Status: Complete
Breathe
Fake
She follows them, her mind trying slowly to click into gear. "Wait, no, I need to say this," she stutters, walking a little faster.
"Whatever it is, just tell Brian, okay?" Craig says, reaching the front of the bus and stepping down the stairs. Monte stands behind him, questions written all over his face, as well as the feeling that runs through his every vein of an unbearably strong desire to run in any direction other than the girl's that's standing in their bus. Whoever she is, she's weirding him out; and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the feeling that she's looking through his eyes, right into his soul. He just wants a relaxed drink with his friend.
"Let's go, dude," he mumbles, nudging Craig forward and following him out of the door. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, keeping his head down as they make their way away from the bus and down the sidewalk.
"No...!" she calls, now desperate to regain the strength, motivation, and determination that she had when she was coming in, "Just wait half a second!"
They keep walking, and she stops herself just outside the door. She stares at their backs as they ignore her. "Please, Bryan!" He groans inwardly and closes his eyes, stopping reluctantly in his tracks and letting his head loll back in frustration. Craig glances back at him.
"Just go, dude, I'll meet you there in a minute." Grunting under his breath, Craig nods and turns away, walking towards the bar down the street they've both become accustomed to.
"My name is Molly," she states, slowly making her way towards him. "You don't know me, but...you might remember me..." He turns in her direction.
"Look, that doesn't really make much sense. I appreciate that you came to our show and everything, but I'm not comfortable with this and I think you should honestly just leave." She makes another few steps, letting her eyes stay on his despite the way it makes her stomach churn. She nods.
"I know it doesn't. And I'll leave as soon as I'm done telling you this." He purses his lips and lets his shoulders fall forward in defeat.
"Fine; what can I do for you, Molly? Where am I supposed to remember you from?" She feels her cheeks tint with emotion and stares down at the ground.
"I've loved you for a very long time," she tells him, knowing the kind of thoughts that those words will cause. "Since I was eleven and a half; almost twelve. And you weren't...in a band, you weren't even much of a guitarist yet," she lets out a soft laugh and shrugs her shoulders, stuffing her hands nervously into the front pockets of her jeans. "But I loved you because you were nice to me, and... you listened to my ideas. You even read my lyrics once; I thought I was going to die of embarrassment, but... You told me you loved them." He stares at her, unsure of what the hell she's talking about and feeling his feet move instinctively backwards.
"Bryan, I loved you because you were my big brother's friend, almost his best friend if it weren't for another young man who at the time used to flirt with every girl that walked past him. I loved you because, besides my brother and my papa, you, two other guys in your group, and your sister were the only people that I could be myself around. And you would smile at me in a way that no one else ever did."
"What the hell are you even..." he trails off, shaking his head. "Are you on medication?" She frowns; maybe her fears from long ago were true. Maybe her and her old best friend had been wrong. "I don't understand."
"Bryan, I want you to think. I want you to picture a world better than this one, where...I don't know, maybe your childhood was different, or...something. Whatever it may be for you. Now picture a group of people that means the world to you. If you combined the two, wouldn't it be amazing?" she asks, hiding the desperation in her voice with enthusiasm instead.
"Say something that will convince me that you remember something real," he murmurs. "Otherwise, I'm walking away and this conversation is over. I'm not going to put myself through some crazy girl's imaginary world, alright?"
"What do you mean? Are you saying you remember?" she asks. She doesn't know if that's the right thing to say, but she doesn't care; she needs to know.
"What I remember, and what you remember, could be two completely unrelated, completely different things."
She nods and closes her eyes, inhaling a slow and shaky breath. "Okay. We... We used to hang out because my brother wanted someone he trusted to be with his little sister while he went out; that's how it started. But...then he started to sneak your little sister out and take her to dinner, or a movie, or on a drive. And, you'd get stuck spending the whole night with me because...because he'd just "forget" to call or come home before the a.m. And those were my favorite nights, because after I got a little older, it started to feel real. I'd kiss your forehead and tuck you in, and when you woke up, you'd wait for him to come home and then, hold me in your arms in this bogus hug for ten minutes straight, and I knew I was only agreeing to one of those hugs because it meant I'd spend time in your arms, even though I told you and my brother both that it was to thank you for keeping me safe, and all of the-"
"Just...stop, okay? You're embarrassing yourself," he blurts, interrupting her as she tries hopelessly to conjure up memories from a world that only she and one other person remembered. He waves his hand in the air to stop it, turning away from her and beginning to walk as quickly as he can. "I wish you the best. Have a good life." She just stays motionless, a crack sounding in her chest where her heart crumbles to pieces and a stream beginning to flow from each eye full of tears that she could never put in words.
