil said to him with a slam of the passenger side door, "Drive. Now."

He did. Eric would do pretty much anything Neil told him to do; this I knew.

"What happened back there?" Eric asked once we'd gotten a few streets away from that godforsaken house. He seemed to retract his question when a whimpering sound escaped into the air, and I realized that it came from me. Well, maybe Neil had answered him. I didn't know because the next thing I knew, I was waking up in the back seat, slumped over pathetically. There was blood staining the back seat, and I vaguely thought that maybe club soda would get that out. Eric was staring at me with an overwhelming amount of sympathy, and Neil was giving me something along the lines of a pained expression, like it was an emotion he wasn't fully capable of making or understanding.

"We're at your house," Eric said, voice meeker than I'd ever remembered it sounding.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but instead Neil pulled out his shirt tail and wiped my nose clean of blood. I sat up robotically, looking around my front yard as if I'd never seen it before, and it started snowing. I got out of the car in what felt like slow motion and turned back, and Neil was looking right into my eyes, like he was seeing something he hadn't seen in years and had hoped to never see again because it felt ten times worse the second time.

"Merry Christmas," he said, and they were gone.

I went inside and heard Deborah and Mom talking animatedly in the kitchen. As silently as possible, I climbed the stairs and locked myself into my room. I remembered collapsing into the bed with all of my clothes on, even my shoes, pulling the blanket over my head, and wishing over and over again for this night to just be over with.

That was how I had gotten to this point. Unfortunately, it didn't seem that Christmas Day was faring any better so far.

I changed clothes and combed my fingers through my hair. I went into the bathroom and wiped my nose until I didn't feel dried blood anymore. I adjusted my glasses and straightened my shirt and put on a smile. Maybe my Christmas had been ruined. Maybe my life had been ruined, but I wasn't about to take it out on unsuspecting Deborah and Mom. It wouldn't have been fair, even if I would have liked to blame my predicament on them.

I came downstairs to find them in the living room, drinking hot chocolate, listening to Christmas music playing softly over the radio.

"Morning, Brian. Merry Christmas," Deborah said with a watery smile. It was almost like she already knew something was wrong. It made me nervous. "We missed you last night."

"Sorry," I said with a meaningless shrug, "Merry Christmas."

"Did you have a good time with Eric?" Mom asked. "I certainly hope it wasn't such a good time that you felt you were too good to open presents with us."

I'd completely forgotten the tradition where we'd all open one gift the night before, and that layered an icing of guilt on top of all of my other horrible feelings. "I didn't realize how late it was," I lied. "I'm really sorry."

"Oh, it's all right," Mom waved it off. "It's nice to see you get out of the house once in a while."

I nodded, taking a seat by the Christmas tree. "Well, I guess we can open gifts now… if you want to. I think you'll like what I got you."

It was weird how much of an effort it was just to act like myself, like I didn't know who I was anymore. My entire life had been defined by a moment I couldn't even remember until last night. I hoped I'd had enough practice acting as me that I gave a convincing performance.

Deborah got Mom a fancy blouse from California that was the same color as the sand on the beach. It even smelled warm and sunny. She held it up to her, smiling and thanking Deborah over and over again. "Thank you, it's so beautiful, Deb. Thank you. I can't wait until it's warm enough to wear it. Thank you!"

She'd gotten Deborah a pretty necklace and me a watch. I put the watch on immediately, admiring its gold face. "Thanks," I told her, fighting to keep my smile and just feel happy about such a nice gift… but all I felt was this pit in my stomach growing deeper and deeper, threatening to swallow me whole. I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever feel good ever again.

I got Mom and Deborah both gift certificates to a spa. I told them that they could go and get pampered and relax and spend time together before Deborah had to go back. I got hugs and kisses that felt much worse than they should have. Every time a hand was laid on me, it wasn't Mom's or Deborah's. It was the hands of that man. Of him.

