Don't Give Up (On Me)

I woke up on the couch Sunday morning. I didn’t have the guts to clear the air with him and in result of that; I slept on the couch while he slept upstairs in our bed, alone. It didn’t seem to bother him too much considering he didn’t come get me or wake me up like he used to get me at work.

“You wanna go out for breakfast?”

I looked up from my position, sleeping on the sofa. I ran a hand through my hair as I moved to sit up, watching him sit beside me and drape his arm around my shoulders. “What?” I asked groggily, slowly getting used to my surroundings.

“Can I take you out for breakfast,” He repeated, his voice so flat it was barely a question anymore. He was still angry about last night, and so was I, quite frankly. The memories of the fight made me look down at my hand, the one he kept so firmly in his own while we fought. My knuckles were graced with bruises and red marks from his atrocious nails.
I almost said yes before I remembered the fight, and how he hurt me.

I shook my head quietly. “I’m just gonna grab something from the kitchen.” I mumbled.

“Why don’t you want to go out with me?”

I raised my hand viciously, showing him the marks he’d left last night. “That’s why.” I snapped, before getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen.

“Leighton!” He sighed, following me into the kitchen. Right now, him being in the same room as me, that was too close for comfort.

“Just leave me alone, John,” I sighed, leaning against the kitchen bench as I turned the coffee machine on. “Go away.”

As soon as those two words left my mouth I instantly regretted them. The look on his face literally made my heart ache. He looked like a kicked puppy, being rejected and thrown out in the cold, not told to come home. What a total contrast to me begging him to take time off last night.

“I-I can’t stop making music because I don’t want to have another episode like I did six months ago.” He murmured quietly as he surrendered, before leaving the room.

There it was.

He never spoke about that episode and out of respect, neither did I. It was always a touchy subject that I never knew how to bring up. Now the fact that he’d done it himself, it reinforced how deep I’d cut last night. Had I finally made an impression on him? What do I do now? Do I go further into the matter or leave it at that? This was all so confusing.

I decided to leave it at that for now, due to the fact that I was unsure as to how I was supposed to react to that. I heard him head upstairs so I took that time to call the one person I always turned to for advice.

His best friend.

I lifted my phone from the bench and pressed the number ‘3’ on the screen. Jared was number three on speed dial because I actually called him a lot. John was obviously number one, and Jac was number two. But right now, I needed my number three.
Thankfully he picked up straight away.

“Hello?”

“Hey Jay, it’s Leighton,” I responded softly, “Sorry if I woke you.”

“No, not at all, just having breakfast with Parker, what’s up?” He asked.

“I uh…I’m kind of…”

“Fighting with John?” He guessed, “After an intense argument last night?”

I frowned, surprised at how well he’d gotten that. “How did you-“

“He called me last night, a little drunk, but he was in a real state, Leighton,” Jared sighed, “saying how he was going to lose you and the band and he didn’t know what to do anymore.”

Guilt shot through my chest, making my heart ache. I didn’t know he’d gotten so upset over it.
“I slept on the couch last night,” I mumbled, my eyebrows furrowing, “We were talking over dinner, and he was telling me about the trip you guys were planning to the Joshua Tree, and how he wants to go straight into the next record- I only suggested that he take a break and he went off at me.” I explained, looking down at my battered hand.

“Oh…”

I winced, knowing that wasn’t a good sign. “Jared…what have I done?” I groaned.

“It’s his safety blanket, Lei,” Jared sighed softly. “You can’t take that from him and expect him to be okay.”

“I’m not…I’m not trying to break the band up or harm you guys-“

“I know that,” Jared assured. “You’re looking out for your boyfriend, you’re trying to do what’s best by him and that makes sense. As his best friend, I think he should take a break too, but you know that’s impossible.”

I sighed, nodding and running my hand through my hair as I grabbed two coffee mugs from the shelf above the machine. “This morning he said he can’t stop making music because he doesn’t want to have another episode.”

“Like the one six months ago?” Jared asked.

