Will You Catch Me If I Fall?

I did it. Finally, I stopped fighting myself and I let him in. I let Trace bloody, fantastic Cyrus into my rundown life.

Harry was surprised that day when I stepped into The Pink Flamingo, stilettos swinging from one hand to announce I was giving up dancing. This time for good. He had been angry, understandably, I was a firm favourite and now he was going to have to find someone else. I hugged the girls’ goodbye, for once showing a little affection towards them. I hoped that someday they would find a friend like Trace who could lead them away from this life. Though, Trace wasn’t leading me. He simply pointed in the right direction.

I wasn’t better. Far from it. I would never be better, whatever that even meant. Walking down the street, I would always look around in hope at the sight of a blonde haired girl. I would always feel that horrible depression and sinking pain when I realised it was not my sister and that she was still up in a better place. A place away from me.

I still drank, and I still took drugs. But I had stopped dancing and for now, that was enough for me and I think, it was enough for Trace. He never told me he was proud of me, but I could see it in those blue eyes the day he saw me working, really working, in The Broken Eagle. Pulling pints and wiping tables, that was now how I earned my dollars. It was fucking shit work but...somehow, it helped me. I found a smile on my face more often and maybe, I saw a familiar shine come back into my eyes.
Trace became my protector. He probably saved my life several times when he carried me back to his apartment after a heavy night of boozing to sleep it off. He couldn’t save me all the time...and I still woke up naked, beside strangers...but it happened less. There was still no future beyond the present I was living in, I was still going to find the fastest way out but with Trace, maybe that time could be slightly more enjoyable.

I craved his touch on my body and it was becoming harder not to give in and allow lust to take over, but I had vowed myself not to mess him up. I would never do that to Trace. He was too good.

But there were always those mornings, I would wake up, in his familiar sheets wrapped tight around my clothed body. He didn’t think I knew, but every night he brought me home, he would subconsciously wrap his arms around my body, and press his body close to mine. I always woke up first, loving that heat from him. How my neck tickled with his warm even breath on the back of it. I never moved him away. I stayed in place, trying to get, if possible, closer until he would wake up and move away.

I didn’t even deserve his friendship but he was willing to give it to me and I was selfish. I took it.

My life took on two different meanings. The lighter side, with laughter and short bouts of happiness with Trace and then the darker, sinister side with Frank-E. That side consisted of trails of white powder, rolled up joints, and shiny sharp edges, tears and sex...but those two halves made the whole of me. I needed Trace but I needed Frank-E and what he could give me. And Frank-E and I were in this together, and if one of us goes, so does the other.

“What did you want to do?” Trace asked me “When you were in High School?” we were walking to Mason’s apartment, passing a local High School, which coincidentally happened to also be the school I had gone to.

I shrugged, swinging the hair away from my face “I don’t know...I dropped out when I was sixteen”. I’d only been able to handle a year in school after Stephanie died. She’d been a constant reminder in those halls. Her pictures were there on the cheerleading team, a plague was hung with her accomplishments in dancing...I’d had to escape from it. But worse were the stares, the whispers of “the poor girl”...and one day, I’d picked up my bag and walked out. I never went back.

I could see Trace stare at me from the corner of my eye, I knew the look that was on his face. The look everytime he asked a question and didn’t get a real answer. It was a mixture of frustration and resignation. He knew that there was something I wasn’t telling him and he knew, I knew. But I wasn’t able to talk about Steph. Not now, not ever.

My thoughts were interrupted by loud screams across the road. I stopped, wondering what the hell I had just walked into. I glanced at Trace, his eyes were closed for a brief moment while he took a deep breath and in one second his face transformed, and it lit up in a smile as he turned towards the noise.

I allowed myself to stare at the five girls who had clustered around Trace, gazing at him, in what seemed to me, awe. They were holding out scraps of paper, asking him for autographs....was I missing something? What the hell was going on here?

I stayed silent, watching Trace converse with the teenage girls for a moment. Their faces were alight and they hung onto his every word. I spotted one of their hands shaking. One of them glanced at me, and I was taken aback at the ugly look that came over her pretty face. Her heavy black lined eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted. I looked away; I wasn’t wasting my energy on some jealous fifteen year old.

I stood to the side, feeling...disconcerted as Trace said goodbye to the giggling girls. He stepped closer to me, a crooked smile on his face.

“Sorry about that” he said, swinging his arm around me but I stepped away from him. He stopped walking “What’s wrong?”

“Am I missing something here Trace?” my voice came out harsher than I intended “What the hell was that about?”

Trace laughed, and shrugged “I told you...I’m a singer, in a band”

I spluttered, trying to find words “You’re...but you...never said you were famous!”

He smiled “We’re not....famous but we have our fans.”

I couldn’t help but laugh “How could I not know that I’ve been hanging with a fucking...superstar, rockstar, whatever.”

Trace joined in laughing “Addison, don’t worry about it...”
I shook my head and nudged his side with my hip “bastard”. He chuckled, swinging his arm around me again; relieved when I didn’t step away this time....I relaxed into his side. I wish I could stay here...even he was a fucking rockstar...

“Addison! Addison Grey...” a familiar voice shouted behind me and I froze...recognising the voice and cursing. I stepped away from Trace, forcing a smile onto my face and turning around.

A girl was walking towards me, her lank brown hair hung into a pony and black glasses perched upon her nose. She was clutching a pile of books to her chest, as if they were her very own bible. Typical Jenny.
She smiled at me “Addison...I can’t believe it’s you! I haven’t seen you in so long”
I wrinkled my nose “Yeah...it’s been...too long” I was aware of Trace beside me, curiously looking at my old school friend to me “Trace, Jenny...Jenny, Trace”

Jenny waved and laughed “Hey Trace” she turned back to me “You look so different Addison...wow...so what are you doing now?”
I shrugged “Oh...I’m just...in between things at the moment” Yeah... in between life and death, trying to find a fucking bridge to cross between the two.

Jenny smiled and to my horror, I recognised that disgusting look of sympathy that always appeared on old friends faces when I saw them again “So...how are you? Since...”

I didn’t let her finish “I’d love to stay and chat Jennifer...but we really have to go”. I looked away from her hurt face, grabbing Trace’s hand in mine, furious to realise I was trembling. I walked away quickly and silently, my head down and I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to let more goddamn tears fall.

I knew Trace was looking at me, wanting an explanation.

“Leave it Trace...just leave it” I whispered and he listened, simply wrapping his arms around me as I stopped walking and allowed me to stay in a silent agony.