The Young and Lost Club

Returning to Maryland was really similar to waking up from a very long and difficult coma. Sure, I was still as fucked up as ever, but my trip to see Ryan only made me realize how deeply fucked up I was.
I cried at the airport, saying goodbye to Ryan. It just sucked. I didn’t want to leave, life seemed so much simpler with him around, and he was always so calm and laid back, it helped me feel calm as well. And despite his promise that we’d see each other so soon I would barely have time to miss him, and the fact that for the first time ever, he kissed my cheek (the first time he’d ever shown more affection outside a hug), I cried for the entire 5 hour flight back to Baltimore.
What the hell was I going to do now?

Max and our manager, a woman named Cate picked me up from the airport. Brian, apparently was back in the studio, putting some finishing touches on the album, and Taylor was “out”. I felt exhausted and incredibly out of the loop. We had gotten in the car, and instantly Cate and Max started talking about tour, tossing around names and locations that all seemed over my head, and for the first time, I realized how much I had missed.
Max, Brian and Taylor had been working their asses off to get us where we were. They knew everyone’s name at our label as well as all about their personal lives, whereas I was still struggling to put names and faces together. And then, when Panic’s management asked us to be their opening band, things had only gotten more complicated: production designers, merch representatives, crew members, techs, security, all these people assigned to us and I didn’t know anyone. And I didn’t know about tour either. All I knew was to show up, preferably, with my guitar, and play the songs Max told me too.
I had been a zombie. Hell, I was still a zombie. I didn’t even know where our first stop on tour was, let alone all the cities we’d be playing.
They had every right to be mad at me, and as much as I wanted to change and make more of an effort, the entire thing seemed overwhelming and pointless. Everything seemed pointless. I didn’t want to blame this on Brendon, blame it on a stupid boy who had ripped me to pieces, but I really didn’t have many other options. I was so sick of not being angry at him. I was so sick of trying to find excuses for him. I was sick of myself.

