A Quiet Kind of Storm (1)

                                    

                                          
It was a quiet kind of stormy that night. Usually, when rain was pouring from the sky, it would patter on the roof and the windows and it would keep us awake. But that night... it was silent, except for the faint drip from the leaky part of the ceiling over the kitchen. It was raining, you could tell by looking out the window- the drops stood out nicely against the dark sky. But it was so, so quiet.
                          
You know that feeling you get the last five minutes of a horror movie? Where we already reached the climax and the jump scares are all over and done with, but there's just that feeling. That's what it felt like in that stuffy room.
                          
Technically, it was his room. But we had spent so much time together in here that the line between mine and his was fuzzy. He had never sat so far away from me in here. It felt... empty. The room. His room. Full of night. Full of fear. 
                          
In the horror movies, at the end, they don't have music playing in the back, like they do in other movies. Even things that should make sounds don't. Like breathing. Like rain.
                          
"I'm scared." Dan whispered. I broke, and scooted toward him, holding him close. We had never hugged like this before. Both cold. Both scared. Both unsure of what was supposed to come next.
                          
"It was just a dream." I said again. He shook. His screams had awoken me, like they had for three nights in a row. He screamed until I came in, and turned on the lights. He would be attempting to rip his sheets away from him as he thrashed, but in his sleepy state, it was impossible, which only scared him more. I would wake him up and hold him until he stopped crying. Then he'd send me away. Tell me not to talk about it, ever. To anyone.
                          
I kept good on that promise. But I was afraid for him. He seemed lost anymore. Like something in him broke. And I knew what did it. 
                          
The death of his little brother.
                          
I had barely known Adrian, because Dan wanted him out of the famous lifestyle we lead. He was so protective of him, and when he had to deal with some of Dan's subscribers harassing him, he got angry. Even with me. But then it all blew over, like it always did, and Dan realised he had been shunning his brother in an effort to keep him out of the lime light. So he began to spend more and more time with him. Until one day, when he stopped. 
                          
I found out a few days later that Adrian had been in an auto-accident, and was killed on impact. Dan had retreated into his room when it happened, not eating or speaking for days. He wouldn't talk to me. He just stayed in there, the door locked, and every once in a while, I heard him sobbing.
                          
I wasn't allowed to say anything. I couldn't do anything. 
                          
But he came out a few days later, his hair mussed, his lips dry, his cheeks hollow and dark circles under his usually sparkling eyes. He looked at me, the way he always did after these bouts of tears. He didn't need to say it.
                          
Don't talk about it.
                          
He cleaned himself up, and then the flat. He vacuumed, swept, wiped down every flat surface we had. It had become a habit for him, something he'd do every time. Our house was immaculate. But still, he scrubbed until his hands were red and raw.
                          
I walked past the toilet one day, and saw him starring in the mirror, practicing his smile. Nothing was right after that.
                          
His jokes were few and far between. He never tweeted. He never made videos. His humour seemed forced. He cried at night when he thought I was asleep.
                          
And then came these dreams.
                          
"I was falling." he said that night, the night of the silent storm. He hadn't told me what the dreams were about. He was finally opening up to me. Maybe this means he was on the road to recovery, that he was accepting my pleas. "And it was dark and I was scared because I didn't know what was at the bottom. I couldn't close my eyes." He leaned into me and started to cry again. I held him tight, wishing I could put him back together by just holding him. But I knew it was much more complicated than that.
                          
"It was just a dream." I didn't know what else to say. I've never had these feelings like Dan has. He's been to darker places than I have. He's been to hell and back.
                          
And not every part came home with him.
                          
"Will you stay with me?" Dan asked. I nodded, though I knew he couldn't see me.
                          
It was raining. But we fell asleep quickly.