Nighttime Dementia
II: He's Right, I Think
"Ah, I see that my sweet Nny has arrived home after a long day's journey of exploring the streets that you once caused mayhem on."
Reverend Meat's voice (which was actually Johnny's, but in the form of a miniature Burger Boy) flooded into Johnny's ears as the gaunt young man entered his rundown house. The first thing Johnny did was go into his room to change out of his wet clothes.
After seven long years of renewing himself, Johnny also rid his old high leather steel toe boots and the 'magic' logo-changing black shirt. Johnny's usual outfit now was a pair of worn out, patchy, black (practically grey now after so many uses) pair of jeans that was ripped and frayed at the bottom. He wore a simple t-shirt that had thick horizontal black and white stripes. Simple black, sturdy leather boots covered his feet, and it only went up to his ankles this time. He usually covered it all with his black trench coat, which seemed to dry quickly after being wet, no matter what liquid, either rain, or blood, it didn't matter. Even though his outfit looked less 'original' than before, he still stood out amidst a crowd.
Johnny stepped out of his room, looking exactly the same as before, just dryer. He tugged absently at his coat collar as he shot a defiant chocolate brown glare at the miniature statue standing on the box of nails a few feet away from her.
"Been feeling anything lately? Lonely, hungry, aroused? Anything HUMAN in you lately, Johnny?" Reverend Meat taunted, holding the burger a little higher than he usually did. Johnny scoffed and crossed his skinny arms.
"No, as a matter of fact, I'm not feeling anything at all at the moment, except a little annoyed. I'm annoyed at you for trying to coax me into giving into my feelings again." He grumbled, and kicked Mr. Samsa, who just happened to be crawling on the floor in front of him.
"Oh yeah? How about Devi? How's she been these days?" Reverent Meat asked in a daring sort of way. Johnny's glare intensified and he balled his hands into tight fists.
"You SHUT UP. You just shut the FUCK up, okay?" Johnny screamed. He grabbed Reverent Meat in his hands and shook him violently. As always, the statue showed no emotion, but it spoke. Oh, it spoke alright.
"Ah, so you HAVE been thinking of the girl. It figures." He replied as-a-matter-of-factly. Johnny made a face of disgust and threw Reverend Meat on the old couch, the same couch where he and she sat that fateful night…
No, NO! He mustn't let these thoughts plague his mind. Shut yourself off to all emotion. Shut yourself off to all emotion. You are cold and senseless, cold and senseless. You only need to do what it takes, not all the extra shit in between. You are an insect. You are as cold as the pale moon. Do not let your emotions cloud your path again. DON'T.
Johnny clasped his head in his claw-like hands and rocked it gently. He was inwardly persuading himself to shut down. He was completely aware of the Burger Boy watching him from the couch.
"It's not gonna happen, my dear Nny. Stop giving yourself false hope. You can't wish away your feelings just like that."
"Yes I can. I've done it before. I've been doing this for seven years, you despicable burger eating person! I CAN DO THIS!" Johnny screamed, and he clamped his eyes shut, forcing the thoughts out of his head. But as hard as he tried, they couldn't leave. They wouldn't leave.
He couldn't scrub the stain off the wall.
"I told you Nny; it's impossible to abandon your emotions. You were born to feel. You are a human being. Humans are born with feelings and thoughts. You can't throw them away." Reverend Meat explained. Johnny wiped the tears of frustration from his cloudy chestnut eyes and turned to stare at the statue, who somehow got up and was sitting casually on the couch's armrest.
"I do not feel. I do not give into desire. I do what I do to survive. I don't do anything else just because I want to." Johnny explained bluntly, his voice calloused. Reverend Meat continued staring back at Johnny with huge, expressionless eyes.
"Nny, Nny, what am I ever to do with you? I know the Doughboys fucked you up, but they're figments of the past. I can help you Johnny, I can help you! I won't tell you to kill yourself like what the Doughboys did. I'm different from them, Nny, I really am!"
Johnny shook his head, his spiky locks swaying wildly. His hair fell into his eyes as his glare strengthened.
"I don't need your help. I'm capable of helping myself." Johnny grumbled.
"If you can really help yourself, then you would've let go of Devi (Johnny twitched at the mention of her name) a long time ago! Just admit it Johnny; you want her. You love her!" Reverend Meat exclaimed. Johnny screamed in outrage and stomped the floor like a child having a temper tantrum.
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! I don't even know why I came back here! FUCK YOU, MEAT!" Johnny screamed, and began heading for the door. Reverend Meat's last words rang into Johnny's ears before he even thought of reaching for the doorknob.
"Don't deny your feelings for her Johnny. They'll continue growing until they devour you whole."
Reverend Meat didn't say anything else. Johnny spun on his heel to face the small statue with the burger propped up on one hand.
