Alone again (byler)

Chapter 9

Some Byer siblings appreciation.

Will

"You're mad at me." I insolently state as I sit down next to Jonathan on his rumpled bed.

"Im not- why would I be mad at you?" Jonathan averts.

"Everyone is. I did some stupid stuff yesterday. I got drunk. I got angry. I don't exactly remember what I said but i know it was mean. You're mad at me and so is everyone." I release a morose sigh.

It's the truth. They are mad at me. They're mad at me for lying and they're mad at me for the stupid stuff I said.  They're mad at me for getting drunk when it's the literal apocalypse. And,  I deserve it. I deserve their anger.

I deserve their hatred.

"No one is mad at you, Will." Jonathan gently places his hand on my back.

"They should be." I retort.

" No they shouldn't. Your friends aren't mad, Will.  I think they just want to help you."  Jonathan collectedly explains.

"They can't fix me."

"You don't need to be fixed." He steadily assures me. .

"Yes I do." I argue.

I do.

Deep down I've always known  that I've needed  to be fixed. I tried so hard to deny the truth.

I tried I really tried. But, i'm tired. I know the truth and I'm sure everyone is starting to figure it out. They will sooner or later.

Then, they'll leave. I've come to terms with that. I'm okay.

The hard fact to swallow is that there is something seriously wrong with me.

The way I think. How I think. What I think. It's distorted. Crooked. Wrong.

Not normal.

There is something wrong  with me. Something wrong with my brain, my thoughts and the way my mind works. It's something that's always layed dormant within me like a virus or disease.

So, yes. Yes, I do need to be fixed but the worse thing is whatever sickness I've been cursed with is incurable.

There is no cure.

So, now all I can do is wallow in self pity as I await the inevitable.

"No you don't." Jonathan replies; his words brash.

Silence.

"They don't want to fix you. They want to help you." He continues.

"They can't help me." I fight back.

"What can't they help you with?" He starts.

"Nothing."

"Will, what is it they can't help you with?" He calmly repeats all the more obtrusive.

"Don't- Don't be like this. You know, Jonathan.." I sigh stammering in discomfort.

He knows. Of course he knows. He's my brother. I'm not stupid. I know what he meant to say in California. He wanted me to say it. To say what I am. But, I couldn't.

I can't.

" I don't know anything you haven't told me." He quietly assures.

That's bull.

"That I'm- this is stupid. The world is ending and we're doing this now? It's stupid. Selfish." I lurch on in dread.

"It's not stupid or selfish."