The chemicals are restless in my head...

So, I just thought I'd share this interesting developement of my day with you all.  It was very exciting. =]

I live in a small town where there used to be a bowling alley.  Unfortunately, they turned it into apartments, a sub shop, and a movie rental.  But, since it used to be there, there also is a bowling pin factory which, incidentally, is located in my back yard, about 150 to 200 yards from my house.

Or, I should be more accurate and say, there USED TO BE a bowling pin factory and it WAS 150-200 yards from my house.

Because, see, it burned down today.  To the ground.  Still full of chemicals and everything.  Let's just say, it smelled awful.  And had the wind been blowing in the opposite direction, our house may also still not be standing.  But let's not dwell on that shall we?  It's irrelevant.

Flames were huge, or so I was told, due to the chemicals.  I was stuck at a hair appointment with dye in my hair, so I missed the BIG burning, but it was still smoking when I arrived home.  Luckily, sister was home and she took some pictures for me.  =]

I must say, I will miss the old bowling pin factory.  It was my landmark when venturing down to the caves.  And it was just an all-around pretty sweet backyard attraction.

But alas, it is no more.

And yeah, just thought I'd share that with ya'll.  My exciting event of the day.  =D
<33Retro

I can't decide which it is.  It is what it is.
A product of my...migraine perhaps.
Or maybe something else, I don't know.
It's kind of short, but I like it like that.
You may know who it's about, you may not.
Enjoy?  I'd love to know what you think.  <33

You used to be the boy next door.
We played together on the living room floor,
Climbed the branches of the apple tree,
And jumped together into piles of leaves.

Then you made your own choices,
Followed the wrong voices,
And every high
Became another goodbye.

You spread your wings, said you wanted to fly.
So you fucked yourself up, you touched the sky.
Your distorted view of reality
Cost you a life and your sanity.

Cause you made your own choices,
Followed the wrong voices,
And every high
Became another goodbye.

A boy like you could’ve had the world.
A golden palace, red carpets unfurled.
But every high
Was another goodbye.
Goodbye.

Okay, Part 5 of my second story has been posted on Blogspot.  It's a bit shorter.

link

Enjoy?  <33

I feel ridiculous.
Just, getting that out there.

A ringing blackberry woke me up. I slowly sat up, lifting my head from its comfortable perch on Jared’s chest. I looked down at him, watching as he blinked himself awake.

"Phone," I said, unable to form full sentences yet.

Looking slightly more alert, he looked quickly around the room, searching for his pants. He rolled over and extended an arm, pulling the garment closer and fishing his phone out of the pocket. Collapsing onto his back again, he answered.

"Bro, what is it?"

His eyes traveled the length of my body as he listened to Shannon on the other end. Grinning, he reached out and pulled me back down against him. I smiled contentedly and listened to his half of the conversation.

"We got a little distracted, sorry...Calm the fuck down bro...We’ll get there, we’ll get there...Okay right now...An hour."

He groaned as he hung up, dropping the phone back onto his jeans.

"Impatient?" I asked.

"Just a little," he answered sarcastically.
"Well it’s his own fault for staying at a hotel......Not that I’m complaining," I said, inching my way up his chest until our heads were level.

He grinned again. "Me either." Before I could respond, he crashed his mouth against mine, effectively pushing me over onto my back. I started laughing, so he pulled his lips away and moved them to my neck, his body hovering above me and his hands tightly holding my upper arms.

"I thought we had to go," I said breathlessly. My body didn’t want to, but I had heard what he said on the phone. An hour.

"We have an hour," he growled against my skin.

I laughed as his words mimicked what I had been thinking. "But...I have to shower," I said, squirming in his grasp.

"No you don’t," he protested.

"Yes I do!" I effectively twisted out of his tight grip and rolled out from beneath him, quickly darting to my bedroom door before he could catch me. Looking back, he was laying rejected on the floor, watching me, a look of mock hurt plastered all over his face. "You’re welcome to join me," I said slowly. He arched an eyebrow at my words. I bit the corner of my lip and gave a small nod before slipping around the door and into the bathroom, waiting for him to follow.

I reached around the shower door and turned on the water before I heard the door open and close behind me.  Jared’s hands landed on my hips and guided me forward into the stream of hot water.  Immediately steam began rising as the liquid flowed over our bodies.  I pulled his head down to mine and opened my mouth to him.  He ran his tongue along my lips before entering.  My hands moved automatically down his back as my eyes closed.

“Down boy,” I said in response to his growing excitement, pulling away with enough time to get the words out before his lips caught mine again.

Everything after that was a blur.  I lost touch with reality and my sense of time as I so often did in situations like this.  I remembered hands traveling my body, lips against skin, skin against skin.  I remembered being pinned against the shower wall, powerless as his touch intensified.  And I remembered finding it difficult to breathe.

- - -

An hour later, and half an hour late to get Shannon, Jared and I were both clean and dressed, ready to go.  That’s when reality settled. I realized where I was heading, once again, and I immediately flashed back to the club bathroom and the syringes scattered across the floor, the taunting glint in the man’s eye as he offered me my demise.

I shivered, trying to shake it off, and picked up the pace, following Jared towards the door.

"Wait! We don’t have a car," I realized.

"Yes we do," he said without turning around.

"Huh?"

But he wouldn’t answer my question. Instead, he led me down the stairs and to the street where a Pontiac G6 convertible sat at the curb. It was November and cold, so the top would have to remain up, but I loved any convertible.

"Rented it at the airport," he said, finally responding to my bewildered looks. I grinned and got into the passenger’s seat.

"So what’s up with Shannon and Eva?" I asked him once we had started driving.

He blinked, slowing down for a car turning out in front of us before he answered. "I’m not really sure, I haven’t talked to him about it yet." I was more worried about you, he was thinking. "Remember the last time we were here and played a show? You and I came back to your apartment, and everyone else stayed at Eva’s."

"How could I forget?"

"Well, you may also remember that Shannon was the last on the bus at Eva’s the next morning when we left. He took his time with his goodbyes. Or goodbye, more accurately. To Eva," he said looking over at me quickly before focusing on the road again. "I was distracted, but I know they shared a long hug, maybe even a kiss. But I couldn’t see perfectly through the bus window."

"You’re kidding..." I said, surprised.

"Nope. I don’t know if anything happened that night, I never seriously asked him. We joked, like we always do, but I didn’t get a straight answer, so I gave up. If and when he wants to tell me, he will."

"Okay..." I said trailing off.

"What?" he asked, recognizing me in thought.

"Huh?...Oh, I was just, I dunno. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me," I answered, referring to Eva.

"Well, maybe she didn’t know what to think of it. If it would turn into anything or not. After all, they haven’t seen each other since then," he said logically. "They may have called each other, but it’s still not the same. If Shan’s anything like me, it’s not going to feel real to him until...something happens. They share a bed night after night, or share more than just long-distance conversations."

"Did you..."

"I knew you were real," he reassured me softly.

I smiled and settled back into the seat, deciding to withhold any further questions until I saw what happened between them this afternoon.

When we pulled up in front of the hotel, I crawled into the backseat making it easier for Shannon to get in. He walked out of the lobby, a set of drumsticks in hand, and slid into the car.

"You’re fucking late," he growled.

"Sorry," Jared said casually.

"No you’re not," Shannon muttered.

I smiled to myself in the backseat, barely able to contain laughter. We really weren’t sorry. I caught Jared’s eye in the rearview mirror and raised an eyebrow questioningly at him. He shrugged in response, not sure what his brother’s problem was. So I sat back to watch and wonder as Shannon tapped his drumsticks incessantly against the dashboard. Nervous, I assumed.

When we started up the asphalt driveway, I saw both brothers’ bodies tense as we drew closer to the building. This wasn’t good. I was allowed to be on-edge, and so was Shannon, but not Jared. I needed him to be strong.

I crawled out of the car behind him and laced my fingers tightly through his.

"You okay so far?" he asked, concern dripping from his voice. Looking into his eyes, I realized he wasn’t tense. He was worried about me. I nodded quickly and took a deep breath, shoving my other hand into the pocket of my sweatshirt. Releasing my hand, he pulled the tie on his trench coat tighter and grabbed it again, knowing I needed contact.

We started walking towards the door, Shannon following close behind. Upon arrival, we avoided a search by not bringing anything with us, and then were led to Eva’s room. The nurse told us she had been there all morning, waiting for us. Suddenly I felt bad about being half an hour late. She didn’t know when we were planning on coming, but we could have at least been here earlier.

I poked my head around the doorframe, making sure there was a smile on my face, while Jared and Shannon remained out of sight.

"Pssst," I whispered. Her head whipped up and she grinned immediately. She closed the notebook lying open before her on the bed and jumped up to hug me. I walked fully into the room and accepted the welcome, returning it warmly. I stepped aside, trying to ignore the enormous quantity of butterflies in my stomach as she greeted Jared as well. And then Shannon didn’t appear.
"Isn’t..." she started, looking bewildered at me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what Shannon was doing.

But he finally stepped into the room.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Eva turned back around slowly to face him, a smile growing on her lips. "Hey," she replied. "Glad you came."

"Yeah, me too," he said slowly. The source of his quietness dawned on me. Shannon? Shy? Never. Or...could it be? Yes, yes it could. They were both acting unnaturally.

As if on a string, they walked towards each other and embraced in a long hug. I moved back to Jared’s side, twisting my arm around his and finding his fingers again. He looked down at me and smiled before nudging his head in their direction. I smiled back and nodded as the reality of what was before us sunk in. My best friend, his brother.

When they finally pulled away, I saw Eva brush a tiny tear from the corner of her eye before looking back up at Shannon. They turned towards us, both blushing, and Shannon gave Jared a look that said, Not a fucking word. We’ll talk later.

I don’t know if it was having Jared there, or knowing Eva and Shannon had something going on, or both, but as she gave us a tour, my second tour, I was more comfortable. I wasn’t as confused, less scared. And I actually looked around.

It wasn’t as dismal as I thought it would have been. Everything wasn’t obscured, as per the stereotypical rehab center that seems to be featured in the movies. There was paint on the walls, color, and flowers here and there. The rooms were more like hotel rooms than hospital beds, and the cafeteria wasn’t as grey as it had seemed the evening before.

We went into a room resembling a living room and sprawled comfortably across the couches. As Eva and Shannon began to talk, I took inventory.

Butterflies in stomach? Gone

Flashes of the club bathroom? Absent.

Fear? Missing.

Things were looking good. I had found my strength in the man next to me.

An hour later, Jared and I left Shannon and Eva, still talking on the couches, and took a walk outside, staying inside the fence and ignoring the mildly biting cold air. My stomach started growling after having skipped two meals of the day. Jared poked me, teasing, then carried me on his back for a while in mock concern. I loved it. It didn’t matter that we were at a rehab center where my best friend was staying for the time being. Jared and I were ourselves again, at least for now, and back to acting like the 5 year olds we were now and then.

I was startled out of my thoughts when I was abruptly dropped to the ground. My jaw dropped, surprised. I stared indignantly up at him while he tried to stop laughing. In one sweeping motion, I brought my foot up and kicked out his knee. He dramatically fell beside me.

"Asshat," I grumbled and picked myself up off the ground. The pain that had been steadily growing in my hip since the previous afternoon was now thrown into another dimension. I grimaced and stuck out a hand, waving it in front of Jared’s face until he took it and stood up.

"Asshat?" he asked. The light in his eyes danced, growing brighter with each passing second.

"Asshat," I confirmed before digging in my pocket for the Demerol bottle.

As he realized what I was doing and I popped two of them into my mouth, he looked alarmed. "Oh shit, did I..."

"No, you didn’t," I said quickly. "It’s been bad, I just haven’t taken anything for the past...24 hours at least. I was...distracted." The only time I hadn’t felt anything was during our time on the living room and in the shower. But other that that, I had been ignoring it.

"Okay," he said, our immature, playful mood quickly shifting to that of love and concern. The evening light was fading, close to 5:00, so he guided me back into the center. We found Eva and Shannon in a game room, hovering over an air hockey table and shouting at each other, deeply immersed in a game.

"Where the hell you been?" Shannon asked smiling as we entered the room.

"Outside," I answered absent-mindedly. I was watching Eva. Her face was flushed and she was watching Shannon. She was truly smitten. She glanced over at me and blushed even further before her face fell, realizing we were here because it was time to go. Visiting hours were ending.

She walked to meet me, resignation in her posture. The fun was over for today. I hugged her tightly, then stepped back. We walked down the hall to the door. I hugged her again and told her we’d come back on Sunday before flying home Monday morning. Jared and I walked out to the car and got in, watching and waiting as Shannon said his own goodbye. Another long hug and a kiss on the cheek. He turned around and waved halfway to the car, then pulled his drumsticks out of his back pocket before sliding into the car. He was giddy, you could tell. I leaned over the front seat, the smile on my face matching Jared’s grin.

"What?" he asked, denying our unspoken questions.

"Nothing bro," Jared said before lightly punching his arm. He laughed and started the car. "We’re getting food," he said, thumbing in my direction briefly over the seat. "You coming?" he asked Shannon.

"Fuck yes, I’m in. I’m starving," came the reply. So I directed Jared through the city streets, trying to find a restaurant where we could remain inconspicuous, what with their celebrity status and all. He pulled over in front of a meter on Virginia Street in my favorite part of the city – Allentown.

"Betty’s?" Shannon asked.

"Betty’s," I confirmed. "I recommend the black bean burrito," I said as I dragged them inside.

We sat at a table in the corner and nobody seemed to recognize Jared or Shannon. Everybody seemed over the age of the usual fans or fangirls. And that’s what my intention had been.

"Awesome place," Jared commented as we waited for our drinks, looking around in wonder at the artwork displayed on the walls.

"It changes all the time," I said, motioning to the painting just above his head. "Haven’t seen that one before..."

Dinner passed quickly as we talked about what to do for the rest of the night. I was tired, but I only had so many nights back here, in my city, and I didn’t want to waste a single one.

Once back at my apartment, I changed into something more "night on the town" appropriate, which happened to be light blue jeans, a black lace cami, and my white skull jacket with a pair of black heels. As we stepped outside and walked down the street to Kevin’s apartment, I wondered at how I had gone out the night before in nothing but a mini skirt and tank top without freezing.

Oh wait. I had been numb.

I shook the memories away again and leaned closer against Jared, his arm wrapped around my waist as we walked.

Sarah answered the door in a bathrobe. She hugged me hello, glanced down at her apparel, and blushed. "I suppose I should go get dressed," she said and darted away. Kevin walked out of the kitchen and ushered us inside.

"Why the fuck doesn’t anybody tell me anything?!?!" I wailed as Sarah re-emerged, dressed, and planted a quick kiss on Kevin. Or, why hadn’t I noticed yesterday? I guess we were all a bit distracted.  Finally, they had realized their feelings.

Sarah shrugged and ignored the question as she dropped into my lap and wrapped her arm around my neck. "So best friend, where we going?" she asked.

"I was thinking Soundlab..."

She looked at me, surprised I didn’t say Chippewa, but I couldn’t go back there yet. She knew something happened, but she blinked and decided to let it go for now. "Sweet," she said, getting up and grabbing a jacket. "Let’s boogie."

"Boogie?" I teased, poking her in the side as I ran out the door and jumped into her car, pulling Jared after me.

"No Chippewa?" he whispered in my ear when we were on our way.

His brow was furrowed in a cute way and I had to stop myself from ignoring the question and kissing him. I frowned and shook my head. He nodded in understanding as I affirmed his reference to last night. "Besides, you liked Soundlab," I whispered. He smiled and kissed my temple, squeezing my shoulder.

When we got there, we slipped in the back to avoid as many people who would recognize him and Shannon as possible. The guys made themselves comfortable on a back couch while Sarah and I grabbed a drink and went out on the dance floor. I told myself the pain in my hips didn't exist and I lost myself in song after song with my best friend.
Returning to the couches, I collapsed on Jared's lap and gave him a quick kiss before downing what was left of my third and decidedly final drink. I was pretty sure a completely drunk Laura would not go over too well after the almost-events of 24 hours before.

"Dance with me?" I asked him, shouting over the music, but probably louder than I needed to. He laughed and shook his head, holding me tighter around the waist. "Having fun?" I twisted around and asked quietly into his ear.

"Absolutely," he said. "But I want to go home," and his lips brushed my neck, teasing. A chill went down my spine, but I set it aside for the time being and dragged Sarah back to the middle of the floor for one last dance. Which turned into three.

And then it was 1:30 am. Usually, or at least in the past, I would have been good for another three hours. But Jared had been watching me dance. And I had been watching him watching me. And there was something unreadable in his eyes as the chills from his lips on my neck returned. So I picked up my jacket from its place next to him and pulled him to his feet while everyone else finished their drinks and Sarah handed Jared the keys. The five of us went out the back and piled into the car again. Jared parked it back in front of Kevin’s. We said goodbye and walked back down the street to my apartment.