Deborah got me a book about space. As I opened it, pulling carefully at the wrapping paper, I began to see planets and stars on the cover. My stomach clenched. "If you don't like it, I can always get you something else," Deborah offered immediately. "Mom told me you're not really interested in space anymore, but…"

"No, no, I like it," I said, forcing the corners of my mouth up as far as they would go, but I worried that I looked as nauseous as I felt. "I'll definitely show Eric. I bet he'd like to see it too." I was talking pointlessly, trying to fill the air up with anything that I could so that I wouldn't have to listen to the inside of my head.

I ended up interrupting myself when I saw a bright drop of red splat against the cover.

"Brian, your nose," Deborah started, and I shoved the book at her, smiling, smiling, smiling, as I made my way to the bathroom.

"Every time I think it'll never happen again, it always does," I joked, pressing toilet paper to the nostril.

"Are you all right?" Mom asked, eyebrows knitting together, and I nodded furiously as if I was the one who needed to be convinced.

"I'm fine. You know how it is. It just happens sometimes. It's not a big deal. I'll be fine." I was rambling, I knew I was. I wished that the doubts that hung in between each statement didn't have answers or proof that they were untruths. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to clear my thoughts, but the moment I did, I saw his face, and I saw Neil's face.

We finished opening gifts, ate breakfast, and drank hot chocolate. After sitting in on Deborah and Mom's conversations, adding little answers when addressed, trying not to think about the night before, after hours of that, I finally excused myself to go give Eric his gift.

"I'll be back in a little while," I said. I checked the mail before I drove off. It hadn't been checked in a few days, due to my own neglect. I found a Christmas card from my Dad, which I tossed into the backseat without even opening the envelope. There were a few bills, some cards for Mom, and then I found a card from, of all people, Avalyn.

I opened it, scanning the image of a snowy village with Santa flying over it on the front, lifted the flap and saw a simple "Have a Very Merry Christmas." Underneath, she had written, "I hope the truth continues to serve you well. I'm sorry about what happened. I hope we can still be friends someday. Love, Avalyn."

I sighed and slipped it into the glove box. I thought about maybe calling her or writing back, but my throat went dry when I realized that she would ask me about what I'd learned. I would have to either lie and tell her I'd been abducted or tell her the truth. I wasn't sure which idea was more horrifying.

The last thing was a plain white envelope with my name scrawled across the front in black magic marker. I opened it gingerly and pulled out a piece of notebook paper that had something scratched out over the first half of the paper and at the bottom had the words, "If you need anything I'll always be here for you. All you have to do is ask. ERIC"

Finally, I felt a little bit of relief, even if it was only for a passing moment. I turned it over on the back and discovered in pen, "Meet me at the park tomorrow if you wanna talk about it. You know the one."

---

I pulled to a stop just a short distance away from the swing set that Eric had pointed out to me just before my meeting with Neil McCormick. Neil had sold his body at this park. I thought Eric might have been trying to remind me that my life had turned out marginally better than Neil's, and then I thought that he might have been there waiting for Neil.

Eric was standing on the swing's seat, rocking lightly back and forth. He gripped a bottle of some sort of hard liquor with one hand, holding tightly to the chain with the other. His back was to me, and I could hear him humming one of the songs about despair that he liked so much, the kind of songs that were on the cassette tapes I'd bought him for his gift.

"Hey," I greeted nervously. I didn't know how much he knew.

He nearly fell off the swing, spilling alcohol all over the fallen snow. He looked over his shoulder and smiled a genuine smile of relief. "Brian," he said.

I nodded another hello and took a seat on the swing next to his. He sat down as well, kicking tiny snow drifts with the toes of his combat boots. "How are you?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

I looked over at him, planning to give him the "I'm fine" that I'd given to my sister and mother so many times that morning… but when I looked into his eyes, my mouth curved into a hard frown, my vision blurred, and all I could do was shake my head.

He stood and pressed my head to his stomach, stroking my hair like… like Neil had that night.

