"Call and Response"

Josh angrily slammed the hotel room door behind him. “FUCKING HELL!!” he screeched, stomping into the room and tossing his messenger bag at his double bed. It hit the wall behind the headboard and fell onto the pillow before rolling onto the floor and landing with a soft thump.
“Hey! Shut the hell up! Someone is gonna hear that scream of yours and think you’re being killed in here.” The stylist looked up from her book, alarmed by his entrance. It had been the only quiet afternoon she’d had in a week, all because she’d had to endure the first few excitement-inducing days of tour on a cramped bus with seven other guys. Then when the bus had a scheduled overnight stop-over on the way to the first show, she had drawn the short straw and was stuck sharing a hotel room with the one and only obnoxiously loud, bouncy insomniac of a lead singer for the pop-punk band Marianas Trench. She had been happily enjoying her solitude until Josh burst through the door.
“I need…,” he trailed off, looking around the room.
“What? What do you need?” she asked, sliding off the bed and setting her open book face down on the night table.
“I need to fucking break something! That’s what I fucking need!” He was raging by now, visibly shaking. The anger was intense and he was barely hanging on. She was afraid he would have a heart attack right there in the middle of the room if she didn’t do something to help calm him down. His eyes were dark and terrifying and his hair fell wildly across his face every time he moved.
“No! We can’t break stuff! The money comes out of your pocket.” She moved across the room to get out of his path, as he had started to pace, covering nearly half of the open floor space in a single step.
“I don’t fucking care! I need to break shit. I can’t stand this anymore!”
“Josh!” She stepped in front of him and grabbed his sweatshirt sleeve to stop him. He was nearly oblivious to the fact that she was even there, so she barely slowed him down before he broke out of her grasp and continued over to the window. He raised his hand to shoulder level and the stylist panicked, expecting the worst. “NO! If you put your fist through that window, you’re going to be the one to explain it. NOT ME.”
He turned around slowly and glared at her with an incredulous look on his face. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?” He reached up to shove his hair back out of his eyes.
Inwardly breathing a sigh of relief, she was embarrassed that she had even thought that he would do something so crazy. But this wasn’t about her. “No. You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met in my life. I also know that you’re not exactly thinking straight right now. I’ve seen the kind of damage you can do when you’re angry, so forgive me for trying to talk you down, at least a little, before things get…umm…out of hand.” She was referring to the one time that Josh had gotten overly heated at a long list of minor things about two years ago. The band was having a small get-together at Josh’s house to celebrate the release of their newest video from the latest album and had thoughtfully invited the stylist. She was new to their group, but she had worked for them on the video and it was their way of asking her to tour with them. She didn’t know what had finally set Josh off, but he had gotten so worked up that he picked up a light wooden kitchen chair and tossed it through the back door of his home and out into the yard, splintering it to pieces. At least that was all he had done. He had calmed down directly after that and retreated to his bedroom for the rest of the night. It was incredibly rare to see him that mad. In fact, until the stylist had seen him throw that chair, she didn’t know that he even had the ability to become angry, but it wasn’t something she had let herself forget.
Josh leaned back against the window after hearing that and crossed his arms, seeming to remember the same incident. Staring down at the ground for a bit, he took a deep breath and looked up at her. “Fine. Forget it. Never mind. We have to get to the bus. Our one luxury night in an actual fucking hotel is over.” Josh pushed his body upright, walked past her and grabbed his messenger bag off the floor before walking out the door and leaving her wondering what had sparked that fury in him.
By the time the stylist had packed up her gear and had gotten on the bus, the tension surrounding Josh was unmistakable. The others were giving him space, if for no other reason than to keep peace and harmony among the group. The rest of the men were quiet, but exchanged confused looks with one another now and again. Ian and Mike shot a quick glance to her when she walked up onto the bus, but she knew no more than they did, despite having been forced to share a hotel room with Josh. She was actually surprised that he was in the front lounge at all, given his attitude, but there he was, sitting in the furthest seat away from the group with his knees pulled up to his chest and a book under his nose.
She went straight to her bunk and deposited her carry-on bags. The stylist could hear the unmistakable quiet repetitive clicking and beeping sounds of a handheld video game coming from one of the bunks against the opposite wall- Matt’s bunk. She didn’t see him when she boarded the bus, so that would explain where he had gone. The curtain of his bunk was drawn shut, indicating that he wanted privacy, so she finished unpacking her things and walked back out to the front lounge to sit with the others.
Twice, she had tried to break the silence by speaking to Josh and received only monosyllabic responses. After the third time, he stood up and walked away, only to relocate to his bunk and give the impression of slamming the curtain shut. Point taken.
After several hours of being on the road, the bus driver pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant and everyone was grateful for the chance to get out of the bus again. Fresh air, a new environment and a chance to have a little personal space sounded pretty good to almost everyone. However, it was still another day and another meal out. It wasn’t that special, especially for a touring band.
The tour bus was parked at the local greasy spoon diner on a highway, nearly in the middle of nowhere. It was early on in the evening, but the sun had already started to dip below the horizon and the temperature had dropped, letting everyone know that it was definitely the end of October in western Canada. She glanced out at the nearly-set sun as she paid for her meal to go and carried the Styrofoam container back to the bus to eat in peace, leaving Ian and Mike as well as the rest of the crew sitting at a booth. Josh and Matt had both elected to stay back on the bus and eat whatever was in the fridge. The stylist couldn’t blame them. Eating out got old after a while. She also wasn’t surprised that Josh hadn’t joined the group. His anger hadn’t subsided at all over the course of the afternoon and she was sure that he could use the time to himself. She almost hoped that Matt had been able to break Josh out of the funk he was in, but she didn’t expect miracles.
As she got closer to the bus, there was some muffled noise coming from inside. She quickly typed in the door code to the bus, opened it and climbed the stairs. The stylist got to the top step just in time to see Josh and Matt on the floor tearing into one another. She flung the Styrofoam container in the general direction of the table, feeling lucky that she hit her mark, and reached down to grab whoever happened to be on top of the fight. She may have only stood at 5 feet 4 inches tall, making her several inches shorter than any of the guys, but she was scrappy.
Dodging flailing limbs, she caught the back of Josh’s shirt and dragged him away with some difficulty. He was fueled by adrenaline-infused fury, but somehow she managed to pull him far enough back to let Matt scramble backwards and stand up. Josh stood and she lost her grip on his shirt. He started after Matt again, and Matt put his hands up in a moment of surrender.
This didn’t seem to matter to Josh. Sticking his middle fingers into the air in Matt’s direction, Josh yelled, “FUCK YOU! PACK YOUR SHIT AND GET OUT. Guitar players are a dime a fucking dozen. Every high school kid with an amp would kill to take your place. GET THE FUCK OUT.” Josh was really trying to tear Matt down in any way that he could, it seemed. He continued to walk toward the younger man, who had since dropped his hands to his sides and was backed up against a door. Josh presently had one pair of ripped pants, a black eye that was continuing to darken even as he spoke, and a split lip. Matt had a matching black eye, a bloody nose and was limping noticeably.
She couldn’t let this go on. Ducking under Josh’s raised arm, she put herself between the men. “HEY! Enough!” Josh took another step toward Matt until he was pressed up against her. She could feel the heat and anger radiating from his body. He was so unbelievably livid over something for the second time that day. She turned and grabbed his belt- just low enough to stop him in his tracks and make him wonder if she was really going to hit him in a place better left un-hit, and just high enough that she wouldn’t actually accidentally do it. He instinctively threw an arm down to protect himself and jolted backwards.
She let go of his belt when he bent over to cover his body. “Sit!” she ordered.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he yelled back.
“Do it! Just sit down and cool off or go walk around outside. Just get the hell out of here. You’re way too angry and one of you is going to kill the other. I don’t wanna be here to witness that. Now sit or leave.” Josh had never seen her so riled before and it took the fight right out of him for the moment. He quickly thought about taking a walk until he realized how cold it was out there and he’d need a jacket or he’d risk getting sick and possibly have to cancel the first show of the tour. As the lead singer, he couldn’t put his band in that position. Besides, he would have to walk past his stylist well as Matt to get it, and she was already giving him the death stare, so he chose to walk up to the front of the bus and sit in the driver’s seat for the time being. He propped a foot up on the dash and sulked at being yelled at like a little kid when he was a grown man in the middle of a fight.