Cate was one of the few girls I could tolerate. She was bossy, and controlling and incredibly organized. She was new to the music business; when we met her, she had a shit ton of inherited money, and no bands. She heard us play, walked up to us, and told us she wanted us on her label, and asked what she had to do to make that happen.
For us, it was an easy decision, working with Cate. We had a free reign creatively, and got a nice percentage, and no pressure from management, something the other offers we had received wouldn’t give us. Max was completely enamored with her from the moment he met her, but I wasn’t sure if anything was actually going on between them. They played the professional card much better than I ever would have.
As we drove home from BWI, Cate and Max sat laughing and joking in the front seats, I sat watching the scenery fly by in the car window. I don’t think I ever hated Maryland as much as I did in that moment. I hated it. I wanted the entire state to burn to the ground.
I hated the house we were living in, I hated Baltimore, I hated everything. I wanted to be back in LA, with Ryan and his distractions. I could feel bile and panic rising in my throat, as the things we were driving by became increasingly familiar, until we were suddenly on our street.
We pulled into the driveway, and I stumbled out of the car, not paying attention to anything really. I was busy hauling my suitcase out of the trunk, when Max put a hand on my shoulder. I nearly flinched before I caught myself. “Clark?” He asked hesitantly, both he and Cate looking concerned.
“What?” I said, it came out harsher than I meant for it to.
Cate spoke first. “We were just wondering if you wanted to come to the studio with us…you know, give Brian some moral support,” she finished, smiling kindly at me.
“No,” I said quickly and they exchanged a glance, concerned about my behavior. “I’m really tired, I think I’ll just sleep for a while, maybe meet up with Taylor or something.”
“Oh…okay,” Cate said. “If you’re sure.”
“Yes,” I said, grabbing my suitcase handle tightly.
“Alright,” Max said, and gave me a brief hug, then punched my shoulder. “Glad you’re home, sis.”
I mumbled something incoherently and practically ran to the house, slamming the door behind me. I took one look at the foyer, that fucking foyer in this fucking house, in this fucking state, on this fucking planet, and I lost it. “Goddamn it!” I screamed, throwing my suitcase, and kicking it when it landed. I slumped to the floor, and burst out in tears.
I was so dumb to think California had helped in any way. Everything was exactly the same: I was still miserable, the guys still didn’t know how to help me, I was still unable to keep my emotions under control, I still didn’t have Brendon. Why even bother getting up?
I sat there for a long time, while the shadows on the wall grew longer, listening to the noises from the street outside. When I finally managed to get up, I felt stiff from sitting so long, and walked to the kitchen. The refrigerator was filled with old Chinese food, and pizza, and nothing looked appetizing.
It was growing darker outside; I poured myself a glass of water and sat at the kitchen table, occasionally sipping it and just trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me.
I was startled when I heard the front door slam, and was temporarily blinded when lights were flicked on.
It was Taylor. He spotted me and a strange look crossed his face, almost equal disgust and anger. “Oh. You’re back.” He said, crossing the kitchen to the fridge and removing a pizza box, and started eating a slice, staring at me.
“Where were you?” I said, trying to sound normal.
“Out.”
“With who?”
“Alex and Jack and Rian, some of their friends,” he said quickly, stuffing more pizza in his mouth.
“Oh,” I said. I had thought they were just staying for a funeral, but maybe I had misunderstood. “How are they?”
He let out an irritated noise. “What’s it matter to you?” He said snidely. “You just fuck them and leave them, right?”
That was a low blow as far as I was concerned, but I was more distracted by the way he was looking at me. Like he hated me. “Taylor…” my voice broke from not using it and crying all day. “Are you…mad at me?”
“Caught on have you?” He said coolly.
“I don’t know what I did,” I said, feeling confused. Sure Taylor and I had had our fights, but we had always jokingly called them our “Half-Hour Fights” because we were both too high tempered to keep anything we were upset about quiet, and we would argue, say we hated each other, come to terms, and be back to normal in 30 minutes or less.
So it was strange to me that Taylor would be, a) mad at me and b) mad at me for what I was beginning to see was a very long period of time. It was the whole coma thing…exactly how much had I missed? Had Taylor been mad at me for months, and I was too busy drowning in self pity to notice?
Taylor was still glaring at me with an ugly look on his face. “Of course you don’t Clark.” He snapped and then started to shove his way out of the kitchen but I stood up too, and stood in front of him, blocking his way.
“Then tell me!” I snapped. “Tell me what I did! You know I’d never intentionally hurt you Taylor!”
“Whatever, Clark,” he said, trying to shove me, but I stood firm.
“What is your deal, Taylor?! You haven’t talked to me since I went to Ryan…”
At Ryan’s name, Taylor’s face darkened. “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan!” He said, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation.