Distracted by each other, we started up the walk.

"Bro!" Shannon called behind us. "Keys?"

"Oh shit, right. Sorry," Jared called back and threw him the keys.

"Call if you need it tomorrow," Shannon said, motioning to the car, before getting in and speeding away.

I blinked, not really caring about our lack of transportation. There was only one thing I cared about at the moment. The chills were increasing. I tightened my grip on his hand and we walked up the stairs and into the apartment, locking the door behind us. I dropped my purse and jacket onto the couch, kicked off my heels, and picked my way through the dark living room to my bedroom. I stopped inside the door, listening for footsteps behind me, but they weren’t there.

I began wondering if I had misinterpreted him wanting to come home, his lips on my neck, the look in his eyes, the chills. But his eyes. Misinterpretation didn’t happen, not with me. But we had been together this morning, so maybe I did.

Dismissing it, I walked across the room to my closet and pushed open the doors. I threw my jacket on a hanger and stretched, realizing I was nowhere near ready for bed. I gathered my hair in my hands and held it on top of my head for a moment before letting it fall back, debating what to do. Lay down anyway? Watch a movie? Check emails? And where was Jared?

I sighed and was about to reach for the button on my jeans when two hands landed on my sides and a kiss was planted on my shoulder. Chills. A sharp intake of breath came next as the hands moved around to my stomach.

"Were you…"
"Mmhmm," he mumbled.

"…watching me," I finished, my voice a whisper. I let out a shaky breath as his lips found that spot on my neck that caused my knees to go weak. The same spot he had brushed against at Soundlab. My tease. My teeth hypnotically found the corner of my lip and came down hard.  My head fell back against his shoulder when his fingertips began tracing the skin along the top of my jeans.  My abdomen quivered and contracted, trying to maintain some element of control.  He knew the power he had over me, and he was in control.

“This morning...” I whispered.

He smiled against my shoulder.  “It’s never enough,” he said.  I smiled, his breath hot on my skin.  His words confirmed my thoughts. I hadn’t misinterpreted.  “And then watching you dance...”

I wanted to turn around.  I wanted his kiss.  I wanted to be on the bed.  But he held me in place.  Satisfied I wasn’t going to try moving again, he slowly unbuttoned my jeans and pulled the zipper down.  My hands started shaking, my heart racing.  He was moving too slow for my taste, and he knew it.  So he slowed down even more. He hooked his fingers through two belt loops and pulled the fabric down my legs.  I started chewing frantically on my lip again.  Kneeling, he lifted one foot, then the other, tossing my jeans to the side.  He rose, letting a hand brush lightly against my thigh on its way up.

Once standing, he finally stepped around in front of me.  His hands cupped my face and he pulled me to him, letting his lips linger before beginning to walk forward, pushing me back and towards the bed.  He slowly lowered me to the mattress, keeping one hand on the small of my back, lightly applying pressure.  Once lying down, I immediately reached for his vest, removing it before proceeding with his shirt, tearing at the buttons down the front.  He didn’t help this time, letting me struggle and pressing his mouth to mine, slowing down the entire process.

When the shirt was gone, I stopped, suddenly enthralled by the look in his eyes.  The same look that had been there while I was dancing.  The moon was shining through the open window, throwing light and shadows across his face and chest, but I could still make out his eyes.  My breath caught in my throat.  I still couldn’t identify it, but I knew it wasn’t new.  Whatever it was he had never allowed me to see it in the past. 

Before I could figure it out, he pressed himself against me with a renewed hunger and need, his slow pace gone.  I let rational thinking go as he pulled the cami over my head and the bra from my arms, finally removing the last articles of clothing from my body and his own.

He reached down and brushed the hair out of my face before kissing me again.  His lips were forceful against mine, refusing to leave, his body containing immeasurable power about to be unleashed within me.  The knowledge of what came next slowly drew my legs apart as he positioned himself, unwillingly tearing his mouth from mine.

And then his body was grinding against mine, keeping me forcefully pressed against the bed as he entered me and we began our ascent.

Immediately I released my grip on the sheets above my head.  Unable to resist his body, I gave up the fight.  I felt the quiver returning to my abs, my whole body beginning to shake as I began to ride the waves his motions created.  My fingers dug into his skin, any part of him I could find, and my back arched uncontrollably off the mattress.

Delighting in my passion, he threw his hips harder against me, deeper within me, faster.  My eyes closed and my hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheets on either side of me.  I was afraid that if I let go, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself down.  Multiple words formed on my tongue, pushed away by something new before getting the chance to pass through my lips.  I lacked the control necessary to speak.  To scream, to whisper, to even moan.

With every movement, we were closer to the end.  The beautiful moment that rivaled all others.  Something inscrutable escaped Jared’s lips as he reached that moment, freezing momentarily above me.  I wrapped my legs around his hips and watched as his eyes opened and he began thrusting again, taking me to my ecstasy. 

And beautiful it was.

My heart still pounding against my chest, he lowered himself next to me, lying on his back.

“Fuck.  That was...you are...amazing,” I said gasping.

He laughed and pulled me up on top of his stomach.  “Same to you love,” he murmured.

Not wanting to forget anything about him, and this moment, I buried my face in his neck, the scent of sweat and cologne filling my nostrils.  His hands came to rest on the small of my back and I focused on his heartbeat as it calmed and slowed.  The rise and fall of his chest became rhythmic as he drifted into a light sleep. I lay awake on top of him, reliving and reeling from the past 24 hours, comforted by his presence beneath me.

Okay, so I have posted Part 4 of my other story.  Hope you like it, if you read it.  But I said I'd keep you updated, so here you go.

Link again

I don't like the end of it, but I tend to say that a lot, don't I?  Eh, oh well.
Let me know what you think, if you can.  <33

Once again, sorry this took so long.  But here it is.
I'm not a huge fan of the last part.  I think I've written better, but eh.
Hope you all enjoy!  <33

It's been way too long since my last chapter, I know.  And I'm very sorry.  I didn't get as much written over vacation, due to other distractions, and I haven't had time to finish it yet.  But I should have it done by Thursday at the latest.  Promise.

In the mean time, I thought I'd share with you something else I've been writing.
Click me.
It's a story, without a title, and only three parts so far.  But, if you read it, I'd love to know what you think.  If it's good, bad, or whatever.
And you'll obviously have to scroll down to the bottom for Part 1.
And it's not a fanfic or anything, just a normal story, so maybe it won't interest some of you, I don't know.

But if you like it, I can keep you posted on it when I write more.
Kaythanx.
<33Retro

Eww.  I really don't like this chapter.  And I re-wrote parts of it twice, some parts three times.  And it's relatively short compared to some chapters in the past.  But maybe, hopefully, you will like it.  Sorry for any typos.
And this is most likely my last chapter until April 15th at the earliest, but mostly likely a few days after that.  I'm going on vacation Thursday, and I won't have time to get another one written before then, but I plan on writing lots while I'm gone.
Hope you enjoy.  <33

When the sky began to lighten, I reluctantly pried myself out of his arms, but only for a moment, until I was facing forward. I settled back down between Jared’s legs, his knees bent on either side of me, and he pulled me tightly back against his chest. He rested his chin on top of my head and crossed his arms over my torso.

At some point, I felt his head start to move back and forth on top of my head. Curious, I looked over at the end of the deck and caught Shannon disappearing back into the house through the sliding glass door. Neither of us wanted the moment to end.

But eventually, it did. When the sun was reaching the treetops, we reluctantly stood, stretched, and grinned at each other.

"Your song…" he started to say.

But I didn’t want to ruin it with words. I pressed my fingers to his lips until he nodded in acceptance. Then I picked up the acoustic and walked past him, starting down the staircase to the patio below. When I didn’t hear his footsteps behind me, I turned and looked up to find him. He was standing at the top of the stairs, his hand resting on the railing, and he was watching me, a cute smile gracing his features, making his eyes sparkle.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," he said slowly. "Just…just…looking at you." He walked halfway down, meeting me, and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me against him. "I love you, you know?"

I nodded against his shoulder. "I love you," I whispered.

He released me a few long moments later and followed me down the rest of the stairs, his hand grasping mine tightly, afraid to let go.

When we entered the living room, we were met with a chorus of "PANCAKES!", three eager faces waiting for us on the couch. Jared simply laughed and threw up his hands in surrender, making his way towards the kitchen while I returned the acoustic to its rightful place.

- - -

When pancakes had been consumed and practice plans for the next day had been made, Jared and I left. I made sure my lotion was secure in the backseat before I curled up in the front, facing sideways in the seat. The entire way home, I watched Jared. I didn’t know why. Maybe I was trying to read him, really understand everything he thought and felt when I sang the song for him, when we sang it together. It had felt so completely perfect to me, and I needed to know if he felt the same way. But his face was giving nothing away. He glanced at me every now and then with a quizzical and similarly probing look of his own.

I had barely walked through the front door when my Sidekick rang. I flipped it open and answered without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Laura?" The voice was soft, distant, and familiar.

"Yeah?"

"Hi." And then I knew who it was.

"EVA!" I yelled into the phone, dropping my Body Shop bag and sinking to the floor. Jared immediately knelt beside me, concern apparent on his face. But I smiled at him and nodded. Yes, it was her, and I was going to be okay. So he stood and moved towards the kitchen, giving me my space and privacy. "How are you darling? What’s going on? What’s new?"

"Slow down," she said laughing.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly.

"I’m…good. I’m better. A lot better. They say I should be home by Christmas."

"That’s amazing!"

"Yeah, I’m excited. Truthfully, I can’t wait to get out of here. It’s weird, I’m thankful I am here, but I just want it to be over," she said.

"Can you have visitors yet?" I asked.

"Yeah, that’s part of the reason I was calling. Thanksgiving is next week, and I’ll totally understand if you have plans with Jared, and I know you’re on the other side of the country, but Sarah and Kevin are coming here to the center for shitty cafeteria food, and you’re welcome to come…if you want."

"OF COURSE I’m coming!" I said. "Nothing would stop me from coming."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I’m fucking sure," I said forcefully. "I love you girl, I wouldn’t miss it for anything."

When we eventually hung up, I wandered the house, looking for Jared. He was in the sunroom, watching Judas and Lucifer run around the back yard. He lifted his arm, waiting until I was comfortably nestled against him before draping it over my shoulders.

"How is she?" he asked quietly.

"She’s good," I said, smiling to myself. "She sounds really good. And she can have visitors now."

"That’s amazing!" he said. "When are you going?"

I sat up, pulling myself out of his arms and looking at him. "How did you know?"

"Because I know you. I know how important your friends are to you, and you would NEVER not go and see her, now when she needs you the most."

"I think you know me too well," I said teasing him.

"No such thing," he said, leaning forward and kissing me quickly. When he pulled back, he looked at me seriously again.

"Thanksgiving," I said. "I didn’t know if you had plans for us, with your family or something, which would seriously freak me out since I haven’t met them yet, but I have to go back to Buffalo. I HAVE to," I said, my voice getting quieter as I continued.

"No problem," he said calmly. "I hadn’t really thought about Thanksgiving, with everything going on with us lately. You should definitely go back to Buffalo."

"Are you sure?" I asked tentatively.

"It doesn’t matter if I’m sure. Are you sure? It can’t be easy, seeing her there."

I chewed on my lip for a few moments, not completely sure how to react, feel, respond. "It doesn’t matter if I’m sure either. I have to deal with it, because I have to see her. I can’t not go."

"I know," he said pulling me back against him.

"I’ll miss you," I whispered.

He squeezed me against him tighter and replied, "I’ll miss you too."

- - -

When we got up a few hours later, Jared started making dinner, and I took a much-needed shower. When I returned to the kitchen, there was a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup waiting for me. Jared was leaning against the counter, waiting for me. I grinned at the meal, one of my favorites.

We sat down and I started eating, but Jared didn’t. His food was in front of him, but he didn’t touch it. Instead, he was watching me and the look on his face told me there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how yet.

I set down my sandwich and pulled my feet up on the chair, hugging my knees to my chest. "What’s going on?" I asked. I didn’t know what to expect.

"I was just thinking about Thanksgiving, you going back to Buffalo."

"And?"

"And I think I’m going to come with you, if that’s okay."

I swallowed the lump growing in my throat before reacting. "It’s okay with me. I’d love it, actually. I have a feeling I’m going to need you. But what about your family?"

"I’d still stay here for Thanksgiving, but fly out the next day. We can spend a few days there, as long as you want."

I got up and fell into his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling his lips down to mine. When we broke, I said, "You’re amazing," against his mouth.

"I know," he said playfully, and closed our connection again.

I reluctantly returned to my seat and finished eating, then dragged Jared into the living room, pulling him down onto the couch with me to watch Laurel Canyon.

Following in past patterns, I fell asleep somewhere in the middle. I woke up just as I was being laid in bed, the covers landing on top of me. I felt Jared’s body land on the mattress beside me and immediately turned over, nuzzling my head into his chest. He laughed softly and kissed the top of my head before resting a hand on my hip.

- - -

The next morning was band practice. The alarm on Jared’s blackberry went off around 10:00. A rude awakening, but it was better than 8:00. By 10:45, we were in the car, and by 11:00, we were back at Shannon’s. Jared and Shannon grabbed an armful of water bottles each from the fridge as I made my way to the practice room I had woken up in two nights before. I curled myself into the corner of the same couch, swallowed half a bottle of water, and tuned the world out, listening only to the music. Their process never ceased to baffle me.  It was impressive really.  When they were playing together, it was like words weren’t necessary.  If something went wrong, they all knew.  And they all started over, from the same place, at the same time.  Words only passed for suggestions, and even then, it was a rare occurrence.  After a few warm-up songs, they worked for a while on A Beautiful Lie, then went through a few new songs I hadn’t heard before.

When they were done, and I had sworn what I had heard to secrecy, we went out to lunch.  There was a tiny little diner a few blocks away.  They had obviously been there before, because we were automatically seated in the back, away from the stares of other customers, and they guys didn’t even have to look at a menu.  I ordered my usual large glass of Dr. Pepper, a salad, and a side of french fries.  When the waitress had taken everyone’s orders and left, Jared’s arm snaked around my waist and he said, “Laura has some news for you all.”

I looked at him, surprised and confused.  “I do?”

He stared at me for a second, amazed I didn’t know what he was talking about.  “Phone, last night,” he said quietly.

I blinked, realization hitting me. “Ooooooh that.”

“Yeah, that.  Go ahead,” he said, nudging my shoulder.

“Okay, well, I heard from Eva last night,” I said looking up at Shannon.  His were the first eyes I found, and he had seemed to be the most upset when I first shared the news of her overdose.  Nobody said anything, so I continued.  “She’s doing a lot better, and she can have visitors now.  So I’m going back next week, the day before Thanksgiving, and then Jared’s coming out the day after,” I said looking over at him.

“That’s amazing.  She’s really doing better?” Shannon finally asked.

“Yeah,” I said smiling.  “She really is.  She sounded a lot better, and she sounded happy.”

After a few moments, Shannon said, “Do you think she’d mind if I came out with Jared?  Or, would you guys mind?”

I looked over at Jared, surprised, not sure how to react.  He was shaking his head, grinning at me.  “No problem bro,” he said to Shannon.  “I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

“Sweet,” Shannon said, and took a big gulp of water from his glass.

After that, to my great surprise, Tomo and Matt didn’t start making fun of Shannon and his little-boyish crush on Eva.  I didn’t know why, maybe it was because of her present situation.  But they promptly changed the subject, talking about holiday shows to do around Christmas, maybe KROQ, did they want to or not.  I tuned it out, allowing them to make their decisions as usual, along for the ride to whatever shows they played.  Instead, I started thinking about Eva.  I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle it when I saw her, especially since we would be at the rehab clinic.  Jared knew I was distracted.  He kept reaching over and squeezing my thigh, glancing at me to make sure I was okay.  And I was.  There were just some things I needed to think through.

When we got back home, he led me upstairs and pulled me onto the bed with him.  We lay down facing each other, and his hand immediately reached for my face, brushing the hair back and behind my ear.  We were a safe distance from each other.  Close enough to feel his warm breath on my skin, but far enough that we could talk without getting...distracted.

“What were you thinking about, at lunch?” he asked softly.

“A couple things,” I said slowly.  He didn’t react, just kept staring at me, waiting for me to continue.  “Eva mostly.  And going back to Buffalo.  And how...extremely...lucky I am that you’re going to come.  Because I don’t know what it’s going to be like.  I don’t know if I’m going to get freaked, or what’s going to happen.  I’d like the believe that I can handle it, but I guess I’ve learned now that I can’t handle as much as I’d like to.  I dunno...” I trailed off.

