Don't Give Up (On Me)

CHAPTER FOUR
To say that I was a relieved it was the weekend was a little bit of an understatement. All day Thursday I was dealing with a depressed boyfriend who failed to even bother to communicate with me, and on Friday, his mood had just gotten worse and he didn’t even speak with me in the morning before I had to go back to work.

I know his chemical imbalance wasn’t his fault, but sometimes he could be a real ass to me and I hated it. Waking up Saturday morning, I watched him sleep, admiring how peaceful he looked with his eyes closed, his chest falling and rising ever so harmoniously. The sun was shining today, a nice change to match what I hoped to be brighter mood. We were going to see my parents for lunch that afternoon, and I didn’t want him to be in a bad mood, because I knew he’d just conceal that and take it out on me later.

I sat up in bed, flicking on the TV across the room with the remote and turning the volume down so I wouldn’t wake him. I left the morning news on and exhaled, my eyes dropping down to my nails. I really needed to redo them, and hopefully that meant he’d let me do his too. My eyes trailed down my fingers, stopping at the ring I wore on my middle finger. It was from John, and it was some cheap ring he found in the market when we went to Ireland last year before Christmas. His family was Irish and this was before he wasn’t speaking to them so we went because he wanted to show me what it was like. Up until the incident with his family, they were extremely important to him, he always said that me and his mom were the most important girls in his life. Now I guess I was standing alone.
The ring was some dark purple stone encased in a gold wire that strapped around my finger three times. It really was the most gorgeous thing I owned; regardless that it was about six bucks in the US dollar. I hardly ever took it off.

My eyes shifted to the body beside me as he rolled over to sleep on his stomach, and it was then that as the sheets slipped down to the small of his back, that I realized he wasn’t wearing any clothes. I mean, I agree that yeah it got a little hot last night and one of our windows was open, but…really, John?

I rolled my eyes as I raised the blanket a little higher, covering his modesty before he woke and cockily accused me of checking him out at his most vulnerable. I usually didn’t try to wake him up because I knew sleep was rare and therefore important to him, but I was kind of bored and I just wanted to talk to him, so I poked him in the shoulder repeatedly until he turned his head to open one eye.

Oh, only one? I’m only worthy of that much of your attention?

“God, chill.” He laughed.

I blushed. Did I just say that aloud?

“You’re cute,” He smirked, “therefore it’s okay when you’re a dork.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, shoving his shoulder. “And you’re naked, you big goober. Watch out or I’ll steal this blanket.”

John blushed as his thin lips cracked a smile. “I don’t care. You’ve seen me naked loads of times, you pervert.”

Why did he always have to make me blush? Ugh I hated him even more right now.

“I will throw you out the window, O’Callaghan,” I warned.

“I’ll throw you out the window, O’Callaghan…eventually.” He smirked, shooting me a wink before dropping his face back into the pillow.

Wait, what?
Whilst I was too flustered by of him calling me by his last name, I didn’t notice his large hands grabbing my hips and pulling me onto his waist as he rolled onto his back, looking up at me with a grin.

“It’s Saturday, y’know what that means?” He teased, holding my hands and entwining our fingers. I raised his hands mid-air so his arms were upright from his elbows. He really was adorable in the mornings.

“John-puts-on-pants-day?” I teased, pouting at him.

He rolled his eyes playfully before shaking his head. “Lay-in-bed-all-day-with-my-babe-day, duh.” He scoffed, only it was a lot more cuter than he probably wanted it to be.

I sent him a look. “We’re having lunch with my parents today,” I reminded, “Plus, tomorrow is lay-in-bed-all-day-with-my-hunk-day.”

He groaned dramatically, although it was more of a moan so I had to cover his mouth in case the neighbors looked through the window and saw something different. Well, it was a compromising position.

“C’mon, we gotta get ready babe,” I groaned (not a moan), “It’s already ten o’clock. We have to leave by twelve.”