“Yeah, like the one six months ago.”

“Well I can understand that, it scared the shit out of all of us.” Jared stated.

“So what do I do, Jared?” I sighed, knowing I shouldn’t be asking him. I should be talking to John about this. “I have no clue where to go next.”

“I can’t help you there, Leighton and you know it.” He admitted, “I wish I could, but I can’t. Most likely, he’s going to want to go ahead with the trip in order to keep himself sane.”

“It’s the only thing that makes him happy.” I murmured, looking back down at my hand.

I heard hesitation over the phone line. “Leighton…”

“He said it himself, Jared. I don’t…I don’t make him happy anymore.”

“Leighton you know that’s not true.” Jared insisted, but I didn’t believe him. He probably knew that I wouldn’t believe him by this point.

“Look I gotta go, someone’s here,” I lied, not wanting to dissect the issue further. “I’ll see you tonight, at Kennedy’s.”

“Alright,” he sighed, “take care, Lei.”

“You too Jay, say hi to your girl for me.”

“Will do, bye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up and placed my phone down, taking a few deep breaths before filling up the two mugs of coffee. That was absolutely no help apart from the fact that Jared was on John’s side. I couldn’t tell him to take a break, not even for a few weeks because it was the only thing keeping him ‘sane’. Pushing my damaged pride to the side, I headed upstairs with our coffee, finding John laying in our bed in total silence.

It was going to be one of those lay-in-bed-all-day kind of days. A day where his vulnerability was at an all time high and he could possibly even shed a few tears over the littlest things.

“Johnny?” I cooed, walking over to his side and placing our coffees on his dresser. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.” He mumbled, looking straight past me and at the wall with a hole he created yesterday. His eyes were filling with tears and it broke my heart because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop them. This wasn’t John O’Callaghan.

I climbed over him and laid behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. Immediately, his hands wrapped over mine, bringing my bruised hand to his face as he began to press small kisses of affection to my knuckles. “You’re okay, baby.” I said gently.

“Yeah,” he whimpered, burying his face in the pillow.

And just like that, I knew he’d already begun his downward spiral. He’d had two of those already in the past eight months and it seems like it was about to turn into a third.

“It’s not any symptoms, is it?” I asked softly, moving my free hand to his stomach, under his shirt.

He shook his head, not responding verbally, “No, just depression.” He muttered.

I sent a look to the back of his head, agitated by his arrogant answer. “I’ll stay in bed with you, all day if you want me too.”

“We can go get Pinkberry later because that’s your favorite.” He mumbled into his pillow.

Hey, I love you.

“You wanna watch a movie?” I asked, knowing doing something a little more proactive than sleeping would help him get into a better mood. Hey, it was all about those lifestyle changes. When he slept, there were possibilities of nightmares, terrors and depressive over thinking.

“Top-“

“Gun?” I teased, knowing it was one of his favorite movies, “Of course.”

“Go,” he moaned childishly, nudging me in the stomach with his elbow, “you’re all ribs, baby.”

“Am not,” I mumbled, pressing my lips to the back of his neck, “where’s the DVD?”

“Is that a serious question?” He mumbled back- and even though it was teasingly, his voice was still depressingly flat. It meant that he was trying, but he wasn’t succeeding in changing his mood. Like
I’ve said before, he has no control over his own emotions.

“You don’t have to be rude.”

“I’m sorry,” I heard him pout as I got out of bed. I flicked on the TV and the DVD player and waited for it to turn on as I searched for the DVD. Once finding it, I slid the disc in and grabbed the remote, heading back to bed. John had placed my cup of coffee on my bedside table and was taking a sip of his own.

I got in beside him and he placed his mug down. “Good coffee,” he murmured, before slipping his shirt off and sending me a look.

I raised an eyebrow, knowing what he was suggesting. “Oh really?”

“Uh…” He began to blush, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh huh,”

I rolled my eyes playfully at him before pulling my own t-shirt over my head, staying in only my pajama shorts and my bra. I don’t know why, but the whole ‘laying-in-bed-shirtless’ thing was…well our thing. He draped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into him as the movie started.

