Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me?

The blonde boy was insane. Well, that's what the doctors said when they thought he wasn't listening. But he was. He was always listening.

When they talked about all the pain he'd been through, he was listening. When they talked about what steps to take with his treatment, he was listening.

He was always listening.

Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me? Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?

The brown-eyed boy depended on the escape the alcohol gave him. He couldn't afford it so he stole it. He didn't care who it belonged to.

He'd steal it from the pub he'd slept outside that day. He'd steal it from some sleeping drunkard on a park bench, only to run when they woke up and caught him.

He was always running.

Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me? Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?

The same pills everyday. Two blue ones. These were for anxiety. One red one. That was to help the blonde sleep. But they never worked.

He was always in fear. He was always awake.

The other boy felt the stares as the smoke surrounded him. He didn't care what they thought. He didn't care that he was a bad influence on any passing children.

It was so much more than an addiction.  It was something he needed.

Do the people whisper about you on the train like me?

His psychiatrist said everything was confidential. He knew it wasn't. He knew she went home and told her family about her patients. He knew how they judged and laughed.

He knew what people thought of him. He knew they thought he was mad. They thought he didn't know much. But he did.

He knew everything.

Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me?

Even when he was asleep, the brown-eyed boy felt people staring at him. The kid on the pavement who once was full of potential.

They'd said he could have been anything. He had the brains, the looks, the talent. But he was a waste.

Nothing but a waste.

And all the people say, you can't wake up, this is not a dream. You're part of a machine, you are not a human being.

The same routine. Wake up. Take medication. Appointment with psychiatrist. Medical check up. Get food forced down his throat. Try to sleep.

But he couldn't sleep no matter how tired he was.

The other boy's routine was so different. He didn't have people constantly checking on him. He didn't know what to expect every time he woke up.

He'd learnt that it was best not to care.

With your face all made up, living on a screen.

That's all the blonde boy felt he was. Something for people to watch. To monitor for their own entertainment. People were intrigued by things that were different. Like him.

He'd try to act as what they classed as normal. He didn't want to be someone's entertainment. It gave him a sick sense of satisfaction when they didn't get the "insane" boy they wanted.

He wanted them to feel bad.

Low on self-esteem, so you run on gasoline.

The boy with the brown eyes felt nothing. He didn't open up. He never cried. Showing emotion was a sign of weakness. Weakness would get him killed.

He felt some things. Like the alcohol burning down his throat. Like the high the drugs gave him. The cold air that blasted through his body at night.

He never cried.

I think there's a flaw my code, these voices won't leave me alone.

The voices in the blonde boy's head were at their loudest at night. They were what kept him awake. They'd tell him things. Things that were better off kept a secret.

But the boy didn't have secrets. He wasn't allowed them.

Sometimes the other boy would see things. Visions created by his mind when he had no control over it. When he was drunk. When he was high.

These visions were his friends. His only friends.

----------------------------------------------
So this is the prologue to my new fanfic...

I hoped you guys liked it, and the next chapter will be up in the next few days!

Love you all,
LJ xx

P.S. I know I missed out a lyric but I promise it was intentional!