The Lost Days – The Backseats by the Window

Interview # 4 : "Don't think they were fucking perfect, because they weren't."

"Most people fucking glorified them after they were gone. Treated them as heroes, as pioneers, breaking the rules at every chance they had, spoke of them with something akin to respect, their names with reverence. In the end, they were human, but few people remember that. Yeah, they did whatever the fuck they wanted to, only the fact is, that they weren't always out to cause a riot. They were really obsessed with music, but it wasn't the only thing in the world, and they did listen to bands younger than ten years. They seemed so cool to people who didn't knew them, or idiotic depending on when they were seen, but if you caught them when there was no one else around, they looked more real, somehow. Gone was the swagger, the cool face and the dramatic gestures. Instead, there were stupid jokes that didn't make any fucking sense to anyone but them, and a sweetness we normally rarely saw.

Hold on a sec, I found it.

According to the data from around that time, 76 percent wouldn't judge someone and didn't someone would be judged on how they looked like, or what subculture they belonged to. 98 percent didn't think that the way someone dressed would influence their opinion. There's some other stuff in here, but just take the folder and read it yourself. As far as we know, those two never took the survey that asked these particular questions. Anyway, those are some pretty numbers, right? Fucking bullshit, but it sure sounds pretty.

You remember, right? How they looked like? Mostly jeans and black clothes, and half of the time heavily customized with safety pins, buttons, ribbons, whatever, right? That was the way they liked it, yeah, that's true. I remember that they hated it when it looked like something produced for the vast masses of grey people, as new as possible and without any tears or signs of use. But we all know what we did. One look and they were written off as punks and goths, thrown in with some group that didn't know what to do with them. They didn't like that. They definitely didn't like that.

What? Their grades?

Here, nothing special. Some are high, English literature, art, music, history, some aren't. What, no, no, they were fucking smart. Too bad that they were fucking lazy too. Not really all that into studying and following random orders to do something useless. They didn't do a fucking thing most of the time.

They got interested in the strangest things, remember? All the signs of a mental breakdown. Binary codes. Meds, drugs, side-effects. Rubik's cubes. The 19th century. Dolls. It was always so fucking random, we couldn't keep up.

Don't think they were fucking perfect, because they weren't. They cursed all the time, they could be just as judgmental and prejudiced as you and me, they were just as human as everyone else. I guess they were just too different for us to see it."

"How can I help you?"

A ticking watch, seconds fly by in silence as the door closes and the ticking of a pair of high heels echoes through the almost empty café.

"I have a question and you will answer it."

A chair being moved as the watch keeps ticking, the only sound coming from the sweeping that continued as the two women stayed silent.


-one tick, two ticks, three ticks-

"Who left first?"

Jaded eyes blinked in confusion.


Pale blue eyes that promised every man's dreams changed into mirrors of ice.

Keys dangling on a silk ribbon, dark eyes looking at the golden sky.

"Hey kiddo."

Silently, the younger man handed an old photograph over to the old man.

A face forever stained with tears of blood softened as he looked at the frozen smile of the girl in the picture.

"I took it for her a day before she left me."

"I knew you. I knew him. You wouldn't leave each other for this long if your life depended on it."

"He left me."

"I kept it with me all this time, I can barely remember why I never burned it."

"So you weren't planning on leaving alone then."

Scarlet eyes looked at him, strands of long black hair moving in the wind.

"We were going to leave together…"

"…We promised each other."

"What happened?"

"What happened?"


"I'm telling you boy, she left. Said she needed time to think and all that jazz. Just a quick goodbye and a promise to write soon, and she was gone. Took the train to neverwhere."

"But that's impossible… she said… she promised!"

"Tch, promises. You knew her, she would lie to the gods if she felt like it. Words meant nothing to her, you hear me? NOTHING!"

"Maybe not to you, but she gave me her fucking WORD! We were going to leave, we were going to leave all of this behind!"

"Well listen to the news, she left YOU behind too! You are NOTHING to her, just another toy to deceive!"

"You never knew her, you don't know a THING about us!"

"I am her MOTHER. Leave us be! She is GONE!"


Footsteps faded away, the rain soon hiding the black silhouette. As she closed the door, another one opened.

"Mother, what happened? I thought I heard voices…"

"Go back to sleep, child. You're supposed to leave early tomorrow with that… guy."

"Stop talking about him as if he's some reject!"

"Just go back to sleep! Nothing happened!"

