{Xylander} No one's here; I'll fall into myself

[francois simeon del roque.]

Life had become dull once more. Everyday, mundane tasks were now becoming pointless, meaningless to the petite French boy. It was like standing by on the side lines and watching everything fly away and pass right by him, not even giving him a second glance when looking back. But then again, wasn't everything in life like this? Wasn't every aspect of living false? Francois was convinced on this answer; yes, it indeed was. The fake smiles and drowning laughter had become weak once more, and in all honesty it had become routine for the boy. Every day without fail was just another false emotion, more fake smiles and stupid lies; there was just no end to it. Yeah, the friends helped him through the day...but they weren't real either. Not one person he knew or counted as a "friend" probably cared about him. Even that one boy, the one he tried so hard to tell himself didn't care either, was still in the back of his mind. There was still that small sliver, a minuscule string of hope that highlighted the most pitch black sanctums of his brain; the one thing he could not get rid of.

No matter what he did, there was still hope in it all. Hope that one day, someone would take pity upon this meaningless existence and just...just be there for him. Hope that one day someone would care. Hope that one day would be proven false. No one cared in the end. Everyone was selfish, and that was the end of it. Though...he couldn't deal with it, the endless battle that raged on inside his head about the boy who had taken him in like a homeless animal. did he...no, Francois was trying to drill it into his head; the boy didn't care about him. He was most likely doing it to fill some type of self-fulfilling prophecy, something to make himself feel better in the end.

And that is why Francois had everything else. That is why he had his dancing, his body; to just keep pushing and pushing the bounds of reality until it was simply not there anymore. He didn't want to keep reality right now. He wanted to erase these feelings, he wanted to erase the large purple mark that garlanded his eye like a decoration; but he could not. He contemplated going to dance once more, dance until nothing else mattered...but he was already weak, body fatigued...and sometimes...sometimes dancing until you broke was not enough. Sometimes when pushing yourself to the limit, other emotions surface; more powerful, prominant...painful, emotions. And that is why he had his friend still. To this day, he would carry it with him at all times, and never would it leave his side. The one thing that he knew would never abandon him, the one thing he knew would always be there for him...the last thing he had to take away the pain of living.

Cold, metallic, lifeless; this was the only real friend he could have; and this friend was there for him. This friend would stay with him until he didn't need him...but right now, or, a few hours ago...he had been needed. The bounded heap of the boy lay on the empty staircase of the deserted school...and that was when he truly felt the sting of being alone. The whispers, the yells, the tongue lashing of so many other students whirled around inside his head. The deafening silence brought forth a new, even worse type of feeling. It was the feeling of being left with your own thoughts and your own pain, inside and out. And that is when it had become too much. That was when the weight of life began to crush and destroy the boy, and he had to get away from it; he had to escape, and there was only one way he knew how.

The gripping bite of the crude metal blade on his baby like skin was welcomed. It was like seeing an old family member, one you had missed for a very long time. The salt-water gently streamed down his rosy cheeks, and soon it mixed in with the tainted sorrows of his wrist, and a scarlet river trailed down and onto the steps the boy was curled up against. Staining everything he touched, his fragile being began to shake as a tremor ripped through him. There was a sob; he had to get out now. As if his life was dependent on his secret, he shoved the dirty razer into his backpack and headed away, covering his wrists with his sweatshirt sleeves.

It didn't take him long to get out of the school and towards the apartment Xylander had let him stay in. His tears evaporated; the only trace left of them being the stream of black, watery eyeliner down his cheeks. He moved into the house with haste, shutting the door behind him. He moved into the living area of the house and put his backpack on the side of the sofa, not caring enough to notice the blade stabbing out the side and turning the fabric of the bag red along with anything else it touched. The feeble boy rushed into the bathroom, shutting the door half way and leaving it open, turning on the water and using his shaking hand to lift up the sleeve of his right arm.

A small gasp was heard as the cuts made contact with chillingly cold water, more tears deciding to move against the boy's will, now mixing in well with the water running down his wrist. Scarlet tears soon consumed that of the entire sink as his whole body quaked beneath it. His left sleeve was stained with the bitter taste of bloodied copper, along with his ruptured lip in the middle. The boy seemed to be just dripping and radiating agony; but there was no stopping it. There never has been, there never will be; and there certainly wasn't a way to stop it right now; a sad fact Francois kept in the back of his mind;

There was never any hope of stopping it.

