Underneath and Unexplored.

Past

“You never fight fair.” John pouted with a grin threatening to tug at his lips as he made use of his puppy dog eyes.
Cecilia broke down into a fit of giggles on their sofa, pillow equipped and ready for attack, “Well, you’re just a… a… stupid head!”
“Oh, come on! Sometimes I wonder if you’re even days past 18 let alone-”

John was cut off by the shrill ringtone of his phone, and with a teeth clenched groan he leaned over his pouting girlfriend to reach for the cause of the noise. Upon reading the caller I.D., John grinned.

“What brings me the pleasure of speaking to my ONE and ONLY princess Kirch?” John chuckled, emphasizing ‘one’ and ‘only’.

“KING Kirch, comes bearing good news… three words for you, my baby bitchtits: TOUR. NEXT. WEEK.” Without a doubt, Tim’s composure was long gone after addressing John with the nickname.

“No. Fucking. Way. You goddamn butt monkey. That’s so fucking awesome man. Headlining act here we come.” He screamed down the phone, leaving Cee with a confused look. She mouthed, “Tour next week?” with sad eyes to John. He gave her an apologetic look and an, “I’ll explain later.”

Cecilia became resentful, knowing that John was completely aware of their anniversary being the week after yet seeming completely indifferent to the fact. Don’t get her wrong, she was by no means superficial; more so a hopeless romantic. She watched him mumble a goodbye and hang up as John slowly turned to her, preparing himself for the wrath in the form of Cecilia Almarez.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME JOHN?” She fumed.

John began before Cecilia cut him off, “Look, you don’t know how s-”

“WE HAVE NOT SPENT ONE ANNIVERSARY TOGETHER FOR THE PAST 2 YEARS. Two. Fucking. Years. John.”

“I know, sweetheart but-”

“You know what, fuck it. We just moved in, and you’re leaving already? What was the point in all of my efforts? God, I should’ve realised. You’re never home anyway, I’ll just be living alone as per usual. I shouldn’t have even moved out of my old apartment, it would have been closer to campus and-” Cecilia drifted into a soft mumbling of rambles to herself, as if contemplating whether her and John’s relationship was really worth it. Upon realising Cee’s sway in thoughts, John stayed silent. He didn’t know what to do or to say so left them both in an uncomfortable and awkward silence. He could apologise, of course he could – but that wouldn’t solve much. John knew how tired Cecilia was of all the apologies. Taking a huge breath, Cecilia began to speak again.

“John. I hate seeing you leave. I really don’t think you understand how much it hurts to see your other half leave for months on end, to wake up to an empty bed, traipse around in an empty house and cook meals for one? Wake up, breakfast, get to college, come back home, watch fucking movies all night and eat absolute junk. It hurts to know that you’re out there, albeit living your dream, but you’re doing god knows what. Parties, girls, gigs, more girls. John, sometimes I just can’t take it. You really don’t understand how much it all sucks because you’ve never experienced that.”

John looked at his hands, he felt speechless.
“You think I don’t miss you? That I don’t think about you every single day? You’re insane if you could believe any different. I love you. Maybe you really don’t understand how much it all sucks when I hear that you’re thinking we aren’t both in this together. Of maybe you don’t understand that when you watch fucking movies all night and eat absolute junk that I’m doing to exact same thing whilst the guys are out at parties. As cliché as this all is, you’re what I think about when I wake up and what I think about before I sleep.”

Running her fingers through her hair, Cecilia sighed. Exasperated, tired, hungry – she couldn’t think straight.

“John. Your lifestyle, career and dreams will break us apart.”

“But you know I’d give it all up for you if you asked me to.”

“That’s the problem, I’d never ask.”

--------------------------
Present

“John, live a little. You’re hurting, you miss her… but she’s not coming back, man. I know how you’re fee-” Tim began, as John cut him off immediately with an apathetic and tired tone,

“You really, really, REALLY, don’t know how I feel right now Tim, so just stop talking shit – that goes for you and the rest of the guys. You could never understand unless Ashley was suddenly erased from your life and nothing was in your power anymore. So, until that time comes, which I really hope does not, then please refrain from all of your pointless consoling because it doesn’t do shit.”

Tim sighed, “We just want you to get better, we all mean well John. The fans are sensing some odd shit with you okay? You’re just… ah it’s hard. You put on this pretense on stage and that’s all well and good… but when you meet up with fans you’re like a whole other person. You’re hostile and bitter. The label are getting pissed, you’re losing fans and… you just need to get better.”
“Well I don’t care, Tim. She was everything to me, the words you wield go in one ear and out the other so save your breath.”

Tim began to chuckle, running a hand through his sandy hair, and when questioned with a confused and scornful look by John, he simply replied,

“Nothing, it’s just funny. This is the most I’ve heard you speak in a very long time.”

John licked his lips, walking away with a bitter taste in his mouth. He had been awful to Tim but he wasn’t willing to swallow his pride and apologise,
“After all, I’m hurt, not Tim. He doesn’t know shit…”
“He’s only trying to help, you can’t bring Cecilia back.”
“He has no right to interfere.”
“God damn it, he’s your best friend of course he has the right.”
“Fuck, shut up. You don’t know shit either.”
“But we’re the same person… fuck.”
“Fuckitty fuck fuck. I’m the one who is right so shut up.”
“Fuck no.”
Two voices in his head alternated between speaking and arguing – a simple migraine couldn’t describe how fucked up he felt.

He missed her soft hands, her strawberry scented locks of chocolate hair and the way they felt fanned across his bare chest in the night. The tightening in his chest was enough to know that this was no dream, or nightmare rather, but the harsh reality of the loss of a loved one, his soul mate. To have someone ripped from your hands, pulled away from your tight embrace and somehow try to be erased from your memory completely. With tears in his eyes, he remembered the awful feeling of death, the word ‘death’ alone made him want to gasp for air and bite his bottom lip as he contemplated the value of living. Living for one’s self. When asked why one may want to live, the answer would always be, “I’m doing what I love, with people I love!”

Cracking open the seal of his acquired vodka bottle, he downed the obnoxious tasting liquid and savoured the burning in his throat; it reminded him that he could hurt, he could taste and he could feel, without her.
Selfish and self-absorbed human beings, even whilst they continued life unknowing but John knew; his faith in humanity had drained away like the soul of his loved one and in poured the pessimism.
The distaste for living and the absence of his own self-worth.

"But I can feel."