to everyone that read, reviewed and bugged me for updates. thank you <3

21.

It rains the next day. You sit in your bedroom silently packing everything back into the shoebox. You stayed here late the night before, until Brad insisted he drive you back to his place. Eyes linger on the photos for perhaps longer than is necessary as Brad moves about downstairs taping up boxes and humming along to the radio. He’s still insisting you stay, telling you every five minutes that your plane ticket will be valid for another month so you don’t have to go right now. The more he says it, the more you realise how empty life is going to be without him as well.

Which, you realise, is pretty fucking pathetic. The two people who have fucked you over more than you care to think about are the two people who you don’t really want to face the world without.

A sharp pain stabs in your chest and you sigh, reaching up to rub your sore ribs with your hand. You lean back to reach the bottle of pills sitting on your nightstand and pop two of them out into your free hand.

That hotel room; the bathtub; the frantic tears; they don’t cease from entering your mind as you get up and head to the bathroom for some water. You pause as you reach the sink, unintentionally glancing in the mirror above the porcelain basin. These days you have cheekbones and deathly pale skin. Had anyone said you’d ever have visible cheekbones you would have laughed in their faces.

You glance down and pour water into a glass, ramming the pills into your mouth and swallowing them as fast as humanly possible. This, you think glumly to yourself as you sit down on the wooden chair beside the bath, is becoming a bit of a habit. Soaring pain in chest; chomping down painkillers; feeling breathless and dizzy.

This, however, is the first time you pass out and when you come to, you realise there is no way Brad is going to let you get on an aeroplane tomorrow without one hell of a fucking fight.

+

“I’m fine,” You croak out from where you’re curled up on your couch.

Brad is fussing around you, telling you how you’ve still not recovered and how he’s been letting you do way too much.

“You’re not fine,” He sighs, finally sitting down on the arm of the sofa, “You’re far from fine.”

“I just passed out for a couple of seconds…”

“You were out cold for five minutes,” Brad interrupts, waving his hands in annoyance, “Mike you…”

“I’m fine,” You whisper, “I’m… I just want to sleep for a bit.”

“You can’t go tomorrow. Mike?”

“What?” You sigh, absently chewing on your fingernail.

“Why don’t you stay a little longer? You could fly out when you’re feeling better.”

“Honestly Brad?” You glance up from scrutinizing your gnawed fingernails, “I don’t think I’m going to get better.”

Brad frowns, moves and sits down on the coffee table. He presses his hands together and stares right at you.

“Don’t talk like that,” He continues to frown, “You’ll get through this, you just need to take some time and stop rushing to get away.”

“I don’t really want to go,” You sigh.

“Really?” Brad starts to smile.

“No,” You shake your head, “I want things to go back to how they were. I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

Brad sighs. You hate the look he gives you. It’s a look of pity, followed by him leaning forward and squeezing your hands. Funny how he never treated you this way before. Funny how he makes you feel like something fragile, something so easily broken yet not so easily fixed. Funny how he makes you feel like a china doll.

“Then stay,” He whispers, “Stay and we can make things okay again…”

“Don’t be stupid Brad,” You sigh sadly, “There is no way that can happen.”

“How do you know huh? You’re just willing to up and leave and run away from everything? And what about the band Mike? What about your friends?”

You knew it would come back to this, you were just waiting for it. You sigh and shift, sit up on the couch and run a hand over your head.

“Brad, there is no Linkin Park as far as I’m concerned.”

You hate the way Brad’s face crumbles. You hate the gulp he takes; the tears that start to well up in the corners of his eyes and the way his bottom lip trembles. You hate that lately all Brad seems to have done is cry. It breaks your heart but there’s no way you’re ever going to let him know that.

“And besides,” You pause, “Friends? I wasn’t aware of any of them being around for the past six months,” You shrug, feeling a sting in your heart after the words leave your lips.

You feel like a complete bastard for saying this yet part of you feels like you deserve the fucking right to point these things out. You’ve felt nothing but guilt ever since this started yet why? Is this really any of your fucking fault anymore? You sigh when Brad doesn’t answer.

“Where were you Brad?” You continue, “Where were any of you when I was getting raped and beaten and played about? Where were you when I called you that night from the hospital begging you to come over, to talk to me?”

“Mike… Please… It wasn’t as straightforward as this. We had no idea this was going on…”

“Yeah but you were all to keen to believe Chester’s fucked up lies, weren’t you? You never even gave me a chance.”