Once Josh had left the front lounge to go pout, she turned her attention back to Matt, who had not once uttered a single word she had stepped up onto the bus. “You okay?” He nodded a bit and winced as he took a step sideways.
She looked at his bruised eye and bloody nose right before he dropped his gaze to the ground. “He really clocked you good…”
“Yeah,” Matt said. “I guess I kinda deserved it.”
“C’mon,” she said. “We have to get you cleaned up. Your nose is still bleeding and you’re a mess.” She ducked into the bathroom to grab the small first aid kit they kept on hand and led him back into the rear lounge so they could sit face to face. He was an adult who was perfectly capable of cleaning himself up, but she thought he might want to talk and this would give them a good opportunity.
As she lowered herself down onto the leather bench, she handed Matt some tissues and he held them against his nose. They sat together in the quiet for a few minutes while Matt leaned his head back against the wall waiting for the bleeding to stop. Soon, he started gagging and sat up when the blood started to run down the back of his throat. Groaning, he motioned for more tissues, which he then added to the wad he already held.
“So, what happened out there?” Normally, the stylist wouldn’t have gotten involved. She would have let the men work out their own problems. But the fact was that she had put herself in the middle, quite literally, and now she felt responsible for making sure each of “her” boys were okay. She wanted to try to fix whatever had gone on between them.
Matt thought and hesitated for a bit before clearing his throat and trying to figure out a way to talk around the tissues. “Well…earlier today, before we all had to be on the bus, Josh and I had just been sitting around talking. It started out as nothing important but somehow we got onto the subject of school. That’s always a little iffy with him because, let’s face it, the world knows about his past. He made it known. We knew each other back then, you know. I sorta randomly asked him what his first impression of me was and he responded with a pretty typical Josh-like answer by telling me that he thought I was kind of a stuck up little shit.” Matt smiled wryly at that. “And really, it was true. I wasn’t always so charmingly awkward.” He wiggled his eyebrows a bit in her direction. “And since we were on the subject, he asked me what I thought of him when I first met him. Since he was honest with me, I thought I could do the same. Unfortunately, when I told him that I thought he was the world’s biggest fuck-up back then and that I almost didn’t wanna hang out with him because I knew he was into some serious shit that I didn’t wanna get involved with, he just said “fuck you” and stormed off.” Matt shrugged, not knowing what else to say, but obviously feeling bad about the whole thing.
“Well…he was honest with you, so I can see why you’d want to be honest too,” the stylist said, trying to see Matt’s side. “But what happened tonight? What did I walk into just a few minutes ago?”
“Josh and I were sitting at the table eating cold pizza from the fridge. The conversation was going okay. I mean, we were trying. Everything was really fucking strained, though. He didn’t wanna be there with me and after a few minutes, I didn’t wanna be there with him either. Then Josh brought up the conversation from earlier again. I tried so damn hard not to get involved, but he was still so pissed off. I guess he wanted to finish the conversation. And…I suppose he just went one step too far and I sort of threw his teenage years back in his face.”
She cringed a little. He saw the look on her face. “Yeah…exactly. I may or may not have told him that at least I had tried and did well in school and didn’t become an addict at 15 and get expelled from grade twelve because I couldn’t hack it…”
“Oh, Matt…you didn’t…” He blew his nose and nodded, motioning for more tissues.
“Like I said, I kinda had it coming.”
“I guess you did. But, Josh should have let things be, too. You’ve all got your own stories and your own histories. He’s not the only one who went through shit in his life. He ought to know that.” Matt threw her a small but grateful smile and leaned his head back against the wall again.
About five minutes ticked by before the stylist asked, “Will you be okay here for a bit? I wanna go check on Josh and make sure he didn’t take off or something. I promise I’ll be back again soon.”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he said through the tissues. “I’ll stay here and clot. Could you bring me a clean shirt on the way back?” He motioned with his free hand to the blood stains that were splattered across his chest.
She patted Matt’s shoulder as she stood up. “You bet. And there are some wet wipes there for you to use to clean up while I’m gone.” He settled down further into the seat and crossed his ankle over the opposite knee, figuring he’d be waiting for a while.
As the stylist walked up to the front of the bus where she hoped Josh still sat, she cleaned up the mess the boys made during their fight. She straightened the table, picked up some papers and a box of blue hair dye that had been knocked off the counter and set them back in place. Then she cleaned up the trash can and contents, which someone kicked over during the squabble. Before she reached Josh, she heard him quietly say, “Thanks for that.” He must have been watching her in the mirror. She didn’t respond.
When she reached the driver’s seat of the bus, he turned his head and looked at her. The stylist smiled slightly and put a finger under his chin to tip his head up and into the soft light that barely reached where he sat so she could get a better look at the damage that had been done. “And I thought you did a good job on Matt! It looks like he didn’t do too badly himself there.” Josh jerked his head from her hand and turned to face in the opposite direction. He stared out the window, but the night had become so dark that there was nothing to see but the glow of the neon sign advertising the diner. Three burned out bulbs in the center of the name were the only distinguishing thing about the sign.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t making fun. I was just teasing you.” He pulled the hood of his shirt up over his head as if to try to hide from her.
“Did that little fucker tell you what happened?” he asked in an almost threatening tone, sounding as though he would be more than happy to get up and go after the guitarist all over again.
“No, Matt did,” she said, putting emphasis on his name.
Josh turned his head back to her and glared. What the fuck? Was she taking Matt’s side? “What the hell?!”
“No, before you get all pissed, let me tell you that he explained his side. He knows he was in the wrong. He knows he took things too far.” The stylist could see Josh loosen up just slightly when he dropped the fists he was holding in his lap and laid his hands flat against his body. “However, I also hear that you just wouldn’t let certain things go?”
“Well…,” he started. Josh rolled his eyes and shook his head slightly. He was about to explain, but she had already made up her mind. She had already chosen who she wanted to believe.
“Go on, I wanna hear your side too, you know.” She had either read his mind or the expression on his face. Either way, he simultaneously appreciated and hated the fact that he couldn’t ever hide himself from her.
She moved a little closer to him and pulled the hood of his shirt back a bit, then brushed his hair back out of his eyes. “I guess…I guess I deserved it. It’s just hard,” Josh said. “It’s hard having everyone know about my past and my personal life. It’s hard having people know that my music…our music…is so personal to me, especially. There’s a lot I regret and there’s a lot I’m sorry for. There’s just so much…there’s so much I wish I could have done differently. It makes me kind of shy and embarrassed when I know that others know about my life before I’ve ever met them. I hate that part. If I could just do this whole music thing without anyone knowing who I was, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Sometimes I just hate this. And then to hear not only my band member, but a longtime friend saying that fucking shit to me, it hurts, you know what I’m saying?” He tapped his fingers against his knee as a distraction from his thoughts and their conversation.
“I understand. And it’s really not fair to use anyone’s past against them. You’re both to blame. Work it out. You need Matt and he needs the band. Besides, just recently I believe you were quoted as saying, “we stay the fuck together,” right?” He nodded and blinked rapidly a few times. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder a bit.
“You know that line in the song “Push” that goes “I regretted it, I regret a lot of things”?” he sang, playing with the frayed edge of a rip in the knee of his pants, which must have happened in the fight.
“I do, yes. Truth be told, it’s one of my favourite lines.”
He smiled ever so slightly without looking up at her. “It’s the most honest thing I’ve ever written. That one fucking simple little line is the most honest I’ve ever been. How pathetic is that?”
“No…it’s not pathetic. Perhaps you feel like it’s the most honest you’ve been in a song, but your songs are pretty much all about your life and your experiences, right? You might not give exact details of every situation you’ve ever been in, but your songs are all raw and honest. I know you know this. Your songs are so honest that they change lives. They’ve changed mine.” She casually crossed her arms and leaned against the seat opposite the one Josh sat in and stared at the same neon diner sign. Suddenly everything around her seemed insignificant. It was a “come to Jesus” moment that she thought only happened in movies and novels. The stylist closed her eyes for a few moments, blinking back tears that were threatening to fall. Every time she thought about the songs these boys had recorded, she got extremely emotional and she needed just a minute to herself to regroup.
Josh looked over at her and her eyes were shut. He couldn’t help but to notice that she looked almost…what? Sad? But why? He studied her until she opened her eyes again, then he quickly looked away. “How?” he asked.
