Counterfeit Reality: Schizophrenic
Chapter Four: Faint
.oakaT ikoA ot sgnoleb spot ynnips eht fo tpecnoc ehT .initraM ennA ainoS snwo eaS-eriftipS dna, eeL-notserP ybriK snwo ytinasnI-derdniK, tnarG nipsA snwo elreminA, ayimoniK imayiM snwo ratS-ykculnU, oteaK okikA orehahS snwo srooC, nosneB eiraM rebmA snwo neidaZ .veayleB irtimyD atsirA nwo I :remialcsiD
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I greatly appreciate it. If you review you get candy canes in honour of Christmas. Anyways, sorrt it took so long with chapter four. I had writers block which is an ass and a half. Happy reading.
Leoparda: Here's the update. I'll try putting in some action, although this ficlet is mostly drama & angst. Thankies for the review.
la-de-da: Hey! Reviews aren't/weren 't the problem. I had writer's block for ahwile. I'm glad you like it so much, anywho, here's chapter four as promised.
Anonymous: Your imigination isn't limited. Hehe, I'm happy you like my work so much. Enjoy!
Angelic Hart: Brooklyn and Mystel just need a shove in the right direction, which they get soon enough. Happy reading!
Twerp: Er, it's not on hold anymore. Sorry. It prolly isn't/wasn't your last review unless the aliens abducted you... lol. I understand what you mean about authors/esses never updating or deleting their fics. Anyways, here's chapter four. Read and enjoy.
Spazzy'z Girl: I'm happy you like it so much, it's not on hold anymore though. Happy reading.
Mikel's eyes darkened, his blue orbs clouded with a storm of grey haze. He was pretty even-tempered, except when it came to his property. What was his nobody else could have. He was pissed big time, all because Brooklyn couldn't keep his hands away from Kirby.
Kirby Preston-Lee was his girlfriend, therefore his. No one was going to take her away. His lips formed into a sneer. He quickly covered the distance between himself and the trio on the parking lot.
Mikel shoved Brooklyn, pushing him aside. Brooklyn rolled his eyes and shook it off. He was used to this sort of thing from the blonde.
"What the hell do you think your doing, Adams?" His voice was sharp, layered with ice.
"Hi Mik."
Kirby pressed her lips to the platinum blondes, soothing his racing heartbeat into a lull. Mikel slipped his arms around her waist, while her arms encircled his neck, playing with the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. Mikel separated his mouth from hers and smiled, content. His boiling anger simmered to a stew.
Brooklyn rolled his eyes, yawned. "Don't you get tired of showing off?"
Mikel turned abruptly to the redhead. He levelled his eyes to meet the moss green of the male in front of him. "Don't you two get tired of being freaks?"
Mystel snorted. "If we were freaks we would be like you."
Mystel's eyes narrowed, rounding on Mikel. Mikel slowly released his grip on Kirby, locking his eyes to Brooklyn's. "Does he come with a manual?"
"Yeah, there are two options. Number one, punch, and number two, kick. Would you like a demonstration, or are you afraid you'll ruin your clothes?"
"Is that a challenge?" Mikel asked, pleased that he would get the chance to beat the shit out of Adams.
If those two thought that they could beat him, they were sorely mistaken. Being on the football team had its many pros. Mikel flexed his arms, stretching his hands. His bones cracked in the silence.
"Bring it on." He launched himself at Adams, connecting his fist with the redhead's jaw.
Brooklyn stuttered back, his head tilted up at an angle. Blood sputtered from his mouth, trickling from his mouth. He brought his head down, smirking, and took a fighter's stance, poised for battle.
Mikel laughed at Brooklyn. His voice was cut short by Brooklyn's fists. He repeatedly punched Mikel's gut, erupting a long, low groan of pain. He twisted the blonde's wrist, making him wince in pain.
Struggling to escape the fiery pain that shot down the length of his arm, Mikel used his leg to make a round the house kick to Brooklyn's neck. Brooklyn let go of Mikel's wrist and stumbled back in pain, tripping under his feet. Brooklyn landed on the pavement with a thud.
"This is too easy." Mikel smirked.
Kirby pushed Mikel, but had no effect. "What are you fighting for?" She yelled, she didn't wait for an answer, instead turned to Brooklyn and helped him up. Because of his fragile state of mind, she was worried about him and his well being.
Mikel's face darkened, a mixture of shock and disbelief. What had just happened? Rejected, he turned to go but felt a hand on his wrist. He faced crimson eyes, lightly outlined in black. The sleek, forest green hair, streaked with electric blue and lustrous black, shone in the sunlight. He couldn't help but melt at Kirby's saddened smile.
He stroked her cheek and clasped his hand in hers. He pulled her into a hug, wrapping a sheet of warmth around her.