“Mike, I’ve apologised for that!”

“Yeah? What about the others? Where have they been lately? I don’t recall seeing them…”

“They’re just scared.”

“Scared?”

“Yeah, scared of what things will be like between us all… It’s hard for them, for us…”

“You’re scared?” You swallow in disbelief, “You don’t know what it’s like to be scared.”

“Mike we do and…”

“No,” You shake your head, “Being scared is when you’re too frightened to open your eyes in the morning for fear that your so called boyfriend is lying beside you with a gun or a knife or just plain there. Being scared is when you can’t go through the day without having a panic attack or crying yourself to sleep. Being scared is when you climb into a bathtub, slash your wrists and hope that you don’t ever wake up again.”

Brad doesn’t answer.

“And I’m sorry but I can’t be around you or any of the band anymore,” You spit, getting to your feet.

“So what? You’re gonna make us feel guilty for the rest of our lives?”

You pause in your walk to the kitchen, “You think that’s what this is about?” You shout angrily, swinging around to face Brad, “You think I’m walking away from you all to hurt you?”

Brad shrugs.

“I can’t believe you… I thought,” You stop and clear your throat, “I always thought if there was one person in the world who knew me inside out then it was you…”

“So, why couldn’t you tell me you were gay?”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“It is Mike. If you’d had been honest from the start, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Suddenly you realise it works both ways. Brad doesn’t know you anymore and you certainly don’t know him.

“So it’s my fault?”

“…”

You turn away. You don’t want him to see you cry; don’t want his hypocritical acts of comfort. You walk toward the kitchen, pausing in the doorway.

“I think we’re both guilty of not knowing one another anymore,” You tell him, “Maybe this time apart is inevitable.”

+

LAX airport. Hot, busy and overcrowded. You eye your ticket and passport in the palm of your hand one last time before pushing them firmly into the back pocket of your jeans. On the floor in front of you sits one suitcase, zipped shut and concealing the only belongings you cared to take with you in what your mind has labelled ‘part two’ of your life. Strapped across your back is your ever-faithful Eastpak, crammed with your cd player, medication and a few books.

And in front of you stand Brad, Rob, Phoenix and Joe.

“So,” Rob smiles, punching you gently on the arm, “We get postcards right?”

You smile, “I guess so.”

“Postcards?” Joe shakes his head, “Dude, if you have time to write postcards when you’re over there then shame on you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Phoenix laughs, “He’s supposed to be chilling out…”

“Yeah but he’s going to Greece man. Think of the views, the rays to catch, the food to eat the souvenirs to bring back for me,” He winks.

“You make it sound like some sort of heaven,” Rob muses, “Mike? Is there room in your suitcase for me?”

You smile sadly, catch a lady out of the corner of your eye who is struggling with her pink spotted suitcases as she stumbles past in too-high stilettos. A scream makes you jump and you spin around just as a group of teenagers run past, their laughs and shouts drumming into your heartbeat.

“Hey man, you okay?”

You turn to Phoenix who rests his hand on your shoulder and nod before bending down and looping your hand through the handle of your suitcase.

“I should get going,” You nod.

“Already?” Rob tilts his head, “Your flight won’t get called for a while. Why don’t we go grab coffee until then?”

“I kind of want to go get settled so there’s no rushing about,” You shrug, trying to make this as painless as possible; tilting your gaze down to the floor so you don’t have to see the looks of disappointment in your friends eyes.

“Okay,” Joe sighs, “So I guess we’ll see you soon then?”

You look up and even though it’s a complete lie, you vaguely nod your head. Joe smiles and for a few moments no words are spoken; just the five of you in silence glancing nervously at the ceiling; the floor; the passers by who seem to be on mute. Then you take a deep breath and clear your throat, bursting the invisible bubble that had pulled itself around you all.

“Take care of each other,” Your voice echoes in your mind.

You feel Brad’s hand on your shoulder but edge away, “I have to go.”

“Okay man,” Joe nods, patting you on the back, “Don’t be a stranger.”

You smile sadly, catching everyone’s eyes as you glance around the group. You can’t bring yourself to hug them or tell them you’re sorry for fucking their lives up. You wish you could; you even wish you could stay or find it in you to fully forgive them. But sadly you can’t. And you think of how the past few months have been nothing but a tangled web of lies; lies to the people you once called your friends and better still, lies to yourself. The past few days you’ve bought you a lot of time to think and you’ve started to realise that you don’t even have the energy to bend the truth anymore.