“How? How what?”
“You said our songs have changed your life. How? They’re…well…just songs.” Josh shrugged his shoulders and pulled the hood of his jacket back up over his head as far as it would go. “They weren’t written about your life,” he added very quietly.
She unfolded her arms and stuck her hands into her pockets as she turned to face him, leaning back against the seat again. “Jesus, Josh…the songs you write aren’t “just songs” by any means. Well, okay, maybe they are to some people, but not to anyone who really listens to them and hears them. And certainly not to anyone who actually knows you and the rest of these guys. Everything you write…it’s so relatable.”
He looked over at her again. “So then...you’ve been bulimic and an addict?” He seemed skeptical, and rightly so.
“Not exactly. I’ve been anorexic with an accidental bulimic side effect. But that’s not quite what I meant either. The truth about your songs is that no matter what someone has been through, everyone can relate to the emotions. The feelings, the power in your voice, the rawness…just…everything. It doesn’t matter if someone who listens to your music has never been in your exact situations. The fact of the matter is that you put so much of yourself into everything you do that every human being out there in the world can find a way to relate. Everyone has their demons and their haunts and past ghosts as well as their own types of addictions. Just hearing some of these songs is enough to make anyone re-examine their lives. At least, that’s what they did for me. I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing your work is. Then again, you already know it, don’t you?” She stretched her leg out and touched the toe of her shoe to his, simply to get his attention and make sure he was listening.
He nodded slightly and she continued. “I know you were hurt by what Matt said, and it wasn’t fair of him. He admits that whole-heartedly. I think he wants the chance to apologize to you if you’ll let him. I also think you owe him an apology too.”
Josh nodded again and sighed. He wiped at his eyes quickly and folded his arms across his chest, not making a single motion to stand.
She pushed herself away from the seat she was resting against and took the two steps over to where he sat. Lightly, she put her arm across his shoulders and he leaned his head against her side. Josh was so tense that she could still feel him shaking. Slowly, the stylist rubbed his shoulder and upper arm. It took all she had to get him to realize that she wasn’t taking sides when it came to either Matt or Josh in this situation. She was there for each of the boys in the band as they needed her, in every way that she could be, so she let him lean against her until he felt better.
“Hey,” she said quietly after some time had passed, “what do you think about heading to the back lounge to go talk to Matt now?”
“You don’t think he’s drowned in his own blood by now?” Josh asked, sounding irritated all over again.
“What’s all that about? I thought you were ready to deal with this crap.”
He sat up and put his foot on the floor. “In a little while. I just need some time.”
She ran her hand gently over the back of the hood of his jacket and he seemed to almost lean into her touch again. “Alright. Take the time you need. I’m gonna go back and make sure Matt’s still doing okay. I’ll be back up to check on you again soon, if you don’t go back there to meet up with him.” She left him sitting there alone with his thoughts, staring out into the dark.
Crawling into Matt’s bunk and opening the small space they each got to store some personal things on the bus, she grabbed the first shirt she saw and headed for the back lounge. Knocking on the door, she opened it and walked in to see Matt stripped to the waist, cleaning up the mess from his bloody nose. At least that had stopped bleeding, thankfully. She looked at the pile of bloody tissues littered across the floor at his feet and cringed. “You couldn’t use a trash can?” she asked, motioning to the waste basket not a foot away from where he sat.
He smiled and shrugged. “I’ll clean it up. Hey, thanks for the shirt!” He took it from her and tugged it on over his head. She shoved the garbage can closer to him with the toe of her shoe before sitting.
“So…umm…did you talk to Josh?” he asked, leaning down to grab handfuls of tissues and tossing them into the can.
She waited until he had cleaned everything up before nodding. “Yeah. He’ll be back to talk to you in a bit. He was really pretty hurt by everything you said. Jesus, Matt, why did you have to pull that card out? Of all the things you could have said to him…”
“I know.” Matt sat and cringed a little as he stretched his legs out in front of him. He had twisted his knee in the fight and now it hurt even more than it had a few minutes ago. He ran his hands through his hair before setting them on his lap. “Believe me, I know. I regretted it as soon as I said it. I’ll apologize and all I can do is hope for the best.”
“I think it’ll be okay. I really do. You guys are old friends and I really don’t think Josh wants to lose you.”
Matt stood up again to use the television as a mirror as he wiped the dried blood from his face. His nose was a bit swollen and both of his eyes were turning black as a result of the one good punch Josh was able to get in before she had separated them. Lucky thing, too, because Josh probably would have killed Matt. He turned around to face the stylist. “Did I get it all?”
She plucked a wipe from the box and stood up. Stepping around his bloody and discarded shirt, she reached up and cleaned a few streaks of blood from his face. “All pretty again,” she said.
He smiled. “Thanks, mom,” he teased.
It was a long standing joke that she was like the mother hen of the group, always wanting to protect them. The guys all loved being cared for, but they constantly teased her about it. She enjoyed it. She liked being the protector, the maternal figure, the one the boys came to when they needed a little reassurance that everything was okay.
She smiled at Matt before tossing out the garbage in her hand. “Now that I know you’re fine, I’m gonna go eat,” she said heading to the door. “Just hang back here and Josh will come to you. I’m sure of it. Be nice when he does, okay?”
Matt nodded and sat. “I will. It’ll be okay. I hope.”
She reached down to grab Matt’s bloodied shirt and tossed it in the hamper as she walked back out of the room. As she left the stylist could hear the sound of the television being turned on and some video game beeping softly as it started. She closed the door behind her and walked back up to the table near the kitchen, then sat to enjoy the first meal she’d had all day. She could hear Josh fidgeting in the seat up front, but she thought she would give him more time and space before trying to speak to him again.
Shrugging off her jacket and dropping it into the spot next to her, she opened the Styrofoam container. Soggy salad. Great. Rolling her eyes, she pulled the plastic fork out of the wrapper and shoved the limp green leaves around until she decided she no longer wanted it. An apple would have to do.
Just as she was about to grab the only apple in the fruit basket on the table, she heard Josh rustling around up front, only a couple feet behind where she sat. “Did you talk to him?” Josh asked, slinking up to the table.
“I did, and he’s ready to talk when you are. Matt feels really bad about everything, Josh. It’s okay. Go talk to him. It’ll be fine.” She took a couple bites of her apple and Josh stood there staring at her.
“What?” she asked, looking up at him. He was tracing a finger along the edge of the seat.
“Honestly, I’m a little worried. I mean, I fucking hit him. I hit him. That’s not anything I’ve ever done before and I feel like shit for it.”
“Then go tell him that. Sort it out! I can’t do it for you, as much as I’d like to.” She put down her apple, but said nothing more.
“Could I hide with you a while?” Josh was staring at his shoes the whole time he spoke.
“You’re an adult. You can do whatever you like, but I seriously think the better idea would be to go make up with Matt before the rest of the guys get back.”
“Shit…yeah…I guess.” Josh took a deep breath and sighed as he turned around to walk to the back of the bus, leaving her to finish her apple in peace.
Walking up to the rear lounge door, Josh raised his hand and paused. What if Matt hated him? Josh didn’t really want him out of the band. They needed Matt. He needed Matt. They had been friends for too long and it would fucking kill him to lose the guitar player. There may truly be thousands of people who would love to take Matt’s place, but Josh couldn’t ever see himself continuing with the band if anyone ever left. It would be over for him. The magic would be gone. Josh shook himself out of his thoughts and worked up the courage to knock. He not-so-patiently waited for an invitation to come in.
“It’s unlocked,” Matt said from inside.
Josh opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him. “Hey, I see you’ve got a game of Halo goin’ on here,” he said gesturing to the game on the screen and trying to make small talk to break the ice.
“Yep,” Matt responded without taking his eyes off the game. He shifted the game controller in his hands off to the side as if it would help his aim at all. “Yes!” he yelled at the sound of an explosion.
Josh laughed. “Hey, good shot, man!”
“Uh, thanks.”
Josh shifted nervously on his feet, suddenly very aware for the first time since the fight that the crotch had also been ripped out of his pants. This whole situation was awkward and the ripped pants only made him feel worse. “Can I sit?”
