Infinite

Our plan to sleep in back fired the next morning when the phone kept ringing, demanding that one of us get out of bed and find it. Ronnie groaned loudly when I shoved his shoulder, attempting to make him do it. When he wouldn't, I pushed myself out from between our blankets and moved to the dresser.

"Hello?" I answered groggily, looking down to check the caller ID, "What do you want, Max?"

My younger brother replied from the other end. "Is Frida there? Dad is flipping out. He's on the phone with Caleb's mom right now."

I glanced back at Ronnie's sprawled form and left the room so I wouldn't wake him up. "Yeah, she's here. Call off the search party and come and get her."

Max shouted to our dad that she was here and then answered me, "I can't, I've got plans and then work," he told me, "Can't you bring her here?"

"No," I stated, leaning against the counter in the kitchen, "If Dad wants her home then he can come get her, but I'm going back to bed until someone decides what's going on."

"Atticus, come on!" Max begged, "Be the bigger person this time. You knew he was going to react like this when you and Ronnie came over, yet the two of you act like it was a sneak attack or something."

I scoffed loudly. "Maybe it's because I thought he'd finally realize that I really love Ronnie. Maybe I thought he'd grow up and let me make my own decision without disowning me. Dad likes Ronnie, he always has, he just refused to like him when he's with me!"

"Because you're his daughter!" Max retorted, "He wanted you to settle down with someone steady, you know that."

"We've been over this before," I stated, "I've been with Ronnie for a long time now and I plan on being with him forever. Whether Dad actually accepts it or not, I'm going to marry him someday."

Max sighed on the other end, not because he didn't want me to marry Ronnie, but because I think he was hoping that this feud would end. That our dad would give in after all this time and see that Ronnie actually was capable of making me happy.

He hadn't. Or if he had, he refused to acknowledge it. The whole musical world now knew that Brett Gurewitz disapproved of his daughter's "scandalous' relationship with rock and roll trouble-maker and once prison-inmate, Ronnie Radke.

The truth was, my dad knew Ronnie was nothing like that. He didn't drink, smoke, or do drugs. He ate decent meals, went to bed at decent times, and did whatever it took to make me happy. But my father was so stuck on the idea that I went against what he wanted for me, that he would hate anyone I dated who came from a musical background. The betrayal was made even worse due it being Ronnie, Epitaph's poster boy and one of Brett's long time friends.

"Max, tell him to come get her when he wants her home," I said after a moment of silence, "I'm done playing this game with him."

"I'll tell him, but I don't think he's going to like it very much. He's still pretty pissed that neither of you came over for Thanksgiving dinner."

"Well, that's really not my problem. Max. I didn't feel like subjecting us to another welcoming friendly dinner," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "I'll talk to you later. I'm going back to bed."

Max said goodbye and hung up. I turned the volume down on my cell phone and left it in the kitchen when I padded back across the hallway to our room. I closed the door behind me and stood on Ronnie's side of the bed, running my hands over his back.

"What're you doing?" he questioned with a scratchy voice full of sleep.

"Nothing," I murmured as I climbed over him and back into bed. "Was just talking to my brother."

Ronnie grumbled and wrapped his arms around my waist, managing to push my shirt up enough that his arms were pressed against the skin of my abdomen. "Go back to sleep," he suggested, rolling over on his back so I could curl into his side.

I sat up on my elbow and looked at him. He could sense me watching him, but he didn't say anything. When I leaned down and kissed him, he kissed me back without ever opening his eyes. His arms wrapped around my waist and he tried to urge me closer to him.

"We can't," I whispered when he rolled over, sliding over me, "What if my sisters wake up and hear us?"

Ronnie looked into my eyes with his dark ones. "We'll be quiet," he promised before he pressed his lips against my neck.

"No." I pushed his shoulders back. "No, Ronnie."

"Okay, okay," he murmured, "No sex, but that doesn't mean I can't at least kiss you." He kissed me slowly, letting his body weight hold me into place.

"Ronnie," I laughed, pushing him away for good, "Knock it off. You're only going to get us both excited."

Ronnie smiled lazily and laid down, holding his arms our for me. I moved back over to him once again, knowing full well that we always seemed to be touching each other. If he was near me, it was habitual to grab his hand or wrap my arms around his waist.

We didn't really go back to sleep. I laid with my head on his shoulder and talked to him about our tickets, his birthday, and what we were doing for Christmas this year. We'd spent Thanksgiving holed up together with Chinese takeout and terrible movies. Our options for Christmas weren't nearly as flexible.

