Chapter 5 (Heaven and Back)

Mitchel

He was in Heaven, and then he was back on Earth in his bandmate's bedroom. On his bed. In his sheets. And he could hear it.

The stupid song that played in his head. 

He was sure that no one else could hear his song and in that moment he felt like was going crazy. The song taunted him as he laid on Christian's bed, and it seemed like it was telling him to do something. 

Mitchel sat up. "This is crazy," He whispered to himself. He looked around the room. The song was becoming more and more clearer, as if Clinton had come home and hooked it up to their speakers. But his brother was not home. There were no lyrics. It glitched sometimes, and skipped to new notes. But it all sounded the same. Or part of something. 

He knew that the song wouldn't go away. He'd gotten used to it when it played quietly in the back of his head, but now it was unbearably loud. It drowned out his thoughts and made his vision blurry. Mitchel quickly slipped out of his best friend's bed, and made his way into his room. He walked over to his bedside table and opened the top drawer, pulling out his secret songbook. 

He flipped to the last pages he'd written on, his eyes skimming over the lyrics of his song. And then it clicked. Usually when he wrote his secret songs, they were choppy and didn't flow. They were just strings of words and emotions on paper. But Mitchel finished the lyrics to his newest song, and as he read over the lines, he realized that they went well with the tune in his head. 

He'd been subconsciously thinking of Red Blood, and pieced together an audio for it all in his head. Mitchel sighed, knowing that he'd only be satisfied it he finished it.

And then there he was: In the little recording studio at his house. Mitchel worked for hours, determined to finish it. It would be choppy without Clinton, he knew, but he didn't care. Mitchel was driven, and he hadn't felt that feeling in a really long time. It was refreshing.  

He finished the song at four in the morning, much earlier than he'd expected. The completed song was only just over a minute, but that was fine. It was perfect, as imperfect as it was. 

As a form of celebration, Mitchel pulled a bottle of wine from the glass pantry in the kitchen. Though he finished the song, it wouldn't leave his head. He was tired and wanted to sleep, but Mitchel knew better, and knew that the song would chase him in his dreams. So he listened to the song on loop, and drank his wine. 

Though it was unintentional, he drank it all. Mitchel fell asleep at seven in the morning, his song still playing in his headphones. 

+ + +

The sun beat down on their backs as they played basketball at Christian's house. Mitchel was loosing by eight points, and Christian was getting cocky. It pissed Mitchel off, but it was cute too. Christian tossed Mitchel the ball and then backed up. 

"Wanna play Fifa after this?" Mitchel asked. Christian nodded and replied, "After you get another point." 

Mitchel groaned, earning a laugh from his best friend. "We'll be here forever," He whined. Christian laughed and lunged at him. "I'll go easy on you," he told him. 

Mitchel let out a surprised yelp and skidded out of the way of his friend. Christian was quick though, and snatched the ball away from Mitchel as he dribbled. He turned around and shot at the hoop, the ball effortlessly sailing through the knotted cloth. 

"Yes!" Christian clapped for himself, and then picked up the rolling basketball. Mitchel was sprawled on the concrete of Christian's driveway, sweat trickling down the side of his face. "Enough," He told him. "No more. You're too good." 

Christian leaned over Mitchel, his hands on his knees. His body blocked out the hot summer sun, and Mitchel silently thanked Christian for unintentionally providing him shade. "I'm gonna beat you again, Mitty." Christian told him. "It's just gonna be in a videogame instead." 

Mitchel helplessly shrugged. "Help me up," He said. Christian stuck out his hand and Mitchel took it gratefully, enjoying the feel of their intertwined fingers. Christian hauled Mitchel up and lead him into his cool and airconditioned house. 

Two weeks prior, the boys convinced their parents to let them have a sleepover during their break. Mitchel stayed at Christian's house and they slept in the same room for the week. Christian eagerly took Mitchel surfing and they hung out together outside from sunrise to sunset every day. Mitchel would head back home the next day, and they wouldn't see each other for a while. 

That's why he watched Christian as he did simple things. He savored the image of his best friend the entire week, and even more on their last day together. Mitchel loved looking at him; Christian was truly a beautiful guy. More than anything, he wanted to run his fingers through his golden blond hair, and know that he felt the same. 

When his lovely green eyes met his own, he felt his heart flutter in a way that no girl could ever make happen. Christian was special, and though Mitchel was only sixteen, he knew that he wanted to be close with him for the rest of his life. That was love. Mitchel loved everything he did: he loved his voice when he sang, loved it when he got excited about freshwater, even loved the way Christian rolled up his sleeves to show off his new muscles. 

