Categories > Original > Romance > Untitled Song
Fourth Song
A famous singer finds a boy laying in the snow. He decides to bring him home. He soon discovers that he has developed feelings for him, but he has trouble reaching out to the mentally ill boy.
?Blocked
"...Yes?"
"...Hi...You asleep? I'm sorry..." Sniffle.
"No, I...I just fell asleep, I'm in the bath."
"Oh! Oh, okay. That's good. Yeah. I um..." A deep breath made funny sounds in the phone then I heard sounds of water hitting the sink.
"What is it?" I knew it was serious if he called me at one a.m. on days I worked. I got up slowly, wrapped a towel around my waist and got out. The skin on my hands and feet had gotten wrinkled because of the long stay. I realized I'd slept for half an hour.
"Nothing. I'm okay now. Just...I don't know, felt lonely."
"Yeah okay. Go to bed okay? Don't stay up all night." Oh how I wanted to do that myself. I was dead tired. Live-sessions always made me tired, even though I enjoyed them.
I knew he'd had a nightmare, which is why he called me. I'd told him to call me when he felt like he would hurt himself, when the demons wouldn't let go of him. I knew how he was at those times, curling up with his hands clasped on his ears, screaming at them to go away, to stop their hoarse whispers in his head. I could see the demons in his eyes when he lay motionless on the floor of the living room in the middle of the night staring, not even knowing how he got there, not fully awake because the demons didn't let him wake up. If he woke up they would loose their power over him. That other world, that world full of darkness, it sucked him in, and he had no strength left to fight anymore.
"Meh...I will. Was it fun today?"
"Yeah, it was fun."
"Good night." He made a kissing sound.
"Take care. Sleep tight, baby," and I cut off the connection. Right after, my manager Layla called me to tell me the flight tomorrow had been canceled and we would leave three hours later than previously planned.
The next day, in those three hours, we went shopping in the airport. I'd put on a hat and sunglasses so I wouldn't be recognized, but they made me feel silly. My mind was wondering off to Ayah; I wondered if he was okay. Layla was talking in her usual manner about her theories on celebrities, what we had to do, and complaining about her load of work as we drank our coffee.
I think Layla felt sorry for me because of how I appeared on the evening paper every day, the lies about me in the headlines, just because I was seen walking beside someone, kissing someone's cheek in a friendly manner or doing things every human being did. She never said these things, but instead she said things about how these headlines kept the celebrity alive in media, how they published them and made them able to make a profit off their work. I didn't feel sorry for myself because of this at all, it amused me to some degree. What I hated the most was people's expectations. The quality of my work decreased when the expectations became too high; the stress knocked me out. Therefore, I couldn't care less about Layla's opinion on this. I never watched TV by myself, and when I did, it was because Ayah was watching it with empty eyes, not really seeing, but using the buzz as a comforting lullaby. The voices of radio and TV filled my ears wherever I walked, the music merging with the words of some news channel and explosions in some action movie. It made my head spin. I felt the comfort Ayah must find in simply lying on the floor and staring, thinking of nothing, just being.
And now, when I looked up from my blue eyes being mirrored in the coffee, to the strongly lit corridor of the airport, I saw him walk towards me in that slow manner of his, smiling a welcome at me. Then just as he came close enough for me to distinguish his features, he vanished. It startled me. "Uh...what?"
"I was saying, we have to go now, the plane will take off in 15 minutes."
"Ah...yes." I came to my senses and rose up, taking my bags, and we left.
"I'm an angel, you know." He whispered in my ear, teasing it.
"You are?"
"Yeah...Some people are angels...I think you're an angel too." His hand touched my face carefully, like a blind man would touch.
"I am?" My eyes were shut, feeling the tingling sensation of his cold fingertips over my cheeks and nose and eyelids, and then sliding down to my neck, just to go back up to my lips.
"Yeah..." He paused, pushing his head closer to my chest, his voice faint. "I want us to build a castle in the sky...with a wall of light around it...where darkness can't ever reach...the place where darkness cannot reach...the place..." He repeated those words over and over. The place where darkness cannot reach. Tears gathered at my eyes. The place where the voices were silent, the place where the demons couldn't come to. The place where you were allowed to feel the way you wanted to.