"My dad wants us over," Ronnie told me softly, "We haven't had a real family Christmas in a long time."

"We should go," I murmured, pressing my palm against his chest, "It will be good for both of you to spend some time together. Plus, won't the kids be there?"

"All five of them," he huffed, "They are terrible kids."

I scoffed quietly. "They're great kids," I retorted, "What are you talking about?"

"They tried to kill me by climbing all over me. Nathan almost killed Troy by throwing him on the floor. I'd be surprised if they're all still alive by Christmas."

"Ronald Joseph Radke," I stated, my lips parted, "Knock it off. They're good kids and you know it."

Ronnie rolled his eyes at the use of his full name. "They're terrors."

"You love them," I told him, knowing it was true.

He grumbled to himself because he couldn't deny it. "So we're going to my dad's for Christmas? What about your dad?" His fingers pressed against my spine.

I shrugged the best I could while laying down. "It's not big deal. We can drop off their presents before we go."

"You won't be upset about not being with them for Christmas?" he questioned, his eyes meeting mine.

"It's just a day," I reminded him, smiling at his ruffled appearance, "I see them everyday. Two of them are in our living room right now. You don't get to see your family very often."

He agreed and decided that he'd call his dad later to see if they had any plans made for Christmas yet. More important and closer to us was Ronnie's twenty-ninth birthday. He wasn't necessarily looking forward to being one year from thirty, but I was excited enough for the both of us. We hadn't done anything for his birthday the year before so I wanted to make up for it this time.

"What do you want to do for your birthday?" I questioned, rolling over so I could lean on my elbow to look at him. "And don't say 'nothing'."

"Atti..." he whined, "I really don't want to do anything."

"Too bad," I hummed, ignoring his protests, "I want a party so you let me know who I need to invite and they'll be there."

"We can't have a party," he told me, trying to hide his smile, "You know how much the neighbors would complain if we had anyone over here?"

I rolled my eyes at his attempt to get out of it and told him that I already had a better place in mind. One that was big enough for all our friends.

"Where?" he quipped, sitting up against the headboard of our bed.

"I still have my house," I reminded him, "We never did rent it out like we said we were going to."

"You're just so attached to the place," Ronnie muttered, "And you've got all your shit there. I didn't want to bring it up again and plus, we'd be shitty landlords anyways."

I chuckled softly and agreed. I had no business skills and Ronnie's were very specific. I wasn't sure who we'd get renting my place once they found out who owned it. "We could move there," I said, the thought popping into my head, "Once we get married."

"We talked about this," he replied, reminding me of the conversation we'd had about kids and our future. "I voted no."

"I know," I murmured, sitting up and crossing my legs so that I could face him, "But we never really settled anything. You just love Los Angeles so much that you wouldn't even dream of going anywhere else."

He nodded, agreeing, and then stopped abruptly. "What about Vegas?" he questioned, "I could live in Vegas again."

"What?"

Ronnie frowned. "What?" he asked, "I grew up there. It's not terrible."

I pushed my unruly hair out of my face. "It has the worst school system in the country."

"I survived," he defended, sticking up for a place that he hated growing up in.

"You dropped out twice," I deadpanned, giving him a look that he ignored.

"It was fucking terrible, but I made it out and look where I am now." He held his hands out to his side, referring to this apartment and our life.

"And look where you were," I retorted, "Some of that was caused by Vegas. You know that there was easy access to everything you wanted and you didn't even care if it was bad for you."

"I was a stupid kid in a city legendary for sin, Atti. I basically raised myself. When we have kids, we'd just have to be there to look out for them. They'd be fine," he explained, thinking back to his rough childhood.

I sighed and scooted closer to him. My knee was touching his as I rested my hand on his thigh. "I'm not going to live in Las Vegas, Ronnie," I told him, "I won't do it. I'm sorry. I'm not subjecting our future children to a place as screwed up as Vegas. And plus, you work here. The guys are here. There's no way we could pick up and move to Vegas."

"We could figure it out," he commented, reaching forward to wrap his arms around my waist and pull me onto his lap. "but we don't have to figure it out now."

I situated us so I was sitting in between his legs instead of on him and leaned my back against his chest. "Tell me about when you were little," I suggested, resting the back of my head on his shoulder.

"Why would you want to hear about that again?" he questioned, barely keeping the frown off of his lips.

"It's about you," I murmured, "Anything that has to do with you is interesting to me." I laced my fingers between Ronnie's as he wrapped his arms around my waist, his palms pressed against my stomach and my palms against the back of his hands.

