If Love Is The Answer, Could You Repeat The Question?

So it’s like this: It’s been three days since the break up that wasn’t actually a break up and neither of you had spoken a word to each other.

Actually that was a lie. You still had to talk to him every morning to find out what he wanted you to do and for various other things throughout the day. You just hadn’t spoken a word about the incident. The first day had been awkward for everyone because they all knew and they didn’t know you knew and it was clear he still didn’t know. He was snappy and rude to you all day when answering the few questions you brought to him that were necessary. You fought back tears, earning sympathetic looks from Alex and Vinny. It was clear they knew the most. You guess that he had finally opened up to at least Vinny and let him onto the not so-secret secret. Their looks did nothing to help you though. It felt like he had ripped your heart out, stomped on it, threw it around a few times, ran over it with a bus and then handed it back to you.

The second day he was less snappy and you had plastered on a fake smile just so everyone would stop looking at you like you were a kicked puppy. It might have been how you were feeling, but you didn’t want them all wasting time worrying about you. You didn’t want sympathy and it was easier to deal with silently than sharing it with all of them. It was your problem, not theirs and you also didn’t want to rain on their parade because things had been pretty gloomy.

The third day everything was a significantly less awkward, at least for everyone but you. You were still trying to flush him from your system, like a bad stomach bug and it was that much harder to do when you lived on a tiny bus with him and he was also still in control of most of the things you did. Alex was still keeping a close eye on you, like a protective older brother which made it a bit better. You also didn’t burst into tears every time you thought about it like you had for the first two days. So things were better or worse depending on what angle you look at it from. You were trying to look at it from a positive perspective but it was almost impossible when there was nothing positive about it.

It was the morning of the fourth day, not that you were keeping count of how many days he didn’t talk to you outside from your jobs, and you were laying on your stomach in your bunk, trying to fall back asleep. It was Saturday and you had both today and tomorrow off before the next show. It was also 7:30 in the mother fucking morning. You had no idea what was causing you to wake up so early lately but it was getting ridiculous considering you were going to bed past three in the morning every day. All the lack of sleep was getting to you but no matter what you did, you were always awake before nine.

Instead of getting up to make coffee you decide that laying there with your curtain open a quarter of the way so you could see when someone woke up. Even from where you laid in your bunk and he was still asleep you could feel the icy coldness he radiated. He shouldn’t even be that mad, because yeah, you broke up with him but it wasn’t even a relationship and he didn’t have feelings for you. The only reason he had to be mad was because you cut off him off from sex and to be as mad as he had been the past few days over not getting laid was kinda pathetic. And plus, you only had sex once so really, he’s the one overreacting this time.

Still, no matter how many times you told yourself you didn’t care, it still ached that you were once again the reason of those feelings. All you wanted to do was make him happy and you couldn’t even do that. The thing that crushed you the most was the mere thought that eventually he was going to find someone else to make him happy; someone prettier, someone skinner, someone smarter, someone funnier, someone better; someone who wasn’t you.

You buried your face in your pillow as tears made their way down your face for the nth time. You didn’t want to cry over this anymore but you couldn’t help it. You just kept tearing the wound open again every time you thought about it. You turn your head back to the side and sniffle loudly as your eyes meet hard brown ones.

A wave of panic and an eruption of butterflies rush through you. You manage to keep a perfectly straight face, not bothering to hide the tears even though you didn’t ever want him to see you crying over him. His eyes are clouded and you can’t read them, and you swore you saw almost a hint of sympathy and guilt in them before he tore his gaze away from you and got out of his bunk, but you probably imagined it.

Now that he’s awake you have absolutely no desire to get out of bed. You listen as he shuffles around the front lounge, making coffee and probably cleaning up the mess from last night that you didn’t bother touching. Instead you spent most of your time in the back lounge playing video games alone, trying to figure out why Alex was so addicted to them.

The smell of coffee filled the bus instantly and it was enough to pull you from your bunk against your better judgement and into the small area that passed for a kitchen where the coffee pot sat on the counter. Thankfully he had gone to the bathroom while you pulled out two cups and filled them before you realized what you were doing. You shrug, not wanting to waste it and finish making it the way you know he likes it out of pure habit; a habit that you needed to break after today.

