I'm Not Saying Goodbye

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I run a hand through my hand as I pace. “What the fuck did I do?” Apparently I’m the only one who doesn’t know how much of an ass I am when I’m drunk, because Jack was screaming at me this morning, Holly threw fucking furniture at me, and Ian and Ivan told me to get the fuck out of the house.

And seeming as they were the only ones left, that makes everyone but me in the know.

So what the hell did I say? Or do? I take my phone out and dial John’s number while walking towards the gas station.

I need a cigarette.

It’s the only thing Jack can’t steal from me at the moment. Because God forbid I actually keep something that’s actually mine for once.

I kick a rock in the middle of the sidewalk and scowl as it goes to voicemail after three rings. Which means John’s pissed at me too. I try to think of who else was at the party, but I can’t draw any names. All I remember is Holly and Jack in the car, talking to Ivan and Ian and people I didn’t know or care about, and heading to the kitchen to get beer.

I shake my head to stop thinking about it, for just a second, and shoulder my way into the gas station. I grab a pack of cigarettes without looking to see what kind they are, a lighter, and then a Nutri-Grain bar because I haven’t eaten yet. I put them on the counter, along with a ten, and thankfully, the clerk doesn’t ask for ID.

He, or she, I don’t know, I didn’t look, just rang me up and handed my receipt. I sigh and light up as I walk out before turning down a road I’ve never seen before.

I need to find out what happened last night. I need to know what I did. And to do that, I need to find a quiet place to stay. I stop by a park by my old elementary school and sit on the swings, so small now, before putting my iPod earphones in and hitting shuffle. I sit on the swing, just sitting there, not listening to the music until I realize it’s dark and my iPod died.

I curl my hand into a fist but get up. I’m not looking for a fight. I’m looking for my car; I need to go driving. Probably hit a bar in Baltimore or something. I don’t even care right now.

I start walking, just wondering around since I’m lost, even though I’m right where I belong.

That seems to be a recurring theme with me. I shake my head realizing it’s pretty cold but shrug it off. I finally see the Starbucks Holly, Ian, Jack and I always go to and smile. I know where I am now, and start jogging in the direction of my house. Who cares about my car? I’ll find it later.

Well, I thought that we could sit around and talk for hours
about things I couldn't say to you
and things that we could never do and,
this conversation has had no face.
When the words take days, you can re-write and erase anything.

I stop and turn, looking at the electronics store to my left. This song sounds so familiar, but I don’t know how. I cock my head, looking at the screens that are showing me, only reversed. Like I’m in a mirror.

I walk towards the display, looking for the camera, but I can’t find it, until my forehead’s resting against the glass.

And then, staring into the black lens, I start to remember.

“Jack, Jack! Come do body shots with me!” I grab onto Jack’s arm and pull him into the room upstairs, giggling, some tequila from the bottle splashes onto the floor.

“Alex, we shouldn’t-”

“Shh!” I turn to him, grinning mischievously. It’s almost a smirk, and even in my drunken state, I know what I’m about to do. I press against him, and because he’s on the step lower than me, I can look down into his eyes. I bring my mouth ever so slowly near his ear. Despite my thundering heart and sweating skin, this feels so right.

With my lips right on his ear, I whisper, “We’ll be fine. Trust me, babe.”

Like I’m talking to one of those girls I hook up with all the time. Pulling Jack up, up, up again, I can’t remember the other one.

Some girl. Hannah? Harley?

“What about Holly?” he whispers so shyly, like we’re doing something wrong. I love how innocent he sounds; like he’s never done something like this before. Not only has Jack cheated on his girlfriends, he lost his virginity before me. So something like this shouldn’t bring out this part of him. But instead of being annoyed, I’m giggling again. He’s just so damn adorable.

As my drunken mind registers the rest of his sentence, I nod. Holly, Holly. That’s her name. Like the plant. Or is it a flower? Maybe a tree? Whatever, I don’t care. I don’t even remember who she is; if I can’t remember her name, she obviously isn’t important. Not like Jack, anyway.

“What about her, Jack?” I reply, smirking at him before raising the tequila bottle and drinking straight from it. I allow some to miss, and lick it from my lips. “Mmm.” I lean into Jack again, but this time put my mouth near his. I know he can smell the alcohol, but he can’t taste it. He’ll have to initiate that; drunk or not, Alex Gaskarth is always sexy, never begging or desperate.

“You’re not drunk enough, Jack,” I whisper, watching him watch my lips. I lick them again, then as he starts to lean forward, I pull back. His eyes meet mine, and I raise the bottle to my lips once again, smirking at him and as he watches me swallow.

