The chemicals are restless in my head...

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!

 

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?”

 

He was disappointed, I could tell.  He wanted something more.  Something hands-on perhaps.  But I didn’t have anything yet.  I couldn’t give until I was whole again.

 

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked tentatively.

 

I blinked at him a few times as I tried to make up my mind.  “Not yet, I don’t think so.  But I’ll be home soon.”

 

Before he could protest or look rejected again as I chose to remain by myself, I stood and wrapped my arms around him.  It was the only piece of myself I could give for the time being.

 

When he pulled back, he looked into my eyes, capturing my attention.  I slowly backed up and seated myself on the bench again without breaking the connection.

 

“I love you,” he whispered.

 

I smiled softly.  “I love you.”

 

After another few moments, he turned and walked back the way he had come.  I watched his retreating figure as it departed and remembered all of the good times we had spent together.  I remembered the way he had been my buoy when I was drowning in my mother’s death, and then again with Eva’s overdose.  I recalled the numerous nights we had slept in each others arms, his body wrapped protectively around mine.  And I summoned in turn each and every time we had made love, seeing and mildly feeling the sensations accompanying the memories.

 

At the time I needed to be convinced not to give up the most, I remembered again that Jared meant too much to let go.  I couldn’t stand by and watch us tear ourselves apart, or watch me tear us apart.  I had to do something.  And I had to let him in.  Completely.

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

 

The next morning, Jared and I both went with Sarah and Kevin to pick Eva up when she was discharged. She had called me last night, sounding a little more like herself and out of the groggy state she had been in that morning. She told me she wanted to go voluntarily to rehab and asked if we would take her to her house before she went in the afternoon. I promised we would be there, all of us. I was surprised when she told me. Thankful, but surprised. I didn’t know she was so seriously addicted, but I suppose the overdose should have been a clue. I guess you can’t go by what you see on TV or in movies, but she didn’t look addicted to heroin, never strung out or needing a fix. But some people are just good at hiding.

She seemed very tired when we entered her room. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her shoulders slumped in a posture of defeat. I immediately gave her a hug, unable to stop myself. She weakly returned it before standing and forcing a smile. I could tell she was happy we were there, but she wasn’t looking forward to what was coming next.

We went with her to her house and she packed a bag, taking with her the things she loved the most. A few pictures, a portion of her enormous music collection I had always been jealous of, a notebook, some clothes, and other mementos.

We stopped at La Tolteca for lunch, her favorite Mexican restaurant in the area, before driving the half hour to the center. It was an unimpressive building, looking very dull and dreary. I could barely stand the thought that she was going inside it for...I didn’t know how long. I turned to her beside me as we pulled into the driveway.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked tentatively.

She looked out the window before turning her gaze to me. "It doesn’t matter if I want to," she said shaking her head. "I need to, and that’s all that matters. It’s that simple. It has to be." There was desperation in her voice, barely detectable but present.

"Okay," I said. "I just...wanted to make sure."

Jared stayed in the car while we walked with her inside. In a small entryway, the farthest point we were allowed to go unless we were visiting someone or checking in, we said our goodbyes. I knew I needed to keep myself together, for Eva. And I barely pulled it off. I promised her I would visit as soon as she was allowed to have anyone, and that I would call as well. I told her I loved her and I had since we were little, and that I was there, a phone call away, if she needed to talk. After a hug and a kiss, I went back to the car and slid into the backseat beside Jared. We waited silently for Kevin and Sarah to come out. A sense of finality settled over the car as we drove back to my apartment. Jared and I got out, and I promised I would call them later in the afternoon, maybe we would get together, but I mostly just wanted to be alone, to think, to sleep.

Entering the apartment, I moved immediately into my bedroom and through to the bathroom. I closed the door quickly behind me and sat on the edge of the tub. I reached behind me and turned the water on, the steady rush drowning out the street noise outside. I pressed play on my ipod, setting it in its speakers before undressing. I shut off the flow as the tub filled and slipped into the scalding water while Coma White filled the atmosphere. The irony of the words pushing me dangerously close to the breaking point, I slid further under the water and sent a call for help to Jared. I wondered if he could feel it, if he knew I needed him. But here I was again, afraid to ask.

"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."

I squeezed my eyes shut, begging the gods to make the song change, the player shut off, anything. But I couldn’t bring myself to lift myself out of the water and push the next button. I needed to hear the words at the same time they were shattering me.

I needed to prove to myself that I was capable of holding myself together in the face of loss and pain. My superglue may have been running out, but it wasn’t gone yet. I still had the ability to do it myself, and as long as I had that, I was okay. And I didn’t care if I was digressing from my conversation with Jared earlier. I couldn’t become completely dependent. Some things I needed to do myself, and this was one of them.

I held on to that thought as the song ended. A neutral song came next, leaving my mind free to think rationally. I began a new mantra. She will be okay. She is strong enough to overcome this. She will be okay. She is strong enough to overcome this. Three songs later, I had begun to believe myself.

I needed a break, and the knock on the door came at the perfect time. It was Jared, he had gotten my call for help. He waited a few moments before opening the door. I turned my head in the tub to look at him, drawing him down beside me with my eyes. He sat with his knees bent, his forarms crossed on top of them and his head tipped to the side. He was examining me, evaluating my strength and current state of mind. I saw his eyes lighten as he decided I was okay, stable. He moved an arm and gently removed a few damp strands of hair from my forehead. Needing physical contact, I lifted my arms out of the water and pulled him against the side of the tub, burying my head into his shoulder. After recovering from my sudden movement, he returned the embrace, one hand gripping my hair, the other tracing up and down my back until I released him. He didn’t let me sink back into the water, instead holding my face in his hands.

"You’re okay?" he asked.

"I’m as okay as I can be," I answered. And I truly meant it. "There’s nothing I can do for her now except be there when she calls, and visit when I can. The rest she has to do by herself. Of course I’m worried, but I can’t let it consume me or I won’t survive."

Jared’s eyes darkened and I knew I had perhaps said something wrong.

"Your feelings don’t have an on-off switch Laura," he said. "You can’t repress uncomfortable situations and their reactions like that."

That wasn’t what I had meant. At all. "I know! I’ve learned that much from experience. What I meant was, I’m going to worry, I’m going to be sad. But I won’t let it take over. I will still let myself feel, but I know that there is not much else I can do for her until she does something for herself." Nothing changed in his expression, and immediately I knew where his thoughts had gone. "I’m not going to shut myself down, pull away from you. I told you I was going to try not to do that anymore, and I meant it. Every word. I will talk to you when I need to, or when you ask me to." Still nothing. "I’m going to do this for you, like I said. You have to believe that or it’s not going to work."

"Okay, okay," he repeated, slowly leaning his forehead against mine. I squinted, struggling to focus on his features when they were so close to mine. But before I could, my eyes were closing as his lips pushed themselves passionately against mine.

When he pulled back from me, he pulled his shirt over his head, proceeding with his jeans. I slid to the end of the tub as he took off his boxers. He lowered himself into the steaming water, reaching forward to pull me back against him. His knees were poking out of the water on either side of me, and his chin was resting on top of my head. His arms were crossed on my chest, his hands holding mine. The water was just touching my chin, tickling it every once in a while. And it was perfection. Part of my kept saying, It’s only temporary, it won’t last forever. But I didn’t care.

I untangled my fingers from his, disturbing our comfortable embrace, and turned over, the water splashing him in the face as I did so. I started laughing, but he pulled me down on top of him, effectively shutting me up. There was a dull ache in my hip, but the Demerol seemed to be working beautifully and I forgot all about it as he brought my head off of his chest and to his lips, the small act of passion refreshing and energizing.

In times of emotional weakness, like I had been experiencing earlier, I was completely vulnerable, and the weakness must not have been totally gone, because I slowly lost control. Out of touch with the environment, I felt only his lips against mine, skin against skin. My hands slid easily along his chest under the water as his tongue teased its way into my mouth. His fingers were steadily tracing back and forth along my hipbone, my need growing more and more the longer he did it.

In a sudden movement, we had reversed positions. He was grinning down at me from where I had been only seconds before, pleased with his ability to take me by surprise. I let out a low growl in response before he cut off my air supply again, this time more aggressively. The pressure of his body against mine kept me from sliding under the water, and his grip on my hair and a hand once again tracing my hip kept me paralyzed and wanting only one thing.

The familiar tones of Bjork’s voice drove their way into my consciousness, bringing me only as far back to reality as needed to hear the words.

Who would have known
That a boy like him
Would have entered me lightly
Restoring my blisses
Who would have known
That a boy like him
After sharing my core
Would stay going nowhere
Who would have known
A beauty this immense
Who would have known
A saintly trance
Who would have known
Miraculous breath
To inhale a beard
Loaded with courage
Who would have known
That a boy like him
Possessed of magical
Sensitivity
Who would approach a girl like me
Who caresses cradles his head
In her bosom
He slides inside
Half awake, half asleep
We faint back
Into sleephood
When I wake up
The second time
In his arms
Gorgeousness
He's still inside me

As Jared heard the words as well, he broke our connection. There was a playful glint to his eyes, accompanied by a sudden and intense passion, need, and drive.

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

He slowed down as we reached the bed. I tried to pull him against me on top of the sheets, but he resisted, a teasing smile spreading dangerously across his face, his eyes glimmering.

His fingers began tracing the length of my body, picking up tiny water droplets as he went and goosebumps taking the place of his touch as it passed. When he reached my thigh, his hands reversed their direction traveling back up to my face. He ran his forefinger along my lower lip, removing it seconds before he kissed me again. I returned the kiss, a hunger taking over my body as he finally allowed me to move closer to him again, as we had been in the water. His touch turned from soft and tender to uncontrollable hunger, a bear coming out of hibernation and in search of food. And I was happy to comply.

As my lips left his briefly, he pushed himself up on his palms. "Can you do this with your hip?" he asked breathlessly.

"Pain pills, remember?" I said ardently.

"Haha that’s right," he said before coming back down and taking up my lower lip in his teeth. His hand traveled once more over my skin, stopping on my abdomen, feeling the quiver of my stomach as my body called out for connection.

He slowed everything down again, my insides reacting violently to the change of pace. I had a feeling gentle was his goal, because of my hip, but if intensity was, he achieved that as well.

When he moved inside me, like the song had dictated, my vision was lost. I instinctively dug my fingers into whatever piece of him I could grasp. The calm vigor with which we moved in perfect rhythm was overwhelming. My lips found his neck, then his mouth, seeking refuge with his tongue while the feelings of euphoria grew stronger. He slowed even more as he came down, waiting for me to follow, drawing the moment I would peak out to a staggering and indulging length.

Lacking words and the need to speak them, we turned to our sides and I kissed him again before turning over and settling against his warm body. His chest was still heaving slightly against my back while my brain tuned in to the music still broadcasting from the bathroom. A James Blunt song was playing, So Long Jimmy. The tone of his voice never failed to instill a sense of finality within me, maybe with a hint of sadness, no matter what the tone of the song or words were. This time was no different, but I shook it off.

I had just had unparalleled sex, rival to nothing I had ever felt before, and that’s what I wanted to think about. And sex wasn’t even the right word, while lovemaking sounded so cliché. I uselessly debated the correct words, beginning to loathe the English language as Jared’s hand rubbed my side, coming to rest on my ribs as he sank into rest.

- - -

I didn’t sleep. Instead, I got up about half an hour later and called Sarah like I said I would. She was at Kevin’s. She said they had been thinking about going to Soundlab, but it didn’t seem right to do it without Eva, so I told them I would meet them for dinner at Empire Grill. I hadn’t decided if I would wake Jared to go along or if I would leave him be.

But I didn’t have to decide. When I stepped out of the shower, he was lying awake and staring at the ceiling like he so often did.

"Dinner?" I asked him as I pulled clothes out of the closet.

"Yeah. Casual?"

"Definitely," I said as I pulled a shirt over my head and buttoned my jeans. I finished getting ready while he showered and dressed.

Dinner was low-key. We were all both on-edge and relaxed, drained from the past 24 hours, especially Sarah, Kevin, and I. Conversation generally avoided Eva. It was still too raw to discuss deeply.

We said our goodbyes before Jared and I exited the car in front of my apartment. It was going to be at least two weeks until I could even hope to go and visit Eva, so Jared and I were going back to LA. I promised Kevin and Sarah that I would be back as soon as she could have visitors. There was no way I was going to miss it.

- - -

By the next afternoon, we were back in LA. I wasn’t ready to be indoors yet, and I didn’t want to be alone, so when we finished unpacking, I dragged Jared out to my Prius, me driving for once instead of him. He kept asking me where we were going, but I wouldn’t tell him. He would figure it out eventually. We pulled into a small parking lot and I shut off the engine. I grinned at Jared who found it quite obvious now what we were doing. I hopped out of the car, limping only slightly. It was uncharacteristically warm for a day in November, so I shed my sweatshirt and left it in the back seat.

We made our way onto the boardwalk, and all the way to the end. I looked out and focused on the edge of the blue, where Earth met the heavens, burning shades of orange and red with the descent of the setting sun. I leaned against the railing, taking in the colors and the sound of the waves hitting the pylons below us. I concentrated on the details, especially the shaking of the boards beneath our feet with each crash of water against wood. Jared had caged me, his hands resting to either side of my elbows on the sleek wood holding me back from the water.

"I want to jump," I stated.

"No!" he said sharply, his arm instinctively tightening around my waist.
"Please," I whined.

He spun me around and pushed me back into the railing, the hard wood digging into my spine. In mild discomfort, I scowled at him.

"Even if it wasn’t crazy dangerous," he said, "you’re in pain." He moved his hand down to my hip for emphasis.

Of course he was right, but I didn’t want to admit it, so I pressed my lips together defiantly and glared.

As an unfair settlement, I sat down on the edge and hung my legs over. The shaking of the structure became more apparent as I wasn’t feeling it through the soles of my shoes anymore and instead through my jeans.

I fought against the urge to sing as I focused again on the sunset. I chose to let a symphony fill my head instead of a single melody wavering in the air.

Jared sat down behind me and pulled me up onto his lap. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist again to keep me from falling forward, and placed a soft kiss on my neck. I leaned back against him and a vertical support beam to better watch the sun complete its descent, continuing on its way to wake others. Their dawn, and our dusk.

As the day drew to a close on us, totality emanated from both of us. It was New Year’s, in November. We had gotten through what could have been our demise in Buffalo. It may have been a cliché, but we were now stronger for it, and there was an air of promise surrounding us.

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.

The majority of this was written between the hours of 11:00 pm and 3:00 am the past two nights/mornings.  So there may be some errors the spellcheck didn't catch or something.  Heheh sorry.

I woke up the next morning and my stomach was still in knots. I had slept fitfully, and the line of a song kept running through my head, having woven itself into many of my uncomfortable dreams.

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.

I heard the water in the bathroom shut off, so I closed the book. I was unable to shake the anxious feeling, wondering how Jared was going to be this morning. After yesterday afternoon, I was afraid to face him. I knew I shouldn’t have been, but I was nonetheless. I wasn’t sure if he would still be partially withdrawn and still unsure, and I wasn’t sure that I really wanted to find out.

I had just taken a Demerol when Jared exited the bathroom.
"Good morning," he said, sounding like his usual self. I relaxed, but only slightly.

I returned the greeting and kissed him as I passed on my crutches on the way to the bathroom. His eyes followed me, concerned. Things seemed normal, but for me, they weren’t. But I decided to ignore it all until after the physical therapy. Something told me I wasn’t going to have a lot of extra room in my brain to be thinking about it.

- - -

It turns out I was right. Physical therapy was nothing like I would’ve imagined. It was so much worse. I was incredibly thankful Jared was there.

After he examined me, Mark, the physical therapist, said that I not only had a hip problem, but a back problem as well, even though my back didn’t hurt. I had a protruding disc in my lower back; the fluid in the disk wasn’t in the center any more. Instead it was coming through cracks in it and putting pressure on my nerves that connected to my hips. And then my Ilial Tibial Bands on both of my thighs were extremely tight, the left side was just a lot worse than the right. He said it was common in female runners and the muscles in my lower back and butt were weak, because running doesn’t necessarily strengthen them. He said I was hyperflexible as well, so my ligaments didn’t hold things in place very well.

Overwhelmed with the diagnosis and understanding that there were multiple things wrong with me, Jared began asking questions like a concerned parent. I wasn’t completely listening until Mark told me to turn onto my stomach, and he laid a heavy heating pad on my back. He explained it was going to loosen and relax my muscles, and then he would work on me. The first thing I thought was "Massage." But I should’ve known better than that.

