I Hear Your Heart Call My Name.

I ended up sitting on the back porch with a can of cheap beer in my hand, looking out at the now dark sky. It was the same place that Mike and I had sat together earlier that day. The same place he’d put his arm around me. The place I’d returned to in hopes of getting away from the stupid, noisy party going on inside. The last I’d seen of Mike he was talking to one of the girls who’d been next to/on top of him during filming. She’d put on a dress which covered little more than what we’d already seen of her earlier, while Mike was still shirtless. I didn’t want to think about it. Maybe she’d left by now. Maybe they’d left by now.

I was only on my second beer, not even really feeling the buzz of the alcohol yet, and I considered going inside to find something stronger. It wouldn’t be worth it though; I was terrified I’d see Mike still talking to her, or worse.

“Tony?” For the second time that day Mike pulled me out of my irritable thinking about him. He was standing exactly where he had been when he’d found me that morning, holding a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. He looked so natural, so like he usually did it was disconcerting. I knew I probably looked something like I felt; terrible.

“What’s wrong? You seem really upset. Did you not like the video?” He sat down next to me, the same as he had earlier in the day, except this time he didn’t put his hand on my shoulder and we both had our hands in our laps. “Were you jealous that I got all the bitches?” He asked, clearly joking. He had no fucking idea.

I just shrugged and leaned against him. That wasn’t weird, right? Friends lean against friends. I just wanted to be close to him, to pretend for a minute and get rid of the empty ache in my gut. What I really needed was closure; something to really tell me that he’d never want me to stop me from thinking about him like that. Unfortunately, that would require talking to him about my feelings and I couldn’t put the band at jeopardy like that.

Sometimes I just wanted to leave. The guys would find someone new to replace me and I could settle down, get a normal job and a normal girlfriend and live a normal life. Except that I couldn’t. I knew I wouldn’t be happy if I wasn’t playing music. Everything just felt so hard sometimes, and I’m not even talking about my dick.

“Is it okay if we crash here tonight?” Mike asked, nudging me. “I don’t think either of us is safe to drive tonight and there should be a spare bed or something somewhere.” My heart leapt at the implication of us sharing a bed, though I was pretty positive he didn’t mean it to come across that way. What he said made sense though, since I guessed he was pretty wasted and assumed that I was too.

“Yeah, it’s cool. I don’t think I could handle the drive home right now anyway.” It was true; a late night car ride with a very drunk Mike was the last thing I needed right now. All I really wanted to do was drink enough so I didn’t have to think about all this shit and then crash (preferably not on the floor) and sleep for as long as humanly possible.

I sighed and sat up, taking my head off of Mike’s shoulder and starting to get up. He looked up at me in curiosity and I muttered that I was going to get another drink by way of an explanation. He nodded and started to get up also. I offered him my hand to pull him up, relishing the couple of seconds where our hands were clasped together.

Had to stop thinking like this. Needed alcohol. Needed Mike. I slowly walked inside trying to get a grip on my thoughts and some strong alcohol. Mike walked close enough beside me that I felt the heat of his arm next to mine and it was almost painful how much I wanted to be leaning on him again. Or better, lying next to him, our arms and legs entwined. Most of all, I just needed to stop thinking like this.