"Stop," I said, and he did without hesitation, as if he knew how I was feeling about being touched. I wiped my eyes with the heels of my hands, sniffed, and asked, in a slightly more controlled voice, "what did Neil tell you about last night?"

"Nothin'," he replied, and I knew he was telling the truth because I knew he wouldn't lie to me. "He never tells me anything. You know that."

"Is he coming here?" I asked, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

Eric shook his head and took a swig out of the bottle. "Doubt it. I didn't tell him to come here. We can go get him if you want to talk to him though."

"No, that's okay…" I said, and he sat back down on the swing. There was a long moment where we just sat there, staring out into the innocent white snow at the playground where innocent children had played. I thought about Neil and how he had waited for men to take him and fuck him for money. I'd thought that a male being a prostitute was weird, but after I met Neil, it seemed apparent from the very moment I'd laid eyes on him. It had almost been like it had been programmed into him since he was a child, like his body was meant to be fondled and kissed and all kind of other things that I didn't want to think of too much. He had a swagger when he walked, a swagger of some kind of experience that I knew he had. The air around him was charged with sex, that being the only appropriate word I could come up with to define it. His eyes were dark though, and there was a hollowness in his throat that gave off the impression of someone who had been dropped to the ground and shattered before being glued back together with pieces in the wrong place or just plain missing. I was sure that he didn't know that I could see it, and I was sure that lots of people didn't. I knew though. I knew because I knew what it felt like to be broken. I wondered if anyone would be able to stitch me back together.

"So…" Eric started after the silence had dragged on too long. "Do you want to… you know, talk about it?" He followed the question with another long gulp from the bottle. His voice was already slurring a little.

"Why are you drinking that?" I asked. "Alcohol actually makes you freeze more easily."

He smirked, but it was halfhearted at best. "I like to live dangerously… but seriously, I couldn't drink back at the grannies' place. It's just my X-mas send off to my parents. I feel like someone should be drinking on their behalves. That's what people do when they're depressed and miss people, right?"

"I don't know," I said honestly.

Eric swigged out of the bottle again and then set it into the snow. "I know you're not okay, but do you think you ever will be?"

"I don't know," I said again. "It's like nothing makes sense anymore."

"Yeah," Eric nodded. "I can't begin to understand how it feels… but I imagine it's a lot like how it was when my folks were killed in that car crash. You just never thought it could happen to you, and you're full of grieving and all that unpleasant shit, and you can't even remember what happiness feels like. You feel like your life lost control or meaning or something, and you just want to go to sleep and hope when you wake up that it was all some really shitty dream."

My eyes welled up with tears again. "Kind of," I said. I looked down at my feet which, in my tennis shoes, were starting to go numb. "Oh… I got you these…" I mumbled, changing the subject, and handed him the tapes. "Merry Christmas, Eric."

He smiled, running his fingers over them, reading the track names. "You didn't have to get me anything, Brian."

"Sure I did," I said, smiling, and I wondered how sad it looked by the look on his face in response, "you're my best friend."

He looked like he would cry then too, and then he looked like he wanted to hug me, but instead he just placed a palm on my shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. "That's better than any gift you could have given me, you know? No one's ever said I was their best friend before."

"What about Neil?"

"Neil's best friend is Wendy."

I'd heard some things about Wendy, but at that moment, I was beginning to think it was weird to imagine Neil being close to anyone at all. I figured that Eric considered Neil his best friend, but I knew that Neil probably didn't feel the same way. I wondered why I'd even asked. I thought that maybe I was just enjoying the appreciative gaze Eric was giving me. It made me feel like I was worth… something…

I knew that, even if I never had a good Christmas ever again, I'd definitely want to make sure Eric did. He was the only one who made me feel any good about myself, and, though it may have been selfish, I was more than willing to take him up on the offer of taking anything I needed from Eric. I wanted to keep him around as long as possible.

Forever, if I had to…