the title says enough that i don't have to go into a long rant of how societal expectations have wronged us as humans and it's become weird for half of the population to show a part of themselves that God intended everyone to have. masculinity shouldn't be defined by how deeply you have suppressed your emotions or how big your muscles are capable of being-okay i'll stop cuz that equals about a rant, huh? woops
mastered this song on rocksmith when i was like fifteen
i think i enjoy putting 80's songs on here when Ady hates them lol
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"Kimmy said you'd be back here."
Adrian slumps against the wall, his legs spreading out on the sand-covered cement. Daffy sits beside him. Gravel crunches as she skids down to the ground. A cloud of dust settles on her flower skirt, making the local daisies on the print a little brown.
"What happened to your face?" she asks, blatantly staring at the bruises on his cheeks.
He swallows, still not looking her in the eye. Instead, he focuses on the little weeds popping through the cracks of the concrete, and then the backyard of the house that sits behind the diner. The grass is a lot healthier than Lyla's.
His bottom lip goes between his teeth as he drags his gaze to the awaiting Daffy.
There's that weird feeling again. That feeling that he should tell her everything because if he doesn't, the world will collapse or he's gonna combust if he keeps these secrets any longer.
It's okay, right? To tell this secret?
Her eyes speak nothing but trust. And so he opens his mouth, throat all dried up and gravelly just like the cement they sit on.
"Benny's dad happened. When he was drunk..."
A gasp tingles his ears. He watches Daffy's expression mirror his feelings; her hand comes up to her mouth.
"Is Benny okay?"
Adrian's head bobs and he resorts to his lap, rubbing at a stain on his jeans.
"Did you call the police?"
"His mom won't let the police get involved."
"But, but we have to do something. What if Benny gets hurt?"
"He doesn't lay a finger on him. I have to respect Lyla's decision..."
"Her decision? You can't do that, Adrian. Benny could be in danger." Her tone falls deeper and deeper with every word. "She doesn't deserve that power if she chooses for him to stay in that situation." Daffy's hands curl into fists.
"But it's not like that-she's doing it because they have no choice-"
"That's what social services is for. Adrian, we have to help, even if it stings."
He looks back at her, noticing the fiery determination in her eyes. Maybe it was a bad idea to tell her.
She pulls out her phone, jaw clenched.
"What are you doing?" he mumbles, freezing.
"Calling an inspector. This has to stop right now."
"No, no, no, we shouldn't get involved-"
"Shut it," she commands, the rings sliding out of the speaker and into the air. He hears a voice on the other end. "Hi, I would like to report possible domestic violence."
The next moments swirl into a blur as Benny's cries sound through the diner and reach to the back.
Adrian and Daffy share a look, bolting up and into the kitchen door. Benny collides with Adrian's waist, sobs filling the silenced room as the cooks and Kimmy stand motionless.
"Hurry! We have to hurry!" he yells, pulling Adrian's arm.
"Did you run here?" Adrian asks, that cloudy feeling covering up the world just like it did last night. His body is slipping into defense mode and it's fight or flight.
He grips Benny's hand, breaking into a run back down the sidewalk, not even registering Daffy beside him. He doesn't notice her voice, yelling details and directions to... the police.
They reach the house, slamming through the door to find Lyla, kneeling on the floor. Her husband lays, face planted into the blood-spattered carpet. They all stop a few feet away, breaths ragged. The open door lets in a sparse beam of light on the scene, giving the room the feeling of a dark and hidden space where so much fear and pain prolonged the nights.
"I didn't think he'd do it... he would never do it..." Lyla mutters, wide eyes zoomed out of focus. Her hand is curled around the base of a broken vase. It vibrates in her white grip.
Adrian looks down at Benny, seeing forming bruises on his little arms.
He finally did it. He finally hurt Benny. And Lyla took action.
Relief floods his chest and he takes his first real breath, resisting the desire to pull Benny into his arms and cry. He should help Lyla, tell her she's gonna be okay. He should check Fleming's pulse. He should make sure Benny is alright. He should... he should... do something.
Instead, he wanders out the door, dropping to the steps.
And he stays there. When the sirens sound through the warping air. When the paramedics run up the steps past him. When the police enter the house, and when they carry Fleming on a stretcher and put him in the van.
He stays, his elbows on his knees, eyes wide, focused on rocks and weeds.
They are safe. They will be okay. And, if Daffy never called...
He bites his tongue hard. What would've happened if he didn't tell Daffy? What would've happened to Benny? And to think, he tried to stop Daffy from calling.
He is... utterly pathetic.
Why would God let him take care of this, let this situation fall apart in his incapable hands? How could he be of any help to anyone-
A blanket is dropped on his shoulders. He flinches as two hands pull it around him and bunch it to the front.
Daffy is suddenly next to him, holding a blue mug. She picks up one of his hands, shoving the hot cup into it.
"You're in shock," she says, still in her matter-of-fact voice. "You must be cold."
