Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Golden
I watched as he pulled the covers further up his face, his eyebrows just showing over the white sheet. I shook my head slightly, and made my way over to him, carefully stepping over the various objects that had been thrown in his anger. I tugged the sheet, and creased my eyebrows as the edge of the sheet began to blacken.
"Leave me ALONE!" He screamed, and pulled the cover further up his head.
I ripped the sheet from him, and gasped as the source of the blackened sheet became clear. I pulled the lighter from his grasp, and ripped my previously favorite hoodie from his hands. The black holes in the hood and the pockets were evident, and I groaned as I threw it on the floor. I looked to Andy's eyes, as the glint that possessed them not a moment ago disappeared.
"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" He growled, and stepped towards me.
"Andy, where did you get this lighter from?" I asked, ignoring his previous question. He shook his head, and stepped towards me again.
"You didn't answer me!" He mumbled, and stomped his foot on the floor. His long hair shivered slightly, and the anger in his eyes crackled in his glare towards me.
"Andy, I didn't want to answer your question until you answer mine. Where did you get this lighter from?" He growled again, and sighed.
"Izzy, you're not answering me," He glared, and I shrugged my shoulders. I left the corner he had managed to block me into, and he stared at me as I threw the lighter out into the next-door garden. His eyes followed the piece of plastic, wincing as he couldn't follow its path anymore. He moaned, and came into the kitchen.
"Sorry," He mumbled, and I looked to him. He had moments, where his conditions would break, and he would open up to me. I sighed, I knew these moments didn't last long, but I cherished them when they did. I looked into his eyes, and saw something that evidently happened rarely.
Sorrow? Regret? /Pain/?
I shook my head, and let him try to explore my mind with his eyes. I could see him trying to work out what I was thinking, try to let himself be himself again. I could see the cogs working in his brain, trying to understand what was wrong with him. As a noise from outside broke the silence, I widened my eyes as a fire engine passed the window, its sirens blaring as the red blur passed my eye line.
I watched as Andy's eye filled with unimaginable passion again, and he hurtled towards the window, his eyes following the movement of the truck that was now down the other end of the street. He laughed, and his eyes were filled with a passion that no-one had ever understood. Something that no-one ever questioned. His parents always thought he was just a curious kid, thinking that he just needed something to entertain him.
They would start fires for him to watch, let him see firework shows just to amuse him. They never questioned it when his eyes would gleam with happiness when his mother's lighter would flame up so she could light her cigarette, they would never question it when his Aunty, my mother, would light the fire in the grate and he would sit there for hours, just watching the flames dance in the wall. No-one ever understood him.
Except me.
----------
"Andy, would you like to show Izzy to her room? You two can talk about what you've been doing at school," My Aunty, Andy's mother, looked at me and smiled, and I showed her my toothy grin.
"That's okay Mrs. Hurley, I know where I'm going, I've stayed here before," I smiled, and Andy shook his head.
"Oh shut up and follow me, Jeeze" He grumbled, and I shook it off as the moody pre-teen boys' thing.
Wandering up the stairs, I took notice of how Andy would walk in front of me. He dragged his feet, and sighed every few seconds. He cursed under his breath as he stepped on a pen, and angrily threw it down the stairway. Shaking my head, I ignored these things as well.
Approaching a familiar door, I thanked Andy as I approached the oak wood door, and opened it carefully. He shook his head and walked into his bedroom next-door. I placed my bags down carefully on the bed, and decided to read for a while.
After about half an hour, I could hear noises coming from Andy's bedroom, and I decided to be nosy and investigate. Approaching his door, I knocked nervously, and heard him groan and curse a few times before eventually opening his door. He shook his head as he observed me standing there, and let me in.
I found it surprising; I actually didn't think he would want me in there. I took note of everything in his room, as I had actually never been in there before. I saw a drum kit in the corner of the room, his various drumsticks scattered all over the floor. I saw his bed, covered in comic books and various action figures, and I saw his desk, littered with drawings and writings, nothing coherent to see. I looked to him, and he motioned for me to sit in his computer chair.
"So what are you doing in here? Get bored?" He asked, while his eyes wandered around his own room.
"Not really, I was reading, it's actually a very good book by Jane Austin..." He cut me off.