“There’s something else,” he prodded.

I shook my head stubbornly against the comforter, but it was something that had to be talked about.  I took a deep breath and started.  “Remember how you asked me to move in?”  He nodded.  “Well, do you still mean it?”

He looked surprised, genuinely stunned, and propped his head up on his elbow.  Apparently this required being slightly more aware.  “Why wouldn’t I still want you to move in?” he asked slowly.

“Well, I don’t know really.  After everything, with us.  Me shutting myself down, you walking away.  I don’t know, I just wanted to make sure.”

A smile spread across his face.  “If you still want to, I still want you to.”

Warmth flowed through me and I smiled back.  “So that’s one of the things I was thinking about.  A lot, after thinking about Eva.”

“And what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking, what if I told my landlord I was moving out? I mean, it would be sort of weird, not having it anymore, but if I’m going to truly move in, that means I need the rest of my stuff, right?  And why not do it now?”

He looked surprised again.  I didn’t know how he was going to react.  He quickly ran his tongue across his lower lip before speaking.  “What if......what if we just kept your apartment.  Then you, or we, could go back and visit whenever we want, and we’ll have a place to stay. You can still bring more of your stuff back, but it’s not like you have to bring your furniture unless you’re really attached to any of it.  So you could bring the rest of your clothes and personal things here, and just take a bag with you when you go back to visit.”  He sounded excited by the end, like he had come up with the most brilliant plan ever.

I started laughing, entertained by his self-pride, finding it cute.  He was trying to make me happy, and he seemed to truly like his idea.  “That sounds perfect,” I said, and leaned forward until I fell on top of him.  He grabbed my arms and flipped me over on to my back.  He appeared above me and dropped his head to mine for a quick kiss.

“Glad you like it!” he said, then let his arms give out and fell directly on top of me.  I wriggled out from underneath him, needing to breath, and sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting for him to look up at me.

“Take me somewhere,” I said when he did.

“Huh?” came his muffled response.

“Come on, walk I want to go somewhere.  And I don’t have a clue where.”

“Now?” he whined.

“Yes,” I said grabbing his wrist and pulling him up.  “Now.”  He dragged his feet behind me, trying to be reluctant but failing miserably.  Eventually he gave up and hopped into his car, waiting for me to follow.  “Where are we going?” I asked excitedly.

“Hey!” he said.  “You asked me to take you somewhere, so I am, but you don’t get to ask questions.”  I looked incredulously at him and opened my mouth to say something, but instead, I turned to look out the window and pouted.  I tried to do so without smiling, but Jared started laughing at me, and eventually, I gave up.

We arrived at the ocean, the car parked on the top of some relatively high bluffs.  Delighted, I fell out of the car and ran towards the edge, Jared following closely behind me, out of concern and not excitement.

“I’m not going to fall,” I said, shaking off his cautious hands.  “Come on, where’s the adventurous Jared?” I said looking back at him.  He glared at me before grinning, taking my wrist and pulling me along the edge to a narrow trail leading down the side of the cliff to the rocks below and the ocean spray.  He went down first, and I followed closely behind.  Once at the bottom, I picked my way around loose rocks, jumping over the places where rock gave way to water.  Reaching my destination, a large flat-ish rock that stuck out into the water, I turned around to find Jared.  He was standing on a different rock in the direction I had come from, facing the water.  There was something calming and powerful about his pose and his face.  I sank to the rock and pulled my knees up to my chest to watch him.  He must have stood there for ten minutes at least.  I wanted to know what he was thinking.  What he was losing himself in.  Slowly, he took a step back, then turned around and jumped to another nearby rock before looking around for me.  I smiled and waved at him and he made his way over.  I cocked my head and gave him a questioning look.

“What?” he shouted over the angry crash of waves against rock.

“Nothing,” I yelled, shaking my head.  I turned to face the water and he sat down next to me, bending his knees and resting his forearms across them.  “Thank you for bringing me here,” I leaned over and said into his ear.  In answer, he turned his head and his lips caught mine as I pulled my head back.  I smiled into the kiss before pulling away and turning to the water again, basking in the occasional salt spray that rose over the edge of the rock.  I kept glancing over at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of the same power and calm that had been there when he was standing, but it wasn’t there anymore.

When the sky was darkening, the sun falling below the horizon, Jared shook me back to reality.  I hadn’t been sleeping, but I had been in a self-induced trance.  I willingly took his hand and let him lead me safely back up the cliff and to the car.

It's not as long as I'd hoped, but it felt like the right place to end it.

Hope you enjoy.

When I woke, I was alone. My heart fell slightly as my mind registered the absence of his body under mine. I couldn’t figure how he managed to get up without waking me.

A loud crash resounded through the house and I fell off the couch onto the floor. In my half-awake state, the obvious source of the noise wasn’t so obvious. I slowly raised myself to a standing position, a part of my brain desperately trying to remember where I had left the Demerol bottle.

I crept slowly and softly to the door, waiting to hear if the crash would sound again.

And it did, scaring me to the edge of death. I poked my head around the doorframe. The house was dark. As I stood in the doorway debating my next move, a flash of light illuminated the living room and kitchen. Thankful I wasn’t epileptic, I finally realized what was going on and a smile spread across my face as what I now recognized as thunder crashed again a few moments later. My ears tuned in to the environment and registered raindrops pounding the roof.

I was about to find a better view when my stomach began controlling my motor skills. I found myself in the kitchen while my eyes finally focused in on the darkness. There was something foreign on the counter. I switched the light on over the sink to find a brownie and folded note in front of me. There was a red frosting heart on the top of the brownie and my name was scrawled across the paper in Jared’s familiar writing.

My thoughts, naturally having a mind of their own, turned to our previous conversation when he mentioned the things he did for me without occasion. And here he was, doing something else sweet that I didn’t feel I deserved.

I picked up the folded sheet and opened it.

Laura –

I didn’t have the heart to wake you, you looked so peaceful and exhausted. I couldn’t sleep, so

I’m going for a drive. I might end up at Shannon’s for a little while if it’s not too late for him. I

love you, and I’ll be home soon.

- Jared

Understanding and empathy flooded me, whether it was accurate or not. I realized that I had done the same thing two nights before, but I hadn’t even left a note. Jared just got lucky and found me in the park.

My eyes re-read ‘if it’s not too late.’ I glanced at the clock on the microwave. 3:13 am. I set the note on the table as another flash of lightning filled the room.

There was the sound of an explosion in the street before thunder clapped again. I was plunged into darkness as a transformer failed and power was lost.

"Sweet," I said aloud.

My spirits rose as I felt along the hall and my eyes readjusted to dark again.

Reaching the stairs, I ascended and walked through our bedroom to the bathroom. I opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out an armful of pillar candles, usually used when taking a bath. A blissful smile plastered across my face, I grabbed my lighter, incense, and holder out of the drawer next to the bed.

Back downstairs, I went out to the sunroom, not sure if it was safe to be in a completely glass room except for the stone floor, but I didn’t care. I set everything up on the coffee table in front of one of the overstuffed couches. I ignited the lighter, watching with glee as the flame burst forth into the air. A small part of me yearned for a cigarette between my fingers, but I pushed the urge away and lit the candles and incense laid out before me.

I retrieved my brownie from the kitchen with the aid of another series of flashes of light. Returning to the sunroom, I curled myself up on the couch and bit into my brown and red treat. It was chocolaty perfection, made even better with the discovery of chocolate chips mixed in. As I chewed, it suddenly fully dawned on me that I was actually eating a brownie. Brownies? When did Jared make those?

Dismissing the question based on its irrelevancy, I finished the brownie and lay on my back looking up at the glass roof. There were a few treetops around the edges of my view of the sky. Fat raindrops consistently pummeled the glass and the ground outside. The sound was soothing, the greatest sound nature created. Lightning flashed again, outlining leaves, creating foreboding black shadows, and flooding each individual raindrop resting on the glass with pristine white light before it disappeared from the sky. Thunder crashed, long and loud. I felt the vibrations in my chest and watched as they shook raindrops loose. Thousands of tiny water droplets joined together in rivulets, streaming down the sloped roof and converging yet again, forming small rivers that ran down the glass walls. The candlelight reflected on every glass surface, each flame visible and clearly defined.

I’m not sure how long I lay there, watching the candles’ flames, the running raindrops, the constantly flashing lightning, and listening to the roaring thunder.

I remembered my mom explaining thunder to me when I was little and hiding under the bed with my dog, scared. "It’s only the gods Laura," she used to say. "They’re bowling." I laughed softly to myself at the ridiculousness of her tale. But it worked. I would always crawl back out from beneath the bed and curl up under my covers once again as she tucked me in tightly, kissed me on the forehead, and whispered "Bowling."

That was before I was old enough to disappoint her.

Snapped out of my memory, I heard the front door open and close. I didn’t get up. A few minutes later, a damp Jared stepped into the dim glow of the sunroom. I turned to my side and looked at him. He looked wide awake, a smile lighting up his features. He was clearly enjoying the current weather as much as I was. He pulled his wet sweatshirt over his head and ran a hand through his dripping hair.

"Thunderstorms," I said as he stood stationary and watched me. "The greatest natural phenomenon to ever occur."

He grinned wider and walked around the table to the couch, falling on top of me. Not having taken a Demerol earlier, I yelped as his legs crashed against mine. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes and Jared immediately jumped up off of me. I closed my eyes waiting for the wave of pain to pass.

"I am so sorry," Jared kept saying, his voice apologetic and regretful.

"It’s okay, don’t worry about it," I said. "I’m fine, I’m okay, really," I added when he didn’t stop apologizing.

He left the room and returned a minute later with my Demerol bottle. He paced a little as I opened it and popped one in my mouth. He still wasn’t comfortable with my use of painkillers, but that would never change.

He wasn’t relaxing or calming down, and an occasional "I’m sorry" slipped from his mouth.

I caught his hand as he paced past me again. "Jared," I said loudly. Thunder crashed after I spoke, reinforcing my tone, and his eyes flew to mine. "I’m okay. I’m not hurt." His eyes softened and he seemed to begin to believe me.

I scooted back against the cushions and pulled him down onto the couch beside me. The light from the candles on the table behind him cast his face in shadows. I couldn’t see his eyes, but it didn’t matter, because soon his lips were against mine and my eyes automatically closed. I jumped as thunder rolled through the sky again and I accidentally bit down on his lip. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make him smile.

I unwillingly pulled away and leaned my body against his. "Where’d you go?" I asked softly, not pressing, but curious.

"Down to the ocean. I drove along the cliffs for a little while, watched the storm come. When it started raining, I drove over to Shannon’s, but the house was dark. I figured he was asleep, so I didn’t even get out of the car," he said. "But I debated pounding on the door and waking him up, or letting myself in, jumping on him in bed, and scaring the shit out of him."

I started laughing. "Unlike us, most people are actually sleeping at 3 o’clock in the morning. And they usually don’t appreciate being woken up. In fact, we should be sleeping right now," I said.

He made a face and said, "I don’t care whether he would have appreciated it or not! My job is not to keep him happy. As his younger brother, it is my duty to do things like jumping on him in the wee hours of the morning." He smiled proudly, taking great joy in his self-proclaimed task, before continuing. "As for sleeping, I thought you would be still."

"Me? Sleeping during a thunderstorm? Hell no. I never sleep through them. I always get up and watch. Besides, when is the last time we actually slept during the hours people normally sleep?"

He chewed on his lip, seriously contemplating my question. "I have no idea," he said suddenly, starting to laugh, both of us amused by our unconventional habits.

We fell silent, peacefully and calmly listening to the rain and waiting for another flash of light. Jared slid his hand under my side and lifted me up off of the cushions. He turned onto his back and lowered me back down on my stomach on top of him. My legs fell between his and he laid his arms across my back.

I smiled and whispered, "If I was a cat, I would be purring right now."

His chest shook as he laughed quietly and a hand began playing with my hair. I snuggled closer against him and focused my eyes on a candle flame as lightning filled the room. I closed my eyes and waited for the thunder, wanting to feel the vibrations reverberate through my body like the loudest explosions of fireworks.

I opened my eyes and searched myself for any fragment of our unresolved problems, but for now, they had disappeared leaving me only with an intense need for the man beneath me. I lifted my head and rested my chin on his chest. He looked down at me, directly into my eyes, reading my feelings. The candle glow warmed the side of his face and with another flash of lightning, all of his features were illuminated.

In that split second, I saw everything I had never seen before. I saw his imperfections and his vulnerability. I saw all of the reasons I love him and the extent of his love for me. The air changed as he realized his own vulnerability and sensed my comprehension. I didn’t move as he ran his hands up and down my back, trying to ease his own discomfort without withdrawing. I watched him as his face gradually relaxed and his hands slowed, coming to a rest at the small of my back.

I tried to make out the entirety of his features again, delve deeper into facets of the man I still didn’t completely know the way I wanted to, the way I thought I had. But the moment had passed and I was left with only the small glimpse that had accompanied the lightning.

I laid my head down again and listened to his heart, beating in perfect time with the rhythm of the pouring rain hitting the roof and walls. My mind kept wanting to replay our conversation from the music room earlier that day, but I wouldn’t let it happen. I needed the present. Not the past. Not now. I needed to stop over-examining and over-analyzing everything.

As I kept telling myself that, Jared’s hands started to move again. A hand landed on my arm, fingers running up and down, tracing circles around my elbow before moving to my shoulder, neck, and then playing with my hair again. His other hand reached under my shirt and rested lightly against my skin on the rise of my hip. His heart slowly picked up pace as his hands moved across my body, and mine quickly followed suit.

Understanding his body language, I dug my toes into the couch cushions as another crash of thunder rolled and pushed myself up his chest until our heads were almost level. I stopped and looked into his eyes again, trying to communicate my resurfacing and strengthening need for him without speaking. I saw the same in his eyes before he applied the slightest bit of pressure to the back of my head where his fingers remained in my hair. My head was willingly brought the rest of the way to his and he rose slightly off of the cushions to meet me.

Our desire for each other erupted as soon as our mouths connected. My eyes flew shut, the feel of his skin against mine, his hands on my body, and his undivided focus was all I registered. My head began spinning, plunging me into a passionate fervor as his tongue danced past my lips. His hand moved from my hip, sliding further up my back and applying slight pressure, pulling me closer against him. As I forced my lips harder against his, both of his hands moved again to my lower back and pushed me harder against his jeans.

The thunder, lightning, and rain disappeared. Followed closely by the couch, candles, and incense. I lost focus and ran both of my hands into his hair, gripping it tightly, not wanting his lips to ever leave mine. He returned the embrace completely, sparks flying in the small or nonexistent spaces between us.

His hands moved towards the button on my jeans when sirens screamed in my head. Bells and whistles sounded; the unhappy kind, not the children’s toy playful kind.

My body was failing me. I was doing everything I could to pour forth the entirety of my love, passion, need, and yearning for him. But it wasn’t enough. My own feelings were smothering my senses, and it was a foreign experience, one I never expected. To my sudden horror and dismay, I began to uncontrollably withdraw. My body did a complete 180. I lessened the pressure of my lips against his as I began to seal myself off. I threw all of my strength into fighting the walls being constructed, but it was to no avail. I didn’t want him to notice. I wanted him to keep going, to unfasten that button and pull me back to him, bring my under again. But he sensed my change as he always did.

It was Jared’s words that stopped the walls when our kiss broke.

"We accept the love we think we deserve," he whispered, looking up at me, watching my face curiously and waiting for a reaction. The withdrawing stopped and delight took over as the origin of his words flashed before my eyes. He had read it.

"I can’t believe you…" He smiled and nodded, putting a finger to my lips, wanting to know what my actions would be, what my choice would be.

He needed to know what I was going to accept.

I drew my fingers down his cheek, tracing the pronounced bone down to his chin. I paused and looked into his eyes before pulling his head up to mine. The brief suffocating sensation gone, I accepted.

He had the kind of power over me where it only took eight simple words to captivate me once more. Eight perfect words from the perfect book to fix me, and eight perfect words to bring me back to him.

He slowly sat up, his hands still residing on my hips, our lips maintaining their connection. I was forced onto my knees on the cushions, my legs on either side of his. I fumbled for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, his mouth finding mine again as soon as the shirt was gone. He didn’t move while our kiss gained intensity, my body becoming more and more impatient as my hands slid over his chest.  After what was surely an eternity, his fingers began lightly tracing up my sides, taking the cotton fabric with them.  When my shirt had been discarded to the floor, the weight of his body slowly pushed me backwards and I fell against the cushions.

