Infinite

It was impossible to answer the phone whenever it rang, but even more impossible not to. It was as though everything was enveloped in a gray scale. There was no right or wrong, hard or easy, yes or no. It was all shades of gray that leaned more towards black. Everything had become hard in the last few weeks. It was as though saying goodbye to him also meant saying goodbye to ease and relief.

There was this gnawing in the pit of my stomach every time the phone rang and the rare times someone knocked at the door. I both hoped and feared that it would be him. I told myself that he was too responsible to come home like this, but I also knew that he was too hurt to let it all go.

I was with Heather the day they called me again. Her and I had already talked about the last time he called and the rage he was in and the sound of his voice when he said he loved me and how hard it was for me to stand strong, to tell him to stay where he was, not to come home and change my mind.

And I never lied to myself. I didn't pretend that it was easy to let him go and to push him away but I tried my best to smile like nothing happened and to be strong for Arch, who seemed to miss him just as much as I did.

"Atticus, are you hungry? Aiden isn't going to be home with Kyat until around dinner, so I was going to call for take out," Heather called from her bedroom. She'd run back there to look for something and reemerged with a Chinese takeout menu, waving it in the air like a flag.

I grinned at the familiar menu. It was the same one folded up in one of the drawers in Ronnie's kitchen. We used it frequently at first and soon enough had the number programmed into our phones for ease. "Sure," I answered easily as I leaned back against her couch, "What are you going to order?"

The blonde looked over the menu and pressed her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know," she trailed off distractedly, "What about you?" She tried to hand it over to me.

I grinned wider and shook my head. "The Sweet and Sour Chicken," I told her, pointing at it on the little square of paper, "Number eleven."

She looked at me knowingly. "You and Ronnie frequented this place, huh?"

"Yeah," I agreed, "He always got the number four but then we ended up sharing both anyways." I pressed my lips together and offered her a semblance of a smile.

She dropped the menu to her black coffee table and folded her arms around her bent legs, staring at me. "I don't have to understand, Atticus," she said, her tone changing drastically, "You don't have to justify your reasons or explain yourself to me, but it's obvious that you love him and honestly, I can't see the two of you being without the other. When you met him, you became this whole other person. It was like he brought you out of your shell and you became you without any reservations."

She stopped and watched me, most likely gaging my reaction to her words. When I simply looked at her, she continued, knowing that I wanted her opinion.

"You and Ronnie were amazing," she said, "and you had the kind of permanent spark that I dream about having with Aiden. I love him so much, he's my everything, but it's different with you and Ronnie. You're like children together, giddy and excited and totally, mushy and in love. He's like a little boy on Christmas when you're around and you're the same, Atticus."

"That it though," I said, my eyebrows knitting together as I tried not to remember how that feeling felt, "We're not kids, Heather. We can't go around acting like everything is perfect because we make each other feel invincible. We're not invincible and someone was bound to get hurt that way."

"But now you're both hurt," she replied, "And I know that you're trying really hard not to be, but do you think that you'll ever be able to move on from him completely? I don't care who you distract yourself with in the future, I know that Ronnie will always be there in the back of your mind."

"It's like teenagers and their first love," I answered, "They'll always think about each other, but it was never meant to last. They have to move on because they grow into different people."

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "But he wasn't your first, Atti," she said surprisingly softly, "I think we both know that he was your last. Aiden is my last and I can't even picture the ruins my life would be in without him. I don't know how you're doing it right now."

The thing about Heather was that even though she could see right through me, she still admired what little bit of strength I was showing. I nodded, and then shrugged, and then answered her, "Ronnie can't be my last, H, it's just not the right time for us."

She pursed her lips. "Well, I think he's the right guy," she answered, "but if you want to move on, then I'm here for you. I'll stick by you and be here when you need me, even if I don't understand."

I smiled at her doubtful encouragement. "Thanks," I said playfully sarcastically, "I'm so glad that you approve of my choice."

She rolled her eyes at my mocking. "I just hate to see you hurt, especially knowing that you brought it on yourself."

I shrugged noncommittally. "It's for the best."

She grabbed the menu and we dialed for Chinese food. Heather grinned as she ordered, as though she was doing something taboo, and ordered for both of us. I ran upstairs to the bathroom while she talked politely with the person on the phone.

When I came down about five minutes later, Heather was shouting for me, yelling my name as though our order was really that important. As I wandered down the stairs, telling her to calm down, the look on her face and my cell phone at her ear struck fear into my bones.

"What is it?" I asked slowly, unsure that I really wanted to know the answer that she would give me. The split second between not knowing and knowing was both terrifying and peaceful. It could get worse, much worse, and that was what I was afraid of.