When he came back 10 minutes later, he pushed my shirt up slightly and took a little wooden tool to my back.

"This might hurt," he warned before pushing the wood into the muscles.

Well, ‘might’ was an understatement. A vast understatement.

FUCK! I screamed in my head.

"You need to relax. It will hurt more if you’re tense," Mark said.

Easier said than done you little fucker.

I clenched my fists under the table I was lying on and squeezed my eyes shut. Time passed slower than I had ever experienced. He was only at my back for two minutes, but it seemed like two million years. Not just two years, two million years.

Then he told me to turn over and took the same wooden tool to the IT bands on the side of my thighs. Fuck, that was even worse. I squeezed my eyes shut again and my back arched off the table. Jared reached over and grabbed my hand, giving me something to relieve the pressure on. I took my lower lip in my teeth and bit down as hard as I could. The warmth of blood touched my tongue, but I didn’t let up until the wood was removed from my skin. My back returned to the table and my eyes slowly opened.

"Are you alright?" There were two voices, but only Jared’s eyes peering into my face.

"Um, yeah," I said. And I started laughing. Well, more like giggling.

A confused look passed through Jared’s face.

"I’m sorry," I said, unable to contain myself. "I don’t know why I’m laughing….weird…"

Mark gave me exercises to do at home before sending us off. He said I should be able to lose the crutches within the week and that I shouldn’t be surprised if there are bruises.

I just nodded my head and hobbled out of the office, leaving Jared to set up future appointments.

On my way to the car, I started swearing out loud, the pain now worse than it was before. But it had only been three hours since the last Demerol. If I took another, I was sure to get the third degree from Jared, who had the pills in his pocket.

When he slid into the driver’s seat, his face was hard to read. It was a cross between pain, concern, and amusement. I chose to address the amusement. It was easier.

"Why are you smiling?" I demanded. "Is there something fun about me in pain?"

His eyebrows arched slowly as he backed the car out of the parking space. "Not at all."

"Then why the hell are you smiling?" I asked again, teasing him.

"Just curious why you were giggling back there."

"Oh. Good question."

"You don’t know why?"

"No…not exactly. I dunno, it’s weird. It’s like physical pain makes me giddy. It doesn’t make me cry, it just makes me laugh and smile. A bit happy as well maybe."

"Well that’s not twisted at all," he said. I couldn’t tell whether he was making fun of me or whether it was worry in his voice.

"Maybe a little. It’s uncontrollable though. I can handle any physical pain you throw at me, and chances are, I won’t shed a tear. If it’s emotional stress and pain, well that’s a different story. I’m powerless against the tears if that’s the case."

It was definitely apprehension in his voice now. "You know that’s not normal right? You know it’s not healthy?"

"Believe me, I know. But I don’t know how to control it. Or at least control the emotional part. Things like that just get to me easily. Easier than I’m comfortable with." And I’m not exactly comfortable with this conversation, I added in my head.

"Okay," he said. I hoped he was letting it go; even temporarily would’ve been good. No, by now I should’ve known better. "But you never talk."

"What?" I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that. I wasn’t offended, just curious.

He paused before answering, choosing his words and analyzing the potential reaction each word carried. "About the emotional stuff. You almost never talk to me about it. You write it down sometimes, and now and then you even let me read it, but you rarely want to talk about it afterwards." He paused again, but I didn’t say anything. I knew he wasn’t finished. "Obviously just letting me read everything doesn’t make it better for you. I can hear it in your music and in the words to the songs you choose. There’s pain that you never let go. You hold a little piece of everything painful inside, never letting it go. It’s like you think you need the pain to be who you are, to be real or something."
I started freaking out internally while maintaining a blank exterior. It was eerie how dead-on he was, how well he knew me. And I didn’t know it until now.

"I just feel so fucking helpless sometimes," he said in a sudden burst of anger. I jumped, and he apologized, softening his tone again. "I never know what to do. I don’t want to force you into talking, because if you don’t want to, you end up pulling further away from me. I can feel it when you do, like you did yesterday." There it was. The events I had successfully pushed to the back of my brain for three hours. I knew it wouldn’t stay buried for long. But he didn’t give me a chance to respond before continuing. "And you’re doing it right now. Do you even realize it?" I slowly shook my head, the first acknowledgement I had given of his words. "I know you don’t deal well with discomfort, but you’re not alone. It’s okay to talk. It’s okay to let people help you."

At last he seemed at a loss for words. He fell silent, chewing on his lip, his eyes darting back and forth between the road and me. I stared at my folded hands in my lap, refusing to return his looks for reasons I didn’t know. His speech was on repeat and running through my brain at lightning speed over and over again. I couldn’t decide whether I was hurt by his words, touched by his compassion, or just all around freaked. I regretted what I had said in answer to his original question. I wanted to take back the emotional pain part. But words, once spoken, are permanent. And so is their damage. What I had said wasn’t supposed to turn into an analysis of me, of my psyche and personal habits, no matter how contrived they may be. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did anyway.

I sighed before opening my mouth, weighing my words as he had done his. "I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m sorry? I don’t know. I just……don’t know." It wasn’t the most eloquent string of words I had ever put together, but it was the best I could do between concentrating on what he had said, and trying not to focus on the daggers still radiating through my hip and thigh. "I truly am sorry," I said calming myself. "I want to be able to talk to you. I want to believe that it’s okay to let you help me, to depend on you for some things. I can’t even describe how much I want to. But I don’t work that way. I’m not that simple. I can become something different just because I want to. I wish I could do this for you, I wish I could change. But I don’t know if I can, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take if it’s possible at all." I choked the last word out before my head sank into my hands. I was exhausted, and I wasn’t sure how many more times I could go over it with him. It was the second time in less than 24 hours, and I couldn’t ease his mind or his pain; I couldn’t make him understand. Something told me the third time wouldn’t be the charm either. I began shaking as tears escaped, the motion of my body making my hip throb even more. "Fuck," I muttered to myself. I wanted to believe that love was stronger than turmoil. I wanted to believe that he could accept my response. I wanted, needed to believe that we were going to be okay. But I was as unsure as humanly possible. I was insecure and scared, and Jared couldn’t comfort me. Because he was emotionally absent. I could feel it. And it pushed me even further over the edge. Was I losing him?

When we got back to the house, Jared gave me another Demerol. I felt like a little kid, like I couldn’t be trusted to take my own pills. It was a bit condescending, but he was probably right to do it.

I made my way upstairs, slung my messenger bag over my shoulder, and traveled back downstairs, locking myself in the music room. I didn’t have any intention of playing music, but the room was powerful and peaceful, a safe haven. It was a way of being close to Jared. The room was his, filled with the emotion he had poured out into it numerous times when playing his guitars. It suddenly struck me that the tables had turned. I knew then how Jared felt when I pulled back into myself. He had detached himself from me, whether it was a conscious action or not, and now I knew what it was like. It was awful, I hated it. My inability to communicate and express emotions in spoken words had now driven us apart. We were broken, I was broken, and my glue was gone.

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.

Did I disappoint you or let you down?
Should I be feeling guilty or let the judges frown?
'Cause I saw the end before we'd begun,
Yes I saw you were blinded and I knew I had won.
So I took what's mine by eternal right.
Took your soul out into the night.
It may be over but it won't stop there,
I am here for you if you'd only care.
You touched my heart you touched my soul.
You changed my life and all my goals.
And love is blind and that I knew when,
My heart was blinded by you.
I've kissed your lips and held your head.
Shared your dreams and shared your bed.
I know you well, I know your smell.
I've been addicted to you.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
I am a dreamer but when I wake,
You can't break my spirit - it's my dreams you take.
And as you move on, remember me,
Remember us and all we used to be
I've seen you cry, I've seen you smile.
I've watched you sleeping for a while.
I'd be the father of your child.
I'd spend a lifetime with you.
I know your fears and you know mine.
We've had our doubts but now we're fine,
And I love you, I swear that's true.
I cannot live without you.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
And I still hold your hand in mine.
In mine when I'm asleep.
And I will bear my soul in time,
When I'm kneeling at your feet.
Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
I'm so hollow, baby, I'm so hollow.
I'm so, I'm so, I'm so hollow.

It couldn’t have been more fitting.

A sick feeling taking over the pit of my stomach, I dug my toes into the carpet and pushed myself backward until my spine hit the wall beside the door. I shuddered briefly before bringing my knees to my chest and leaning back against the steady drywall.

I closed my eyes and left my body. I wasn’t cognizant of where I was anymore. I knew only the cutting force of the music, mentally nursing the wounds each song left behind. James Blunt’s words changed to that of The Who’s Behind Blue Eyes. As the melody and accompanying lyrics settled in my consciousness, I couldn’t differentiate between whom the song applied to - Jared or me. Either way, it wasn’t good.

The songs continued changing, my psyche following suit until I didn’t know what to think anymore. More confused than I had been before I had turned the music on, I opened my eyes and pulled my laptop to me. I began typing frantically, completing a page-long document that I copied and pasted into my blog before closing the computer and falling onto my back against the wall again.

Needing a change of pace, I pushed the next button on my ipod until the shuffle function took me to a Street Drum Corps song, the insanely complicated rhythms lifting my spirits the tiniest bit as I shut my brain off, giving myself a temporary break.

The song finished and A Modern Myth remix was beginning to enter my ears, sure to end the reprieve I had had, but the wall behind me began shaking. Only slightly at first, but then more violently. Alarmed, I fell back into my body, sat up, and pulled the headphones out of my ears. When they stopped ringing from the sudden silence, I crawled to the door, unlocked it, and swung it open. Met with Jared’s knees, I moved my eyes and neck up until they registered his face. He had my Sidekick in one hand, the other running nervously through his hair.

"What?" I asked, cringing at my tone which was harsh and biting, still bitter and confused from earlier.

He knelt and held the phone out to me before speaking. "It’s Sarah. She kept calling and calling, so I answered. She’s…not good. Something’s wrong, I don’t know what. I thought you needed to talk to her."

I gulped, remembering the last time Sarah had called upset. Slowly I reached for the phone and held it to my ear. There was heavy breathing on the other end. "Sarah?" I asked tentatively.

Immediate sobs transferred over the phone.

"Sarah! What is it?"

"I don’t know what happened," she choked out. "We were just there, in the basement. She came back in and was dancing. And then she was shaking. And she passed out. Now they won’t tell me anything."

"She? Who’s she? And who is they? Where are you?" My eyes darted to Jared in panic as my mouth fired out the questions. He rocked back on his heels, listening intently to my half of the conversation.

"Eva. It’s Eva. We’re at the hospital. The doctors…they haven’t come out yet. Nobody will say anything!" Frustration mixed with desperation in her voice. "I don’t know what to do," she said, and I could hear the tears escaping her eyes again.

I tried to remain calm. "Is Kevin there?"

"Yeah, yeah he’s here. Right here. It was just us when it happened. We were…we were at Eva’s. The basement. We were talking about how we wished you were here and Eva and I were dancing to……to some techno shit Kevin brought. And then, I don’t know. She was down, out. I screamed. I don’t know."

"Okay. Okay, I’m coming. As soon as I can get there, I’ll be there. If you can see her, tell her I’m coming. Okay?" My voice remained even despite the panic running through my veins.

"Yeah. Okay. See you soon."

I hung up and immediately stood. The hip pain had subsided enough for me to limp without crutches, so I pushed past Jared and headed for the stairs. He followed closely behind me.

"What is it? What happened?"

"I don’t know for sure. Something with Eva. She’s in the hospital. She was shaking and passed out. Sarah and Kevin are there, they don’t know anything yet."

"Oh my god," he said softly. "What are you going to do?"

"I’m going to Buffalo," I said. "I have to. I can’t just stay here. I have to be there." I stopped packing a suitcase and turned to him, waiting for his reaction. I still couldn’t read him like I usually was able to, but I took a guess as to his thoughts. "I’ll only be two or three days I think. With the Demerol, I’ll be okay." He shook his head, but I didn’t know whether my comments were off base or if he was just clearing his head. The idea that he thought I was using Eva as an excuse to remove myself further from him popped into my head. Horrified and not wanting to believe he would think something like that, I pushed the thought away and turned back to the suitcase. Satisfied with its contents, I zipped it closed. Jared carried it downstairs, and I emptied the contents of my messenger bag into it before turning to look at him again.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked half-heartedly.

I shook my head. "No, it’s alright. I won’t be gone long. I just…I need to see her."

"Okay," he said, not willing to press the point.

He may have been not completely emotionally with me, but he guided me out to the car in our usual and comfortable loving way. When he dropped me at the airport, he handed me some money and gave me a quick kiss.

"I’ll call you when I land, okay?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "And let me know how Eva is."

"Will do. I’ll see you soon."

My lips were speaking and wanting to believe something completely different than what my brain and heart were screaming. I kept thinking, This is it. I fucked it up, and now this is it. Maybe I won’t see him again. Maybe I’m too fucked up and he can’t deal with it. Am I coming back here? Will I see him again?

I knew it was somewhat absurd, but I couldn’t stop the thought processes. Things weren’t right between us, yet here I was, leaving.

- - -

When I landed, I tried to call Jared, but it went straight to voicemail. I was slightly disappointed, but partially relieved as well. Along with confused and angry. He had asked me call, but didn’t bother to answer when I did.

I took a cab to the hospital, dragging my suitcase with me. I took another Demerol as I rode the elevator to the ICU. When the doors opened, Sarah jumped out at me, waiting since I had called her from the taxi. She wrapped her arms around me, beginning to cry again. I hugged her back and looked questioningly at Kevin over her shoulder. He was sitting in a chair along the wall, his head resting in his hands, stress clearly evident on his face. Tears began to well up in my own eyes as the full reality of our 19-year-old friend being in the hospital fully hit me. One look at Sarah told me that they still didn’t know what was up, and it had been 8 hours, now 4:00 in the morning in Buffalo’s time zone, only 1:00 in the time I had become accustomed to. The more time that went by, the worse we imagined it in our minds. Nobody had said anything to us. It was either because we weren’t family or they were still working on her, whatever that meant.

Two hours after I arrived, somebody finally came to talk to us. She had overdosed, they said. On what? On heroin. Heroin? Yes, heroin.

All three of us were speechless. Eva? Heroin? Why didn’t we know? Guilt fell over us, covering us in a thick blanket. My head in a fog, I tried to process it. She had OD’d. On heroin. The same two sentences repeating themselves over and over again.

The doctor said we wouldn’t be able to see her until 10:00 that morning when they moved her out of ICU. So we all departed the hospital, promising to be by 9:00, in three hours. Sarah dropped me off in front of my building, and I slowly limped up the walk and in the door. When I reached the landing before the last flight of steps to my door, I looked up and saw Jared sitting on the top stair, a small duffel bag next to him. I froze, not sure how to react and still in shock from the news at the hospital. Happiness conflicted with tension as I reached over him to unlock the door. He rose and wrapped an arm around me as we entered the apartment. Familiarity washed over me as I stepped into the place I knew as home. Whether that would change was still up for debate in my mind.

We walked to the couch and I sat down facing him, deciding against taking another Demerol despite the throbbing in my left hip. "Hi," I said softly.

"Hello," he said, and leaned forward quickly for a brief kiss. "How is she? What happened?"

I shook my head and started wringing my hands, occasionally spinning the ring on my finger. "She OD’d."

"She what?" Jared asked in disbelief.

"I know. It’s…surreal. Heroin."

"Wow," was his response.

We’re going back to see her in a couple hours," I said.

He nodded his head and placed a firm hand on my knee in a sign of comfort.

I lovingly pushed the thought of Eva from my mind, knowing nothing could be done until 9:00. And right now, there was tension between me and the man I loved. And I had just over two and a half hours to do something about it.

"Why did you come here?" I asked, trying not to sound demanding or offensive.

He looked into my eyes and I watched as he thought about his words before answering, like he so often did. "I watched you walk into the airport and an awful feeling seized my entire body. Like I was watching my future walk away from me and I wasn’t doing shit about it."

I was taken aback, but instead of keeping my thoughts to myself, I spoke aloud. "But I thought you were mad. I thought you were…punishing me or something."

"Punishing you?" he asked alarmed.

"Yeah." I looked down, breaking our gaze. "I hurt you and you pulled away. You weren’t with me anymore, I could feel it. I still can…" I said trailing off.

I slowly rubbed my temples, wondering what was coming next.

"I’m sorry," he said slowly. "But so are you. I understand that that’s who you are. And I would never, EVER, demand that you change yourself just for me. If I have to learn to not expect you to depend on me or let me help you, then that’s what I’ll do. Because not having you is not an option, and I realized that completely when I was on my way here."