Matt shrugged, still not even glancing away from his game. “Whatever you want.” He was trying to play it cool, but he felt as guilty as Josh did and he wasn’t sure how much he could say without setting Josh off again. Matt felt the seat next to him depress a bit as Josh sat with his legs stretched out in front of him and his ankles crossed. He had his hands folded over his lap to hide the rip in his pants that Matt had noticed the minute Josh was pulled away from him during the fight.
Matt continued with his game while Josh became increasingly more restless. After about twenty minutes of this, Josh had enough. “Hey, can we talk for a goddamn minute here?” Matt fixed his eyes on the television screen but paused the game and set the controller down.
“Okay, yeah. I think we should.” He eventually stood and turned off the television, which he knew would be too much of a distraction if he left it on, then took his place again. Neither man knew where to start, but Matt decided that he had the most to say.
Matt leaned back against the wall and hoped the stress of the conversation didn’t make his nose bleed again. Lightly he reached up to touch his nose and checked his hand before tucking his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. So far, so good. He felt like he was walking on eggshells around Josh today and he was actually afraid to be the one to start the conversation first, but Josh was staring at his hands folded over his crotch and tapping his feet to keep busy, so he knew he would have to be the one to say something. Besides, he had a lot on his mind and he wasn’t sure he’d get the chance to say it again.
“Look, Josh…,” The guitarist looked up at the singer. “I’m sorry. I know I never should have fucking said what I said.”
Josh was suddenly irritated all over again, even though Matt was trying to apologize. He stood and considered walking out, but flipped his hair back instead and tried to act nonchalant about it. “No, you fucking shouldn’t have. Do you have any idea how bad that shit hurt, dude?”
“Yeah, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Fuck…” Matt reached out and grabbed a handful of tissues before leaning forward and holding them against his now-bleeding nose again. After a minute, he said, “If it makes you feel better, this whole thing is a motherfucker.” He gestured to his nose.
Josh’s ego deflated and he sat again and ducked his head. “I’m sorry too. Does it hurt?”
“Like a bitch. But I’ll live,” Matt answered with irritation in his voice.
“Sorry,” Josh said again.
“We’ve established that.”
“Hey, why are you pissed off at me?” Josh asked. “You’re the one that started this shit in the first place!” That wasn’t entirely true, but Matt let it go. There were bigger, more important things to talk about at the moment. He dreaded bringing this up, but it had to be said. He didn’t have a choice.
“You wanna know the truth? Seriously? Without hauling off and hitting me again?” Matt slowly pulled the bloody tissues away from his nose when he was confident enough that it had stopped gushing again.
Josh nodded.
“Okay, fuck it. Here goes. When you came at me before and we were fighting, I could fucking feel how thin you were. And I know how much you ate for dinner. You were sitting there right in front of me. Besides, she,” he said referring to the stylist, “shouldn’t have been able to pull you out of that fight as easily as she did. What the hell, man?”
Josh’s eyes widened and he stared at Matt. He tugged the front of his shirt down, which had been a habit of his for his entire life. “What? You’re fucking nuts, Matt. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t think I am,” Matt said, shaking his head. “I could feel your ribs, man.”
“Bullshit,” Josh said defensively. He sat up straighter and glared at Matt. The last thing he wanted to do was to talk about this, let alone get into yet another fight with Matt.
“Then take off your shirt.” Matt stood and gestured to Josh’s clothing.
“No, dude. I’ve had it with this shit.” Josh stood, too. He opened the door and started to walk out of the lounge with the intent of going to sit up front with the stylist, just to get away from his lead guitarist.
Very quickly, Matt tackled Josh from behind and the two of them landed face down on the floor of the bus. Matt was trying to rip the shirt off Josh’s back but Josh was trying his hardest to kick and clamber his way out of Matt’s grip. Four feet appeared in Matt’s line of vision before stepping over the pair. He was struggling so hard to keep his grip on Josh that he knocked someone back against the wall. He’d apologize later. He had other priorities right now.
Four arms grabbed Matt and hoisted him up and away from Josh, who was in the process of standing up. Josh bent over, put his hands on his knees and coughed a couple of times before managing to look up at Matt and say, “you fucking asshole.” The stylist moved to Josh’s side and he dragged himself upright after a minute. He held one arm across his stomach and let the other drape over her shoulders in an effort to stand.
Matt’s arms were held on either side by Ian and Mike, who had finished their dinner and walked back up onto the bus just minutes before Josh and Matt burst through the doors and fell to the floor. “What the shit, you guys?” Ian asked, thoroughly confused.
Matt glared at Josh, who refused to look at him again. Josh fixed his eyes on the floor in front of him, trying to ignore the shit-storm that was about to come his way. “Tell them, Ramsay. TELL THEM.” The stylist looked from Josh to Matt, completely unaware of what just happened. As far as she knew, they had been sitting in the back lounge apologizing for pissing each other off. Everyone knew it must be serious, though. Matt was rarely this angry and he never called Josh by his last name.
Matt shrugged his arms out of the grasp Ian and Mike had on him and moved to stand toe-to-toe with Josh. Josh didn’t have it in himself to fight anymore. He continued to hang on the stylist and placed his other hand on the counter beside him. He looked up at Matt and braced himself, just waiting for Matt to hit him again.
Instead of swinging on Josh again, Matt reached up with both hands and ripped the front of Josh’s shirt open, exposing his chest and stomach. He stepped back to the wall behind him and gritted his teeth at what he saw. Even from a distance, Mike and Ian could tell that Josh was looking thinner than he had in a very long time. The stylist still hadn’t caught on until Josh leaned back against the counter for balance and folded his arms across his body. In that moment, she realized how much his clothes hung on him instead of fitting him as well as they did just a few short months ago. Even his belt was fastened a notch smaller.
“Josh?” she questioned him, putting a hand against the back of his shoulder.
He shook his head. “No. No. Fuck this.” Josh shoved his body away from the counter and walked directly to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him.
Mike and Ian walked toward Matt and the stylist. Mike was the first to speak. “Holy shit… How did we miss this?” He looked up at the stylist. “How did YOU miss this?” She had just been asking herself the same thing. She didn’t have an answer.
“Me??” she asked, sticking her hands into her pockets. “Why are you pinning this on me?”
“You’re the stylist. Haven’t you noticed the way his clothes are starting to fit when you help him get dressed?” Matt narrowed his eyes at her, accusing her of not detecting something major that the entire group should have realized. “You also just spent an entire twenty-four fucking hours in a hotel room with him. He wasn’t shirtless once?” Matt knew that Josh, even after all these years, was still self-conscious about his body and never undressed in front of anyone if he didn’t have to, but he was angry and worried and looking to blame anyone.
“No. And I admit that I really haven’t been checking up on him, either. When I’m helping you guys get dressed for shows or videos, it’s a quick thing. I’m in and out. I help Josh into his harness and his clothes and I get you guys into your jackets and then I’m gone. You’re the ones who all sometimes dress in front of one another. Besides, I haven’t seen you guys in several months. Not since after the first leg of the tour was over. You guys all did a video together in that time. Why haven’t you noticed? When did this even start? Was he this bad during your video shoot?” The stylist turned the tables on the rest of the band.
“Okay, okay,” said Ian, holding his hands up. “No one is to blame here. We can’t break ourselves apart. There’s a lot of questions that have to be answered and the only person who can do that is Josh. What we have to do is talk to him, figure out what’s going on and why. Deal? Truce?”
The group nodded before Ian continued. “So, who wants to go check on him?” The three boys looked at the stylist, remembering how well she handled Josh when he relapsed back into cutting again the year before.
Mike smiled a little at Matt and Ian. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he finally asked, referencing the last time they had to decide who went to talk to Josh about something serious.
“Oh no, we’re not gonna go through that again,” the stylist said, shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous. This is really serious, you guys.”
“This is just how we’ve always made decisions,” Matt said holding out his balled up fist. “It’s even how Josh and I decide who plays piano on certain songs.”
“No.” The stylist put her hand over Matt’s fist, stopping him. “I get that this is your thing, but I’ll do it…again. Guilt, guys. I just can’t leave this up to who holds up the better gesture.”
Ian shrugged. “Are you sure you wanna put yourself through this all over again? I mean, we’ll be here too, if and when you need us, but we’re really kinda throwing you to the lions first if you do this.”
The stylist sighed. “No, I’m not sure, but because it’s you guys and because it’s Josh, I will. Jesus, you three…I must love all of you a shitload.”
