Kneeling down quickly I empty the contents of my stomach into the bowl before wiping my mouth of carefully with the back of my hand. Resting my chin to the seat I let my eyes slip closed, fighting down the urge to vomit again. I let out a shaky breath and grit my teeth together, sitting up slowly so I don’t give myself a head rush, only to have to lean against the sink counter from dizziness.
Gripping tightly onto the porcelain tiles I open the medicine cabinet and pick up my toothbrush, making sure to leave the little door open so I don’t have to look at my reflection. I don’t need to see myself to know what a sick incest bastard I am.
Reaching for the toothpaste my fingers brush over a bottle of aftershave, his aftershave. I bite my lip and hold back the tears that are threatening to flow, picking up the toothpaste and squirting a good amount onto the bristles.
Pea-size my ass.
You tell me, what kind of cleanliness can be achieved with that tiny amount of toothpaste? None. Especially after throwing up.
As I brush my teeth I let my mind wander, thinking about all the events that led up to this point in my life. When did I become so fucking screwed up? I mean who gets this emotional and depressed over someone they’ve never even had?
I do, that’s who. And it’s insane because I know how sick it is, how wrong it is, and I know he’ll never feel the same way about me.
Maybe one of the reasons it’s tearing me apart is that we’re so close. There’s nothing I don’t know about him and there’s nothing about me he doesn’t know. (Minus one small detail. I’m in love with him. But that’s a tiny, little, insignificant speck of a detail. Right? That's what I thought.)
If it had been anyone else there would still be that element of mystery. Not knowing what they’re thinking just by looking into their eyes, not knowing how they feel without even having to look at them, not knowing how they’d react to sudden confessions of pure, undying love.
Not knowing that you’d lose them forever if you told them the one thing they don’t know about you.
I turn the tap on and spit before sticking my head under the faucet and rinsing my mouth out, followed shortly by my toothbrush as I wipe my mouth off with a nearby towel.
After replacing my toothbrush and the toothpaste I close the cabinet door, carefully looking anywhere but in the mirror. I don’t bother lying to myself about why this time. (Well, I didn’t lie before, I just didn’t tell the whole truth which is almost as bad.)
I don’t want to see Benji.
As much as he’s we've changed over the past five years we’re still twins and I can still see him in myself.
We have the same eyes, the same nose, the same ears only mine stick out more; we even have the same facial expressions. Pretty much the same everything except when it comes to what really matters.
I’ve always been labeled the “good” twin, the “innocent” one, when in reality; Benji fits that description better than I do.
Contrary to everyone’s beliefs, and even to what he tells people, he was a good student. He got a scholar ship, but gave up going to college for my crazy rock star dream and me. Which, despite what everyone said, had somehow come true. He said he couldn’t leave me behind, didn't want me to be stuck in Waldorf while he was away. I couldn't go with him since I never was very smart and couldn’t get into a four-year college if I paid them.
He gave up drinking when we were twenty; he’s never touched any form of illegal drug, never smoked up with us, never gotten high.
Hell he’s still a virgin.
Most people assume that I would be the one to wait until I got married to have sex, not Benji, but when you decide your gay it kinda puts a stop to that whole commitment, and fast. Benji’s always said that he wants to wait until he’s found his “other half” or his “soul mate” as he’d say. He’s a strong believer in fate, says everything happens for a reason and that God wouldn’t close one door without opening another.
Bullshit in my opinion but I never could help but get sucked into his words. He could make anything and anyone sound beautiful and unique, even fuck-ups like me.
“Snap out of it Madden.”
Great. Now I’m talking to myself. I shake my head slightly and turn off the light, leaving the tiny bathroom and climbing back into my bunk, ignoring the worried eyes staring out at me from the bunk above mine.
“Good night Joely, love you.”
“Yeah, me too.”
I fall asleep to the sound of his breathing, the rain pounding on the roof of the bus, and the feel of tears drying on my cheeks.