Sweet Misery

John’s POV

“You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream the wa--”

Dear Katy Perry, I have always hated you. But now I hate you even more for ridding me of the sleep that I oh-so desperately need. I wait the ringtone out, deciding that whoever is calling can wait. Turning on my side, I blindly reach for my phone and grasp it, checking the time. The clock on my phone reads 1 PM, and I groan to myself knowing that even though I have slept for over 12 hours, it’s still not enough.

“YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I’M LIVING A--”

You have got to be kidding me.

Rolling my eyes at whoever assigned this torturous song as their contact ringtone, I finally pick up the phone just so this meaningless pop song will stop ruining my ears.

“Hello?” I answer still half asleep.

“John.” A timid voice speaks. A voice that I’ve been trying so hard to forget.

”Abs, come on. Give me my phone back.” She giggles, moving out of my arms grasp as I try to take back what’s mine. “Come onnnnn.” I whine.

“Nope.” She grins, popping the ‘p’.

“What exactly is so important that requires for you to hold my phone hostage?”

“I need to put our song as the ringtone for when I call you!” Abby replies, putting air quotes in the air at ‘our’.

“Do I even want to know what you consider to be ‘our’ song?”

“You’ll find out.”

I’m stunned into silence. Never in a million years did I think I would ever hear Abby’s voice again, let alone talk to me civilly. Yet, here she is, calling me at the most random time, and of all days she calls me today. I used to dream and hope that I could have another chance to speak to her, and maybe even fix whatever had happened between us. But since my stay here in Franklin, surrounded by faces that aren’t so familiar, I’ve been finally doing what I have wanted to do all along: move on. But maybe I don’t have to move on. If Abby is calling me, she could feel just as I do. Maybe, just maybe, she wants to try again. Start over, with a new beginning.

“Hello?” She asks, most likely wondering why I haven't even said a word, and even stopped breathing just so I wouldn’t make a sound. I clear my throat just for good measure, before spitting out a reply.

“Hello, Abby.” Her name tastes so foreign on my tongue. I don’t like this, I don’t like it at all.

“Um,” Pause. “How are you?”

I’m doing fantastic! You’ve been a part of my life for 5 years, then you ripped yourself out of it like a little 5 year old ripping a band aid off a fresh wound. But now you’ve decided to make an appearance and come back, life is wonderful! “Fine.” I answer monotonously.

“That’s good.” Her innocent tone of voice is beginning to piss me off. How dare she?! She practically tore me apart from the inside, slowly but surely. How dare she have the audacity to cheat on me and then expect everything between us not turn to shit!?

“Why did you call?” I sigh from the growing frustration.

“Because I wanted to bake a cake, John.” She deadpans.

“Your sarcasm isn’t fucking needed.” I spit venomously. My anger is growing more and more with every word we exchange.

“Am I not allowed to call to just see how things are? We were friends once, remember?”

“We were, but you ruined it.” At this point, I can’t control the stream of words coming out of my mouth. I’m letting my anger do all the talking. “As far as I know, you CAN’T call to ‘see how things are’ because you know as well as I do how they are. I had to move out of the fucking state, Abby. Because everything in Tempe reminded me of you, and it suffocated me! You’ve ruined my home, the one place that offered me peace and serenity. You took that all away for some sleazebag who just wanted to get in your pants! He doesn’t care about you like I--”

“Like you what, John?” Her voice is muffled and beginning to crack, and I know this is her method to keep from crying. My heart softens a fraction for the girl that once owned it, and I tone my level of anger down just a notch.

“Like I did.”

She takes a sharp breath, and then begins to cry. I don’t wish to comfort her, or wipe the tears that are falling miles away from where I am now. Abby has brought this down on herself. Why is it that I’ve had to face my problems, my demons, yet she got to blissfully soak up in the rays of denial. No. Not anymore. Now, she has to face her fair share of issues.

“I’m sorry.” She croaks out in between sobs. I run my free hand through my hair in frustration and stress.

“Goodbye.” I hang up the phone without any hesitation and throw it against the wall. It doesn’t break, but a sickening crack resonates throughout the room as it hits the beige colored wall and falls down onto the floor. Walking over to it, I attempt to turn it on to call someone, anyone to get my mind off of Abby. My phone’s screen is black, and a spiderweb like crack decorates it. Okay, it is definitely broken. Still, I slide it into the back pocket of my jeans and throw on an old sweater from the floor, taking my wallet and walking out of the room. Making sure I’ve locked the door, I decide to take the stairs down to the hotel lobby, hoping that the light exercise down the 6 flights of stairs can clear my head.

+++

“Hello?” Jared answers.

“She called.” I hear a few mumbled curses, before he tells me to hold on and then proceeds to talk to whoever he’s with. The woman at the front desk wasn’t too keen on letting me use the work phone, and she gave me a look that even my mother would be afraid of when I showed her my battered and broken phone.