“Alright…” He sighed, nodding. He let go of my hands and tapped my hips, indicating for me to get off of him. “I’m gonna take a quick shower, can you make me a coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” I nodded, climbing off of him and heading for the door, noticing his shorts on the ground, I stopped and turned to face him as he climbed of bed, now clutching the sheets to his abdomen.

“Leighton!” He scolded.

“What’s wrong, lover boy? I’ve seen you naked loads of times, remember?” I teased.

“Oh yeah, that’s right.” He smirked, dropping the sheets completely.

I blushed and walked out of the room immediately, my tough guy mask not feeling so tough anymore. I heard him laugh at me, laugh at how quickly I left the room.

“Love you!”

I rolled my eyes as I headed downstairs, completely used to John’s normal antics. God knows what he got up to on tour. For some reason I really wasn’t looking forward to seeing ROADS when it was released in case of any indecencies on the boys’ behalves. I heard the shower from upstairs as I flicked on the coffee machine, sitting myself up on the bench as I waited for the coffee to brew. We were going to my parents’ house for lunch, as we hadn’t seen them for about six months. I only saw them once in the four months that John had been on tour, but it wasn’t really the same going without him. I shoved two mugs underneath machine and waited for them to fill.

So far he was in a good mood this morning, which was a good start. When the mugs were filled, I picked mine up and took a long sip, groaning in appreciation for the beverage that was probably saving my ass and had been for the past eight months. Before we got this coffee machine, me and John used to try and go out for coffee every morning. He’d drive me to work early so we could go to Starbucks for breakfast, unless he was due into the studio abnormally early. But eventually things got busier, and we didn’t have time. We decided to go halves on one of the best coffee machines on the shelf and trust me, it wasn’t exactly the cheapest of the lot.

It wasn’t until a good ten minutes later, and I heard him yell that I realized he was out of the shower. My head shot up as I heard a bang, a repeated one that pushed me off of the bench and up the stairs, my heart beating faster with every step I skipped to get to our room.

I pushed the door open to find him on the ground, his back against the bed and his head in his hands. He only wore jeans, his hair still damp from the shower he’d just taken. I looked across from him to see a hole in the wall. I couldn’t stop the sigh falling from my lips.

“John…” I sighed, walking over to him to kneel in front of him. It wasn’t until then that I saw his fist, shaking and twitching and covered in blood from where he’d hurt it from the wall. I took his face between my hands, making him look up at me. I brushed the tears from his cheeks and sighed. “Babe…”

“I can’t go-I’m not leaving the house today, babe I can’t-“ He was talking in a rushed voice, and it dawned on me that by the way his chest was rising, he was having an anxiety attack.

I rose on my knees, making him look straight at me. “John? Babe, look at me-take a deep breath-“

“I can’t go out, Lei don’t make me leave, please-“ He whimpered, tears filling his eyes and panicked thoughts clouding his mind. “Leighton, please.”

I shook my head. “I’m not making you do anything, John. We don’t have to go,” I said firmly, even though I was a little disappointed that we weren’t going to see my parents. I hadn’t seen them in ages. “If you can’t do it, that’s fine, we won’t go.” I assured, speaking slowly, hoping to move his breathing in time with mine.

“I’m s-sorry,” He stuttered, choking on his tears. “I’ll-I’ll fix that, I promise.”

“Doesn’t matter right now,” I sighed, knowing it wouldn’t be easy to fix that and we’d have to get a specialist in. “Let me fix your hand, and then we’ll lay down, okay?”

He nodded quietly as we stood, letting me pull him downstairs. He sat on the kitchen bench where I had previously sat, using his good hand to lift his mug to his chapped lips as I rooted underneath the kitchen bench under the sink in search of the first aid kit. “S’on top of the fridge.” He mumbled gently, almost cautiously.

I stood, shutting the doors and reached up to grab the plastic box I was looking for. I placed it on the bench beside him and opened it, shuffling through it until I found the anti-septic wipes. I wasn’t going to ask him about it right now, because I knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it right now. He held his shaking fist out and I uncurled his fingers, something he winced at. I began wiping his knuckles, clearing the blood. “You’re gonna have bruises, bub.” I mused.