His lips were on my neck, my hands clawing at his back as he disappeared from view. My body began writhing as I suffered withdrawal, needing his touch and needing to touch him. Giving me my fix, his lips and fingers began tracing the curves of my body.  Teasing, taunting.  A hand forced its way under my back, allowing my bra to slide off of my arms. My hands reached for him, and I groped for any part of his body I could. I grasped a small handful of hair and started pulling. I simultaneously did and didn’t want him to stop, but the part of me that wanted his jeans in range of my hands conquered.  He laughed as I continued to lose composure, lose track of what my own body was doing.  I smiled ecstatically at him before he pressed his lips against mine again, feeding the fire.

I instinctively slowed down as I felt Jared’s shift from playful passion to immeasurable love and depth of emotion.

I toyed with the top of his black jeans before slipping my fingers beneath them slightly, my other hand unfastening the button.  I pushed my hands down his thighs, taking his Calvin Klein’s with me.  When his discarded clothing joined my shirt on the floor, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them with one hand above my head.  A finger traced my lips, continuing down my neck, chest, stomach, and the skin along the top of the thick blue fabric of my jeans.  I bit my lip hard as my abdomen began to quiver, losing any semblance of composure I had maintained until that point.  While he unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, there was nothing I wanted more than to be one with him again.

At last the comfort of his body above mine settled over us and he lowered himself slightly.  My head rose from the couch and pulled his lips into a kiss, the single action needed for him to enter my body with more ferocity than ever before.  I shuddered which each thrust of his hips, feeling nothing but divine pleasure, skin against skin, becoming one with the man I loved.  I gasped, a rough cry escaping my mouth as I let myself go.  My fingers clawed his skin, the violence of his body moving above mine increasing in intensity and speed.  My voice low and ragged, I let out another cry, and this time he joined me before crashing his mouth uncontrollably to mine, stifling both of our moans.  My legs wrapped around his hips, my hands in his hair, our lips fused together, our tongues dancing.  Thousands of silent words flew between us at a mind-numbing speed, our love a language none but us would understand, screamed to each other as we ascended.

With one final thrust, we fell from our mountain, our bodies close enough to be mistaken for one.

He drew back and I froze, a shudder wracked my body, and our eyes locked onto each other.  His gaze spoke love, desire, sadness, relief, compassion, and an intensity I couldn’t comprehend without his lips against mine, our bodies riding waves.

"I feel infinite," I whispered.

This is a product of a few bad days, mentally speaking.

Consequently, I offer my sincerest apologies if my writing is not what it should be.  In my mind, it’s not.  I was hoping this would be a lot better, but I can’t make it work.  And it’s not as long as I was hoping it would be for the amount of time it took me to write.  Rawr.

Hope you enjoy anyway, as always. <33

The next morning, I had another physical therapy appointment. The alarm on my phone vibrated excitedly and almost buzzed itself off the table next to the bed. It was a hell of a lot more excited that I was. My bruises weren’t healed and I was sure they would get worse after today.

I caught the sidekick before it fell to the ground. Flipping it open, I slammed my hand against the keypad, effectively shutting it off.

Jared’s arms tightened around my waist momentarily as I moved to get up. I wasn’t sure if he was awake or not, but I did know that I didn’t want to get up. I was afraid if I did, I would lose the inch I had gained and crash back down to my rock bottom.

But I was already going to be late.

When his arms loosened, I reluctantly crawled out of bed and turned around to look at him. His breathing was deep and his eyes were closed. His face was screwing itself into funny expressions. Still sleeping, and likely dreaming.

I didn’t know if he remembered I had an appointment or if he wanted to go. And with all of the hurt, anger, and tension between us, I wasn’t sure if he would want to be woken up.

I decided not to and quietly pulled a pair of sweatpants over shorts and a sweatshirt over a t-shirt. I pulled my hair back as I walked down the stairs and grabbed an apple from the kitchen. I bit into it and left it in my mouth as I found my keys and slipped out the door to the Prius.

Once arriving at the therapy office, I turned the car off and scarfed down the rest of my meager breakfast before reluctantly getting out and heading for the door.

- - -

I came out an hour later with fresh, darker bruises, two more appointments for the next week, and a refill for my Demerol. The only one I was happy about was the latter.

As I started my car, I fought a strong urge to drive to the nearest convenience store and buy cigarettes again. But if I did that, losing my inch would have been set in stone.   So instead, I pointed myself towards the ocean.  When I saw the pristine blue looming before me through the windshield, I turned off the air conditioning and rolled down the windows, letting the salty smell and breeze enter the car as I drove along its edge. Where the road rose on a cliff, the crash of waves against rock greeted my ears, the violence invigorating. I felt microscopic compared to the vastness of the sea.  But the feeling of being inconsequential compared to the world wasn’t depressing. It was quite the opposite really. I knew that no matter how small I was to the rest of the world, I had somebody that meant the world to me, and that loved me in return, who was waiting for me to return not matter how badly I had screwed things up. And my emotions temporarily settled themselves.

- - -

After feeling somewhat rejuvenated from my drive along the water, I didn’t want to pull into the driveway. I don’t know what I was afraid of, but there was definitely fear in me somewhere. I didn’t want to face my demons.

I checked the clock as I sat in the driveway, preparing myself to get out. It was past noon. Jared would be awake by now.

I didn’t know what else to do, so I forced myself to open the door. When I entered the house, some of the stress that had been kept within the walls had lessened. A mild comfort, a promising sign?

I found Jared in the music room. The door had been left open, presumably waiting for me.

I walked in silently. Jared was sitting on a stool in the middle of the room. He had nothing on but pajama pants, an acoustic guitar in his lap, covering half of his chest, and his bare feet resting on the rungs of the stool below him. His shoulders were hunched over the hollow body, his fingers moving nimbly over the strings. He had a pick between his teeth having opted against using it. His playing was soft and I couldn’t tell if he was playing something old or composing something new.

He didn’t look up as I closed the door behind me. We were the only two in the house and already had privacy, but habit made me close it anyway.

The pick fell from his mouth, bouncing once on it’s thin edge before settling on the soft carpet as I made my way back to the middle of the floor, about 10 feet down the length of the room from him.

"How was therapy?" he asked without stopping his playing, still not looking up.

"It was fine," I mumbled. "Hurt like hell. I...I didn’t know if I should’ve woken you up or not..."

"Only if you wanted me to go with you. I would have," he said slowly.

"Well I did want you to come, but...you were sleeping. I didn’t know what to do..."

He stood and set the guitar back in its stand. He kicked the pick off to the side and sat back down on the stool, crossing his arms over his legs. Finally, he looked up. He smiled faintly and I took a few steps forward.

"How are your legs?" he asked as I drew closer.

"Sore," I said. "I need to sit." I fell onto the couch when I reached it, my face contorting itself as my bruised thigh hit the armrest.

He grimaced as he witnessed my pain, feeling for me as he swiveled to face the couch. He tugged on his earlobe momentarily and ran his hands through his messy morning hair.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked cautiously.

I started to chew violently on my lip in the same place I had before. The skin split and burned once again, giving me something to concentrate on, new pain next to my hips.

"No," I said, my voice shaking. He was about to get up, accepting my answer, but I stopped him. "What I meant was, no, I don’t want to. But we have to. There is no better time, and I can’t keep going like…this," I said, lacking more profound words.

He got up and sat on the edge of the table in front of me, his knees brushing against mine.

"I don’t know what to say," I said helplessly. "I don’t know where to start."

"The beginning," Jared said softly. "When did all of this start?"

I sighed and dropped my head, not sure if he wanted to hear my answer. "It either started when I was born, when I started counting on nobody but myself as a teenager……or when I fell in love with you."

"When you fell in love with me?" he asked, the familiar pain of the past two days returning to his voice and face.

I nodded my head in an attempt to gather my thoughts. "Loving you like I do, deeply and completely, it scares me. You might not understand it, I don’t know.   You see, you are THE BEST thing that has ever happened to me, and no matter how many times I may have thought that I regretted you hearing me playing and singing in that parking lot on New Year’s, I never really truly regret it. Because you hearing me and seeing me there by myself made you come over and sit down and listen. And that’s when my life changed. That’s when the man I admire, the man I look to for inspiration and strength through his music; that’s when he knew I existed. That’s when you sang A Modern Myth on the hood of the car and you saw a part of me that I never voluntarily show anyone. That’s when you showed up at my hotel in the morning and remembered my favorite muffin. That’s when we started talking almost every night, you calling after every show no matter how late it was. That’s when you told me I should stop drinking. That’s when I started missing you and wanting to see you again.  But I never would have told you that.  And that’s when you showed up at Salvatore’s. That’s when I went on tour with you. That’s when you bought me a necklace without an occasion. That’s when you scheduled a date in Buffalo so I could see my friends. That’s when you kissed me." I stopped and took a deep breath.  I watched as innumerable emotions passed through his eyes and we relived the beginning of our past.  I took another slow breath and continued.  “I don’t know when it happened, but I fell in love with you, just a little.  Then you asked me to stay with you between tours.  I told you about me.  About my childhood, and about Dan.  And I told you I loved you.  I sang for you.  You told me I was beautiful and I didn’t believe you.  You gave me the notebook, and I gave you the wristband.  Then my mom died, and you were everything for me.  You held me together and shared your strength, and you helped me to get past it, both before and after Dunkirk.”  He reached out and clasped my hand in his as I briefly experienced the pain that accompanied my mother and her death.  “And then we had sex,” I continued.  “We made love, and I knew that you were it for me.  As cliché as it may sound, I fully realized that you were everything to me and that was all that I needed.”  I paused, but not for long, wanting to say everything I needed to before he said anything.  “And then it was my birthday, and you respected my need to completely ignore it.  We had fireworks on the beach with the guys, and it was spectacular.  You guided me through upset and my weakness over Dan, saying everything I needed to hear.  And then you endured me and my friends back in Buffalo, the clubs and Soundlab and everything.  Then you gave me the jewelry,” I said, my voice beginning to shake.  “My mother’s ring, the necklace and earrings.  It meant the world to me.  And we made love that night for the second time.”  I stopped again, gripping his hand while I waited for a wave of emotion to pass.  “After that, you proceeded to help me through the two year anniversary of Dan’s death.  I thought I was drowning, and you took me to the piano that I so desperately needed.  When that passed, we got home.  And things changed.  You asked me to move in, and I said yes.  But I proceeded to immediately fuck things up.”  Jared started shaking his head, like he didn’t believe what I was saying, that it wasn’t true.  But I continued anyway.  “I started telling you things about myself I was surprised you didn’t already figure out.  I revealed that I’m not good with depending on other people.  I’m not good at talking when I need to talk.  I’m not good at recognizing my own emotions.  I’m not good at being open.  With anyone.  You started to feel when I would pull away, and I started intentionally pushing you away.  I didn’t know why I was doing any of it, but it was something I couldn’t control.  And our shit got temporarily put on hold when Eva OD’d.  I tried to push you away again and go back to Buffalo by myself, but you thankfully followed me.  You guided me through dealing with Eva in the hospital and in rehab when I didn’t deserve it any form of help from you.  And when we got back home, I fucked it up again.  I freaked out and started writing words I didn’t know were in me.  When they were out, displayed on the page, I realized the truth they held.  And it hurt.  Both of us.”  I stopped, breathing heavily, exhausted from the recounting of our history together.  “And here we are.”

Jared still didn’t say anything.  He released my hand and rested his elbows on his knees, his chin in his hands.  I watched his bare chest move up and down as he took a few deep breaths, preparing himself for speech.  But I still wasn’t done.

“What I’m trying to say is, when I realized that I loved you, with everything I have, my entire being, I got scared.  I know it’s not a normal reaction, but it’s my reaction.  I’ve never allowed myself to completely love anybody.  I don’t let things be happy and perfect for very long.  I tear apart what is important to me, because I’m convinced I’m going to lose it, and sooner is better than later.”  I was finally finished, horrified at the words that had come out of my mouth.

Matt Wachter has left 30 Seconds to Mars.

It will not be the same without him.  It just won't.

And at the same time, I can completely respect his decision.

He will forever be in my Echelon heart.

Before you read this, make sure you've read Chapter 27 PART II.  I didn't post it until this afternoon, because I didn't realize that it had gotten cut off.  My bad.
Haha and just a sidenote, this chapter didn't turn out AT ALL how I was thinking it would.  It's...weird how that happens sometimes.

Hope you enjoy!

When the sun reached the top of the trees, its blinding light unobstructed by branches, I tore my eyes away. I looked around, blinking, waiting for the bright lights dancing in front of my eyes to fade. There were more people in the park now. It was a Saturday if I remembered correctly, and there were a few kids already playing on the playground, their mothers chatting and keeping a watchful eye out from the benches around me.

I uncrossed my legs and lowered them to the grass beneath my perch. A quick check of my sidekick told me it was 9:00. I groaned, my fingertips gently massaging my temples. Lack of sleep was starting to catch up with me. As I stood, the ground began to tilt and spin. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for my inner ear to balance itself.

The feeling passing, I started walking, but not back the way I had come earlier that morning. I aimed my feet in the direction of the opposite end of the park. I kept my hood pulled up, my shoulders slouched. I wanted to disappear, away from the eyes of parents, children, and runners alike, but I didn’t have the cover of shadows to fade into like I did on my journey there.

When I exited the park onto the city sidewalk, I stopped and looked around, figuring out where I was.

I spotted a gas station across the street. A sudden urge took over and I crossed, entering the small building.

When I exited, I had a pack of Marlboros and a lighter in my possession. I started walking again, this time towards home, the two objects weighing heavily in my hand and in my thoughts. It had been an impulse purchase, but a familiar one as well. One I hadn’t felt in over a year.

I tore the pack open and shook a cigarette out into my hand. I played with it for a few moments, spinning it through my fingers before bringing it to my lips. I shoved the pack in my pocket and flicked the lighter in my left hand. It ignited and the flame burst into the air. I watched it before releasing my finger.

Momentary reconsideration.

I had smoked for almost three years, since I was 16. Did I want to go back there, even once?

Fuck it, I thought, and lighter met cigarette. As the flame touched the end, a long-forgotten sensation filled my mouth, moving to my lungs.

Nicotine.

Cancer-causing, death-inducing.

A comfort.

I deposited the lighter into my pocket, exchanging it for my ipod. After placing the headphones in my ears, I brought the cigarette down from my lips, flicking the end absent-mindedly. A few moments later, as Johnny Cash’s Hurt entered my conscience, I returned it to my lips in need of the solace of the smoke once again.

I wanted something stronger, something worse. An actual drug. I wanted to fuck myself up. But I was in LA, not back home. I didn’t know where to go or have the energy to search it out.

When the first cigarette had burned to the filter, I discarded it and pulled out the pack and lighter again. Once lit, I left the second cigarette in my mouth and played with the lighter. I turned it over and over in my hand, watching the fluid fall from one end to the other.

As I walked on autopilot, I forced myself to watch as the ignition of butane caused the flame to appear, disappear, and appear again, combusting with oxygen as it entered the air. I didn’t allow myself to think about anything except the need for the warm glow to show itself.

My head was in a fog as I constantly flicked the small red lighter. I almost past the house, unaware of where I was and how long I had been walking. I looked at the pack I had been clutching tighter and tighter in my left hand. Five cigarettes were gone.

As the inevitable entrance into the house dawned on me, a tremendous sense of guilt filled every square inch of my body that wasn’t already occupied by toxic smoke. I wanted a drink.

I took one last drag on the cigarette resting comfortably between my fingers before I threw it down and ground it into the cement.

I pulled my hood up again before starting up the walk. It had fallen down during the walk, but I needed the small comfort of its seclusion as I faced what was sure to be a very angry man.

I paused on the top step, my hand on the knob. The tension, anger, and hurt I had left behind the previous night emanated through the door, almost enough to make me turn around, light up again, and walk back to Buffalo.

But I couldn’t leave him. After telling myself in the park that I had to do something to fix us, I did the opposite, something I knew he wouldn’t like. But I couldn’t leave.

My hand slid as I turned the knob. I wiped the nervous swat off of my palm and pushed the door open.

The house was silent. No sign of Judas, Lucifer, or Jared. But I knew he was there. He was waiting for me, somewhere.

I set the pack of Marlboros on the table beside the door, my lighter on top of it, before I closed the solid wood divider and leaned back against it. The click it made was a sickening sound, one that officially sealed me inside with my demons and the man they would hurt the most.

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, the smell of smoke entering my nostrils, more pungent in the closed space.

"You’re back."

My eyes flew open, and my heart began racing. Jared had appeared down the hall, coming from the living room. I lifted myself off of the door and tried to look as dignified as possible while still keeping my hood up.

"Yeah, I’m back," I said quietly.