Mitchel thought about that as Christian walked back into his room with two bottles of water. (Even the way he holds bottled water is nice)"Whatcha thinkin' bout?" Christian asked as he handed Mitchel one of the clear bottles. Mitchel took it, his eyes never leaving Christian's face. "Nothing," He said dreamily. 

When Christian gave him a puzzled look, he snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat. "Anyway, lets play," He said and took a small sip of water. 

Christian won the match just as he said, but Mitchel didn't loose by much. When they were done, they took turns sharing music they liked. They laid on Christian's bed and listened with one earbud in their ears, listening to each song. 

"This one's good," Mitchel said. Christian nodded though Mitchel didn't see. His eyes were closed. "It's a little slower, but probably one of the best." Christian told him. This time it was Mitchel's turn to nod. 

They were listening to Stairway To Heaven by Led Zeppelin, and Mitchel couldn't help but think that Christian was giving him a hint.  At about five minutes into the song before it sped up, Mitchel sat up, pulling the earbud out of his ear. Christian watched him calmly. 

"Christian," Mitchel said quietly. The blond boy removed the earbud from his left ear. He sat up. "Yeah?" 

He knew that it was sudden and Christian would probably be surprised, but he knew he had to do it. He wasn't sure when he'd see his best friend again, but he quickly realized that he'd regret not saying anything then. So he took a deep breath and said, "I like you" despite the fact that his heart was beating wildly and he felt like it would burst out of his chest at any moment. He was dizzy from the nervousness, and almost regretted the statement as soon as he said it. 

But Christian didn't do anything. It concerned him, and he thought he didn't say it loud enough for Christian to hear. Maybe he hadn't even said it at all. He was about to open his mouth and say it again, but he finally replied. 

"What?" He asked. A dark blush coloured his cheeks, and he felt stupid for having to repeat himself. "I said..." He took another deep breath. "I like you. A lot." The words tumbled out of his mouth again, and he stuttered over them. 

Christian furrowed his brows. "I don't get it. That was a joke, right?" He asked. "What does it mean?"  Mitchel bit his lip patiently, squeezing his fingers. His heart wouldn't slow, and he wondered if this was always how love confessions went. Of course it wasn't, though. Mitchel was a boy, and so was Christian. He didn't even know if Christian was gay, let alone himself. At the time, Mitchel wasn't aware that there were more than two sexualities.

"It means that I think of you as more than my friend," He explained. Christian still had that stupid puzzled look on his face, like he couldn't quite comprehend what Mitchel was saying. He was a very smart guy, but he sure was clueless when it came to crushes. Especially when Mitchel wasn't exactly as good at hiding his love for him as he thought he was.

"Like a best friend? We already are, mate." Christian smiled and ruffled his hair. His glowing face gave Mitchel the confidence to lean forward and eliminate the small space between them. He placed his hand in front of Christian's crossed legs to steady himself. 

"No," He said quietly. "Like this," He told him, and lightly pressed his lips against Christian's. To his surprise, Christian didn't pull away abruptly and punch him across his face. But he also didn't kiss him back. Christian sat there like a rock and stared at him, not even bothering to close his eyes. 

He wanted his best friend to lean into the kiss and brace his neck tenderly. Instead he got nothing. Maybe that's what hurt him the most: his indifference. 

Mitchel sat back, biting his bottom lip in disappointment. He could barely bring himself to look at Christian in the eyes. "Why'd you do that?" Christian asked. He had a hint of annoyance in his tone. Mitchel tried to laugh it off, but it hurt too much. "Nevermind," He said and slid off of his best friend's bed. "I'm going to the bathroom," He said coolly, and left Christian alone with his thoughts. 

Mitchel rushed down the hall and flipped the light switch before closing the door. He stood still for a few moments, looking at himself in the mirror. His hands and jaw shook. He stared at himself for less than a minute before sliding to the floor and tucking his head into his knees and arms. Hot tears streamed down his face as he cried silently for a few minutes before washing his face and blowing his nose. 

He then walked back into Christian's room to find him still on his bed. They listened to music for the rest of the afternoon and then Mitchel left the next day. They didn't talk for a few months, but when they finally did, they acted like nothing happened. 

It was for the best, Mitchel figured. But maybe it wasn't. Sometimes wounds don't heal, and they keep ripping open. And then they leave ugly scars.