Run

And I always find, yeah, I always find somethin’ wrong.

Paul Bissonnette was a complainer.

The most aggravating human being I knew.

Everytime something wouldn't go his way, he would blow up on it; living or nonliving.

Though, through all of this, I stayed with him as a friend; supporting him no matter how much I opposed his views.

"Goddam Kovalchuk! Needs to go back to fucking Russia!"

I heard the door slam violently to the apartment I shared with Paul, my face falling into an annoyed expression, contemplating whether to leave this time or stay and listen to him vent his frustrations for an hour. I began to get up from the couch when Paul stomped into the living room where I was seated, his hands in fists as his eyes darted to me, a look of complete resentment overtaking him. I frowned and sunk back into the couch. Guess I'm stuck now.

"Goddam, Brooks. Why must the NHL always fight it's way to get a huge media story to get the league press attention?!" He threw his arms up and then crossed them over his face, grunting loudly into his arms. I sighed and leaned my chin on my fist.

"First of all, could you refrain from calling me Brooks? It reminds me of a guy, namely Brooks Orpik. Ever heard of him-"

"Focus, Brooklyn!"

I frowned once again at Paul as he removed his hands from his face, his expression seemingly getting angrier and darker by the second. I cleared my throat as he began pacing angrily in front of the TV, staring intently at the floor. "Paul, I'm sure the NHL didn't reject the guy's contract just to get media attention on the league-"

"Bullshit! That's all it's ever about anymore! The NHL wants to be like the NFL now, with all of the press attention those whores get-"

"PAUL!"

He stopped shouting abruptly and glared at me, hands balling into fists again. I rubbed a hand over my face as he continued to glare at me, huffing in short spurts as I remained silent for a few more moments. "Could you please calm down? All of the stress you're putting on yourself isn't helping you out on the ice-"

"Whatever, Brooklyn! You don't get it!" He waved me off before turning on his heel and heading down the hall to his room, slamming the door so hard it shook the wall. I winced a bit as the wall began to compose itself, standing still once again. I brought my gaze down to the floor and crossed my arms, my expression remaining neutral. I was tired of fighting with Paul.

Oh, yeah. What do I know? What does Brooklyn know about minuscule problems that have nothing to do with Paul?

I blew a strand of hair out of my face and looked down the hallway at Paul's closed door, knowing he was in there venting his anger he wasn't able to vent to me to thousands of people he didn't know on Twitter. Twitter, that fucking website.

I stopped myself from getting frustrated over something on the internet as I felt my forehead crease, slowly letting my face fall back to normal out of the angry expression.

What Paul and I shared was the ability to get angry or aggravated on a dime. We were both short fused. The tiniest thing could set us both in a bad mood, but Paul was a bit more vulnerable to it, whereas I had the ability to calm myself down easily.

I heard another loud slam and brought my attention back to his door, figuring he was slamming drawers on his dressers. I sighed, once again, and stood up from the couch, deciding I should go and attempt to sooth him before I went to bed; dreading the fact that if I didn't he would begin breaking things in the middle of the night in his unnecessary tirade.

I walked up to his door and gingerly placed my hand on the knob, twisting it and opening the door enough so I could stick my head in. The room was dark, the only light illuminating the room was coming from his computer which he was sitting in front of hunched over and typing furiously in nothing but sweatpants.

I opened the door slowly so I could slip into the room, making sure not to make any noise in the process. I closed it softly behind me and walked over towards the bed by his computer, stepping over hockey pants, sticks, and other articles of clothing as I did. I accidentally kicked one of his helmets and it went flying across the room, slamming into the wall next to the computer. I winced and shut my eyes, my heart speeding up as I contemplated running out of there when he caught me in his room during one of his moods. I waited and the screaming never came.

I scrunched my eyebrows together and then cracked open one of my eyes, looking over at Paul who was still typing along on the computer, seemingly unfazed by the loud noise. I stood straight and opened my eyes fully, crossing my arms as I heard buzzing coming from around Paul. I looked closer and noticed his iPod's earbuds were in his ears, the music blasting loudly from the things.

I laughed to myself softly and then continued towards the bed, sitting down gently on it behind him and watching as he clicked through various websites. I heard him sigh and then click out of the internet completely, going into the files on his computer and bringing up one that was full of personal pictures. He shifted through them quickly, my eyes attempting to keep up as his teammates', parents', and friends' faces flew by on the screen. A picture of him and I popped up on the screen and he stopped abruptly, staring at the picture as he bit his lip. I studied the picture; it was a picture of Paul and I goofing off on my birthday, I in his Coyotes jersey and cake splattered everywhere. I noticed something in the picture I had learned to miss over the past couple of days: His carefree smile.