"Okay first, don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. And thank you for not demanding I change, but in turn, you’re going to make yourself change to suit me? That doesn’t make any sense, and if you do that, I’m going to feel really fucking guilty. This is all mostly on me, okay? You’re always open with me; the least I could do is to do the same. So I’m going to try. And not because you demanded it of me, because you didn’t. But because I feel like I owe it to you, which may not be that much better of a reason, I’m not sure. But you have changed my life, for the better, even if I don’t show it. And I don’t regret anything that has happened. Even…this."

His eyes shot back up at me, bewildered, thinking that this was nothing but painful.

"I’m not…good," I said, not knowing how else to explain it. "I have bad habits, bad ways of coping, that are unfair to the people around me. And if I don’t do something about it now, I will not only lose you, but I’ll lose my sanity, and possibly other people that mean a lot to me."

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, coming up with nothing more to say without Jared saying anything.

"Okay. No apologies, but I need to know. Are you sure? You don’t have to try to change. I love you for you, the you underneath all of your defense mechanisms. And either way, I will still love you."

"I think I’m sure. I don’t know, I just really feel like it’s time I DO something. Time I change."

"Okay then," he said.

I placed my hands on either side of his face and looked deep into his eyes. "And I love you too." For a short moment, I saw into him. As cliché as it may sound, I truly did. I saw and felt the depth of his feelings for me; all of the concern, passion, and love he harbored. I smiled and ran my hands down his neck to his shoulders, and down his arms to his wrists. My hand landed on the leather wristband I had given him the night he had given me the notebook. I looked at it, watching the light dance on the metal surface of the characters as his wrist shifted in my grasp. His arm pulled back a tiny bit, drawing my gaze up to meet his. He freed his right hand and brought it to my cheek before ducking under my chin and pulling my lips to his.

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...

What else...

I don't know really.  That's the biggest one, and the one I have pics of.  A lot, or most of the stuff about me, like my personality and stuff in the story, is true.  Or at least it's how I see myself.  Even if it may be a little...unhealthy or something sometimes.

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.

...for how long it's taking me to get another chapter out.  Maybe it hasn't been all that long, but it feels like it to me.  Fucking writer's block though.  It's a bitch.

Enough of that.

 

I am happy, so I have to share.  =]  Just can't contain it.  But it's probably nothing along the lines of what you're thinking right now.

I'm going to physical therapy every Monday and Thursday for a hip problem (like the one in my story), and my mom came to pick me up today.  She was early, so she sat and watched him work on my Ilial Tibial Bands (run down the length of the outer thighs), which hurts like you would not believe.  I've had permanent bruises on my thighs since I first started going over a month ago.  Yeah, it's wonderful.

Anyway, today my mom was there watching.  She said she could tell I was in pain because first I was breathing very deeply, then I was breathing quickly, and then my face turned red and my back arched off the table.  It may sound comical, and maybe it is if you're a spectator, but not from my point of view.  The physical therapist told her he was pushing down to the bone, and then he asked me to push back against him.  Fuck.

When we got home and my dad came to pick me up, she told him (in my presence), that he has an "extremely strong daughter.  I can't fathom the amount of pain she was in, and she did it without crying."

I think that is the most amazing, respectful, and just plain nice thing my mother has ever said to me.  And now I am in a completely good mood.  Nothing can bring me down, not even Chemistry...which I really should get started on.  Part of me wishes it didn't make me feel so good, sort of like I need her to say something like that in order for me to feel good, but it's not always like that I guess.

Truthfully, I can handle any physical pain you throw my way, short of getting run over by a train or shattered to pieces by a semi, and I can do it without crying.  Not a single tear.  It's the emotions where I start to run into a bit of trouble.

So as usual, you can completely ignore this if you wish.  Just had to get it out there.

I don't like Valentine's Day.  And, sorry to be rude, but I don't really care if you think that's ridiculous.
It's a holiday that Hallmark capitalizes on.  Bigtime.

 

Pay attention folks.  Friends with benefits, will NEVER actually work.
So save yourself a lot of pain and don't try it.
Kaythanx.

The rest of the tour passed in a blur. Everything moved too fast for comfort, but it was a feeling I had learned to get used to. Each night was different, each show a new experience, and each night spent with Jared after the show, talking or not, was another moment of bliss.

We got back to LA on a Saturday afternoon and we were all exhausted. Jared and I were the first dropped off of the bus. After greeting the dogs, we dropped our stuff by the door and crawled upstairs to sleep. After collapsing on the bed, still fully dressed and not even under the covers, I couldn’t sleep. I heard Jared’s breath even out and I knew he was passed out for a while. But I couldn’t shut my mind off. I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling, my thoughts racing through my head faster than the speed of light.

The tour is over.

Now what?

Where do I go?

Do I stay here?

Do I go home?

What do I do?

I don’t want to go home.

I love him.

He hasn’t said anything...

I don’t know what to do.

I have to relax.

Maybe this is it.
Maybe it’s over.

Maybe I’m going to go back to Buffalo.

I don’t want to.

I want to stay here.

I need him.

I need to be here with him.

We need to be together.

But our ages.

Would it really work?

Shut up Laura.

It can work.

Anything can work.

I don’t want to go home.

This is my home.

I think.

I hope.

I love him.

What happens now?

Calm the fuck down.

I don’t remember how long I lay like that, cycling between freaking out and calming down, only to freak out again. It had gotten darker outside when Jared stirred beside me. I tore my gaze away from the ceiling and turned to my side to watch him. He wasn’t waking up, but he was moving around a bit, his brow furrowed. I smiled and wondered what was images were playing behind his closed eyes. I reached out and ran a finger lightly along his forehead and eyebrows. He responded to my touch and his face relaxed, but he didn’t wake, instead softly murmuring to himself before heaving a huge sigh and falling still. I brushed the hair off of his forehead and traced his protruding cheekbone. My momentarily distracted thoughts began to race again, but before they could gain any momentum, Jared rolled onto his side and threw an arm across my chest. I coughed and sputtered, quickly trying to shut myself up before I woke him. It wasn’t long before I settled into the comfort of our connection and succeeded in shutting down my mind. I still didn’t sleep, but I thought calm and rational thoughts that moved through my head at a semi-normal speed.

What seemed like an eternity later, Jared’s stomach loudly growled and he blinked open his eyes, looking directly into mine.

I laughed softly, careful not to assault his ears this soon after waking. "Need food? Your stomach seems to think so."

He stuck his tongue out at me in a bout of childishness, something that had been slightly missing during the stress of the final week of the tour. I knew he loved touring, but it seemed to stress him a bit more than he showed sometimes, especially near the end. And I could see him beginning to relax already since we had gotten home just a few hours earlier.

He yawned and stretched, turning onto his back. My stomach joined his in its cry for food, so I got out of bed and dragged him downstairs, wondering if there was any food in the house.

I whipped open the fridge to find a bag of frozen vegetables and not much else except ice.

"Can we order?" I asked him. I didn’t get a response so I looked behind me to the stools. He was propped against one, his head on his arm on top of the counter. He blinked at me a few times, still half asleep, before pointing to a drawer in front of me. I pulled it open and came face to face with about fifteen different menus. "Which one?" I asked without turning around.

He mumbled "Green," so I pulled out the only green menu in the drawer. Pizza and subs.

"What do you prefer?"

"Anything," was my slightly slurred response.

I debated ordering something gross just to spite him, but then I would be out of luck as well, so I ordered a medium white pizza.

Jared was almost fully awake when the pizza got there half an hour later. He stumbled to the door and managed to pay before I forced a glass of ice cold water down his throat in the hopes of waking him up. I knew it was cruel, but I was wide awake and I had missed being alone with him, and he wasn’t complaining all that much.

I put Trainspotting into the DVD player and we lay on the couch to watch the movie. It had gotten dark outside and exhaustion was beginning to befall me. When I finished my pizza, I curled against the man lying behind me and snuggled into his warmth, enjoying the simplicity of our time spent together. My eyelids grew heavy and I lost focus on the television and I tried to force them to stay open. My hard work was futile though, and I quickly fell asleep with Jared’s arms draped around me and his head on top of mine.

- - -

I woke up early and we were still on the couch, the morning light just beginning to fill the room. I wasn’t completely rested, but I decided to get up anyway. I slipped out of Jared’s embrace without disturbing him and stood staring outside, contemplating. It had been months since my hip had bothered me and I was dying to run, so I decided to risk it and went upstairs to change.

I pulled on a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt before tying on my sneakers. I grabbed my iPod and stuck the buds into my ears before slipping back downstairs and out the front door. I stood on the front step for a few moments and took a deep breath, anticipating what was coming next.

As I started to jog, I felt an old and familiar rhythm return to me, and exhilaration filled every inch of my body. Remember the Name, a song by Fort Minor, filtered into my ears, and I quickened my pace to match the tempo. As I reached a hill, I could feel my lungs burning, my breath becoming ragged, and I started sprinting up the slope. I was in love with the feeling of physical pain, the feeling that my lungs were on fire and would explode, that my muscles were lacking oxygen. As I reached the top, I slowed my pace slightly to a fast jog, once again matching the tempo of the music in my ears, only this time it was Checkmarks. My calves relaxed a bit, thankful for the tiny bit more oxygen they were receiving, and I focused on my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth, in time with my footsteps on the pavement below me. I shifted focus to my feet, concentrating on slamming into the pavement before springing up again, only to pound down again, for a split second becoming one with the asphalt. I subconsciously followed the painted white line on the side of the road. The neighborhood was still asleep, the sun barely peeking over the tops of the trees in the distance. There were no signs of life, save for the birds waking from their nests and the bats returning to their caves. I had gotten past the point of pain, past the point of exhaustion, and I felt as though I could run for hours. But I knew if that happened, there would be immense pain later, so I turned around, traveling back the way I came. I evened my pace as I descended the hill and slowed to a walk as I followed the white line back to Jared’s driveway. I walked back and forth in front of the house taking deep breaths, returning to a steady, normal breathing problem. Suddenly, the front door opened and a concerned and shirtless Jared leaned in the doorway, his brow furrowed.

Shit, I thought to myself as I paced, one eye trained on his figure. Am I in trouble?

I turned and walked up the front path, stopping in front of him. He reached out and pulled me into a frantic hug. My shoulders relaxed and I welcomed the embrace.

"Where were you? I was worried and you didn’t have your phone-"

"I’m fine. I was just running." I mistakenly thought it would comfort him, but his brow only knitted further.

His hand moved down to my hip as he asked, "Are you okay?"

I smiled and wiggled around a bit to show him before replying, "I’m perfect. Pain free, I swear."

His strained facial expression loosened bit by bit and I pushed a quick kiss against his lips as a reassurance before darting up the stairs to shower.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, a still shirtless Jared was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Evidently, he was still tired, and if I hadn’t started my morning with exercise, I would have been tired as well. As I walked past him to the closet, he reached out and grabbed my towel, quickly yanking me over to the bed and down on top of him. After I registered where I was and what had just happened, I started laughing and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he was holding me tightly against him.

"Let me go," I whined, unable to control the smile on my face.

"Never!" Jared said, a hint of malice in his voice.

"Let me go!" I said louder. In response, he flipped me over onto my back and pinned my arms above my head with one hand, the other brushing the hair off of my forehead.

I felt him change from playful to passionate as he shifted above me. As if a magnet was between us, I uncontrollably rose off the mattress to meet his lips. Soft at first, I ran my tongue along his lower lip before opening my mouth to him and giving away my sense of control.

I felt my back brush the sheets as we lowered ourselves back down again, the fluffy bath towel still wrapped around me but falling ever so slightly. My fingers laced through his hair, gripping tightly, as I leaned further into the kiss.

He changed again, from passionate to intensely fierce, projecting a powerful hunger. His hands slid down my bare shoulders before arriving at my chest to discard the towel. I impatiently pushed harder against him as he undressed. I traced my fingers along his abdomen down to the protruding hipbones before he stopped me. He pinned my arms to the bed as he brought his mouth against mine again. His hands left my wrists as our mouths parted. Breathing heavily, my head began to spin as his fingers and lips explored my skin. My hands pulled at any part of his body they could reach, pleading with him for more.

I felt his hips push against me as we began our intense rhythmic ascent together. The feelings more exquisite and powerful than I had ever felt before, I was unable to stop the occasional whimper or gasp from passing through my lips, some muffled by his mouth and others resounding throughout the room.

As we slowed, I released the tight grasp I had held on his back. We untangled and turned to our sides.

I lay comfortably in his arms until he ran his fingers across the skin dangerously low on my stomach and up my hip, pressing his lips to my neck. He knew exactly what it took, and he awakened amazingly strong desires within me repeatedly, and we were together again.

We stayed in bed until the early afternoon, our passion rising and falling, cycling between tender and savage. All questions from the previous afternoon were erased from my mind as I felt his love and need for me time and time again, without even the exchanging of words.

- - -

When we finally rose and made our way downstairs, my stomach was crying out again. I flipped open the box of pizza still sitting on the stove from the night before and lifted a piece out of the cardboard. I plopped myself on a stool as I took off the end of the slice with my teeth. Jared shook his head at me as he stuck a slice in the microwave. I stuck my tongue out at him, guffawing at his warm food, before taking another enjoyable bite of my cold food.  When the microwave beeped, he leaned against the counter across from me. 

Self-conscious for reasons I couldn’t identify, I focused down to the countertop or my food, avoiding his gaze.  I could feel him watching me, examining me.  My eyes flicked up to his and he was looking directly at me, his face a mix of emotions.  We were both trying to process our morning upstairs together.  Everything had been unbelievably intense, and we were both still reeling.

I didn’t know what to think anymore, and I slowly raised my gaze again to search him for an answer.  While I experienced all of my insecure thoughts, I had slowly put up my walls and pulled into myself like I so often did.  And when I looked into his eyes, I felt him faintly close himself off as well, leaving room for only his own thoughts. I couldn’t read him, and it scared me slightly.  But I steadily held his gaze without letting my walls down and began wondering what had changed that morning.  During our lovemaking, something had shifted in him, something inscrutable.  I was pretty sure nothing had changed within me; I was still insecure about what would happen next with us now that the tour was over.  I had simply forgotten it while we were together.

We didn’t speak, but I didn’t want to force anything, so I tore myself away from him and walked through the living, sunroom, and across the backyard to the hammock.  I lay down on my back and looked up through the moving leaves.  I concentrated on the clear, cloudless blue sky and wondered again what was going on with Jared.  I knew he was thinking deeply, contemplating something with more intensity than he usually did, and I was beginning to worry.  It was slightly intimidating.

My thoughts were interrupted when his weight rolled me on top of him.  I hadn’t even heard him approach, but he had laid himself down and now I was laying on him.  I made a move to roll off, but he placed a hand on my stomach, holding me in place.  I settled but remained tense.  His chest rose against my back and he prepared to speak.  I held my breath, waiting for the unveiling of what had puzzled and distressed me for more than an hour.  He exhaled slowly, as if he was having trouble choosing his words, and I reached down and pulled his arms tighter around me in the hopes it would calm him a bit.

He took another deep breath and said, “This isn’t easy.”  I wasn’t sure if I should speak, but he continued before I could formulate a thought.  “I’ve been thinking about what happens next, now that the tour is over,” he said, his voice dropping multiple decibels.  I nodded my head a tiny bit, not wanting to interrupt.  “I know you have a life in Buffalo.  An apartment, a job, friends, family.  But I don’t want to lose you.”

I couldn’t hold my mouth closed any more.  “God, I don’t want to lose you either.”  I pushed away the barrage of cyclic thoughts that had intruded the previous afternoon.  “I can’t lose you.”  It wasn’t desperation crowding my voice, simply passion.

“There’s no way in hell I want you to give up who you are,” he said, conviction and confidence returning to him.  “But I love you, and I need you with me.”

He paused, waiting to see if I had anything to say, but I was holding my breath.  I didn’t trust myself to breathe, let alone speak.

“So I guess what I want to know is, will you move in with me?  I know we’ve basically been already living together, but...that was only for the tour.  And now I mean indefinitely.  Will you live with me?” he asked, his voice growing softer as he went.

As the question filtered through my ears, I realized my dependency on him for so many things.  I was the closest to myself when I was with him, and I didn’t want to give that up.  I didn’t want to give him up.  I couldn’t do it.

I slowly turned over to look him in the eyes, carefully maneuvering without flipping the hammock over.  Before speaking, I pressed my lips passionately against his, the sensations from that morning returning to us briefly.

I blinked and stared into his unsure eyes, as if he wasn’t sure what my answer would be.

“Yes,” I said simply.

