You're Gone

Sighing, I walked to my room slowly and turned the light on. Everything was neat and prim and proper, nothing like the flat I lived in two years ago was. Everything was clean because that's how Dylan wanted it to look when I was away. Because she took care of the room, the flat, the rent, all while I was away in Bournemouth wondering how I was even still alive.

I never understood why Dylan was so good to me. We had known each other since diapers, sure, but that wasn't a good enough reason to constantly clean up someone's perpetual mess. The fact of the matter was I didn't deserve everything Dylan had ever done for me. And I wasn't sure I could ever make it up to her, or even try to convey it in words. She did everything for me. And I just was someone who made her life hard.

To me, her life was everything I had ever dreamed of. She had a perfect boyfriend in Lee, a perfect family in her mother and father, a perfect job as a tattoo artist, a perfect grade point average in school where she was working towards a business degree so she could open up her own shop, and she was gorgeous. I had always been envious of her, though I had never admitted it. But how could I not be? I had always been a fuck up and having Dylan as a best friend was like looking at the green grass on the other side of the fence.

After snapping out of my semi daze I decided to shower. I was still getting used to the idea of being home and being able to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. Once I had showered I trudged back into my room slowly, beads of water falling from my body and hair onto the floor and forming small puddles as I went. I grabbed a simple large grey sweater and a pair of leggings. Dylan had bought me new clothes too. I hadn't had very many when I checked into rehab and so she got me some. She claimed most of them were hand-me-downs from her, but she had forgotten to pull the price tag off a few of the shirts and jeans.

Even though she had bought most of them from a thrift store, the thought behind it meant more to me than anything else. I sat there and cried in my new pile of clothes when they arrived to my room a few days after she sent them to me.

By the time I was half-way done with making myself a sandwich, Matt Nicholls' loud voice was bouncing off the walls of the flat. "WHERE THA FUCK 'RE YEH, TRISTAN?!"

I couldn't suppress the smile that was fighting its way onto my lips. And when they all barged their way into the kitchen, disregarding furniture of the fact there was a knife in my hand before enveloping me in a hug, I wanted to cry. And when I saw Tom had tagged along as well, I did cry. It wasn't so much that I was particularly close with him or that I considered him a better friend than any of the other guys, but it was the fact that he was Oliver's brother. And I knew I had put his family through a lot. And I knew he didn't have to like me. Or come over and see me. Or even acknowledge my existence. But there he was, joining in on the group hug the other boys were so into.

"Why 're yeh cryin' already? We didn't even show you tha presents we got yeh!" Kean exclaimed excitedly when they all began to let me go.

"Yeh guys are jus'..." I shook my head, as I struggled to find the words to express myself properly. "I love yeh," I decided on. "An' Tom- yeh didn't hafta come," I added in a much smaller voice.

"Yeh're my friend, Tristan," he shrugged. "Of course I hadta come."

"Tha's why she said," Matt smirked. The rest of the boys rolled their eyes and it was then I noticed someone standing off awkwardly to the side. He was covered head to toe in tattoos (at least from what I could see), and he had a mop of sandy hair sitting on his head. I recognized him from somewhere, but couldn't put my finger on it. It was an effect of the drugs if anything...my memory wasn't the best.

"Oh!" Tom exclaimed, noticing my curious glances. "This is Jona," he introduced the guy. Jona smiled at me widely and took a few steps over to give me a hug. I smiled at this, wrapping my arms around him and returning his kind gesture almost immediately. "'e's playin' wiff tha guys now."

"Wha'?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Curtis left," Kean broke the news to me.

"Wha'?!"

"'e jus' wasn't havin' it anymore," Matt shrugged, his hands shoved in his back pockets and an indifferent look on his face.

"'e jus'...left?" I asked slowly. "Why didn't Dylan tell me?"

"'s wasn't important when yeh were away," Tom said, like it was obvious. "Yeh had more important fhings ta worry about."

"But wha' 'appened. Yeh guys all seemed so 'appy wiff everyfhing."

"After we wrote Suicide Season everyfhing jus' sorta went bad. 'e wanted ta be 'ome. 'is heart wasn't in it," Matt explained.

"So we stole Jona from Bleeding Through," Kean smiled.

"Yeh were in I Killed the Prom Queen too, yeah?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I guess yeh're alrigh' then. 'specially if tha guys like yeh," I smiled, nodding towards my friends. They all smiled as well and knocked Jona around a bit before setting their eyes back to me. "So what're yeh guys doin' now?"

"We're just finished with the new record," Jona answered.

"I 'aven't really even listened to Suicide Season," I admitted. "I heard good fhings but I jus'...I couldn't listen to it," I added it a small voice.

"We understand," Matt nodded. "I'm sure Dyl has a copy though. Give it a listen. An' yeh should come by tha studio and 'ear some of tha new record if yeah 'ave time."

"I 'ave lots of time now," I admitted with a small forced smile.

"We can keep yeh occupied," Tom smiled widely at me. "'specially me. I don't 'ave much ta do at all lately."

I didn't give him a verbal answer, only nodded and continued to smile. I didn't know if they knew how much it pained me to see them. I was so fucking happy they weren't acting any differently towards me that I wanted to cry. And then it made me think about how cool everything was before the drugs, before rehab, before now, and I wanted to cry even harder. But then I thought about Oli and a familiar feeling of nothing coursed through me. I had constructed a brick wall around certain memories that involved him, certain feelings I had once associated with him, only to keep myself sane.

In rehab they tried to make me face my demons; force me to face that night head on. But I refused. I couldn't. I physically and mentally couldn't handle it. I knew I would have done something horrible if I was forced to relive it. So I made myself numb. I became desensitized. I faked my way through rehab. Just the emotional part though. I kicked my drug habit, but I knew even after two years of being clean I was still vulnerable. And that was all because I couldn't face those demons. Because I ignored everything that once made me feel anything. Because I so badly wanted to forget.

"I'm really glad yeh guys 're here," I told them, my voice small as I avoided their eye contact.

"We're glad ta 'ave yeh back. We missed yeh," Matt told me.

My eyes were glistening, practically brimming with tears as I looked back up at the four boys standing in front of me. I was so thankful they were there and they didn't hate me, and for a second I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. And that's all I needed. To know that one day, no matter how far off it was, that things were going to be okay.