Up Against the Wall

I’m a wreck. Anyone with eyes or even a remote number of brain cells can see that. I’ve barely moved in days and the whole flat is starting to reek of alcohol. It’s getting so bad even I’m struggling to adapt to it, and I spend most of my time wasted nowadays. My breath probably stinks of the cheap vodka I’ve been drinking as a substitute for water these past few days. The taste is festering in my mouth and it gets stronger with every breath as I inhale the alcohol tainted air.

It’s all his fault I’m even in this mess. If he hadn’t of picked my hopes up, dragged them as high as he possibly could and then dropped them from around the height of Mount Everest, then none of this would have happened.
You see, about two months ago, I told Trace I loved him. Yes, the Trace Cyrus. And for a while, he went along with it. Told me he loved me too, and so on, so forth. Until he broke it off last month. Turned out he didn’t love me at all. I was just some experiment to him. It didn’t matter that I’ve been his best friend for years, oh no.
I haven’t let go of him. At least, not yet. Mainly because I can’t bring myself to. Instead, I’ve just let go of life itself. The only thing even trying to hold me down is my love for Trace. And even that’s only clinging to me with the thinnest of threads.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and shuffling in the flat, so I sat up and made an attempt to look slightly happy for whoever it was’ sake.

“Mason?” Anthony shouted, sticking his head around the doorway to the shithole I call my sitting room. He recoiled at the smell of stagnant vodka.

“Mm?” I replied absently, glancing at the doorway towards him.

“Trace has called an emergency band practice. He wants to talk to us all or something.” He explained, leaning on the doorframe.

“And you think I’m gonna go?” I asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow at him. He sighed, frowning slightly. Ooh, very scary Anthony, very scary.

“He said you’re going, whether you like it or not.” He sighed, smiling weakly.

“Ugh, fine.” I gave in, ‘cause I knew Ant would stop at nothing to get me to go “Just give me, like, half an hour or so to sort myself out.”

“’Kay.” He replied, standing up properly “I’ll see you in a while then.” He walked out, and a few moments later I heard a door slam shut.

I groaned as I stood up, rubbing my eyes before heading straight for the bathroom. I need to dispose of this vodka stench before I make any foray into a public place.

I caught sight of my reflection in the bathroom mirror as I passed it in order to get to the shower. Yuck. On three different levels. Trying to ignore the hideous image that is me, I undressed and jumped in the shower, letting the warm water rush over me. Feeling the water coat my cheeks reminded me of at the nights I’ve spent crying because of him. Not exactly something you want to remember just before you have to face him for the first time in nearly a month.

…

What to wear, what to wear? I asked myself as I hunted through my wardrobe, holding a towel around my waist with one hand. In the end I picked the first thing I laid my eyes on, ‘cause I was running out of time. Red skinny jeans and a tight white t shirt. That should make Trace feel suitably uncomfortable. I dried myself off and dressed again, before returning to the bathroom and grabbing the hairdryer. I plugged it in and flicked the switch, hot air blasting at my face. My hair was dry-ish within a few minutes, so I ran a brush through it lazily, a few annoying strands curling up on the right side of my mouth. I left them be and ran downstairs, pulling on black Converse but leaving them untied. I went back to the kitchen and found some gum in the cupboard. I shoved a stick in my mouth, trying to stop my breath smelling like a vodka junkie’s. I glanced at the front page of the paper. The weather forecast was printed on the front page. Sun. Surprise, surprise. When is it anything but sunny in Hollywood, for crying out loud! I picked up a hoodie on my way out, pulling it on as I threw open the front door. I ran down the few flights of stairs to the car park and glanced around, trying to remember where I’d parked the car. In the end I gave up searching and just pressed the button on the keys, forcing the lights to flash. Aha! Next to Mrs Pearson from upstairs’ mini. I dashed over and yanked the door open, sitting down in the driver’s seat and slamming the key into its slot. I revved the car, but not before I noticed a screwed up piece of paper on the dashboard. I picked it up and unfurled it, not quite remembering what it was. It was a picture of a heart - drawn in pink biro, by the looks of things - crossed out, with the words ‘You crossed your heart, I hope to die.’ written next to it, in my handwriting. Hmm. I must’ve done it when I was really, really upset with Trace. I pulled the seatbelt across my chest, hitting the acceleration pedal and jerking the car into life.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. How has he bounced back from the mess he was before in such a short space of time? Well, to be honest, I don’t know how I did it. I suppose it was a feeble attempt to unsettle Trace, which I doubt will work.

I pulled up into Trace’s driveway within a few minutes; we don’t live that far away from each other, and saw Ant’s head sticking out of the front door. He waved, stepping outside properly as I turned off the engine. I opened the door and got out, locking it quickly as Ant walked over to me.

“What took you?” He asked, tapping his foot on the concrete drive.

“This.” I said, gesturing at my outfit “I needed to make myself look less like an emo hobo.”

“Fair enough.” He replied, shrugging “Now get inside, Trace’s getting impatient.” I trudged after him as he headed inside and to Trace’s sitting room. Ant sat down on the sofa next to Blake, opposite Trace, but I didn’t sit, I just stood near Ant.

