I Wanna Get Well

Johnny’s P.O.V.

It had been a day - only a measly twenty-four hours - since Zack had taken Phoenix to the hospital and I nearly everyone had call me. Really this wasn't shocking because I was a mess but it was still strange and kind of annoying. The guys, Val, Rachel, Thor, Papa Gates, McKenna, even my father, had all called me. That last call didn't go on for long, but it never should have happened to begin with. I don’t know who gave him my new number but they are my top annoyance. Anyone with half a brain would know he wouldn't be any help.

What Phoenix didn't realize is that I could relate to her more than she thought. Though under different circumstances, all I had left was my father. My deadbeat, hatefilled father but my father nonetheless. My mother left us when I was only five. She had already been unhappy with my dad, but then I just had to look so much like him. That was how she emphasized it, like it was my fault my genes decided to make me look like her husband. As if it was my fault he was my father. She decided to run off to Vegas with some gambling hot shot named Keith. I had seen her only once, when I was twelve, long enough for her to inform me I was scum like my father and disappear again.

Yeah, as if she was any better.

My father wasn't very happy with me either. He blamed me for his wife leaving him for someone younger and wealthier. His best friends while I was growing up were Jack Daniels and vodka. He tried to be kind to me but he had too much stress. Or at least that was what he told me when he came out of his drunken blackouts with me bloody and broken on the kitchen floor. You can imagine how happy he was with me when I dropped out my junior year in high school to join the band.

So even though I’m now a full grown adult now, and quite more successful than he had promised me I would be when I first left, I’m still to blame for his life being so horrible. He doesn't care that I have paid for his rent countless times over the years when he got laid off or the fact I go to my ends to do things for him on his birthday and holidays. It doesn't even matter I took the initiative to lie to the public about how he was “the best father I could have hoped for”. No, I’m nothing but gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

I think my father would be proud of the picturesque attitude of his that I was pulling. A cigarette in one hand (the pack laying on the bed next to me) and a bottle of whiskey in the other. I hadn't gone to the studio today but none of the guys were giving me shit about it. They would be if they saw me, though I think that they know how I currently was. It was natural for me to do this when having a bad day.

Its how I spent my bad life since I was fifteen.

I was tempted to make matters worse by hitting up my old dealer and buying some of his weed he was always willing to sell me. But even I knew it was much more trouble than it was worth. Besides, I had been promised by nearly everyone I knew that they would whoop my ass if I messed with that stuff again. So I will continue to sit here and drink myself silly, or until I pass out.

Well, I'll continue that right after I take a piss.

I took the final pull of my cigarette before squishing the bud to death in my ashtray. I placed my open bottle on the end table before pushing myself off the bed. I swayed for a minute as I squeezed my eyes shut and attempted to figure out how to walk. I eventually stumbled my way into the bathroom, catching myself on the counter as I tripped over my own feet. I did my business before washing my hands. I cupped my hands under the tap, washing my face a while I was at it.

I looked up into the mirror and blinked. I looked over my shoulder to see an empty doorway before turning back to the mirror. I was definitely tripping out, I thought I had seen someone. I shook my head, turning off the faucet. I patted my face dry with a towel and tossed it into the hamper. I walked to my doorway before stopping, blinking again. I closed my eyes and rest my face in the crook of my elbow that was propped on the door frame.

“I am so fucking drunk, it’s not even funny.”

“Well I could have told you that.”

I opened my eyes, glaring at the figure sitting on my dresser’s top. I shook my head again, walking over to my bed and stretching across the mattress, lighting up another cigarette. “You’re not real. You’re just a hallucination my drunk mind is creating, and I’m also creating your smartass replies.”

“Of course I am! Ghosts aren't real,” he scoffed. He paused, eyes squinting as he thought. As he always did. “Okay, maybe they do, but not me.”

“Then go away. I don’t want you here.”

“I am hurt! I’m dead for three months and you don’t want me back? What kind of welcoming is that?”

“We already established you’re not the real Jimmy.”

“Just because I’m not real doesn't mean you can’t be happy to see me!” I pinched the bridge of my nose between my left index finger and thumb. Yup, there was the headache I always got when trying to reason with Jimmy. No! He’s not the real one! Stop it. “Why don’t you just enjoy the fantasy?”

“Because I did so well to get back to life without you. If I pretend this for even a minute, I’ll have to start all over again!” I looked at the fake Jimmy, eyes full of sorrow. “I don’t think I can do that again.”

“You already are,” he murmured. Of course since he was my hallucination after all, I heard him perfectly. I groaned, burying my face into my pillow.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” I could feel someone plop down on the edge of the bed next to me, placing a hand on my head. I quickly corrected myself in my mind, my subconscious made me think I could feel those things. God I wish I would have just passed out instead of dealing with this stuff. “You’re doing the same thing with this Phoenix girl you fancy.”

“Since when did you start using the word ‘fancy’?” I snorted.

“Since you started watching Doctor Who. Remember? I’m just a hallucination,” Jimmy spoke, mocking me. No, not-Jimmy. He’s not Jimmy! “You’re still freaking out about what you call me, huh?”

“Stop reading my thoughts!” Not-Jimmy opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “I know! You are my thoughts so you instantly know them, but knock it off!”