The two walked hand in hand, away from the duo left together in the parking lot. Mystel took out a rolled joint from his jeans pocket, passed it to Brooklyn. Brooklyn took a long drag, breathing out smoke.
His lungs filled with smoke, sending his brain spiralling into a darkened void. He sighed, momentarily forgetting his problems. This was why he'd turned to drugs. He could escape from this Hell on earth. Where no one but Mystel and his grandparents cared about him, a place where Kirby loved Mikel. When he was wasted, he could escape from his problems, not having to deal with them. And so he took another drag, long and mournful. How pathetic was he? Running away again. Always running away. He could never stand up for himself, never escape the pain of his lie.
He passed the joint to Mystel, reflecting on his thoughts as best he could, his brain still fuzzy. When Mikel degraded him, labelling him a 'freak', it hurt. The mean words and comments sliced through him, leaving him broken. Like glass, strong and hard, but when broken or beat upon, would shatter into a thousand pieces. No matter how many times he heard them, he would never get used to the taunting and cruelty of the world.
How had everything gotten so complicated? It was only the end of the first week back to school, and he'd already gotten suspended for being under the influence on school property. He shook his head, shaking loose strands of silky ginger hair. He took the keys out of his pocket and inserted the key into the car's lock, opening it and getting inside.
Mystel threw the used joint on the floor, squished it, putting it out. He opened the car door and got inside the passenger's side. Closing the door, he rolled down the window.
Brooklyn started the engine, and turned on the stereo. He searched through his cd collection to find his Meteora cd. He slid it into the drive and pushed play, skipping to song number seven. The music blasted through the stereo's speakers.
I am, a little bit of loneliness
A little bit of disregard
Handful of complaints
But I can't help the fact
That everybody can see these scars
I am, what I want you to want
What I want you to feel
But it's like no matter what I do
I can't convince you,
To just believe this is real
So I let go, watching you
Turn your back like you always do
Face away and pretend that I'm not
But I'll be here cause
You're all that I've got
Brooklyn listened to the lyrics, soaking up their security. A sense of sanctuary surrounding him, making him feel wanted. He portrayed a picture in his mine, of what it would have been like if his parents were still here to help him. Be with him, nurture him, and love him.
I can't feel (The way I did before)
Don't turn your back on me
I won't be ignored
Time won't change (This damage anymore)
Don't turn your back on me
I won't be ignored
Ignoring the pang of misery in his heart, he turned to Mystel, gave a genuine smile. "Thanks."
Mystel comprehended exactly what Brooklyn was telling him. No words were spoken, but a whole lifetime's worth of understanding was acknowledged in the instance their eyes met. As long as they had each other, they didn't need to deal with reality. No matter how much he longed to just be accepted, to feel like he belonged somewhere. Some things were worth sacrificing, his friendship with Brooklyn wasn't.
Arista sighed and waited for the end of her maths class. She stared at her notebook. What should have been math questions and answers were instead doodles of people and objects. Lyrics of her favourite songs cascaded in waves of letters and words. She frowned and rubbed out a picture a dragon. She had been watching Miyami draw beside her and had tried to mimic her cousin's drawings. Only she found she couldn't, so instead scribbled out the dragon.
Miyami sat beside her, in total concentration, drawing a picture of a dragon on a sheet of white paper. The dragon was long and slender, full of scales and taught skin. The head was sharply angled, it's mouth open in a snarl. Its eyes were full of what seemed to be anger. It's tiny arms ended in sharp, pointed claws, poised for slashing.
Arista watched mesmerized at how a human being could put so much detail into their drawings. Miyami started to draw chains around the dragon, ensnaring him and leaving him trapped by the metal. She had even drawn the spikes of skin along the length of him.
Johnny, who had been sleeping awoke when Arista poked him and pointed to Miyami's drawing. He grinned and watched the girl he liked continue drawing, not noticing the eyes on her.
He was intrigued by her, captured by her beauty and loyalty. She was always there for him when he needed her. Hell, she was there for everyone who needed her. But she had always told him that he could call her in the middle of the night and she'd be there. Their friendship was strong, the bonds had been forged when they were young.
His mind constantly wandered in her direction, he wondered what she thought of him. If she liked him or not. Thoughts of Miyami Kinomiya filtered through his brain at regular intervals, leaving him with the need of being with her, raw in his gut.
When she was hurt, it hurt him too. She didn't know it, but he loved her. More than anything. He wanted so bad to be more than friends, just as she secretly did too. He'd decided he would take it slow. Leave subtle hints and signs that he was interested in her as more than a friend. His violet eyes flowed with emotions in her direction.
Arista noticed the way that Johnny looked at Miyami. She knew he liked Miyami. Too bad he didn't know Miyami liked him back.
"Hey John-John, watcha lookin' at?"
"Huh?" He was snapped out of his thoughts by Arista's voice. When he looked at her, he could see the bug grin plastered on her lips.