“Right we’re all here now, can we get on with this?” Blake whined, glaring at Trace “And this better be good, you woke me up.” Trace took off his sunglasses and shot Blake a sympathetic look. Goddammit, why does he insist on torturing me with his ridiculously beautiful eyes? They’re just so blue, and perfect… and everything mine aren’t.

“I need to talk to you guys about what happened last month…” He stared at me, and I could tell instantly what part of last month he was talking about. I gulped nervously, staring up at the patchy white ceiling of his sitting room. This was going to be Hell. He glanced over at me, meeting my gaze for all of two seconds before I continued to stare up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” He started slowly, flicking his gaze back to Ant and Blake “I don’t know if you two are aware, but two months ago, me and Mason… well, we started dating. And then we kinda split up last month, which is why he’s been sulking like a three year old.”

“Excuse me, but when was I “sulking”?” I demanded, air quoting around sulking “You broke my heart, am I supposed to act like nothing happened?”

“It’d have been nice…” He muttered, staring at the floor.

“Well pardon me for having feelings!” I retorted, getting more and more annoyed “I should’ve
known. You and your “little signs”.”

“What?” He said, standing up “You always used to say you could read me like a book.”

“That’s because sometimes you’re so goddamn obvious, you’re easier to read than a kindergartener’s book of first words!” I shouted back, blinking away tears. There’s no way I’m going to let him see me cry; that’s just admitting that he’s won.

“Mason,” He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets “I just wanted to apologize…” I laughed dryly, glaring at him.

“Don’t make me laugh.” I spat “You couldn’t give a shit.”

“Mason, just listen.” He shot back, flopping his fringe away from his eyes “I’m sorry, okay.”

“No amount of your sticky-tape sorries can ever fix what you did.” I replied, tears starting to sting my cheeks as they rolled over them gently. Oh fuck it, I thought, if anything, crying will make him feel worse. Excellent. He remained silent, his eyebrows lowering nervously.

“Y’know, sometimes I wish I’d never fallen in love with you at all.” I said quietly, wiping my eyes. He recoiled, wincing, and I could tell I’d hurt him. Revenge, I think.

“Do you remember that old saying?” I asked, sniffing slightly “It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Whoever thought up that shit needs a slap in the face.” I laughed weakly and looked over at Trace, catching sight of tears in his crystalline blue eyes.

“Mason, please, I said sorry, what else can I do?” He said faintly, stepping towards me. I stepped back, so I was almost touching the wall.

“You could leave me alone.” I suggested, turning to the door.

“Bye guys. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, so lead good lives, yeah?” I shot Trace another death glare before yanking open the door and leaving his house.
I jumped in my car again, violently shoving the keys in the socket, too pissed off to bother with a seatbelt. I started up the engine and drove off, glancing up at the sky through the windscreen. Strange. It was gray, black clouds lurking ominously and partly blocking the sunlight. How odd. Looks like the forecast was wrong.

I turned a corner onto a random street that I think leads into town, just as my phone rang. Without looking at the caller ID - foolish, I know - I picked up, pressing the speakerphone button and throwing it down onto the passenger seat.

“What?” I said tetchily, having adapted to the tears rolling over my cheeks.

“Mason, come back, I’m sorry.” Trace sobbed, his voice crackling over the phone line.

“Why that hell should I?” I questioned, a sniff somehow working its way into the sentence.

“Because I still love you.” He wept. I scoffed. Yeah right. I’ll believe it when pigs fly.

“Sure you do.” I replied, sarcasm dripping from my voice “Did I ever tell you that I don’t
believe in second chances?” I heard him let out a choked sob and smiled weakly in satisfaction. I know, it’s mean, but what do you call what he did to me then?

“Maybe we could just reverse and pretend that none of this happened?” He suggested. I scoffed again.

“Same thing.” I murmured “Look, it’s not gonna happen. I won’t waste your time. Don’t bother following me, if I could let go, I’m pretty sure you can too.”

I was so absorbed in the argument with Trace that I never saw the wall. Or at least, until it was too late. I tried desperately to swerve, but the piece of crap I call my car is too slow for that, isn’t it? The car slammed into the brick wall, and I jolted forwards due to my lack of a seatbelt. My chest smashed into the steering wheel, and I swear I felt a rib break. The car that was behind me crumpled and pushed against my back, crushing me against the steering wheel. The windscreen shattered and glass went flying. I felt - but didn’t see - some cut my forehead and a few seconds later the cool sensation of blood running over the right side of my face struck me.

“Mason?” Trace shouted down the phone. Hell, that thing still works?!

“Mason, what just happened?” He shouted. I tried to reply, but I couldn’t. I’d forgotten that my lungs were being mashed at that point.

“Stay there, I’ll try and find you. That didn’t sound good.” I heard him get up, mutter something to Ant or Blake, and then a door slam as he left the house. I groaned in pain, as it had only just struck then.

“Mason, are you okay?” He asked, over his hurried footsteps.