“Fine, fine,” not-Jimmy spoke, holding his hands up in defense. “Are you going to listen now?” When I didn't reply he began speaking again. “Like I was saying, you’re putting your life on hold yet again because someone’s left it. I get it, you love the girl, but she’s not going away forever. She’ll be back.”

“Like you?” I couldn't help myself but sneer at him as I spoke it. It was like I said it before the thought actually processed.

Not-Jimmy only smiled back at me. “Technically I wouldn't be here if your subconscious didn't decide that this was only way you’d listen to your own thoughts. It's kind of sad out of everyone in the world it was me that had to be here to speak them.”

“Fuck you.”

“No can do Johnny boy, I’m a hallucination, remember? I cannot stick my wee-wee in your booty hole,” not-Jimmy chuckled. I twisted my face up in disgust, causing him to laugh. When he calmed down he had a sudden seriousness that I hadn't seen too much on the real Jimmy unless we were in an interview or something ‘business-y’. “Seriously Johnny, you’re being selfish.”

“How am I being selfish?!” I shot off the bed faster than I thought possible. I learned this was a bad decision when I had to lean forward over my dresser, my head swimming as nausea threatened to make me throw up the liquor I had practically inhaled. “She left without even actually talking about it with me. She didn't even care how I felt on the subject. She just decided to leave me.”

“Can’t you tell she did this for you?” I turned my head to peek at not-Jimmy. He was sitting on the dresser next to me again. He had a faraway look, staring at my ceiling. “She didn't feel like she was good enough for you. She went to go get better for you. She’s willing to put herself out of her comfort zone for you.”

“Why couldn't she try to get better here then? Why’d she have to leave?” I demanded, my anger flaring up again.

“Because you would have just babied her and that’s not what she needs. She needs intense help that you know neither you nor any of the other guys would be willing to give her. Even Matt who’s been distancing himself from everyone who isn't you guys and Val wouldn't want to give her the tough love she needs to get better. And again, this is Matt. He's done is many times when making me quit drugs, so he's willing to do it. He may not show it but we all know he's whipped for Phoenix too. It's like an older brother kind of deal, it's cute if it wasn't us wording it that way.”

I shook my head in denial. I would never admit that made sense. I was still hurt and I didn't feel any comfort in those words. I just wanted comfort. “No. I could have been tough if that’s what she needed.”

“No you couldn't. If she would have cried, you would cave and give her whatever you wanted. You can pretend to be a tough ass to the people out there,” not-Jimmy spoke, waving his hand as if motioning towards the world, “but don’t you sit here and lie to yourself. If there is a crying woman or kid, you do whatever you can to cheer them up. You couldn't have given Phoenix all that she needed.”

“You’re lying.”

Suddenly not-Jimmy was ablaze with anger. This was a side of the real Jimmy that was even more rare than the serious one. I’d only seen him like that in high school when he was prone to daily fights and when we were older and people bullied our fans, family, or friends. This was a Jimmy that always scared me. Even not-Jimmy being this mad made me take a step back, tripping over the clothes littering my floor and falling onto my butt.

“Why can’t you just get it through your thick skull, Johnny?! You try to pretend you’re this superhuman but you’re not. You’re a normal man who has his weaknesses.” By now not-Jimmy was leaning down in my face, his blue orbs filled with rage. “You’re not the one forcing yourself to go to a hospital you hate. You’re not the one who is going to be isolated from the world and taking the risk of losing your mind. You’re a spoiled brat! She’s willing to take herself away from you, even though it probably pains her to no end, because she wants to get better for you! Why can’t you just see it from her point of view?”

I fell silent, letting the words soak into my head. God I didn't want to admit not-Jimmy was right. Well, technically I was right since he was just my mind put into an image. Either way, it sucked to admit he was right. Jimmy was never right and not-Jimmy had his looks so it’s like admitting Jimmy’s right. Oh man, there comes that headache again. I laid back on my floor, covering my eyes with my hands and applying a bit of pressure. I let out a loud shout of frustration, hoping it would somehow help take away the thumping in my skull.

“Johnny?” I snapped up, looking around. Not-Jimmy had disappeared, leaving me alone in my messy room. Well, not completely alone. I could hear footsteps heading up the stairs. Suddenly Brian appeared in the doorway. He had a raised eyebrow, slowly letting his eyes trail the room. “You okay? It sounded like you hurt yourself or something...”

“I’m fine, I just - ” I cut off, my stomach twisting. I bolted for the bathroom and cradled the porcelain throne as my stomach emptied into the bowl. I grimaced as I groaned. I felt a hand rubbing my back and peeked over. I saw not-Jimmy kneeling down, smiling weakly. I blinked a few times, Jimmy gradually changing into Brian.

“I don’t exactly think you’re fine.”

“No, neither do I,” I muttered, resting my cheek on the cool porcelain of the toilet seat. There was no way in hell I was going to tell anyone about my little mind freak. Nonetheless Brian. If I reacted that badly, I didn't want to image how he would take it. I’d probably be thrown into the nutter.

“Maybe you should sleep it off, man.”

And that was the last I heard before I fell sideways into my bathtub, fast asleep before I hit the side. I was kind of happy for it too, there’s no doubt it hurt like hell.