[xylander]

HE’S A REAL NOWHERE MAN
SITTING IN HIS NOWHERE LAND
MAKING ALL HIS NOWHERE PLANS FOR NOBODY

Xylander Johnathon Hyrnek woke up and found a spider on his blanket. He yelled out in fright and fell out of his bed, hitting his head on the corner of his nightstand. The spider climbed up the wall and he threw his roommate's shoe at it but missed barely. The spider disappeared. Xylander searched for it cautiously but did not succeed in finding the ugly eight legged creature. He "tip-toed" to the bathroom and checked it thoroughly before taking a shower. The water was warm and soothing and he soon forgot all about the menace called a spider. Steam filled the bathroom and he finally stepped out of the shower, feeling sleepy. He reached for his fluffy red towel and dried himself off. Xylander's wet hair stuck up in random tufts on his head. He shook his head vigorously and water droplets soon covered most of the elegant bathroom. He grabbed a comb off the counter and combed through the mop he called hair. Then he got a pair of sweatpants on with a sleeveless t-shirt. He went down to the kitchen and had a satisfying breakfast of biscuits and gravy. Xylander's mouth just watered at the sight of it. If there was anything he considered bad in New York, it definitely wasn't their food. He practically choked it down and when he finished eating, he went back upstairs.

Xylander thought he was doing well his senior year. He was keeping up on his grades and he was not involved in much drama as of yet. He had a good social life even though he didn't play any sports or anything. Xy wasn't dwelling on his past like his brother, Chance, probably was. Xy didn't even know if Chance was dead or alive but he assumed that his brother was still fighting the pointless war. He didn't understand the point of the U.S. being in Iraq but he wasn't involved in politics or anything either. Xylander Johnathon Hyrnek didn't care about anything like that; it just caused wars and all that jazz. He figured he'd let Chance be the big guy in the family and Xy would be the wimpy one. It didn't bother him that he wasn't big and strong. He didn't feel the need to play football. He had friends with or without playing sports. There was something he disliked about his senior year here in New York. For one, New York had a high crime rate though that hadn't affected him much. He didn't like the amount of gossip going around but gossip was the heart of every highschool. The one thing he really didn't like was the amount of people that seemed to have sex with everything that walked. Yes, Xy had one-night-stands, but no, he didn't do it every time he hit a party. He wasn't a complete whore. He did flirt with most all people but it was usually all in fun. Majority of the time, he didn't actually mean it and he made sure to let that be known. If he meant it, he usually let that be known too.... There were only a couple that he never let know he meant it deep down...He always had a reason for that.

Xylander was now wandering around Manhatten, New York with nothing in particular to do. He'd already gotten his homework done, surprisingly enough. He hadn't gone to a party or gotten wasted ever since he'd done it with Brooke. He felt loyal and tied to her even though he hadn't asked her to be his girlfriend yet. He definitely planned on it before some other boy got a hold of her first. Xy didn't want to be the stupid one and he figured he'd do that Friday or somethin'. For now, he was wandering around aimlessly picking up trash every now and then. No one would have guessed that Xylander hated litter and hated that everybody treated the world like crap. He tried his best to take care of it and he tried his best to make everybody feel loved but he couldn't do it all. He wished that everybody could just be nice to everybody. He didn't understand people that went out of their way to be mean to people and especially the ones that hunted down people just to be mean. It was ridiculous and Xylander's mind couldn't fathom the idea. Xy was currently wearing gray skinny jeans, a stupid t-shirt, his silver "bracelet", and some goofy sunglasses. He had a small backpack that was carrying candy and other entertaining items like a DS lite. His car was parked over at the park and Xylander was just wandering around the park. He had a slight skip in his step because he was in a good mood for the most part. He was kind of sad that he wasn't hanging out with anyone but other than that, he was good.

Xylander heard a small voice crying and his eyes searched to find the source of the noise. His eyes landed on a young boy who was no more than five, crying his eyeballs out. Xy walked over to him and crouched down so that he was eye level with the kid. The kid sniffed and Xylander smiled warmly, already slipping off his backpack while saying, "Hey kid? You okay, little dude?" The little boy just looked at him rather oddly like he wasn't sure what to think of Xy. Xylander Johnathon Hyrnek personally didn't blame the kid; Xy was awfully intimidating sometimes because of his amount of energy and how upbeat he was. It scared some people, for example, this little kid. The kid finally answered, "I can't find my mommy. Mommy le...ef...ef...left me..." Xylander smiled and pulled out some M&M's, handing them over to the blond haired little kid. "Tell you what, you have these, and I'll help you find your mommy. What's she look like?"