Paul sat back in the chair suddenly and crossed his arms, still staring at the picture on the screen. I let my eyes linger on the picture for a few more seconds before bringing them onto Paul's tense form. His sudden grunt of anger scared me and I jumped a bit, feeling my heart rate speed up as his mouth twitched into a scowl.

"I'm such an asshole to her. She's really the only one I have that actually sticks around when I go off about nothing," He paused and brought his eyes downward. "If I happen to lose her I don't know what I'll do."

He slammed his arms down on the computer desk and then brought his head down soon after, shouting loud, muffled sentences into his skin. I watched him, frozen in a sitting position on the bed, as he stood up and bent towards the floor, picking up one of the strewn hockey sticks. He looked at it and then raised it above his head, turning towards the bed and beginning to bring it down in anger on the mattress.

I stared at him as his eyes opened before he could bring it down, his face turning into an expression of shock as his eyes landed on my own. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever until he lowered his arms slowly and threw the stick to the ground, his gaze ripping from mine as he stared down at the stick now on the floor.

I stared at him as I remained frozen, watching as his hands turned into fists at his side and his body began to tremble. He collapsed to the floor and leaned against the wall, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his forehead on his knees; the earbuds still blasting music into his ears.

I bit my lip as I mechanically began sliding towards the end of the bed, slipping off of it and onto the floor next to him. I reached a hand out and removed the earbuds from his ears, setting the iPod on the bed next to me. I began to reach my arms toward him when he spoke suddenly, scaring my arms back to my sides.

"Don't touch me, Brooklyn. Just leave me alone for a while."

My mouth gaped as I stared at him, unmoving from his side. He must have sensed this and he grunted, keeping his face covered. "Go!"

I slammed my mouth shut and then got up swiftly, jumping over articles on his bedroom floor as I got to the door, opening it and running out, shutting it loudly behind my form.

It was then that I realized I was running from him once again.

You been puttin’ up with my shit just way too long.

~**~

I’m so gifted at findin’ what I don’t like the most.

The afternoon after Paul and I had had such a heavily emotional meeting, so to say, the air was still dense. I stared at the TV as Sports Center flashed across the screen once again, my arm hanging off of the side of the couch clutching the remote as I lied sideways.

I slowly drifted my eyes to Paul's closed door, assuming he was still in his bed sleeping. My assumption was soon shattered as I heard his door open and slam shut, my eyes darting back to the TV.

"I'm going to the bar."

He didn't wait for me to say anything back as he pulled on his jacket hastily, grabbing his keys off of the kitchen counter in one motion and walking out of the apartment, slamming that door behind him, as well. I stared at the closed door as my mind tried to catch up with and process what had just happened.

My eyes went wide as realization of where he was going hit me and I flew off of the couch, running into my room and jumping up and down as I quickly pulled my boots onto my feet. I had to go after Paul. I had to stop him before he drank himself into oblivion and dragged his ass home at midnight, screaming and shouting at me about nothing like he had done once before.

I ran down the hallway and grabbed my own keys, closing the door to the apartment behind me as I ran to my car. I got in and jammed the keys into the ignition, hearing the engine of the H2 Hummer Paul had gotten me for Christmas roar to life. I backed out of the driveway and then began my drive to the local bar I knew I would find Paul at.

---

I walked into the bar I imagined Paul to be at and immediately felt the need to gag. A gust of what smelled like cigarette smoke mixed with alcohol was blown towards me and I coughed, slamming a fist into my chest as I squinted into the dimly lit bar, scanning around the place and looking for that familiar face.

"Fuck that, dude! I'm worth way more than they pay me! Especially since I fight about every jackass that skates past me!"

I heard someone screaming at the bar and recognized the voice immediately as Paul's. I looked over and saw him laughing with two other people at the bar, a beer glass clutched tightly in his right hand. I bit my lip and watched him, deciding against walking over to him just yet. I slid into a seat at a vacated table and watched Paul continue to laugh with the two strangers I guessed were fans and knew him from the Coyotes.

