TRUE COLOURS — The Weeknd

Two weeks ago was the last time I had seen Benny Rodriguez.

I spent the present portion of my summer divulging in books, watching scary movies, and listening to music. Boredom and loneliness consumed me each moment I spent away from everything, my only friend being my cigarettes.

To make matters worst, my mother could care less about me. She hadn't noticed my sudden displeasure at going out and didn't bother to check up on me. I only saw her when she came home to sleep and would go back to the hospital.

I was currently sprawled upon my bed; my torso outstretched in a weird angle, my head balanced lopsided upside down to gaze at the window, and rock music pouring into the atmosphere.

The faint buzzes of voices silently trailed into the room as background noise, my television displaying some creepy movie that I paid no interest to.

I wonder how Benny reacted when I begun ignoring him slowly—he stopped throwing rocks at my window around the end of the first week.

Had he forgotten me?

His failed attempts at trying to hang out with me still beamed a small hope inside me, but once the raven haired boy stopped trying I knew it was for the better.

My mind raced in memories as I rocked my hips to the music playing. The sound of guitar always eased my labyrinth of a mind.

The song halted to a stop when the vibration of my cell phone alerted me of a phone call. I paused the music, not bothering to look at the caller I.D.

"Elena!" the familiar voice exclaimed, "Where've you been?"

I sighed at Brandon's question as I answered him monotonously. "I uh—I've been busy."

"Busy my ass kid, we've been hanging around lover boy for the past two weeks and he's been so upset over your sudden disappearance," he snickered.

"Wait, you've been with Benny the entire time?"

"Yeah, he comes to our parties and has sorta became a permanent member to our group," Brandon clearified, "You could be too if you actually bother showing up."

I was baffled; the words too hard to believe as I began processing the newfound information.

"Lina," Brandon's voice tore me from my thoughts at the situation, "Come to a small party at mine tonight."

I hesitated. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, Brandon."

"Don't worry, it'll be fun," he said, "You'll be reunited with lover boy and you'll get some free booze."

"I'll let you know."

"Okay Lina, see you later." His voice sighed on the other line, disconnecting the call for me to gather my thoughts.

I was utterly confused at why Benny would continue hanging out with the older group of kids when I left for him to start getting back to the sandlot. This entire time I thought he was only hanging around them for me, but I seemed to be put into a different perspective.

I felt a sense of stupidity as I reviewed my reasoning for keeping myself locked up; I wasn't ruining Benny, I had already led him to ruin himself.

I couldn't allow him to do god knows what with those people when he was just an innocent kid that had fun playing baseball with his friends, spending time with his family, being happy.

I gathered my strength and swapped my pyjamas for a pair of denim jeans, a Rolling Stones t-shirt, and my red flannel. Running down stairs, I retrieved my PF flyers and called Brandon to pick me up to attend this party.

I wasn't going on my own behalf, though it was much better than wallowing away in my lonely room. I was going for Benny.

Although to my dismay, I stupidly thought it was for saving him.

✱✱✱

Brandon managed to pick me up abruptly, filling me in on the events of what I had missed in the last two previous weeks.

Apparently, Benny had started smoking cigarettes, marijuana, and drinking whenever he had the chance.

As I acquired this information, I felt my stomach churn—a feeling of sickness washing over me. I didn't allow the painful feeling engulf me as I painted a facade upon my discomforted features.

Brandon and I walked in, greeted by the stench of marijuana and alcohol and the drunken bodies swaying around us. I was almost lost in the sea of people, until I spotted Brandon striding to the door to the basement.

I met a familiar pair of emerald irises when I scanned the atmosphere of the room; Hailey smoking a cigarette on the right side of the leather couch, Adam, Peter, Charli, Zara, and Adrianna exchanging a spliff on the other side, and Benny in the middle—intoxicated by god knows what.

I gasped as I jogged to where he lazily swung his head around.

"Hey, Elena you're back!" Hailey enthusiastically exclaimed, "Benny has been dying without you."

Adam snickered, contributing to her. "Yeah, he seemed like a lost puppy, but he's gotten used to it now."

I shot Adam a glare as I evaluated Benny's state. He was definitely under the influence of marijuana as I studied his bloodshot orbs.

"Elena?" A throaty sound escaped from Benny's lips, "Wha—what are you going here?"

"I came to see how you were, I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to do this."

"Fuck off then." He angrily yanked himself away from me.

"Benny, I stopped hanging out with you so things could go back to the way they were," I admitted, "I didn't think you'd end up joining this group and going around to smoke and drink."

"You're not my mom to tell me how the fuck to live my life," his abrasive voice puncturing my lungs.

"Benny, I care about you enough to not let anything happen to you."

"You don't care about shit, the same way everyone else doesn't," he murmured, his head swaying back and fourth. "I wanted a change, I don't want to be the fucking Jet at the sandlot or to just be the perfect kid on the block, I wanted more."

I bit my lips to conceive the tears that stood at bay. "Why would you want different when you've got things people dream of, Benny."

"Because, I'm fucking boring Elena, girls like you don't go for guys like me," he claimed.

"Why should that matter to you, you shouldn't go changing your life to get girls."

"Fuck," he sighed, "this isn't just fucking about that, I—I just can't explain it because you wouldn't understand."

"I of all people could understand, Benny," I cried, "you're just being selfish, you don't realize how much you should appreciate instead of getting into this shi—"

"Go away," he stood up abruptly. "Get the fuck away from me, Elena."

He exited the party, rummaging upstairs through the seas of people in his intoxicated state. I felt my auburn irises prick with tears.

Without hesitation, I followed the drunk boy where ever it was he was travelling to because I couldn't just allow him out in the cruel world in this state; I knew how shitty it felt.

So, I trailed behind a screaming and swaying Benny, being greeted with darkness of the evening and the vibrantly blaring stars.

Benny was screaming all over the neighbourhood about countless things I couldn't decipher, some of which were about his life.

I ran up to him and didn't bother to muster a word, instead I allowed him to rant to the moon.

"Fuck," he continued to chant, "I fucking hate this, I hate this."

"You hate what Benny?" I asked in a hushed tone.

"I hate me, I know that everyone sees me as this happy fucking kid and that I have all this shit ahead of me," his brittle voice exhaled, "you know, I know why you never tell me shit."

I raised my eyebrows in confusion. "What are you talking about, Benny?"

"You don't like telling me shit because I'm too perfect to relate to your problems," he elaborated, "You know for someone fucking perfect, I couldn't even get my dad to stay with us."

"What?"

"Yeah, my dad has another family," he confessed, "he's leaving us next month to move with this women that has a kid with him."

I felt my heart dent with every word that pulsed from his pouted lips—the urge to just hug him and hide him from the pain that I experienced penetrating my movements.

I stopped him in the middle of the sidewalk we once strode upon and hugged his swaying body; his face contouring in agony.

"I'm fucking stupid," his hoarse voice sighed in my raven locks, "Elena, I'm so stupid."

"Benny, it isn't your fault," I said, pulling away from him to skim his distraught features with my index finger delicately. "Shit happens."

Through his broken expression, he was able to muster a small smile. "Of course you'd say something like that."

"What can I say, the world doesn't like to be kind to people," I laughed, causing a different expression to falter his features.

"I forgot how much your smile makes me feel better," he smiled weakly, "maybe you'll be my remedy instead of baseball."

My gaze dropped to the floor once we continued walking through the darkness—his words chiming through my mind like church bells as the night sky continued to engulf us.