[/b] The kid's face lit up and Xy smiled back as he listened to the kid explain what his mother was wearing. The lady was supposedly wearing a purple shirt and Xy's added height against the kid easily found the lady with a purple shirt. He lifted the kid and pointed out the lady, "Is that your mom?"[/b] The kid smiled brightly after Xy put him down and said, "YEAH! THAT'S MY MOM. Thanks big dude!" Xy walked him over to the worrisome mother and got a random hug in return from the kid and his mother. Xy gave her a quick 'you're welcome'.

Xy got bored of hanging around Manhattan and walked home, expecting to find the boy named Francois, another French kid. They had so many things in common that Xy had gladly taken the kid in. He was a lot smaller than Xylander but that didn't matter because he was younger. They both looked similar and the kid liked to dance, just like Xy. They were so similar. He walked up the two steps that he considered his porch and walked around, finding the bathroom door open and the light on. He opened it slightly and found Francois with a knife, cutting himself. "FRAN! What the hell are you doing? He took the blade away, quickly but carefully so as not to cut Fran anymore. "What happened?"[/color] Xylander's tone was softer and more caring that time now that he'd gotten over the shock.

tagging franny bearrr
words one thousand, two hundred thirty six
lyrics nowhere man by THE BEATLES
notes xy will make him feel all better.
credits this was made by PARTY POISON

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[francois simeon del roque.]

Numbness. That is what Francois felt for life. There was no more pain, no more sadness; there simply was. There was no living, no dying; there was jut existing. Why did the boy exist? He couldn't figure it out for the life of himself, which is probably why he was trying to steal that life away. Did he want to die? Did he want to sit in the ground and rot? It would remove these feelings, it would remove everything he felt about life...but he didn't want to. He knew he didn't want to, so what was he doing? Letting the water run over freshly made scars, letting the tears drip down and mix with the lavender color of the water; what was the point? where was this going? Where was his life going?

Well apparently it was back to France. Back to where it was legal to be abused by your guardian. Back to where nothing was ever good enough for them. He could almost feel the sting on his cheek the day his grandmother slapped him. It was at a Dance competition in France, and Francois had taken home second place. Not Third, not First, but Second. His Grandmother was...furious, to say the least. The French boy's mind protect him though. It blocks out the memory. All he can remember now is the blurring shapes and stinging pain in his cheek, and the rest is all left to black. The black that he retreats back to so often; the black that is his only friend. He imagined that was why he cut himself earlier today. He wanted to escape. He wanted to get away from the ache inside himself, the ache he was never really able to outrun, but he tried.

Francois tried his hardest. He always put as much effort into everything that he could, but it was always never enough. He always tried to tell himself that people hated him. He wanted people to hate him. That way it was easier for him to hate back, that way he could never get attached to anything ever again. He couldn't let his heart wrap around another person ever again. He wouldn't let himself feel so much love for one person...not since then...not since ever.

The memory replayed over and over again in his mind. He was sitting on his couch, reading, when the phone rang. His father picked it up...and then there was minor talking, and then silence. He remembers the silence all too well. The deafening ring of complete emptiness in his ears, an emptiness so bitter and painful, it shakes him to the core to this very day. His father had come into the room. He looked tired- no, exhausted- and Francois didn't know why. He had asked in a small voice what was going on, and then his father sat down. He let his small, five year old legs stretch off the couch and move over to the man. There was more silence, and then suddenly Francois was picked up. His father held him close for minutes, hours; he can never recall how long, because he would never get the same feeling ever again, not since that day. He remembers his fathers hushed voice when he said those words. Such bone chilling words that rattled the boy inside and out, words he can never, ever remove from his brain. Words that are branded there forever.

"Your mother isn't coming home." There is no pain in the world, no terror in the heart that can represent the feeling of those words. When someone you held so precious to you is suddenly ripped away in the blink of an eye; there are no goodbye's.

Francois was shaken from his dream-like state though. There was a hand on his own, and a voice in his ear. It was a familiar one, but he didn't know why it was there, or where it was coming from. His vision blurred with the sting of saltwater, and then there was a noise. Such a bone rattling sob raked through the boy's chest; it was like taking rust nails, digging them into a chalkboard and ripping them down through it. This was the sound that had escaped him. It was a cry of pain, it was a scream for help that he knew no one could give. Then there were words. Slurred words that dripped with such sorrow, each syllable representing each little crack in the boy's heart.

"M-make it g-go a-away-y X-xy...p-please..." It was a pleading sentence that he hoped the boy could understand. Through the sobs and hysterics, Francois had managed to pull his arms away from the sink and around the other boy, crushing himself to Xy and crying onto his chest.

There was simply nothing more to say. Nothing more to do.

Francois had held up the world for too long, and now it was crashing down;

And he was going with it.

[shane]

CLOSED

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NO MUSE, SORRY AKIO

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