Pink Is the New Black

He’s sleeping. There is no way he’s sleeping. He has to be sleeping. No. No way. If your boyfriend left you, would you be sleeping? Yes. Well I’m a horrid example. Of course I’d be sleeping. None of your boyfriends ever really meant anything other than a label to you. Shut up. This isn’t about me. This is about Brian. Brian. Of course everything always ends up back at him. That’s why your last boyfriend dumped you. Because Brian was around too much for him to keep thinking you were just friends.

“Shut up,” I mutter to myself, sliding it open to the keyboard, typing back my response.

I don’t hate you Syn. I just don’t like you right now. But I’m still your friend. If you need to talk, my door’s unlocked. ~Sparky~

I hit send before I can change my mind, and turn my phone off, putting it on the nightstand, shutting my light off and rolling over, closing my eyes so I can try to get some sleep.

“Sparky, get your ass over here!” a guy with bright blue hair and blue eyes yells from the garage.

The girl with red streaked, black hair turns around, a glare on her face as she flips him off, making him laugh before she turns around again and faces the guy with spiky black hair and chocolate brown eyes.

“Sparky seriously, we need to practice!”

The girl gives the guy a hug before turning around and rushing back to the garage, flipping the boy off again before grabbing a mic off the table and flipping it on, “I’M HERE NOW! ARE YOU HAPPY,” she screams into the mic.

“You’re lucky Don wasn’t here to see you flirting with that guy,” the blue haired boy tells her quietly, shaking his head.

“Shut up Danny, I wasn’t flirting with him, and even if I was, why would Don care? He’s been so wrapped up with his little fan club he wouldn’t even notice.”

Suddenly the dream twists and changes, the girl with the black hair is crying, the red streaks faded to a sickly orange, her green eyes dull and bloodshot. The casket in front of her is closed, but the picture reveals the identity of the body inside.

“Don I’m so sorry,” she whimpers from her place on the floor, her body shaking with sobs as tears streak down her face leaving black trails of mascara.

“Blaise… Blaise, wake up.”

With a jolt, I sit up, my head slamming into something solid, making me groan as I rub it with my hand, “what the fuck,” I mutter, my eyes sticky with tears.

“Blaise, are you alright?”

Without a second thought, I shove the person in front of me before spinning around and turning the light on, revealing Brian lying on the bed, an amused smirk on his face, “startle you?”

“What do you think asshole? You could have knocked,” I mutter, scooting back on the bed to lean against the wall.

Brian raises an eyebrow and sits up, “I did knock, and then I heard you crying, so I just came in,” he states, “you said it was unlocked.”

“Right,” I mumble, remembering the text I had sent him. I groan and rub my eyes, keeping them closed as I lean my head back against the wall, trying to get my mind off the memories that those dreams had brought back so fresh to my mind.

“Are you alright,” he asks again, putting his hand on my knee.

I open my eyes, making sure to glare at his hand on my knee as I answer him, “I’m fine Brian. You look fine too, for someone who’s just been dumped by their girlfriend.”

From the look on his face, I could tell I hit a nerve, and I almost smirked in satisfaction, feeling particularly cranky at being woken up, but that satisfaction quickly faded as I saw him start to get off the bed, “Syn, wait. I’m sorry,” I mutter, using his stage name, as I always had before, when we would hang out.

“You never call me by my stage name any more,” he whispers, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You stopped it first. You quit calling me Sparky after…” I trail off, the tears from the dream coming back, only much less than before, “after Donny passed away,” I finish with a whisper.

“I thought you hated me; thought you blamed me for what happened, which I would have understood, but you just distanced yourself, made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me,” he explains.

“But we were friends again, I thought things were ok, but then you brought Michelle,” I state, spitting out her name with distaste, “just to show me that you had a girlfriend. That I obviously wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps at me, turning to look at me with such anger in his eyes, I couldn't help the trickle of fear that ran down my spine, “you’ve always been too good for me Blaise. You were better off with Donny, but I couldn’t see that, I was selfish and wanted you to myself, even though I had a girl to myself. That’s why she left me Blaise, because she got sick of hearing me mutter your name in my sleep.”

I didn’t even notice he had gotten off the bed until I heard the door slam shut, my mind replaying his words over and over again in my head, she got sick of hearing me mutter your name in my sleep. I felt torn between getting up and going after him, or staying in my bed and letting him cool off for a while. I didn’t have to make the choice for myself however, because Johnny walked into the room soon after Brian had left, and he didn’t look happy, “why the fuck was Brian in here?”

“Michelle left him and he needed to talk,” I tell him tiredly, my mind suddenly catching up with my body’s exhaustion.

“Is he ok,” he asks, sounding torn between his anger and his sympathy for his friend and band mate, “I mean, that’s got to be hard.”

“Oh he’s great you know, his girlfriend left him because he wants a girl he can’t have,” I mutter in response, sliding back down under my covers.

“What?”

I shake my head and flip my light off, rolling over and closing my eyes, praying that my sleep is completely dreamless.