Just as she was about to walk toward the door to the bathroom, the group heard the water turn on. She turned to face Mike, Matt and Ian and put her hand up to her forehead. Suddenly they all knew exactly how bad this really was. She gave it a minute before taking the few steps closer to the door.
She listened at the door for a few moments, rude though it was, but she decided she needed as much information as possible before she talked to Josh. When she had all the proof that she needed, she raised her hand and knocked.
The toilet flushed quickly. “Occupied,” came Josh’s raspy voice from inside. His voice sounded strangled and a little more gritty than normal. The longer the stylist stood there, the more convinced she was that he was relapsing again, but in a completely different way than he had before. She wasn’t sure if she knew what to do to help him this time. But fuck it all, she was going to try.
“Josh? It’s me. Open the door.”
“No, get the fuck outta here.” He choked on the last word and she heard him clear his throat.
She leaned her forehead against the door and pleaded with the singer. “Please?” The stylist gently put her palm against the door. “Come on, Josh. Let me in. It’s just me. I promise. It’ll be okay.”
“Fuck off,” came his response yet again.
She looked back at the other three members of the band who all stood watching her. Ian motioned for her to try once more. Third time’s a charm, she hoped. She tapped very lightly on the door before calling his name again. “Josh…please…let me come in or you can come out. Either way, you know we’ll eventually be discussing this.”
That earned her the thumbs-up sign from Mike. Josh liked his choices and hated being told what to do. If given the option, he would always do the opposite of what was asked of him personally. She should have thought of that first, but in the end, it didn’t matter because after a few moments, she heard the click of the lock from the inside.
“I’m coming in,” the stylist said, and turned the doorknob.
“Suit yourself.”
Josh was sitting on the floor in the tiny space between the toilet and the sink with his head back against the wall and one knee pulled up to his chest. He was rubbing at his extremely bloodshot eyes. He pulled his other leg up to give the stylist room to step in and close the door. Although he didn’t want anyone to see him like this, he had finally almost given up caring. Josh figured that if anyone could handle him when he was this bad off, it would be her. She had proven that time and time again about a year ago. He only had to look at the faded scars on his body to remind himself of that.
Carefully and slowly, she sat in front of him, cross-legged. “Hey,” she said quietly.
Josh wiped his nose with his hand and swallowed hard before speaking. “Hey,” he whispered back. He moved to copy the way she sat and dropped his head to stare at the tiles on the floor. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Josh reached up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand again, and then rubbed his hand on his knee. He had all the telltale signs of someone who had just gotten sick. Not only did he look the part, but the acidic smell still lingered in the air. He couldn’t hide it now even if he wanted to.
The stylist had yet to say anything else. She didn’t know where to go from here. This was new territory for her. But she felt like she knew how Josh’s mind worked, so she had agreed to be the one to check on him. She had better say something. Soon.
She slid herself closer to Josh until their knees touched. He still wouldn’t look at her until she reached out and put two fingers under his chin to tilt his head up. His eyes tried to avoid hers, but she held her gaze until he had no other choice but to look at her. Only at that point did the stylist let go of Josh’s chin.
“So, here we are again,” she said quietly. “We seem to be spending a lot of time together in this bathroom.”
Josh shrugged his shoulders and fixed his eyes on a spot on the wall just behind her shoulder. The more the stylist looked at him, the more changes in his appearance she noticed. They had only been on this tour together for a week, but she couldn’t believe that she didn’t notice the changes in Josh when she first saw him after several months. His eyes had dark rings around them, even moreso than usual, and it wasn’t because Matt had managed to really slug him during their fight. His already thin face was even thinner and almost gaunt. The rest of the band was right. His clothing didn’t hug his body as tightly as it did a few months ago.
Josh caught the stylist looking at him and he knew exactly what she was looking at. He could see pity and worry in her eyes before she ever spoke. “Stop staring at me and just fucking say it.”
“Okay, you know me well enough by now to know that I call you guys out on shit, right?” She waited for Josh to nod his head. “Well, here it is. It took a fight with Matt for that to happen, unfortunately. But thank god for that fight. You look like hell, Josh. Complete and utter hell. You haven’t been taking care of yourself and that’s obvious. You must’ve dropped at least twenty pounds since I last saw you.” The stylist spoke as gently and tactfully as she possibly could have, while still trying to make it known that she was completely serious about the situation.
“Thirty,” Josh mumbled. He couldn’t deny anything. He had been found out. No more hiding.
“Thirty pounds in three months?” She tried to hide her shock, but it only caused Josh to cross his arms and hunch his body over to appear even smaller. “Josh, dude…what’s going on? You haven’t done this in years, right? Almost a decade if I remember what you’ve told me in the past. We’re right back where we were a year ago.”
“No! That’s not fucking true.” He held out his wrists so she could see that he had no fresh wounds to hide.
“Okay, you’re right. This time is a little different. I’m glad you haven’t gone back to this,” the stylist said, placing her hand lightly against Josh’s pale wrist with the faint pink lines. He pulled his arm away quickly and folded his hands in his lap. “So, what’s up, darlin’? Why this? Why now?”
“Dunno…” Josh worked his jaw as he played with the metal stud through his tongue.
“No…tell me. Please. Remember that we all care about you and we’re gonna be on your ass a lot about this. You know what it was like last time.” The stylist put her hands on Josh’s knees. Now that she’d realized how thin he’d gotten, she couldn’t stop noticing the difference every time she looked at him or touched him.
Josh moved his hands to cover the ripped crotch of his pants. “Truth?”
“Always.”
“The new video for the single we just put out…I had to be shirtless.” Josh looked up at his stylist with glassy eyes.
She smiled a little at him. “I know. I saw it and you guys all looked great. I’m sorry I couldn’t work with you for that video. That video along with the song were both complete heart-breakers.”
“Ha…so I’ve heard. And thanks.” Josh smirked.
“So…what about that sparked all of this?”
He leaned back against the wall and tugged at the shirt that still hung open, exposing his body. “The video came out publically three months ago. I was so fucking excited about it. I really think it’s the best thing we’ve ever done to date. So I wanted to see how the people responded. You know…reading comments, searching shit online. Aside from people saying what you just told me, the number one comment was about how fat I looked. Fuck…” He blinked rapidly and raised his hands to wipe them across his face once again.
“Josh, since when do you let public opinion get to you? Since when do you give a shit?” The stylist reached up and brushed her fingers across Josh’s damp cheek. Now she was truly even more concerned. She knew that he had a need to be liked and a self-deprecating sense of humour that worked well with the public, but she also knew that he had a very ‘fuck you’ attitude towards life. He never took himself seriously and he didn’t usually give much thought to what others said about him. All of that combined could make for a great day or it could send him into a downward spiral. Every now and then, he sunk to some dark places. It just happened that this was one of those times.
The blond reached up and shoved his hand through his hair. “Normally it doesn’t. I guess…I dunno…,” he said, trying to avoid her questions.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just us in here. You and I have had these conversations before. Don’t get all shy on me now. No judgments. We’re just talking. You know how this goes. We’ve been here before. It’s always been okay, hasn’t it?” The stylist held her hand out palm up and Josh lightly put his hand in hers. She closed her hand around his and gently squeezed it.
Josh took a deep breath before continuing. “I guess…after last time…my mind is still in a weird space, you know? I was doing okay, but that just threw me. And now it’s in my head in a major way. It’s the same fucking thing as before. I can’t get out of my own skin. I can’t get away from this. It’s one thing if one or two people say something, but it’s an entirely different thing when there are numerous people writing shit about me and completely ignoring the work I put out there. I was okay for the first couple of days, but then I got obsessed with reading that shit and this… this is the result.” He gestured aimlessly to his body with his free hand.
The stylist lightly put her free hand against Josh’s face. “I know this is a little too little and a little too late, but the last thing you are is “fat”. And I’m so sorry you got sucked into that hype. I’m sorry you’ve been made to believe all of this.”
Tears welled up in Josh’s eyes once again. “It’s okay,” the stylist whispered. “It’s okay to be upset. It’s just us in here,” she reminded him for the second time. At that, he let the tears fall. He let go of her hand and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face against her shoulder.
She easily slid her arms around him and rubbed his back, unable to get over the fact that she could feel his spine, even through two layers of clothing. As badly as she felt for Josh, at least she now knew why he had been so moody lately and why he had snapped at Matt twice. Matt had unknowingly brought up Josh’s past, which sparked memories of everything he had been through at the time as well as what he was struggling with now, for the second time in his life. And Josh had been keeping it a secret. Now it all made sense. The secret was out.