He doesn't take notice of the chill in his bones as he unconsciously sips the hot liquid. Cocoa. Way too sweet, but whatever. Huh, it's warm though. It feels nice.
...
They walk back to the diner together. Slowly. Silently.
The rest of the day slips away as Kimmy sends him home and he sits in his gray couch till sleep pulls at the seams of reality.
...
Life, resilient like a rubber band, bounces back to normal. Kind of. The hustle and bustle of routine sinks in and no matter what Kimmy says, Adrian continues to work. She offered him a week off, but he refused.
Sleep is the right word for the state of Adrian's mind the next few days. Like a looped video, the scenes of that day play over and over in his head. Reality feels like a dream, a repetitive and meaningless dream. Wake up, work, sleep, repeat. Benny's absence makes the hours and days blur together into a ball of a drug-like experience. Floating.
Daffy doesn't show either. Although his brain tries to convince him it's a relief that he doesn't have to deal with her, his chest plays a hollow rhythm.
It's for the best. Distance is what I need right now. No matter the way he tries to convince himself of this fact, no other part of him believes it.
: Thursday :
: a week later :
Benny begins to come in every day again, still the same little boy he was before all of that happened. He sits at the bar, coloring more often now. Just a little more silent. A little less interested in his dinosaur.
His dad is now in prison (yes, he's alive), and Lyla's sister offered them a place to stay for however long they need. God works in mysterious ways...
The painted windows cast multicolored rays across the room and floor, shading the diner with every tone of the rainbow. Adrian stands at the bar, his broom resting on the ledge. His notebook is flipped open to the page of his bird doodles. With his stump of a pencil, he adds a smaller bird at the corner, and another one in an empty space at the top.
Glancing up, he sees Daffy sitting at the bar right next to him. The pads of her fingers drum the counter as she watches him. Her smile makes her eyes squint. He hasn't seen her since last Monday.
His heart swells to the point of bursting. Clearing his throat, he pulls out the plug of the bottom of his heart to let it deflate into a flat pancake.
Stupid heart.
"Hey, so..." Daffy brings back his attention. Her blue nails tap up and down continuously. "Benny told me how you punched that guy," she lifts her eyebrows, glossy lips curving up. "That was unbelievably brave. You know, I only saw you freak out at the house, but I didn't know you could hold your own like that."
Adrian bites his cheek, hands wrapping around his broom handle. She saw him, a helpless, little boy because of his panic attack during the thunderstorm and inability to help Lyla and Benny. The thought oddly stings. He pushes the comebacks away, turning from the bar and sweeping the floor again.
"That was supposed to be a compliment," Daffy sighs. She follows him around the chairs.
"Thanks," he grumbles. "Really know how to make a person feel good."
"Okay, so what I mean is, you are way cooler than you give yourself credit for," she tries again.
He raises an eyebrow, giving too much focus to his strokes.
Daffy groans. "Ugh! I just! I just wanna go out to dinner with you, okay?"
Adrian stops, bolting upright. His back faces her as it stiffens.
Daffy doesn't notice, now staring at the floor as she messes with her keys.
"My friends told me to give a compliment before popping the question..."
He doesn't turn around, he doesn't even breathe. His mouth goes dry, heart losing control. Isn't that what he always wanted to hear? What he craved to feel in those null years of just existing?
Flashes of his mother greet his mind. Her smiling face and serene laugh. And then his father appears beside her, swaying with the breeze. No, with the alcohol. And he morphs into Fleming, face growing twisted with rage, but then he realizes he's looking in a mirror. He's looking at Fleming. He's looking at himself. Where is the difference?
Guilt pokes little holes in the re-inflating heart and once again, it drains out. Whatever filled his heart floods into his chest and there's suddenly fifty pounds inside him, making it difficult to breathe. He droops a little, coming back to the present moment to notice that Daffy still waits for an answer.
Like an idiot, he stays facing the window, watching her reflection in the glass.
She looks down at her hands, locks of blond hair falling across her face. The sunlight makes it glow like gold, and her cherry lips shimmer as she purses them and parts them in a strange rhythm.
The weight inside him only grows heavier as he swallows and releases his words. Like daggers.
"Sorry, Daffodil, I don't see you like that."
The air hardens along with her demeanor. She takes a long breath, nodding a little too quickly.
"Ah, I see; using my full name, now..." Her words linger in a breathy laugh. "Yeah, sure, I understand. Thanks for being honest. I, uh, appreciate it." With that, she clutches her keys, making a beeline for the door.
"This is for the better," he whispers, clenching his teeth. His forehead settles against the broom handle. "Nobody gets hurt."
===========Aug-somthin'-21==========
pub, Jan-16-22
I've been watching this spider build a web for the past three hours, right above my computer. now I get whey they have so many legs...
i guess I should tell you, i'm writing this without a script. I literally have no idea where this story is going. it's like i'm reading this with you. what's gonna happen next??? the suspense is killing me 😱