“Yes?”

“Most definitely.”  I smile simultaneously spread across both of our faces as the enormity of what had just transpired dawned on me.

I turned back over and curled myself against him, an enormous weight lifted off of my chest.  I was no longer filled with wonder and concern for the future.  For now, I was at peace.  I was happy.  We lay together staring at the sky until the sun began to set.  It was perfection.

Once again, nothing to do with my story.

These are my latest deranged, slightly rabid and convoluted thoughts concerning consumerism, brought on by my desire to buy CDs and movies, hindered by the fact that I am jobless and bankrupt. Ignore the following if you so wish.

So let’s face it. We are ALL consumerists. We all have that mentality, some more than others, but we all love to get new things whether it be a new CD, a new hat, a new pair of jeans, or a new car. It’s just the way we function and virtually cannot be controlled.

But what makes some people more obsessed than buying things than other people? And how do you know if you’re overly-consumed with consuming? Or, more importantly, why do we have this need to buy things? We shouldn’t need material objects to make us happy, or happier even.

Are we incapable of being happy, satiated, by the people and relationships in our lives?

Or here’s an alternative.

Maybe the media feeds our desire to buy. Think about it. If there weren’t commercials, radio jingles, billboards, etc., would we be as compelled as we are? The media isn’t completely to blame, but they definitely feed the fire. And it’s all about money too.

It’s kind of disgusting if you really start to think about it. Everything revolves around money, and the more money you have, the more capable you are. Bullshit.

Now I’m mad.

And, why the HELL do all of the unhealthy foods have to taste so damn good?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

End rant.

 

Oh, I almost forgot. I might be going to Europe this summer!!! So freaking excited, it almost makes missing TOC okay. Almost.

We were in a hotel room somewhere in Texas. There were so many stops, so many venues, and they all began blurring into each other. The line between one hotel room and the next disappeared. But I lived for the shows and the people I was travelling with. I didn’t care so much about where we were.

It was morning, and for October, it was rather warm and humid. The covers clung to my skin as I shifted in bed, rolling over to look at Jared. He was already awake and was watching me.

I blinked a few times, checking the time and thinking about that day, trying to remember what day it actually was. I stood and walked to my bag to get my phone. I pulled it out and checked my messages before searching for the date on the calendar.

A small wave of emotion washed over me as my eyes landed on 19, and I sank to the floor. Resenting my reaction, I stayed crouched there and rubbed my temples. Two years. Two fucking years, and it wasn’t getting any easier. It should be getting easier.
I heard Jared sit up in bed and lean forward to look over the edge at me on the floor. Seeing me in a ball, he knew immediately that something was wrong. He got up quickly and knelt next to me, wrapping one arm around my shoulders, the other one placed on my elbow. His touch made me jump and I immediately snatched my phone off of the ground in the hopes of changing the screen before he saw the calendar displayed. Too late.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "It’s today."

At least he remembered, I thought.

I shook off his words, not wanting pity. I was actually quite proud of myself; I wasn’t crying yet.

I moved to get up, but he held me tightly, forcing my eyes to meet his. I met his gaze with what I hoped was a blank look on my own face. I would NOT be weak. But it didn’t last long. As soon as I focused on his crystal blue eyes, the compassion that crowded them was unbearable. I lost a tiny bit of control, a few small tears breaking through. I looked down, blinking hard to clear away the rest.

"I will be okay," I told him and pulled free of his grasp. I walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind me without looking back. I was afraid that if I saw his kneeling figure on the floor, I would completely break. I sat on the edge of the bathtub, my head in my hands massaging the sides of my head. Spying a bottle of Aspirin on the counter, I popped a few into my mouth and waited for relief to flood my consciousness.

When it finally did, I splashed cold water on my face, fully waking up, and slowly swung the door open, peering around its edge to find Jared. He was sitting on the bed half-dressed, his back turned to me. I walked to a chair across from him and sat down. Before he could speak, I said, "I don’t want to talk. Okay? But when I do, I will tell you." He simply nodded his head and closed his mouth. He stood and leaned over to me, kissing me lightly on the forehead before entering the bathroom and turning on the shower.

I looked around the room, a bit lost, and my eyes landed on my notebook and laptop. I needed to write, but did I want Jared to be able to read it? I told myself I needed to stop hiding from him and I decidedly picked up the notebook. I curled up in the chair and placed the notebook in my lap, open to the next blank page, and began writing.

Two years. I’ve stopped thinking that I’ve actually seen him sometimes, but October 19^th is not getting any easier. Fuck, it should be, shouldn’t it? After 2 years? I can’t remember the anniversary of my grandfather’s death, but I have no problem remembering Dan’s. Fuck. Just...fuck. This needs to stop.

My hands shaking, I turned the page, not sure what else to do.

I Am Not Strong Enough I wrote across the page, on autopilot, filling the entire space. Immediately frustrated and ashamed of myself, I slammed the notebook closed and threw it on the bed in front of me. I couldn’t deal with it at that moment. Baby steps, I needed baby steps.

Trying to shift my mind to something else, I leaned back in the chair and began absentmindedly tapping my fingers on my legs, playing a piano that I wished was actually in front of me.

Jared exited the bathroom and looked at me, but I continued staring straight ahead, continued playing my piano. His gazed moved back and forth from my face to my fingers before he got dressed and walked through the door into Shannon’s room.

Peripherally, I wondered what they were talking about, what everybody was doing. But it was a day off for us, and we weren’t leaving the city, whichever city it was, until later that afternoon.

I melted away until Jared was bent over in front of me, a hand on each of my shoulders, his crystal eyes peering into mine.

"Laura?" I shook my head and focused on him. "Are you okay? Will you come with me?" His words were laced with concern.

I stood slowly, my legs stiff and softly replied, "I’m okay. Where are we going?"

"Somewhere I hope you will like," he said, and left it at that. It wasn’t just the two of us; it was the whole band. We were in a big black SUV and the entire ride was silent, unusual for the guys. I silently wondered what was up, if Jared had told them about today and what it was to me.

As we pulled into a parking lot, I realized we were at the venue from the previous night. I was about to ask what we were doing, but Jared put a hand on my shoulder, my signal to not ask questions. I obediently shut my mouth and exited the car behind him. The memory of the concert last night came back to me as we walked down a hallway past the dressing room I had spent a fair amount of time in. I wanted that ecstasy, that excitement from the show back, but it wouldn’t come. We walked through a door near the end of the hall. It looked like an even fancier dressing room, but not very large. There were a couple couches, full-length mirrors on the wall, folding tables stacked in a corner, and an upright piano against the far wall. When my eyes landed on the piano, I panicked and backed up until Jared caught me. I spun around to face him trying to control the emotions rocketing through my body. I glanced from him to Matt, Shannon, and Tomo behind us in the doorway. My mind was spinning, unable to take a course of action. Jared held me firmly, searching my face, trying to discern my emotions and whether he had done something wrong by bringing me here. I slowly forced myself to calm down, steadying my breath. I backed further into the room instead of trying to exit, so Jared let my arms go. Wordlessly, I moved to the piano and stood in front of it, running my fingers up and down the keys without applying pressure. As I pulled the bench out, I heard Jared silently ushering the guys into the room and closing the door behind them. When the sound had stopped, I turned and looked at each of them, trying to decide if this was something I really wanted to do. If it had been just Jared, it would have been easier, I wouldn’t have hesitated. Matt pointed to the door as my eyes met him, but I shook my head and turned back to the piano, focusing my eyes on the stark whiteness of the ivory before me. Rubbing my palms up and down my thighs, a habit I always had before playing a piano, I closed my eyes and chose a song. I took a final deep breath, letting myself slip away, and placed my fingers on the keys.

All it took were the first few notes of my own song for me to get lost. As far as I was concerned, the only things present in that room was me and the piano, my fingers hitting every ivory key. I could feel the hammers hitting the strings inside and I was soaring, my breathing ragged again. Gone was the proper posture for playing that I had learned as a child. I was hunched over the keys, ready to collapse at any second, the only thing keeping me upright being the music. My song morphed into Ever the Same, my mouth automatically opening to sing. Subconsciously I wondered about my song choices, moving from that song to No Bravery, Konstantine, Losing My Religion, and finally Hallelujah.

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah…

The beauty of the song, the strength of the words cut through my emotions, my lungs pushing out all of the oxygen they could hold, my body exhausting itself.

I slowly fell back into my own song, my own composition, the comfort and familiarity breaking me.

I stopped and my fingers dropped from the keys, my chest heaving and my vision blurred. I didn’t move. Instead I listened for words, sounds, anything, from the people sitting on the couches behind me. But there was nothing, no movement. They were waiting for me. I straightened my shoulders, pulling myself out of my hunched position, and twisted around on the bench. I sought Jared’s gaze, his eyes intently searching my face for signs of my strength. My eyes pleaded with his and he almost immediately rose from the couch, moving to my side as I stood to meet him. He wrapped his arms around me as I collapsed against him, and he guided me back to the couch. I fell against the cushions and squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn’t look at anyone yet. I pulled my legs to my chest and rested my forehead on my knees. I shuddered suddenly, and then shivered, my hands beginning to shake. I clenched and unclenched my fists, trying to stop the tremors. Strength slowly returning, I lifted my head, rubbing a few stray tears from my eyes before pulling my hair back from my face. I looked first at Jared.

"What’s wrong?" he whispered.

I searched my emotions and body, looking for an answer, but nothing came.

"I...I don’t know. Nothing. Nothing’s wrong," I said slowly. And it was true. I truly felt a slight sense of normalcy again. I still felt raw from the music, but it had helped. It was my therapy. No, I wasn’t happy. But I wasn’t sad either, or ready to slip away into myself at any moment as I had in the morning.

I turned my attention to Shannon, Matt and Tomo. They were watching us, mild looks of concern gracing their faces as they waited for our whispers to cease. I attempted a smile to reassure everyone, successfully pulling it off.

"What did you think?" I asked the collective audience.

They looked at Jared, waiting for him to speak, but he remained silent.

"It was...amazing," Tomo said, partially speechless.

I blushed and looked down into my lap.

"Did you write the beginning and end?" Matt asked.

In a wave of self-consciousness, I glanced over at Jared. He smiled at me, telling me he had recognized it and reassuring me. "Um, yeah. I did," I said tentatively before looking back up at Matt.

"It was fucking beautiful," Shannon said slowly, processing what he had just learned. He seemed impressed, they all did, and I became even more embarrassed. Admiration and encouragement was always hard for me to handle, even though it was positive.

Tomo opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally choosing the words to say. "You really should sing with us sometime. Or play with us. Whatever you’re comfortable with. It would be a damn shame if you didn’t DO something with...that," he said motioning towards the piano.

"Well thank you," I said blushing even more, a smile slowly spreading across my face. "I don’t know...we’ll see. Maybe." I looked back at Jared. There was a proud gleam in his eyes and he reached out and pulled me against him.

"I’m sorry," he said.

"Sorry for what?" I asked, slightly alarmed.

"I don’t know. For bringing you here, for bringing the guys, for forcing you to play when it seemed like you didn’t want to."

I pressed my lips quickly against his to stop him from continuing.

"Listen to me," I said focusing on his clouded eyes. "You didn’t force me into anything. I wouldn’t have played if I didn’t want to, I would have sung if I didn’t want to. But it was going to happen eventually, and today...well today I needed it. I had been missing a piano. If anything, you should be saying ‘You’re welcome.’ So thank you for doing this for me." His eyes brightened as my words worked their way into his brain, registering and settling there. "I may be a little...broken. A little raw. But that’s not your fault."

He looked confused again. "If you’re broken, if your emotions are unstable, then how was this a good thing?"

I chewed on my lip as I thought, my fingers pulling the Romanian ring on and off my finger. "I honestly couldn’t tell you, even if I wanted to." I watched his face for a reaction, but nothing changed, as I hadn’t given a very clear answer. I took a deep breath before adding to it. "Every once in a while I have to self-destruct in this small way. It’s just what I do. It keeps me sane. It keeps me...human."

He seemed to accept my answer, his eyes brightening once again, the comfort of it washing over me. I stood and pulled Jared to his feet before turning to the rest of the guys. "Lunch?"

- - -

After lunch, we had an hour before we were leaving for Santa Fe and starting out on the last week and a half before the end of the tour. I was packed and ready to go, and I didn’t want to sit around the hotel room waiting. I excused myself and walked across the street to a small park. There was a playground, gazebo, and multiple benches along a stone path.

Quite Zen, I thought to myself.

I chose to avoid the few people scattered here and there and instead walked off the path past the benches.

I sat cross-legged in the grass and trained my gaze on a small bird pecking under a tree not too far away. It was quiet despite the main road not being too far away. I shut out the cars and focused on the sounds of birds and kids playing, their parents watching and worrying.

I let my focus waver as I moved deeper inside my psyche, then further outside my body, letting the cycle slowly repeat. It was my meditation and my solace.

Dan’s face as it had been two years ago floated before my eyes before younger versions took their place. Memories of our childhood flashed in my mind as I moved deeper inside myself. I allowed the pain, anger, and loss to envelop me for mere minutes before I was gone again, outside myself and moving further and further away, escaping the consuming grief and regret before returning to it for a final time and attempting to let it go. As my eyes came back into focus on the bird under the tree, a serene sensation of peace fell over me. This year, this month, this day, I was okay.

- - -

We left shortly after I made my way back to the room. It had been a slow-moving day and the bus ride was no different. After stopping briefly for dinner, I had a Smirnoff and put my headphones in, waiting for Jared to lay down. I replayed Cacophony by one of my favorite unsigned and little-known bands, Vaeda, before I put the player on shuffle and once again admired its case.

It turned out that for my birthday, Kevin, Eva, and Sarah had all gone in together and bought me a 30GB white video iPod, fully equipped with a 30 Seconds to Mars cover. They had given it to me minutes before we pulled away in the bus as a part birthday gift and part going away gift. They knew it would be a while before I would see them again, so they used that excuse knowing I didn’t really want my birthday recognized.

I was running my fingers along the edge of the player and softly nodding my head in time to a Billy Talent song when Jared closed his laptop and moved over towards me. I automatically shifted forward so he could lay behind me on the narrow cushioned bench. It was a ritual we had begun performing every night we were on the bus. I removed the headphones from my ears and nestled against him, the warmth of his body comforting.

"Thank you," I whispered.

I knew he was smiling. "For what?" he asked.

"For today, for everything. I don’t know. Just, thank you."

I carefully turned over and buried my face in his chest.

"You’re welcome," he said, barely audible, and placed a steady hand on my hip before curling himself protectively around me. I let his familiar scent and touch fill my senses as the noise of the bus speeding over the asphalt below us slowly lulled me to sleep.

 

- - -
This chapter was inspired by Dan.  He's a real person, and he really did die at the age of 17.  The blog entry that originally talked about him in a previous chapter was directly cut and pasted from my blog.  He had been a friend a few years ago and when we were kids, and the three month anniversary of his death is in a week or so.  I debated not writing about it, or deleting it once I had written it, but I decided to keep it.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter, I'll hopefully have another one soon.

So this journal isn’t at all related to my story.  Just some random, possibly deranged, thoughts for you to contemplate, if they even make sense.  Who knows once I’m finished.  And I thought I’d post it here, because I’d much rather converse with you all about it (if you’d like), instead of the two people that actually read my xanga or aeonity.

Anyway, this might get a little angry at some points, but it’s kind of hard to stop myself sometimes.  So you can ignore it if you so wish.

 

So let’s start with movies.  I am no one to judge, because my taste in movies, like my taste in music, varies greatly, spanning all genres.  But when you see a movie like Donnie Darko or American History X in a list of movies like Clueless, Mean Girls, Freaky Friday, The Notebook, etc., does it ever make you wonder if the person has actually seen Donnie Darko or American History X?  It’s not my place to judge anybody, and I’m trying my damndest not to, but it makes me wonder.  When one movie like that stands alone, it’s a little hard to believe.  I don’t know, maybe it’s just me.  But from my own experience, I saw Donnie Darko, and then I wanted to see more movies like it.  I wanted to see American Psycho, I wanted to see Requiem for a Dream, Vanilla Sky, Pi, and Stay.  I didn’t just watch it, decide I liked it, and dismissed it to go back to romantic comedies and dramas.  ((But like I said, my taste spans genres, and I am a fan of The Notebook.  =] ))

 

Hehe quick sidenote: My toes and fingers are numb, so it’s taking me forever to type this.  I just spent an hour shoveling outside in sub-zero temperatures at my mother’s request.  Or more like demand.  And it’s still snowing and blowing, so I’m not really sure what shoveling accomplished.  It will be filled back in about half an hour from now anyway, and she’ll tell me to go back out there again.  Lovely.

