‘ IT’S JUST A QUESTION, MAN. thought maybe you shouldn’t be alone, after everything. ’ the wording isn’t a lie, but the implication is. the idea that you’re saying this out of concern, out of some bleeding heart sense of solidarity — you’re not. you’re saying this because you don’t trust him. because you know what he did, and you know what he’s doing ( you felt the punch of emphasis on each carefully chosen word, my friends, not that you give a shit, bet you’re glad ), and you’re repulsed by it, near to the point of physical illness. all you have is your word against his, and you don’t even have that.
you almost said fuck it a hundred times, almost told someone — the police, maybe, or maggie, just so she’d know, just so she wouldn’t have even a passing thought that brandon james was anything less than innocent, even if there was no proof — but you didn’t. like you didn’t beat brandon and never defended him, either. this is the routine, behavior ingrained as deep as your marrow : do nothing, say nothing. risk nothing. so, you kept your head down. you kept your mouth shut, and you let them die. you let him kill them all, one by one. all except her, and you, and that’s your consolation prize : that’s what you’re left with. you’re alive. selfish, afraid, undeserving, angry — alive.
his performance is solid, you’ll give him that ; a role he’s slipped into with ease, just like slipping on a mask. survivor. martyr. ( — murderer, liar, everyone should know what he is, you shouldn’t have to keep carrying this with you. ) you look at him, steadily. not warm, not cold, not much of anything at all. a blank wall is your only option, your only bulwark. ‘ why would you even think that ? why the fuck … ’ careful. keep it level, keep it toneless. ‘ … would you think i’d be glad ? ’
YOU’VE HEARD ENOUGH OF THOSE LATELY. questions about what was going through your head when you were trying to hide from brandon, questions about brandon himself and what you knew about him, questions about what it’s like to survive all of this, questions about how it is to go on living while your friends died and you survived. and none of them you can answer truthfully, just with that faked sense of grief you wear so well. you’re tired of being questioned, because you’re tired of having to put on a show for everyone ( you better get used to it ---- this is the fate you’ve created for yourself. ) ❝ i’m fine, ❞ you mutter, but his words spark some kind of warmth in your chest, because even if you’re the one who took the lives of your innocent friends, they’re still gone. you really are alone, except for her, and she’s leaving too. maybe it’s best for you to play nice with him; maybe friendship won’t leave you so far gone, even if you’re already past the point of no return.
❝ i mean ---- - ❞ a pause, eyes avoiding his. ❝ don’t know how to be anything else right now. no one’ll leave me alone. ❞ AND THERE’S GLORY IN IT, because everyone wants to know what you’re going through. everyone loves the story of a hero who survived a tragedy, and you knew that from the start. you knew you’d get this praise, this appreciation, and you knew you would eat it all up. you love it, you do, because no one is trying to point fingers at you ( not when you’re the one who has bled. ) but you pretend to be annoyed anyway, act as if you’re exhausted from the attention and feeling so invaded by the media, even if you love seeing your face everywhere NEXT TO HIS, the very opposite way it should be. ❝ just wish they’d let me fucking deal with it alone. ❞ they. the media, their peers ---- not him. even though you don’t want him around, you can invite him around anyway. there’s safety in that, as much as it bothers you.
you try to study his features as you wonder if he suspects everything. you wonder about everyone ----- your family, brandon’s family, maggie, the reporters. you’ve taken care of everything, you worked carefully and meticulously ---- so you know that no one knows what you’ve really done, yet paranoia is an ugly friend, and you still have to watch your every move. lennon already has his own distaste towards you, and you can’t help but to be cautious. what if he takes that disdain too far? YOU CRACKED when the boy you hated got under your skin, so anyone else can too. ❝ just never seemed like you gave a shit, ❞ you mutter, attempting to brush it off, trying to pretend you’re only saying this because you’re protective over your friends’ lives lost. ❝ ----- always felt like you were on the outside. you never agreed with the rest of us. ❞ but you’re only speaking of one thing in particular: brandon. it still eats away with you as you wonder why lennon was never quick to jump in on those attacks towards brandon. this was all about changing people’s minds ---- maggie’s, specifically. did it work on lennon. ❝ you seriously don’t think that monster needed spared now, right? ❞ your heart beats a little faster as you wait for an answer, desperate for that validation.
