We Knew That Time Would Kill Us

"I just—I can't fucking believe you, Matt!" It was just about the only thing I could say to him at that point. I was shocked beyond comprehension, and I was still trying to process what he'd just said to me.

His concerned features hardened significantly as soon as I called him by his first name, which was something I'd been careful not to do for a while. Now, however, I just didn't care.

Hastily standing up, he glared down at me. That wasn't something I was expecting. Just a moment ago he looked so guilty I'd thought he was going to cry. His sudden change in mood didn't make me back down, though, and I stood along with him. Although he was taller than me by a long shot, standing up to him at my full height felt a whole lot better than sitting down.

Jaw set, he continued to stare down at me. It was obvious he was shocked that I'd go back to calling him 'Matt' in an instant, but right then I wouldn't let myself feel bad for it. His fuck up greatly outweighed mine; he shouldn't have had the nerve to go parental on me then. "As a father, I thought it would be best if you had no chance of contact with some junkie kid!"

"Some junkie kid," I echoed, scoffing. Other than that, I ignored his statement. If he'd really been focused on being a good father, he would have come to me first instead.

I was overwhelmed, but refused to show such a vulnerable emotion. Instead, I braced my hands on the back of my neck and wondered what I could possibly say to him. Couldn't I have just one good moment that was marred with a bad ending? No matter how much I tried these past few weeks, I didn't know if I could handle him keeping something like this from me.

"I have to call Tyler," I said, my tone almost a whisper; it felt weird saying his name out loud and especially in such a statement. For once I'd chosen not to argue with Matt any further, and hoped he would do the same.

"Like hell you will," He barked, blocking my way when I made a move to leave the bunks. "I blocked that kid's number for a good reason, Payton. And there's no fuckin' way I'm gonna stand here and let him fuck up all the progress we made."

I tried, to go about things without too much yelling. But what he said sent me over the edge. "You just fucking ruined it yourself, Matt. Derek and Melissa are my family, before I ever came to Huntington. For almost an entire month after Mom died, they were the ones who took care of me. You have no fucking right to try and keep them from me, so get the fuck out of my way."

The more I thought about it and the more I actually voiced my opinion, the more I was sure. What I'd said was true, I wasn't just letting my anger get the best of me. At the very least, I had to at least give them a phone call. They deserved that much and I myself deserved peace of mind that they were okay. I was living proof that anything could happen in a year.

Seeing as Matt was still in my way, I used my smaller figure to my advantage and ducked under him, successfully making my way out to the main living area. The guys all wore the same questioning, concerned look. They weren't the only ones who thought things were going well. I could feel Matt practically breathing down my neck, so in order to further escape him I sat down in the small space between Brian and Jimmy on the sofa.

Matt's eyes remained trained on me, and I could feel his stare even as I broke eye contact with him and started going through the contacts on my phone, looking for that familiar number. He was pissed, having always hated it when I walked away from him. "Give me your phone," He demanded, dead serious. "You're fucking grounded, Payton."

Everybody's eyebrows shot up at that, including mine. It had been a long time since he'd made such a threat. With my jaw clenched just as tightly as his, I stood from the sofa yet again. I did the same as I had in the bunks and pushed past him, heading for the door. "Payton, if you leave this bus—"

The door slamming shut cut off the rest of his threat, and for that I was grateful. It was cold for Montreal’s late winter, and I cussed myself out for only wearing a hoodie once again. If I hadn't been in such a fit of rage, I'd have (hopefully) remembered to take a heavier coat.
"Fuck," I mumbled to myself, hoping that I wasn't overreacting. Then I thought to myself that whether I was or not didn't matter, because I would've had to flip at Matt just to get off the bus anyway.

Once I was a good distance away from the bus, I stood at the side of a deserted parking lot, shivering while I manually punched in the number. If Tyler picks up, I promised myself, I will hang up.

Really, I just needed to know that he was okay. If he was, then that meant Derek and Melissa were, too.