"So...it really was all fake, wasn't it?" she fumbles over her words as he walks away. "My brother taking care of me? Papa's heart being taken by Mama and put back together after what happened when I was little? The kiss that took my breath away standing in the rain and the cold, the song I wrote that only you and my brother knew was mine?" His step slows, but he continues walking. She leans forward, devastation filling her every feature. Her body curls up into a ball where she stands, her knees held straight but the rest of her bent forward, her arms crossed over her chest and her hands clutching her heart.
"D-Desi, and Xander....Annie, and Monte; all fake?" she whimpers, not caring that he was probably already long gone, and that she was nothing but a lone girl on a dark sidewalk, wrapped tightly in her pain. It was time to let go of this dream.
However, as the tears run freely down her cheeks, she hears a weak whisper; four words that stop her bumbling and hopeless falling in their tracks.
"What did you say...?"
She meekly lifts her head, her fingers coming up to brush her hair back from her tear-soaked face. Her eyes meet his and the moonlight hits them, allowing her to see the emotion building in the form of tears similar to her own. She opens her mouth and forces words to leave her lips. "I-I said that...the four children I convinced myself were real... I said they must all have been imaginary."
"Did you s-say Desi?" His feet stay planted to the cement, unwilling and unable to move. His entire body is frozen, his mouth open and his heart slow to beat. "Say them again, all of them."
Staring back at him, she repeats each name. Desi. Xander. Annie. Monte. With each syllable, his eyes fill higher with tears waiting to spill over; with each of the four names, he feels emotion envelope every part of him.
She steps forward, swallowing audibly. "You remember them. Don't you...?" she whispers, her fingers reaching out towards him. Her palm turns face up, offering it to him. He looks down at her hand.
"Destiny... Alexander... Annabelle. Monte the third..." he mumbles slowly, two drops of salty tears making their way down his tan cheeks as pale moonlight illuminates his hand as it moves forward. His fingertips seem almost to shake as they come closer to hers. He takes her hand in his own and as they touch, their memories rush back to them both. A flood of everything that they should remember; inundating them and taking their breath away.
"Yes," he whispers. He nods his head and finally brings his eyes back up, meeting hers as she stares longingly up at him. "I do remember..."
He swallows, and tightens his grasp on her hand. "I remember home."
"Whatever it is, just tell Brian, okay?" Craig says, reaching the front of the bus and stepping down the stairs. Monte stands behind him, questions written all over his face, as well as the feeling that runs through his every vein of an unbearably strong desire to run in any direction other than the girl's that's standing in their bus. Whoever she is, she's weirding him out; and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the feeling that she's looking through his eyes, right into his soul. He just wants a relaxed drink with his friend.
"Let's go, dude," he mumbles, nudging Craig forward and following him out of the door. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, keeping his head down as they make their way away from the bus and down the sidewalk.
"No...!" she calls, now desperate to regain the strength, motivation, and determination that she had when she was coming in, "Just wait half a second!"
They keep walking, and she stops herself just outside the door. She stares at their backs as they ignore her. "Please, Bryan!" He groans inwardly and closes his eyes, stopping reluctantly in his tracks and letting his head loll back in frustration. Craig glances back at him.
"Just go, dude, I'll meet you there in a minute." Grunting under his breath, Craig nods and turns away, walking towards the bar down the street they've both become accustomed to.
"My name is Molly," she states, slowly making her way towards him. "You don't know me, but...you might remember me..." He turns in her direction.
"Look, that doesn't really make much sense. I appreciate that you came to our show and everything, but I'm not comfortable with this and I think you should honestly just leave." She makes another few steps, letting her eyes stay on his despite the way it makes her stomach churn. She nods.
"I know it doesn't. And I'll leave as soon as I'm done telling you this." He purses his lips and lets his shoulders fall forward in defeat.
"Fine; what can I do for you, Molly? Where am I supposed to remember you from?" She feels her cheeks tint with emotion and stares down at the ground.
"I've loved you for a very long time," she tells him, knowing the kind of thoughts that those words will cause. "Since I was eleven and a half; almost twelve. And you weren't...in a band, you weren't even much of a guitarist yet," she lets out a soft laugh and shrugs her shoulders, stuffing her hands nervously into the front pockets of her jeans. "But I loved you because you were nice to me, and... you listened to my ideas. You even read my lyrics once; I thought I was going to die of embarrassment, but... You told me you loved them." He stares at her, unsure of what the hell she's talking about and feeling his feet move instinctively backwards.
