Post by TUESDAY DAVENPORT on Aug 19, 2011 0:05:24 GMT -5
The younger Davenport twin leaned back in his chair, dragging his hands over his face and feeling like one of those lobsters people ate on the Fourth of July: empty, mutilated, and totally wiped. Tuesday’s senses and emotions were about 40 steps behind him, bombarded with more stimuli than any event had ever shoved at him in his life. His brain and generally reliable instincts were giving him absolutely no indication on how to react to any of this, how to fix his brother, to fix himself, to fix his brother and himself, and in his primal nakedness he’d resorted to breaking the hell down, blabbering on like a baby and probably doing more damage than good.
Tuesday just needed time. He just needed to find some corner somewhere and curl up in a tight ball and cry until there was no water left inside him and he had to go to the hospital for dehydration like that one Nicholas Cage movie with Sirius Black and the gray robot things. Every moment of his life since this afternoon at the Bridge had been panic, frantic dashes to action, speaking in a furious rush to fill silence with words, silence that could otherwise cause problems and break this fragile bond that they were slowly fixing. He needed to think, that was what he needed. He needed to hang out in his own head for a while, assess the situation, figure out how exactly he was supposed to be feeling, and how exactly he was supposed to be reacting.
Think. Tuesday Davenport didn’t think. Tuesday lived in the moment, taking everything as it came. Thursday did the thinking. Part of him thought this was so weird, all of this stuff changing in such a short amount of time. And yet, part of him was hoping, more vehemently than he’d ever hoped for anything else, that nothing was going to change. That they’d always be the same, teenagers on the brink of adulthood existing in a universe where they never had to worry about anything but which window was the least likely to have a security alarm tucked behind it. This was just a speed bump, and they’d get back on the main road soon, right? Right? Right. Solid.
“Y-you shouldn’t...blame yourself so much,” his brother whispered back. “We...we both fucked up...I was...I don’t even...I was such a little bitch, I should have just...” He didn’t want to let Thursday keep on believing this bullshit he was spewing, because he hadn’t been a little bitch, not at all, he’d never, ever, ever said anything or done anything that had ever made Tuesday feel anything less than embarrassing amounts of affection for him. But Tuesday didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. He just shook his head and stared at his brother’s bedsheets, still trying to grasp exactly what the fuck he was supposed to say or do or feel or think. No class at Baum Academy could have ever prepared him for a shock like this. “B-but...” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I...I don’t want to be alone again...”
“You won’t be. Never, ever. Bro, I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again, alright? In a…non-creepy way.” He let a pathetic laugh escape his lips.
“I’d trust you with anything, Tuesday...I love you more than, like...anything...ever. And, I...I-I know you have friends, and I can...I mean, I know I’m not good at...fuck.” A little sound of frustration escaped him. “I know I’m not good at...at making friends and stuff when you’re not around, but...but you shouldn’t be responsible for me all the time, so that’s my fault, I mean...I don’t want to be a burden or anything, you deserve to have people besides me, you’re so...” He sighed. “You’re so much cooler than me.”
“You have friends, Thursday.” He could feel their conversation advancing a centimeter on the road towards their usual, casual banter. Given, the road was about sixteen miles long, but still, progress was progress. The two of them didn’t see each other much during the year, but like, come on. Thursday was so smart and good looking and not at all lame and lazy like he was. It was impossible for him not to have friends. “I couldn’t be as cool as you if I, uh, lived in Antarctica…” He rolled his eyes at himself. “And anyways, you always…you always have me. And I…” I love you. He’d said that so many times at this point, he figured he should give it a rest.
“It’s...it’s awesome, bro,” he said honestly, looking up at him with a wide smile on his face that was distinctly Thursday – a smile that hadn’t been witnessed in a very long time. “I love it. I’m never taking it off.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Tuesday could feel himself getting teary again, and wrestled with his overbearing emotions to keep from choking on his words. “Never. Even in gym class, when that tall dude says we have to take off all jewelry to participate or whatever. I’ll sit on the sidelines and totally fail the class.” He clutched the pendant between his fingers. Maybe things would be okay after all.
Tuesday glanced out the window where the sun was setting over the New York City skyline. His eyes fell on his brother, as pale as that creepy little girl in that movie The Orphan except without the blood and dead bodies everywhere, crumpled like a lifeless ragdoll against his bed. Tuesday was so wiped from just like, sitting here and bawling like a baby, and Thursday had spent the last day being poked and prodded like a pincushion…”Bro, you must be exhausted.” Tuesday hugged his knees again, suddenly feeling weirdly cold, and forced another smile. “It’s gonna be okay, alright?”He said it to himself as much as to his brother. He just needed to hear the words out loud.
This was kind of like that poem, he thought to himself absentmindedly as he kicked his chair back onto two legs, the silent tears reclaiming his face with no opposition this time. That one that Thursday had always read aloud when they were little kids, and he’d learned to read before Tuesday had even cared what a book was. Something about Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee agreeing to have a battle, because Tweedle Dum didn’t like something that Tweedle Dee had done, and then something something something else, and then they’d…forgotten their quarrel. Forgotten everything that had divided them in the first place. Because they were brothers, and that was what brothers did.
