You're Gone

It seemed that a brief trip to LA was all Oliver needed to finish recording vocals on the album. They were gone and back again in less than two weeks. And when they came back to Sheffield they did so with a much more positive outlook on the future of their new record. In fact, Lee said they just had to finish up some post production and they would be done. They were releasing it in October. Two months.

If I'm being quite honest, I was terrified.

After listening to Suicide Season on repeat for nearly three weeks and hearing The Sadness, and even Chelsea Smile, and then knowing the real damage Oliver could do when it comes to writing vicious lyrics, I was terrified to hear what he was going to say about me. I already knew he was angry, and before I went to sleep at night all I could think about was all of the horrible things he was going to scream. All of the words that would leave his throat in the most horrible growl he could muster.

But that was just like Oliver to turn all of his feelings into anger. Because he really was the best at being angry. He was good about writing lyrics that made you feel sorry for whoever he wrote them about, he was good and screaming until his lungs were on fire and his throat was shredded. That suited him pretty well, actually. Anger and all of that.

But that certainly left a massive void for the rest of his emotions. Or maybe just sadness in particular. Happiness was easy for him to come by because besides the mess I had made of his life he was doing well for himself. Because if I'm speaking honestly, I knew Oliver pretty well and I knew that sometimes he got upset. But I also knew that he was excellent at masking it.

"Tha's seriously tha most awkwardly worded title I've eva 'eard," Dylan shook her head as she did the dishes. Lee was helping her and they were chatting about the album title, There is a Hell, Believe me I've seen it, There is a Heaven Let's Keep it a Secret. I was sitting at the table pushing my food around on my plate, looking busy. "Oli's gone all sensitive artist, hasn't 'e?"

"Yeah, but it made for some great songs," Lee enthused.

I could tell how excited he was. All the guys were really. They thought this work was one of their finest, and I couldn't help but feel like I had a slight part in that. Regardless it that was a vain statement or not, I knew it was true. Lee hadn't flat out told me a lot of the songs were about me, but I could tell that was the case by the way he tiptoed around the subject.

"I can't wait ta 'ear em," Dylan smiled, leaning and placing a short kiss on Lee's lips. I stopped pushing my food around then, and chose to focus on Dylan and Lee. It was always strange to watch them interact, because they were the only healthy relationship I knew. I mean, they loved each other. They really loved each other. They didn't even have to indulge in PDA for you to know so, either. It was all in the way they looked at each other, the way they interacted. I always watched them with wide eyes, knowing that after seven years they still looked at each other like they had in the beginning.

Their relationship always made me question the one Oliver and I had. To everyone around us we were bad for each other. We were on drugs for most of our relationship, after all. But somewhere in all of that we were able to find some sort of comfort. And I knew the love was there. I knew I wasn't crazy. I knew that love was the only thing I really felt besides the drugs that whole time. But then I looked at Dylan and Lee and I felt terrible about everything.

Because I just never knew it drugs was what really kept us together. I always wondered if
things would have been different if they didn't exist. If things would have still played out the way they did. If love still would have found us in that awkward way it had.

"Tristan!"

I blinked hard and suddenly became incredibly aware of the fact I had gotten lost in my thoughts, my eyes boring into the couple. Dylan looked quite frightened by this and Lee just looked confused.

"Yeah?" I asked dumbly.

"'re yeh alrigh'?" She asked slowly, her eyes full on concern.

"Yeah," I repeated, only this time in the form of a statement. I even went to far as to smile, but I knew they both saw right through it.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Lee was the one to speak up first. Both Dylan and I looked over to him with curious glances. It wasn't like Lee to jump into conversations where he knew he wasn't needed. But here he was, telling me not to worry. And I knew he wasn't just telling me this because he was dating my best friend. I knew he was telling me this because he cared. And honestly, I really needed that. Because it was good to feel wanted and loved once in a while. And that was something I hadn't felt in quite some time.

"Yeh fhink?" I asked.

"'e's pretty harmless," he shrugged. "'e wouldn't do nofhing ta upset yeh."

I nodded, even though I didn't exactly agree with him. Maybe what he meant to say was he would never write anything to upset me. Because he had upset me. He had upset me to a point where I was sure the only option was to die. He had upset me to a point where I felt so extremely worthless that I knew exactly what the term "rock bottom" meant. But he still never wrote anything to upset me. Even the songs on Suicide Season were nothing to be scared of. Because he was simply just writing down things he wouldn't normally say out loud. Because even though he was angry he didn't take any particular jab at me that made me all too uncomfortable.

"An' if 'e did, 'e knows I'd beat 'is arse," Dylan smiled widely.

"Yeh'd probably win too," Lee added.

I let a small smile cross my face at that moment and I think that made Dylan and Lee feel a little better. Because they knew I wasn't faking it. And suddenly I felt extremely childish. Like they were always looking out for me. Like I was a baby or something. And suddenly it all became clear that my addiction and my mood wasn't only effecting me. And that made me feel horrible.

"Sorreh," I said abruptly. I hadn't really thought all too much about saying anything at all. It just sort of slipped out of my mouth, missing the filter between my brain and my mouth.

"For wha'?" Dylan asked curiously.

"For bein' so bloody difficult," I told me. "I know I've been a proper mess lately, an' 's selfish of me to act like tha'."

"Tristan, yeh 'ave a problem. None of us blame yeh."

"Even if yeh don't blame me, I don't wan' yeh ta let me rub off on yeh. I know it was all much better before I came back."

"Don't let wha' Oli says get ta yeh 'ead," Dylan informed me. "'e's not speakin' for everyone, yeh know. In fact, I don't even fhink 'e's speakin' for 'imself. Boy's probably got jus' as many problems as yeh 'ave," she nodded towards me.

She didn't even know the half of it.