"Don't! Don't even think about it." When she continued to grin, he narrowed his eyes for added effect.
"Done."
"Huh?" Arista looked at the picture that Miyami had drawn, she ran her gaze over the drawing in awe.
"That's really good, hey?" She punched Johnny to make sure he was looking at it and not the flustered female sitting beside her.
"Yeah. Wow, you're really good, Mimi."
Miyami blushed, and smiled. She put the paper down on her desk, along with the pencil. It rolled away, off the desk.
Johnny grabbed it just before it fell and handed it to Miyami. Their hands touched ever so slightly, sending jolts of electricity through each of them. They smiled sheepishly at each other and turned away.
Geez, Arista thought to herself. Couldn't they just go on a date and make out already? It was annoying her that they didn't know each other's feelings well enough to put it all together. Sometimes she wondered if she was the only one who wasn't insane.
The bell rang, shrill and high. All the students rushed out of the classroom with their things. Arista, Johnny, and Miyami all trooped out of the classroom slowly, dragging their bags behind them.
"Well, if it isn't Doom, Gloom, and... Doom." Shahero stated while she caught up with the three of them.
She had her hair in a ponytail for once. She was wearing the school uniform, except she had pants on underneath the skirt, and a black top with the words 'Parental Advisory' in white underneath the white blouse. Her jacket was tied around her small waste, falling off.
She pulled it tighter so it wouldn't fall, and smiled.
"I wanna be Doom. You can choose between Doom number II and Gloom." Johnny resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Arista's comment.
"I'm Doom number II." Miyami called out.
"Okay, fine then, I'll be Gloom." Johnny said in a depressingly sad voice.
Miyami snickered and patted his chest. The warmth of his body against her small hand was incredible. She let it linger a little before she removed it.
Shahero took out her cd player from her pants pocket, pulled the earphones over head, and pushed play. As soon as the cd started to spin inside the player, she began to sing.
Arista couldn't hear what Shahero was singing because she herself was yelling at the top of her lungs despite the many annoyed glances sent to her from the students in the halls.
"Mimi and J sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, and then comes Mimi with a baby carriage!"
"Stop being so goddamn cheeky!" Johnny hissed, hisScottish side showing.
He tried to grab a hold of Arista, but she was too quick for him and ran off down the hall, still singing. Unfortunately, she never tied her laces; always stuffing them in her shoes, so she tripped and fell.
Miyami laughed at the Russians misfortune. Arista sure was a comedy act, even without intending to be. Johnny snickered at her, glad that she had at least shut up now.
"Serves her right." He grumbled.
"Mmmn." Shahero made a vague sound.
Miyami stopped when she reached her locker and stuffed her bag in there, exchanging it for her skateboard. She searched around for her knee and elbow guards. When she found them she put them on and closed her locker after taking a swig of soda from an open pop bottle.
She shut her locker and waited for Amber to come around. Sure enough, there was Amber, sitting on Bryan's shoulders, shooting water from her water bottle. Since water guns weren't allowed she used the next best thing.
Bryan smirked at the victims of Amber and her water bottle.
"Just be glad it's not us." Shahero said in an undertone.
Amber jumped off her cousins' shoulders and smiled at her friends. She opened her locker and stuffed the now empty bottle in there, along with her notebooks, half of which had gone missing already.
Arista who had had no luck opening her own locker, stuffed her own bag in Amber's locker. Amber waited for Arista to finish shoving her things in before she closed her lock with a 'click'.
Bryan bent down as Amber jumped onto his shoulders. Johnny walked alongside Miyami, wrapped his arm around her casually. Arista rolled her eyes and linked arms with Shahero, singing the words to 'Take It Away'
Brooklyn moved sluggishly to his bed. Sitting down, he pulled the covers over his head, drowning in the warmth that surrounded him. His brain was misted and his hearing was anything but at it's best. If he died, would it even matter? Thoughts of suicide ran through his mind all day, eating away his insides until there was raw pain and hurt. What would it matter if one insignificant person died?
The truth was it wouldn't matter. At least he didn't think it would. He was only making the world a worse place to live in. So it didn't matter. Couldn't matter.
Delusion clouded his judgement until he was left with the same leaden guilt that claimed him every time. Whenever he was thinking too much about suicide. Thinking too deeply about another way out.
It spread like poison, until he found it hard to concentrate. He couldn't leave Mystel behind. He was too important, besides he'd been the only there for him. And with those last thoughts running through his mind his eyes fluttered closed. Sending him spiralling into his dreams and nightmares.
"Don't close your eyes." Someone whispered to him. "Whatever you do, don't close your eyes."
Brooklyn wandered through a maze, bits and pieces of his life flew by on silver wings. He frowned, was he supposed to care that the only girl that had liked him had moved away from him? That Kirby would always see him as a schizophrenic maniac? Was he supposed to care that his parents had left him behind? That he had no one but himself and Mystel?