“I love you, Leighton.” He whispered against my forehead.

Not only were his moods up and down and all over the place, but they were pretty much the same for me too. All this ‘I love you’ one minute and ‘I hate you’ the next was beginning to take it’s toll on me after eight months. I’m not kidding, he’s actually said it to me before, and the first time I cried. Like, pathetically right in front of him. But I grew used to it because I learnt that he didn’t actually mean it, it was his confused head talking. It was the chemical imbalance of the depression doing the talking for him.

I responded with the same sentence I’d been giving him for a year and eight-almost nine-months before becoming lost in anything but the overhead cloud above us.

***

What caught me off guard were John’s aggressive lips against my neck. We’d almost gotten to the end of the movie he forced himself onto me, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

“John,” I murmured, squeezing my eyes shut as I let his hands roam my abdomen.

“Mmm…” He mumbled, not really acknowledging me, but continuing.

“John what are you…John…” I groaned, as his lips moved behind my ear, finding my weak spot.

“Yeah babe?” He asked, pulling away and looking me in the eyes. I hated it; his eyes were so sad and…empty. I never saw those beautiful, illuminating green eyes, but was met with dull, lifeless grey ones instead.

“I love you too,” I mumbled weakly, before pulling his face to mine and kissing his thin lips. I ran my hands through his hair, indulging in the physical interaction I’d gone without for the past four months. John and I were very intimate people- we always had to be touching- so him being away was always hard on the both of us. Not just because of the lack of sex but the lack of just seeing each other in person every day.

Within a matter of minutes, he was hovering over me, moving his lips down to my chest and entwining our legs together. My hands lingered down to the small of his back and stayed there, playing with the elastic on his sweat pants.

“I missed this,” he murmured, between breaths. He was already almost out of breath, which only indicated to me how this was going to end up and it made my stomach twist. I know he was trying, but it was the medication, and I knew I probably had to stop this before it got too far, but we were both so into each other and I’d missed it just as much as he had that those worries left my mind almost immediately.

“I know, me too- never go away for that long again,” I pouted, moaning when he tugged on my hair, something he knew always got a sound out of me.

“I think…Leighton you’re so good looking,” he groaned, grinding against my hips.

Shamefully, I moaned louder, probably sounding like a cheap whore as I did so. But I mean…John was so enticingly attractive, what with his…everything. I gripped his hips and pulled them against mine, hooking my leg over his.

“Leighton…” He moaned, now as into it as I was.

“Hurry,” I groaned, as he slowly slid the straps of my bra down my shoulders, unclasping it at the back and replacing the material with his lips. God I’d missed this so much… “Don’t waste time!” I muttered, pulling his lips back up to mine.

John disconnected our lips and leaned over me, chest to chest to grab what was needed from his top drawer. “H-have I told you I missed you?” He scoffed, grabbing an individual package and dropping it on my stomach before going for my lips again, indicating it was my turn to open it.

“I missed you too babe, more ways than one.”

*

“It’s okay, John.” I insisted for the fourth time that afternoon.

“It is not,” He scoffed, keeping his back to me.

Oh, I probably forgot to mention, there’s this side-effect that comes along with being a patient on Prozac.

Decreased sex-drive.

“It is-“

“How is me not being able to get hot for you okay?” He snapped, pulling the sheets up. “It’s stupid and embarrassing.”

“I don’t think it’s embarrassing,” I insisted, turning onto my side and draping an arm over him. “Babe it doesn’t matter-“

“It does so- stop saying it doesn’t, because you wanted it too.” He shot back, shrugging me off. “Just leave me alone.”

I let out a frustrated sigh before sitting up and slipping my clothes on. “Whatever, I’m going out for Pink berry. If you want to be a man you could come with me.” I snapped, cruelly making the situation worse for him as I got out of bed, not caring that I was wearing old denim shorts and one of his over sized dress shirts.