The closer he came, the darker his face grew. As he processed the smell I carried with me and the cigarettes and lighter on the table, a silent anger overtook him.

"You were smoking," he said lowly.

His voice was death.

Cringing, I whispered a simple "Yes."

"Why?" he demanded quietly.

"Because I wanted to piss you off," I said sarcastically.  I didn’t want to delve any deeper into it.

Sarcasm was the wrong move.

He exploded, his anger breaking through his walls, stronger than he could reign in. I was suddenly being pushed against the door, the handle pressing painfully into my spine. It was a sensation I didn’t mind if his lips were against mine.

But they weren’t. They were screaming obscenities instead.

I blinked, his flushed face coming into focus just inches from mine. There was a violent fury I wasn’t accustomed to seeing. I shut myself off. I wasn’t listening to his words. I didn’t want to. I knew they would hurt.

When he stopped, still pressing me against the door, his hands clenched around my upper arms, I came back to the present and let my ears focus in on the surroundings.

He must have known that I had tuned him out. There was resurgence in the storm consuming him and he said,

"Fuck you."

With that, he broke through my anger and defiance, the blank face I had put on. It was the worst thing he had ever said to me. The burning words cut through me, opening all internal wounds from the night before that had safely scabbed over. I couldn’t control the tears streaming down my face.

I expected anger. I expected hostility. I expected disappointment and hurt. But I didn’t expect it to be so strong. Clearly, I had underestimated the man I loved.

"Fuck you," I fired back at him. I shoved him off of me and stumbled blindly forward until I reached the stairs. "It could be worse," I said threateningly before running up the stairs as fast as I could. I needed another Demerol.

I slammed the bedroom door closed behind me and searched for something I could do that would keep me alone.

I closed the bathroom door and turned the water on. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like living hell. My cheeks were black from running makeup, my eyes were red and puffy, and I couldn’t make my shoulders hold themselves up. Disgusted, I stepped into the shower and slid the glass door closed. I immediately plunged my entire head under the stream of water in an attempt to not only clean the liner and mascara off my cheeks, but to clear my head as well.

Before I even had the chance to, there was a knock on the door.

"Fucking go away," I muttered, but I was sure the comment didn’t reach his ears through the rush of water and closed door.

I heard the knob turn and the slight squeak of the door swinging open. I watched his figure through the frosty glass as he closed it behind him, walked across the room, and sat himself on the closed toilet seat. I remained motionless, trying to pretend he wasn’t there while waiting for him to speak.

I watched him run his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself down, something that should have been done before he came in.

"What did you mean by ‘it could be worse’?" he asked slowly.

I chewed on my lip, pondering a response. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be nice or not. I didn’t give a damn anymore if it hurt him. "I meant, I wanted actual fucking drugs, not just nicotine. I didn’t care what; heroine, cocaine, or marijuana I guess. Whatever. But I don’t know the LA scene like I do back home. I didn’t have a clue where to go. So I bought cigarettes."

His hands dropped from his head as I spoke and his shoulders stiffened. I could feel the anger rising again, against his will. He stood up and started pacing while I died in the shower, waiting for him to say something.

"Drugs?!" he said a little louder than necessary. "Fucking drugs? Fuck! Why?"

"Relax, I didn’t do it."

He slammed his fist into the counter and I cowered against the wall even though the shower door was between us, thinking how easily that could’ve been me and not the counter. Would he do it?

"You didn’t do it because you didn’t know the fucking SCENE!" he yelled. He flew to the shower and slid open the door. Feeling completely exposed, I backed into a corner of the stall, his face quickly instilling fear. I slid down the wall as he continued to yell.

"What were you thinking?! Why would you do that?!" His harsh words bit into me again and I buried my head in my knees until he was finished, focusing on the water running down my back.

"I wasn’t fucking thinking, okay!? But you know what? I wouldn’t have done it. I wanted to, but I wouldn’t have. After everything with Eva, I’m never touching shit again! At least, I don’t think I will. That’s the best I can do right now."

But my best wasn’t enough.

"Again? You’ve fucking done shit in the past?!"

I cringed again and huddled closer to myself. I need to stop hearing ‘fuck’ come out of his mouth. I was afraid one of these times it was going to be followed by ‘you’ again.

"Why are you surprised?" I spit at him.

He blinked, suddenly knocked off of his angry high horse for a moment. "I…I don’t know. I guess I shouldn’t be. We’ve all had our fair share I guess. But that doesn’t mean it’s okay."

"You think I don’t know that? I knew that before Eva OD’d, and I know it even better now. That’s why I said I wouldn’t have done it. They were ONLY cigarettes.  And only this once, the first time in almost a year, before you even knew I existed.  You can’t expect me to say things I won’t regret, because I do that a hell of a lot. Like saying ‘it could have been worse.’ And this is what happens when I say things I shouldn’t.”  My breathing was heavy, my words filled with as much conviction as I could muster.  “I have a past, okay? One I’m not always so proud of, but I never got in trouble with any of that shit. You just…I’m not perfect. I can’t be that for you."

He reverted back to silent anger, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Nothing I said was calming him down, but I wasn’t trying to calm him. Part of me may have even been trying to provoke him, despite it making the situation worse. I didn’t know what I was doing anymore, what I was saying, or why I was saying it.

"I know about pasts that aren’t pristine.  Forget I said anything," he said lowly.

The hot water had changed to cold, so I reached over and shut it off. Forget? Something always easier said than done.

"You don’t have to be perfect. Fuck, I don’t WANT you to be perfect. Especially not for me." His tone was softening, but it wasn’t a comfort.

He grabbed a towel from a nearby hook and handed it to me. I stood and wrapped it around me, shivering, before moving to sit on the adjacent edge of the tub.

"Would we have been okay if I hadn’t smoked?" I asked weakly, my boiling anger turning to complete desperation.  Some twisted part of me needed to hear that it was my fault, that my choices alone had caused our most recent explosion.

“No, I don’t think we would be,” he said shaking his head.

“But in the park.  I thought we were okay in the park,” I said naively.

I knew we hadn’t been, but I was looking for any excuse to blame this on myself, to let my world crash down around me.  I needed rock bottom.

"I wasn’t angry anymore," he said tiredly. "But we were far from okay, and we still are. Maybe even further now, I don’t know."

Words I didn’t want to hear.

I felt like an ant trapped in a collapsing anthill again, and I couldn’t tunnel my way to the surface.

"But we can make this work. We can fix this. We have to," I said.  “I’m sorry,” I added, forgetting his earlier demand for no more apologies.

He sat motionless, looking at me intently.  He wouldn’t open up, but I did.  I was a book, partially open, and he was reading whatever I let show, everything I was took weak to hold back. Which wasn’t much. I needed him to give me something as well. Anything. A glimmer of hope.

Instead, he dropped his hands from his chin, shook his head, stood, and walked out.

Alarmed, I sat up straight and watched him go.

"Jared!" I called after him, my arm reaching out to nothingness in the air. Desperation was now dripping from my voice as I threatened to break, again, but he didn’t come back.

He had left, walked out, repeating what had hurt the most from the previous afternoon.  It hurt as much as his words of ‘Fuck you,’ both spoken and unspoken.  He didn’t need to say them, I could read it in his posture and his actions.

Hydrogen peroxide was endlessly pouring into every open wound our words had cut.

He gave me my rock bottom.

I staggered into the bedroom, pulling on a hoodie and pajama pants before, clutching my ipod in my hand, I made my way down the stairs.

I reached the bottom and grabbed the cigarettes and lighter off of the table.  Entering the kitchen, I saw Jared sitting on a stool, his computer in front of him and his head resting in his hands.  He didn’t look up when I came in, and I didn’t say anything.  I tossed the Marlboros in to the garbage can, deposited the lighter in my pocket, and proceeded to lock myself in the music room. 

Once inside, I threw my ipod onto the couch and started pacing, my hands shoved into the front pocket of my sweatshirt.  My fingers found the lighter.  Not fully thinking, I almost lit the inside of the pocket on fire, but I caught myself and pulled it out into the open air.  The glow mesmerized me, and I walked into the table.

“Fuck!” I yelled and dropped the lighter onto the carpet, which luckily went out.

As pain shot into my knee, the pain I had been ignoring in my hip came back into focus.  I needed a Demerol, but the bottle was upstairs and I wasn’t going into the battle zone anytime soon.

I lay down on the couch, favoring my left side now pulsing agony in two places.

I shoved my headphones into my ears and powered on the music player.  I needed somebody else’s music to think, not my own.  My own would fuck me up even more.

Anarchy in Tokyo entered my eardrums, but I couldn’t listen to Jared’s voice.  Instead, I turned to System of a Down and let the screams and words of Jet Pilot take over.

Out of my control, my mind began running through everything that had happened in the last 24 hours, and then everything that had happened before I went back to Buffalo for Eva.

We had had our moments in between, when things had seemed okay.  And I couldn’t pinpoint the beginning of when we, everything, had begun spinning out of control.

But what I did see by looking back was that it all stemmed from my unwillingness to open up, lean on somebody every once in a while, speak my thoughts.  I was self-loathing, stubborn, and self-destructive, and I never realized it until it was too late.

But was it too late now?

I soft knock pushed its way through the music.  The door was locked, and I felt safe knowing he wasn’t going to come in.  But when the knock sounded again, I rose, walked to the door, and slid down its surface.

“Are you there?” his muffled voice asked.

I chewed violently on my lip.  “Yeah, I’m here.”

 “Will you come out?”

“Not yet,” I said.

I saw a shadow appear under the door as he sat down against it as well.

“Why is this happening?” he asked.

I shook my head, following it with a shrug of my shoulders before I remembered he couldn’t see me.  “I honestly don’t know anymore.”

“We have to talk.  We can figure this out.  Together.”

“I know we can,” I said, wanting and trying to believe our words, but there wasn’t any confidence in them, there wasn’t any promise or hope.  I closed my eyes in pain as I prepared to say what came next, the fear of hurting him further almost enough to make me stop and open the door.  “I’m just not ready yet.  And I can’t tell you when I will be.”

There was silence for a million eternities before I heard him speak again.  “I’m going to be here when you are.  I’m not walking away again,” he said.

I felt the truth in his words and it calmed me, just a little.

With nothing else to be said, we remained sitting on opposite sides of the door for hours.  I watched the light in the small window fade to darkness, and still his shadow was under the door.

We sat in silence, nothing filling my ears but the racing of my heart as my mind went over everything again and I tried to figure out what to do next, what to say.

“Are you coming to bed?” he asked softly, barely audible.  Startled, I snapped back to attention and called his words to the forefront of my brain.

“I don’t think so.”  I wasn’t ready yet.

He didn’t say anything.  The black of his shadow disappeared and I heard his feet on the stairs, making their way up to the bed we shared.  I would have given anything to be up there with him, lying in his arms, his body wrapped protectively around mine.  It was a feeling I had gotten used to.  A feeling I counted on every night.

But I wasn’t ready.

Tears of confusion burst forward without warning.  I felt like an awful person.  I didn’t deserve Jared, I didn’t deserve his love or the love I felt for him.

But there was no way I was letting it go.  Life without Jared wouldn’t be life.

As my brain figured this out, panic set in.

Me, not going upstairs with him, was me, pushing him away.

And I wouldn’t let myself do that again.

Salty drops still running down my face, I stood and flung the door open.  The house was dark, everything turned off for the night.  My eyes landed on the glowing green clock on the stove as I passed.  1:00.  I had been locked in by myself for a good eight hours.  And I felt like one more minute alone would be the last straw, what would destroy me completely.

As I ascended the stairs, I tried to stop the flow of tears, but they wouldn’t cooperate.  Emotionally decrepit or not, I was going to him.

The bedroom door was open, and as I reached it, he turned over and saw me.  He sat up, looking surprised, having already resigned himself to a night spent alone.

I walked slowly to my side of the bed, my hip intensifying and not allowing faster movement.

I drew back the covers and crawled underneath, facing him but maintaining space between our bodies.  I didn’t know what he wanted.

He reached and gently wiped a few still-falling tears from my cheek.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” I said.

“Me either.”

“But I do know one thing.  I would give my life for you Jared,” I said dropping my voice to a whisper.  I usually wasn’t one for clichés, but it rolled easily off my tongue.  And there wasn’t a better way for me to capture the depth of what I was feeling. The phrase still didn’t do it justice, but it was the best I had.

He smiled, his eyes warming.  “I know.”

I smiled a small smile in return and closed my eyes in anticipation of what I knew was coming.

His arm gently encompassed my back and pulled me across the small space between us.  I buried myself in him as he drew me closer.  His scent, his feel, his warmth. I needed it all.

It didn’t make things better, but we needed touch.  We needed connection.  And another night apart would have destroyed us.

As he enveloped me in his arms, he lifted me off of my rock bottom.  It was only an inch, but I was off.  An inch in the right direction.

Oh shit guys I am SO sorry.  This was supposed to go with the last chapter.  I didn't even notice that it didn't all fit on one journal!!  So so so so sorry.  It's kind of weird ending it with that question, wasn't it??  Hehe anyway, here it is.  And I copied the last few lines from the previous one, just as like context or something.  Enjoy!

The next afternoon I had my second physical therapy appointment. I was content to stay on the Demerol indefinitely and not go to physical therapy at all, but when I mentioned it, Jared refused to even acknowledge the idea. Of course. Surprised? Not at all.

I returned home bruised, the dark purple marks already beginning to show down the length of both of my thighs. Mark had told me to think about the bruises like his signature, leaving his mark on me, and even as a sign of progress. But I didn’t want him leaving his mark on me, and I definitely didn’t see it as progress. Jared was torn about it as well, wondering if being bruised was actually going to help.

A while later, the band came over for practice. At least, it was supposed to be for practice. But they basically ended up sitting around the living room, drinking beer, playing video games, and talking about the tour that had ended barely a week before. It seemed like it had been longer than that, but it hadn’t. They discussed how it had gone, things they would’ve wanted to change, and ways to change for the future.

There was a long examination and interrogation about my bruises as well, mostly by Shannon.

"Holy shit," he said when he first sat down. I was curled up on the couch, my shorts exposing the darkening black and blue marks. "What happened to you?" He cocked an eyebrow and jerked his head up towards the bedroom. "Do I want to know?"

I threw a pillow across the room at him before answering. "Physical therapy happened to me, that’s what."

"Oh yeah, bro told me about that," he said sympathetically.

I didn’t want sympathy. "Don’t worry about it," I said. "At least they’re not permanent."

He got up and moved over to me, crouching next to the couch, and looked more closely at them. I felt slightly like an animal at the zoo, but I wasn’t offended.

"That’s fucking insanity," he said in amazement. I laughed, surprised that a simple bruise could be so impressive. "Hurts, right?"

"Yes." I saw the glimpse of malice in his eyes. "DON’T TOUCH!"

He laughed and rocked back onto his heels before standing. "I would never do that. Are you kidding me? Jared would kill me."

"You’re damn right I would," Jared said, looking menacing and playful at the same time, a combination that fit him beautifully. He handed me a water bottle and sat down on the couch carefully, not wanting to shift my position and risk irritating the bruises.

Shannon’s voice changed as he said my name, bringing me out of a momentary stupor.

"Hmmm, what?" A sick feeling started in the pit of my stomach, growing into a howling black hole at breakneck speed.

Shannon’s eyes flitted to Jared, and then to the ground before he spoke. "I know you just got back, and this can’t possibly be easy for you, but is Eva going to be okay?" I knew Jared had talked to Shannon when we were back in Buffalo, who had in turn informed Matt and Tomo, but I wasn’t expecting questions from them. The concern in his voice rang true and I analyzed it before even thinking of answering. They had met three times, and it had never occurred to me that they would have connected with each other enough for him to be feeling the distress displayed blatantly on his face. The depth of caring I wasn’t certain about, but he obviously was worried.

I looked at Jared before speaking, and he reached over to grab my hand. "She’s as okay as could be expected I guess." I felt like I was talking how the doctors were when we were in the hospital. Informative and detached. "Well, you already know she’s in rehab I guess-" I stopped when Shannon started shaking his head no, looking rather startled. "You didn’t know? Oh. Well, she checked herself in. About two weeks until she can have visitors. But I think she’s going to fine. I know she is. She has strength; it just......went into hibernation for a while."

He didn’t look very reassured, and Matt and Tomo were beginning to look worried as well.

Their lack of optimism was beginning to get degrading, so I excused myself and went upstairs. Jared didn’t want to let go of my hand. His eyes told me he wanted to follow me, to talk to me, but he had called band practice and I wouldn’t let him just leave the guys sitting there. And I didn’t want to talk while they were there, even if they weren’t in the same room.