His face was serene, except for his lips, which were repeating the words silently now.
"...Hi...You asleep? I'm sorry..." Sniffle.
"No, I...I just fell asleep, I'm in the bath."
"Oh! Oh, okay. That's good. Yeah. I um..." A deep breath made funny sounds in the phone then I heard sounds of water hitting the sink.
"What is it?" I knew it was serious if he called me at one a.m. on days I worked. I got up slowly, wrapped a towel around my waist and got out. The skin on my hands and feet had gotten wrinkled because of the long stay. I realized I'd slept for half an hour.
"Nothing. I'm okay now. Just...I don't know, felt lonely."
"Yeah okay. Go to bed okay? Don't stay up all night." Oh how I wanted to do that myself. I was dead tired. Live-sessions always made me tired, even though I enjoyed them.
I knew he'd had a nightmare, which is why he called me. I'd told him to call me when he felt like he would hurt himself, when the demons wouldn't let go of him. I knew how he was at those times, curling up with his hands clasped on his ears, screaming at them to go away, to stop their hoarse whispers in his head. I could see the demons in his eyes when he lay motionless on the floor of the living room in the middle of the night staring, not even knowing how he got there, not fully awake because the demons didn't let him wake up. If he woke up they would loose their power over him. That other world, that world full of darkness, it sucked him in, and he had no strength left to fight anymore.
"Meh...I will. Was it fun today?"
"Yeah, it was fun."
"Good night." He made a kissing sound.
"Take care. Sleep tight, baby," and I cut off the connection. Right after, my manager Layla called me to tell me the flight tomorrow had been canceled and we would leave three hours later than previously planned.
The next day, in those three hours, we went shopping in the airport. I'd put on a hat and sunglasses so I wouldn't be recognized, but they made me feel silly. My mind was wondering off to Ayah; I wondered if he was okay. Layla was talking in her usual manner about her theories on celebrities, what we had to do, and complaining about her load of work as we drank our coffee.
I think Layla felt sorry for me because of how I appeared on the evening paper every day, the lies about me in the headlines, just because I was seen walking beside someone, kissing someone's cheek in a friendly manner or doing things every human being did. She never said these things, but instead she said things about how these headlines kept the celebrity alive in media, how they published them and made them able to make a profit off their work. I didn't feel sorry for myself because of this at all, it amused me to some degree. What I hated the most was people's expectations. The quality of my work decreased when the expectations became too high; the stress knocked me out. Therefore, I couldn't care less about Layla's opinion on this. I never watched TV by myself, and when I did, it was because Ayah was watching it with empty eyes, not really seeing, but using the buzz as a comforting lullaby. The voices of radio and TV filled my ears wherever I walked, the music merging with the words of some news channel and explosions in some action movie. It made my head spin. I felt the comfort Ayah must find in simply lying on the floor and staring, thinking of nothing, just being.
And now, when I looked up from my blue eyes being mirrored in the coffee, to the strongly lit corridor of the airport, I saw him walk towards me in that slow manner of his, smiling a welcome at me. Then just as he came close enough for me to distinguish his features, he vanished. It startled me. "Uh...what?"
"I was saying, we have to go now, the plane will take off in 15 minutes."
"Ah...yes." I came to my senses and rose up, taking my bags, and we left.
"I'm an angel, you know." He whispered in my ear, teasing it.
"You are?"
"Yeah...Some people are angels...I think you're an angel too." His hand touched my face carefully, like a blind man would touch.
"I am?" My eyes were shut, feeling the tingling sensation of his cold fingertips over my cheeks and nose and eyelids, and then sliding down to my neck, just to go back up to my lips.
"Yeah..." He paused, pushing his head closer to my chest, his voice faint. "I want us to build a castle in the sky...with a wall of light around it...where darkness can't ever reach...the place where darkness cannot reach...the place..." He repeated those words over and over. The place where darkness cannot reach. Tears gathered at my eyes. The place where the voices were silent, the place where the demons couldn't come to. The place where you were allowed to feel the way you wanted to.
His face was serene, except for his lips, which were repeating the words silently now.
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