“Fuck off,” he scoffed rudely.

I flipped him off behind his back before slipping into my Coltranes, grabbing my handbag and walking out of the room. I stormed downstairs, throwing around curses in my mind- all relating to my ass of a boyfriend.

I picked his keys up off the table in the hall before leaving the house and heading out to his car. Screw him and his bad moods. He wasn’t the only one in this relationship just because he had some stupid fucking condition. I didn’t give two flying fucks if he wanted to go out to Joshua Tree and do fuck all. Screw him if he thought I was going to be his personal doctor, picking up his slack twenty four seven. I was sick of saying ‘it’s okay’ when I was breaking inside- I was sick and tired of going to the chemist to ask for another dose of Prozac for my boyfriend.
This one time, me and John were due to go over to one of the guys’ places because they were having some big get together, and we’d gotten into an argument beforehand about his medication or something, and he didn’t end up coming with me. I was so mad I left without him. I later had to explain to people that yeah, John wasn’t with me because he’d locked himself in the bathroom.
Yeah that actually happened. His depression wasn’t cute, dorky, timid, or childish. He didn’t do embarrassing things that deemed him ‘awkward’. That’s not what depression is yet it is how it is depicted in pop culture. Every day with clean wrists is a blessing.
John didn’t cut, himself, but you don’t know when they can snap. You don’t know how far they can go before they’re pushed too much. You just…don’t know.

I parked in front of Pinkberry and searched through my bag for my phone and as soon as I found it, I pressed number one and call and waited for him to pick up.
How could I be so stupid? How could I think those things about him? It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t feel okay- even if he would never admit it.

“What do you want?” I heard him choke, the sound of him trying not to show he was crying, or getting upset.

I’d seen him cry so many times in the past eight months. He was a completely different person, I’ll tell you that now.

“Baby…” I didn’t even know what I wanted to say. “I love you.”

That was all I could think of and I only half meant it.
He didn’t respond, and that was okay. Just to hear him breathing on the other line was all I needed to understand.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he sighed, “I’m a shit head.”

“I’m gonna get you frozen yoghurt too, okay?” I mumbled, as I lifted my bag onto my shoulder. “And then…when I get home…we can…sort stuff out and-”

“You don’t need to do anything for me, Leighton-“

“I love you, John,” I repeated. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t, don’t say something we know I should be saying.”

We were such a mess, I didn’t even know what I was doing anymore. “No, John…I want…I want you to talk to me, and tell me things and…”

“You know I can’t, Leighton,” he sighed, the shame clear in his voice, along with the hurt.

That hurt way too much to respond to. I could literally feel us growing apart over the lack of communication between us. This isn’t how I wanted our relationship to go down. But it was, and it was sinking faster than the Titanic.
This was all I could think about as I grabbed us some frozen yoghurt and headed back home, shamefully taking the longer route back to avoid whatever conversation we were going to fail at having.

****

“This look okay?” He mumbled, emerging from our walk-in closet dressed in black skinny jeans and an old Marilyn Manson t-shirt.

“Yeah,” I nodded, as I pulled on a pair of light-wash skinny jeans. To be honest they could have been John’s, with all the holes in them. We were the same size in jeans, embarrassingly enough. But then again, we hadn’t yet gotten around to doing his washing from tour, so they were most likely mine. I slipped on a Tom Petty t-shirt (again, probably his) before heading into our bathroom to quickly fix my hair and make-up. “What shoes are you wearing?”

“Just my boots, babe, do you know where my left one is?”

As you can tell, we haven’t talked about this afternoon. I came home with our Pinkberry and we ended up sitting on the front porch in a comforting silence, and none of us wanted to bring it up. More like we didn’t have the guts to bring it up.

“I think I saw it under the bed, with the amount of times you just kick ‘em off,” I mused, leaning closer to the mirror as I applied my mascara. “You take your medication?” I asked casually.

“Not yet. Not supposed to take ‘em with alcohol,” He stated as he sat on the bed, pulling his boots on. He looked up at me and I looked at him through the mirror.

