Andrew feels like there is a hole carved out in his chest that aches when he yearns for normality. The hole that aches so painfully when he watches Dennis, Jack and Michael in their open kitchen, basked in warm light. Dennis is sitting on the counter while Jack and Michael are cooking and they are all laughing. They are talking and laughing, teasing each other, tickling Dennis to make him squirm while Jack spoon feeds them to ask if the food needs more seasoning. It smells heavenly, and the kitchen is filled with their happy presence.
Andrew yearns to be basked in that same warm light. He yearns to be part of their inside jokes, gentle touches, and easy laughter while he stands in the dark hallway, making no sound as he watches them. He feels angry, upset, and so so jealous that Jack got away. That he got away and lived this life. Of course, he deserved it but why couldn't it be for Andrew too? He thought of Cath and Lena, how badly he wanted to be part of their family in the most gentle way, only for him to be the reason of it's destruction. He thought of Amy, a quiet Christian life with her. It's good that she ran. Any sensible person should've.
Andrew flees before they can notice him, before he ruins the mood or unsettles them. He flees to the bathroom, where he just stands in the dark for as long it takes to prepare himself to see himself in the mirror. Eventually he turns on the light and that face set in stone stares right back at him.
His tense jaw, clenched teeth and deep set eyes. That face that made people get out of his way in the grocery store. That face that had been beat into it's hardness to scare the people he needed to scare. A face that even his own mother wouldn't love.
The laughter from the kitchen echoes through the closed door. He thinks of Jack's charming smile, Dennis open-mouthed laughter with that cute tooth gap and Michael's warm chuckle. He tries to smile too, tries to envision what it would be like to stand there with them, and genuinely, naturally, laugh. He tries so hard to see any of their qualities in him, tries to mimick them, but none of it works. It's like his face isn't even supposed to smile, like a mask that didn't fit him. Andrew doesn't even remember the last time he laughed the way Dennis did now on a casual Wednesday afternoon. As if it was easy. As if it requires nothing of him. As if it came naturally to him.
Why can't I do that? Why can't I laugh like them? Why can't I smile like them? Why? Why? Why?
You know why.