On the sixth ring, just when I was sure that my outburst on the bus had been for no reason, someone answered. They fumbled with their receiver for a moment, as if they had a hard time holding it all the while my breath was hitched in my throat. "Hello?" Melissa's voice sounded worn out, as if she were ten years older. I almost didn't recognize her.

Another minute passed by, with me frozen on the cement, even my toes curled at the bitter cold I was subjecting myself to. "This—Melissa... this is Payton," I stuttered it all out in my usual nervous fashion.

"Oh, my God," Melissa said after a shocked gasp left her mouth, and then a sob nearly rattled through to my end. I felt myself shrink at the sound of it, knowing everything wasn’t fine like I'd hoped. No, something had obviously gone terribly wrong.

"I'm sorry."

I felt like I owed her that much, because whatever she was crying over I was willing to bet had something to do with me, or else she wouldn't have even been crying. Not only that, but I was apologizing for having gone so long without so much as a phone-call to either her or Derek. I only just began to realize how low that had been of me, to leave them to deal with Tyler just because I couldn't face him.

"Payton, I can't believe it's you. We've--we've been trying to get in touch with you for a while now..." Melissa trailed off, and just from the familiar tone she was using I could tell she was holding something back. I didn't reply, and chose to wait for her to give me whatever bad news she had to bear. "Tyler overdosed."

There was no emotion in her voice. It sounded just as hollowed as I felt upon hearing it, and I choked back a cry of my own. My heart felt like it stopped beating, and I slowly shook my head in denial.

"No—Mel, you're joking. You have to be." No matter what he did to me, what was said or however much he'd played me—Tyler didn't deserve to die. I knew that much. The kid I loved was still in him somewhere, the kid who would stand up for me and anyone else in a heartbeat, and that was what counted.

"He did," She reassured me with a sniff, on the verge of hysteria. I felt guilty for phoning her then, as it seemed like I'd made her a whole lot more upset since the beginning of our limited conversation. "Two nights ago. He might not make it, Patey."

Upon hearing that I held my phone away as a sob of my own tore through my chest, but quickly I tried my best to straighten myself out. I was going to be the strong one again, the person someone, in the case Melissa, could lean on. "Just wait, okay? I'm coming to you, right now."

"Oh no, I couldn't ask that of you. We're getting by, P, I swear."

It sure as hell didn't sound like it. "No, seriously. I'm in Canada now, Montreal. And I have to see you. I have to see him."

I'd gone back to referring to Tyler as him, now, and that was how it would stay. I couldn't even begin to fathom how he'd gotten himself in such a predicament, or how he'd let himself overdose.

Quickly, I stopped myself before I could begin to think any further into it. After even more convincing on my part and telling Melissa that I loved her, I hung up and dashed toward the bus, my legs feeling like jelly. My world was even further crashing down, and at that moment it was hard to remember how happy I'd been just hours earlier.

"I have to go home." I panted before I was even halfway through the door. Matt had since taken a spot across from all the guys at the small kitchen table, and still looked as pissed off as ever. I may have been bouncing on my toes with the anxiety I was feeling, but I tried to maintain my tough exterior while wiping away the remainder of what tears had fallen earlier.

"Payton, our flight leaves in a few hours," Matt began, but I shook my head rapidly in response. He thought I meant Huntington Beach.
"No, I have to go see Tyler," I said, feeling tears at the corners of my eyes. I blinked them back as best as I could, and continued to do so while Matt shot me a half angry, half confused look.

He didn't like the idea, at all. The look on his face said it all. "After just one phone call? Why?"

"He's in the hospital, goddamnit," I snapped back, disliking the patronizing tone he was using with me. "He--he overdosed. Now book us a flight." No, I didn't want to go alone. Although I doubted I would forgive him, not for a long time, I still needed my father with me. That, and driving would take too long. A flight would only last a couple hours tops, while driving could take upwards of ten hours.