“So why can’t you take them?”

John let out a sigh. “I want to drink tonight, Leighton, sue me-“

“I will!” I snapped, “You’ve been drinking on tour, and you told me you hadn’t been!”

“I…I need something to get me through tour!” He groaned, “it’s not that big of a deal!”

“It is so! You probably drank enough on tour to keep you going for the next month!” I scoffed, finishing up in the bathroom before heading back to our closet for my Coltranes. “Dr. Adams said-“

“Said that I could drink, as long as it was controlled, and as long as it wasn’t combined with medication, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.” He stated firmly, leaving no room for discussion.
Well I guess that’s that.

“Two drinks, max.”

“Fuck off,” he scoffed, before leaving the bedroom.

Sometimes I seriously felt like punching his lights out.

I begrudgingly followed him downstairs, grabbing my mobile on the way down. Great, now he’d be in an even worse mood on top of everything this afternoon and people would definitely be able to tell.
I watched him as we grabbed our things and headed out to the car, locking the door behind me. He was so tense, all the time. When he got tense and stressed before the diagnosis, we’d do things like shower or take a bath together, and I’d massage his shoulders, or we’d go get a new record and just spend the weekend doing nothing but laying together and listen to it. Or y’know, we’d do the thing that the medication had earlier stopped him from doing.
Not this time though, because he was depressed and taking it out on me, something we’d both grown accustomed to as of the past few months. I shouldn’t have to be accustomed to that feeling, but I was, and there was nothing I could do about it, but sit it out. It was tedious, but sometimes that was the only way I could describe our relationship.

Going to Kennedy’s was not something I was looking forward to exactly. I mean, I loved the guys, and I got on with them great, and more so the girls, but tonight…and as of the last eight months, I couldn’t help but feel…a little out of touch with everybody.
Sure, they understood that John had depression, and what that meant, but they didn’t exactly get how restrictive the medication and the condition could be. If they knew any better, they wouldn’t have let him drink on tour. If they knew any better, they wouldn’t agree to go out to Joshua Tree. It made me look like the bad guy, like I was stopping him from doing band stuff, and making music. It made me look like the controlling girlfriend who didn’t understand the importance of John’s career. But of course I did, it was what paid our rent every month (well, most months). It was what he lived and breathed. Even though he never said it, I knew that if he had to choose between myself or the band and his career, he’d choose the latter. It was just how it was, and I understood that, especially as of recently. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but I couldn’t do anything about that, even though I’d give everything up for him in a heartbeat.

Arriving at Kennedy and his girlfriend Lydia’s place ten minutes later, John had either completely transformed his mood or was faking it for the sake of his pride in front of his friends. It was how it usually went when we went out and he was in a mood beforehand, having no problem taking it out on me.

I know that it probably didn’t sound like a healthy relationship, and I’ll admit that at times it wasn’t, and yeah, I even questioned why I didn’t look for a relationship that was more emotionally beneficial to me. But every time I tried to convince myself to leave, I just…couldn’t. I knew that if I left him, he wouldn’t recover on his own. He’d go into a downward spiral that was even more extreme than his past ones, and we’d lose him permanently.

John’s hand around my waist is what brought me back to reality as we entered Kennedy’s premises around the back gate that we usually entered through. The gang was already present, hanging around the backyard, drinking, smoking and talking with sound of some old rock n roll record playing in the background. It really was where we all belonged.

“O’Callaghan!” Someone called, before Kennedy and Lydia walked over to greet us.

“Hey man,” Kennedy greeted, giving John one of those bro hugs before kissing me on the cheek.

“Hey guys,” he replied, forcing a small smile onto his face. “Hey Lyd,”

“Long time no see,” Lydia laughed, hugging us both. “Drinks?”

I subtly looked over at John, wondering whether or not he was going to go against what I’d said earlier to him right in front of me.

