CHAPTER 1- IN LOVE'S NAME - IV

Standing in front of the trash room, I begin to feel horribly daunted. Massive black bags stuffed full of trash all await me with an overwhelming energy. It feels like I'm gonna be sucked into them whole where I stand. It isn't until I feel Michael's hand tap my shoulder that I'm brought back to reality. He cocks his head at me, I assume in concern, and I flash him a smile, hoping that's enough for him. I know, they're just trash bags, but honestly, I've been uncomfortable since the moment Chris agreed for us to come here, so I know my worry is just my own nerves speaking for the entirety of me, but I can't even bother acting like I wanna be here, cause I absolutely don't. Come on Chris, put together how weird this feels and let's leave! I pick up one of the bags, and so does Michael, and together we make our way out of the room and down the hall. Said hall is filled with exactly three doors of equal mystery to their contents and 1 portrait, of a man and woman, who both seem displeased to be where they are. I can relate.

"Are those your parents?"

"Yes." Michael answers gently, not looking over at the portrait. Ah, it must be something painful. A part of me regrets asking, choosing to change attention to the end of the hall, where there is one extra bit of decoration. A small side table, and sitting atop it, a flower vase with a single flower inside. A strange one, with lots of red parts extending out and up from the stem. It's pretty, though. I ask him what it's about and that seems to make things worse, as he stops in his tracks and stares directly at the flower. "Uhm...that's for our parents." He says. "We found one and thought they would like to see it when they came back." Michael says. The feeling of there being something more that is being held back makes me ask something really insensitive. I ask if they are coming back. Michael lowers his head. "..." He doesn't answer. I don't ask anything else. Instead, I let my arms wrap around him. He seems to jolt, before going limp in my embrace. "You're...not nice." He whispers. I nod, and apologize. I feel his arms slowly rising, and moving to hold me as well. "But you're warm..." His voice sounds even quieter than a whisper, as if I'm hearing the truth of the words I'm supposed to be hearing.

"I'd just say I'm good at hugs." I chuckle, before sighing. "After we take out this trash, let's talk ok?" I ask, and feel him nod against my shoulder.

...

With a grunt, I manage to get the very last bag placed down next to the massive pile of other bags. Jesus, how the hell does so much trash even make sense. I get a lot of people stay here, but at some point we get to the point that it has to be intentional. I grumble to myself as Michael comes back to me with a can of tea. Taking it, I gleefully slurp down, feeling my weary muscles start to recover.  With a sigh, I enjoy the moment of relaxation. I feel like I haven't used any muscles besides my leg muscles in eons. It's undeniably great. Brining the can back to my lips, I notice Michael sitting down and staring out at the massive parking lot. The rest of the area that this shelter is settled in is part of an old strip-mall, so plenty of cars are parked while their occupants are looking through the aging clothing and game shops. I sit down next to him, setting my drink to the side, as I try and think about what I even wanna ask. I was to busy being concerned to actually come up with anything.

"Uhm, I...was there, when they died." He decided to start for me. Speaking quietly, he let his words gently flow through the air. "It was an explosion. I...wasn't at the exact spot, but I was still inside. My brother...didn't get home before I had already been burned pretty badly. He still managed to get me out. He even tried to save mom and dad, but, of course he couldn't. Even then, at least he tried. I just laid there. I just waited. I feel like...I'm still waiting." He began to hug his knees. "The only thing pulling me forward is him." He says. "So much better, so much stronger. I hardly have to think as long as he's with me. Isn't that safer? Better?" It sounded like he wasn't trying to convince himself. He just wanted to be justified. By someone he didn't even know. Safer to not think for yourself. Something about that...boiled my blood.

"That's not true." I tell him. He looks up from his knees. "It's not better. It's not safer. You're just..." I stop. No, he's not. I'm just... "I'll prove it to you." I say. I grab his hand. "I'll show you what it means to be independent." I say, as if it'll solve all his problems. Honestly, what's wrong with me? Still, he stares at me, he's listening to me. I can feel the weight of his expectations hanging over my shoulders. Say something more, something truly convincing. I feel my lips starting to twitch, but no sound will come out. Really? Are you just gonna tell him what you think is right and leave it at that? No reasons? No nothing?! Say something! Say it!

MAKE YOURSELF BELIEVE IT TOO, YOU STUPID DOORMAT!

"They need protecting too, right?" I finally say. That seems to do it. I feel his hand freeze, as if I've said something he's never once considered himself. Looking down at our connected hands, he moves his fingers to wrap around mine. 

"Please...show me how to protect my big brother." He asks me. I nod.

"We'll see how together!"