“I’m sorry,” Josh mumbled into her shoulder. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this all over again. I’m so tired of feeling like shit. I’m done…”
The stylist could only understand every couple of words, but she got the gist of it. Moving one hand to the back of his head, she gently stroked his hair. “I know, darlin’. And the guys and I are gonna help you. We promise. We love you. We won’t let anything happen to you. Now that we know what’s going on, we can get you help. We can fix this. It’ll be okay.” She spoke to Josh in calm tones, using words she wasn’t sure he was even hearing because he was so distraught.
Suddenly he pulled away from her and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “No!”
The stylist needed a moment to get over the shock of being told “no”. “No” what? You don’t want us to help you?”
“No…I do. I just don’t want you to “get me help”,” he said moving his fingers in the air quote gesture. “This has to stay between us and the band just like it did before. Remember my contract last year? If I relapse, I’m stuck going to some kind of treatment center. I can’t do that. Not now. Not again. Please…” Something flashed behind Josh’s eyes. A memory of long ago was coming back to haunt him. The look on his face gave him away. Josh took a couple of deep breaths to try to calm himself as he was starting to feel some panic.
“Breathe. Tell me what’s going on in your head. Try to stay calm, though.” The stylist tried to catch Josh before he went into a full-blown panic attack. “You’re okay.”
He closed his eyes and took a breath which caught in his chest. He shuddered and took another breath before slowly letting it out. With eyes still closed, Josh frowned and pursed his lips. He was trying to remember all of the things that had scared him ten years prior. “Rehab,” he said finally. “Doctors, hospitals, medications, puking, not sleeping, not being able to walk in a straight line. So much…TOO much.” He spoke in fragmented sentences.
The stylist put both hands on his knees to keep him grounded and in the present-tense there with her. “What else do you remember?”
He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of the thoughts he had so badly needed and wanted to talk about. “So fucking worthless…”
“What is?” By now, Josh was lost in his memories. She wanted to shake him out of it, but she didn’t want to stop him from getting it all out, either.
“…me. I’m so damn worthless. I want out. I can’t leave. Stuck here. Suffocating. Dying. Can’t breathe…” The stylist knew Josh was still speaking from memory, but still, to hear Josh talk like that scared her. She needed to get him out of his head and back to reality.
“Josh? Can you hear me?” The stylist moved her hands from his knees to his shoulders. He was trembling so badly that his teeth were chattering.
“No…no. NONONO!” he yelled.
“Josh!” She spoke a little louder than she had been. “It’s okay. You’re here on the tour bus sitting with me in the bathroom. You’re not in a hospital.” The stylist shook his shoulders a little, but he didn’t respond.
“Fuck you!” Josh shrugged her hands away from his shoulders and instinctively reached out to shove the stylist backwards. He only opened his eyes and realized what he had done when her foot hit his knee as she hit the door.
“Oh, fuck. Oh, god. SHIT!” Josh crawled over to her. “I’m so, so fucking sorry. So sorry. Are you okay? Seriously, are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He knelt in front of her with a painfully worried expression on his face. His eyes were wide and the blue of his irises had darkened, which only happened when he was extremely tired, upset, anxious or scared. Now he was feeling all of the above. “Damnit, tell me you’re okay!” He was on his hands and knees, staring at her, desperately hoping that she would tell him that she was fine, but he was scared as hell. He didn’t mean to hurt her.
A knock on the door startled them both. “Are you guys okay in there?” Mike had given them quite a lot of time before he decided to break their silence and check on them. The yelling from Josh had been his cue to try to intervene, not that he thought the stylist was in any real danger, but it never hurt to make sure.
She righted herself and sat up, wincing a little and gently touching the back of her head where it hit the door. No blood, no bump. She was okay. “We’re fine, Mike. Thanks. We’re just not ready to leave yet,” she yelled back through the closed door as she looked pointedly at Josh. He looked relieved and sat back on his heels. She didn’t know whether he was more relieved that she wasn’t hurt or that she knew he didn’t want to go out there and face people yet.
“Thank you,” he mouthed back at her as she nodded in response.
Nodding was a bad idea. It made the room spin a little. She must have hit her head harder than she thought. If she sat still, she’d be all right in a little while. She was sure of it. She needed to focus on Josh now.
Once they were sure no one was standing outside the bathroom door, Josh stood up. “Let me see your head. I know you whacked it pretty fuckin’ hard there. I’m so, so sorry. It was all my fault.”
The stylist leaned forward a little so Josh could check out the damage but nearly puked when the room started spiraling again. With closed eyes and a deep breath or two, she managed to keep it together and her stomach settled. Great, a concussion. Josh found no bumps either when he ran his hand over the back of her head, but it was still sore and she flinched away from his touch. He thought it was because she was afraid of him, so he moved over and sat down on the closed toilet lid. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands.
“God damn, I’m so fucking sorry,” he repeated. After the last time, the stylist had lost count of how many times he had said that.
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” She leaned back against the door again simply to steady herself. That stopped the rotating for the moment. “I’ll be fine. I’m just a little dizzy.” She heard Josh groan. “Josh, relax. It’s okay. It’s not like you did this on purpose. You were pretty far gone, you know.”
He looked over at her and she was pale, but conscious. He couldn’t believe how much of his shit she put up with and she was still willing to sit here with him after all this time. After last time. After last year. The one thing he knew about concussions was that people who had them usually exhibited all the same symptoms she did, and on television, doctors always told friends of the injured to keep the victim…God…’victim’…she was his victim…conscious and talking. So he gave it his best shot. “Yeah…I guess I was. I’m still so, so fucking goddamn sorry.”
“Josh, enough. It’s fine. I know it wasn’t on purpose. Let’s just…do you wanna tell me about it? What was going on in your head, I mean?” She settled in and shifted her body a little to get more comfortable before crossing her legs again, all without opening her eyes. This might actually be easier for him to talk about if she wasn’t looking at him, so he mentally prepared himself to explain everything.
“Yeah, I do.” He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. He didn’t really, but after this, he felt that she deserved answers.
“I’m a little afraid to open my eyes because I really don’t want you and the room to start the jerky whirling motions again, and I very much don’t want to be puking all over your sparkly shoes.” She smiled a little. That’s how he knew she was going to be okay. She wouldn’t joke if she didn’t have confidence that everything would turn out well in the end.
“If you do, you do. I have others,” he said, trying to sound just as confident as she did, although he really did like his shoes. For half a second, he considered taking them off just in case it really did come to that. He decided against it in the end and slid off the toilet and back onto the floor. Josh took his spot against the wall between the toilet and the sink again. He was far enough away that he could stretch his legs out in front of him and cross them at the ankle and the soles of his shoes barely reached her legs.
“If it gets to be too much, it’s okay. Even though I don’t want to risk looking at you just yet, you can always crawl over here for a hug or…something,” she said putting her hands flat on the floor at her sides, then wiping them one her pants after thinking better of it.
“I really haven’t told you much about my time in the Center, have I?” Josh ignored her offer of a hug, even though he appreciated it. He just didn’t know how to respond. He also thought that he’d better just jump into everything he had to say before he lost his nerve. It wasn’t something he liked talking about and even the guys in the band, save for Matt, probably didn’t know much about what Josh had gone through back then, unless Matt had told them.
The stylist shook her head, which made her put a hand against her stomach and the other against her forehead. She hesitated a few moments before moving her hands to her knees. “Bad move…everything still spins in the dark.” The guilt made Josh’s own stomach clench. He never meant to hurt her. “No, you haven’t told me a thing about it. I just know you went there when you were about eighteen to get help for the addictions and the bulimia. But that’s about it. I sorta…figured there wasn’t much more to tell.”
Josh smirked a little and stared at the floor. She had no idea how much there really was that he could tell her. He only had to decide how much he was willing to explain.
“Are you still alive over there?” the stylist asked after several minutes of deafening silence.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking again.” He reached up to shove his bangs out of his eyes. He could do this. He could tell her everything. She wasn’t staring at him. She wasn’t judging him. She already knew what he’d been through. She’d seen the wordless writing he had carved into his body last year. Was it only last year? It seemed so long ago. But she’d been there. She’d been there through it all and she never once made him feel like shit about it. He could tell her. He could trust her.
