The Suburbs

nine

We lived in the gaps between the stories.

[Margaret Atwood]

• • •

Arlo's room could have belonged to any nameless blur in the universe. It was colourless, stripped away of any flicker of identity. The walls were white, as were the sheets, and the only things pinned to the walls were pencil sketches. Kody never knew Arlo was so talented, but apparently he was an artist, a fucking amazing artist at that.

"Wow." Kody murmured. "These are..."

"Dark?" Arlo finished for him, "I know. My Mum says I should take them down."

Kody shook his head defiantly, eyes still glued to the pictures, "They're really good, Arlo." He assured him, "But yeah, I guess they are kinda dark, huh?" He noticed. There was blood dripping from eyeballs, shackled wrists, animals behind bars, butterflies sitting atop piles of razor blades, flowers sprouting from open wounds.

"I can't seem to draw anything else - I've tried." He said sadly.

"So the last thing you see before you fall asleep is this?" Kody rose his brows, gesturing towards a sketch of a dead flower with blood dripping from the petals.

"And the first thing I see when I wake up, yeah." He confessed bashfully.

Kody quickly found a solution, walking over to Arlo's desk - which was strangely cluttered compared to the rest of his room - and picking up a pen. "You got any post it notes?"

"Uh, yeah, here." Arlo handed him a stack of bright yellow sticky notes, "Why?"

Kody didn't answer him right away. He simply drew a smiley face on the small paper square and stuck it onto the wall, besides all the depressing depictions of pain and suffering. "I'm sorry that it doesn't go with your aesthetic." He joked, "But hey, if you do decide to keep it up after I leave, maybe you could look at that every morning instead."

Look at it and think of me.

Arlo examined the sticky note, the pop of colour in his plain room, the hint of Kody. It was goofy and stupid; just two dots for eyes and a big cheesy smile - but he felt warm when he looked at it, and that definitely wasn't a bad thing. "Thanks, Kody." He laughed lightly.

Their clothes were still damp and the wet fabric was becoming uncomfortable, so Arlo offered Kody some of his clothes, and they faced away from each other as they changed. Somewhere in the deep alcoves of their minds, both boys wanted to turn around and catch a peek, but neither of them did. They respected each other too much.

Arlo's jumper was warm and soft against Kody's skin. It smelt like him too.

"Does it fit okay?"

"Yeah." Kody grinned, "It helps that you wear clothes that are probably three sizes too big for you."

Arlo shrugged, collapsing onto his bed and pulling his legs to his chest, "I guess I just like baggy clothes." He said simply.

Kody sat beside him, "Where are your parents?"

"They're at work. They'll be home soon."

"What do they do?" He inquired. He wanted to know everything that there was to know about Arlo Middleton. From his parents to his dog to the smell of the cotton jumper he was borrowing.

"They both work for a charity supporting people with disabilities." He explained briefly. "It can be pretty intense."

"Your parents sound like good people."