"…Meat? Hello, are you still there?" Johnny asked. He tapped the statue's head a few times before giving up. The ashen light of the moon began leaking through the cracks between the boarded up windows, and it indicated that the rain had stopped.
Johnny opened the front door and breathed in the cool air. He couldn't stand that stupid Reverend Meat guy. It was because of that demented burger boy statue that Johnny rarely came home.
An hour passed and Johnny C. found himself in the midst of the residential side of the city. Tall apartment buildings towered over him, and it sort of made him feel dizzy just by looking at them. He then realized where he really was.
It wasn't just the residential area of the dirty, senile city.
It was also Devi's neighourbood complex.
--
It has been a while since Devi listened to actual music with words in it. She was listening to an old radio station she used to listen to in her teens. Right now Hawthorne Heights' Screenwriting an Apology was blasting through the speakers of her small radio as she dabbed her worn out paintbrush into her palette of indigo paint.
Exchange the sunshine for brown eyes and dark skies,
Replace this dull life with you.
I know it's tomorrow,
She's waiting for something to feel alive.
She had another dream.
She remembered a bit more of the image she was dying to paint.
It was a clear night sky. It was contaminated with glittering stars and a bright full moon.
It was a little breezy.
There was a cliff…
And then she stopped thinking. Another mind block wedged into her brain and it stopped her thoughts dead in their tracks. Devi cursed in frustration and set the palette down to rest her head a little. She poured herself a little bit of cheap champagne that was sitting idly on the coffee table and plopped down on the couch, sipping from her glass as she did so. Her jaded green eyes slid over to her painting, which was surprisingly starting to cover quite a bit of the canvas now.
She spent the past few hours painting a beautiful night sky. It was swirled in different shades of blue and purple, and it faded to black as it slowly reached to the top end of the canvas. She dotted it with little white and pale yellow stars. In the top left corner was a blob of white mixed with some creamy colour, which was meant to be the moon.
Sadly, Devi couldn't remember what was under that night sky, except her of course. If she wasn't there then the image wouldn't be of much importance.
Immortalizing the moment.
She was freezing a perfect moment in the shape of a painting. She captured something that would be forever burned in her brain into a visual so that she could look at it just in case she became absent minded.
If only she could remember ALL of it…
--
He remembered where her apartment was. He even remembered the floor and the door number. He remembered everything, and it scared him. He wanted to forget…he wanted to forget so badly.
He never knew his brain stored things he didn't take notice of.
For some reason Johnny found himself standing a foot away from her door. His heart was pounding furiously and his hands were clenched in sweaty, trembling fists.
What was he doing here?
She'd never accept him back, not after what he attempted to do.
But that was seven years ago…
Bury the hatchet. Stow it in the closet. Maybe she's forgotten all about it.
You have to at least try.
No, no! Don't give in. You only do what you NEED to do, not what you WANT to do. C'mon Johnny, get your head straight!
But Devi…she's…she's different…
Johnny mentally slapped himself and took a small step backwards. He was shaking so much he almost stumbled to the floor.
C'mon…just knock. One knock won't hurt.
He shook and clutched his head. He really had to stop talking to himself.
He wasn't going to give in.
He was cold, emotionless, and senseless, just like Mr. Samsa. He wasn't a vile, selfish, mundane human being.
He was a flusher. He wasn't like everyone else.
But she isn't like everyone else either. She's special. She stands out to you.
Johnny's arm began moving on its own. It was reaching for the door. He didn't know whether it was him or something else that was reaching for the door.
What the hell am I doing? Oh my God. Stop…STOP!
It was too late. Johnny's hand was rapping against the wooden door. His wide eyes widened even more and a tiny squee! erupted from his lips.
He heard the turning of the doorknob. Run, Johnny, run!
And just like that, Johnny C. raced down the hallway and disappeared.
--
"…Fucking pranksters. Stupid teenagers."
Devi slammed the door in frustration. Her champagne sloshed around in her glass as she stormed back to her resting spot on the couch. The anger soon passed though, because the rain finally stopped and a dim sunlight peered through the window. Devi rose from the couch to look outside.
It was dripping wet outside, but the sky was finally clearing up and there was a tiny bit of sun coming out from one of the clouds. Devi smiled to herself; she hasn't seen a sunny day in this city for awhile. She looked across the street and eyed the people that were walking, only to have her pupils shrink back in horror.
There was a single twig-like man walking quickly down the sidewalk with his hands shoved in his pockets. His messy, spiky hair moved slightly in the wind. He gave everyone that passed him a deadly glare, as if he was making a mental note to kill them later on.
He was dressed differently, but Devi knew who he was.
It was Jonathan C.
Johnny.
Nny.