“So…,” he started out, “um…I won’t go into gory details about my life as Terrible Teenage Ramsay, because it’s really not pretty. At all. And I think I’ve told you most of that anyway. Drinking, heroin, bulimia…yeah. That crap. I was doing the fucking Ramsay Fiction thing with Matt. The other guys hadn’t joined up yet. But that summer between grade eleven and grade twelve, I just fuckin’ disappeared. Truth be told, I don’t even remember where I was or what I did. At least, not much of it. I was just so blackout wasted. I just remember showing up at home again the week before school was supposed to start for the year. I had a guitar with me. I don’t even know where I got it. It was some acoustic piece of shit that I probably traded my soul for or something. Anyway, I’m told I fell through the door somewhere around two o’clock in the morning. I don’t remember any of this, so you’ll have to hang in there with me because I can only tell you the story as I’ve heard it myself. But yeah, I fell through the door because apparently I was trying to use my car key to open the damn lock to the front door of the house and my mom heard the noise and opened the door. She tells me that the first thing she did was to sit me down and hand me coffee. I don’t drink that shit.” Josh laughed sarcastically. “Of all the fucking things I did to my body, drinking coffee never made the list. I guess I downed about two pots of that and I finally started to sober up a little. Everything from here until the first day in the rehab center is fuzzy, but I do vaguely remember it. My dad was asking me where I’d been and I couldn’t answer because I didn’t know. Later I found out that I had been in fucking Toronto for a month. I didn’t…know anyone in Toronto back then.” Josh started to feel his stomach twist and turn a little. He hated telling this story. He’d always been so good about just giving people vague ideas and outlines of what happened, but the people who knew the full story were few and far between and he could count them on one hand. Still, he felt he owed his stylist. He always felt like he owed someone an explanation somewhere and he was tired of feeling like he was in debt there, but he continued on.
“I was asked the usual questions. What was I on? How long had it been going on? What else was wrong with me? All that typical shit, right? So that’s when the whole story came out. I remember my mom crying when she realized how much weight I’d truly lost. In three fucking months, I’d lost like…seventy-five pounds. Imagine what I look like now minus another forty pounds.” He watched as the stylist put her hand up to her forehead again. Josh wondered if she had a headache coming on until he realized it was because of what he had just said. She was upset. Immediately the guilt returned and he wanted to stop talking. This was the part he always dreaded. He hated people’s reactions to him and his stories. It made him feel like shit, even though some people never came out and deliberately tried to make him feel sorry for everything all over again. He knew his stylist wasn’t the type to do that, but it hurt him to see her so upset over what he had done.
The stylist’s head was still spinning a little, and she didn’t want to risk opening her eyes just yet. “Keep going,” she said quietly.
Josh couldn’t believe she had nothing to say yet. Most people did. But he kept talking anyway. “That night, my shit was packed up and phone calls were made while I sat at the kitchen table and downed more of that god-awful coffee until I puked. The next day, I was off to the rehab and treatment center.” His voice sounded very far away to the stylist. She couldn’t decide if he sounded upset or if he was waiting for her to condemn him after all this time.
She had to see his reaction to his own story, so she slowly opened her eyes without moving any other part of her body. As long as she stayed still, everything in the room stayed stationary. Josh was staring at the floor and looked…emotionless, as if he’d told this story so many times that it meant nothing to him anymore. But when he looked up at her, she could see the tears streaking down his cheeks once again.
Josh quickly stared down at the floor again. His voice shook as he continued to speak. “The next day I was driven to the treatment center. I puked in the car four times before we got there. I was still so high and hung over…or possibly still even drunk…I don’t even know. I was just so fucked up. But I was signed in and then the nurse went through my shit. At least I was allowed to keep my guitar and notebook. They gave us the first day to get used to the place and meet the other inmates. “Inmates”- that’s what we called ourselves. We were all being held there against our will. None of us voluntarily put ourselves into treatment. I mean, my own plan was to go there, and then come right back out and go back to drugs. Sorry, dude…I tried, I failed. You know.”
“The daytime was okay. I had a roommate that I didn’t mind much. I can usually get along with people well enough and we did okay. He was hooked on speed. That shit, man…no way.” Josh shook his head. “I thought I was bad off… This dude was just batshit insane when he was coming off that.”
The stylist felt well enough to move a bit, so she unfolded her legs and crossed them in the opposite direction. “I believe it,” she said.
Josh sniffed a little and wiped at his nose. “Umm…so yeah, the daytime was okay that first day. It wasn’t until about two o’clock in the morning that everything finally hit me. That was just a little more than twenty-four hours after the last drink or hit I had taken. I guess it was finally all starting to leave my system. The doctors and nurses couldn’t fucking give me anything, though. I couldn’t walk straight; I was so dizzy and fucked up. I had to crawl to the bathroom to puke, if I even made it that far. Everything hurt. The world spun counter-clockwise all the time for the next two weeks. Eventually I got so bad that my roommate transferred out because he couldn’t deal with me. The puking burned my throat. I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t eat…although at the time, that was good for me because I was still dealing with the bulimia. But they couldn’t do anything about that yet because I had to sober up first. It was just…it was the most fucked up I’ve ever been in my entire life. I really, really thought I was gonna die then and there. I thought the drugs would kill me before I ever checked in and I didn’t care. But in rehab, I seriously, without a shadow of a doubt, thought I’d die trying to get clean. After two weeks or so, though, the puking subsided and I could actually walk to the group meetings, which was a huge difference from being dragged there in a wheelchair and sitting in front of everyone looking like death. Even the one guy that I thought would probably die in rehab before I did once came up to me and told me that I looked like shit.” He barely smiled to himself, remembering the interaction and how crazy it was. “There was still such a long way to go, though. I had meetings with psychologists and psychiatrists and doctors daily. Plus the group meetings. I was getting sober, but because I was so fucking sick for so long, I physically couldn’t eat anything without puking. It wasn’t by choice this time, which made it really strange for me. I won’t bore you with details there because there’s really no story to speak of, but eventually, after about two months, I had gained a little weight back, I was finally completely clean and sober and I was sent home.” Josh sighed and ran a hand over his bangs, first pulling them over his eyes, then shoving them off to the side nervously. He had to keep busy waiting for his stylist’s response.
Eventually he looked up at her to see what was keeping her so quiet. All she was doing was staring at him. Again. As always, that made Josh extremely uncomfortable and uneasy. “What?”
“I guess I just don’t know what to say to that.” The stylist folded her hands in her lap. “I mean, to go through that...I can’t imagine the kind of hell that must’ve been.”
Josh ducked his head and nodded. He’d already said more than he planned to tell her, but now that he had, there was still so much more he could tell her. “It was…but the good thing that came out of it, or rather, the silver lining, is that it gave me this fucking edge that I didn’t have before, you know what I’m saying? Musically, lyrically, I had so much more experience and it turned me into a much better writer than I think I ever could have been without it. We had some free time just to do our own thing between certain hours every day and I was always off somewhere with that shitty acoustic guitar and my notebook. I already told you that that’s how the song “Lover Dearest” came about. But I had also written a few lines for “Push”, “Primetime” and “So Soon”, too. So in the end, the whole thing was a drag, but it wasn’t a total loss.”
“Jesus, Josh. No way was it a loss. You’re still here. And look at you now.” The stylist was referring to the fact that he was in a successful band, had written incredibly popular songs for other artists, had won awards for his writing and had people surrounding him who loved him, just as she had told him last year when they had to deal with Josh’s relapse into cutting. However, all Josh thought of now was the negative.
“Yeah…look at me now…” He sat up straighter, opening his shirt with one hand and poking at his ribs with the other. “I’m right back where I fucking started…”
The stylist shifted her body until she was on her knees. The sudden motion rocked her world a bit and she put a hand on the floor until her vision steadied. She crawled closer to Josh’s side until her knees were touching his hip and then righted herself. “Yes…look at you now. You’re still alive. And you aren’t nearly as far gone as you were before. You have to let us help you.”
He let his shirt go and drummed his fingers on his leg. “You can’t help me. The one thing they taught me in rehab is that I have to fix this myself. You aren’t stopping me from eating.”