That was a cute little story, Tuesday thought to himself as he dozed off, head slumped forward against his knees.
Tuesday just needed time. He just needed to find some corner somewhere and curl up in a tight ball and cry until there was no water left inside him and he had to go to the hospital for dehydration like that one Nicholas Cage movie with Sirius Black and the gray robot things. Every moment of his life since this afternoon at the Bridge had been panic, frantic dashes to action, speaking in a furious rush to fill silence with words, silence that could otherwise cause problems and break this fragile bond that they were slowly fixing. He needed to think, that was what he needed. He needed to hang out in his own head for a while, assess the situation, figure out how exactly he was supposed to be feeling, and how exactly he was supposed to be reacting.
Think. Tuesday Davenport didn’t think. Tuesday lived in the moment, taking everything as it came. Thursday did the thinking. Part of him thought this was so weird, all of this stuff changing in such a short amount of time. And yet, part of him was hoping, more vehemently than he’d ever hoped for anything else, that nothing was going to change. That they’d always be the same, teenagers on the brink of adulthood existing in a universe where they never had to worry about anything but which window was the least likely to have a security alarm tucked behind it. This was just a speed bump, and they’d get back on the main road soon, right? Right? Right. Solid.
“Y-you shouldn’t...blame yourself so much,” his brother whispered back. “We...we both fucked up...I was...I don’t even...I was such a little bitch, I should have just...” He didn’t want to let Thursday keep on believing this bullshit he was spewing, because he hadn’t been a little bitch, not at all, he’d never, ever, ever said anything or done anything that had ever made Tuesday feel anything less than embarrassing amounts of affection for him. But Tuesday didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. He just shook his head and stared at his brother’s bedsheets, still trying to grasp exactly what the fuck he was supposed to say or do or feel or think. No class at Baum Academy could have ever prepared him for a shock like this. “B-but...” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I...I don’t want to be alone again...”
“You won’t be. Never, ever. Bro, I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again, alright? In a…non-creepy way.” He let a pathetic laugh escape his lips.
“I’d trust you with anything, Tuesday...I love you more than, like...anything...ever. And, I...I-I know you have friends, and I can...I mean, I know I’m not good at...fuck.” A little sound of frustration escaped him. “I know I’m not good at...at making friends and stuff when you’re not around, but...but you shouldn’t be responsible for me all the time, so that’s my fault, I mean...I don’t want to be a burden or anything, you deserve to have people besides me, you’re so...” He sighed. “You’re so much cooler than me.”
“You have friends, Thursday.” He could feel their conversation advancing a centimeter on the road towards their usual, casual banter. Given, the road was about sixteen miles long, but still, progress was progress. The two of them didn’t see each other much during the year, but like, come on. Thursday was so smart and good looking and not at all lame and lazy like he was. It was impossible for him not to have friends. “I couldn’t be as cool as you if I, uh, lived in Antarctica…” He rolled his eyes at himself. “And anyways, you always…you always have me. And I…” I love you. He’d said that so many times at this point, he figured he should give it a rest.
“It’s...it’s awesome, bro,” he said honestly, looking up at him with a wide smile on his face that was distinctly Thursday – a smile that hadn’t been witnessed in a very long time. “I love it. I’m never taking it off.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Tuesday could feel himself getting teary again, and wrestled with his overbearing emotions to keep from choking on his words. “Never. Even in gym class, when that tall dude says we have to take off all jewelry to participate or whatever. I’ll sit on the sidelines and totally fail the class.” He clutched the pendant between his fingers. Maybe things would be okay after all.
Tuesday glanced out the window where the sun was setting over the New York City skyline. His eyes fell on his brother, as pale as that creepy little girl in that movie The Orphan except without the blood and dead bodies everywhere, crumpled like a lifeless ragdoll against his bed. Tuesday was so wiped from just like, sitting here and bawling like a baby, and Thursday had spent the last day being poked and prodded like a pincushion…”Bro, you must be exhausted.” Tuesday hugged his knees again, suddenly feeling weirdly cold, and forced another smile. “It’s gonna be okay, alright?”He said it to himself as much as to his brother. He just needed to hear the words out loud.
This was kind of like that poem, he thought to himself absentmindedly as he kicked his chair back onto two legs, the silent tears reclaiming his face with no opposition this time. That one that Thursday had always read aloud when they were little kids, and he’d learned to read before Tuesday had even cared what a book was. Something about Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee agreeing to have a battle, because Tweedle Dum didn’t like something that Tweedle Dee had done, and then something something something else, and then they’d…forgotten their quarrel. Forgotten everything that had divided them in the first place. Because they were brothers, and that was what brothers did.
That was a cute little story, Tuesday thought to himself as he dozed off, head slumped forward against his knees.