“Yeah sure,”

What else was I expecting from him?
We were split apart from each other about fifteen minutes after our arrival, John going to talk with the guys while I stayed with a few of the guys. There was an obvious tension between us that only grew throughout the night as he downed his beer. I was cutting him off at two, and that was final. Even if I looked like the bad guy, I was cutting him off. He had his appointment tomorrow at Dr. Adams’ office and I’d be damned if I was going to be showing up with a still-drunk boyfriend.
But obviously I wasn’t doing a good enough job at hiding our problems because I was asked about it quite early in the night.

“Is everything okay between you and John?” Jac asked, sounding genuinely concerned about my relationship.

I shrugged, not wanting to complain too much. “He’s just being difficult right now, is all.” I said, downplaying the growing tension and constant fights.

Lydia raised an eyebrow at me. “You guys haven’t spoken to each other since you got here, meanwhile, Hilary’s making out with Austin.”

I frowned, looking over at Hilary and Austin, who were in their own little word, their lips running wild over each other’s faces. They were always on and off with each other, never taking their relationship more serious than sex and getting high. I guess they were on with each other tonight. “They’re always making out.”

“Funny that, you and John are always being ‘difficult’.” Parker mused, raising an eyebrow at me.

“I’m surprised Jared hasn’t told you everything.” I threw back harmlessly. Everybody knew how perfect Parker and Jared were together. It intimidated us all without a doubt.

She shot me a look before continuing on. “It just seems more intense tonight, that’s all.”

I let out a surrendering sigh. The girls knew me well so whatever I said to them wouldn’t suffice unless it was the blatant truth. “We were supposed to see my parents yesterday, but we didn’t because he had a melt down and punched a hole in our bedroom wall,” I started off, trying to ignore their sympathetic and shocked faces. I was way too used to those. “Things have been tense ever since, and last night at dinner we argued over the band trip to Joshua Tree that the guys are planning.”

“They’re going straight into recording already?” Jac asked, sounding as surprised as I was when I heard it from John. “That was quick.”

“Let me guess, you unintentionally told him to quit the band?” Lydia asked, her mind ticking.

I bit my lip. “I told him he should take a break. I mean, the last writing process ended up with his diagnosis of depression, I can only imagine what this one will do.”

“You don’t…” Lydia looked stumped, her eyebrows furrowing, “you don’t think this one’ll push him over the edge, do you? I mean the guys wouldn’t let that happen, they know John.”

I frowned, somewhat offended. “What; and I don’t? I live with him; I’m the one fixing him all the time.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Lydia sighed, “I just didn’t know it’d gotten that bad, to that extent.”

“It’s not even the major issue,” I mumbled, “Not right now, anyway. He’s decided he’s going, regardless of my concern.”

“So it’s something else…” Tate (Garrett’s girl) dragged out, pushing me to continue.

My cheeks reddened at the thought of what happened this afternoon. I knew I could trust the girls with this, I’d told them so many things about John’s condition before, not to mention we’ve all shared our share of…bedroom stories in the past. “I uh…we were…in bed this afternoon, watching a movie, and he started too…” I looked away as a few of the girls started to smirk. “He couldn’t…because of the medication. He got really angry over it.”

“What, he couldn’t start or he couldn’t finish?” Jac asked, furrowing her eyebrows as she was clearly confused. I don’t know how she couldn’t understand what I was saying, and that that was painful enough for me without going into details also.

“Start,” I blushed, “and it’s not funny!” I defended quickly, knowing how immature the girls could get some times. “He got really upset over it, and that’s just added to the tension between us, plus he’s super stressed from tour still.”

“Maybe you need to see a sex therapist,” Tate mused, joking slightly.

“Okay, not the conversation I was going for,” I stated firmly, ruling out any time for sexual jokes or comments. “Anyway, that’s why John and myself are ‘being difficult’ right now. And I don’t know how to fix it so yeah,” I sighed, taking a sip of my first and only beer for the night. I think John was on his second one now, so as soon as he’d finished that one, I’d watch to see if he’d take another one.