Flustered, I turned back around and exited the bus again, but not before mumbling "I have to find Evan," to myself. I doubted anyone else heard me, but I had to be quick with things. Matt didn't even try to stop me this time around; my words may have shocked him. I just hoped he would snap out of it and hurry with getting us a flight.

My entire body shook, but not from the cold air that hit me as soon as I opened the door. Hell, I barely even knew what I was doing or even saying, with just one thought racing through my mind. I had to see Tyler. I had to see him. He couldn't die, and I had to see him.

Wretched Remorse's van was parked where it usually was at venues, very close to the door. Not a whole lot of people approached them before or after their show, which was the only reason why Avenged didn't do the same. They were packing up, as I'd suspected, and I forced myself to jog up to them, feeling exhausting and out of my mind. The guys all smiled and waved hello to me, thinking all was well.

I was beginning to think it would never be that way with me.

Evan saw me before I saw him, and with a cheesy grin he had me swooped into his arms while he placed multiple light, feathery kisses on my cheek. I felt terrible as I knew I was about to ruin his good mood, too. Having changed after their set, he'd chosen to wear a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans, a plain black t-shirt and a worn leather jacket. If I weren't there to see him under these circumstances, I would have complemented his attire.

He noticed my forced, tiny smile right away, the one I'd been hoping would mask the fear and pain I was feeling. "What's up?" He asked gently, placing me back on my feet with one hand lingering around my waist.

Still shivering, I leaned closer to him. "We have to talk." I didn't mean for my words to scare him, but he visibly paled in the moonlight when I uttered such a thing. With a curt nod, he laced his fingers with mine and we both set off toward the edge of the parking lot where we could talk without anyone (or Noah, rather) interrupting.

We stopped soon, and I turned to face him. He looked down at me with concern clouding his hazel gaze, and with a sigh I launched into my brief, cut-up explanation. "You—you remember who I was telling you about in the arcade?"

"Tyler?" He answered, and I smiled despite everything. He'd remembered. Our sort-of date at the arcade had been one of the only times we could be alone, and subsequently one of the only times I really opened up to him. And of course, it had to be about Tyler. I admit I'd been a little vague with him even back then, but he got the gist of it and knew my story with Tyler.

"That's the one," I said grimly. "Well, fuck. Evan... he overdosed, two nights ago. I just got in touch with his mom, who's almost like my mom too, and—fuck," Explaining this was a whole lot harder than I'd hoped it would be, and his eyes widened when the first tear made its appearance, his thumb gently brushing it away.

He brought me closer, automatically thinking the worst, and gave me a tight hug. I wasn't hesitant to return in, and wrapped my arms around his neck. It was nice to finally have someone understand me. "He's in the hospital," I muttered into his shirt, and hoped he would hear me. "He mightn't make it, Ev. I have to go see him."

His grip around my waist tightened for a moment, as if he didn't want to let me go, and then he pulled away altogether. "What? Why?"

Did he not hear me?

"He mightn’t make it," I stressed, and my heart dropped when he remained unmoving. "Evan, please tell me you understand why I have to do this. I have to go home and I have to make sure he's okay."

There was no alternative for me. Tyler wasn't going to die, not if I could help it.

"So, what?" He snapped, surprising me with his sudden, harsh tone. "You're just going to leave me here, and run back to that kid? After everything he did to you?"

Okay, so he definitely didn’t understand. Perhaps I'd been a little too vague at the arcade, after all. "No, no Evan! That's not what I'm doing—he's just a friend—"

What I was saying didn't soothe whatever his testosterone influenced mind had concluded, and without so much as even looking back at me he stormed away, back toward his band's van. I felt like punching something. For the first time in a long time I felt my anger, my sadness, my worry and every other emotion I was bottling up overwhelm me, but I didn't flip out. I didn't try and beat someone up.

I just stood there, numb, and watched as Evan walked away from me.