You're Gone

Amanda never came back that night. I would have thought that I'd lose sleep over it, but I didn't. Quite the opposite actually, I passed out just as soon as my head hit the pillow. My dreams were infected with Oliver's lips and rather disturbing imagines of hospitals and our old flat, but for the most part I slept soundly for the first time in what felt like forever. I think I stopped realizing how much I really wasn't sleeping. Or rather, how much really terrible sleep I was getting. That night though, I was in dead sleep which is why I thought it was weird that whispers woke me up.

"Don't yeh even tell me tha' Lee," Dylan hissed lowly.

"Don't kill tha messenger!" He defended himself.

"I wouldn't kill yeh," she replied, and I knew she was rolling her eyes. "I swear 's like 'e enjoys bein' miserable."

"'e probably does."

"Well 'e better shape up righ' soon if yeh're leavin' fer tour in a week," she said matter-of-factly. "An' 'e better talk ta Tristan. Especially after tha stunt 'e pulled las' nigh'. I swear, 'e's proper lucky I don't 'ave tha righ' mind ta go over there an' kick 'is arse."

"Yeh should probably jus' let them talk it out alone," Lee suggested quietly. "Yeh can't always be in 'er business."

"I think I do a pretty good job of stayin' out of 'er business fhank yeh very much," she told him. "I jus' give 'er advice an' take care of 'er when she needs it."

"Yeh're not 'er mum, Dyl," Lee informed her. "Yeh 'ave ta let 'er make 'er own decisions sometimes."

I felt like I was a child again hearing her parents fight about her. I wasn't upset she had already told Lee about everything because I expected she would. She told Lee everything, and vice versa. And it wasn't like I had told her not to tell anyone. I guess it sort of went without saying, but still, I understood why she told Lee. He was literally her other half. She hadn't told him for the wrong reasons, she wasn't gossiping, and she didn't want to hurt me anymore.

But it still sort of stung to hear them talk about me like that. Like I couldn't take care of myself. Like I had destroyed my own life and they were just there to pick up the pieces. I appreciated everything Dylan ever did for me, I really did. I firmly believed that without her sticking me in rehab that I would have overdosed in the alley somewhere on the streets of Sheffield. But it still kind of hurt to know that she had been the one responsible for all of that.
What the fuck was wrong with me that I couldn't take care of myself?

After deciding I had already eavesdropped enough, I pulled on a sweatshirt and walked out into the living room where both Lee and Dylan were standing looking rather frantic. I'm sure they were worried I had overheard them.

"She didn't leave 'im, did she?" I asked, my voice completely flat.

Dylan glanced over to Lee, then to the ground, then just over my shoulder, sighed, and then said, "No."

The word no had never hit me so fucking hard before.

Despite all of the shit that had gone on, I really wanted to believe it was going to end here. I wanted to believe that Amanda would go home to Oliver, he would tell her he kissed me, she would break-up with him, and he would come over to my flat and tell me he loved me and he was sorry. But I suppose my life wasn't like that. Or maybe real life just wasn't like that. I probably would never get a happy ending and I just needed to learn to accept it.
Lee silently slipped out of the room and into his and Dylan's bedroom, leaving us alone. I was thankful for him always knowing what do it, and it made me envy Dylan that much more. Her boyfriend was so perceptive, and here I was dealing with someone who blamed me for everything bad that ever happened in his life.

"I'm so sorreh, Tristan," Dylan said, her voice genuine. I expected nothing less from her though. Dylan never wished bad on anyone, especially me. "I jus' wish all of this shit would end an' 'e'd realize wha' a twat 'e's bein'."

"No," I shook my head, uttering the word Dylan had just broke my heart with. "'s okay," I nodded. "This is probably 'ow fhings should go."

"Wha're yeh talkin' about?" She asked, raising her eyebrow.

"We probably shouldn't be togefher," I said what I had been on my mind for a few weeks now. The thought had plagued me for some time and it felt weird to finally say it out loud.

I was in love with Oliver Sykes, this I was sure of. But just because I loved him didn't mean we should be together. Because sometimes love wasn't enough. Love didn't keep us together after the tragedy of losing our child. Love didn't bring us back together after we saw each other after two years apart. Love didn't make everything he said to me go away. Love didn't do any of these things; love didn't mean I was good for him. Amanda was good for him. Amanda had kept his life together for two years. Amanda made him happy. And maybe I had made him happy at one point, or maybe it was all just the drugs, but I just didn't seem to have the same effect on him anymore. Wanting him so badly felt so fucking wrong to me. I felt guilty for it, honestly. And then I thought about the kiss and how crushed Amanda would be if she ever found out and I just felt worse.

"Wha' are yeh even sayin'?" Dylan exclaimed. "Do you want ta be wiff 'im?"

"Well...yeah bu-"

"There's no buts in this situation Tristan," she told me sternly, her hands finding their way to her hips. "I love Amanda, I realleh do, but I love yeh more. Yeh're me best mate an' I know 'ow 'appy yeh two used ta make each other. An' it wasn't jus' the drugs. The way yeh two looked at each ofther..." she paused to shake her head slightly. "I know yeh love 'im."

"But fhings aren't like they used ta be Dylan! 'e 'as someone! I can't ruin that fer 'im," I yelled desperately, my voice becoming strangled towards the end of the sentence.

"Don't ever feel bad fer lovin' someone," she advised me. "If yeh only listen ta one fhing I've ever said, listen ta tha'."

