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The soft tapping of raindrops on the window pane brought Lance back to the present moment. He turned his attention to the darkened world outside his window and leaned back into his pillows, watching as a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the room; a gentle sigh escaped his lips. The sun-kissed boy wondered what time it was, though he guessed somewhere between one or two in the morning. The storm outside had come without warning, or so Lance liked to believe. He chose to throw away the idea that he’d been stuck in his own little world long enough to not notice the dark clouds rolling in.
His bedroom seemed even darker than outside, with his only source of light coming from fading fairy lights overhead and the moonlight that trickled into the room. It seemed the moon was full tonight, shining upon the disheartened boy with sorrow.
Lance looked to the small polaroids that hung off a pale string on the wall. Despite the faces of his friends and family that smiled back at him, Lance only felt guilt. The brunette shifted uncomfortably under their prying eyes, only to wince at the sting in his arm. A sense of culpability coiled around him and suddenly made it harder to draw breath.
The saccharine moonlight was dancing over tan skin, as well as the crimson lines that decorated it. Lance suddenly felt as though the dark drops on his skin were loud enough to rouse his sleeping sister next door, and his feelings of criminality worsened. The small object that caused such disarray within Lance was dropped to the hardwood floor with a soft clatter.
The dejected boy sat and listened to the sky’s song for a moment longer in a weak attempt at regaining composure, simply allowing himself to be aware of the ache within him. Lance wanted to take back what he had done, yet simultaneously felt a sense of relief in the act. Relief. He sported a troubled shine in his glass eyes at the thought.
How could he feel relief in what he’d done?
Lance knew he would have to brandish the marks of tonight until they let him be. He knew he would wear sweaters, jackets, anything to cover his melancholic pain. He knew he would feel shame in every fibre of his being when he smiled brightly to friends, to his mother.
Even so, he didn’t believe this somber night to be unique to any degree. Lance found himself lost in a cruel cycle, one of which he was guided through by a silver kiss. Those sharpened lips only became intimate behind closed doors, but their touch continued to hang over Lance like a dark cloud wherever he went.
Looking upon the budding petals on his forearm, Lance soon felt a sense of peace through his cluttered mind. Once they flowered, he would be left to look after them alone; until they wilted and demanded to be replanted.
Lance rubbed his eyes and rose from his nest of blankets and pillows, flicking his lamp on and squinting through the light. Once his eyes adjusted to the luminescence, he wished they hadn’t. The tallies of his grief were granted clarity in the light, and Lance was forced to face his actions bluntly. He tore his eyes away from the sight and pressed on, crossing the planes of his room and peering into the desolate hallway beyond.
While it reigned true that each member of his family was asleep, there was a need to act with caution. Lance eyed the door at the end of the hallway, trying to recall which areas of the floor would groan under his weight and call out to any of the light sleepers in the McClain household.
His bare feet were chilled against the cold floors, and even more so when he finally made it to the bathroom; Lance took it as a tiny victory in his efforts at forgetting his hardship.
Lance gingerly shut the door before he looked at the boy staring back at him. This figure had eyes ringed with a gentle red, and once rosy cheeks that now wore the stains of heavy tears. Lance couldn’t recognize this boy before him, nor did he want to. A light within him rejected the sight, despite how that miniscule spark was nearly extinguished on nights like these. Nevertheless, it persisted. While the metallic being he spent these long nights with took from him without regard, this loving light would instead offer something: a will to fight on, and a desire to fan the spark into a flame. A desire for happiness, for nights that felt liberated.
Yet liberty took time, and this boy in the mirror wouldn’t become familiar in a single night.
Lance grimaced as he ran warm water over his forearm, watching as the translucent water turned a vague hue of pink for a moment. He wondered how many times he would find himself in this position, alone with only his thoughts and the soft trickle of water to fill the heavy silence.
Once he’d washed off his forearm completely, Lance was gently dabbing his skin dry with the hem of his dark T-shirt. It stung, but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t allowed to mind.
Soon, the only sound that accompanied the boy was the tearing of paper and cutting of fabric. It felt as though it were a routine. Apply gauze firmly, bandage snugly, toss the packages away. No one ever knew anything was amiss, with the dressing packages being hidden beneath bundles of toilet paper in the trash. Although, upon reaching the third step..Lance noted there wasn’t any paper on the roll. Of course, one of his younger siblings was likely the culprit.
