Summary: Just some rambling I thought of, based on some of my own musings at the bus stop this afternoon. Pretty boring...pointless.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the members of Good Charlotte or their families. I do, however, own Adam and Jason from A, Matt and Dom from Muse, and Bryan Holland from The Offspring. Yes indeedy. But they can be rented out. Prices negotiable.
It's freezing, and he should be shivering. But the truth is that Joel's mind doesn't register the cold, and his body went numb to any feeling hours ago.
Right around the time his mother threw an iron at his head and told him to get out of her house, the sick freak.
Joel's stare locks onto nothing special; a tree trunk. But in that tree trunk he's watching mini-movies of his childhood: playing explorers with Benji, coming home from baseball practice with Benji, going on a double date with Benji. All of these in the semi-darkness, just as it is now.
He likes the dark.
Benji was never one for it. He much preferred the daylight; said it was easier to see things coming at you, that way. Like a flaming ball of hydrogen...something - Joel was never very good at physics - could stop people beating him up, or them having to move house every five months.
Joel turns his head, slowly taking in his surroundings once more. Every time he does this they're the same, but slightly darker. Dusk is falling and in Joel's opinion it's beautiful...about the only beautiful thing around, right now.
Lights in a house across the street flick on, illuminating the green curtains. The colour of puke, Joel reflects, reminding himself that he hasn't had any water since he himself threw up, and the acidic taste still lingers.
Wonder what's going on in that house, he thinks. Bet nobody's being thrown out or disowned, or having objects lobbed at them... His arm is probably still bleeding, he reckons, glancing at it. But it's okay, the blood has crusted over now and a nicely sized scab is forming.
Long sleeved shirts in order. And sex without the light on. Joel's not happy about that. It's the one time he does like light, prefers it much over darkness. He likes to see what's going on, how perfect and flowing his lover is, and when he looks up and their eyes meet and... Damn fucking kitchen knife. Who throws a kitchen knife at their own son?
"Then again, who fucks their own brother?" Joel mumbles to himself, and he can almost pretend it's Benji, and can almost laugh and tease his brother for reading his thoughts again. Almost, but the absence of a warm tongue or a comforting pair of arms after the question keeps the man firmly grounded in reality.
Reality sucks, just like reality TV. Joel's thoughts don't join up...which brings him to thinking about joining the dots with all the little lights scattered in the dark.
He's just at the ninth streetlight, the one just past the Johnsons' house, when he thinks his brain's actually gone one step ahead and tricked his body into believing that Benji's here.
"She's asleep," but the voice mumbling in his ear is unmistakeable.
The man shifts in his lover's arms, sinking comfortably backwards into the firm chest and slowly directing them towards the ground to sit. This is also a signal that Benji should continue.
"I told her, over and again...we're happy. She's...I don't know. I guess she's just shocked. She can't hate us."
Joel sniffs. And at the same time wonders why he had to be the feminine one; men don't cry. Then again, they don't fuck - enough already!
Benji smiles a little, pressing his lips into the back of his brother's neck. "You're talking to that little voice again."
"'S'mocking me," the younger mumbles. "She does."
"You don't...just hate someone. We haven't done anything to her. She'll come around. Come on, think about how much she's done for us. She loves us, Joel."
"Yeah, all she's done for us and then we go and do this to repay her..."
"Hey," a note of sharpness enters his voice. "It's not a bad thing. It's not something that's supposed to hurt her or anything. Stop apologising for love."
"Sorry." A sniffle gets cut off by a laugh. "I mean...yeah."
They fall into silence as Joel contemplates the darkness once again, and Benji along with him.
"I get you," Benji sighs, maybe hours or just seconds later. Joel doesn't reply but lets his head fall back, comfortable, onto Benji's shoulder.
"You can hide your problems in the dark. You can pretend they don't exist."
"Don't have to look at them," Joel agrees, and as one their eyes flick up towards their mother's bedroom window. It's dark.
"Mom thinks the same way," the younger twin notes.
"Mmm." Lips go to his neck again. "I'd rather hide in you."
Maybe sex in the dark won't be so bad, Joel thinks.