"I don't really remember much from when I was little," he explained, "My dad was still drinking back then and my mom was gone so Anthony and I were pretty much on our own."

"What about high school?"

"I already told you about school," he groaned, thinking back to the days.

"You did not," I rebutted, "You told me about how you borrowed pants from girls you slept with and how you skateboarded a lot."

He rolled his eyes when I glanced at him. We both knew he'd told me more than that, but I wanted to hear him speak, so he did. "I also told you that I dropped out a couple of times."

I glared at him pointedly causing him to sigh loudly and open his mouth to tell me about his past.

"I got into a lot of bands in high school," he started, "The first one was called '3.0' and I was in the second one when I met Max. It was called 'Lefty'. Robert was in it with me and we were playing some show at school and Max picked up my mic when I dropped it."

"That's how you guys met?" I asked, having never heard this particular story before. Even though there was time between now and then, Max and the rest of the guys were still a sore subject. We never talked about them much, and I reckoned that I knew just slightly more than what the band's CD told the whole world.

He nodded. "Yeah, it was so easy to hang out with Max. We had the same birthday and everything. We were friends for nine years before he threw me under the bus. He was my best friend."

I reached up and gently pulled his mouth down to mine to silence him and to make him remember that it was over now. Seeing Ronnie torn up about his past was something I wasn't used to. He'd been bitter, angry, and unforgiving before, but most times he kept sadness and disappointment to himself, even with me. Those emotions were ones he couldn't share easily. It was just so much easier for him to be angry.

"You've known Mitch since high school, too, haven't you?" I asked, referring to the drummer/roadie who spend our entire Warped Tour summer with us.

Ronnie smiled and nodded. "Yeah, we lived together for a little while, too. His mom was great to me in high school."

"Where is he living now, again?"

"He's got a place over in San Diego with his girl friend, Sonya. They're almost as sickening as us." He laughed as I elbowed him in the ribs.

We didn't chat much more about his childhood and teenage years, instead he shot questions at me, asking about my father and how he was before Ronnie entered the picture. The singer knew him since his days in Escape the Fate, but he never saw the father side of him and when he finally did, it was the harsh side my father projected. Our lives were completely different growing up, but each one was a by-product of losing a mother. It was a systematic equation that depended on the person themself, along with outlying factors such as how different our dads were.

Atticus - mother + father = a fun childhood, a slew of steady jobs, and a high school diploma framed and hung on the wall of my dad's office.

Ronnie - mother + father = a drug addiction, a stint in prison, and an outlook on life that could be summed up in one simple word; Karma.

In other words, Ronnie believed that whatever happened to him, he deserved it for what he'd done to other people in his life. He'd sat in prison and thought about what'd he'd done wrong in his life, what others had done wrong to him, and what he could do to make it better, different, now that he had a second chance.

In spite of the terrible things that had happened to him and the terrible things he'd done to himself, Ronnie was still grateful. He still woke up in the morning and was thankful just to wake up. I knew that without the fame, the fans, and even me, he'd still be that same way. Thankful just to be alive.

His mistakes had made him an understanding person. He knew now what he didn't know then. He lived his life before prison not thinking about the consequences of what he was doing to himself. Destroying himself more and more each day, he continued on until finally the world collapsed around him and he was alone to face his issues, both his addictions to drugs and to anger.

Because of him, I'd learned to be a better person too. I learned that the world could take everything from you, lead you down a path that it knows you're not strong enough to turn away from, and then do nothing as your mistakes catch up to you, but you can't give in because then the world would win.

You have to go on and wake up everyday until it's over, and you're changed, and your blissful obliviousness is gone. No, you have to see the world as it is, harsh and uncaring, but you have to find the strength to go on and you have to be grateful for second chance, however hard it may be to live in a world that is completely exposed to you now.

Ronnie had exposed a lot to me since the time we'd met. I'd never thought about prison the way Ronnie explained it. He once said that he didn't deserve to be there for the crime he was charged with, but he deserved to be there because of what he did to other people. For me, I was just grateful that Ronnie's Karma was prison instead of death by overdose. If he would've died, he might've even looked back on it and been okay with it, because it would've been his "karma".

Prison had changed Ronnie's path so I guess, in some strange way, I was grateful for him going to prison too, because in the end, it changed him, his life, and mine for the better. It pulled him off of the streets, wiped the drugs from his system, and gave him another chance at the life he was born for.

He wasn't in danger of killing himself, being killed, or killing anyone else. He had control now. He had a life that he was finally proud to be living. And I had him.