So you glance around one more time and lift your suitcase from the floor. You feel them patting your back but whatever words tumble from their lips are lost behind Brad’s cries.

Walking away from them is one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do.

+

You sink into your seat, automatically sliding up the window shutter. You fasten your seatbelt and rest your arms either side of you. Knowing that you have nineteen hours to go, you figure you’re going to get comfy and hopefully catch some sleep. The plane begins to fill up around you and you snuggle against the window, pick up your book and start to read.

It’s a while before you realise you’re not actually taking any of the words in; just staring intently at each line before skimming over it again. Great, you think to yourself, you’ve only been on the plane for about ten minutes and are already restless. You absently wish you were panicking about the flight. Anything has to be better than this empty, uncomfortable cavity where your mind should be.

So you think how many times you’ve flown before yet how starkly different this feels without Joe turning around to engage you in conversation or Rob throwing peanuts at you and blaming it on Phoenix. A blinding pain hits your head and you wince, rub your fingers against your temple before opening your book again.

Funny how the more you try to take your mind off something, the more you think about it anyway. And once again the text in front of your eyes blurs and smudges into one big black square and sighing in defeat, you close the book and let it rest in your lap.

You start to think about your dad, wonder what he looks like these days; if you’ll even recognize him when he comes to meet you at the airport. You recall the enthusiasm in his words when you asked if you could go and live with him for a while. He said he spent less time working and more time relaxing these days but you’re not sure if you can picture that. Your dad was always so busy when you were a kid, always out on business or away in other countries. Something to do with timeshares in property; something you could and probably never will understand. In fact, thinking about it makes your head hurt.

A distraction is needed and so you gaze out of the window, watching the sun stretch itself out in the morning sky over the valleys. For a fleeting moment you realise you’re going to miss that view. You’re suddenly hit with the fact that you’ll probably never see it again and realise it’s fucking true about everything, isn’t it? You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

You feel tears pricking your eyes. You know you can come back but will you ever want to? Will you ever be able to force yourself to? You know you’re going to miss your friends like crazy, but is hanging onto the good times ever going to make you truly forget what they did to you?

Shit.

You’re crying as the Flight Attendant hushes everyone and begins to do the safety demonstration that you swear you know off by heart now. You rest your elbow against the armrest, turn to the window and shield your face from prying eyes as the seat beside you dips and someone sits down. The last thing you want is some fucking stranger asking if you’re okay and you stare vacantly out of the small window.

You somehow fall asleep just before take off, waking only a few minutes later as your stomach lurches and mind catches up with the fact that yes, you are in the sky in a metal box. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and realise you’re staring out of the window; chunks of sky and greenery floating beneath you.

Sitting up, you release your belt and press your face against the cool windowpane because no matter how many times you’ve been on an aeroplane it’ll never stop amazing you that you’re this high up. Joe and Phoenix in particular used to make fun of you for hours, jokingly likening you to a child because of the way you’d sit just like this; pressed against the tiny window, watching the buildings turn to matchboxes; the valleys into smudges of green poster paint and the clouds to giant sheets of cotton candy. Then Rob would stick up for you, tell you he found it endearing and pat you on the shoulder.

You sigh and turn away from the window. Where had Rob been when you needed him to stick up for you these past few weeks?

Grabbing your book, you turn to your page, eyes trying to hit the last line you recall actually absorbing when a familiar voice suddenly filters into your ears. At first you think you’re dreaming; then you think you’re just plain fucking crazy. Then it sounds again and your heart skips a beat.

“Wow, Chuck Palahniuk?”

You pause, whole body freezing. You literally cannot move.

Deep breaths.

You open your eyes. When they actually closed is beyond you. Your breath hitches in your throat, hands shake as you slowly lower your book; heart jumping when your eyes catch the flame painted arm which rests beside you.

Then you gaze around. Firstly through the window, to check that yes, this plane is thousands of feet up in the air. Secondly around said plane to check that yes, it is filled with passengers eating sandwiches and sipping on glasses of cheap wine.

Thirdly you look down to the hand that’s gently rubbing the inside of your thigh.

And finally you look up to his face. Raise your head slowly and stare open mouthed at his twinkling brown eyes; his lips which are turned up into a smile.

“Hi Mike,” Chester grins, “How’s it going?”

FIN.