Angel Boy (2/?)
A 7th Heaven Fan Fiction by CeruleanOctober
See chapter 1 for disclaimers and such.
This fic is leaning toward a Joan Of Arcadia crossover, just so you know. That won't happen for several chapters, but it is in the cards.
Angel Boy
Chapter 2/?
"And?" Connor asks, his eyes wide.
I shrug. "And then I heard the car in the driveway, so I went to my room and pretended I'd been asleep all afternoon."
"You didn't say anything to them?"
"What could I say? 'Oh, hey, Mom. Dad. I was snooping around in your room and I found your diary, Mom. So, why didn't you tell me about my twin brother?'"
He looks perplexed at that. I sigh. He looks at the ground, digs his toe in the dirt. "So, ah, what are you going to do now?"
I catch myself shrugging again. And sighing. "I don't know. I don't really want to go home. They lied to me. My whole life. It's all a lie. I wish I was old enough to leave."
"Well, you could come to my house for a little while. I have something that might help you forget how angry and unsettled you feel."
Angry and unsettled. That's exactly how I feel. "Okay," I say, even though I know it's probably drugs he's talking about and I don't want to do drugs. But maybe just going home with him, hanging out with him, will be enough.
And maybe I'm wrong about the drug thing. Connor isn't a druggie. I don't know why I even thought that. He wouldn't have drugs, wouldn't offer drugs to me. And he has to know I wouldn't take them if he did offer them.
Whiskey on the other hand…looks really tempting. Connor puts the glass in front of me, a dark, mysterious looking liquid. He tells me there are no answers in the bottom of the glass, only sweet oblivion. No answers, and no questions either.
So I take a sip. Just a sip. And it burns. Like fire. All the way down. But in a weird way it feels good too. Like a peacefulness washing over me. It spreads through me. Warm, soothing.
I emptied the glass, and Connor refilled it before I could form the words to ask.
My parents would kill me if they knew what I am doing. And for the first time in my life I don't care. I don't care what the think. I don't care if I've suddenly become the biggest disappointment in their lives. I just don't care.
I don't care if I never see them again. I never want to see any of them. Ever. Not my parents, not Matt or Mary or Lucy who must have known there were two babies. The had to know. How could they not know? And I don't want to see Ruthie or Sam and David. I really don't want to see Sam and David.
How could my parents keep this from me? They should have told me. Especially after Sam and David were born. How could they watch me with them, holding them, playing with them, fascinated by them? How could they watch me with them, my little twin brothers., and not tell me about my own twin?
I wondered if they would have called him Joshua or just Josh. Probably Joshua. I would have called him Josh. And he would have been popular, one of the cool kids at school. Like Connor.
Connor promised sweet oblivion in the whiskey. No answers, no questions. But my mind seemed sharper, more aware. And suddenly aware that he is here. Sitting across from me at Connor's kitchen table.
I look around, frantically, over my shoulder. Connor is gone. It's just me an…and him. Josh.
"You shouldn't be doing that."
"I want to."
"Why?"
I stare at him. I can not believe I am talking to him. "Shut up. You're not real." His eyes are lighter than mine. Almost clear blue. Iridescent.
"Then why are you talking to me?"
"Because…because…I'm not. Okay. I'm not talking to you." Wherever Connor went he must have taken the whiskey with him. I stand. There must be more. Maybe in the pantry. Bingo. A whole shelf of bottles. Whiskey, rum, vodka. Everything. And I want it all.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm thirsty."
"Sit down."
I look over my shoulder. Connor. No Josh. I sigh and sit back down at the table.
"You want something stronger?"
I nod. "I want that sweet oblivion you were talking about."
"Give it time." He pulls several bottles out, puts them on the counter.
"How long?"
"Not long. Here. Drink this." He hands me a new glass.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
My head hurts. Really hurts. Hurts so bad I want to die. Someone please, put a pillow over my face and let me die. I don't want to open my eyes. I can tell the room is spinning. I feel like I'm on a merry-go-round and it's spinning out of control.
I feel a hand on my forehead. I crack one eye open. No one is there. Duh. It's my hand. I close the eye. And then panic thunders through me. Where am I? This isn't my room, not my bed. I have no idea where I am.
I try to sit up and open my eyes at the same time. Big mistake. My stomach heaves. I press my hand to my mouth, but it's no use. And once I've puked, I fall back on the pillows.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," a voice I know but can't place assaults my ears. I don't dare open my eyes. "How do you feel."
"Dead."
"I bet." The hand on my forehead now is not my own. Connor. "You need a shower."
"I can't move."
"Well, you have to. You need a shower, then I have to get you home."
Home. Mom. Dad. Lies.
"Just let me die."
"Ha. You wish. Come on. Get up."
"I don't think that's such a good idea."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
End chapter 2. Please R/R. You know you want to. Just take a couple seconds, hit review, and let me know what you think. Thanks!
