Broken Minds

Gabe shut the door behind him and stood in the hallway, taking a deep breath as he leaned against the wall just outside the door. He wiped hastily at the few tears falling down his cheeks. The sight of William gouging his arm and the look on his face was almost too much. The William he had seen, that wasn't the friend he loved. It was someone completely different. With a deep breath, he pushed off the wall and looked down at himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys then headed out towards his car.

He drove around for a little while, trying to decide what to do. He knew William wasn't in the right state of mind when he had thrown Gabe out, but he still figured William needed the time alone to calm down. Gabe needed it just as much. He pulled into a parking lot and looked up at where he was. A hotel.

“Guess I’ll just stay here tonight,” Gabe muttered to himself.

He climbed out of his car after parking it and went in. The woman at the desk looked at him with a smile, welcoming him warmly. He made his way up to the counter and reached into his back pocket pulling out his wallet.

“Just give me a single room.” Gabe handed over his ID and credit card to the woman.

“How many nights Mr. Saporta?” she questioned, looking at the name on his ID.

“Um, start with tonight. If I need more I’ll be back down in the morning.” The woman nodded in understanding.

“Your room is number 541. Take the elevator up to the fifth floor; when you exit, go to your right and it will be the first room on the left.” She handed him the key card and his belongings back.

Graciously accepting them, he made his way towards the elevator and followed the directions. He entered his room and turned on the light by the bathroom so he could see where he was going. The room was spacious. There was a king-sized bed pushed up against the furthest wall. It was more space than he had grown accustomed to.

Gabe made his way over to the window, looking out over part of the city. It had started raining. How ironic. The weather seemed to mirror his mood. Not having anything to change into or any of his things, he didn’t know what to do. He picked up his phone from where he sat it on the nightstand and dialed the first number that came to him --well the first number that came to him after William’s. He wasn’t going to dial his number yet, they both needed more time.

“Hello?” Gabe was too busy staring out the window lost in his word to realize someone had picked up. “Hello? Gabe?”

“Oh. Sorry Victoria.” Gabe managed finally.

“What’s wrong? You sound like you’re about to cry. Gabe doesn’t cry.” She held a lightness to her voice. She knew Gabe well, well enough to know this wasn't a friendly chat.

“I’d rather not get into it right now. It’s something personal. But um, could you bring me a change of clothes or two?”

“Sure.” Gabe was certain she was nodding on the other end of the phone even though he couldn’t see it. “Wait. You’re not at Bill’s place?” She had just realized he couldn’t have been, because all his things were there.

“No I’m at the Carlton.” Gabe turned around and moved over to the bed and sat down rubbing his free hand over his face. “Room 541.”

“All right. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Victoria sounded worried.

“Just don’t go by Bill’s please. Find me some clothes, or buy me some and I’ll pay you back. Promise.” His voice was flat but stern. William needed to be alone. Gabe didn't want to put him in the position of having to fend off Victoria's line of questioning.

“Gabe, I really wish I knew what was going on. This isn’t like you two.”

Gabe ended the conversation, telling her again not to press the issue. He wasn't ready to talk about it, and even if he was he couldn't do that to William.

After hanging up the phone, ee made his way into the brightly lit bathroom.Tthe light was almost too harsh for his tired, sore eyes but he managed. He stripped off his clothes and got into the shower. The hot water pelted him and he stayed standing there letting his skin redden from the amount of heat. He stood there as tears mixed with the water. He was losing William, the one person he couldn’t bare the thought of losing.

The water was washing away the salty tears, no one there to wipe them away. The one person he would let that close wasn’t around, didn’t want him around. He wasn’t going to wipe them away himself either. The tears were a reminder he was alive and loved someone.

After nearly a half hour and no more tears shed, he climbed out of the shower and dried off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way back to the bed and sat down waiting for Victoria to show.

It was fifteen minutes later when there was a knock on the door. Gabe got up and opened the door to see his friend standing there a bag of clothes in her hand. He let her in, taking the bag heading back into the bathroom to dress. As he looked through the brand new clothes, he noticed she was thoughtful enough to even buy a package of boxer briefs and socks for him. He knew there was a reason he kept her around.

Once fully dressed, he made his way back into the room and sat down on the bed opposite Victoria. She looked at Gabe with inquisitive eyes, trying to read him. She noticed the red-rimmed eyes and the sadness that filled them. A look she rarely had ever seen cross his features. She moved and reached her arms out and pulled Gabe into a tight hug.

“Gabe, please tell me what’s bothering you. Why you’re here and not with Bill. What happened?” She whispered into his ear. The moment didn’t require more than hushed voices.

“I want to tell you so badly. I really do. But I’m not sure it’s my place to actually say. It’s not good Victoria. I don’t know what to do.” Gabe’s voice was shaky still. He struggled to keep it together. He rarely let others seem him so weak.

“You’ll figure it out. You’ll get through this. I know you will. You’re Gabe Fucking Saporta.” She said with admiration. “I’m here for you if you need it though. You know that.” She quieted her voice down as she said that, feeling an unsteady breath on her neck where Gabe’s face was.

She felt Gabe nod against her shoulder. He stood up and led her to the door. He just wanted some time alone to think, to sort out his thoughts. She left with a disheartened look on her face and told him to call her if he needed her.

After shutting the door, Gabe turned and leaned against it sliding down until he was sitting on the floor, his back pressed tightly against the surface. He brought his hands up and ran them through his still slightly damp hair, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Why Bilvy? Why are you doing this to me?” he said into the silent room the tears starting to fall again.