“John? You still there?”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I chuckle humorlessly.

“Do you want to hang with Pat and I?”

“That’s the purpose of this call, Jared.”

“Alright. Uhh,” I can hear Pat’s shrill voice through the phone, and another quiet muffled voice that I can't recognize. “we’re at a place called Nina’s Cafe. Do y’know where that is?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there soon. I’m gonna spend some time with my friend Jack. You may know him, as he goes by the name of Daniels also.”

“John..” Jared’s chastising voice begins, but I hang up the phone and saunter over to the bar, ready to drink all my problems away.

Hayley’s POV

“Fuck!” Jared exclaims, before hanging up the phone. He and Pat both look severely distressed, and my heart aches a bit for the boys who have already managed to capture it.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, unsure of whether or not it is my business. They both share a look, communicating in their minds before Pat speaks up. His once hyper mood gone, and now replaced with worry.

“Our friend is going through a tough time right now, and he’s had alcohol problems in the past.” I nod a bit, showing him that he doesn't need to continue talking about the issue. I understand completely.

“He might be joining us soon, too. So I’m sorry if he acts a certain way.” Jared intervenes while furiously tapping away on his phone.

“It’s fine.”

“Wait, I think she knows him.” Pat tells Jared. He isn’t paying attention, he keeps scowling at his phone. “Jare!” Pat nudges him.

“Huh, wh-- Sorry. What’d you say?”

Pat rolls his eyes, repeating himself. “Doesn’t Hayley know Jo--”

“Patricia, are you gossiping about me?!” John’s loud voice booms over every conversation held in the cafe, and everybody stares at him incredulously as he bumps into a few chairs and tables before sitting down on Jared’s lap. Even though there was a vacant chair next to him. My hands begin to get clammy and I start to shift in my seat a bit, thinking that I’m not sitting correctly even though I am. Pat groans and puts his head in his hands.

“John, shut the fuck up and sit in a chair, not my damn lap.” Jared scolds.

“HAYLEY!” I jump at how loud he suddenly is. As if his entrance wasn’t loud and obnoxious enough. “You look absolutely stunning, mi amore.” He takes my hand which was hiding under the table and kisses it sloppily. I pull my hand away as if he’s burned it, and he looks genuinely hurt. But I know better. His eyes are red, there’s a slur in his speech and he has a lazy grin on his face. I’ve dealt with this enough times. John is piss drunk and there is no denying it.

“So you guys do know each other.” Pat finally catches on.

“Yes, I d-do know this b-beautiful woman in front of us. She has been kind enough to gift my life with h-her companionship.”

“Fuck, John. How much did you drink?” Jared asks.

“I didn’t e-even touch anything a-alcoholic. How d-dare you accuse me of such ssssinful things!”

I scoff, knowing too well how much he’s had to drink. “Judging by that slur, I’d say he’s had enough.”

“You’re welcome to share a drink with me anytime, Hayley.” John wiggles his eyebrows at me. I’m appalled by his sudden boldness that the alcohol has brought out of him.

“Not gonna happen, buddy.” Jared throws me a set of keys. “Sorry, Hayley. Do you mind opening our car so we can put him in it? It’s the white vandalized van. You can’t miss it.” I nod silently, picking up my things and hitching my bag up onto my shoulder.

“It’s fine,” an unattractive “oomph” noise comes out of my mouth as Pat crushes me in a boney, tight hug. I let my hands lay limp at my sides, and he offered me another apologetic smile that I try to return. He and Jared support John up and they trail behind me towards the van. I unlock it and open the passenger side door, stepping aside so that they can lay John down on the seats. “I guess I’ll see you guys later.”

“W-WAIT!” John shrieks, and he scrambles out of Jared and Pat’s arms, nearly tripping over himself in the process. He stands in front of me and bends down a bit so we are at eye level. I have no choice but to meet the stare he is bringing upon me, and I’m beginning to feel more uncomfortable than I did before. If that was even possible. “You are s-so fucking beautiful, Hayles. W-Why don’t you see it?” He tenderly brings a hand towards me and rests it upon my cheek. His hazel orbs show sincerity, and for a minute they turn into Chad’s brown eyes. The use of the name ‘Hayles’ is enough to snap me out of the trance his words and eyes have put me into. I take a huge step back, beginning to shake like the temperature has dropped drastically and we’re in the North Pole. Hayles. That god damned nickname, I hate it. I hate it so much.

“Hey, are you okay?” Pat asks, reaching out towards me in a friendly manner. I jump away from the contact, and he puts his hands up in surrender. Oh god, I need to get out of here now. Chad is going to be wondering where I am. Is he home yet? Did he come home early and find out that I left the house?

“I’m sorry.” I mumble, scrambling away from the trio of confused boys and turning my back on them. I do what I do best, and run away.