Heather held the phone out to me, her eyes and posture showing nothing but worry. "It's Ronnie," she said, thrusting the little machine out to me, "I mean, Jacky, he's on the phone."

"Jacky?" I answered as I pressed the cell against my ear, "What's wrong, what's happened?"

"Atti, it's Ronnie," he said, repeating what Heather had just told me, "He tripped and fell off one of the risers. He broke a few ribs, his collarbone, and has a pretty bad concussion. They're not releasing him for a for awhile; something about swelling and he's pissed. We're all a little nervous that he's going to kill someone."

I was relieved that it was only injuries. "I'm glad he's alive," I said, remembering back to the same fear I felt when a car collided with our own almost two years ago, "I'm really glad that's alive, but there's nothing I can do, Jack. I can't wave my magic wand and make him okay again."

"Atti, he could've died, they said. The way he landed, it could've been really bad. Now he's stuck here and can't play for at least a week and the only reason he hasn't gone home is because of the tour, so he's not doing very well right now. He really needs you."

"I'm in California, Jacky, at home. It's not like I can just come visit him. He'll be released in a couple of days. He'll get over it."

"He really needs you to come out here," Jacky said, startling me into silence as he spoke through a heavy accent, "I wouldn't ask if it were any other situation, but the longer he lashes out at people, the longer they're making him stay. The doctor said that if they can't trust him to look out for himself then they can't let him go. If not for him, do this for us. For our fans."

"That's not fair, Jacky."

I could almost picture his soft nod. "I know and I'm sorry. He just won't calm down until he sees you."

I sighed loudly and finally sat down onto the couch next to Heather. She'd been watching quietly, nervously, as I spoke with the guitarist and now she leaned in to hear both ends of the conversation.

"I can't," I said to the British musician, "I can't just pick up and take off to Colorado because Ronnie can't control his temper. I have Arch to think about. I can't cart him across three states to some fucking hospital in Denver. He's a little boy, I can't do that to him."

Jacky must've turned from the phone seeing as his voice became muffled and indistinguishable. When the voice returned, it was Derek instead. "Hey, Att, I'm really sorry about this," the guitarist said, sounding honestly apologetic about this entire situation, "It's just that we don't really know how to deal with him without you anymore. And right now, he's not in his right mind. We would never ask you if it were anyone else."

"But it's Ronnie," I finished for him, knowing exactly how the singer could be, and I could only imagine him in this situation, his state of mind. "I have Arch," I said to him, "What am I supposed to do, Dere? I don't even know how long it will take and I can't leave him indefinitely."

Heather caught my attention and I knew immediately what she was offering. I shook my head, not saying anything for fear of the guys hearing, and gave her a hard look as I stuck the phone down into the cushions to muffle it.

"No," I denied right away, "No, Heather, I'm not dropping my kid on you so that I can go off and tame one of Ronnie's temper tantrums. I wouldn't do that to you or Arch."

The blonde woman smiled and shook her head. "It would just be for a few days, Atticus," she clarified, trying to make it seem as though it was no big deal, "It'll be like a sleepover. Plus, Aiden will keep the boys busy. He already wants to have another one. This will be like basic training. You'll be doing me a favor."

"No," I said, "I know what you're doing so stop it. I'm not leaving you and Aiden with a five year while I run off to tend to Ronnie's booboos. He's an adult, he'll get over himself."

"Well, then I'll take Arch for a couple days and you can lollygag around at home and do nothing while Ronnie's in the hospital in Colorado," she said simply, clapping her hands together as she got up from the couch, "I'm just going to call and tell Aiden that we'll be temporarily taking in a boarder."

I glared at her as she grabbed her cell from the table and headed into the kitchen. I begrudgingly yanked my phone up from under the couch cushion. "You still there?" I asked, hoping that he wouldn't be.

"Yeah," Derek answered despite my wishes, "Have you made your final decision?"

I sighed and pushed my hair back from my face. "I'll be there in two days," I answered unhappily, "Don't tell Ronnie. I'm going to kick his ass when I get there and I don't want him expecting it. And I'm paying for the flight with his credit card information."

"Got it," Derek said smiling into his words, "See you in a couple days. I'll text you the address and shit."

"Yeah, see you."

"Oh, and Atticus," he caught my attention before I could hang up, "Thanks. We owe you a lot, and we love you, even if you and Ronnie don't work it out."

The corners of my mouth turned up slightly and I pulled my knee to my chest. "You're welcome," I answered, closing my eyes, "And I love you guys too. No matter what."