He nodded, acknowledging that. “I know.”

Once I’ cleaned his cuts, I grabbed four plasters and wrapped them around the knuckles he’d damaged. He winced, too many times for me to shrug this off as another ‘side effect’. I’d talk it over with Dr. Adams on Monday morning.

“The appointment’s at seven thirty, okay?” I mumbled, looking up at him.

He nodded. “You don’t have to come-“

“I want to,” I interrupted, not letting him take no for an answer. “I…I want to.”

“Yeah,” He nodded, his eyes widening slightly at my response. “Yeah okay.”

“C’mon, you wanna lay down?” I asked softly, lowering the mug from his other hand in fear that hand would break out with muscle spasms and tremors.

“I-I’m sorry,” He sighed, gripping my hand tightly, wrapping his legs around my body. He moved his hand to my neck, so our foreheads were touching. “You don’t have to miss out on seeing your parents because of me-you can still go, I’ll be okay on my own-“

“Even if you were okay,” I began, a small smile on my lips. “I wouldn’t leave you, babe. I would still be thinking about you the whole time. Especially now, or after this.”

“But you didn’t have that problem, like, months ago.” He stated, looking me in the eyes.

“Well months ago you didn’t have…” I stopped myself, looking down at my hands that rested in his lap. I didn’t for that to come out so-

“Depression?” He prompted confidently. “You can say it, babe.”

“I don’t know how…sensitive you are towards it,” I admitted, “we have to talk about what just happened John.” I sighed.

“I know,” He nodded, “and we will, but…babe I can’t right now, my hand is fucking-“

“I know,” I interrupted, pulling him down from the bench and into the living room. “I gotta go call my parents and let them know we’re not coming. You find a movie, okay?”

He nodded, kissing me on the cheek before I headed upstairs to retrieve my phone and make the call. He was strangely calm, considering he’d just put a hole through the wall. But then again the depression didn’t have a schedule. I got side tracked from my phone by the scene in the bathroom. The shirt he intended on wearing was on the bathroom floor, soaking wet. He must have grabbed it without looking because if he saw the shirt he grabbed, he wouldn’t have even touched it.
It was a Third Eye Blind concert t-shirt from the show he went to with his brothers four years ago. He hated everything to do with his family, it was like PTSD, and any thought about them caused a reaction. A not-so-positive one. It must have cracked him, pushed him over the edge. He couldn’t control his emotions, he had absolutely no control over that, whatsoever. Some days it stopped him from functioning-most days. He wasn’t functioning properly most of the time and relied on other people to get him through each day.

I told him that I would never get tired of helping him through each day.

I picked up the shirt and threw it in the hamper so he wouldn’t have to look at it. I left the bathroom and sat down on my side of the bed, lifting my phone from my bedside table. Mine was entirely different to John’s, minus the matching lamps. On the top, I only had a photo of me and him in Ireland, and then most of the time, my phone, because that was where I charged it every night. Aside from that, I had a few rings and bracelets, but nothing else. In the draw, I had an address book, and a small velvet box that encased a gold anklet John bought me for my birthday last year. I didn’t like wearing it to work in case it fell off and I lost it. I was extremely cautious because it was probably the most expensive thing I owned from him. I had other items, like everyday make up, and headphones and other typical girl stuff.
John’s side, however, was a different story. On the top, he had a photo of us on our first date, and an orange canister filled halfway with white pills. In his draw, was another canister of the same pills, an emergency shot, a half empty box of condoms, his song book, a handful of guitar pics among other stuff.
The emergency shot was for if he ever had a seizure. I don’t think I could ever picture John O’Callaghan having a seizure. God knows if it ever happened I’d freak out. I couldn’t handle jabbing him in the thigh with a syringe. It wasn’t something I ever planned doing to my boyfriend.

“You coming?!” He called from downstairs, the emotion gone in his voice. I’d never be able to get used to that.