"I really, REALLY don't care about Jane whatserface..." I sighed, getting increasingly annoyed with his rude manner.
"I came in here because I wanted to get to know my cousin better. That and I heard noises." He laughed.
"Noises huh? Like what?" He picked up a drumstick from the floor and twiddled it around his fingers.
"Like, I don't know. You were talking to yourself." He laughed again, unnerving me.
"I know. You want to know why?" He asked, and didn't wait for an answer.
He approached a drawer, and pulled out a box from the back of the drawer. He opened the box, and inside were various cuttings from his fathers football career, and cuttings from his mothers writings in the newspaper.
"Cover ups." He mumbled, and opened the top part of the box, revealing the real contents.
Inside were various things, all having the same thing in common. They all had something to do with fire. There were matches of all sizes, a few lighters, and few firecrackers. There were even sparklers and small fireworks, and there were splints and pieces of wood to set alight.
"What are all of these for?" I asked, and he smiled.
"Fire, of course," He smirked, and drew one of the splints out. He pulled a lighter, and set the tip of the splint alight.
As soon as the flame grew, I saw his eyes spark up in glee, and his smile grew with each passing second. By the time the flame went out, he was literally shaking in happiness, and his eyes had glazed over. He blinked a few times, and his gaze returned to that of an angry little boy.
"Now get out of my room."
----------
I watched as he sat back down, taking the exact seat that he was sat in before. He eyes returned to mine, but didn't reflect emotions like they did before. He shook his head, and stared at me angrily.
"Why don't you ever let me go out?" He asked, and I laughed.
"Andy, you know exactly why," I said, and he settled on the sofa and screamed into a pillow. I rolled my eyes as he sat back up and glared.
"No I don't! You keep me locked inside unless we go shopping or unless you need to go somewhere, you take me with you where you go but I never get to go on my own! God Izzy! I hate you so much!" He growled, and screamed into the pillow once more.
"Andy, I'm sorry, it's just the way it has to be. Would you rather be in a mental institution with people who don't know you? Would you rather be stuck with a needle and sedated when you get angry? Would you rather be locked in a small grey room with no-one except your left big toe to keep you company?" He looked at me and scoffed.
"YES!" He yelled, and stomped up the stairs.
Oh, how I love my life.
"Leave me ALONE!" He screamed, and pulled the cover further up his head.
I ripped the sheet from him, and gasped as the source of the blackened sheet became clear. I pulled the lighter from his grasp, and ripped my previously favorite hoodie from his hands. The black holes in the hood and the pockets were evident, and I groaned as I threw it on the floor. I looked to Andy's eyes, as the glint that possessed them not a moment ago disappeared.
"What the Hell do you think you're doing?" He growled, and stepped towards me.
"Andy, where did you get this lighter from?" I asked, ignoring his previous question. He shook his head, and stepped towards me again.
"You didn't answer me!" He mumbled, and stomped his foot on the floor. His long hair shivered slightly, and the anger in his eyes crackled in his glare towards me.
"Andy, I didn't want to answer your question until you answer mine. Where did you get this lighter from?" He growled again, and sighed.
"Izzy, you're not answering me," He glared, and I shrugged my shoulders. I left the corner he had managed to block me into, and he stared at me as I threw the lighter out into the next-door garden. His eyes followed the piece of plastic, wincing as he couldn't follow its path anymore. He moaned, and came into the kitchen.
"Sorry," He mumbled, and I looked to him. He had moments, where his conditions would break, and he would open up to me. I sighed, I knew these moments didn't last long, but I cherished them when they did. I looked into his eyes, and saw something that evidently happened rarely.
Sorrow? Regret? /Pain/?
I shook my head, and let him try to explore my mind with his eyes. I could see him trying to work out what I was thinking, try to let himself be himself again. I could see the cogs working in his brain, trying to understand what was wrong with him. As a noise from outside broke the silence, I widened my eyes as a fire engine passed the window, its sirens blaring as the red blur passed my eye line.
I watched as Andy's eye filled with unimaginable passion again, and he hurtled towards the window, his eyes following the movement of the truck that was now down the other end of the street. He laughed, and his eyes were filled with a passion that no-one had ever understood. Something that no-one ever questioned. His parents always thought he was just a curious kid, thinking that he just needed something to entertain him.