A 7th Heaven Fan Fiction by CeruleanOctober
See chapter 1 for disclaimers and such.
This fic is leaning toward a Joan Of Arcadia crossover, just so you know. That won't happen for several chapters, but it is in the cards.
Angel Boy
Chapter 2/?
"And?" Connor asks, his eyes wide.
I shrug. "And then I heard the car in the driveway, so I went to my room and pretended I'd been asleep all afternoon."
"You didn't say anything to them?"
"What could I say? 'Oh, hey, Mom. Dad. I was snooping around in your room and I found your diary, Mom. So, why didn't you tell me about my twin brother?'"
He looks perplexed at that. I sigh. He looks at the ground, digs his toe in the dirt. "So, ah, what are you going to do now?"
I catch myself shrugging again. And sighing. "I don't know. I don't really want to go home. They lied to me. My whole life. It's all a lie. I wish I was old enough to leave."
"Well, you could come to my house for a little while. I have something that might help you forget how angry and unsettled you feel."
Angry and unsettled. That's exactly how I feel. "Okay," I say, even though I know it's probably drugs he's talking about and I don't want to do drugs. But maybe just going home with him, hanging out with him, will be enough.
And maybe I'm wrong about the drug thing. Connor isn't a druggie. I don't know why I even thought that. He wouldn't have drugs, wouldn't offer drugs to me. And he has to know I wouldn't take them if he did offer them.
Whiskey on the other hand…looks really tempting. Connor puts the glass in front of me, a dark, mysterious looking liquid. He tells me there are no answers in the bottom of the glass, only sweet oblivion. No answers, and no questions either.
So I take a sip. Just a sip. And it burns. Like fire. All the way down. But in a weird way it feels good too. Like a peacefulness washing over me. It spreads through me. Warm, soothing.
I emptied the glass, and Connor refilled it before I could form the words to ask.
My parents would kill me if they knew what I am doing. And for the first time in my life I don't care. I don't care what the think. I don't care if I've suddenly become the biggest disappointment in their lives. I just don't care.
I don't care if I never see them again. I never want to see any of them. Ever. Not my parents, not Matt or Mary or Lucy who must have known there were two babies. The had to know. How could they not know? And I don't want to see Ruthie or Sam and David. I really don't want to see Sam and David.
How could my parents keep this from me? They should have told me. Especially after Sam and David were born. How could they watch me with them, holding them, playing with them, fascinated by them? How could they watch me with them, my little twin brothers., and not tell me about my own twin?
I wondered if they would have called him Joshua or just Josh. Probably Joshua. I would have called him Josh. And he would have been popular, one of the cool kids at school. Like Connor.
Connor promised sweet oblivion in the whiskey. No answers, no questions. But my mind seemed sharper, more aware. And suddenly aware that he is here. Sitting across from me at Connor's kitchen table.
I look around, frantically, over my shoulder. Connor is gone. It's just me an…and him. Josh.
"You shouldn't be doing that."
"I want to."
"Why?"
I stare at him. I can not believe I am talking to him. "Shut up. You're not real." His eyes are lighter than mine. Almost clear blue. Iridescent.
"Then why are you talking to me?"
"Because…because…I'm not. Okay. I'm not talking to you." Wherever Connor went he must have taken the whiskey with him. I stand. There must be more. Maybe in the pantry. Bingo. A whole shelf of bottles. Whiskey, rum, vodka. Everything. And I want it all.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm thirsty."
"Sit down."
I look over my shoulder. Connor. No Josh. I sigh and sit back down at the table.
"You want something stronger?"
I nod. "I want that sweet oblivion you were talking about."
"Give it time." He pulls several bottles out, puts them on the counter.
"How long?"
"Not long. Here. Drink this." He hands me a new glass.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
My head hurts. Really hurts. Hurts so bad I want to die. Someone please, put a pillow over my face and let me die. I don't want to open my eyes. I can tell the room is spinning. I feel like I'm on a merry-go-round and it's spinning out of control.
I feel a hand on my forehead. I crack one eye open. No one is there. Duh. It's my hand. I close the eye. And then panic thunders through me. Where am I? This isn't my room, not my bed. I have no idea where I am.
I try to sit up and open my eyes at the same time. Big mistake. My stomach heaves. I press my hand to my mouth, but it's no use. And once I've puked, I fall back on the pillows.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," a voice I know but can't place assaults my ears. I don't dare open my eyes. "How do you feel."
"Dead."
"I bet." The hand on my forehead now is not my own. Connor. "You need a shower."
"I can't move."
"Well, you have to. You need a shower, then I have to get you home."
Home. Mom. Dad. Lies.
"Just let me die."
"Ha. You wish. Come on. Get up."
"I don't think that's such a good idea."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
End chapter 2. Please R/R. You know you want to. Just take a couple seconds, hit review, and let me know what you think. Thanks!