You were just leaving the lounge as he came out of the bathroom. You didn’t bother to look at him as you brushed past him and went into the back lounge. You couldn’t help but to look over your shoulder though, curious to see how he would react to the coffee you accidently made him. It surprised you when he didn’t even think twice about it before grabbing it off the counter and taking a sip. It looks like you both have habits to break.

You were planning on spending the entire day and night tucked away by yourself in the back lounge, playing nerdy video games, watching movies and occasionally letting a few more tears slip out but apparently that’s not what life had in store for you.

It was around seven when Alex dragged you from the back lounge, forcing you to communicate and eat.

“What are we going to do tonight guys?” He asks loudly while you stuffed your face with take out.

“Let’s go to a club or strip bar or something.” Jack answers, equally as loud. “I’m getting bored of this damn bus.”

“I’m good with that.” Vinny jumps in and everyone nods in agreement, even him.

Alex turns his look to you, “What about you?”

“Need I remind you that I’m still only 18?” You say and then remember that your birthday is next week. Maybe if you’re quiet about it, everyone will forget and you can turn 19 silently and painlessly.

“Fuck. You look so much older than you are.”

“What are we going to do then?” Rian asks.

“Don’t let me stop you from going.” You say quickly. It’s bad enough you’ve created enough drama on the bus, you’d hate to stop them from going out and having fun. “I don’t mind staying here alone while you guys go.”

“But you’ve spent so much time alone lately hiding in the back lounge.” Jack says, actually dropping into a serious-ish tone.

“I can handle one more night of doing nothing by myself. It’s totally fine, you guys go have fun.” You insist. Maybe you can actually catch up on some sleep while they’re gone. They all look unsure about leaving you alone, like you’re a ticking time-bomb about to blow any minute. “If you don’t go I will push you off the bus and lock you out myself.”

They all chuckle and start talking about which places to go and if they should just do a pub crawl or stay at one bar and you’re really not interested in any of the plans anymore, but Jack was right about you spending too much time alone so you stay planted on the couch. Soon they start bustling around to get ready. You had never seen it take so long for six guys to get ready to go out. Alex spent at least half an hour on his hair, and ten minutes of that half an hour arguing with Jack about hairspray.

You couldn’t help but to notice how nicely he had dressed to go to a club but it was probably so he could find a rebel girl to have another meaningless make out session with. The thought of him kissing anyone else but you made you sick to your stomach.

“You alright?” Rian asks, sitting next to you. He was the first one ready because all he had to do was change.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You smile, trying to seem reassuring.

“It sucks that you’re still underage here because watching Jack and Alex trying to dance would probably cheer you up immensely.”

“Hey! My dancing is fucking great.” Alex says, sitting across from you.

“It’s really not.” Rian whispers and Alex flips him off, making you laugh genuinely for the first time in four days.

Soon enough they were all ready and piling off the bus and into the taxi’s waiting with the rest of the crew who were also going with them. The bus was eerily silent but it was also really nice.

You weren’t really sure what to do with yourself but you probably weren’t going to sleep because they were all going to be shit faced when they got back and would need someone to feed them Advil before tucking them into bed.

So instead you opt to take a shower that wasn’t rushed and wasn’t cold from everyone else using it. It was nice to be able to relax and take your time and be able to use the girly shower products you kept well hidden from the boys. After a lengthy shower you get half dressed and straighten your hair slowly. When you were done that you realize you had nothing else to do. The bus was clean, you had watched every movie they had and Alex’s video games had lost their novelty. You pull a blanket off the back of the couch, pretending you couldn’t smell him on it since he was the last one to use it and curl into a ball on the couch. Maybe a short nap would kill some time.

-x-

You wake up to yelling and screaming outside the bus before the door is yanked open and a parade of drunk rock stars pile in. Everything seems to be fine until you see him come in and his nose and lip are bleeding.

“What happened?” You ask, trying to keep a casual tone and the concern in your voice out.

Alex burst into laughter, falling onto the couch, followed by Jack and Zack who were laughing as well. Finally Alex stops laughing long enough to spit out the story. “Fuckin’ Flyzik got into a bar fight.”

You keep your jaw firmly shut even though it wants to fall to the ground and your eyes want to pop out of your skull because how could he be so stupid? Instead you raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Alex laughs again, probably at your lack of outwards concern. “He hit the Patron hard and stumbled into some guy with a bad temper and shit got real.”

“How’s the other guy look?”

“Broken nose, two black eyes, and a split lip, so slightly worse. It was a pretty even fight.” He laughs because he can’t ever stop laughing when he’s this wasted.