“Just a sec!” I called back, before picking up my phone and dialing the number of my parents’ landline. I sat quietly as I waited for it to ring, realizing I was still in my pajamas. I looked around the room and spotted his track pants, taking a mental note to take them downstairs so he could change into them.

“Hello?”

The sound of my mothers’ voice shocked me a little, as I hadn’t heard it in so long.

“M-mom, hey,” I greeted with a sigh. I was really looking forward to seeing them with him today.

“Oh Leighton darling!” She beamed, sounding too happy for me to disappoint. I hated that. “I’m just getting everything ready for lunch now, I can’t wait to see you and John, dear.”

I closed my eyes and ran a hand through my hair. “Look mom, about that…” I began hesitantly.

“Oh…” She seemed to catch on pretty quick. “Oh don’t worry darling-“

“It’s just not a good day, y’know?” I explained softly. “He was so fine when we woke up, but things just crashed and he won’t leave the house.”

“You want us to come to you?” She offered, and I could hear the desperation in her voice. She wanted to see us as much as I wanted to see them. I’m sure John wanted to see them as much as I did, but not today. Today just wasn’t a good day.

“You know I do, ma,” I sighed deeply, “but he wouldn’t be sociable and then he’d feel bad about it and…it’s just not a good time.”

“I understand, baby,” she sighed, “well…you just tell John that we give him our best, okay hun?”

“Thanks mom,” I mumbled, forcing myself not to sigh again. “I mean, yesterday he could hardly get out of bed, y’know? He had stomach cramps and he puking and physically he was just in so much pain.”

“That’s no goo at all, dear,” She tutted, “I hope you’re looking after him.”

“Of course ma,” I said softly, my eyes filling with sadness. “You know I am.”

“Alright honey. I’ll let you get back to him. Let me know when’s a better time, okay?”

“Definitely,” I nodded, holding her to that. “I’ll see you later.”

“Goodbye sweetheart, take care.”

“Bye mom.”

“Bye love.”

I hung up and stood, not wanting to dwell on it anymore. What’s done is done, and I shouldn’t spend so much time hung up on these things that I can’t change. Okay, so we weren’t going to see my parents this weekend, and there was nothing I could do about that for now. I now had to accept that and move on.
I took a deep breath before heading downstairs to find John in the exact same place as before. He didn’t look good. He was getting thin, and his eyes were starting to look bigger in his head. I knew that was definitely a bad sign because it most certainly did not fall under one of his symptoms. If anything, he was supposed to be gaining weight, not losing it in the face. His hair had gotten longer also, almost hanging over his eyes at his lack of self-presentation. I hadn’t seen him so well dressed since the show the other night, so that was kind of a surprise. If we didn’t have to leave the house, he didn’t want to leave his sweats.

Aside from today however, as he hadn’t even managed to get out of his jeans from his shower-but hey, at least I got him out of bed.

No matter how much I wished I hadn’t.

I walked over to the dining table and quickly sorted through the laundry basket until I found a pair of his light grey sweats, pulling them out and handing them to him as I approached him. “You’ll be more comfortable in these.”

He looked up at me, thankful. He hadn’t taken them on tour and I knew he missed wearing them day in, day out. I knew a lot of things about him that he thought went unnoticed. He stood from the couch and headed into the other room to change. He could be funny about changing in front of me sometimes, regardless of the fact the other times he would have no problem with being naked around the house.

“I’ll make us something to eat.” I called to him gently, as I walked into the kitchen. I knew I’d have to bring this up to him sometime, and I knew the best time would be before he was put on the spot by Dr. Adams.

He responded with an unenthusiastic mumble, something I was now used to with him. He was beginning to lack in communication with me, and I hated that. I hated how reclusive he was becoming because I hated him not letting me in- making me feel like I couldn’t help him. I know it was a guy thing to be independent and strong, but it was also a girl thing to worry and want to help.
I’d found a box of macaroni and cheese in the cupboard and decided to make that for lunch…or breakfast or whatever meal we were due to eat. John came into the kitchen a few minutes later, looking a whole lot more comfortable than earlier. He didn’t speak as he cross the floorboards, just wrapping his arms around me in silence. I guess communication wasn’t completely lost on him, it was just the fact that he did it silently and didn’t seem to find a problem with that. I however, was driven insane by that. I wanted his raspy voice, I wanted him to speak to me.

