Battling the Loss You Live For.

The party ended at around midnight-ish. We couldn’t go on for ages, as it was at the Eyeball Records house, and weren’t really allowed to be in here anyways. We only got to because Mikey worked here as an intern and pulled a few strings.
“W-where is s-she?! Sazz-ay!”
I turned my head, seeing a drunk Frank stumble around a few people, then his misted, intoxicated hazel eyes landing on mine.
“You’re out of it,” I muttered, standing up and grabbing his hand. He giggled hysterically, his head lolling back eerily.
“Sazzy?” I heard Mikey call. I scanned the room, still clutching Frank’s hand.
“Mikey? Where are you?” I called amongst the people, the room much emptier than before. There was only about thirty or so, rather than the fifty or so people.
“Hey… have you seen Gerard and-” he stopped, looking over at Frank, “shit, he’s gonna throw up,” he grabbed a bucket, used for the ice, and held it in front of Frank as he vomited violently into it.

“Ugh… I feel like shit,” Frank groaned, rolling his head to the side, facing me.
Last night was a little… hectic. Ray had to help me get Frank into the car, and I drove the half hour drive with Frank in the backseat, Ray sitting up front with me because it was pretty late and they were all fussy about ‘a pregnant chick driving to Irvington with a drunk in the back’. It did make me laugh, and I love those guys for looking out for me, especially Sophii and Nyona. They really made sure I had a good time at the party even though I wasn’t drinking, and because of that, they didn’t get drunk either.
“What happened?” Frank asked, breaking me out of the memories that came crashing around in my head.
“You got drunk and threw up,” I replied, shrugging the subject off. I didn’t really know what to make of it or what to say about it. I couldn’t stop him from drinking on his birthday, but it was kind of… weird. If Nyona and Sophii weren’t drinking, just for me… well, it didn’t matter.
“Shit… Sazzy, I’m really sorry,” he whispered, brushing my long fringe out of my eyes, his hand resting on my cheek.
“It doesn’t matter. I was kind of expecting it,” I replied, again, shrugging it off. He looked at me for a second, his forehead creased and his eyebrows scrunched.
“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, his hand still placed firmly on my cheek.
“Nothing,” I replied, moving his hand off my face then sitting up, throwing the covers off of me. He sat up, watching my every move as I got up and tied my hair into a ponytail, walking out of the room into the bathroom opposite.
It was in the bathroom that I broke down, crying silent sobs about the emptiness I felt inside.
“…Sazzy?” I heard his voice, small and lost, on the other side of the door. I could imagine how he was stood; with his right hand flat against the door, his head bowed down, listening for my reply. He’d still be in his boxers.
“I’m really sorry… I won’t get drunk again when you can’t, I promise…?”
“I-it’s not about t-that!” I cried, the lump that was lodged in my throat making me stutter. It was obvious I was crying.
“T-then why are you crying? Don’t cry… please, can you just come out?”
I looked over at the door, across from where I sat on the toilet seat. I got up, wiping away my ridiculous tears, ones that I hated so much at that moment. I slowly twisted the lock, letting the door creak open. In a split second, he’d wrapped his arms around me tightly, hugging me to him as I whimpered into his chest. His fingers trailed over my hair, still tied up.
“Please, just tell me,” he said, his arms squeezing me to him, his hands rubbing my back.
“I-I just feel s-so empty and a-alone,” I mumbled, ashamed at my pathetic and practically impossible excuse.
“Well… you’re not alone, and you’re not empty. I’m here, with you, and how can you be empty when you’re carrying Marilyn and Dymian inside of you?”
I laughed a little at his attempt to try and cheer me up, and he smiled meekly.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and I could hear his own voice shaking, “it’s my fault. It’s my entire fault.”
“How the f-fuck is it y-your fault?” I mumbled harshly, pulling away from his grasp slightly.
In that instant, I wished I had just shut the fuck up; I wished that I could re-wind time; I wished that I was stronger.
The look on his face made me feel like curling up into a corner and let the earth swallow me whole.
His beautiful, hazy and hung-over eyes were glazed with tears, unshed and clinging to his lashes. His bottom lip trembled slightly, like a baby’s would, and I just remember thinking how beautiful he looked.
“I should have never let you leave England.”