As I sat on the edge of the bed and took deep breaths to calm myself, I felt everything spinning out of control faster than I could reign it back in. The simple question Shannon had posed had been enough to release everything I had kept caged inside, everything I didn’t know I had within me.

I needed liberation.

On my way to find my notebook in a distant corner of the room, my leg slammed into the arm of a chair as my hip gave out momentarily. "God damn it!" I nearly yelled, controlling my volume at the last second so that Jared wouldn’t hear me from downstairs.

Finally finding my object of exploration, I sat down in the middle of the bedroom floor, the notebook and a black marker set before me. I considered my headphones briefly, but decided in my spinning state that the powers that be would choose a wonderfully destructive song sure to break me completely. Instead, I called upon Maynard’s words in Disgustipated. It was a neutral song that served more to entertain under normal circumstances, serving to ground me under the current circumstances.

I flipped open the notebook and began scribbling in a blind fervor.

"These are the cries of the carrots, Let the rabbits wear glasses," kept repeating over and over in my head. No, I was not going crazy. I did not suddenly belong in a padded room. But I needed the insane words to maintain a productive train of thought, even if it was subconscious.

I dropped my pen to the floor as part of me heard Jared ascending the stairs. Not aware of what I had actually written in whatever amount of time had elapsed, I slammed the cover shut and pushed it under the bed before scrambling up on it and lying down.

There was a soft knock on the door as I situated myself. He clicked the door shut behind him before walking to the bed and kneeling beside it on the side I was laying.

He looked up at me, a question in his eyes, and I nodded my head. He traced the bruise lightly, following the bumps in my muscle that the therapist had pressed so hard against. I chewed on the inside of my lip as the contact sent mild shivers of pain through the area.

"Does that hurt?" he asked.

I shook my head no, lying. But I didn’t know why I did it. I wanted to be strong.

I changed my mind and nodded my head yes when his eyes didn’t move from mine. He knew I wasn’t telling the truth, in denial just a little.

But that was not the question he needed to ask, the one I had said yes to answering.

"What happened down there?" he asked pointedly.

"I don’t know. And I honestly don’t know what happened up here either," I said after a moment.

"What do you mean?"

I paused to study the different expressions on his face before deciding it was safe. I rose from the bed and knelt, extracting my notebook from the dark abyss below. I handed it over and sat down next to him with my back against the mattress.

"This may not make sense, but you’re reading this before me," I said in warning.

He looked puzzled but decided to proceed instead of pursue my comment.

The book fell open to the page that had remained open for so long, a permanent crease in the binding with my scribbles filling the entire space.

I waited, my heart racing. He was taking a long time to read it, perhaps re-reading it, but I couldn’t bring myself to look until the suspense was unbearable. I tentatively peeked over his arm and scanned the words.

Please protest me, I am my own worst enemy.

Please love me, I hate myself.

Please acknowledge me, I am useless in every possible way.

Please keep me in reality, because my dreams are out of my control.

Please do not judge me, for my imagination runs free.

Please guide me, I am blind and confused.

Please understand me, I am alone with my thoughts.

Please protect me, I may self-destruct.

Please rescue me, I am falling fast.

Please help me, I have nowhere left to turn.

Please save me, my rapid decline is overwhelming.

I became more and more uncomfortable the farther I read, wanting to fall through the floorboards by the time I reached the end. I resisted the urge to run and lock myself in the bathroom, the urge to rip the notebook out of his hands and tear the paper to shreds.

He shifted the book and ran his hand nervously through his hair. My eyes followed the familiar red mark on his wrist as it fell back to his knee before repeating the motion, unable to look at his face and afraid of his expression.

After a while, he set the notebook carefully on the ground next to him and stood up. He started pacing in front of me, his eyes darting around the room. Setting me more on edge, I curled as far into a ball as I could get without my arms digging into my thighs, the bruises still rudely irritating.

"Say something," I whispered after more than ten minutes of pacing, half of the volume of my words being absorbed by the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

He froze, and his fingers moved through his hair one last time before dropping limply to his side. He still didn’t say anything.

"I’m sorry?" I offered. It was an inappropriate reaction to the situation, but it forced its way past my lips before I knew it was coming.

"You’re sorry?" Jared blurted out. My eyes darted up to him in time to catch a flare of anger in his eyes.

I shook my head and stared intently at the crack between two floorboards in front of me. I stubbornly refused to look at him, afraid of the anger I had glimpsed before. He took a few steps forward, his rigid form towering over me, still huddled on the ground. "What do you want from me?" I whispered, tears threatening to choke my words.

"I don’t want apologies!" he exploded. Fear overtook my body as the harsh words entered my ears. I began sliding down the length of the bed, closer towards the corner and further from his intimidating figure. I was irrationally hoping that every inch I moved would take me further back in time so I could stop myself from writing what was now upsetting both of us.

This was becoming a vicious cycle. I could see it, but I didn’t know how to change it.

Everything I had felt on the boardwalk the night before disappeared. Poof. And I couldn’t get it back, no matter how hard I tried.

When I reached the corner, I curled myself as tight as I could while still keeping my head up. Jared was now sitting on the bed, his palms rubbing his temples. The longer he remained silent, the more upset I became. Fear and desperation were slowly growing inside of me as I waited for another reaction. I was hoping it wouldn’t be anger again. Anger I didn’t know how to deal with, other than apologizing, and that’s what had set him off before.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter from my sanctuary in the corner. Nothing followed.

"Why are you angry?" I asked tentatively, my voice barely rising above its previous whisper. I didn’t have any idea as to the reason behind his agitation, and I needed to know.

"I’m not," he snapped.

I cringed and closed my eyes, his lie cutting me. "Why are you lying?" I knew I was risking more anger, another outburst, but I was on my way to self-destruction and I didn’t give a fuck anymore.

"Because I feel like you’re lying to me. So why should I do anything different?"

He had successfully confused me. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," I said lowly, automatically going on the defensive.

He picked the notebook up off the floor and held it in his hands. "You told me you would talk to me. You told me. But you didn’t do it. You didn’t come to me when you obviously needed to. Instead, this," he said motioning at the cover, "this happened. You showed me this, and I didn’t know what to think. Because you kept this buried in you somewhere until Shannon opened the door. He gave you a chance to disappear into yourself again, and you took that chance. You took the first chance you got, when you said you wouldn’t." He shook his head, frustrated with the lack of eloquence that usually graced his words.

For a moment, I saw his vulnerability. I saw the extent of his hurt, and even though they weren’t harsh, his words cut me again.

"What am I supposed to say? I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know that I do that when I’m doing it. I don’t find out until after, until you bring it to my attention. How am I supposed to change something that I don’t know I’m doing?" Confusion and distress dripped from my voice as I tried to make him understand.

It wasn’t working.

"Why can’t you talk to me before it gets this far? Why can’t you come to me before you start repressing it, and it ends up coming out like this?" By now, the anger was gone from his voice, leaving only the same confusion and distress that I was feeling. He waved the book around again. "This scares me," he whispered.

I laughed, once again an inappropriate reaction. His eyes snapped to my face, their pure blue clouded with hurt. He truly thought I was laughing at his words. And I wasn’t.

"I’m not laughing at you," I said and quickly stopped my laughs. "I don’t know why I’m laughing…but I’m scared too. I’m freaked like you could not believe. I didn’t know I had that in me. I had no idea those words were buried somewhere deep." I paused, not wanting to speak the words on the tip of my tongue. But in my self-destructive pattern, I did anyway, bracing myself for what they would bring. "Now that it’s out there, I can’t help but feel how right it is. How true it is. That’s what I feel. I don’t know why, but I do. And to me, it doesn’t make any sense. I shouldn’t feel like that, because I have you." He was staring out of the window as I talked, and I wasn’t sure my words were sinking in. I couldn’t tell if he was listening and registering everything I was saying, but I continued anyway. "But I don’t know how much more open I can get. That, in your hand, is everything I feel. That notebook is me, bare and exposed. As far as I can tell, there is nothing else inside me to come out."

"What does that change?" he demanded.

I was slightly surprised by his question. It was one I wasn’t expecting. "It doesn’t change anything. I’m just trying to say…This, right now, this is what happens when I’m open. Can you see why I’m hesitant to do it?"

And there was the flare of anger I had been waiting for before.

"This only happens because you let it get this far!" he barked into the room, his words returning to the cutting nature they had been before.

I buried my face in the sleeve of my sweatshirt, what he said echoing in my mind. The words I had written appeared before my eyes. They were forever burned into my memory, whether I liked it or not.

My voice shaking, I tried to explain. "And I only let it get this far out of fear. Because I am my own worst enemy, because I hate myself, because I am useless, because I am blind and confused, because I am alone in my head, because I am self-destructive, because I am at a dead end, because I am in a rapid decline." Each of my reasons drew another incision within me, another drop of blood. "And because I’m afraid to tell you all of that." He just stared at me in a demand for more. "I’m afraid if you know those things, if you see how weak I am, you’ll see how much of a masochist I am, and you’ll……flee. You’ll leave. It’s what I’ve come to expect, even if I shouldn’t expect it from you."

"You shouldn’t," he said forcefully, maintaining a tone of anger.

"Don’t you think I know that?!" As much as I hated it, I was becoming angry as well. "I don’t want this to be happening any more than you do! This is miserable. I’d rather be…on that boardwalk again. Or sharing a meal, sharing a song, watching a movie, making love. Anything."

He shook his head in finality. "It’s too late for that. And I don’t know how many more times I can do this." He abruptly stood and exited the bedroom, the door slamming behind him.

I waited until his footsteps pounded down the stairs before I fled to the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror, supporting myself on the cool counter. I had been crying, but I didn’t remember at what point or for what reason. I looked like a cliché with black streaks running down my face. I began hating myself even more. I grabbed my eyeliner off of the counter and uncapped it. Reaching out to the mirror, I wrote What A Failure across the reflection of my cheek. I set it back down on the counter without moving my head. My teeth started attacking the corner of my lip, quickly turning it raw. I drew the blood onto my tongue and held it there before swallowing. I needed to feel again, more than the internal cuts caused by our words, and fulfillment came in the tearing of my skin and the taste of the warm liquid.

I didn’t hear him coming. If I had, I would’ve locked the door.

When his reflection appeared behind me, his head above mine, my tongue and teeth withdrew back into my mouth, but I didn’t move my head.

He examined my appearance in the glass and his shoulders sagged as he read the black words. After doing so, he wet a few paper towels and reached around me to wipe the liner off. As he did, I dropped my head. I didn’t want to see the disappearance of what I had come to believe to be true. When he was finished, he turned me around to face him and gripped my head in my hands. He brought my face up so that he could see my eyes. I don’t know what expression I held, but whatever it was, broke him.

"You are not a failure," he said in desperation.

I wanted to believe him. But he had left. He walked away. And in his absence, I had become numb. Numb, and angry. He shouldn’t have walked away.

"Words aren’t enough," I said, not caring if I broke him further.

He pushed his lips hard against mine, trying to convince me to believe him without using words.

I squirmed against his body, forcibly pushing him away. His touch irked me.

"It’s not enough," I repeated.

He stepped aside as I passed, exiting the bathroom.  His slumped form emanated hurt behind me, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn back, to go to him and fix what I had just shattered.

I lowered myself onto the bed with my back to the bathroom door, and to him when he passed through it.  When he did, I listened to his footsteps on the floor.  They stopped somewhere near the middle of the room.  He was debating, torn internally, wondering if he should say something.  If he should come to me, wrap me in his arms, and try to make things better.

Much to both my disappointment and relief, he continued through the door to the hall, closing it softly behind him, and down the stairs.

My bruises cried out to me as I rested on my side, but I ignored them.  Instead, I lay in bed and found myself wondering what he was doing.  What he was thinking.  If he was thinking about me like I was thinking about him.  I didn’t know what I was going to do to make things better this time.  I didn’t have a clue.  The only thing I did know was that I still felt like a failure.  I felt like I had failed him and our relationship.  We had been together for something like six months, and now everything was getting fucked up.

I don’t know how long it was before Jared came back in.  I hadn’t moved, and I still didn’t move after he turned off the light and lowered himself onto the bed next to me.  He didn’t reach out, didn’t pull me to him, didn’t say goodnight or kiss my cheek.  From what I could hear, he just lay on his back, sighed deeply, and remained staring up at the ceiling.

After a while, I finally shifted, only to pull the covers over me as the air began to cool.  The covers were all I had, not Jared’s body heat.  It was sometime around 3:00 when I heard his breathing drop off into sleep, slowing and steadying along with the beating of his heart.

I crawled out from under the covers and slipped silently from the bedroom.  I descended the stairs to the front door and paused, deciding what to do.  I took another Demerol before tying on my sneakers and unlocking the door.  I swung it open and was met with damp and cool night air.  I grabbed my ipod from the table by the door, and stepped out under the stars.  Pulling my hood up, I started down the front walk to the street.  It was deserted, so I walked out into the middle, starting down the street in the direction of a park a few miles away, following the dotted yellow lines painted on the pitch asphalt.

Trusting myself not to trip, I tilted my head up, peeking out at the stars below the edge of my hood.  I was surprised at the lack of light pollution.  They weren’t as brilliant as they had been the night we spent at Dunkirk, but they were enough to remind me of the place I called my true home.

A few lines to a future song or poem ran through my head.  I knew I wouldn’t forget it, so I didn’t bother to save it onto my phone.  Instead, I turned my attention back to the ground before me.  Streetlights cast round, glowing pools at measured distances, but my path down the center of the road kept me out of the illuminating light, keeping me invisible from the world and myself.

A while later, I reached the empty park.  There were fewer lights along the path.  When I reached the middle of the secluded area, I found a bench and lay down on my back, staring up at the sky and the stars.  I pulled my ipod out of the pocket of my sweatshirt, pushed the buds into my ears, and depressed the touchpad.  It immediately sprang to life, blinding my eyes momentarily before settling on a song, the backlight fading to darkness once again.

I sank into the lyrics of the bridge of Fuel’s ‘Won’t Back Down’ with a sigh of relief.

All the scars that never heal
All the wounds that will not seal
I will not forget the day
These memories never fall

They may have been appropriate in a warped and twisted way, but I didn’t let myself examine it.

The music, at least for a little while, filled a sweet sort of ache. An endless stream of comfort and distraction to help me for a while, sealing my entity off from the real world and everything that had transpired in the past hours.

I let the music continue as the night sky lightened to that of dawn, the sun ending someone else’s day and beginning mine.  When the first morning jogger passed me, I turned my ipod off and stowed it back in the pocket.  I took out my phone and checked the time.  It was nearly 6:30.

I sat up and was about to swing my legs to the ground when I saw a familiar figure approaching, a black fedora over his messy morning hair.  He was moving slowly, his sliver crocs directing themselves pointedly towards me. 

Instead of moving my legs down, I pulled them to my chest and wrapped my arms around my shins as I waited for him to arrive at my bench.  He stopped when he was beside me but didn’t turn towards me, remaining facing forward instead.

“Hi.”  Jared said.

“Hi,” I answered slowly. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he said, kicking at a few loose pebbles on the shadowy walkway.

I nodded my head; it was the answer I expected.

He turned to face me.  His hands were shoved in the pockets of his coat, the belt tied tightly around his waist.  He looked smaller than usual, unlike himself.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he offered.

I chewed on my lip, reopening the wound from the bathroom.  “No, you shouldn’t have.  We weren’t done.  But you made us done by walking away.”  I crossed my legs on the hard wood of the bench, blocking out the pain in my hip, concentrating instead on the pain of the man before me, the pain we were sharing.

“I didn’t want to make you feel like a failure.  That’s the last thing I would EVER want to do.”

“I know.  You didn’t make me feel like that.  I make myself feel like that.  Like I said, I’m self-destructive.”  There was still a slight edge to my voice that I couldn’t make go away.  What had hurt me the most out of everything that had happened, was that he had walked away.  He had snapped and left angry.

He took a step forward.  “I want to do all of those things for you.  I want to protect you, guide you, save you, love you, understand you, acknowledge you,” he said, remembering everything he could without the words before him.  “But I don’ t know how to do that if I never know when you need me to.”

“I get that, I really do.  But I’m not sure what to do about it.  I thought writing in a notebook for you to read would work.  Because half the time, I write what I’m feeling before it even registers within me.  But that’s obviously not working, because THIS happened instead.”

He nodded his head, looking down at the ground.  I couldn’t see his eyes under the hat.

“Can you do something for me?” I asked.

“Anything,” he said confidently.

“I just need time.  I need to figure out what to do, what comes next.  I need to BEGIN to understand everything that happened.  Everything you said, everything I said.  I just...need time.  Can you do that?”