 

So, back to it.

 

And then there’s music.  The fact that a band is popular is never, EVER, a good reason to like them.  And it’s not a good reason to obsess over them either.  Now, I may sound a bit hypocritical here, because I obsess over 30 Seconds to Mars, and Jared, but I think we can all agree that they’re not exactly well-known.  And I obsess not just because they are all gorgeous men, but because their music is amazing, they’re brilliant musicians, their concerts are the best experiences of my life, and they are an inspiration to me.  And I could go on.  If you can say the same about the band(s) you obsess over, then kudos to you, I respect that immensely.  But I wonder, which means more to the majority of people?  Popularity, or substance and talent?  You don’t need to listen to the popular music to fit in, okay?  Just please know that.

 

I’m done.  And I don’t really like myself after reading what I wrote, but I thought I’d post it anyway.  Thoughts?

 

Oh and I highly recommend the movies I mentioned, but I'll mention them again.  Donnie Darko, American History X, American Psycho, Requiem for a Dream, Vanilla Sky, Pi, and Stay.  Plus Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, 25th Hour, and The Fountain. Or how about just any movie in my profile.  =]

 

 

Sorry for this bout of rambling.  I thought about deleting the whole thing, but now you all have a good look at the way my mind works sometimes.  And this is just a mild example, a small peek.  =]

Okay I like this chapter a lot more than the last two.  Writer's block is definitely gone for now.  Hope you like it too.
Oh, and I'm trying to come up with a title for this story, but I can't think of anything good.  Any suggestions would be greatly welcomed!

 

Once Jared woke in the morning, I immediately got up. I was excited. Today, we were going to Buffalo. Finally I would get to see my friends.

I showered and got dressed before impatiently sitting and waiting for everybody to be ready to leave.

After breakfast, I slept on the bus. Having not slept all night, I was exhausted just from trying to keep my eyelids open. They got me up for lunch, but I fell asleep again after that until Jared shook me awake. I blinked, not moving, until I remembered where I was. I bolted upright and looked out the window. We were in front of my apartment. A huge smile spread across my face and I ran off the bus, up the stairs, and through the door of my apartment, finally collapsing on the couch.

One by one, four faces appeared above the back of the couch, peering down and laughing at me.

"Fuck it feels good to be here," I said. I pulled out the pillow that was under me and threw it at their heads. They disappeared and it was silent. I frowned and waited, wondering what was coming next.

Before I knew what was happening, they were all piled on top of me on the couch. Somebody’s knee was dangerously close to my teeth, so I went for it and bit down.

"FUCK!" somebody yelled. I was pretty sure it was Shannon.

Satisfied, I tried wiggling around. But I had the weight of four men on top of me, possibly three after the bite. Needless to say, I was pinned down and slowly was having trouble breathing. My chest was being crushed.

Finally, they all rolled off. I started taking deep breaths, allowing oxygen back into my lungs and to my brain. They were all lying on the floor and laughing as hard as humanly possible.

Ha. Well I was glad they found it so funny. I stood and moved to the kitchen, pulling out my Sidekick as I went. I called Sarah and she picked up almost immediately.

"I’m back bitch!"

There was screaming on the other end.

"We need to do something." I said laughing.

"Hell yeah! Tonight."

"What did you have in mind?" I asked.

"We’re coming over at 11:00," she said.

"Wait, who’s…" and she hung up. "Who’s we?" I said to myself.

- - -

At exactly 11:00 pm, Sarah, Eva, and Kevin came bursting through the door. I immediately flew off the couch to meet them, unable to contain my excitement. They were my best friends and I had missed them like crazy.

"So where exactly are we going?" I asked Sarah as we all followed her down the stairs and outside.

She turned and started walking backwards, grinning at me. "Clubs."

"Chippewa!" I screamed. Jared was looking at me like I was insane. "It’s only one of the best streets in the city," I explained. "Especially if you want to party, drink, and dance."

"And what do we want to do?" Eva said.

Sarah and I looked at each other before yelling in unison, "All of the above!"

We split between Sarah and Kevin’s cars, mine was still in LA, and we barely fit.

It was a Friday night and the city was alive. Well, at least Chippewa was. We went to Quote first, it was our favorite. "This is the club I was at when you texted me that night," I told Jared as we walked in.

We didn’t stay very long, opting instead to move down Chippewa to Pearl Street where we arrived at Soundlab.

We all moved to a round booth near the back, but Sarah, Eva and I never sat down. We got drinks at the bar but then we hit the dance floor. None of the guys wanted to dance with us, so we danced with each other. I can’t even remember how long we were dancing. It just felt so amazing to actually be with my friends again, not just texting or talking on the phone.

I went back and sat with Jared a few times, but he kept pushing me back on the dance floor with Sarah and Eva. He wasn’t by himself, he was sitting with Shannon, Matt, Tomo, and Kevin, and he could tell I was having fun.

At about 4:30 am, Kevin and Jared drove the two cars back to my apartment with all of us piled in the back. They were the only two that hadn’t really been drinking.

Everybody crashed in my apartment. Me and Jared in my room, Sarah and Eva in the extra bedroom, and the guys in the living room, most people on the floor. We fell asleep almost immediately.

- - -

I was the last one up in the morning at 11:00. Hearing voices in the kitchen, I dragged myself out of bed, almost immediately smelling coffee. I squinted and brought my hand up to my forehead to shield my eyes from the extraordinarily bright sunlight and stumbled out of my room.

Jared immediately walked over to me. "Good morning," he said, planting a kiss on my lips. "I was waiting for you to get up. We have to go check out the venue and everything, but we’ll be back in a couple hours. You gonna be okay?" I nodded my head but quickly stopped, the motion throwing off my balance. They disappeared out the door and I entered the kitchen where Sarah, Eva, and Kevin were sitting, all holding cups of coffee.

"Share," I said. Eva handed me her cup of coffee as I sat next to her at the table.

"And good morning to you too!" Kevin said, surprisingly cheerful. But then again, he hadn’t been drinking last night and I had.

I brought a finger to my lips. "Quieter maybe?" I whispered.

He laughed loudly, enjoying torturing me.

"Fuck you," Sarah said and kicked him as she led me into the living room. Kevin and Eva soon joined us, and we spent the late morning and early afternoon watching Saturday morning cartoons together like we used to when we were 10.

They took turns showering in my bathroom and the extra one off the guest bedroom. They had all brought a change of clothes with them for the concert, not wanting to have to leave and then come back. I was happy, I loved having my friends around and I was glad they weren’t going to leave me by myself to get ready while the band was gone.

When the guys got back, they all took turns showering and getting ready as well, bringing up a few bags from the bus.

I walked into my bedroom, heading towards the bathroom to take my own shower and get ready to go, but Jared was sitting on my bed doing something on his blackberry. I didn’t want to disturb him, but he said hello as soon as I entered.

"Hey. Listen, did you have fun last night?" I asked tentatively.

He looked up. "Yeah, of course I did. Why do you ask?"

I wasn’t really sure. I had been doing some under-age drinking and I hadn’t spent much time with him, mostly dancing with Sarah and Eva.

He knew what I was thinking though. "It’s okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I wasn’t really into Quote as much, but Soundlab was fucking amazing," he said.

I relaxed immediately. "My god, I love that place. They have some of the best fucking DJs around. They’ve even had a few shows."

"Last night was good," he said again, reassuring. "And you were having fun, with your friends. So I was happy. I feel bad having kept you away from them for so long."

I could hear the guilt in his voice. "Hey, it’s not like you were keeping me on tour or in LA against my will. I love it there, and it’s my choice to stay with you. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay," he said, smiling and shaking his head. "Oh shit, I almost forgot. Your brother dropped this off this morning. I was the only one awake so I answered the door. He left it with me and wanted me to tell you that he’s sorry he won’t get to see you, but he and Kiera are going up to Vermont for the weekend or something." I moved over to the bed and he handed me a small square silver box. I recognized it immediately and couldn’t help but smile. "What is it?" he asked.

"When I was little, I used to sneak into my mom’s room when she was down in the kitchen making dinner. I would push a chair up to her dresser, get this box, and sit on her bed looking at what was inside of it until she called up to me that dinner was ready. She always knew that I was doing it, but she never said anything. To me, it was the most beautiful thing in the world. And I still think that."

He ran his fingers up and down my arm, rubbing my shoulder, knowing how something relating to my mother sometimes affected me.

I smiled faintly and lifted the lid, preparing myself for what was inside. It was a Romanian ring. A wide silver band with a single turquoise stone set in the center of it.

"It was my great grandmother’s," I said softly. "She brought it with her when she brought her family to the U.S., and it was passed down to my grandmother, and then my mother. I was just too distracted when my mom died to think about it. I had completely forgotten…" I trailed off. Slowly I lifted the ring out of its box and slid it onto my finger, finding one where it fit. My mother had never worn it, but I felt I needed to. I slipped into place in my left middle finger. I made a loose fist and ran my finger around the stone, admiring the age, beauty, and meaning it possessed.

"I have something for you," Jared said softly, bringing my mind back to the world. I looked over at him, puzzled as to what it could be. He lifted another silver box off the bed that had been hidden beside him where I couldn’t see. It was larger, more rectangular. "Happy birthday," he said when he handed it to me. "I figured it was okay to give to you now since it’s not truly your birthday."

I started to speak but he cut me off. "Just open it," he said.

I did as he said. When the lid had been lifted, I gasped. It was beautiful. "Oh my god. How did you…"

"When we were here in the summer, Charlie showed me the ring. He was hoping that you had forgotten about it because he wanted to do something special for you, and he thought I might want to as well. When we got back to LA, I went to a jeweler with the ring and had them make that. Then I sent the ring back to Charlie. We were going to give it to you together, but after last night, we both thought it would be better to let you sleep and he had to go."

"Unbelievable. You’re…you’re amazing," I said and leaned over to kiss him.

I set the box down in my lap and picked up the first object. It was a necklace. A smooth silver chain with a triangular turquoise stone set in silver hanging from it. I rubbed my fingers over the stone, admiring the imperfections and natural black lines running through it. Placing it back in the box, I picked up a pair of earrings, also silver and turquoise, examining them as well.

Setting it down again, I looked at Jared and tried to blink back the tears forming in my eyes. "I don’t know what to say."

"Don’t say anything," he said and pulled me to him for a kiss.

"It’s beautiful," I murmured when we broke, looking back down at the jewelry. I slipped the ring off my finger and placed it in the box. A complete set. I kissed him again, set the box on my dresser, and got into the shower.

- - -

Jared was getting dressed when I stepped out of the bathroom. I had my robe on and had just finished straightening my hair. I walked to the closet and tried to decide what to wear. My mind flicked back to the turquoise jewelry and I pulled out a plain black skirt and plain white tank. I kept my make-up simple; black eyeliner and mascara and a tiny bit of white shadow. I pushed my black-framed glasses on my face, opting against contacts for once. I slipped on a pair of black and white heels and walked to my dresser again. I lifted the earrings out of the box and fastened them in my ears. I was about to lift the necklace out when Jared came up behind me. He reached around and picked it up out of the box. I pulled my hair up and waited as he clasped it at the back of my neck. He looked at me in the mirror in front of us, lightly touching the turquoise stone at the center of my chest before slipping away to finish getting ready. Finally, I pushed the ring onto my finger, loving the power and sense of connection to the past it instilled in me. I looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror, satisfied with my attire. The jewelry stood out; it was the only color I had on.

I exited the bedroom to find Eva, Kevin, Sarah, and the band waiting for Jared and me. Sarah gave me a look after she took in the jewelry, a look that said, "We’ll talk later." I laughed and sat next to her to wait for Jared to emerge. And finally he did.

The band was wearing all black tonight, a stark contrast to the NYC show. But I loved it just the same.

We all went to the venue on the bus. The concert was not at the Town Ballroom this time; instead it was at the Buffalo Icon on Ellicott Street. I much preferred the Ballroom, but it would have to do.

We all went in the back, avoiding the crowd and line in the front. I went with my friends to the side of the stage to watch the openers, leaving the band to ready themselves alone. We were out in front of the fans, so Jared didn’t come to see me like he usually did before they went on.

The familiar music started, signaling their entrance onto the stage, and one by one they appeared. I had gotten used to this part, it seemed routine. But once the music started, I was in a completely different world. Each concert was a new experience; no two were ever alike for me, and this one was no different. If anything, it was better. It was 30 Seconds to Mars, it was Buffalo, it was my hometown, and I had my friends. It was perfection. I was taken aback, yet again, by the way the crowd and the bad fed off of each other, interacted with each other. 30 Seconds to Mars wouldn’t be 30 Seconds to Mars without the fans, and there was no better way to see that than during a concert. And the power of it never ceased to amaze me.

I lost myself in the moment, along with everyone else, and before I knew it, they were exiting the stage.

We all ran backstage and I threw my arms around Jared, spinning us around. He laughed and quickly caught his balance, breathing hard from the previous show. Exhilarated from the energy of the concert, I kissed him deeply but briefly, exposing my feelings and desire. I pulled back and he grinned at me.

"Where are you going to be?" he asked.

"I dunno," I shouted over the noise of the crowd that was pushing its way towards the doors. "I think we might be outside or on the bus. We’ll wait for you."

He kissed me again and the band made their way out to the front for autographs.

Kevin, Eva, Sarah and I waited outside in the parking lot, hanging back away from the bus, and waited for them to be finished. My adrenaline was still going strong and I couldn’t sit or stand still. It just felt so damn good. I loved this city, I loved my friends, I loved concerts, and I loved Jared. And it was all happening at once. My friends were sitting on a stone ledge leaning back against the fence, watching me and laughing as I paced back and forth.

"So explain the jewelry," Sarah finally said.

I stopped pacing and my hand reached for the turquoise stone around my neck. "Well, the ring was my mothers, it’s like a family heirloom. When she died, Charlie showed Jared the ring, and he had the necklace and earrings made to match. He gave them to me today." I started grinning, unable to stop.

"Jealous," Eva said.

I laughed and started pacing again.

"You’re so fucking lucky you have him," Sarah said. She turned to Kevin and said, "That’s how you treat a girl. That’s what you do for her. That’s how you show her you fucking love her. Remember that."

"Oh I will," he said. "You can fucking count on it."

They started joking with each other and I watched Sarah and Kevin, wondering if they would ever figure out that they loved each other, or at least liked each other. I shook my head and let my thoughts wander as they fought, waiting for the band to be done.

When the last fans had left from the bus, we made our way over and got on with them.

"Where’s everybody staying tonight?" Sarah asked.

Jared and I didn’t say anything, waiting for somebody else to make a plan.

Eva piped up. "I’ve got my parent’s house to myself until Monday night. We can all crash there if you want, there’s plenty of room."

A chorus of enthusiastic agreement met her proposal.

I looked over at Jared and we shared a knowing smile. "Well we’re staying at my place," I said. "But you all enjoy yourself."

The bus fell silent and everybody gave us a look as the bus pulled up in front of my building, most of their eyebrows arched.

I gave them the finger as I pulled Jared off the bus behind me, knowing what they were thinking but not really caring. I shouted over my shoulder, "Have a fucking good time!"

I slowed down as the bus pulled away and we went up the stairs to my door. We slipped inside, locking it behind us, and navigating our way through the living room to my bedroom in the dark.

He walked ahead of me and sat on the edge of the bed while I stood in the doorway. I moved fully into the room and walked around the bed to the opposite side. He watched me, his torso twisting to follow me around the room until I was directly behind him.

Drawn to the intensity of his eyes, I hungered for his touch.

Taking the initiative, I lightly crawled across the bed until I was behind him. He didn’t turn around. I placed my hands on his shoulders; my fingers tracing the muscles down his back, feeling them quiver in response to my touch. Reaching the hem of his shirt, I pulled it over his head and he finally turned around, pushing me onto my back and moving above me.

He was in control and I let myself go. We were primitive and aggressive, rough and unrestrained. It had been too long and we couldn’t hold back. I pushed against him, feeling his hands on my body, our mouths against each other, his tongue running along my lips before pushing further. My hands tightened their grip on his bare back, circling around to his chest with a mind of their own. His lips moved from mine down my neck, my chest, my stomach, and then disappeared. I lost focus as the rest of my clothes were shed. When his lips returned to my mouth, I impatiently pulled at the top of his jeans, fumbling with the button, my fingers brushing along the band of his Calvin Klein’s. He smiled into our kiss, his tongue withdrawing for a moment, amused at my inability to fully function. His hands joined mine, together managing the simple task I couldn’t handle alone at that moment. As our kiss broke, I bit my lip anticipating what was coming next before Jared pushed his lips against mine again.

