Kookaburra (formerly untitled) Ch.TWELVE

I force myself to watch as he walks away, because my body refuses to do all the things I want it to. I want to scream out. I want to run after him. I want to tell him I love him. I want to hug him and kiss him and tell him it’ll be alright. But I can’t. So I just watch as he fades under the streetlights. And then, when I know he’s gone, when I know he can’t come back, I turn and walk in the opposite direction to Matt’s. I should have gone the way Kaden went, but I can’t bring myself to follow his footsteps. I’ll find a way home somehow.

Home. Yeah right. I don’t know where I’m heading right now, but ‘home’ isn’t it. Home is where all your stuff rests, not your clothes and bags and shoes, your memories, hopes, dreams, wishes. Home is where you can watch movies in peace and cover your walls in posters. Home is where people love you, care for you. I don’t have a home.

It takes me a few hours to get back to Matt’s, but I arrive eventually, with the sun climbing through the sky behind me.

I push through the unlocked door, noticing all the details I did this morning, only from a different angle. The couple still lie together on the couch, limbs twisted around each other. The girl has red hair, but it’s not natural enough to be called ginger. The boy has black hair disguised under a beanie. My eyes latch on the bottles placed around the couch like candles surrounding an altar. I have my answer.

***

An hour passes. I’m dancing to songs you can’t really dance to. Two hours, and I’m doodling over my hands in a suspiciously thick and strange smelling pen. Three hours, and I’m lying on Matt’s bed, eyes pulling shut, shapes dancing beneath them, colours swimming in meaningless shapes, head spinning, ears pounding, brain falling, crashing, dissolving.

“I declare a holiday. So fall asleep. Drift away.”

***

My eyes blink open. I see black. It hurts. Blink again, and light comes flooding back, scratching at my retinas.

“Fuck…” I murmur, rolling over, squashing my head into the mattress. Day is here, and it hurts like Hell.

“Morning sunshine,” says a voice that’s digging into my skull like a pneumatic drill, “or should I say afternoon. Possibly evening, perhaps even night…”

I groan. There’s only one person who that could be. “Fuck off, Matt.”

“Hangover’s kicked in then.” It’s not a question. I don’t answer. The mattress sags under my legs as he sits down on it. “Dude,” he murmurs, lowering his voice, which is probably to help me keep my ear drums, “I know you miss him. But alcohol is no way to deal. Trust me, I know. So, by all means mope, write shitty emo poetry, and doodle his name over your school books, but for fuck’s sake, don’t destroy your life over Kaden.”

I sit up carefully, my head sobbing at the effort. “Is that what you think this is about? ‘Cause I’m fine with Kaden ditching me, in fact, I couldn’t fucking care less. I’m no fag; I don’t need some random fucking guy. I need girls, I need shagging, I need parties. I need booze, dope, violence. So what if I’m in love with him? I don’t need love. I’m sixteen fucking years old, sixteen year olds don’t fall in love. I’ll be fine. Fuck Kaden. I don’t need him at all, not at all. I’m fine without him, I’m fucking dandy…” I’m aware that I’m burbling. I’m aware that I’m lying to myself. And I’m definitely aware that Matt doesn’t believe a word of it. But screw that. It’s the truth, and I’ll make it the truth.

Sixteen year olds don’t fall in love.

I haven’t fallen in love.

I am not in love.