The Evermore Dissociate(Creek) - Chapter 41: Chapter 41

He dreamed of a storm. A vicious lullaby that howled it's ungodly tunes throughout night, tearing through the rustled trees with little mercy, as it's frozen dead air clung to his numb skin. He breathed in the coldness, feeling it sitting heavily within his chest as he watched the chaos around him. The threateningly dark clouds that invaded the skies cried out with thunder, spilling rain and hail like spears in weight. The mystical fog that seeped through the empty streets disrupted his vision as his shaky fingers reached out, reached for what was right in front of him, the untouchable taunting him once again.
Just like everything else that was untouchable. Space and time, untouchable. Every leaf that blew along with the passing wind. Every rain drop that seemed to miss his bone dry skin, every word that spilt past his chapped lips was untouchable, his voice forever lodged within his broken throat, begging to be set free.
He dreamed of a storm. A beautiful mess that knocked him off his feet, leaving him wide eyed as he stared entranced by the bleeding skies. It's once grey canvas, distortedly crimson. He wailed in pain, his bruised skin contorted, lips gone blue.
Heavens that parted vibrated the earth. The collapsing of trees and buildings the same, leaving a ruins amidst the hurricane that grew before his glassy eyes. He cried out a name, eyelids desperately shut as he reached out in dire need of connection. He begged and screamed a name till his voice became a raspy whisper, drifting among the soaring shouts of wind that fleeted past his burning ears.
He dreamed of a storm with icy blue eyes that damaged his soul. A charming smile that tore at his heart with a presence that collided inside his head. He dreamed of a warm hand, reaching through the destruction and touching with his own, pulling him from the ground as the skies were swallowed by fire, consuming the stars and oxygen and everything in between. Leaving only him and this faceless person who answered to the calls of his name.
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The suffocation of blankets we're the first to wake him, shortly followed by the thumping on his door as his mother called out his name. Her chorused voice passing beneath the separation of door and floor. A low groan caught deep within his throat as he tossed onto his back, peeling his heavy eyelids open to stare at the white celling. He breathed for what felt like the first time that morning, feeling the air in his lungs as he rubbed his knuckles against his eyes. He stretched his legs during his yawn, only to still in place as they made a connection.
The utter of 'what the fuck' sounded under his breath as he stared wide eyed at the lump at the bottom of the bed. A long arm poked out of the covers, draped down the side of the bed as messy black hair stuck out in every direction. He stared in confusion as Craig turned in his sleep, mindlessly pulling the covers from Tweek's lap as he wrapped himself up some more.
As moments passed with the chirping of birds outside his window, the recent memories of yesterday came back to Tweek, remembering his awkward encounter with the noirette currently sleeping. Though he failed to remember the invitation to sleep over, passed on to his friend, it seemed he no longer needed one.
He looked down at his pale hands as they shook, a reminder he needed to take his medication. So he slid off his bed, his feet slapping against the cold floor boards as he headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready for another dreadful day of school. A day full of tension and anxiety, whispers and lies passed between students that fled the hallways. Idle gossip and rumours of whatever unfortunate soul was next to be victimised. Luckily for Tweek, he somehow passed under the radar, with his new medication and therapy sessions, he no longer drew attention to himself, suffice to say, he was somewhat normal.
He rid himself of his clothes, stepping into the shower, before turning the tap, releasing the water that drenched his skin, his hair, his body. With eyes closed, his hand pressed against the tiles. His head hung low as he indulged his thoughts, he hated his thoughts. Of course, who doesn't?
Thoughts are usually the main cause of all our problems, we're left unattended, allowing them manifest. They grow and grow until we're filled with negativity. A negativity that drives us slowly insane, and we feel our thoughts in a form of pain.
This heavy weight we feel resting within our chests never really leaves us. Perhaps over time it fades until it's bearable, and once again we can breathe. Though it never truly goes away, not completely. We're all born in pain, with pain, and only as you grow, does it becomes stronger. Yet everyday we too grow stronger. Stronger in soul, faith and mind.
We owe this to love, whether it be the warm grains of sand between our toes, or the subtle nudge of the head by a cat, as it shares it's affection for you. Whether it's a tremble of a hand clasped between it's lovers as tentative lips are pressed against knuckles, or the promise of a ring. A smile between two friends, as the hum of the car is silenced by the tunes of the radio, with hair disarrayed as the wind floods through parted windows.