Dylan and Lee left shortly after our talk. They rarely ever got time to themselves and apparently Lee had a lot of things planned for them. He had told me how he planned to take her away to London for a the weekend before they set off on a long US tour and the thought of them having a wonderful time made me smile, even though it made me think of my own lack of relationship. I couldn't be jealous of my best friend. I was just glad at least someone got to experience a normal and healthy relationship.

As much as Dylan suggested I get together with some of the boys, I honestly couldn't bring myself to call any of them. My mood was too horrible for me to be around anyone. None of them deserved to deal with this. But just because I didn't call them, didn't mean I didn't think about calling anyone.

In fact, most of my day was spent lying in my bed staring at my phone. And I wasn't sure why because when I really thought about it I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to deal with the hole we had dug ourselves into. I didn't want him to tell me he and Amanda had made up and he regretted kissing me.

I think I just wanted things to go back to normal. I missed lying next to him and feeling his body heat radiate onto mine. I missed kissing him knowing he was only mine. I missed the silent I love yous we would express with only our eyes. I just missed him. I missed him so fucking much that it left my insides hollow. I yearned so badly for the feelings of yesterday that it angered me to think I'd never get them back. The most frustrating thing to me wasn't that he wasn't here with me now, it was that if he was I wasn't sure I'd ever feel the same way I felt as I did two years ago.

I missed something I wasn't sure I could ever have back.

Darkness had fallen over Sheffield when I finally felt my eyes grow heavy. My body was slowly drifting off into a state of unconsciousness when my phone began to light up. My eyes immediately snapped open and I stared at it warily for quite some time before my shaking hand finally reached for it.

I gasped at the sight of his name lighting up the screen and almost didn't believe it until I pressed accept and then turned on the speaker phone as I placed it down next to my face.

"Tris?" His voice was horse as he spoke, like he hadn't done so in days. I didn't answer. All I could do was blink. "Tris?" He said again, his voice much lower this time.

"Ye-yeah?" I finally sputtered out. I wasn't sure he had even heard me because he didn't answer right away. I thought I had imagined everything when he finally spoke again.

"I jus', I jus' uh...." he trailed off slowly. "I wanted ta 'ear yeh voice."

I closed my eyes slowly and I breathed in one shaky breath as I willed myself not to cry. How could he do this to me? How could he think any of this was okay?

"Oh," was all I said. It was all I could say. On the contrary to how most people feel when they get worked up, I could barely feel my heart beat against my ribcage. It was like my senses were dulled and the only thing I was aware of was the boy on the other end of the phone line.

"I guess I jus' miss fallin' asleep next ta yeh....hearin' yeh breathe..." he sighed. I could tell by the tone of his voice he was regretting this call. But it wasn't the kind of regret where he wished he hadn't called because he might get caught by his live in girlfriend, it was the kind of regret where he knew this would make this more complicated. There's a saying; out of sight, out of mind. Oliver was a true believer of this saying. Which is why he hated me moving back to Sheffield. Which is why he hated seeing me. Which is why he left the hospital and never looked back. Which is why he regretted this phone call. He so desperately wanted to forget me, but everything around him was making that impossible. And maybe I wanted to forget him too. Maybe I wished things like the memory erasing machine in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind existed. Maybe I wished I had never met him. Maybe.

Or maybe what I really wished was that he was here next to me, instead of just hearing his voice over the phone.

"Do yeh fhink yeh could just stay on tha line? Jus' lemme pretend fhings were 'ow they used ta be..." his voice just barely above a whisper.

"Yeah," I nodded, though I knew he couldn't see me. I wrapped my arms around my chest and pulled my knees up against me. "I could do tha'..."

"Why?" He asked, his tone sounding slightly bewildered.

"Why wha'?" I whispered.

"Why do yeh always do tha?" He asked, his voice rising slightly.

"Do wha'?" I asked, still confused as to what he was asking. I could tell he was getting agitated, and I wasn't sure if it was because he regretted calling me or for another unknown reason; the reason was unclear.

"Yeh make it so easy ta wan' yeh," he muttered. "I 'ave me girlfriend in tha next room an' I snuck out ta call yeh," he explained. "It shouldn't be tha' way."

His frustrations radiated over the phone and I could almost see him sitting on his couch, hunched over as he tugged at his growing hair. To me though, everything just seemed sort of surreal. I went from half wishing he would call, to him actually calling, to him saying he missed falling asleep next to me, and now him saying he wish he would have never called. I imagined his thoughts were much like mine these days though: frantic. So many conflicting thoughts had been bouncing around in my head lately that I had started to think I was going crazy. I was starting to think maybe the Xanax and maybe the Zoloft wasn't enough to keep my moods and thoughts balanced. I guess this was just the first time I fully realized that maybe Oliver was feeling the same way too.

"Yeh fhink I don't know tha'?" I asked him, though my voice held no malice.

"She fell asleep next ta me an' all I could fhink about was callin' yeh an' 'earing yeh talk. Or hearing yeh say my name. All of tha' sappy bullshit...." He sighed deeply. "Tha's not righ'."
"Oliver," I breathed, his name leaving my lips and resulting in a soft sigh from his lips on the other end of the line.

"'s 'ard," he told me, his voice muffled.

"I know."

"Yeh're gonna stay on tha' line, righ'?"

"Yeah," I nodded.

"Good."

I fell asleep soundly for the first time in two years.