“Tell me what’s going on inside your head,” I murmured gently against his bare chest.

He exhaled deeply, running a hand through my hair and pressing his lips to the crown of my head. I knew he didn’t want to talk about it. He probably just wanted to go back to bed and forget I’d even said anything remotely constructive. “Babe-“

“I need you to talk to me, John,” I whimpered, my voice breaking out on me. I was traveling close to the ends of my sanity with him, and I didn’t know how much longer I could be patient with him. “I need to know what’s going on.”

“You know what’s-“

“I know you have a condition-I want to know what you’re feeling,” I interrupted, pulling away to look up at him. “You used to tell me everything.”
He looked down at me, his eyes connecting with mine, sending waves of success and relief through to me. I knew I could get through that wall- “You almost done in here? I’m kinda hungry.”
Right.

Of course he wouldn’t just magically open up to me. So what if he was my boyfriend? What did that matter? He had transformed into a completely different person since the diagnosis, and yeah, sometimes that scared me to the point of tears, but hey, there was nothing I could do about it. Not until he recovered- something he wasn’t exactly willing to do right now.

I pushed him off of me with a nod, before turning back to the microwave, where the food was slowly cooking. “It’ll be done soon.” I mumbled, clearly disappointed with him.

“Ley-“

“Just get out, John.” I snapped, not realizing how pissed off I was with him. Well hey, I’m not apologizing.

“Leighton,” He sighed, “it’s hard for me-“

“To communicate?!” I snapped, turning around to him. “To talk to your girlfriend about what’s going on with you?!”

He frowned, shaking his head. “It’s hard for me to talk about that, when I don’t even know the answer. I have no fucking clue what’s going on with me, Ley.” His voice had softened, but was raspier than usual.

“But…” I didn’t know what to say next. How could I have not thought about that? How could I have so easily dismissed the fact that maybe he was just as clueless as I was about all of this? What, was he supposed to be some kind of professor on depression just because he’d been diagnosed with it? “I just want you to talk to me…” I mumbled quietly as I turned back to the microwave, opening the door when the timer went off, indicating our food was cooked. I separated the pasta into two bowls before adding the cheesy mixture. I straightened up as I felt his rough hands on my hips.

“I love you.” He stated huskily, his voice lingering in my ear.
Sometimes it was easy to underestimate how much those three words could mean when they left his mouth. He said things with such passion and such honesty, I knew when he was lying and when he was telling the truth. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know, but hey want can you do.

“I love you too.”

***

I think the most difficult part about his condition, was seeing him in pain. Seeing him in pain and knowing he was feeling that because of his own mind, that was a difficult thing to process. It was like he was trapped in his head, and no matter how he much he wanted to tell me things, he just couldn’t, because he no longer knew how to identify those things. He was no longer in control of his feelings or the things that circled his mind, and it scared him-I know it did. He wasn’t used to having such a lack of personal control.

I know the condition hindered his ego. I know that it made him feel like weakness, almost incapable. It put a lot of pressure on him, I knew that. But when I couldn’t help him, and when all I could do was watch him and sit back helplessly, it hindered my ego, it made me feel like weakness, like I was incapable of looking after him.

As we sat across from each other at the dining table that night, eating dinner that we’d made together. It was some Mexican rice dish that Kennedy’s mom taught him and Kennedy how to make when they were teenagers and she said the best way to impress a girl was to cook for her. I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty impressive.
But the dish that we were eating isn’t what held my attention. No, his hand that held mine on top of the table, that is what held my attention.

Literally.

I mean…whenever we went out together he was usually in one of his moods, and would barely speak to me, let alone show any form of affection towards me. So the fact that he was holding my hand so blatantly (not even under the table), it kind of surprised me. But what got me as well, was how easy it was for him to ignore it, like he did it all the time.