This pain we're born with is contained by the soft hellos, and the murmured goodbyes. It's numbed by the quaking of lips as those three words are spoken for the first time. The unconditional love a mother has for her child, the breaking of her heart when she has to say goodbye. This heaviness we feel within our chest is apart of who we are. From birth to death it remains. A constant reminder that we are born in pain, and that with pain comes happiness, and love and fear. With pain comes life and potential, because without it we can never really grow.
You see, this heavy weight we feel within in chests is us. It's the emotions we feel as the blood courses through our veins. It's the oxygen we breathe, and every rib that protects our hearts, that makes us who we are. This weight is our souls. Our souls that only grow as we do, with every wrinkle and scar, every year that goes by. It's our souls yearning to make a connection within this life time, because we're never really whole on our own.
To be whole was something Tweek thought about a lot, what did it mean to be whole? To live a decent life? Grow old and have a family? To have a hand to hold at the end of the day? He thought about all of the movies he hated. The category of romance, because romance was dead, and love is only a chemical in our brains that forces us to feel some type of way. He hated social media, with every dumb tweet about relationships, or every picture posted with intwined fingers and smiles passed between two. He hated the comics and video games where the hero would save the girl, because real life doesn't work that way. Everybody wants to be saved, but nobody wants to do the saving, not in this era.
He sighed as the water fell from his body, splattering against the shower floor as it splashed his toes. He hated the word 'love' because every time he hears that syllable, he's left with this intense feeling of guilt as his best friends face pops into his head. Turning off the shower, he tugged a towel around his waist, stepping out as condensation sticks to the mirror. He opens the cabinet to take his medication, those tiny pills that make him who he is, two tiny pills that make him a functional person.
They mess with his head, dulling who he truly is because the world is afraid of something different. They dull his nerves, his twitching and his stammer, they dull his overly active imagination, but that's who he is. Those tiny pills in that tiny bottle take away apart of Tweek. Apart of Tweek that society deems 'weird' or 'unnatural', but tell me this, if his wandering thoughts or the hushed voices inside his head are 'unnatural', and our brains are the things that make us who we are, our brains that are deeper than the sea itself and wider than the breathtaking sky, why is it so hard for us to accept a person for who they are? From every tic and imperfection, every chemical reaction and shaking bones.
He pushed his way back into his bedroom, eying the sleeping person stretched out on his bed as he collected a fresh set of clothes, dragging them over his skin as he quietly readied himself for school.  He wanted to wake Craig up, he did, but doing that would mean having to talk to him, and talking wasn't something Tweek was sure he could do right now. He was tired of talking, tired of pushing his voice only for a conversation to take a turn for the worst, unintentionally causing his throat to close up painfully. So painfully he no longer wanted to talk.
He wished he was a mind reader, like children plead to a God to have superpowers so that they can fly, be invisible or in Tweek's case, to read minds. He wanted to read Craig's thoughts, not only his thoughts but his emotions. He wanted to step into the reality of Craig Tucker for just one second to know what it felt like to not feel. To be apathetic must be such a blessing. To be void of emotions, worries and fear. He wondered if Craig truly was as dead inside as he liked people to believe. He wondered if every smile forced by the noirette really was forced, or if something actually had the power to make such an unemotional person, emotional.
Remembering Craig as a child was always strange, because there once was a time when he radiated with happieness. There once was a time his laughter would fill the classroom, and raw emotion would pass through his voice with every word he spoke. Only now his voice was broken into a monotone. It was strange remembering the cliche light in his eyes whenever Craig looked through the lens of a camera, because there was a point in his life when he only looked at the world through his cheap little camera his mother bought him for his birthday. Always snapping pictures of his friends, or of his guinea pig, whilst wearing the dorkiest smile he could muster.
So as Tweek slipped on his shoes and grabbed his backpack, he stopped at the foot of his bed, staring down at his friend who had unintentionally broken his heart more than once. He tried to forget what it was like to remember Craig as a child, because he wasn't a child anymore, and he wasn't the same person he once was. But still, that pathetic heart of Tweek's still reached out for the sleeping boy in front of him, even after all this time.