Chapter Text
I have always been terribly shy.
When some friends visited my parents, I’d always run away. I used to have many dens in my house, but the attic has remained my favourite one for years. I would come out of my den only when the guests left or hid.
I had few friends; it was hard for me to trust someone fully, the person had to earn it and it could take years. But once the trust was lost, it could never be built up once again. When one disappoints me once, I am not able to trust once again.
All my relationships have always been unstable and labile; I had girlfriends and I had boyfriends, I didn’t complain about the lack of attention. But I have never opened my heart to anyone, my inside. I was afraid of being hurt but I’d never confessed that out loud.
Deep down I was a really sensitive person and it was easy to hurt me. However, on the outside I kept the appearances, clenched my teeth and kept going on, clawing my way.
I was a typical Scorpio, difficult and complicated, many couldn’t stand my tough character. It wasn’t easy to stand me, sometimes I couldn’t even stand myself.
The only person who accepted me unconditionally the way I was, was Rob.
Rob and I have known each other since we were children, we were even born in the same hospital in Birmingham. Only with the difference that he was born at the end of August and I at the end of October; however, he was a premature baby he had to stay in the incubator for a couple of weeks and I guess this is when we first met.
Our mothers worked together as nurses and our fathers drank beer together. When my parents would leave somewhere without knowing what to do with me, they’d always leave me with the Halfords. The same thing worked with Rob and later on with his younger sister, Anne.
I and Rob often passed for twin brothers. Same age, blond hair. Only the colour of our eyes differed but it happens with fraternal twins. Sometimes we were having someone on that we were brothers, and no-one would ever surmise anything and we had a lot of fun. But in reality, we were as different as night and day.
He was very mature with opposition to me. Always meticulous and careful. He put me out of trouble thanks to his diplomatic skills and he also kept me out of trouble. Rob would always think before he did something – I’d always think afterwards, only when I felt how something hurts. I’d put my hands directly into the fire to see if it burns – for him, the only conjecture was enough.
Rob’s room was well-organised; the books were standing in their order on the shelves, the music albums were standing, grouped by bands' names and year of release. His handwriting was neat, small letters with flourishes. I was writing with hieroglyphs and my room has always looked as if a herd of cows ran throughout it.
For Rob, time was an inviolability, he was never late for school, there must have something serious happened if he was late. For him, three o’clock is three o’clock. For me, though, it could be as well five past three or quarter past three. I could’ve never done anything on time.
Rob was a lark; his biological clock would always wake him up at seven, even during summer break. When he wanted to wake up earlier, he had to set the alarm clock, but only then. I was an owl: I’d go to bed late and wake up late, I liked sleeping long and this is why I was often late for school.
Rob was an honours student, he did it well especially in general science that required clear and logical thinking. He’d go to all those mathematical and physics competitions, get the distinctions or stand on the podium. I didn’t buckle down to learning, I hated school. I’d play truants very often. Rob also hated school but he had a different way to express it – by going to it. Even when he had 38 degrees of fever, he toiled towards the school and stayed at classes. Sometimes he skipped off along with me, but he’s always had a good excuse for his absence and teachers always believed him. But for me – never. Even when I spoke the truth.
Rob didn’t like changes; he liked all that was still, the routine. He was a planner and he could be very accurate with his plans. I preferred a change, spontaneity. I liked to be surprised, find something new to do. However, deep inside I missed some stability in my life.
I could’ve always relied on him. Rob would never blab a secret, I knew he wouldn’t say it even if subjected to the worst torture. That was our common feature – I was also a very loyal person. Once I’m attached to someone, it’s hard for me to drift apart.
He had a great memory. To everything. He could recite whole monologues from Shakespeare’s works, poems, recall people’s faces, melodies, digits. I was poor at remembering the faces or digits but I did well at remembering melodies. It would happen often that I’d hum a song and he would snap fingers and say the title. We complemented each other.
Rob seemed to be proper and dutiful – and he was like that – however, I was the only one who knew about his inner hesitations and dilemmas. He wasn’t the type who’d go for broke, risk or make brave and bold decisions. We were similar in that way – we had many inner conflicts if pressured.
We both were intelligent and clever but every one of us in his own way; Rob had more logical-mathematical intelligence, I relied more on existential and intra-personal intelligence which he lacked. We both lacked interpersonal intelligence and social skills connected to this, however, we were both musical smart; and this is how we spent most of our time together.
Rob had a beautiful voice. He’d sing everything – beginning with opera arias to some shitty radio pop songs. His parents, fortunately, decided to do something with his talent, found him a teacher, sent him to sing in a church choir. He also played the piano, I taught him how to play the guitar. However, it was the singing that was his greatest love and talent. I loved the guitar and I gave whole my soul and heart to it. I loved Jimi Hendrix above all, I’d play his solos for hours until my father came back from work and started yelling at me. My parents weren’t as enthusiastic as Rob’s parents when it came to music. They said that my guitar was a boondoggle and I should focus on something more serious and grow up in the end.
Always the same words: you could grow up finally, Kenneth.
Rob’s room was my safe haven, he was my tower of strength. Our fathers weren’t good to us, they liked to hit us from time to time, especially while drunk. Rob endured it somehow, he’d clench his teeth and forgive but I couldn’t be this way; I rebelled, especially when I started filling out. I even started hitting my father back what would end in dust-ups and calling the police.
After such contretemps, I’d always run away to Rob for two, three days. He understood, never asked until I told him everything. He was a great listener.
Robert John Arthur Halford. Everyone called him Rob, he let only me call himself by his full name, he didn’t really like it. And I was called K.K., I let only him call me Kenny. It worked both ways.
Rob. My dearest friend. I fell in love with him when we were around fifteen years old. Then nothing was the same anymore.