At last the past repeated itself and we came together, the perfect combination of fleeting pain and lasting pleasure soaring through my body as I clung to him and we slowly rose and fell in perfect rhythm, satisfying our need for each other and finally filling the emptiness that had gripped me for far too long.

Paralyzed by the intensity, we froze until my hands fell from his back and he lowered himself onto the bed next to me. We didn’t talk, letting our pulses slow and our emotions stop spinning.

"You’re magnificent," he said after a while.

I smiled and buried myself in the covers against his chest, blissfully at peace. I pulled the sheets down from around my mouth and said, "You’re the one for me, you’re my ecstasy, you’re the one I need," quoting a song I knew he wouldn’t know.

I felt the shaking of his chest against my head as he laughed and asked, "Where’s that from?"

I shook my head. "No way. It’s pretty damn embarrassing."

"Oh come one, I won’t laugh." His arms snaked down under the covers and began poking me, tickling me. I freaked, screamed, and rolled over to the other side of the bed, dragging most of the covers with me.

"Look it up if you’re so freaking curious!" I sat up panting and waited for a reaction.

He quickly dove for me, faster than I could think, and wrapped his arms tightly around me, pulling me back over to him. "I think I just might do that," he said into my ear.

The warmth of his breath on my ear and the feel of his skin against mine was intoxicating. I turned over to face him and his lips found mine. I was immediately gone again, unaware of the surrounding world, my undivided attention and passion focused entirely on him, on us. I moved on top of him and traced the side of his face with my fingers, holding strong the connection between our mouths. His hands were on my hips, lightly pulling me down against him.

"You’re my ecstasy," I quoted in a whisper again when we had separated.

He lifted me off of him and turned to his side, pulling my body to his, my head against his chest.

I lay silently, thinking about our encounter. It had been completely different than our first time together. It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t gentle; it was really quite the opposite. A totally different experience and I quickly gave up comparing. It was an exercise in futility; insanity to compare. Instead, I listened to his heartbeat, tracing my fingers along the dip in his side between his ribs and protruding hipbone, and absentmindedly spinning the ring that hadn’t left my finger unlike the necklace and earrings.

Rays of dawning sunlight were projected across the foot of the bed as I fell asleep, submerged in the warmth of the body next to mine.

Sorry it's so short guys.  Really bad writer's block this time around.  But things should be better for the next few chapters at least.  =]

After my birthday, I found myself writing a lot more often, and I showed Jared more and more of my blog entries. I had decided that the notebook he gave me would be open for him to look at and read any time he wanted to. He tried to talk me out of it, to tell me that he didn’t need to, I deserved my privacy, blah blah blah. But I wanted him to. Sometimes I could write things I never could say, and it was important he know those things.

It was after a show in New Jersey, and we were staying overnight in a hotel before making the rather short drive to NYC the next morning. Jared and I were having our traditional post-show conversation, never talking about anything specific, just the random thoughts that occurred. He was flipping through the notebook as we talked. A few more pages had been filled in a similar fashion to the one I saw on my birthday, the one I didn’t remember doing. I had scribbled lyrics and quotes that had matched my mood at the time, along with more fragments of poems or songs I had written myself. Jared read, listened, and conversed at the same time, but I wasn’t offended. I knew he multi-tasked and it didn’t bother me.

I stopped talking when I watched his face change as he read something on the page. He traced his finger over a large pentagram I had drawn, reading the words in the center of it. I leaned over, curious what had caught his attention, not remembering what I had written there.

You used to be the boy next door,
We played together on the living room floor,
Jumped together into piles of leaves
And climbed in the branches of the apple tree.
But you made wrong choices,
Followed the wrong voices,
And I’m angry with you,
But I’m missing you too.

My face fell, remembering the day I had written it. August 19^th. The 19^th of every month was a date I always remembered.

Jared didn’t look up, he just kept re-reading it, and I could see him thinking back over the last couple of weeks, trying to remember a day I had been in a sad mood.

I reached over and touched his hand, stopping it from traveling its constant path around the star.

"Who is this?" he asked.

He lifted his arm and I laid down, my head on his shoulder, before answering the question.

"Do you remember the first thing I showed you? From my blog?" I felt him nod his head above me, so I continued. "His name was Dan. When we were young, we spent a lot of time together with most of the kids from our street." I paused, trying to decide how to continue. "As we got older, his friends changed and my friends changed, mostly because I was a year or two older. He got involved with some harmful things, a lot of drugs and alcohol, and we lost contact. And then a few years later, he died."

"And that’s who you wrote this about?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah. I never forgot about him, partially regretting not having steered him away from the drugs. After all, I was older than he was, though half the time he acted older than me. And even though we really didn’t talk anymore and I didn’t often see him, his death still came as a shock. You hear about people dying from a drug overdose all the time, but you just don’t think it will happen to someone you know."

I fell silent, thinking back on all the summer afternoons we had spent climbing trees and all of the fall days we had spent raking piles and piles of leaves to jump into.

"Anyway, he died on October 19^th. So when the 19^th of the month comes around, I am always subconsciously aware of it. But on August 19^th, I was a little more than just subconsciously aware. This October, it will be two years that he’s been gone. And I don’t know, that’s just what came out as I was thinking about it."

Jared waited to see if I was done before speaking. "I get it. I can’t say I know what you’re feeling, but I can understand where it’s coming from…But why are you angry with him?"

I shrugged. "I’m really not sure. It’s just what I felt. Maybe I’m angry because he didn’t realize the harm that could or would come of the things he had gotten himself into. Maybe I was just angry that he didn’t come to me or that I didn’t say anything about it to him. I saw him getting deeper and deeper into it with the passing years and I did nothing."

"You can’t blame yourself," he said softly.

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. "I know, I know that. And I don’t truly blame myself. I don’t really think there is anyone to blame. But sometimes I can’t help feeling a little bit of guilt. I just don’t usually let it get to me."

"I’m always here you know," he said squeezing my shoulder.

"I know. Thank you." I said it to satisfy him, but Dan’s death would always be something that, when it came to the real emotions centered around it, I would never be able to talk about. I could only write.

Neither of us spoke after that. I looked over at the clock. 3:17 am. Realizing we would be getting up in a little over 5 hours, I pulled the covers up over us and laid back down against him to sleep.

- - -

When we woke up the next morning, the notebook was still lying open in his lap under the sheets. I left it with him as I washed my face and brushed my teeth in the bathroom, just in case he wanted to read more. I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about anything else that might appear in it, but I had told him it was always open to him to read.

Luckily, when I got out, he had placed the notebook back in my bag and was getting himself ready for the drive up to NYC. He had gotten dressed, but I didn’t bother changing out of my pajamas, opting instead to simply pull a hoodie over my head.

We left the hotel and stopped not at Tim Horton’s (there wasn’t one in sight) but at McDonald’s. It wasn’t anybody’s preference, but it was the only thing around. I settled for a fruit and yogurt parfait and inferior coffee before taking everyone’s food back to the bus. I had begun to embrace my role as their ‘waitress’ for breakfast. I quickly finished the less-than-satisfactory food, the feeling mutual between all of us. I’m not sure where they had stopped for breakfast, if they ever did, before I joined them on tour, but now we had all become accustomed to Tim Horton’s and anything less was a disappointment.

Set up and soundcheck at Roseland went smoothly, as usual. We checked into yet another hotel, the same one we had stayed in on the last tour in NYC. We were staying overnight and driving all the next day to Buffalo with a free night and day before their show there. I was excited and anxious to get home and see everyone again; it was almost the only thing I could think about.

I collapsed on the bed as soon as we entered the room, needing to rest for a few more hours before getting ready for the show. Jared closed the door between the rooms to give me peace and quiet. I didn’t know what the guys were doing, but I didn’t much care. I just wanted sleep.

- - -

We were actually early to the show for once, not our usual 15 minutes late. The openers were just beginning as we entered the dressing room. Having slept through lunch, I immediately walked over to the food table and grabbed a bottle of water and some fruit.

I walked down the hallway to the backstage area, deciding to listen to the openers instead of just hanging around the dressing room. They weren’t extraordinarily good, just your average opener. I could always appreciate any kind of music, but that night I was impatiently anticipating 30 Seconds to Mars’ performance. I didn’t know why, maybe it was just the memories of the last concert at this same venue. It had been the first time I fell apart during A Modern Myth in front of them, the first time Jared had looked at me with deep concern in his eyes. There was just something about that night that stuck in the back of my mind, something about being in NYC. It had also been in this city that Jared had given me the necklace, and that I would surely never forget.

I was nudged out of my thoughts when two white-sleeved arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me backwards. I smiled and tipped my head back against his shoulder, our heads next to each other.

"Where are you going to be?" he said into my ear so I could hear him.

"I think I’m going down in front," I yelled back. He kissed my neck before letting me go. "Have fun!" I called over my shoulder as I made my way down to the front of the stage, but I’m not sure if he heard me.

The security guys knew me and let me through to in front of the barrier without a problem. I always felt bad as I walked pass numerous fans to a place they all wanted to be, but nobody usually said anything.

I waited as the entrance music started. Fog spilled onto the stage and lights flashed up against the backdrop. Shannon’s shadow appeared through the beams of the strobe light and he made his way to the drums as the crowd erupted. Matt and Tomo followed and the screams never subsided. Finally, a fourth shadow appeared and the roar from the mass of people behind me grew louder than I thought was possible. He ran the length of the stage and back before pulling a bandana down to around his neck. He was handed Pythagoras and slipped the red strap over his head, the color standing out against his all-white attire. After asking the people of New York City how the fuck they were doing tonight, they started A Beautiful Lie, one of my favorite live songs if there even was a favorite.

The concert was amazing, as always. Thankfully, A Modern Myth was not on the setlist. I didn’t have a very good record at this venue with that song, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold it together that night.

Halfway through the signing, I got up and slipped unnoticed back through the venue and out to the bus before the crowd gathered. I had a growing headache and didn’t want to wait around to see if any fangirls would be giving me dirty looks that night too. I debated writing or playing guitar but opted instead for some Ibuprofen and my headphones turned down low.

Before I knew it, four noisy men were climbing onto the bus, one of them throwing himself on top of me. I wriggled out from underneath him, shaking myself awake and glancing at the time display on my mp3 player before collapsing back into the cushions. I looked around at the guys, their faces all flushed.

"Good show?" I asked.

"Fucking fantastic," Jared said, borrowing my overused but trademark phrase. I threw a look at him, not sure if he was mocking me or not.

I realized the bus had started moving, making its way through the busy streets of the city, even though it was 1:30 am.

"What? No fireworks tonight?"

"Hell no, that was a one time deal," Shannon said. "There’s no way I’m suffocating in a cloud of smoke like that again."

I burst out laughing, knowing that yes, he in fact probably would. I had seen the Mars TV Episode with fireworks.

I got up and got a Dr. Pepper, not sure if Jared and I would have our usual post-show talk or not. But I figured I should be prepared just in case.

We got back to the hotel and I immediately changed into my pajamas before curling up under the covers. I watched Jared change until he moved behind me out of my line of sight. Not wanting to move, I listened, trying to figure out his actions. I felt him pull the covers up and lay down, immediately sliding next to me and wrapping an arm around my stomach. I settled back into him and waited for him to speak.

"How are you?" he asked.

I suddenly realized he had been asking me that a lot lately and it made me uncomfortable. Figuring he was referring to the previous night, I replied, "It’s not the 19^th. I’m okay."

I could see him, but I could tell he was chewing on his lip, staring out into the air, choosing his words. "I’ll never understand how you can change your emotions like that," he finally said.

On the face of it, his statement could be taken as a bad thing. But I knew him better than that, I knew it wasn’t.

"I don’t understand it either. Sarah always used to tell me she admired how I could do that. How I could tell myself to stop feeling something, and I would stop feeling it. She used to say it made me invincible, nothing could hurt me because I wouldn’t let it."

After a pause, he said, "Even the invincible are vulnerable."

"And I’m nowhere near invincible."

His words had struck me. I always put on this mask, convincing everyone around me that I was okay all of the time. Even convincing myself of that as well. Jared was the only person I had learned not to do that with. And it scared me. But now I could accept it. I really wasn’t invincible.

We didn’t talk after that. Eventually I heard his breathing slow and felt the rise and fall of his chest against my back.

I couldn’t sleep. I lay awake with my thoughts, going around in circles. I watched the lights of passing cars come through the window and throw their beams across the ceiling. I watched the dark of night change to the glow of morning. And I repeatedly thanked the higher powers, whoever they may be, for letting this man into my life.

Forgive this chapter please.  It's awful.  But I have writer's block, I don't know, my head is just all over the place.  Next one will be better maybe.

The bus drove over the curb, waking me out of my slumber. I opened my eyes to find everyone else stirring as well, squinting and blinking to adjust to the morning light. I looked over at Jared who was sharing a couch with me, his head at the opposite end, and his feet somewhere around my stomach.

"Happy birthday," he murmured as he shifted and sat up.

"Fuck," I grumbled, curling into a ball and hiding my eyes from the light. I forgot that was today. We had been on the road for two weeks and I had let the days blur into each other, not wanting to remember my birthday or have anyone else remember it, but I should’ve known Jared would.

Suddenly my arms were being pried away from my legs and a party hat was snapped onto my head, the elastic under my chin. I shot a menacing look at Jared who was standing over me, but I didn’t get the chance to take it off before Shannon took a picture. I snatched it off of my head and threw it across the bus at him. Not only had he gotten my picture with the hat one, but I had barely woken up yet and I was sure I looked like hell.

I turned around and looked out the window. We were in the parking lot of Tim Horton’s. Knowing my duty, I stood and stretched, pulling the hood of my sweatshirt over my head. Jared handed me some bills and I took everyone’s order before going in. Tim Horton’s had become our traditional breakfast if we were on the bus and not in a hotel. And it hadn’t taken long for me to get used to a large coffee and blueberry muffin every morning.

I returned carrying two bags and a tray of coffee cups. I had barely made it onto the bus before four very hungry men pounced on me. We inhaled our food as we drove over to the venue. Still in my pajamas with my hood pulled up, I shuffled off the bus after them, my warm cup of coffee cradled between my hands.

We were in Charleston, South Carolina. It was already 12:00, the sun almost directly overhead, and it was only getting warmer.  I needed a shower.

I curled up in a folding chair off to the side of the stage to watch and listen as they set up, but eventually my thoughts drifted.  As I watched Jared, I remembered that afternoon the week before we left.  I remembered how perfectly incredible being with him had felt and I wanted that again.  But since being on tour, I had suppressed my strongest feelings for him.  We shared a bed each night we were in a hotel, but nothing went further than kissing.  It didn’t feel right knowing Shannon, Tomo, and Matt were on the other side of the wall.  But it was getting harder and harder to pull back on both our parts.

Interrupting my thoughts, I heard the band playing and Jared start singing.

He was singing Happy Birthday, unable to contain a smile on his face as he did.

I threw my now-empty coffee cup and hit him squarely in the chest.  I burst out laughing, forgetting my anger at him ignoring my wish to forget my birthday.  Instead I was unable to contain myself at the look of surprise that crossed his face and interrupted his singing. 

He started to pout and turned his back to me, forgetting the rest of the song.  Victory was mine, and I sat back smiling smugly as they finished setting up.

We drove to a hotel once they were finished.  I was told we wouldn’t be staying overnight, but we all needed a place to shower and relax for a couple hours before the show.

I showered and dressed.  As I waited for the guys to get ready, I pulled out my notebook and opened to the first page.  A note to Jared was displayed, written that night at Dunkirk.  I read it to myself again before turning the page.  A collage of words and drawings appeared.  I didn’t remember when I had done it.  Turning the book to its side I began to read the fragments of poems and songs I had scrawled around the edge.  One in particular stood out, my pen having traced the words multiple times.

Broken down beyond repair,

Her tears are falling everywhere.

Like silent rain on tin rooftops,

Silent rain that will not stop.

I vaguely remembered writing it on a plane, maybe flying home for my mother’s service?

I shook it off, not sure I wanted to remember, and definitely deciding I didn’t want to expand on it.

I snapped the book shut and drummed my fingers on the cover.  I hadn’t written anything in a while.  I could feel that I needed to, but I didn’t know where to start.

I checked my watch.  I still had an hour.  I opened the book once more and pulled out a pen.  Touching the tip to the paper, I started writing.

Today is my birthday.

I feel infinitely older than 20.

And it didn’t just happen today.