Someone laughed obnoxiously from the table next to me and I looked over, seeing the guy pointing towards Paul and the two other guys at the bar. "Hey, it's the dumbass that thinks he's the next Wayne fucking Gretzky of the Coyotes!"

My eyes widened at the guy when I realized none of this was going to end well. I looked over at the bar and saw Paul slowly turn towards the guy, the other two following suit. "What did you say, bitch?"

The guy at the table next to me stood up quickly, knocking the chair over behind him. "You heard me, Bissonnette! Think you're the tough shit, don't you?"

I looked back over at Paul and saw him grip the glass in his hand tighter, his knuckles beginning to turn white. He stood up from his bar stool and let go of the glass, walking over towards the guy. "You want to go? I'll show you that you messed with the wrong guy you son of a bitch!"

The guy laughed loudly and obnoxiously at Paul and nodded, beginning to walk towards the door of the bar. "Hell yeah! Outside right now!"

Paul chuckled menacingly and slipped his jacket off, throwing it to the floor as he began pulling the sleeves of his long sleeved shirt up to his elbows. He followed the guy out of the bar and I grit my teeth, my eyes landing on his jacket on the floor. I stood up and bent down, picking it up and folding it over my arms as I walked out of the bar.

I braced myself for what I thought I would see and then bit my lip when I realized all of what was going on was definitely real. I watched as Paul and the guy twitched and convulsed wildly on the ground in the middle of the street. I watched as Paul's fists made solid contact with the guy's face, a sickening crack echoing through the empty street. The guy flipped them both over and brought his fist down on the area right below Paul's ribcage, an audible gasp sounding from deep in Paul's throat as he grabbed for the guys arms.

I grit my teeth and threw down Paul's jacket, running towards the two. I had had enough.

And this time, I wasn't running from the situation.

"Paul! Stop!"

He ignored my shouts and continued to fight with the stranger, pushing all of his strength into flipping the two of them over again so he was sitting on the guy as he punched him. I launched myself towards Paul and wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and shoulders, pulling him back from the guy he had pinned. He struggled against me as I kept my hold, my eyes shutting tightly as I pulled once again, feeling him lose his balance and fall backwards on top of me. He grunted as he lied there and huffed, his chest heaving violently up and down.

I kept my arms wrapped around him from behind him as I opened my eyes, feeling the weight of his body begin to cause a slight pain in my chest. "Paul."

I felt breathless as the word left my mouth and Paul's head jerked back to look at me, his eyes going wide as he removed my arms from his neck and shoulders and grabbed my arms, pulling me to my feet and against his chest. "Brooklyn what are you doing here?"

I pushed away from him and he let me go reluctantly, looking at me as I looked down at the front of my body. I sighed as I saw blood stains faintly cover my jeans and t-shirt. Paul looked at my clothes and then down to his knuckles which were still covered in blood; both from cuts on his hands and the stranger's bloody nose.

"I just realized that enough is enough, Paul. You need to change."

He didn't look at me as I looked over at him and then to the guy still lying on the street, his nose beginning to freshly run with blood once again. I jerked my head away from him and winced, crossing my arms. I heard Paul take a step back and I looked up, seeing him walk towards his car. I slowly followed him and then stood in front of him when he leaned back limply against his car. He looked down at the ground and kicked the pavement, attempting to wipe off the blood on his hands on his jeans.

I sighed and grabbed his hands, holding them so that both he and I could examine them. Blood still trickled from small cuts on his knuckles and ran down the creases of his hands, falling to the ground in drops.

"What happened to me?"

I didn't look up at Paul as he spoke, my eyes still fixed on the movement of the drops of blood. "Nothing happened to you. You just got out of control," I squeezed his hands lightly. "And this time I wasn't there to stop it before it got out of hand."

We stayed silent for a few moments and then I felt Paul return the squeeze to my own hands. "I want to change, Brooklyn," He paused and then sighed lightly. "For the better of both of us."

"And I want you to change for the both of us. This can't go on like this forever." We both looked at each other at the same time and I cracked a fragile smile, watching as his eyes studied my face.

I didn't have time to react as he pulled me into a tight embrace, holding me tightly against his chest as my arms immediately wrapped around his broad torso. I closed my eyes as we held each other, his head resting lightly on top of mine.

"I'm going to change for the better," He squeezed me a bit tighter and I returned the gesture, sighing. "Because I love you, Brooklyn."

So I think it’s time for us to have a toast.

~**~

Baby, I got a plan,
Run away fast as you can.