Because he most certainly, did not do it all the time.

“And so we’re gonna go into the studio sometime next week to start writing for the next album. We might go out to Joshua Tree within the next few weeks as well, sleep out there, live out there, just get the right vibes, y’know?” He spoke, not even looking up at me.

I nodded slightly, unable to stop looking at him. “Yeah that sounds good, baby. You just gonna camp out there?”

He nodded, eating another spoonful and finally looking up at me. He’d only put a small amount on his plate. The bowl containing the rest of what we’d made was on the table too, but I doubt he was going to go for seconds even after the lack of food he’d placed on his plate. Part of the stupid diet thing I guess. “Yeah, just the five of us, we’ll take a few guitars out and just write.”

“Sounds…serene,” I commented, “peaceful.”

“I think that’s the best way to wrap up all the emotions of the tour, y’know? Like, to just write it all out-that way we can get on with the production of the next album.” He explained, as he put his fork down for the last time.

The next album…the process starts again.

I looked up at him, instead of responding. Yeah, I was nervous. The last time he went into the studio to do the next album, he ended up with depression. It wasn’t something that I wanted to go through again, and I doubt he did too.

When he picked up on my lack of support, his head shot up in confusion. “Leighton?”

“I just…are you sure you should be going back to the studio so soon?” I asked wearily. “You just did a huge tour, and you’ve been working so hard, you deserve a break-“

“Babe music is my life, it’s my career, I’m not going to…I’m not going to put the band on a break.” He scoffed, like it was some absurd question.

I sighed, frustrated that he wasn’t getting it. “I’m not saying put the band on a break, John. I’m saying give yourself a break, a month, at the least. Just to get back on your feet and to gain control of the condition and the side effects- make those lifestyle changes that will help you fight this depression.”

He threw me a look. “I’ll be fighting this for years and you know it. I’m not making the guys wait around so that I can…sort out my emotions.”

“That’s not what I’m saying either,” I said, glaring at him. He could be so difficult sometimes, shutting me out when he thought I was trying to interfere. “You’ve been gone for four months, you’ve been home for five minutes and you already want to go back to the studio? I understand your passion John, I admire it, but you can’t possibly think that this will help. You’re mentally exhausted-“

“I am not-“

“You put a hole through our bedroom wall!” I shouted, cutting him off. His grip on my hand tightened, his nails digging into my knuckles. “You won’t leave the house! You’re mentally exhausted and you’re making yourself sick! You need to see somebody, you need to change your medication, you need to stop under feeding yourself and you need to start taking responsibility for your mental health!”

His face turned red with anger as his eyes narrowed. “No! You don’t get to tell me what’s wrong with me! You don’t get to be the person that makes me feel worthless! You don’t get to be that person!”

“I’m being the person that cares for you,” I tried softly, trying not to scream back at him. It was kind of frightening how sudden things could change between us, even though I knew it was because of the condition. “I’m being the person that loves you, no matter what’s ‘wrong’ with you. John, I’m telling you this because I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to self-destruct-I want you to get help so we can make it through this together.”

His grip tightened. “Depression isn’t a two person road.” He shot back coldly, his eyes turning to ice.
That physically hurt.

“You don’t have to do this alone.” I said firmly, trying to pull my hand away from is. “John you’re hurting me-“

“You’re hurting me!” He exclaimed, “I’m trying to distract myself with the one thing that makes me happy! But you’re trying to pull that all away from me!”

“John, my hand,” I mumbled, biting down on my lip to stop the tears. The one thing that made him happy? There was only one thing that made him happy? “Stop-“

“I’ll stop, when you stop.” He said coldly, leaning down to my level. “Stop trying to fill in for my family. Maybe there’s a reason I don’t want to see somebody, maybe I’m trying my hardest already- maybe music is the only medication that seems to be helping me.” He spat, before throwing my hand down roughly and leaving the table. The sound of his chair scraping the ground was the only thing that could be heard before his heavy footsteps disappeared upstairs.

But then the days like this put my hope through the shredder.