I'm Anything You Want Me To Be.

"That's cute, John, why do you have a picture of Jay in your bunk?" I hear Halvo's voice from outside.

This wakes me up. I'm just glad my headache's not at the throbbing level anymore.

I hear John's. I can tell he's probably two feet away, maybe at the entrance, coming forth to Halvo's expression. "Jay? As in my dad John O'Callaghan the fourth--"

"No, Jay as in.. Iann.."

"Let me see that,"

I hear their voices trail off.

What's going on outside? Should I check?

Before I can stop myself, I roll off my bunk.

Shit.

Now I have to act inconspicuously. What am I doing, interrupting whatever they're doing like this?

John and Halvo are now staring at me.

I see a photograph in Halvo's hand, and John glances at it before he returns his attention to me. "Are you okay?"

I gulp.

John offers his hand, and I take it, then he helps me up. "You're not used to sleeping in bunks yet, are you?" He laughs.

"Not yet.. Maybe I'll never get used to it," I reply with my voice shaking, after I thank him for helping me up.

"You'll get the hang of it soon enough. You stay here for another couple of weeks or something." John acknowledges.

I shyly smile. But I detest what he just said. Another couple of weeks. Two more fucking weeks, "or something," I don't know how much more of this shit I can handle.

Halvo has been busy staring at the picture instead of joining the conversation. Then his straight face breaks because of confusion. "Wait, this isn't Jay--"

"Don't you ever read," John rolls his eyes and takes the picture. He flips it over and shows some handwriting on the back. "John the fifth. October, nineteen-ninety-one." He reads out. "We went to high school together, Halvo, you've seen all these pictures--"

"But I thought it was Jay.." Halvo mumbles.

"Can I see that?" I ask, trying not to make my voice shake again. I can't show them how I feel about this situation.

"Whatever," Halvo hands me the photo and he walks off.

I look down at the picture.

Now, I know why Halvo thought it was Jay. Even though I'm fully aware that this is not Jay, I still have to think twice. Even though I know that this is a picture of John from when he was little, I still have to recall if I've ever taken a picture of Jay like this.

Because the resemblance is amazing in the worst way possible for me.

Maybe add a couple of pounds to the John in this picture, and it could perfectly pass as a picture of Jay.

Now there's no escaping it.

And I know, I have said that I've concluded that John is Jay's father.

But it just weighs in more. It buries itself in my head.

It tells me to stop fooling around, because John is right here, and he's alive. He still exists on this damned planet.

He was in the past, and he is in the present. What's funny is that I don't want him in the future, so I don't plan on telling him.

He doesn't have to fucking know.

He spent three years not thinking about me, because I was just that great casual fuck, that stupid one-night stand.

So wouldn't it make him some hypocrite to just start giving a damn about me just because he'd find out that he knocked me up? It would..

Maybe he'll back off.

I turn my head to John, who is standing right next to me, staring at the photo too.

He could be comparing this image with Jay. He could be figuring it out.

But could's got a catch. Could means possibility, probability.

I have to believe that John wouldn't figure it out, but I know he's a quick-thinker.

It would be so fucking easy to just go out and say "John, you got me pregnant, Jay's your kid." but I don't do it.

I hold it in, and I torture myself.

Nothing good's going to come out of telling John these things. So I don't let it happen.

Instead, I just give John his picture. "You were cute,"

His voice suddenly gets raspy, and he chokes out "But.. Jay.."

He wants to say the words I'm too scared to say. But a knot is forming in his throat and he can't say it himself.

And I'm glad that that knot doesn't go away. Because I don't want to hear it from him. With his throat threatening to rasp everything John is going to say, he keeps quiet. And it's enough of a stall that I'm able to come back to my senses.

"You were an adorable kid." I complement again and I start moving out.

Emotionally and mentally exhausted, I want to leave.

But John doesn't let me when he holds onto my hand again. Only tighter than how he did earlier. "Riannon, wait--"

Riannon.

Hearing John call me this makes me feel all wrong.

Because the only person who's ever constantly called me Riannon is Nick. Dani does, when she's mad. But Nick teases me more often than Dani gathers up the nerve to call me a bitch.

And now hearing John say it.. Just.. "No."

"Iann.."

My emotions get very overwhelming, and I feel myself teetering on the edge of crying and keeping composure.

I'm not Iann to John. I'm not this petty little 21-year-old whose twin is shooting for The Maine. Not to John. I'm not this weird girl who understands Kennedy when he can't. Not to John. And I'm not Iann. Not to John.

Because I am Riannon Jones, that girl at the party. The girl he shared a cab with because he was too drunk to drive home. The lonely girl he called out for smoking and offered a drink to. That girl he got drunk and talked dirty with. That girl he had sex with and left in the morning. That is who I am to John. Not Iann. Riannon Jones.

And, let's face it, he's not just John to me. He's not this 23-year-old who sings in a band from Arizona. Not this attractive man with short hair and shit tattoos. Not this crazed bus-mate that makes sense.

No, he's not John.

He's John Ohh. The guy who shared a cab with me because he was too drunk to drive home. The confident guy who called me out for smoking and offered me a drink. That guy who got me drunk and talked dirty with me. That guy who had sex with me and left me in the morning. That is who John is to me. Not John. John Ohh.

If I don't say anything now, I will have to live with more time with things unsettled.

I do know what I want to say. But I don't know how to say it.

"Don't.." I shake his hand off weakly. "Please just don't talk to me, John."

And now, I start exiting for good.

Now, the desperation to get away from John has taken over me. I don't ever want to be around John. At all. No thank you.

I can live not ever talking to this douche. I can.

But then the promise I just made to Nick comes into mind, and why it was so wrong to have made it.

I promised Kennedy I would stay and go in studio with them.

Kennedy needs me, what, am I just going to let him down because of my personal issues with John? Because I'd rather be with Nick?

It's not that I'd rather be with Nick. I want to be there for Kennedy every waking moment possible, and even when I am asleep. I have to be there for Kennedy. But I can't help letting the thought in, the thought that I would be away from Nick.

He got me on tour because he thought we'd get to bond more. He wasn't wrong to think that, I've already said this. But things aren't turning out the way he hoped they would.

There's distance between us held by the secrets I would never tell him. By the things I fear he would reject me for. I know it's stupid to be thinking about it now, that he'd reject me because of these things.. But we've been best friends a good 3 years without him knowing all that..

I'm just afraid he wouldn't be able to look at me the same way again..

So I have to make a decision. And I hate making quick decisions, but this one has to be made now.

I need Kennedy, he needs me. And I wish I could talk this out but I'm still freaked out over what just happened with me and John..

I made my promise to Kennedy first. I'm keeping that one.

I'm sorry, Nick.