"Bryan, I loved you because you were my big brother's friend, almost his best friend if it weren't for another young man who at the time used to flirt with every girl that walked past him. I loved you because, besides my brother and my papa, you, two other guys in your group, and your sister were the only people that I could be myself around. And you would smile at me in a way that no one else ever did."
"What the hell are you even..." he trails off, shaking his head. "Are you on medication?" She frowns; maybe her fears from long ago were true. Maybe her and her old best friend had been wrong. "I don't understand."
"Bryan, I want you to think. I want you to picture a world better than this one, where...I don't know, maybe your childhood was different, or...something. Whatever it may be for you. Now picture a group of people that means the world to you. If you combined the two, wouldn't it be amazing?" she asks, hiding the desperation in her voice with enthusiasm instead.
"Say something that will convince me that you remember something real," he murmurs. "Otherwise, I'm walking away and this conversation is over. I'm not going to put myself through some crazy girl's imaginary world, alright?"
"What do you mean? Are you saying you remember?" she asks. She doesn't know if that's the right thing to say, but she doesn't care; she needs to know.
"What I remember, and what you remember, could be two completely unrelated, completely different things."
She nods and closes her eyes, inhaling a slow and shaky breath. "Okay. We... We used to hang out because my brother wanted someone he trusted to be with his little sister while he went out; that's how it started. But...then he started to sneak your little sister out and take her to dinner, or a movie, or on a drive. And, you'd get stuck spending the whole night with me because...because he'd just "forget" to call or come home before the a.m. And those were my favorite nights, because after I got a little older, it started to feel real. I'd kiss your forehead and tuck you in, and when you woke up, you'd wait for him to come home and then, hold me in your arms in this bogus hug for ten minutes straight, and I knew I was only agreeing to one of those hugs because it meant I'd spend time in your arms, even though I told you and my brother both that it was to thank you for keeping me safe, and all of the-"
"Just...stop, okay? You're embarrassing yourself," he blurts, interrupting her as she tries hopelessly to conjure up memories from a world that only she and one other person remembered. He waves his hand in the air to stop it, turning away from her and beginning to walk as quickly as he can. "I wish you the best. Have a good life." She just stays motionless, a crack sounding in her chest where her heart crumbles to pieces and a stream beginning to flow from each eye full of tears that she could never put in words.
"So...it really was all fake, wasn't it?" she fumbles over her words as he walks away. "My brother taking care of me? Papa's heart being taken by Mama and put back together after what happened when I was little? The kiss that took my breath away standing in the rain and the cold, the song I wrote that only you and my brother knew was mine?" His step slows, but he continues walking. She leans forward, devastation filling her every feature. Her body curls up into a ball where she stands, her knees held straight but the rest of her bent forward, her arms crossed over her chest and her hands clutching her heart.
"D-Desi, and Xander....Annie, and Monte; all fake?" she whimpers, not caring that he was probably already long gone, and that she was nothing but a lone girl on a dark sidewalk, wrapped tightly in her pain. It was time to let go of this dream.
However, as the tears run freely down her cheeks, she hears a weak whisper; four words that stop her bumbling and hopeless falling in their tracks.
"What did you say...?"
She meekly lifts her head, her fingers coming up to brush her hair back from her tear-soaked face. Her eyes meet his and the moonlight hits them, allowing her to see the emotion building in the form of tears similar to her own. She opens her mouth and forces words to leave her lips. "I-I said that...the four children I convinced myself were real... I said they must all have been imaginary."
"Did you s-say Desi?" His feet stay planted to the cement, unwilling and unable to move. His entire body is frozen, his mouth open and his heart slow to beat. "Say them again, all of them."
Staring back at him, she repeats each name. Desi. Xander. Annie. Monte. With each syllable, his eyes fill higher with tears waiting to spill over; with each of the four names, he feels emotion envelope every part of him.
She steps forward, swallowing audibly. "You remember them. Don't you...?" she whispers, her fingers reaching out towards him. Her palm turns face up, offering it to him. He looks down at her hand.
"Destiny... Alexander... Annabelle. Monte the third..." he mumbles slowly, two drops of salty tears making their way down his tan cheeks as pale moonlight illuminates his hand as it moves forward. His fingertips seem almost to shake as they come closer to hers. He takes her hand in his own and as they touch, their memories rush back to them both. A flood of everything that they should remember; inundating them and taking their breath away.
"Yes," he whispers. He nods his head and finally brings his eyes back up, meeting hers as she stares longingly up at him. "I do remember..."
He swallows, and tightens his grasp on her hand. "I remember home."