Nobody's Listening

T H I R T Y - O N E

I squinted against the blinding sun that assaulted my eyes through the opened curtains. The first thing I noticed was that I was utterly alone on the couch. James' warm, inviting arms and smooth chest where gone, and I was curled up under a blanket shivering.

I then noticed how silent it was. My ears ached with it. The house must have been completely empty. I stood up and wrapped the blanket around me, trying to contain some heat as I walked to the kitchen and looked for any helpful clues on why I was alone like this.

After a few seconds of searching, I found a note from my mom, saying that she had been called to work today and wouldn’t be home till later. It also mentioned to help James feel welcomed and to take his clothes out of the drier when he woke up. To my dismay and embarrassment, she put a winky face after she said that. So much for not letting my mom know about James and me sleeping on the couch together.

I looked for anything that could tell me of James’ whereabouts but found nothing. I shivered, a deep sense of dread settling in my stomach. What if James had left? I wouldn’t have put it past him. He’d seemed pretty emotionally dead before I lay on the couch next to him.

I shoved my fear away. Of course he hadn’t left me behind without at least telling me. I decided to check the other rooms in the house just in case, and I even opened the back door and yelled his name a few times into the snowy backyard.

James Morgan was definitely gone, and with no objects in his possession to begin with, it was impossible to tell if he had made a run for it.

Shaking my head, I walked back up the stairs to my bedroom and tugged on one of the many hoodies Luke had let me borrowed and never asked for back. It was a NHS hoodie in the school colors, blue and white. I instantly warmed up a bit more and decided to pull my guitar out and practice.

Lately I had been trying to master “Look At Me” by Sum 41. It was one of Luke’s favorite songs, and had quickly become one of my favorites too.

I started to play, relying purely on my mind to remember the chords. After a single run-through of the song, and only a few mistakes, I started up again, this time adding my voice.

“Look at me. Who am I supposed to be,
and what do I believe? Can you tell me?
Since you’ve made up your mind,
who knows what you believe?

“And I just don’t know.
No, I just don’t know
who I’m supposed to be…”

Singing and playing is not the greatest combination for me. Since learning to play the guitar and being able to sing along with it without completely butchering the chords, I always started tearing up. It’s the one reason why I never sang and played for Luke at the same time in person. It was just way too embarrassing.

Tears started to brim in my eyes, without fail.

“Look at me.
Am I the image of your hopes and tragedies?
Just look at me.
Will I ever be more than just a memory?”

Tears started flowing faster down my cheeks, blurring my vision and making small splashes on my shirt and guitar. I felt like the biggest cliché, but I couldn’t stop the waterworks. The words were just too true to everything that was happening lately between James and Luke and I.

“’Cause you just don’t know,” I continued, my voice growing shaky and quieter.

“No, you just don’t know,
all I am is me.
All I am is me.
All I am is me…”

I finished the song with a great sob that jarred loose from my clogged throat. Hugging my guitar close, I continued to cry, my breathing becoming labored and my sobs growing louder with each passing moment.

“Dezza?” a soft voice said from the hallway.

I glanced up and started to cry in relief. James hadn’t run away. I hiccupped and turned my face away. Heat flooded my face. This was so embarrassing.

James dropped the shopping bags full of clothes on the floor by the door and ran forward. “What happened?” he asked with such intensity and sincerity that I started to cry harder. “C’mon, give me the guitar and let’s talk, okay?”

I let him take the guitar away from me and watched as he set it gently back in its case with the care of someone who cared about an object’s owner. I sobbed again.

He frowned and settled down next to me, taking care not to touch me. Like he was afraid of me. Of course, he probably was; he’d dealt with himself breaking down enough, I’m sure. I hoped he didn’t think I was falling in the same deep pit of depression that he had fallen into.

“So, what’s going on? What’s with the tears?”

I took a shuddering breath. “It’s nothing. Just this song I was playing got to me. I’ll be fine.”

The corner of James’ lips curled up a bit. “You play? You never mentioned that.”

I shrugged and started wiping at my face with my hoodie sleeves. “I’m not very good.”

He scoffed and put an arm around my shoulders. “You sure that’s all?”

I considered telling him everything. How I was confused about Luke and James, and how I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I wanted to let James know how I felt when I looked at his lips, or his eyes, or the way he brushes his bangs away from his face whenever he’s nervous or excited or frustrated.

I nodded. “Yup, that’s all,” I forced out.

He smiled and ruffled my hair. “Wanna see the clothes I got when I was out, then?”

I cemented a similar smile on my face and stood. “Sure, as long as you model them for me.”

James winked and got off the bed with me. “Deal.”