Lance didn’t have the energy to find any extra toilet paper at such an hour into the night, and halfheartedly assumed he would be able to cover up his misdeeds without it. No one looked into the bathroom garbage can unless they were the unlucky soul cleaning it out, so the odds seemed well enough. He would be fine.
Although, it seemed his night wasn’t quite over. While he sauntered back to his room for a night of counting his breaths until the gentle arms of sleep swept him up, he heard the soft creak of a floorboard just a little ways away.
Lance’s breath hitched when he saw the small figure standing just a few feet away, and quickly tugged his sleeve down when he snapped out of his trance-like state. He ignored the discomfort of his clothes rubbing against the freshly bandaged wounds, but was set on edge all the same.
There stood his little sister, Rachel. She wasn’t much younger, only three years younger at fourteen, but she was rubbing her eyes like a sleepy toddler all the same.
“Lance..? What’re you doing up? You scared me..” The girl huffed, groggy after being unexpectedly roused from her slumber. She stepped up to him and Lance stiffened.
Even if she was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Rachel took notice as the ever-observant one of the household. Even in the low lighting of the hallway, she knew something was off about the young man before her.
Lance tried to calm his nerves, but the very idea of his dear sister finding out about what really had him out of bed was making him weak in the knees. He had to be the strong older brother, to have it together when his family needed him. Yet, he couldn’t silence the endless fears that raced through his mind: what if she saw the bandage? What if she said something to their parents? What if he really was just a burden?
“Just had to use the bathroom, Rach, relax. No burglars around.” Lance joked lightheartedly, his whole demeanour shifting as he tussled her hair. “Go back to bed, else Mamá is gonna get upset at you for staying up all night.”
Rachel wanted to believe that she was just overthinking things, but she couldn’t help the slight concern she felt for Lance. There was nothing that stuck out as being wrong, but she knew her brother well enough to know when something was just off.
Rachel smiled. “Okay, okay, I’m going.” She said, nudging him gently before disappearing back into her pretty pink bedroom.
Lance let out a soft breath once the door closed behind her, and his bright smile vanished faster than it had appeared. It had been a long, long night, and he truly just wanted to listen to the raindrops pattering against his window while he drifted into a fitful sleep.
Once he was back in the isolation of his own room, those dark thoughts seemed to creep right back in. They hung over him as darker clouds than those just outside, and rained down the whispers of uncertainties and insecurities.
Lance slumped back against his bedroom door and just let the thoughts come to him. He did his best to allow them to wash away before making his way back over to his unkempt bed.
The distraught boy sat down at the edge and listened to the soft whine of his bed sinking with his weight, looking for anything at all to draw his attention away from the feelings of scorn he held in his chest.
He was okay. He would be okay.
Lance repeated the words like a mantra in his mind as he laid down.
It was uncomfortable to lay in any position, as he always seemed to be irritating his sensitive skin in some way or another, but he knew sleep would take him eventually. Even so..the journey in making it there was a miserable one.
When he wasn’t physically tossing or turning, his mind was finding new ways to slowly pick away at him.
But through all of it, all of the struggles to believe in his own worth, all of the false hopes he told himself just to push through the slow days, and all of the deep-rooted doubts for anything to change: there was a light.
Even when this light burned low, it would remain constant. Lance would not allow himself to be a lost cause, even when he believed he was. Even when his mind told him he was nothing more than an annoyance, he pressed on.
There were people who cared for him, even when his mind screamed otherwise.
Lance took a shaky breath, clutching at the bedsheets he’d bunched close to his body as he laid on his side. He wanted the heavy feelings in his heart to disappear, but at the same time the idea of losing his destructive way of coping felt like losing an old friend.
“It’s okay..” He whispered to himself, curling up in his bed.
There was something beautifully terrifying in his simple words of self-comfort, something that brought a sense of false warmth. Lance chose to dismiss it in favour of getting some sleep.
He closed his eyes, listening to the rain once again.
Somehow, he felt just a little less lonely.