“What do you think, idiot?” I asked weakly. I groaned again, I think I did break a rib.

“Did you crash or something?” He asked nervously, sniffling worriedly.

“No, I’m still driving. Course I crashed, moron.” I whimpered. I could tell the rather nasty combination of blood loss and massive pain were doing me no favours.

“Keep talking, I will find you.” He promised. I’d have laughed if I could.

“I can’t keep talking.” I whispered, my voice getting hoarse “My lungs are kinda getting crushed,” The blood from my forehead was now streaking one side of my face, and I couldn’t do anything about it. It was starting to make me dizzy.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer.” I said quietly, my voice wavering.

“Mason, try. Please.” He begged. I could tell he was biting his lip.

“I can’t.” I whimpered, my eyes slipping shut.

“Mason, I’m sorry. I love you.” was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

The next thing I remember is waking up. Or at least, half waking up. I could hear everything, but I couldn’t see or move any body part. I still felt enormous pain though, I’m gonna guess I was right, and presume I’ve broken at least one rib.

“He’ll hate me.” said a voice. It was a voice I recognised, but couldn’t place.

“No he won’t.” said someone else. I recognised that voice instantly. Mitchel.

“Yes, he will.” The other voice said. Whoever it was sounded really upset.

“Just listen to me dammit.” Mitchel sighed. He sounded really quite fed up.

“I’ve known Mason, like, all my life and he’s never ever held a grudge on anyone, not even me, and I’ve put him through a hell of a lot. Trace, why would he hold a grudge against you?”
Oh fuck. Trace. How could I have failed to realize it was him?

“Because of what happened before.” Trace said simply.

“Oh.” Mitchel replied “Maybe you have point there.”

“Exactly.” Trace mumbled. I could guess that he’d be finding the floor remarkably interesting right about now.

“I think he spent a few nights sat by the phone when you said you’d call him, and when you
didn’t, he used to get real upset and panicky.” Mitchel replied. I would’ve slapped him if I could. Yeah, it was true, but you don’t say stuff like that!

“When I didn’t call him, I’d thought he was supposed to call me, so I was sat somewhere on my own waiting for him.”

“I remember, after you two split up, he came to me crying and said something about you being two faced and that all your different ways of saying things were messing with his mind - and his heart.” Mitchel continued. I remembered saying that to him. It was the day we split up, actually.

“That relationship was dangerous.” Trace muttered; whether it was to himself or Mitchel, I couldn’t work out.

“Not to mention complicated.” Mitchel continued. Kid’s not lying.

“We were just too… separate from each other. Different places at different times; never the same place at the same time.”

Now, here’s where I wanted to stand my ground. So I tried to. I gradually forced my eyes to flicker open, scaring the crap out of Trace and Mitchel, who had apparently been staring at me.

“Mason?” Trace asked, touching my hand lightly.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” I said weakly, smiling feebly. Mitchel very nearly dived on me, throwing his arms around me before leaning away, a look of nervousness in his eyes.

“Sorry, I forgot for a second there…” He apologized, looking sheepish.

“Forgot what?” I asked, glancing at him. I felt a clammy hand grip around mine and I looked over at Trace. He blushed an interesting shade of pink and mumbled ‘Sorry.’ under his breath, but didn’t let go. And I actually didn’t mind.

“Forgot about your back…” Mitchel muttered. I raised an eyebrow quizzically at him, still waiting for an answer.

“You sprained your back. And broke two ribs, I think.” He stated “And you’ve got a few stitches here and there, but otherwise you’re okay.”

“They said that if you’d have been any further right you’d have broken your back and you’d have been paralysed if you were lucky.” Trace informed me. I looked at him, and for the first time noticed the tear tracks streaking his cheeks.

“I’ll go and phone Mom and Dad, tell them you’re okay. Mom was practically laying eggs she’s so worried.” Mitchel said, smiling weakly and standing up. Trace shot him a thankful glance, and I wondered just what they were up to. Mitchel trudged out of the room, pulling his phone from the pocket of his jeans. Trace squeezed my hand lightly, getting me to look at him.

“Sorry.” He said quietly, looking at me, his blue eyes brimming with tears “I just…” He hung his head, his fringe flopping over his eyes.

“Doesn’t matter.” I said, clutching his hand gently. He shuffled forwards, closer to me and leaned forwards, tenderly pressing his lips to mine. He pulled away and blushed again; he’s doing that a lot lately.

“I meant it when I said I loved you.” He muttered, looking at his shoes.

“I didn’t mean it when I said I wish I’d never fallen in love with you…” I mumbled guiltily “I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

He laughed weakly.

“I figured that was it.” He smiled, leaning in closer again. He placed a hand lightly on my cheek, pushing his fingers back into my hair.

“I love you, I really, really, do.” He muttered, staring into my eyes.

“I know, I know.” I mumbled back, reaching up and placing my hands on his cheeks, lacing my fingers in his hair “And I love you too.” I pulled him down and pushed my lips to his.

Sure, it hurt, but at least it was stitching up my broken heart.