It is 3:16 am.  I wrote the majority of this in the past three hours and I'm going on approxiamately 4 hours of sleep.  I can't decide whether I like this chapter or not.  It was a bitch to write.  And sorry if there are typos, I confuse my tenses, or things like 'right' and 'write' or 'there' and 'their.'  But proofreading is not an option.
Anyway, hope you enjoy.  <33

"A pill to make you numb,
A pill to make you dumb,
A pill to make you anybody else,
But all the drugs in this world,
Won't save her from herself."

He lifted himself out of the water, my legs falling from his as he stepped over the edge. I didn’t move, instead my eyes lingered on his body, watching drops of water run down to the floor and drip of off his fingers.
His outstretched hand waited, beckoning me to a world of perfection where bliss was found in another human being.

Who would have known
Who ahhh
Who would have known
A train of pearls
Cabin by cabin
Is shot precisely
Across an ocean
From a mouth
From a
From the mouth
Of a girl like me
To a boy
To a boy
To a boy

A product of writer's block.  Please forgive.

Half an hour later, I was back at the hospital.  Jared was still at my apartment, asleep.  I wrote him a quick note and slipped out early, deciding to walk to Kevin’s for a ride instead of calling a cab.

Both calm and turmoil raged inside of me.  Things were slightly better between Jared and me.  He had come back to me and me to him, letting down a few outer barriers.

When we reached the hospital, we were half an hour early, but the on-call nurses let us sit in the room until she woke up.

When she did, it was all I could do to keep from crying again.  Her voice was scratchy, her eyes only half open.  Her face was pale, the dark circles under her eyes resembling a raccoon’s.  She was in a half-awake, groggy state, and it was hard to witness. 

I didn’t know this Eva.  This wasn’t her, the her we had all known for years.

She wasn’t sure what had happened, still out of it a little bit.  She didn’t remember very much and she avoided all questions about the heroin, like how long she had been using, why, and if she overdosed on purpose.  We didn’t think the answer to the last question was yes, but we wanted to be sure. 

We were all worried out of our skulls, and none of us wanted to leave, but the doctor came in after about an hour and said we had to.  She had to rest, and there was going to be a psych consult.

It was a nightmare, one that I couldn’t wake up from.  Eva looked scared and helpless lying in the hospital bed, an IV coming out of her hand.  What was going to happen next?

- - -

When I returned to the apartment, Jared was lying on the couch, his laptop resting on his legs.  As soon as I entered, he got up and silently moved over to me.  I dropped my keys, the harsh clang as they hit the tile floor jolting my senses.  I turned and gripped the counter, my knuckles turning white from the effort. I closed my eyes in an attempt to keep threatening tears from spilling over the edge.

Jared’s hands landed on my shoulders, steadying, comforting, and ready to catch me if I fell.

I told myself I needed calm, I needed to relax.  I needed to focus on the man behind me.  He could help me.  He always had in the past.  I was slightly weary, wondering if things could go back to the way they were after everything that had happened and we had talked about early that morning.  But I told myself to go on past experience.

I forced my body to turn around, and as soon as his eyes met mine, I threw my arms around him, collapsing as our bodies made contact.  I shuddered once before stopping it, concentrating solely on the man supporting me.

Feeling strong enough to move, I pulled back and we walked through the living room to the bedroom, me allowing Jared to support my body as best he could.

Sheer exhaustion unlike any I had felt before swept over my body.  I was in pain, unable to tell if it was coming from only my hip, only physical, or intensely emotional as well.

I fell onto the bed, wrapping myself in the sheets.  Jared laid down next to me, his head inches from mine on the pillow.

“Laura?” he whispered.

The bed shook as my body reacted violently to his voice, breaking me.  Tears spilled over my lids, easily the fifth time in less than twelve hours.  I moved my hands up to cover my face, every ounce of willpower being used to quell the steady stream of saline.

My form went limp, allowing Jared to pull me across the covers and tightly against him.  I made myself as small as physically possible as he folded me into him, covering me completely.  I was a mouse, Jared my anthill.  Completely vulnerable and insignificant to the outside world, I felt as though I would suffocate at any moment, a passing child kicking the mound and cutting off my air.

I don’t know how long he held me, but the shudders accompanying my tears gradually subsided, all systems of my body numbly shutting down.

Sensing the change, Jared pulled away slightly and tipped my head off of his chest and up to look at him.  His eyes broadcast fright that was trying to be concealed.  He was struggling to maintain composure, my pain hurting him as much as it was hurting me.  But I could tell he was forcing himself to remain as strong as possible, knowing I needed him.

I brief wave of self-loathing passed through me, angry again at my dependence on him and for the way it was ruining him.

But dependence was something I couldn’t control anymore, something I wouldn’t let myself stop.

“Will you talk?” he asked, prodding but only gently, and I was still free to say no.

Instead, I nodded my head and pushed myself up until my head was nearly level with his.

“It was bad.”  My voice was wavering, but I made myself continue.  “I had never seen her like that before, never seen anyone like that before.  She looked like she was on her deathbed or something.”  I began shaking my head in dismay, reliving the hospital experience but wishing I wasn’t.  “She barely said anything.  She was pale...grey almost.  I was terrified, but I couldn’t let her see that.  She looked even more scared than me.  I don’t know what from, whether it was from almost dying or being in the hospital heading for a psych consult or what.  But it was awful, and there was nothing I could do for her except be there, trying to make conversation.”  I stopped, collecting my thoughts again.  Jared’s fingers ran through my hair.  When I looked up at him again, his brow was furrowed, a disturbed look upon his face.

“Was it suicide?” he asked.

“I wish I knew.  I need to know.  I’d like to think not, that that’s not her, but do you ever truly know somebody enough to know that?  When we asked, she didn’t answer.  She didn’t answer many questions about the heroin.  But we’re going back tomorrow, it’s the soonest the doctor said we could, and then they’re releasing her to...wherever.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said.  “I know it doesn’t have anything to do with me, it’s not my fault, but I’m sorry she’s going through this, I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

I sighed, new thoughts entering my brain.  Making the choice to share them, I spoke.  “The worst part is, I feel like I’m having deja vu.”  Not sure how to continue, I stopped.

“Do you mean Dan?” Jared asked, a sense of uncertainty entering his voice.

I was surprised that he had known.  He seemed to possess the same uncanny ability to read each other’s thoughts, especially in times of full emotional exposure.  But now, it was reassuring, and even a bit relieving.

“Yeah.  I don’t understand it though.  I wasn’t there when Dan......I wasn’t there.  I didn’t witness it, and I don’t know what it was like.  I don’t even know for sure that that’s what happened, but all these years, that’s what I’ve thought, what everybody had believed.  And now I feel like it’s happening to Eva.  But she got lucky.  She’s okay, or at least alive.”  He nodded his head, showing his understanding.  “It’s not the same, but it feels the same.”

“I think...” he began, but paused to think.  “In times of crisis, as humans, we need to relate it to something.  We need to know that what we’re going through has happened before and that we’re not alone.  We need a pattern to go from, a prior example, even if the results aren’t exactly...settling,” he said.

Something clicked inside me as Jared’s words registered.  He was absolutely right.  I needed something to lean on, a previous event to reflect on as I dealt with the present.

His eyes were searching mine, and I could tell he was wondering if I had slipped away.  “What are you thinking?”

“You’re unbelievably smart sometimes,” I said.

He smiled.  “Sometimes?”

Appreciating the addition of a tiny bit of humor to the conversation, I punched his arm lightly.  “Sometimes,” I repeated, daring him to pursue it, stubbornly refusing to change my answer just to tease him.

But he didn’t, deciding instead to focus on the present situation.  “Is she going to be okay?  What happens next?”

“You have no idea how much I wish I knew the answer to both of those questions.  I’m going to do everything I have to do to make sure she is okay.  Whatever she asks of me.  Anything.  And I don’t know what happens next.  Rehab?  Therapy?  Just go home?  I don’t have a clue.  But the drug use needs to stop, I know that.”  Dismay and helplessness overwhelmed me again and I sighed, lying against Jared again. I felt like I was talking about my child, but I loved Eva just as much and thinking about her using heroin was enough to tie my stomach in knots.

I flinched as my thoughts began to disturb me more.  Guilt had crept into my consciousness, finally sliding its way to the forefront of my thoughts, pushing away most other emotions in its usual narcissistic, pushy fashion.  I blocked everything out in an attempt to analyze it.

A few moments later, Jared was rubbing my shoulder.  “What just happened?” he asked.

I shook my head, clearing my clouded thoughts and trying to organize them.

“Guilt.  Guilt happened.”

“Guilt?”

“Um, yeah.  I, I don’t know.  This isn’t my fault, I know that.  But a part of me can’t help but wonder if it could’ve been prevented.  I mean, I’ve been gone for...almost 9 months now,” I said, quickly doing the math in my head.  “I’ve only seen my friends three times during those 9 months.  What if I had been here?  What if I had been around, to talk to?  Maybe she would’ve come to me instead of heroin.”

Jared cupped my face in his palms and directed my gaze completely at him.  “Listen to me,” he said.  His voice was driven, full of purpose, and I snapped to attention, my eyes widening.  “Eva had Sarah and Kevin here.  I’m not saying you’re not a good friend, or she doesn’t need you, but she had other people to go to.  Friends to talk to, options.  And there is NO WAY to know if you being here would’ve changed anything.  You can’t live in a world of ‘What if’s’, okay?”  I nodded my head, wanting to understand, wanting to believe.  “How guilt once harbour'd in the conscious breast, Intimidates the brave, degrades the great,” he quoted.  I cocked an eyebrow, impressed again with the expanse of his knowledge and ability to speak perfection in times when I need it the most.  He chewed on his lip for a moment before speaking again.  “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you are not responsible for Eva being in the hospital, or for her heroin use.  And I can’t bear the thought of you feeling guilty about it.  It’s degrading, degenerating.  And I’m worried about that.  You’re already so close to the breaking point, if you’re not already there.”  Here, his voice wavered slightly, and all of the compassion, apprehension, and lust he held within came flying at me.  I could see I was scaring him, but at the same time, he was relieved.  I was talking to him, and it was better then him being scared not knowing what was going on with me.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered.

“Say you believe me.  Say you trust me.  Say you will try to let the guilt go and be there for your friend.”

“I believe you, I trust you, and I will try.  And I love you, I am grateful more than you will ever know, and I am sorry that I scare you like I do.”

He pushed his lips against mine momentarily before saying, “It’s okay.  I’m scared, but I’m happy.  This is all I wanted.  Just for you to TALK to me.  Thank you.”

Needing to be as close as possible to him again, I buried myself against Jared for the second time that morning, seeking reassurance in his hold.  My mind was spinning from the intricate conversation that kept moving back and forth from Eva to me and him. Everything was complicated, connected, but I was still thinking normally, functionally.

Letting exhaustion take over, I closed my eyes and sank as far as possible into the bliss provided by Jared’s presence.

- - -

When I woke, he was no longer encompassing me.  He had disappeared from the room completely.  I wasn’t surprised, just a little disappointed.  After all, he had slept earlier, and I hadn’t for about 36 hours.  I’m sure he was out in the living room or kitchen with his laptop, as I had interrupted him when I came home, so I took the opportunity to get something out that had been running through my head for a while.

I moved to my bag and pulled out my notebook, opening to the page I had written “The lies you tell are better than the truth.”

Across the top of the page, I first added, “I attempt to become an open book for you.”

I paused to think.  A melody I loved slid its way into my thoughts, the words coming close behind.

Along the edge of the paper, I began to write the fitting lyrics.  “I know that my actions are impossible to justify, they seem adequate to fill up my time, and if I could talk to myself like I was someone else, then maybe I could take your advice, and I wouldn't act like such an asshole all the time.”

Things had definitely been repaired between Jared and me, but I still felt some small semblance of guilt for my personal habits that were the root cause of it all.  After the quote he had spoken to me about my guilt over Eva, I figured I needed to do something about it.

Satisfied with the finished product and confident that I had nothing more to say, I closed the book and tucked it under my arm.  When I reached the door, I pulled down on the handle, listening for the click as it released before slowly swinging it open.  I poked my head around the frame, searching the adjacent rooms for Jared’s figure.  He was once again on the couch, this time flipping mindlessly through the channels, his mind clearly somewhere else altogether.

I softly sat down on the arm of the couch above his head and waited for him to come back to the present.  When he did, he blinked a few times and smiled up at me.  Even upside down, I could tell he had still been thinking about everything we had talked about in the last 10 hours, and he knew that I had been as well.  Without saying anything, I handed him the notebook after he sat up.  He opened it and flipped through the pages, not know what exactly he was looking for until he saw “I attempt to become an open book for you.”  His eyebrows crinkled together as his clear blue pools moved from the center lyric to scrutinizing the tiny words I had written underneath, written in a fit of bitter frustration and anguish.  He then read the lyrics around the edge, and I could see the same power Conor Oberst’s words held for me appear evidently in his eyes, no longer clear but clouded with thought.

“Speak,” I said, not demanding, but asking for the same openness of him that he did of me.

He looked back and forth between me and the words I had written.  “You always have the perfect, most fitting things to say,” he said thoughtfully.  “But lies are never better than the truth,” he added in reference to the central quote.

“Matter of opinion,” I said simply.  “It’s situational.”  He disagreed but didn’t push the point.  “But I won’t lie to you,” I hastily added, making sure he didn’t misunderstand my comments.

He smiled and closed the notebook, setting it on the table next to his laptop.

A sense of relief washed over me and I had a new idea.  I walked back into my bedroom and to the closet.  Digging in the back, I pulled out an old, torn up guitar case, a few stray stickers beginning to peel off.  It was my old acoustic, the first guitar I had truly loved, and the guitar that had helped me recognize the deep affinity I had for music and expression.

I carried it back to the living room and was met by a series of curious looks from Jared.  I lifted the guitar out of its case and sat cross-legged in the middle of the open floor, setting it snugly in my lap.

“Will you do this with me?” I asked Jared.

In response, he got up and moved across the room to sit down in front of me.  He looked me straight in the eyes, reading my song choice and nodding his head.

I took a deep breath and began the intro.  Repeating it once, I looked at Jared to make sure.  His face was serious and still, waiting for the experience to fully begin.

I moved on to the first verse, softening my chords as I began to sing.

Jared had only heard me perform the song once, the night we had met in the parking lot.  But he learned quickly and had evidently remembered it from that night.  He immediately began finding harmonies, his voice traveling its full range without screaming, each note fitting perfectly with mine.

There are children standing here,

Arms outstretched into the sky,

Tears drying on their face.
He has been here.

Brothers lie in shallow graves.

Fathers lost without a trace.

A nation blind to their disgrace,

Since he's been here.

And I see no bravery,

No bravery in your eyes anymore.

Only sadness.

Houses burnt beyond repair.

The smell of death is in the air.

A woman weeping in despair says,
He has been here.

Tracer lighting up the sky.

It's another families' turn to die.

A child afraid to even cry out says,

He has been here.

And I see no bravery,

No bravery in your eyes anymore.

Only sadness.

There are children standing here,

Arms outstretched into the sky,

But no one asks the question why,
He has been here.

Old men kneel and accept their fate.

Wives and daughters cut and raped.

A generation drenched in hate.

Yes, he has been here.

And I see no bravery,

No bravery in your eyes anymore.
Only sadness.

The sadness of the song cut through to the bone, but I remained composed, exhilarated by singing with Jared, the man whose voice and talent I had admired for almost a decade.

When I ended, a smile spread across my face that I was unable to contain, and the same on his.

I set the guitar aside and fell against him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“That was...amazing,” I said.  “So much fun.”

“Absolutely,” he said laughing.  “Why didn’t we do that earlier?”

I didn’t know, but for once, I wasn’t negatively emotionally overwhelmed after creating something musically.  And it felt good.

Struck with a fleeting bout of inspiration, I darted for my notebook again.  Opening up to the first blank page I found, I pulled a black marker out of my pocket and quickly scribbled four lines down.

Our broken voices join together,

Filling the air with passion and fire.

Our broken voices join together,

Screaming lost love and forgotten desires.

Inspiration having disappeared again, I reread it before handing it to Jared.

“What do you think?” I asked when he finished reading it.

“It’s perfect,” he said.  “It’s...us.  What is it going to be?”

“A song, a poem, or nothing more than four lines.  It’s both finished and unfinished.  And may very well remain that way.  I don’t know.”  And I truthfully didn’t have a clue.  Many things I wrote remained unfinished, or finished at only a few lines, depending on how you’d like to look at it.

As a writer, I went by the belief that everything was finished unless new inspiration came.  Then things could be changed, and it could be finished again.  Born again.

I had a feeling, by the emotions that had given birth to the four simple lines, that it would come back to life. 

Reincarnation.  And I was looking forward to whatever might bring that inspiration.