I grew up the day I realized my parent’s marriage was broken.

I grew up the day I realized I had no escape.

I grew up the day I realized the screaming matches at 7:00 in the morning weren’t occasional occurrences.

I grew up the day I started calculating the repercussions of my words before speaking, not wanting to spark a fight.

I grew up the day my father disappeared.

I grew up the day I realized I couldn’t please her, no matter how hard I tried.

I grew up the day I slept with him.

I grew up the day I got over him.

I grew up the day I realized I wasn’t who I used to be, who I thought I was.

I grew up the day I moved out.

I grew up the day I decided against college.

I grew up the day she died.

I am older than 20, but I have only been alive 20 years.

I looked up from the paper, gripping the pen, resisting the urge to scribble the words out, tear the paper to shreds.  Jared walked in having finished getting ready.  He looked from my face to the notebook in my lap and silently sat on the bed.  I turned back to the page, peripherally aware that he was watching me but focusing completely on the words.

Jared –

Some people might say I grew up the day I met you, the day I fell in love with you.

But even if that is true, those are the only two things I do not regret.

Because you keep me sane.  And you keep me strong.  And I don’t know what I would do without that.

And that is why I want to forget it is my birthday.

Can you understand that?

I love you.  More than you can fathom.

I stood and moved next to him on the bed.  He looked at me, question filling his eyes.  I placed the notebook in front of him and waited.

He closed it when he was finished.  He leaned his forehead against mine and whispered, “I understand,” before gently kissing me.

We were interrupted by a knock on the door.  It was Matt.  “Sorry, but we kind of have to go.  We’re going to be late.”

“Thank you,” I said to Jared before we rose and walked out to the bus.

- - -

The show that night was spectacular.  I managed to hold myself together during A Modern Myth.  I had been getting better at it and they didn’t play it very often.

Sitting behind the table against the wall while they were signing autographs, I noticed a few of the girls in line throwing nasty looks my way.  They were whispering to each other, not loud enough for me to hear, and glancing back and forth between me and Jared as they waited their turn.  It suddenly occurred to me that they must have seen pictures of us together that night at the club, and they obviously disapproved.  Highly amused, it was all I could do to keep from laughing, or at least giving them the finger.  But I figured that could probably hurt the band, so I managed to restrain.

I chewed on my lip as the line of fans slowly shrank.  When the last group of people had disappeared out the door, Jared came over and wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me off of the stool.

“What did ya think of the show?” he asked.

“Fucking fantastic,” I said smiling.  It was a phrase I often overused, but I couldn’t control it.

He grinned and led me through the backstage area, the guys following behind.  They stopped in front of the door.  Jared pulled at his jacket, ran his fingers through his hair, and straightened his shoulders, letting his grip on my waist go.  I stepped to the side and let the band exit to meet and greet the Echelon and other fans waiting by the bus.  When they had been enveloped by the group of people, I slipped out behind them and onto the bus.  I wasn’t hiding; I just wanted to give them their time with the fans.

I grabbed my mp3 player out of my bag and collapsed onto the couch, curling my legs up underneath me.  I went to the videos and scrolled through the list until something caught my eye.  Pressing play, I settled back to watch one of my favorite videos of all time, Coma White.  I loved the words, and every since seeing the video, I had a greater appreciation for Marilyn Manson, his music, his art, and his concepts.

I watched video after video, losing track of time, until the guys finally came back on the bus.  I checked the time on the player before pulling the headphones out of my ears.  1:47 am.  I yawned as Jared flopped down on his back next to me and laid his head in my lap.  He looked up at me, mischief filling his sparkling eyes.

“Where are we going now?” I asked.

He pressed his lips together, refusing to answer.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Nobody says a fucking word,” Jared said.

My heart started beating faster knowing he had something planned and I looked around at everyone else.  But they shook their heads and wouldn’t say anything.

I pushed Jared’s head out of my lap, trying to punish him for keeping something from me.  I got up and got a can of Dr. Pepper.  If something was going to happen, I needed energy.

Not too long after that, we pulled into a parking lot.  Jared pushed me off of the bus and jumped out behind me.  He grabbed my hand and started leading me towards the edge of the lot.  It was dark.  I couldn’t see anything and I was wondering where Shannon, Matt, and Tomo were doing.  They hadn’t followed us. 

We suddenly stopped and Jared said, “Take off your shoes.”

“What?”

“Take off your shoes,” he said again.

Puzzled, I did as he said before he started pulling me again.  I don’t know how he knew where we were going, my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the night yet.  I felt wood under my feet and then sand before we suddenly turned a corner.  We were on the beach.

Shannon, Matt, and Tomo were standing around a large fire.  I froze, not sure if I should believe my eyes or not.  I looked over at Jared and he was watching me, waiting for me to make a move.  I gave him a warning look.

“It’s not for your birthday,” he said quickly.  “It’s just for us, for fun.  Something different.”

I relaxed and let go of his hand, taking off towards the fire.  He chased after me, but I was faster on the sand than he was.  I collapsed on a blanket when I reached the fire, my breath ragged, and looked out at the ocean.  It was dark, but I could still make out some of the waves.

I looked around and my eyes landed on a cooler and a stack of something covered by another blanket.  Curiosity gripping me, I moved over to the pile, but Shannon sat down on top of it before I could pull the blanket off.  He gave me a menacing look.

“What is it with you guys and your fucking mysteries?” I asked, looking around at all of them.  Once again, nobody said anything.

I gave up and walked over to the cover, lifting the lid to examine the contents.  My eyes landed on Smirnoff.  Delicious.  Jared wasn’t always big on drinking, but the rest of the guys were.  Thankfully.  I pulled one out and sat next to Jared, close to the fire.  He brought one of his acoustic guitars out from somewhere behind him.  I hadn’t even noticed it before.  He started messing around with chord progressions, picking out notes here and there, letting out the almost constant stream of music that ran through his head.

We laid around for over an hour before Shannon began whispering to Matt and Tomo.  My ears perked up as I strained to hear them on the other side of the fire.  They got up and moved to the pile that Shannon had sat on earlier, keeping me from seeing.  The pulled the blanket off and picked up whatever it was, but their bodies were still blocking my view.  I looked at Jared for an explanation, but he once again refused to say anything.  Frustrated, I watched as they moved out of the light of the fire, into the shadows where I could no longer see.

It was silent for nearly five minutes when a loud whistle filled the air.  I jumped, my brain not registering the familiar sound until there was an explosion over our heads.  I looked back at Jared, amazed.  He lay down with a blanket folded under his head before pulling my head down onto his chest.

“It’s the 4^th of July we never had,” he said quietly.

“You’re......unbelievable,” I said before the next explosion above us.

I heard Matt, Shannon, and Tomo yelling and laughing as they set the fireworks off.  I watched the different colors bursting into the sky, following the glowing embers as they fell to the beach.  Fireworks were the best part of the 4^th, but I had managed to forget all about it this year.

Finally, they emerged coughing from the smoke that had built up down the beach, their arms waving in front of them.

“What did ya think?” Shannon asked as they approached.

Sitting up, I said, “You guys are fucking amazing.  That was awesome.”

They all looked pleased with themselves.  “We are amazing, aren’t we?” Tomo said.

I reached over Jared and picked up his guitar as they all got a drink.  He blinked sleepily, watching me as I moved, but waking up a bit when he saw the guitar in my hands.

“Play for us,” he said.

I scrunched up my nose and shook my head.  “I don’t think so.”

“Oh come on,” I heard Shannon say.

“Yeah, we play for you almost every night,” Matt chimed in.

I looked back at Jared.  “Play the song you played the night we met,” Jared said.

“No way,” I said, embarrassed he even remembered.  I didn’t like playing that song on the guitar, it fit much better on the piano.

Jared leaned over and whispered in my ear.  “Forget they’re here.  Will you play for me?”

I looked down and studied the surface of the guitar, watching the glow change as the flames danced in front of me.

I relaxed, blocking everything out except his hand placed firmly on my lower back, reassuring.

Being without a pick, I placed my fingers on the frets, finding the first chord, and ran my right hand over the strings, testing the sound before starting.

A brain that never stops ticking,
Sometimes an on-off switch would sure come in handy
A mind that's constantly cutting up and dissecting,
Looking for answers, committing murders along the way

Is it the red wire, or the blue wire
Just pick one and cut, it just doesn't matter anymore
Or did it ever, cause I could never control
When the bomb would explode
Oh god I love you, I mean forever
I left my body behind to break the news
Looks like it's over, please remember
All of the things I never got a chance to say
Like you look smashing in your fourth grade picture,
The one that we hung by the door,
In our house that was so beautiful
Yeah, here in our little home
If this medication upsets your stomach,
Take it with crackers, bread, or a small meal
We understand it won't do shit towards a cure
But if you buy this, I promise you're gonna like
The way it makes you feel
Is it the red wire, or the blue wire
Just pick one and cut, it just doesn't matter anymore
Or did it ever, cause I could never control
When the bomb would explode
Oh god I love you, I mean forever
I left my body behind to break the news
Looks like it's over, please remember
All of the things I never got a chance to say
Like you look smashing in your fourth grade picture,
The one that we hung by the door,
In our house that was so beautiful
Yeah, here in our little home.
Our little home, nobody knows,
Our little home, nobody knows what goes on
Our little home.

My voice got stronger as the song went on.  I played the entire thing without looking at anyone, focusing instead on the fire in front of me.  I had never played for anyone other than Jared before and my nerves were a mess.  It felt foolish being nervous, but it was a reflex I couldn’t control.

Finishing, I was met with enthusiastic applause.  Jared pulled me back against him and kissed my neck as I blushed and looked up at everyone.

“Damn, your good,” Tomo said.

“Yeah, you should play with us sometime,” Shannon added.

I shook my head.  “I don’t think so, but thanks.”

“Whatever, your choice,” Matt said.  “But you should really consider it.  Jared, talk her into it!”

“I’ll try my best boys,” I heard behind me.

“Have you written anything?” Shannon asked.

“Sort of...”

“What the hell does that mean?”

I paused, not sure how to answer.  “I’ve written songs, you know?  Like melodies, harmonies, chords and everything.  But never any words.  And mostly on piano.”

“Damn, too bad we don’t have a piano,” he said.  A chorus of agreement followed.  Personally, I was thankful there wasn’t a piano.

Jared saved me by pointing out that it was late, or really early, and they had another show that night.  We unwillingly packed up the blankets and cooler, not wanting this break from the bus to be over.  But I was exhausted and ready for everybody to go to sleep and hopefully forget my little performance.

Jared and I were last in line to board the bus.  He pulled me against him before we got on.

“Thanks for singing,” he said, and kissed me.

“Yeah, well, don’t expect it to happen very often.”

I pinched his side and wriggled out of his grip before he could say anything, jumping onto the bus ahead of him, ready for sleep.

Warning: Rated R
That's all I have to say.

 

We slept straight through to the next morning, 24 hours.  The past few days had been exhausting for both of us and the rest was greatly needed.

That next day, we got up and I registered the Prius in my name, switching the plates and everything I needed to do to drive it.  We met Charlie and Kiera for lunch, and then we spent the rest of the day with Sarah, Eva, and Kevin.  It was our last day in Buffalo before we headed back to LA, so they took off work to see me.  It had been months since I last saw them and it was amazing spending time with them again.  We didn’t go anywhere special, just hung around at Kevin’s house for the late afternoon and into the night.  I had a beer and was tempted to have another.  Jared didn’t say anything, he didn’t even seem bothered, but I remembered again his text message that night at Quote and I decided against it.  I didn’t have a reason to drown in the bottom of a bottle anymore.

Around 1:00, I reluctantly said goodbye to my best friends and Jared and I went out into the warm late-night/early-morning air, walking the four blocks back to my apartment.

We had gotten up the next morning, cleaned out the refrigerator, and then started driving.  We had decided to drive back to LA.  I would have a car there then, but we mostly just wanted to spend more time together before we had to face life, the real world, and the people waiting for us back in California.

After that night at Dunkirk, I was able to talk about my mom.  Any lingering resentment and pain gradually went away and I told Jared about her and our life together.  I told him about all of the disapproving things she had said to me, the ways she had hurt me, but I also shared the happy family vacations, the school concerts she had been to, and all of the birthday parties she had thrown.  It felt good to talk, especially to him, and to get everything out in the open so it was no longer bouncing around the walls of my brain. 

We didn’t do much site-seeing as we drove.  We stayed at small motels along the way, stopping late at night and getting up early.  I called Charlie every now and then like I told him I would.  He was happy with how happy I was, and he thankfully didn’t say anything about my relationship with Jared or about the age difference.  And Jared called LA every day.  Some days he called his mom and some days he called Shannon.  When he called his mom, he tried to do it at a gas station or when we got to the hotel, always out of my earshot, but sometimes I overheard.  He thought the fact that he could still talk to his mom while mine was no longer here would upset me, but it didn’t.  I was happy for him, glad he had such a good relationship with her.  I liked knowing he still talked to her, that their relationship was functional.  I had learned that nobody deserved to have anything less.

- - -

Since Jared had been back in Buffalo and then driving across the country with me, the band hadn’t had very much time to practice.  They debated pushing the start of their tour back two weeks, but didn’t want to have to reschedule dates and possibly anger some fans.  I felt bad knowing that I had asked Jared to go with me back to Buffalo, that it was my fault they hadn’t had a lot of practices, but Jared said they would be ready for the tour, and he wouldn’t let me take the blame.

It was one week before the tour would kick off in San Diego.  Jared came home from practice at Shannon’s house, having gone without me.  He had left before I was even awake.  He brought the mail in with him and set it on the couch next to me before sitting down and sorting through it.  I turned back to my computer to finish checking my email when an envelope was dropped in my lap.  It was addressed to me with Sarah’s return address in the corner.  Judging by the shape of the envelope, I knew what it was going to be before I opened it.  It was something Jared didn’t know about yet and I glanced over at him nervously before tearing open the envelope.

It was a birthday card.  Aside from the Happy Birthday message that came on the card, Sarah had written me a note.

Laura,

I know your birthday isn’t until August 13^th, but you will be on tour then and this card wouldn’t be able to find you.  I miss you so much and we’re all thinking about you.  I bought you something, but I want to give it to you when you get here in September.  Can’t wait to see you!

Love,

Sarah

I smiled softly at her words, missing her as well.  I had been looking forward to September ever since Jared had told me that Buffalo was a stop on the tour, and I couldn’t wait to see my friends again.

“What is it?” Jared asked, curiosity filling his voice.

I slowly handed it to him, wondering what his reaction would be.

He read it and smiled before turning back to me.  “Why didn’t you tell me about your birthday?”

I shrugged.  “I don’t know...it didn’t seem important.”  The truth was, it was going to be a hard birthday, the first one I wouldn’t spend with my mother, and I didn’t know if I was ready for that.  I wanted to forget the day, forget it was going to be my birthday, and not deal with the emotions.  But I didn’t want to tell Jared that.  Even thinking about it then, I could feel myself shift, feel myself withdraw, just a little, and I didn’t know why.

He must have sensed it.  He pulled me against him, trying to keep me with him.  I relaxed slightly and kissed him.

He let me go and finished going through the mail as I turned the card over in my hands.  I stood and went upstairs, placing it in the bottom of my bag in the corner of the closet, wanting to forget about it for a while.

When I returned downstairs, Jared was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, his laptop in front of him.  I walked past him into the music room and closed the door behind me.  I knew I wouldn’t disturb him, he had headphones in.  I assumed he was listening to the recording from their practice earlier that day.

I stood looking around before deciding what to do.  I sat down in front of the piano and rubbed my palms up and down my legs, hearing a familiar melody forming in my head.

I closed my eyes, letting my fingers find the keys they knew so well.  I had played this countless times and each note, each chord change, was engrained in my mind.  I had written it, every part.  Melody, harmonies, and an accompaniment were all there.  The only thing missing was lyrics.  I had no problem writing a song, I had written several over the years, but I had never had the courage to write words to any of them.

I finished the song and sat while my heartbeat slowed and I came back to reality.  Playing that song had always been soothing, and sense of calm settled around me.

After that, I made a mistake.  I stood and picked up my guitar.  Trying to decide what to play, I let my mind go, let my thoughts wander where they needed to go.  And they turned to Jared.

I started playing a procession of Bright Eyes songs, moving seamlessly from one to the next, letting Conor Oberst’s beautifully written words fill the air.

I moved from Landlocked Blues, Sunrise, Sunset, and Haligh, Haligh, a Lie, Haligh to Waste of Paint.  My mood and emotions shifting with the change of each song.  Tears began falling as I sang Waste of Paint, the calm from the song I had written and played on the piano completely disappearing.  I took the song slowly, letting each word sink in.

