Baby Why So Cold?

He ran his long, slender fingers through his knotted hair, letting a loud sigh escape, before taking the offered pipe. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, a smoke blurring his eyesight and making him lightheaded.

I watched him laugh and dance and drink and smoking some more.

I watched him kiss random girl, taking her hand and walking upstairs.

I heard the rapid movement of the bed and her screams and his grunts.

And, it made me sick.

But, I knew that after the alcohol and drugs and meaningless sex, he would come back to me, crawling on his knees, begging me to take him back. And, I would gave up to those puppy dog eyes and those pouting lips. I would kiss his lips, his neck. I would fuck him until his mind is blank and the silence is surrounding us; interlaced with his moans and screams.

And, after he's asleep in my arms I would walk out on a balcony, breathing the dry air and smoking. I could hear his light snoring, and for a while, I thought that I had everything in my life that I needed.

He wasn't answering his phone. And, when he did, there were loud noises and incoherent talking in the background. I sighed and took my jacket. He was becoming more and more irresponsible, trying to live the Pete Wentz style. Partying hard, fucking everything that walked, smoking every shit they offered him. They didn't care for him. They fucked him rough. They hurt him.

And, despite everything, he was coming back for more. And, every time they fucked, he had marks and bruises on his body. They filled his body with drugs and alcohol that made him feel great, but I was the one that held his head above the toilet while he was throwing his soul up.

I had enough with it. I even thought that me leaving would snap him out of that state, snap him out to reality. I wanted the old Brendon back; I wanted the old times back. Back when we were young and careless and out lives wasn't filled with such a drama.

Just as I thought, they were sitting in the big living room, passing the pipe surrounded with the empty bottles. I looked at them with a slight sickness creeping up my stomach. They were all there. Every single one of them. The big DecayDance family. But, not a sight of Brendon.

"I never thought I would see you here." Saporta reeked of alcohol and smoke. His arms draped around my shoulder, sliding down my arm and resting on my ass. I looked at him with my eyebrow raised. "Come on baby, we could have so much fun together," he coed in my ear.

I pushed him with my hand, and he stumbled back a couple of steps. He knew so well that he disgusts me; that he was the one of them, one of the many that were breaking Brendon.

Brendon walked down the stairs, tripping over his own feet. His eyes met mine for a brief second. I heard him sigh and ran his fingers through his knotted hair. He didn't say anything. He didn't knew what to say. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist; lips kissing his neck.

No, it didn't hurt. I wasn't crying. The look on my face when I told him that I don't love him anymore, that I can't take it anymore, that I'm leaving, for good this time, told him more than my words could ever.

I tried living his tempo; I failed. I didn't reprehend him for his lifestyle, and sure as Hell wasn't trying to change him. I just wanted him to be him, when he was with me. I didn't care what or who he was doing when I wasn't around. It's his life. Or, at least it was.

Pete told me that I couldn't save everyone. I didn't wanted to save everyone. I wanted to save Brendon. I tried saving Brendon. I couldn't save Brendon.

Because Brendon didn't wanted to be saved. He loved living the Pete Wentz lifestyle. Partying hard, fucking everything that walked, smoking every shit they offered him. Sometimes he calls and says that he misses me. And, at times like those I want to hold him close and tell him that it's going to be okay.

But the truth was, it wasn't going to be OK. Not now, not ever. Not as long as he realizes that, his life is for him to live it his way, not trying to live someone else's life.

I tried saving him, but he didn't wanted to be saved. He was lost in his way of becoming the next biggest thing. I feared that he failed at life, but he succeeded at his goals. And, whenever he calls I congratulate him for becoming the next Pete Wentz.