“He had more to drink than Jack, Alex and I combined.” Rian adds. He’s not as wasted as him, Jack or Alex.

And just to prove that he had way too much to drink, you hear a gaging sound and look over to see him throwing up in the sink.

“Really Flyzik, the sink?” Alex says but still hysterically laughing. He doesn’t respond but flips Alex off before stumbling past you all into the bathroom. You can hear more gaging and you’re starting to feel bad for him even though you shouldn’t.

“Well someone better make sure he doesn’t throw up his liver or something.” Jack says.

You know you shouldn’t but there’s no way anyone else can. Zack and Vinny had already passed out and Jack looked like he was well on his way to dropping off too. Alex wasn’t in any state to help anyone or himself and Rian was looking at you carefully. “I will,” You sigh, “But first I’ll deal with you three drunkards first.”

You get up and grab the bottle of Advil and fill up a big glass of water. You hand two to each of them, making sure they actually swallow it because they’re not very smart when they’re drunk and then shoo them off to their bunks, Rian hanging back behind Jack and Alex who are pushing and bumping into each other.

“Are you sure you can handle helping him?” He asks quietly, and you know he doesn’t just mean that he’s really difficult when he’s drunk.

You nod, “I’ll be fine and I can’t just leave him in there, even if I wanted to.”

Rian nods and pats your head before walking in a wobbly path to his bunk. You take a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the possible drunk rejection you’ll get before knocking lightly on the bathroom door.

“What?”

“Can I come in?” You ask.

There’s a short pause before he answers, “Yeah.”

You open the door slowly and carefully, trying to avoid hitting him with it. You slip in and close the door, turning to face him and almost gasp at the sight in front of you. He’s half lying on the floor next to the toilet, forehead and neck shiny with sweat. His nose and lip are still bleeding and his eyes are watery and blood shot. He looked like a hot, drunk mess. And now you had to clean him up.

“Here, rinse your mouth and then take these, it’ll make you feel better and lessen the hangover you’ll have when you wake up.” You hand him the Advil and glass of water. You were expecting some sort of objection or argument but he complies instantly. You turn to the cupboard under the sink, opening one side and looking for a cloth to clean his face with. Luckily there’s a clean one and you run it under warm water before going back to him.

“Come here,” You say gently and help him sit up properly. You go to wipe the blood from his lip but he abruptly pulls away and turns towards the toilet. You look away because if you see him throwing up you’ll be quick to follow. Having to hear it was bad enough. You stand up and open the widow on the ceiling before dropping back down to his level.

“You good?”

He nods and leans closer to you. You tenderly dab at his lower lip before moving to the blood above his lip and around his nose. You can feel him breathing hard and watching you while you completely focus on washing away all the blood. His nose had finally stopped bleeding and started to bruise slightly. In any other circumstance, you probably would have pressed a light kiss to it, but you resist and wipe the sweat off his forehead.

“Better?” You ask just as softly as before and he nods again. You stare into his eyes, the pupils so dilated there’s almost no color left. He moves closer, leaning in to kiss you and you push him back lightly. “Don’t kiss me you’ve been throwing up. And I’m mad at you.”

He frowns and hangs his head. You sigh because there is nothing easy about this situation at all and you’re trying so hard to lock the part that feels like your responsible for the mess in front of you away. “Can you walk?”

That was a stupid question because of course he can’t walk, he’s so intoxicated he probably can barely remember his own name. He just tried to kiss you for Christ sakes. You stand up and slowly help him to his feet, him putting most of his weight on you. You maneuver the both of you out of the tiny bathroom space which is a lot harder that you were expecting. He turns to head to his bunk but you stop him. “No you’re sleeping on the couch where I can watch you.” You command and led him over to the larger of the two couches. He flops down onto his back and groans loudly.

“Shhhh, you’ll wake up all the other drunkards and taking care of you is hard enough.” You tell him, dropping to your knees next to the couch. “Roll over so you’re on your stomach and take your shirt off.”

“Am I getting another massage?” He asks but listens to you.

“No, I just don’t want you to throw up on your clothes and have to clean that up too. Nor do I want you to fall asleep on your back and choke to death. I may be mad but I still care about your well being.”