***

When William had heard the door shut, he continued to stand there staring through the wall where he knew the door was. He had just kicked out his boyfriend and told him not to come back. Gabe had actually listened. He was gone.

He looked down at the floor at all the broken glass surrounding him. He didn’t remember doing all that. The events were all a blur. Looking at his arm he saw his wrist, his hand covered in blood and more slowly pooling on the surface. The pain, the burn was intense.

“Fuck,” he mumbled as he brought his hands up and ran them through his messy hair. Blood smeared over his face from his hand, and he knew it but couldn’t bring himself to care. Slowly he sank to the floor of the doorway, his mind was numb but his body wasn’t.

Once he was seated fully on the floor, his hands again were in his hair, his face firmly planted in their palms. He closed his eyes, cursing himself for everything wrong with him, everything he had just done. He could feel the tears behind his closed eyelids and willed them not to fall. He wasn’t worth the tears threatening to descend; after all, it was because of him his boyfriend was now gone for who knows how long.

“Fuck!” he cried out slamming his head against the wall. He fisted his hands in his hair and tugged, the pain was nothing to him at the moment.

He sat there in an in-between state of mind. The tears fell, leaving streaks in the blood on his cheek from his hand. Pulling his hands out of his hair finally as the tears slowed for the time being, he looked at his wrist carefully. The cuts were so much deeper than ever before, but at least they had stopped bleeding.

Slowly he got up and stepped through the millions of shards of broken dishes scattered across his kitchen floor. He managed to make it out of the room without getting any glass stuck in the bottom of his feet.

As he walked past his door he locked it knowing no one was going to show up and want back in that night. He continued into the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower, he had to wash away his soul that covered his arms and face.

He stood there underneath the hot spray watching the red circle the drain. His tired mind was fascinated with the sight as it disappeared. The water was a little too hot, his skin was turning red from the warmth. He didn’t care. All he cared about right now was gone. Gone because it’s what he thought he wanted in the heat of the moment. He didn’t.

He hissed at the burn the shampoo caused as it ran down his hand onto his open wrist. He needed to wash away all traces of blood from his body. At least all the traces that he could get rid of. He knew it was in his hair because his hand was covered in it when he ran his hand through it. As he was rinsing out his locks he noticed how many more strands were stuck to his hand, more than usual. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

After he got out and dried off, he took a more careful look at his wrist and saw how red it was. He rummaged through the cabinet before finally settling on a bottle of peroxide and a gauze wrap. Carefully, he removed the cap from the brown bottle and held his wrist over the sink and closed his eyes. Immediately a burn seared through his arm from the contact of the liquid. He let it dissipate slowly on its own. Afterward he wrapped the gauze around his wrist to protect from getting fuzz or anything else from his clothing in it.

He made his way into his bedroom and started looking through his dress for clothes. He settled on flannel pants and a tee. No one was there to question what happened to his wrist anyway so he didn’t see the point in covering it at the time. Once dressed, he made his way back out to the messy kitchen and just stared at it. It was nearing midnight; he had no idea where the time had gone.

He dropped to his knees at the edge of the room and started picking up the bigger pieces of what were formerly his dishes. He got a majority of them picked up and thrown out before he decided to sweep the rest. As he was knelt down still he felt something wet hit his hand and it was then he realized he had been crying. He wiped the tears that dripped off his chin with his free hand before standing and making his way to the trash. He treaded carefully over the small pieces of glass to gather the broom and dustpan. Carefully, he swept his floor, the memory still fuzzy as to how they all managed to be broken.

When William was finished he looked in his cabinet and saw not a single dish left. No glasses, no bowls, no plates. All he could think was how fucked he was if he needed one, not necessarily to eat on though. He knew he shouldn’t think that way, but he couldn’t help himself.

In that moment, he put his shoes on and headed to the party store up the road. It was only 1 AM, so he had time. He bought two bottles of Jack Daniels and headed back to his apartment. The man that was working didn’t question the bandage on his wrist or the visible scars and pretended he didn’t know the local musician. For that William was thankful.

He sat down on his couch in front of blank television he never bothered to turn on. He twisted off the cap of the vile liquid and took a long drink. He shivered and shuttered from the burn as it went down his throat hitting his empty stomach heavily. A couple minutes later he found himself repeating the action. He was hurting so badly right now from his own actions he wasn’t thinking of anything but trying to get his body, his mind, his heart numb.

He had no idea in actuality of what he was doing. His mind was turned off to all rational. All he wanted right now was to take back what he had done and have Gabe there with him again. He looked at his phone and contemplated calling the familiar number. He had the first six digits entered before he caught himself and threw his phone across the room. He couldn’t call Gabe. He couldn’t call anyone. Only Gabe knew his secrets, and if he couldn’t call him for help currently then he couldn’t call anyone without his secret being exposed. That is, saying Gabe hadn’t already spilled the troubles that had been haunting him for a while.

He didn’t think Gabe would tell anyone without a good reason to. To be honest he couldn’t think of a good reason himself that would make Gabe have to tell unless he was lying there in a pool of his own blood on the verge of death. Even then, he wasn’t sure he’d have wanted Gabe to tell his band mates, his friends or his fans. His fans. What would they think if they knew the demons he was fighting? There was no way they’d understand. Would he even still have fans in the end? He didn’t want to think about it so he took another drink.

He continued to drink until his body was flushed and his arms felt numb. The room was currently spinning as the vertigo set in. It was a feeling he hadn’t dealt with in some time and he welcomed it with open arms and a drink for good measure.