They would start fires for him to watch, let him see firework shows just to amuse him. They never questioned it when his eyes would gleam with happiness when his mother's lighter would flame up so she could light her cigarette, they would never question it when his Aunty, my mother, would light the fire in the grate and he would sit there for hours, just watching the flames dance in the wall. No-one ever understood him.
Except me.
----------
"Andy, would you like to show Izzy to her room? You two can talk about what you've been doing at school," My Aunty, Andy's mother, looked at me and smiled, and I showed her my toothy grin.
"That's okay Mrs. Hurley, I know where I'm going, I've stayed here before," I smiled, and Andy shook his head.
"Oh shut up and follow me, Jeeze" He grumbled, and I shook it off as the moody pre-teen boys' thing.
Wandering up the stairs, I took notice of how Andy would walk in front of me. He dragged his feet, and sighed every few seconds. He cursed under his breath as he stepped on a pen, and angrily threw it down the stairway. Shaking my head, I ignored these things as well.
Approaching a familiar door, I thanked Andy as I approached the oak wood door, and opened it carefully. He shook his head and walked into his bedroom next-door. I placed my bags down carefully on the bed, and decided to read for a while.
After about half an hour, I could hear noises coming from Andy's bedroom, and I decided to be nosy and investigate. Approaching his door, I knocked nervously, and heard him groan and curse a few times before eventually opening his door. He shook his head as he observed me standing there, and let me in.
I found it surprising; I actually didn't think he would want me in there. I took note of everything in his room, as I had actually never been in there before. I saw a drum kit in the corner of the room, his various drumsticks scattered all over the floor. I saw his bed, covered in comic books and various action figures, and I saw his desk, littered with drawings and writings, nothing coherent to see. I looked to him, and he motioned for me to sit in his computer chair.
"So what are you doing in here? Get bored?" He asked, while his eyes wandered around his own room.
"Not really, I was reading, it's actually a very good book by Jane Austin..." He cut me off.
"I really, REALLY don't care about Jane whatserface..." I sighed, getting increasingly annoyed with his rude manner.
"I came in here because I wanted to get to know my cousin better. That and I heard noises." He laughed.
"Noises huh? Like what?" He picked up a drumstick from the floor and twiddled it around his fingers.
"Like, I don't know. You were talking to yourself." He laughed again, unnerving me.
"I know. You want to know why?" He asked, and didn't wait for an answer.
He approached a drawer, and pulled out a box from the back of the drawer. He opened the box, and inside were various cuttings from his fathers football career, and cuttings from his mothers writings in the newspaper.
"Cover ups." He mumbled, and opened the top part of the box, revealing the real contents.
Inside were various things, all having the same thing in common. They all had something to do with fire. There were matches of all sizes, a few lighters, and few firecrackers. There were even sparklers and small fireworks, and there were splints and pieces of wood to set alight.
"What are all of these for?" I asked, and he smiled.
"Fire, of course," He smirked, and drew one of the splints out. He pulled a lighter, and set the tip of the splint alight.
As soon as the flame grew, I saw his eyes spark up in glee, and his smile grew with each passing second. By the time the flame went out, he was literally shaking in happiness, and his eyes had glazed over. He blinked a few times, and his gaze returned to that of an angry little boy.
"Now get out of my room."
----------
I watched as he sat back down, taking the exact seat that he was sat in before. He eyes returned to mine, but didn't reflect emotions like they did before. He shook his head, and stared at me angrily.
"Why don't you ever let me go out?" He asked, and I laughed.
"Andy, you know exactly why," I said, and he settled on the sofa and screamed into a pillow. I rolled my eyes as he sat back up and glared.
"No I don't! You keep me locked inside unless we go shopping or unless you need to go somewhere, you take me with you where you go but I never get to go on my own! God Izzy! I hate you so much!" He growled, and screamed into the pillow once more.
"Andy, I'm sorry, it's just the way it has to be. Would you rather be in a mental institution with people who don't know you? Would you rather be stuck with a needle and sedated when you get angry? Would you rather be locked in a small grey room with no-one except your left big toe to keep you company?" He looked at me and scoffed.
"YES!" He yelled, and stomped up the stairs.
Oh, how I love my life.
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