And it was true. He may have shattered your heart but you still cared about him, probably more than you care about yourself, or to admit but you do. And that’s why you’re taking care of his drunken ass when you shouldn’t be. You crawl over to the kitchen sink and pull out the empty garbage can with a plastic bag in it. This way if he pukes anymore, it will be easy to dispose of.

“I feel awful.” He moans quietly.

You run your hand through his sweat dampened hair and rest it on his bicep, “Tequila will do that to ya.”

He lifts his head suddenly and you know what’s coming so you slide the garbage can over to him and wait for him to finish.

“Why did you do this to yourself?” You sigh.

“I don’t know.” He almost whimpers. There’s a moment of silence before he turns his head to look at you. “Why are you mad at me?”

“Because you hurt me,” You answer. It’s not like he’ll remember this in the morning.

“I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t understand why you do the things you do.”

“Because I love you.”

Your eyes widen at the statement that just fell from his drunken mouth and the world felt like it had stopped turning. Everything had slowed down to a complete stop, like an cold winter morning after it snowed and everything is so beautifully frozen over in an icy embrace. The words sunk in and melted the glacial hold on you and it’s like you were back on one of the rides at the amusement part, being thrown from side to side, spinning around until you felt like you were going to be sick too. Emotions and thoughts bounced around. You couldn’t think straight and you couldn’t breathe. All of this happening in the span of less than two seconds, leaving you dizzy and light headed.

You didn’t believe him. Guys like him didn’t fall in love with girls like you. It was just a drunken confession that didn’t mean anything because to him, nothing has meaning when you’re inebriated to the point where you’ll probably still be drunk in the morning.

“No you don’t,” You respond.

“Yes I do.” He sounded so sure of himself and you desperately wanted to throw any previous beliefs of love you had away and believe him but you couldn’t.

You didn’t answer him, you had nothing to say. Instead you continue to run your hand through his hair and down his neck in a comforting manner.

“Can we cuddle or something?” He mumbles, looking at you with wide, hopeful eyes but you shake your head.

“I don’t want to be in the way if you’re not done being sick.” He sighs loudly and you kiss his cheek lightly even though you know you shouldn’t. “Go to sleep.”

He closes his eyes and you play with his hair until his breathing evens out. Once you’re sure he’s completely asleep, you tie the bag in the garbage can and quietly leave the bus, looking for a place to put it. You spot a garbage bin across the ally from where you’re parked behind the venue. The early morning sun lighting up the sky tells you it’s past at least five. You dispose of the bag and enter the bus again, going straight to the sink to wash it out of the slowly drying vomit. When the task is done you sit on the couch opposite of him. The nap that you took while they were gone proved to be useful since you were going to be sitting here until he woke up.

-x-

Hours passed and not a single person stirred. Then entire bus was dead to the world except for you. You were still seated across from his sleepy body until he finally groaned and raised his head at around two in the afternoon.

“What happened?” He croaks out while you put two more Advil tablets in his hand and a glass of water. He takes them without question and downs the glass of water and grimaces. You consider getting him some mouth wash but decide he’s perfectly capable of helping himself now.

“What happened?” He repeats, looking at you with confusion.

“What do you remember?” You ask.

“Just drinking at a bar and then throwing up in the sink.”

“Oh, well you drank more than Rian, Alex and Jack put together, got into a bar fight and then came back and almost threw up your liver. And because I’m not the type to leave someone helplessly drunk on a bathroom floor, I decided to clean up your face of all the blood from the fight and help you onto the couch.”

“You don’t look like you’ve slept.” He points out; eyes glued to the ground once more.

“I haven’t. I stayed up to make sure you didn’t roll over and choke on your own vomit.” You say, amazed that he’s even having a civil conversation with you and his eyes are missing that angry gleam.

“Oh. Well thank you.” He mumbles as you get up off the couch. Now that he’s awake you can finally go catch up on the hours of sleep you missed out on. “Hey?” You turn abruptly at the sound of his voice.

“What?”

“How many stupid things did I say while I was drunk?” He asks.

“Just one,” You answer, the three words still whirling around in your head like a tornado. You spin around and crawl into your bunk, the curtain shielding you from his gaze. You were never going to tell him what he said to you because you were dead sure that would be another thing that would blow up in your face and you’ve taken more than you can handle right now. You lay out on your stomach, face buried in the pillow that still faintly smells like him, forcing yourself to stop thinking about last night and about him long enough for you to drop off and after a good hour it finally works.

So it’s like this: Drunk words are sober thoughts.