That is what we are in the end, stories

Bonus points for missing spleen

Sick Tim and worried Bruce! Here you go!

come home.

just for a minute.

or even a second.

come back.

like you always say you will.

or just answer a text,

anything

anything to let me know you’re still out there,

that you still think of me,

that you know i exist and that you care.

i hope you care.

i suppose i wouldn’t know.

when did we turn into this?

we ran into each other outside the supermarket.

i had to stop myself from asking the question i wanted.

because i knew it would make me cry.

because i know you’ll say,

‘yes, i’ll come home tomorrow

sure, i’ll come see you

okay, i’ll text you back’

and you said it anyway.

and i know it’s a lie.

every time i know it’s a lie.

but every time i believe you.

i tell mum,

‘i know he says it all the time,

but this time is different.

this time he means it.

because he is my brother.

and he loves me.

he wouldn’t just leave me here.’

right?

where are you?

do you really not think of me?

when she was upset,

before this had become a big thing,

before months had passed,

i told her,

‘it’s okay. it will be over soon. soon he’ll come home.’

because you are my brother.

and i never thought you would leave me here.

alone in the belly of the beast.

i would never have done this to you.

i would have done anything for you.

i remember in primary school when i got my first ever detention and you found out and threatened to tell mum.

i was so desperate i did anything you wanted until eventually she found out.

i let you choose what shows we watched.

i got you drinks when you were thirsty.

i always let you sit in the front seat.

and i think i’ve always resented you a little for that.

because i remember feeling helpless and confused,

i remember wondering why my brother wouldn’t just help me.

i guess a part of me is always just waiting for my brother to help me.

thinking about it now as i write this all down,

i can’t help but wonder if maybe i should have seen this coming.

on my birthday, you told me ‘happy birthday’ at the same time as everyone else did in the family group chat,

and you didn’t come see me.

i can’t help but wonder if you’ve ever actually been the brother i remember you being.

but then i remember the times you would get me to sit in your loud car, showing me your favourite songs and how the bass rumbles with your new speakers.

and i remember you driving me to school every morning,

that one time a bird flew right into us going 100 and we both looked at each other going,

“eeeeeeeeeeeew!”

i remember you asking me to put one of my face masks on you, clipping your hair back so it won’t stick to your face.

and the memories hurt.

i remember finding out you had been cutting yourself in year 10.

i remember walking in on the aftermath,

pieces of glass on your bedroom floor,

or was it some cut up plastic?

it was something that made me think,

‘my brother isn’t invincible.

he’s just like me.

and i want to be his friend.’

i think ever since then i’ve just wanted to be your friend.

someone you could lean on and vice versa.

when i told mum that this would all be over soon,

it was because i couldn’t image a life without my brother.

without my worst enemy

and my greatest friend.

and then you didn’t come see me the day after the supermarket.

i sent you a message when mum wanted to go out

incase you came when we were gone.

even when i wrote that message i thought,

‘he’s not going to come.

and he will never come.

my brother is never coming home.’

and what is a home without my brother?

it’s nothing.

i love you, brother.

and i hate you.

and these two feelings are pulling me apart.

if you do come home,

i don’t think i’ll be here.

i’ll hide behind curtains.

and i’ll wait until the thrum of your car doesn’t shake the house,

until you’re streets away,

and then i’ll go into what was once your room,

and i’ll do the same thing i’ve been doing every time i have to turn the wi-fi back on;

i’ll slip on your green cap,

left behind just like me,

and remember a time when you would have gotten annoyed,

telling me to give it back,

maybe even told me to leave you alone.

tell me to leave you alone.

tell me to stop messaging you to tell you i love you and i miss you.

tell me anything.

tell me you hate me.

tell me i’m the reason you left.

because i asked for too much.

or tell me you’re just going through something.

tell me it’s no one’s fault.

tell me

tell me you’ll come see me tomorrow.

and i’ll believe you.

"Wanna get you alone, caress your collar bone

that one twitter thing but with cass and boone