As soon as I tried to roll over, I became painfully aware of yesterday morning’s events. Jared wasn’t in bed, but I heard the shower running. I remembered the physical therapy appointment I had in about an hour and slowly pulled myself out of bed. I was already sick of the crutches and it hadn’t even been 24 hours. I ignored them in their position against the nightstand and instead jumped over to the table and chair in the corner where my notebook was sitting. I lowered myself to the chair and opened to a blank page, picking up the black marker next to it. I scrawled "The lies you tell are better than the truth." across the center of the page in the hopes that writing it down would make it leave my mind. If it stayed there, constantly running through my thoughts, it was going to drive me insane.

FUCK! I screamed in my head.

I pulled my notebook out of the bag and opened it. Under the quote I had written in the morning, I wrote as small as I could, "I can’t take back what I said, but I fucking wish I could. And now I am at a loss. I’m sorry I hurt you like I do." Once finished, I held the corner of the page between my fingers, tempted to rip it to pieces. It was in Jared’s notebook, the one he was free to read. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to read it. My self-destructive disposition was taking over once again, but I stopped myself from tearing the paper. I needed to DO something. I needed to fix this but I had no idea how. I slammed my fist into the ground, frustration overtaking. I grabbed the comfortable music player out of my bag and pushed the tiny speakers into my ears. Spinning my finger around the touchpad, I turned the volume all the way up, daring my eardrums to rupture. Goodbye My Lover filtered loudly into my consciousness, the irony of the words hitting me with the force of a train.

Here's facts.  I thought I would take this oppurtunity to tell you a little bit about myself and my life, specifically the parts that I've written into my fanfic.  (Hehe don't I sound all official.  =])  So you can read it, or you can ignore it.  But it's going to be fun for me, so I'm doing it whether people are interested or not.

Oh golly, where to begin.

Well, first there is Dunkirk.  And this is probably the biggest one.  Like I wrote, Dunkirk is a camp I go to for a week every summer.  It is church camp, but I ignore the religion part.  Whenever I'm there, I feel like I'm at home.  The rest of the world disappears.  I don't know, it's hard to explain.  It's beautiful, peaceful, and perfect.
Here are some pics.

This is of Vesper Point.  You can see the benches a bit.  Every night there is a little mini service out there as the sun is setting.  I may not believe in what the cross symbolizes, but I can't help but feel the power it holds for everyone else there.

The rest of these pics are of the nights at the fire.  The absolute best times of the entire week.  As you will see, we do exactly what I described in Ecstasy, and then some.  It's an amazing good time.

First, a few of the fire:

Okay, now this is some of us on benches, all night like I said.  I didn't get pictures of everyone.  =]

That's Ally.  She was tired.

Hehe my sister Liz and Chase.  The like each other.  At least for the week.  It's kinda cool with the ashes in the air...

Ahaha and that's Dave.  Notice the black spot on his shoe.  An explanation is in the future.

Now here is the best part for me.  This is the morning after we stay out the entire night.  It is the morning we leave, which is freaking sad, but it's crazy fun.



Hehe I think that's my Dr. Pepper can in the fire.  It's almost melted...


My sister and I were the only two who stayed up the entire night this year.  Usually it's more, but not this past summer.  A few people, like in the above two pics, moved from the fire to Mother's Memorial to lay down and sleep.  I don't see the floor being much more comfortable than benches, but I guess they thought so.

And here are the fun parts I wrote about.  Remember reading about throwing a bench off of the cliff??  Well, I have pictures.  =D

As you can see, the bench didn't exactly make it to the water.  So...

Andrew (my cousin) and Kevin climbed down after it to push it into the water.  I'm not sure where we found the rope...
Haha that was one of the most memorable events of the evening.
Shortly thereafter, we raided the Dining Hall and stole four cakes.  One was white cake with strawberries, and the other was completely chocolate.  They were delicious, and then we threw the plates over the cliff as well.

Let's see, what else, what else is there...

Hehe I don't have one of his face.  We had some damn good fun with those sparklers.  And that leads me to the explanation of the black mark on Dave's shoe.

We had sparklers, and he tried to burn a hole in his shoe.  I'm pretty sure he succeeded too.

Well that's all for Dunkirk I guess.  I just have to say, it is the best week of the year.  And I begin looking forward to next year the minute we pull out of the campground driveway and head towards home.  We all always say that once a year or just one week isn't long enough...

I guess that's all I have for now.  If you have any questions, feel free to ask!  I hope you enjoyed the pictures.
<33Retro

When I woke up, I was buried beneath the sheets.  The morning light was glowing through them slightly.  I lay still, remembering the events of the previous day, the weight still absent from my chest.  I stretched my arms and hit something above me.  There was disgruntled mumbling before Jared appeared under the covers as well.

“Good morning,” I managed to get out before his lips were pressed against mine for a split second.

“Morning,” he said sleepily, barely enunciating.  I loved his morning voice.

I began scooting up the bed, reaching for air above the sheets.  Before I knew what was happening, a scream escaped my lips, accompanied shortly thereafter by “FUCK!”

Jared quickly batted the sheets down from around both of our heads and bolted upright, a panic-stricken look on his face.

I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped the mattress while my knuckles turned white.  Jared watched the pain twisting my face without saying anything.  When I released my hands and the blood returned, I slowly opened my eyes and gasped.  “Fuck,” I said again.

“What happened?” Jared asked, his voice shaking.  He was scared, I could tell.

“I don’t know.  But it fucking hurts,” I snapped.  “God, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything; just waited for me to explain what exactly was wrong.

“Fuck,” I repeated, not able to find the words to clearly explain how angry I was.  “This is my own fault.  I just had to go for a mother fucking run.  God damn.”

“Your hip?” Jared asked, catching on.

“Yes,” I said.  “Apparently you were right to worry yesterday.”  Afraid to move, the pain still radiating on my left side, I turned my head to look at him.  There was distress and concern evident in his eyes.  I should have known better than to run.  No pain for a few months apparently didn’t mean shit.  The problem, whatever it was, was still there.  And now here I was, unable to move, worrying the hell out of Jared.  Guilt?  Most definitely.

I watched him chew on his lip as he thought about my current predicament.  I lay still and silent, too afraid to move, afraid of the shooting pain that was sure to become more intense the second I did.

“Can you get up?” Jared blurted out, apparently having come to a decision.

“Um, I can try.”  I started to move, grimacing as I sat up and swung my legs off of the bed, resting my toes on the floor.  Immediately he jumped across the bed and was by my side.  He put my arm over his shoulder and wrapped a hand around my waist as we stood, pulling me tightly against his side.  I took a deep breath before trying to step forward in an attempt to let the pain of standing up subside a bit.

“Ready?” he asked.  I nodded my head, still not sure exactly where we were heading.  I was about to trying walking when he stopped me, having changed his mind or thought of something new.  He bent and scooped me up, careful not to squeeze my left side any harder than needed, in the hopes of preventing the intense pain that would be inflicted by walking.

“Where are we going?” I managed to get out between the occasional wince as another round of stabs shot through my hip and thigh.

“The doctor’s,” he said simply, like it was common knowledge.  But when in agony, my ability to know what he is thinking was crippled.

Once he set me in the car, he ran back to lock the door and we headed to what I assumed, correctly, was his doctor.

- - -

Two hours later, we pulled back in the driveway.  I was now fully equipped with crutches, a Demerol prescription, and a referral for physical therapy.  The crutches were fun, at least for now since I had never had them as a kid, but I had a feeling the Demerol would get me into some trouble with Jared.  I knew his feelings about drugs, prescription or otherwise, and I also knew how much pain I was in, and I had a foreboding feeling we may have a few conflicts over it.

I slowly hobbled up the front walk to the door and inside.  I collapsed once I reached the couch, exhausted already from the pain and inability to walk normally.  Jared sat down next to me and I snatched the Demerol bottle out of his hand.  I scanned the label and decided to only take one pill, following the instructions instead of my urge to swallow the bottle.  Jared gave me a worried look as he watched me pop the pill, already concerned about the addictive properties of the drug.  He turned back and studied the referral in his hand.

“What next?” I asked.

“Physical therapy I guess.  Tomorrow maybe?”

“Sounds good,” I said closing my eyes and racking my brain for a new topic. 

I needed a distraction, so I turned to Jared.  “I’m going to play, okay?  You’re welcome to join me.  Or watch, listen, whatever.”  I started to get up, slowly, and immediately he was standing next to me, my crutches in one of his hands and the other grabbing my arm to steady me.  I took the crutches from him and made my way to the music room, listening to his footsteps behind me. 

I moaned softly as I tried to sit on the end of the bench in front of the piano.  Once I was finally seated, I pulled Jared down next to me.  I wasn’t sure why I wanted him right there, but I did.                                         

Following my pre-playing rituals, I rubbed my palms up and down my thighs and closed my eyes, choosing a song before placing my fingers on the keys.

All around me are familiar faces

Worn out places, worn out faces

Bright and early for their daily races

Going nowhere, going nowhere

Their tears are filling up their glasses

No expression, no expression

Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow

No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kinda funny

I find it kinda sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles

It's a very, very mad world mad world

Children waiting for the day they feel good

Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday

Made to feel the way that every child should

Sit and listen, sit and listen

Went to school and I was very nervous

No one knew me, no one knew me

Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson

Look right through me, look right through me

And I find it kinda funny

I find it kinda sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles

It's a very, very mad world

Enlarge your world

Mad world.

Jared knew enough not to say anything; I rarely ever played just one song.  Almost without pause, I began playing the intro to Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk.  It was a Rufus Wainwright song my mom had introduced me to when I was little kid, and ever since I had been in love with it.

When I finished, I let my hands drop to my lap, a signal I was finished with the piano.

“Beautiful,” Jared said softly.  He needn’t say more.

There was only one more thing I wanted to do, so I stood and, ignoring my crutches, hopped over to the closet guitar, a black acoustic.  I glanced at Jared to make sure it was okay, and he nodded as he watched me balance and jump on one leg.  I didn’t let him get up to help me.  Instead, I perched on the nearest stool and began playing.

And there's three, count 'em three
Children playing on the beach
They were eager to learn,
To be taught and to teach
There's Veronica
She's biting her lip
As she watches the waves turn white at the tip
And there's Vada
Radiating with joy
And luckily she still can't stand the sight of a boy
And lastly there's Dave
His hair dances in the wind
And he's wondering what love is
And why it has to end
And he can't understand
How everyone goes on breathing when true love ends
His mother whispers quietly...
Heaven's not a place that you go when you die
It's that moment in life when you actually feel alive
So live for the moment
And take this advice, live by every word
Love is just a hoax so forget anything that you have heard
And live for the moment now
And there's three, count 'em three
Children growing on the beach
They were eager to learn,
To be taught and to teach
There's Veronica
She's licking her lips
As she waits for her real, first passionate kiss
And there's Vada
She can't admit her jealousy
Of her sister Veronica, and how she's so pretty (and how she's so pretty)
And lastly there's Dave
Still sitting on the dock
Ponders his life, and he skips his rocks
And he wonders when his father will return
But he's not coming back
And he can't understand
How everyone goes on breathing when true love ends
His mother whispers quietly...
Heaven's not a place that you go when you die
It's that moment in life when you actually feel alive
So live for the moment
And take this advice, live by every word

Love is just a hoax so forget everything that you have heard
Forget everything
And there's three, count 'em three
Children missing from the beach
They were eager to learn,
To be taught and to teach
But the sad thing
Is that they never lived passed the age of fifteen
Due to neglect from their mother
Who was bed ridden by her ex-lover, their father.
And she didn't even notice, or pay much attention
As the tide came in and swept her three into the ocean
Now all her advice, it seems useless
No, heaven's not a place that you go when you die
It's that moment in life when you touch her and you feel alive
So live for the moment
And take this advice, live by every word
Love's completely real, so forget anything that you have heard
And live for the moment now.

My emotions rose as the song reached the end.  Memories of my mother’s bitterness and regret after my dad left came back to me as the sadness of the song crept in behind.  When I ended, a few tears escaped. 

It was a song I had loved since the first time I had heard it.  It was powerful for me, and it was the perfect example of why I loved music.  The amount of emotion a song could carry, and be powerful enough for that emotion to be instilled in me, was always overwhelming.  And that was why I liked all of the music I did.  Because it made me feel something, and that meant everything to me.
After brushing the tears away, I turned back to face Jared who was still sitting on the piano bench.  He was softly smiling, immediately reading my feelings.  I smiled back before getting up and hopping back to the stand to return the guitar.  I turned and Jared was next to me, crutches in hand.  Realizing that it was almost 2:00 and I had never had breakfast, I wordlessly moved back out to the kitchen and popped a few pieces of cinnamon bread in the toaster.  I grabbed an apple off the counter and leaned against it.

Jared sat on a stool and watched me.  “I wish you would let me help you,” he whined.

I shook my head vehemently.  “I will not be dependent on anyone,” I said, my voice filled with conviction.

He raised an eyebrow, amused at my forceful response.  “You know, it’s not a bad thing to be weak sometimes, to let someone help you.”

I chewed on my lip, forgetting about the apple in my hand.  The conversation had suddenly gotten very personal instead of mildly playful.  I felt like we had been here before, or at least I had been over it time and time again in my mind.  It was something I had learned to do when I was 12.  I couldn’t really depend on my parents for many of the things I needed or wanted, or even if I just needed someone to talk to.  And when you’re 12, your friends can’t help you either.  So I began to depend solely on myself.  For everything.  And now that I didn’t have to do that anymore, I found it hard to break the habit, the way of life I had developed for 8 years.  I had gotten pretty damn good at it too.

The toaster popped behind me and I jumped, disturbed from my thoughts.  I began to turn around to face the toaster, mistakenly putting weight on my left side.  The personal examination of my psyche had made me completely forget about the cause of it.  I crumpled, bent over at the waist, but quickly straightened myself back up before Jared could freak out and get up to help me.  Again, my need to be independent.  I cursed myself under my breath.  I hopped to the stools and sat next to Jared, handing him one of the slices of toasty bread.  He didn’t eat it; he just kept looking at me, waiting to see if I would respond to his comment.

I sighed in defeat, reluctantly deciding to open up to him again, and dropped my toast on the plate in front of me.  “It’s a reflex,” I began.  “It’s an automatic response, coming from somewhere deep in my brain.  It’s like one of those survivalist skills you would learn if you lived out in nature for three months or something.  You do what you need to do to keep yourself afloat in the world.  And depending on myself alone is something I had to do since I was 12, or maybe even earlier.  Distracted parents and an absent older brother will do that to you.  And it’s been years now that I’ve been doing it, so it’s hard to stop.”

“But you know you don’t have to do that with me, right?”

“Yeah, no I definitely know that.  But it’s one of those things that you can’t easily let go of.  It’s like it’s a part of me, of who I am.  My DNA or something.  That’s just the way it has become.  A huge part of me wants to believe that I can depend on you, that you’re going to be there for me.  But there’s a small part, a miniscule part, microscopic even, that can’t help but put on its flashing red warning lights saying ‘You know better than that.  Pull back, pull back!  You will only every have yourself and you know that!’  I can fight that part of me until I’m exhausted, but for now at least, it’s still there.  And I’m sorry, truly.  I wish I could change it, I wish I could make it go away, but I don’t know if I can yet.”

Jared was staring at the counter, absentmindedly picking at the black polish on his nails left over from the tour.  I could read the disappointment and rejection on his face, and immediately I was near tears.  That was not what I was going for; I was just simply trying the truth.

I reached over and turned his face towards mine, waiting until he looked into my eyes.

“I’m sorry.  Oh god, I am so sorry.  Listen to me.  It’s not that I don’t trust you.  I trust you completely, with my life.  And I love you more than I could ever explain or show.  Please tell me you believe me,” I said, my voice reeking of desperation.

His shoulders sagged slightly and he shook his head.  “I believe you,” he said, looking back up at me.  But I wasn’t sure if I completely believed him.  “I just......is there anything I can do?  Some way I can reassure you?” he asked helplessly.

I slowly shook my head as well.  “I don’t think so.  You’re wonderful.  That’s all you need to be, yourself.”

“I love you, you know.  I love you.  And I’m always going to be here for you.  Always,” he said, repeating himself for emphasis.

“I know.  I love you too.”  I drew him into a soft kiss, but he didn’t completely return it.  He was still uneasy, unsure, and I could sense it.  I pulled back and turned to my toast, my appetite gone.  I didn’t know what else to say, and I couldn’t tell if he was simply disappointed, mad, or regretting asking me to move in.

Suddenly the weight that had previously been removed from my shoulders returned, and my gut twisted and untwisted repeatedly.  I was back to wondering what our future was and if my decision to tell the truth had been an enormous mistake.