And then it’s him pulling me up the stairs.

I rub my eyes and frown. Why can’t I remember more? And how could I do that to him?

You know my heart (so tell me honestly, do you ever really want this?)
knows all these parts...

Then I wonder how many times I’ve done that. I remember waking up to Jack next to me, cuddled in my arms after parties. All those times, we never had shirts on, only jeans or occasionally boxers, but Jack always is an early riser, even when he’s hungover.

I always envied that about him. But now I wonder if he’s ever spent it getting us dressed so I wouldn’t know about those nights, 'cause I never get drunk and take a person upstairs without doing something. I just always thought it was a girl.

I never thought I would do that with Jack. Jack, who was my best friend since I was seven and pushed him off the swings. Jack, who I grew up with and went on double dates with. Jack, who I went to movies with just to scope out chicks and then have sleepovers while not calling those girls.

But maybe I didn’t, I think with hope. Or, what feels like hope. For a second, at least.

And I'll borrow words from all my favorite paragraphs
to write a ballad while we say the things
we hope would mean the most to me.
And each line is sent,
I have found a new pages of hope for the days
when I feel like I've lost everything.

I close my eyes, taking a drag of the cigarette. I can’t go home now. Not home, where I can see into Jack’s window. Not where I can watch him.

He could be screaming, crying, throwing things.

He could be laughing on his phone, smiling as he watched TV, flipping through comic books on his bed.

Or - this thought hurt me the most - he could not be there.

I couldn’t watch him not be in his room all night, waiting for him to come back while I know he won’t.

You know my heart (so tell me honestly, do you ever really want this?)
knows all these parts (‘cause my jealous heart can't take that).
So I'll sing this song for every word that's come out lost.

I sit down, pulling another cigarette out. I don’t know where my other one went, or when it disappeared, but I don’t care. I just need to not think for awhile. Or... I need to remember. I just have a feeling it isn’t going to be that easy.

But, I'll be ok (Is that what you want me to say?)
It's called breakup
’cause it's broken.
Yeah, I'll be ok (Is that what you want me to say?)
It's called breakup
’cause it's broken.

I just sit there, looking out across the street, watching cars pass by. This doesn’t make me wonder where my car is. I think about where Jack is, and what he’s doing.

Jack’s never screamed at me before, I think, and I know it’s true. Even when his girlfriend Olivia came on to me last year, he just got mad at me for a day, then broke up with her and we made up. That was the worst fight we’ve ever had, and only the second. The first was when we first met, because he was sitting on the swing I always sat on back in England, so I pushed him off, and we fought for about three minutes before we decided to get ice cream and become friends.

I try to smile at the memory, but I can’t. I just see Jack’s face screaming at me, broken and crying, while I stand there clueless. I can’t believe you! he’d said. Do you want me to say I’m ok? I’m not! Just those words, and now I remember why this song sounds familiar.

Jack would always sing it. What was the band called?

I'll be ok,
Is that what you want me to say?
It's called breakup
’cause it's broken.

Mayday something. I rub my temples, trying to remember. This is going to drive me crazy, I know, if I can’t remember the name. I sigh and tip my head back against the wall, raising the cigarette to my lips. Why do I feel so defeated? So empty, like my world just ended?

I'll be ok, is that what you want me to say?
It's called breakup
’cause it's broken.

And you were just about to tell me
how you meant that you were sorry.
And the lines we've said that
never meant the world to you.
Wrote me down, let’s keep it slow.
Take every note and every page that takes you longer,
the cherry flavored kisses,
well I taste them,
do you miss it?

Because Jack’s my best friend. And somehow, I screwed everything up. If only I could remember how, I could make it up to him. Somehow, some way. I feel something roll down my cheek, and soon I’m sobbing. It starts to rain, and I drop my cigarette.

My best friend hates me, and I have no reason why. Why do I have to kill the best things that ever happen to me?

I'll be ok,
is that what you want me to say?
It's called breakup
’cause it's broken.

I'll be ok,
is that what you want me to say?
It's called breakup
’cause it's broken.

My friends are ignoring my calls, my best friend hates me, my girlfriend broke up with me, and I can only assume it’s because I cheated on her with my best friend. Somehow, I ended up breaking him, and all we had, because of one drunken night, because I couldn’t keep it in my pants, because I wanted him more than I wanted anything else.

Ever.

I, Alexander William Gaskarth, just broke my best friend’s heart, and I don’t even remember it.

Well I thought that we could sit around and talk for hours
about things I couldn't say to you
and things that we could never do.