You Just Love to Hate Me

The paper trembled in my hand. I stared at the writing, the black ink merging together and becoming one big sloppy mess. The oh-too-familiar lines that I'd been sat here for the past half-hour...hour? God knows how long I'd been slumped in my bunk for, acting like I was in a trance.

I scanned the black, scrawled hand writing for the hundredth time, already knowing pretty much what was in there.

Dearest Maxwell,

Just the first few words tugged on my heartstrings. Ronnie used to call me Maxwell all the time, instead of Max or Maxie like the others. Instead of being annoying, it made me like him even more than I already did. And as a confused sixteen year old, who was exploring his sexuality, at the time it felt like I liked him a hell of a lot.Love, even

You're probably wondering how this got to you. How I found you.

Damn, that boy always managed to read my mind. It was rather strange, now I thought about it. Once I'd seen the letter with the familiar messy handwriting on it, I didn't give any time to considering how on Earth it had managed to get there.

Well, that's not important right now. All that matters is that you got this, I'm guessing, in one piece, as you're reading this now.

Unless you aren't Max of course. In which case, stop reading now, and give this to Max before I find you and Chuck Norris yo' ass.

I chuckled slightly; it came out more like a witches cackle due to the few pathetic tears I'd shed. He always was obsessed with Chuck Norris...

Shaking my head from side to side in an attempt to get rid of my melancholy feeling, I continued reading again.

Maxwell (If this is you reading this), I'm sorry you had to put up with all of my shit. You were the best friend I could've ever asked for. You kept me safe, gave me a place to stay when I needed it, clothes on my back when I ruined my own.

But still, I kept on! Fueling my addictions with alcohol and pills. I was a mess. A complete and utter mess.

You picked me up, dusted me off, and told me everything was going to be okay. I believed you Maxwell, I really truly did.

Then it all went wrong. I'm sure you remember the night as clearly as I do; it stalks me by day, waiting to attack at night, sending terror through my spine. I can't sleep properly.

Fuck.

The tears pricked the backs of my eyes, threatening to spill at any moment.

I'm so weak. Too weak.

Of course I remembered that night. Why wouldn't I? It was the single most terrifying thing to ever happen to me. And I wish it hadn't of happened.

Otherwise, he'd still be here. With me, where he belongs. I longed to hold him in my arms once again.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I'm sorry. So sorry that you would not believe it.

There were tear marks scaring the page that were not my own. I could imagine Ronnie breaking down as he wrote this, his usually hard features softening and crumpling into a sobbing mess.

And that hurt. A lot Ronnie never ever cried. Not for anything, or anyone.

Fuck, I'm so pathetic. Crying when you probably don't even remember me, who I am, and what we had.

It's been five fucking years.

Five years too long. Five years since I got to hold you in my arms, see you smile.

Fuck it. I couldn't stop the blasted tears flowing now. They ran down my cheeks and into my mouth, filling it with a salty taste. My vision was obscured, but I knew the words of by heart anyway.

I fell in love with you, Max. That day, when they took me away from you, when everything changed , I finally realized how much you meant to me. I'd fallen in love with you, and I'd fallen hard.

And I still feel that way.

Baby, keep this letter close to your side. Keep your head up, and stay strong. If not for me, or yourself, then the band. You all deserve it.

I'll find you soon.

I love youso much.

Ronnie xx

I couldn't take this anymore! I folded the letter up neatly, and pulled in into my chest, curling up into a protective ball around it.

It was the only thing in the world that mattered to me.

Ronnie's letter. Ronnie

I kept repeating his name over and over in my head, half of me not believing that it was true, that it was some sick joke.

But nobody knew about us. Our more-than-best-friends relationship. Plus, it was his handwriting.

Somehow, that factor only made me feel worse.

I shut the curtain round my bunk and refused to come out for the rest of the day, until our show.