"Ah, I'm here because I was supposed to meet him two hours ago, do you know if he's still asleep or something?"

"Silly little girl, he left last night."

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible, we were supposed to leave together."

"Look, I don't know what happened, he left last evening and came back a few hours later, grabbed his bags and ran out the door again. We found the note this morning, it seems he decided to leave without you."

"But why? He said…"

"Wake up girl, face reality. Why would someone like him make a promise that would bind him to someone like you, huh? He's too good for you, so get out of here already. We've got more to do than listening to the whining of a some middle class child like you."

The door was closed right in front of her. From a window a floor above her, black eyes followed her leaving figure, wondering what had happened between her and his brother. He'd heard the conversation, something was off about the whole thing. Him leaving so suddenly, the fact that she didn't know anything about it, and the note. He'd call his girlfriend later, if he could avoid her older sister and the overprotective cousin who usually prevented them being alone together.

She never found out, not until four years would've passed and a pair of white eyes found her in the masses. The younger girl looked back at the copy of an old photograph in her hands, and the young woman that was seemingly sleeping a few meters away from her. It took her and her fiancé almost a year to track them down, and another two months to get to them. While he was busy finding his older brother, who was currently somewhere in Chicago, she was all the way in Europe after someone finally told her that she was staying somewhere in Paris. She took a few steps, standing front of the sunlight, making the rose haired woman open her eyes and take of her sunglasses.

"Oi, whatcha think ya doin' huh?"

She shook her head, muttering silent curses at her ancestors.

"We got some talkin' to do, you an' me."

"Waddabout, eh? "


And she showed her the copy and the note.

Jade eyes widened.

He looked at the younger man sitting in his hotel room. Night met night as nobody spoke.

"It's time to go back, brother."

"There is no going back, little one."

"I just got a phone call. She got the note."


"It took us almost three years to find the truth. After that, another year before we found you two."

The note he wrote wasn't a real note, it were simply words from a song that was still in his head, with instructions beneath it that if she ever asked for him, to give it to her.

The younger one leaned back.

"So I think it's time to go back, if just to see if there's something there to go back to."

Silently, he nodded.

"Oh, and I'm getting married in about half a year, don't tell anyone, you're my best man. That means you're kinda obligated to be there."

With those words he left.

"Ah… Wait, what?!"

"Well I came by your house the other day
Your mother said you went away
She said there was nothing that I could have done
There was nothing nobody could say
Me and you we've known each other ever since we were sixteen
I wished I would have known
I wished I could have called you
Just to say goodbye Bobby Jean

Now you hung with me when all the others turned away, turned up their nose
We liked the same music, we liked the same bands, we liked the same clothes
We told each other that we were the wildest
The wildest things we'd ever seen
Now I wished you would have told me
I wished I could have talked to you
Just to say goodbye Bobby Jean

Now we went walking in the rain talking about the pain that from the world we hid
Now there ain't nobody, nowhere nohow gonna ever understand me the way you did
Maybe you'll be out there on that road somewhere, in some bus or train traveling along, in some motel room there'll be a radio playing and you'll hear me sing this song
Well, if you do, you'll know I'm thinking of you and all the miles in between and
I'm just calling one last time
Not to change your mind, but just to say I miss you baby, good luck, goodbye Bobby Jean..."

Thank you for all your kindness, I treasure every word, every review. I will never forget you guys.

Not much to say this time, Naruto's interview is flashing by as a reminder to the characters and myself that they're not perfect. It's easy to take that way and make them everything you wanted to be, give them everything you never had, and continue like that as a perfect bubbly dream. The truth is, they're human. They have their bad sides, their crappy moments and weird quirks. They can be stupid too.

It dates back to a comment another classmate of mine made a while ago, words that I've heard in many variations. Some comment about admiring the way I did my own thing and dressed and talked the way I wanted to, how brave she thought it was. Another comment on how easy I did stuff.

We make heroes so easily, hiding their humanity and forgetting the bad sides. We put shine a spotlight on 'em and banish their real life to the shadows, hoping no one will see.

Ah, I'm getting all philosophical again.

The song's called Bobby Jean, from Bruce Springsteen.

Soundtrack for this chapter is 'Sara' (Bob Dylan), 'Bobby Jean' (Bruce Springsteen) and 'Everything is broken' (Bob Dylan)

Look, it's some kind of hidden past that we didn't know about... Now what will we do?