That was how my night turned out to be so tediously boring. Usually I’d be more than thrilled to take a break from constantly watching over my boyfriend in order to see and catch up with friends. But when I had to continue hovering and looking over at him, it began to get quite tiring.
So you can imagine how disappointed I was when I saw what I thought was his third beer. It was hitting eleven as well, so I knew it was time for us to head home in order to be up early for his appointment at seven thirty the following morning.

I excused myself from the conversation, before approaching John, who seemed to be a bit louder and messier than before when I left him with the guys. “John,”

He looked over me and frowned, “What now?” He mumbled, turning away from the guys.

“Is that your third?” I asked calmly, not wanting him to think I was attacking him.

“Fifth,” he smirked drunkenly.

Now it was my turn to frown. Five drinks? How the hell had I not noticed that he was on his fifth drink? I placed my hands over his, trying to subtly pry it from him.

“John we gotta go home now, you have an appointment first thing tomorrow and you’re not supposed to be drinking this much-“

“Gimme a break, Leighton,” he scoffed rudely, before turning back to the guys, who seemed to be noticing what was going on.

“John,” I pushed, placing an arm on his bicep, “John listen to me,”

“Fuck off,” he muttered, viciously pulling his arm away as if I was diseased.

I looked to the guys for help, but none of them seemed to know what to do, and I didn’t blame them.

“We’re going, now.” I said firmly, getting more and more pissed off with him by the minute.

“You don’t tell me what to do-“

“I fucking do when I’m the one making the fucking doctors appointments!” I hissed, shoving him slightly. Not enough to be abusive, but just enough to get him to listen to me.

The anger rose within him and before I knew it, he turned around and threw his drink on me, the beer splattering my t-shirt. He didn’t throw the bottle, but it did enough to get Garrett to step forward.

“Yeah you’ve had more than enough, dick head,” He muttered, grabbing John and guiding him inside, my guess towards the front door.

Before I could follow, both Kennedy and Lydia approached me.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Lydia frowned, her eyes following Garrett and John inside.

“Yeah,” I nodded quickly, shaking my hands off. “I’m fine-“

“Shit, what happened to your hand?” Jared asked, drawing more attention to my red bruised hand.

I pulled it down immediately, more ashamed than anything. “Nothing, it was an accident-“

“Wait you mean he did that to you?” Eric asked, stepping forward.

The guys kind of looked shocked that one of their best mates would be that capable of something like that. The girls looked like their guy had done it to them. That’s the thing about girls; we all feel eachothers’ pain.

“I gotta go,” I said, “He has an appointment in the morning and I have to get him home.”

“D’you need a hand?” Jared asked, genuinely concerned. “I’ll help if you need it.”

I shook my head quickly, hating the sympathy they were all giving me. “No it’s fine, guys I’ve got it under control, really,” I turned to Kennedy and Leighton, giving them both a hug. “Thanks for tonight, I’ll see you all later.”

I really couldn’t get out of there fast enough. The walk into the kitchen where Garrett had John was terrifyingly short, and I noted that that was the first time in my relationship with John that I felt ‘scared’ to see him. I stopped short when I heard Garrett’s firm whispers to John.


“Look dude, hurting your girl friend like that isn’t on, especially in front of everyone else, you got it?”

“I didn’t hurt her, I just-“

“You threw your drink on her!”

“Did you hear her? She thought she could boss me around and crap-“

“Who gives a shit?! She’s your girlfriend; swallow your pride, man.”


I took the initiative to step in and let Garrett off the hook with our problems. He helped me drag John to the car before retreating inside, offering future help and saying that I could call for anything. I gave him a hug in thanks and with that we were driving home.

John was ignoring me, which wasn’t a surprise. He looked out the window the whole time, even though the alcohol in his body was tempting him to start screaming at me. We were about half way home when he sniffed loudly, covering it up with a cough almost immediately. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and watched him wipe away what could have been the beginning of a tear.

That made me feel like shit.

What kind of girlfriend makes their boyfriend cry?