How could he? Years of being a failure had led him to one conclusion; he was nothing. Had nothing, would never be anything. He would never be anything like he should have been. Like he wanted to be.
But it wasn't his fault, it wasn't! So why was he trying so hard to convince himself? Was it because he wanted so desperately to point the finger away from him? Blame someone else?
He couldn't stand the thought of wandering around in circles anymore. It was frustrating and taking all his strength just to stand up.
Dizzyingly he sat down on the soft, dewy grass. A cold wind ripped through him, making the trees sway in the wind. He pulled his arms tightly around him, hugging his knees. Burying his head and mass of hair on his lap. Rocking gently back and forth. Back and forth in the wind, back and forth.
He kept going on for what seemed to be hours. What felt like eternity. And when he was too tired to continue on he fell back onto the grass and lay limp. As still as he could. His chest rose and fell with every small breath he took. Closing his eyes, he wished it all away. Reality, it seemed, had it's own plans however, because he was floating around in mid-air when he reopened them.
Brooklyn flailed his arms around, looking at all the scars and cuts he'd inflicted upon himself over the years. It brought nothing but a sense of control. Something he had never accomplished without the sharp, pointed objects he speared into his skin when it was too much to handle.
His breathing was thicker, harder. He felt his lungs about to explode and when he found the air too thick to swallow, too hard to breathe, he screamed.
He couldn't take it and screamed to his hearts content. Brooklyn found himself falling into darkness. A black void, empty of anything. Sort of like his heart he thought sadistically. Because that was what it probably looked like, empty save for the few things he cared about.
Paranoid thoughts began to take their shape and form in his head. Someone was watching him suffer, watching him die from the inside out. Why was this happening to him? When they could help him, they watched him suffer instead. Laughter echoed in his mind, much unlike his own. But how could he tell? He hadn't laughed properly in years. This was too much for him to handle, too much for him to understand. Except, he thought, he would never truly understand.
Just when he thought it was over, he hovered a few feet over the ground. After falling for so long, being motionless in the air, he saw the earth underneath him. And as if someone was holding him, lowering him gently to the ground, he landed with both his feet on the ground, and his body in tact. A stinging sensation bubbled in his left arm, pin-pricks of pain shot through it before it went limp.
A pair of arms were visible around his waste, silvery in colour. A long flowing gown adorned the beholder of those small, silvery limbs. He tried to turn around, but found his feet planted to the ground. Since he couldn't move his legs he tried to turn his head.
Something soft and faintly wet touched his cheek. Feathers scattered in every possible direction. White, arch angel wings flickered in the air behind him. White surrounded him and everything else. His eyes traced the head and body of the angel, who was wrapped around him in a loving embrace.
Pale skin surrounded him or her, long hair cascaded in strands of silk. Their lips, Brooklyn realised, was what was on his cheek. A tiny blush worked his way up to his cheeks. Giving them colour and making him look semi-human. His eyes were closing, but this felt so good. So right.
He didn't want to wake up. Not now, not ever. The warmth seeped into his body, making him feel light-headed. This felt too good to be real. Just when he thought it wouldn't get any better he felt himself sprout wings of his own. It was awkward at first, but it felt right soon enough. He flapped his new wings and soared into the sky. The archangel right beside him.
Her face, he realised now after a quick glance at the long, shapely legs, and the small chest, was beautifully angelic. Graceful reveries suffocated his mind. All the pain in his heart slowly leaked away, leaving him feeling truly happy for the first in a long time.
The angel girl smiled at him and held onto his hands, slipping them around her small waist. She opened her eyes, so deeply blue and beautiful. Like the ocean, she blinked and put her arms around his neck.
He had never been intimate before and didn't really know how to respond. All he did was smile and look entranced into her blue, blue eyes. Never had he seen such exquisite eyes.
He found himself drowning in blueness, and then realised he was drowning in an ocean. He waved his arms around, felt them being weighed down by the water. He kicked his legs underneath him, struggling to keep afloat.
But he didn't have it in him, he didn't have the strength inside himself to keep going on. He looked around to see if he still had his wings. Only to find them turning black and dissipitating into darkness. And if things couldn't get worse, they were about to. The water crashed in tidal waves over him. He had once again been let down because the angel girl was nowhere to be seen. Ruthless laughter echoed relentlessly in his mind. And all he could think of was why was he trying in the first place?
Tired eyes opened sadly. Brooklyn looked around his surroundings, trying to make sense of what had happened. He was lying on the floor, his left arm weighed down by his blanket. All the warmth that was in him disappeared. His alarm clock buzzed in his ear, having fallen down when he bumped into the night table. He was left alone again. Just as he had a long, long time ago. He shivered and resisted the urge to get up. What was the point?