I have a friend, he's mostly made of pain. He wakes up, drives to work,
and then straight back home again. He once cut one of my nightmares out of paper.
I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a record cover.
And I tried to tell him he had a sense of color and composition so magnificent.
And he said "Thank you, please but your flattery is truly not becoming me.
Your eyes are poor. You are blind. You see, no beauty could have come from me.
I am a waste of breath, of space, of time."
I knew a woman, she was dignified and true. Her love for her man was one of her many virtues.
Until one day, she found out that he had lied and she decided the rest of her life,
from that point on would be a lie. But she was grateful for everything that had happened.
And she was anxious for all that would come next. But then she wept.
What did you expect? In that big, old house with the cars she kept.
"Oh!" and "such is life," she often said. With one day leading to the next,
you get a little closer to your death, which was fine with her.
She never got upset and with all the days she may have left,
she would never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best.
She was free to waste away alone.
Last night, my brother he got drunk and drove. And this cop pulled him off to the side of the road.
And he said, "Officer! Officer! You have got the wrong man.
No, no, I'm a student of medicine, the son of a banker, you don't understand!"
The cop said, "No one got hurt, you should be thankful. And your carelessness,
it is something awful. And no, I can't just let you go. And though your father's name is known,
your decisions now are yours alone. You're nothing but a stepping stone
on a path to debt, to loss, to shame."
The last few months I have been living with this couple.
Yeah, you know, the kind who buy everything in doubles. They fit together, like a puzzle.
And I love their love and I am thankful that someone actually
receives the prize that was promised by all those fairy tales that drugged us.
And they still do me. I'm sick, lonely, no laurel tree, just green envy.
Will my number come up eventually? Like Love is some kind of lottery,
where you can scratch and see what is underneath. It's "Sorry",
just one cherry, "Play Again." Get lucky.
So I have been hanging out down by the train's depot. No, I don't ride.
I just sit and watch the people there. And they remind me of wind up cars in motion.
The way they spin and turn and jockey for positions.
And I want to scream out that it all is nonsense.
All your lives one track, can't you see it's pointless?
But then, my knees give under me. My head feels weak and
suddenly it is clear to see that it is not them but me, who has lost my self-identity.
As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my poetry,
like art could save a wretch like me, with some ideal ideology that no one can hope to achieve.
And I am never real; it is just a sketch of me.
And everything I made is trite and cheap and a waste of paint, of tape, of time.
So now I park my car down my the cathedral, where floodlights point up at the steeples.
Choir practice was filling up with people. I hear the sound escaping as an echo.
Sloping off the ceiling at an angle. When voices blend they sound like angels.
I hope there is some room still in the middle.
But when I lift my voice up now to reach them. The range is too high, way up in heaven.
So I hold my tongue, forget the song, tie my shoe and start walking off.
And try to just keep moving on, with my broken heart and my absent God
and I have no faith but it is all I want, to be loved and believe in my soul, in my soul...

I stopped and wiped my eyes, the second half of the song making my tears fall harder but for reasons I didn’t want to examine.

I was about to play Going for the Gold when I looked up and saw Jared standing at the door.  His brow was furrowed and he had a pained look on his face.  I could read his thoughts; he was trying to figure out what I was thinking, why I was crying, and why I insisted on doing this to myself time and time again.

I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, my guitar in my lap.  He lifted it and set it back in its stand before sitting down to face me.

“I wish you could talk to me,” he said, desperation filling his words.  He reached out and clasped my hands in his.  “I’m worried about you.  Why do you do this?”

I shook my head and tried to speak, simultaneously trying to hold back another stream of tears, but it was to no avail.  A few silently slid down my face as I squeezed my eyes shut, willing them to stop.  I didn’t know why I did it.  I wasn’t cutting or drinking or taking pills, but it seemed to be just as damaging.  Music had always been my escape, my way of dealing.  But lately it was upsetting.

“I miss her,” I whispered.  I couldn’t understand it.  I had never missed her when she was alive, but I missed her now.  I missed her so much it hurt, and all I wanted was for my birthday to disappear, to forget it existed.  I had been okay until I remembered the day was coming.  I thought I had let her go at Dunkirk, I thought I had moved on.  But my feelings had a way of deceiving me like that.

“I know,” he said helplessly.  He released one of my hands and reached up to wipe away my tears.  He didn’t move, didn’t say anything, knowing there was something more.  And there was, but I didn’t know how to say it.  After everything that had happened with my mom, I was terrified of losing him.  After you lose one person you love, you become afraid of losing other people you love, but it had started before that.  He had told me I was beautiful, he had told me he loved me over and over again and I had said the same to him, but I couldn’t make myself believe that it was all real.  I couldn’t make myself let go of the fear and it was beginning to take over.  I hadn’t realized it, but it was slowly happening.  It was why I had pulled back from him that night in bed and why I hadn’t let him go further after that.  Getting that close to fully being together scared me and sent me into this spiral.  But it needed to end.  I needed to tell him everything.

I wordlessly moved to my guitar again and sat back down with him across from me, and I played one last song, putting all of my emotions into Conor Oberst’s words.  Rejecting Going for the Gold, I thought of Touch and began.

Touch, lying on the floor
Wishing this could last
But knowing that it can't
And soon you will leave
And I will be on the floor,
Watching the TV, trying hard to find a reason to move.
I'm frozen in one place, staring at the screen,
Listening to the rain falling on the street
Some days go on too long
And no one can hang out tonight
Here, where the carpet is cool and soft,
Underneath the clock I feel my weary heart is put to rest
You gather around your friends
The connection that you feel when the night has not yet died
You are new with a promise of a love
You will probably never find
And touch that you can really feel
The brokenness inside as hope and less collide
Now nothing is real.

I felt tears forming in my eyes again as I sang the lines.  I was unable to look at Jared.  I knew this song was displaying all of my insecurities and all of my fears.  I let all of my walls fall and exposed what I was feeling.  I could communicate through the song; I just couldn’t speak the words myself.
(You are new and near now to someone you used to love
When you were young; when all was gold and you two touched
And felt the flutter underneath your skin. you stood in glowing rooms,
The light dripping from both of you.
And nothing since has felt as radiant or real.)
And there is nothing more I want than just one night
That's free of doubt and sadness
One night that I can really feel.

In the last three lines, I looked into his eyes, singing directly to him.  I watched as his face turned from confused to understanding.  I broke as I realized he now knew everything I was feeling.  There was no way to take it back and I felt unbelievably vulnerable.  My walls flew back up but it was too late.  My grip tightened on the guitar as I braced myself for his touch, his attempt to comfort me and answer my feelings, everything I had told him through the songs.  I was confused, I didn’t know what to feel.  I thought I should be relieved.  Part of me wanted to be relieved, but I wasn’t strong enough to fight against my reflexes that kept me pulling away.

Powerless, I watched as he pulled the guitar from my grip and set it next to us on the floor.

“I love you.  I’m not going to leave you.  I love you,” he said as he folded me into his arms.

I closed my eyes and focused on his voice, on his touch.  As afraid as I was, I depended on it.  I feared losing him, but I counted on him for so many things.

My thoughts were going in circles and I forced myself to take deep breaths.

I didn’t know how much time had passed, but having finally calmed and relaxed enough to focus on damage control, I spoke.  “Fuck.  I’m a mess.”  I tried laughing but choked instead.  I thought maybe I could dismiss the entire thing but I should’ve known better.

He lifted me off his chest and held my shoulders.  His eyes probed mine, seeing into me and for once, seeing through the walls that had flown back into place.

“I love you,” he said again.  The words pierced the guard I had put up and I lowered it, allowing him to continue, letting him know I was really listening.  “There’s nothing in the world that is going to change that.  I don’t want to lose you either.  And I’m not going anywhere.”

I nodded my head and allowed myself to believe him like I had done the last time we were in this room alone together, when I had let myself believe his words of ‘You’re beautiful.’ 

“I love you too,” I said, and dropped my voice to a whisper.  “More than you could ever know.”

As he pulled me to him and kissed me, sealing our words, my thoughts turned back to that night in bed we had gotten so close.  A secure feeling of control and stability washed over me. 

I pulled away from him and rose, leading him towards the door.  As we reached the stairs, he realized where we were going.  He stopped, forcing me to look at him, and asked “Are you sure?”

I couldn’t have been more sure.  “’And there is nothing more I want than just one night that’s free of doubt and sadness, one night that I can really feel’,” I quoted.  I continued the rest of the way up the stairs, listening to his steady footsteps behind me.

We reached the bedroom and I pushed him up against the closed door, pressing my lips against his.  His hands found my hips and he took over, moving me backwards towards the bed.  I immediately lost touch with our surroundings.  My senses came alive, registering his touch, my body pushing against him in response.  He laid me down on the bed before moving on top of me, his hands not leaving my hips until that moment.  He laced his fingers through mine and extended my arm out above my head, pinning it against the pillow as my other hand ran along his back, feeling the muscles through his shirt.  He released me and his hands found my hips again, sliding slowly under my shirt.  His hands were warm and I focused on his touch as my fingers dug into his back, simultaneously pulling him harder against me as I pushed harder against him.

His hands disappeared and when his lips left mine, I focused my gaze and looked up at him.  There was mild concern in his eyes and he asked, “Are you okay?”  His breathing was ragged and heavy, matching mine, and I could almost hear his heart racing in his chest.  I looked into his eyes, remembering.  It was over a year since anyone had gotten this close to me, and only one person ever had.  Matt, the last summer at Dunkirk, the last summer before Jared and before my mom died.  I forced myself to push the thoughts away and I came back to the present.

“I am so much more than okay,” I said softly and pulled his shirt over his head.

Reassured, his lips found mine again and he was in control.  He was pushing against my jeans as his hands found the hem of my shirt again.  Our kiss broke as he lifted my back off the mattress, slipping it off.  Our lips connected again and I ran my fingers over his abdomen, finding his jeans.  His lips pushed forcefully against mine as I undid the button and pulled at the zipper.  I began to pull at the fabric but he didn’t let me finish, his hands unbuttoning my jeans distracting me.  His hands moved down my hips, sliding under the fabric and down my thighs.  My body shifted.  I was no longer completely aware of what was going on.  I felt only his touch moving across my body.

His lips left mine and I opened my eyes, looking into his again.  He was just checking, one last time. 

And then we came together, the once familiar feeling of being one with another person gripping my senses.

I bit my lip as both pain and immense pleasure coursed through my body, a moan escaping my mouth.  His lips found mine again and my body shook as pleasure overtook the pain. 

I felt him climax as I followed closely behind.  Feeling the intensity of the peak, my fingers dug into his back again and I pulled him even harder against me, not wanting it to end. 

We didn’t move as we waited for the feelings to ebb. 

I slowly loosened my grip on his back and sank into the mattress.  He laid down, half next to me and half on top of me.  I enjoyed the weight of his body, the feel of his naked skin against mine.  I slid down, my head level with his chest, and listened to his heartbeat as it slowed. 

When it had, he reached down and pulled me back up to his level.  He needed to see me, to look into me again, and make sure I was okay.

And I was.  At that moment in time, the fear was gone.  Everything I had felt before on the floor of the music room had disappeared.  And I knew I wasn’t going to lose him.

And at that moment, nothing anybody did or said could have changed that.

- - -

I woke up before Jared did.  Laying there, watching him, I thought of everything that had happened.  I searched myself, looking for signs of regret, but found none.  I was half expecting it; it was what I had felt after Matt, but I should’ve known it would be different with Jared.  It was breathtaking with Jared.  I went over everything in my mind, remembering the intensity we shared.  Jared stirred against me, bringing me out of my trance.

He smiled sleepily at me and yawned.  “What time is it?”

I looked over his shoulder at the clock.  “7:00.”

He frowned.  “Morning or night?”

“Night.”

“How are you?” he asked, concern showing in his face again.

“I’m......perfect,” I said and rested my head happily against his chest again.

“You got that right,” he said and kissed the top of my head.  “Let’s go out.”

“Out?”  I wasn’t sure I wanted to go out, I didn’t even want to move from where we were and ruin the magic of that afternoon.

“Yeah, out.”

I moved closer against him, letting the warmth of his body envelope me.

“If you don’t want to...” he began.  I truthfully couldn’t decide if I wanted to or not, but he did and I could hear it in his voice.  It’s not like I would have been able to sleep anymore anyway.

I pulled back and looked at him.  “Let’s go,” I said.

Joy spread across his face.  There was somewhere specific he wanted to take me.

I slowly untangled my legs from his and crawled out from under the covers.  I bent down and pulled his shirt over my head.  “Where are we going?” I asked as I moved around the bed towards the bathroom.  He watched me, his eyes traveling the length of my body as I walked.  I blushed and asked again.

“A club,” he said before I stepped inside and closed the bathroom door behind me.

I wrapped a towel around me after shutting off the water and went back into the bedroom.  Jared hadn’t moved.  He was still lying in bed, the sheet barely covering him.  He had been staring intently at the ceiling, deep in thought.  I couldn’t tell what he was thinking about and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.  He snapped out of it as I entered the room again.  He rose from the bed and pulled me against him for a quick kiss before going to take a shower himself.

I stood in the closet for a moment, trying to decide what to wear.  I had no idea.

I finally pulled on a light denim skirt and my black corset, sliding the satin straps onto my shoulders.  I curled in a chair and waited for Jared to finish in the bathroom so I could finish getting ready, not bothering to travel downstairs to the other bathroom.

When he exited, I darted back inside before he could see what I was wearing, not wanting him to see until it was the finished product.  I don’t know why, it was just a habit I had.  I heard him laughing on the other side of the door as I looked at my reflection.  I blow-dried and straightened, leaving it down and clipping my bangs loosely to the side.  I studied the fairly new red streaks I had put in in place of the blonde that had been there before.  I still hadn’t decided if I liked it or not.  I took my contacts out and rinsed them before putting them back in.  I had been wearing them all week, but they hadn’t started to bother my eyes yet.  I stayed simple with the make-up, just eyeliner and mascara.

Jared was standing in front of the full-length mirror when I entered the room again, applying his own eyeliner.  He was wearing his customary black pants, but he had on the dark red shirt with the black and red striped vest he had bought the day we went out shopping.  He turned and smiled at me as he caught my reflection in the mirror.

“Fuck, you look amazing,” he said.

“Fuck, so do you,” I said laughing.  I slipped on a pair of black heels.  I examined my reflection next to him and realized something was missing.  I walked over to the table in the corner and lifted a black square jewelry box.  After returning to LA, I had taken the two rings my mother had left me to a jeweler and had them made into one ring; the ruby in the center with a diamond on either side in a silver setting.  I left it in my mother’s ring size, too small for me, and instead bought a simple silver chain.  Now, I lifted the chain out of the box and fastened it around my neck, the ring falling down to the center of my chest, just above the top of my corset.  I fingered the ring for a few moments, letting myself miss her.  I looked up and Jared was snapping the leather wristband around his left wrist, the silver symbols catching the light.  I walked over and ran my fingers over them, remembering the night we had exchanged gifts, before I pulled his head down to mine and softly kissing him.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

I grabbed my white jacket before following him down the stairs and out to his car.

We pulled up in front of a club I had never heard of.  It must have been popular with celebrities, there was a mini red carpet leading from the sidewalk to the door and there were photographers and paparazzi standing outside.  I immediately sat up straighter, my nerves on edge.  I hadn’t had to deal with that many photographers in the past, and Jared and I had kept our distance when they were around, not wanting his personal life displayed to the world.

“Are you ready to be known?” he asked.

I had barely heard him.  “What?”

“Are you ready to be in the tabloids?”

Unsure, I looked back and forth between him and the cameras which were now moving closer to the car.

“Are you ready?” he asked again.

He seemed confident, so I nodded my head.  He leaned over and kissed me.  Completely surprised, I closed my eyes as cameras flashed and the noise outside the car grew.  It seemed completely out of character for him, such a private person, exposing this much to the press.  He pulled back and grinned at me before opening his door.  I did the same and stepped out into the night air.

He met me around the front of the car and grabbed my right hand in his left.  He pulled me tight against him, trying to protect me from reporters and cameras.  He didn’t answer any questions, but he was very gracious, saying hello to the cameras and stopping to sign a few autographs, never once letting go of my hand.

If I had had any doubts even after we had been together earlier that day, they disappeared again.  He was showing the world who I was, and for him to do that meant it was serious.

He looked me in the eyes as we entered the club and I knew he had done it for me.  And I loved him.

 

I don't really like the ending of this chapter, but whatever.  <33