I didn’t even know what to say. “You aren’t making any sense, Taylor!” I yelled, almost crying in frustration. “What did I do? What did I do?!”
“Why can you talk to Ryan about your problems? Huh? Why can’t you talk to me about this? Ever since you and Brendon broke up, you haven’t talked to me about it, not once! But you’ll go to Ryan, you’ll talk to Ryan about it! So just leave me alone!”
Suddenly, some things clicked into place: Taylor thought I had replaced him with Ryan, when nothing could be further from the truth. I let out a laugh in relief, but it was obviously the wrong thing to do, because it made Taylor angrier. “Fuck you,” he spat, shoving me so hard, I nearly fell against the wall.
“It’s not like that Taylor! At all!” I persisted, following him.
“Fuck off!”
“God damn it, Taylor, listen to me!” I said, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to look at me. “It’s embarrassing to talk to you about this stuff!”
He was obviously not expecting that answer.
“God…I mean, you’ve known me for forever, Tay. You’ve seen me go through this over and over again with boyfriends…don’t you realize how stupid it makes me feel to come to you again with a broken relationship? Ryan’s just…he knows Brendon…and yes, he’s been really helpful. But he is not, and will never mean as much as you do to me.”
His eyes narrowed. “You haven’t spoken to me once, not once, Clark! What am I supposed to do? And then you just fucking leave for an entire month and won’t talk to any of us, let alone me. And when you do come back, I have to learn everything through Ryan?! Fuck me for caring about you Clark! I’m sorry! I know you’ve been through hell and back, but pushing everyone away isn’t going to solve anything!”
I was crying again, pathetically enough. “I know,” I said, wiping furiously at my eyes. “You’re absolutely right. I don’t…what am I supposed to do, Taylor? What am I supposed to do?”
He sighed, and I could tell he was done being angry at me, for the most part, and this was confirmed as he pulled me to him in a rough hug. “Well, stop crying first of all,” he said.
“I don’t want you mad at me,” I said, my voice muffled because he was hugging me so hard. “You’re my best friend. I love you. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not mad,” he assured me and I scoffed. “Well, I was mad, but come on, we don’t stay mad at each other. Right?”
The door opened again, and suddenly Brian was standing there. “So, uh…what’s going on here?” He said, taking in the fact that I was trying to stop crying and Taylor still had his arm around me.
“Taylor’s mad at me,” I said, wiping my eyes.
Taylor let out a frustrated sigh, “I’m not…”
“Guys,” Brian said, interrupting us. “Clark, he’s not mad, he’s frustrated, Taylor, give her a break, she’s obviously upset.”
“I’m not mad! It’s fine!” Taylor said, throwing his hands up.
“Okay,” I said. “It’s fine then.”
Brian looked between the two of us, then shrugged. “How about I make us some tea, and then we can all talk about your trip, huh?”
I snorted in laughter. “Tea?” I questioned. “Who the fuck in this house drinks tea?” In all the years I had ever known these guys, all they ever drank was either alcohol or water. Coffee was a maybe, but tea was definitely not a choice.
“Well…Max, with recording and stuff…he says it helps his voice.” Taylor said. “And it’s not bad…”
“You know, that shit’s actually pretty good,” Brian said as he led us into the kitchen. “You wouldn’t think so, cause it’s like, fucking dried plants and shit, but it’s actually pretty good.”
“Yes Brian,” I said sarcastically. “That’s why it’s been around for hundreds of years. I’m surprised you actually have taste buds after only drinking alcohol for the past 6 years.”
“Whatever,” Brian grumbled.
Taylor snorted as he started handing us steaming cups of water.
There was a brief lull in conversation as we paused to put sugar (a lot of sugar in Brian’s case) and I sat staring at my cup and before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Brendon’s dating someone else.”
There was silence and I looked up to see both of them looking murderous.
“Fuck tea,” Brian grumbled getting up and grabbing a bottle of Jack Daniels off the counter.
“Did you all know?” I said, trying to stay calm.
“No,” they both said sincerely. I let out a sigh of relief and accepted the bottle of alcohol that Brian had passed to me. At least they hadn’t kept it from me.
Suddenly, Taylor pounded the table with his fist. “That…asshole. That fucking asshole!”
Yes, my thoughts exactly.

|||

The one thing my trip to Ryan’s had done was help me get some sleep again. I wasn’t so sure this was a good thing anymore, because the nightmares that had caused me to stop sleeping in the first place had started again.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that I thought about Brendon, Brendon and more Brendon every waking moment, I now suffered through dreaming of him when I fell asleep.
There was literally no escape for me.
And so, as I stood in our little kitchen in Baltimore, awake and upset after another horrible dream, I realized that that was exactly what I needed: an escape.
I fiddled with the phone in my hand, staring at the number. It was 1:30 in the morning, should I really risk waking him up, and making him more angry at me than he already was, or did I just go for it, consequences be damned?
I hit call, and almost hung up when I heard his voice through the phone, “Hello?”
I licked my lips, my mouth already feeling dry. “Hi Alex, can we talk?”