But We ARE Celebrities (Waycest fanfic)

Chp.2

At that moment in time, I was a cartoonist, drawing for corporations, such as Cartoon Network. My "place of work" happened to be in one of the Twin Towers. For some reason, I felt like not working, which was somewhat normal. So I called in "sick," and went to Starbucks. While sitting outside in plain view of my workplace, I began to draw. Then, looking up for inspiration, I saw it. What seemed to be a dream, yet more real than thought possible.

I stood there and watched the whole thing. I began crying, and with each tear, a thought came to mind, Yet, strangely, it was a repeating thought. The only thought I could think of was of him. Not anyone else. Not my co-workers, not my friends, not my other family, not even my own life. Only him.

I got on the ferry to go home. I was living in Hobboken, NJ, at the time. Funny almost, a 24-year-old who went to "art school," worked for CN, lived with his parents, and had a one-sided incestuous relationship with his little brother. The apartment we all lived in was quiet. Yet, if you listened closely, you could hear the cries for lost ones; the loss of all hope. One of the loudest cries happened to be coming from our room.

He was in there, sitting on my bed, drowning his sorrows in my blankets, clinging to my dirty clothes. My baby brother. My Mikey. On his bed sat our mother, Donna, a name that described her perfectly, woman. They hadn't heard me come in, and who could blame them. Our father was upstairs, taking a bath, I believe. He was never a man of emotion. I was about to go upstairs, to tell them the "good news," when I overheard a part of their conversation.

"I loved him...." Mikey sat on my bed in shock, our Mother trying to comfort him.

"We all did, hun. We all did."

A sudden burst of emotion came to him at once. "No, Mom, I loved him."

A look of horror washed over her face, as if she was desperate for any other meaning. Something correct in the eyes of God. "I-I'm not sure what you me--"

It was now anger that washed over him as he immediately cut her off, screaming "Sexually! Okay!? I loved him sexual--"

It was now my turn to step in. Even though I wanted to rejoice in happiness, I still had to wave off our mother. "Mikey, stop." It was all I needed to say to get their attention.

I loved the expression his face gave, his eyes mainly. Usually a hazel color with tints of a vibrant green that was unlike any other mixed with an amber that beat out the sun, they had now been stained the brown of pure melancholy, with big red bags of puffiness under his eyes, stating infinite sadness. I can not describe to you the beauty his face produced when he saw me, but his eyes. They were the best part. The only description I am able to give can never, ever, cop up to the perfection of it. All I am able to say is that his eyes "lit up;" the unremarkable green and able tints returned to his eyes, as if he had seen "the light" that so many speak of. But this was not a religious awakening, it was only me. "Gee, you're alive!?" He yelled, as if it was a question.

Our Mother just sat there, wide eyed. Without a work, she got up, looked at us, and walked away. We didn't see her until the next afternoon.

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Hi! I actually updated! Isn't it great? No? Oh, sorry....

Anyways, I plan to update this one a lot more, because this is one of the few I' starting to like (and it's getting popular).

Thanks for reading, I guess....

Love you all,

<3 Charr