“Then how can we help you? Darlin’, you’ve gotta tell us what to do or we can’t make this any better. And we all care about you way too much to let anything happen to you. I know I’ve told you that a thousand times before, and I’ll probably tell you a thousand more.” The stylist cupped Josh’s chin and turned his head to face her again. “Please.” After she let go, he reached up to play with his hair again.
“I don’t know… It’s not the same as it was before. I guess just…be there. Remind me to eat now and again?” An annoyed look came over the singer’s face as he remembered how the nurses at the treatment center used to ask him every day if he’d eaten even though they watched him like a fucking hawk at every single meal. And they’d stand in the doorway if he went to the bathroom after a meal. It was fucking humiliating and the last thing he wanted was to go through that all over again. God, no.
Unfortunately, the stylist caught the look on his face. “What’s going on in your head?” He truly couldn’t put a thing past her and he didn’t know how she could read him so well.
Josh filled her in on the memories running through his mind and she leaned in to put her arm around his shoulders. “I can’t promise you we won’t be doing similar things if it gets bad enough. But for now, we’ll do what we can to help without being a pain in the ass about it. You’re just gonna have to trust us. I’m sure you’ll hate us in the end, but remember we’re doing it for you, okay?”
The blond nodded and leaned against her for the second time that night. He sighed. “I puked tonight…”
She leaned her head against his. “I know,” she admitted quietly. Josh liked that she didn’t let him get away with shit but that she also waited for him to tell her things rather than dragging it out of him when he didn’t want to talk. It made him feel safe and comfortable around her. All he wanted to do was sleep. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t ever want to get up. He’d sleep right here on the bathroom floor against her shoulder forever. He could waste away to nothing here and no one would ever have to know.
The two of them sat together for another ten minutes before the stylist gently rubbed Josh’s shoulder. She could feel him relax slowly but surely. Eventually she squeezed his shoulder to get his attention. Very quietly, the stylist said, “We should go talk to the guys now, you know. They’ve been pretty patient about waiting out there. Especially Matt.”
“Oh, fuck…Matt.” Josh sat up. The last person he wanted to explain anything to was Matt. Josh had kept him out of most of this shit back when it was happening for the first time, not necessarily because it wasn’t any of his business, but because he didn’t want anyone to know or to see him like that. Now it looked like Josh had no choice. If he didn’t tell Matt on his own, he was sure the stylist would try to talk him into it. At the end of the day, he knew she was right. He owed everyone an explanation. There was that fucking debt again.
Josh took a minute to talk himself into leaving the safety of the bathroom. How ironic was that? This was the same room he’d spent a third of a lifetime in doing more harm than good to his body, yet here he was calling it a safe space. He almost laughed. This was pathetic.
“I’m ready, I think,” Josh said putting his hands against the floor and shoving himself up onto his feet.
“Are you sure?” the stylist asked, still kneeling and looking up at him. He looked awfully pale and nervous. He also couldn’t hide the fact that his hands were shaking.
“Yeah, if I don’t do it now, I never will. I just…I have to...” He was too mentally exhausted to finish his sentence, so Josh simply turned and rummaged around in the cabinet over the sink and pulled out his toothbrush. After brushing his teeth and using mouthwash to get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth, he put his things away and stared into the mirror for a moment. He looked like shit. His left eye was a horrible mottled purple colour and his bottom lip was split open. Dried blood trailed down his chin and neck. He turned the tap back on and leaned over the sink to clean himself up. When he stood, he used the bottom of his shirt to dry his hands and face.
Finally, after doing everything he could think of to stall, Josh looked over at the door, only a mere four steps away from where he stood. Four steps existed between himself and having to admit to three of the people he cared most about in his life that he needed their help.
Josh glanced down at the stylist. “Can you stand or do you need help?” She was looking a little woozy. In fact, she was looking exactly how Josh felt. He held his hand out to help her stand and she took it as she pulled herself up.
Once the stylist was standing, she had to grab onto Josh’s sleeve to keep from pitching sideways. “Just give me a minute to get used to the altitude. Standing, you know?” Jesus, Josh still felt horrible. He was going to have to make this up to her. He knew it was an accident, but he had really hurt her when he pushed her, and to make matters worse, she hadn’t even asked why he had done it. She’d just let him explain his teenage years. That wasn’t enough. He’d have to explain that to her later when he could get her alone again. More guilt debt.
The stylist slid her arm around Josh’s waist to keep herself steady. “Okay, let’s go.”
When they got to the door, he hesitated for a bit before unlocking it. She patted his hip before saying, “It’s okay. You can do this. Remember last year. The guys were all there for you.” Josh could only nod. He felt sick. He would have turned right back around and thrown up for the second time that hour if he had been alone. But he wasn’t and he couldn’t, so he put one foot in front of the other and walked out of the bathroom with the stylist against his side.
The bathroom opened up into the front lounge and Josh expected the rest of the band to be sitting there waiting for him. Instead, he discovered Brett- his guitar tech, the publicist and the tour manager sitting around the table arguing loudly about some sports game on the television over their heads. They were so involved that they didn’t even look up when the tall blond stepped into the room.
The stylist used her free hand to point toward the back lounge and they slowly made the walk back there, passing eight darkened bunks along the way. The rest of the band had obviously not gone to bed this early because none of the bunk curtains were shut either. And as the bus had started to roll again sometime while the stylist and singer were in the bathroom together, the back lounge was the only place they could be.
Rather than knocking, Josh reached out and opened the door. Without a word, he helped the stylist to a seat and then shut the door behind him. The three men watched with curiosity. Ian was the first to speak. “Are you okay?” He looked directly at the stylist whose world had started rolling in circles again from standing and the short walk to the back of the bus.
“Yeah. Um…I hit my head in there. I’ll be okay. I’m just a little dizzy.” She wasn’t exactly lying, was she? The stylist tried to rationalize leaving part of the story out and she figured what the rest of the band didn’t know about that wouldn’t hurt them.
“No,” Josh said sitting on the floor against the door cross-legged. “It’s okay. Don’t cover for me.” He briefly put a hand against her leg. “The truth is,” he said looking up at Mike and Ian, but avoiding Matt’s concerned look, “I did that.”
Being that Josh wasn’t looking at Matt, he didn’t see Matt ball up his fist and take a swing at him. Matt’s fist connected with Josh’s jaw, but just barely because he didn’t have the momentum he needed to get a good strike. “The fuck is wrong with you?!” Matt angrily asked of Josh. Ever since last year, the guys had been extremely protective of the stylist. She had proven to be a good friend to them and she was like a sister to them all. They had each come to her defense for one reason or another over the last twelve months, and she appreciated it, but now wasn’t the time.
Matt was busy telling Josh exactly what he thought of him while Josh sat on the floor and took it. Mike and Ian sat back and let Matt have his say, because if Matt had a reason to be this angry, it was best to just let him go. Besides, the rest of the men cared enough about the stylist to do the same. Matt had just gotten there first.
“Matt…,” the stylist said to get his attention.
“…ASSHOLE! How dare you?? What the fuck, man? Seriously, what the absolute FUCK? You attacked me once already today, and I deserved it. But her?? WHAT THE HELL?” Matt was yelling too loudly at Josh to hear her.
“Matt!” the stylist finally shouted over him. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands. Not only was her head pounding, but she thought she might be sick. She waited until it passed before trying to speak again. Luckily Matt and the rest of the men had turned to look at her, more to make sure she was okay than anything else. “Matt,” the stylist spoke his name for the third time without sitting up, “Josh didn’t hit me. At least, not the way you think. It was an accident. It most certainly wasn’t on purpose.” She gestured at Josh. “Josh, please explain. Fix this.” She took a couple of slow and steady deep breaths before she felt well enough to sit up again.
Josh had since pulled his knees up to his chest. “Josh, man…,” Matt started. Josh waved Matt off. He wished Matt had asked before throwing that first punch, but Josh could see why it looked so bad. Besides, since he had hit Matt earlier, he could stop feeling so guilty about that. Payback really was a motherfucker.
“It’s…whatever. It’s fine,” Josh said to Matt. “Now we’re even.” Despite both of them having gotten some punches in, Josh still felt better that Matt had gotten the final swing in. The guilt wasn’t as bad now. He touched his jaw. It was sore, but not awful. He was really lucky that Matt didn’t have much power behind his swing at the time, though, and he knew it.
“Do you want ice or anything?” Matt asked sitting back down.
“No…I just wanna talk to you guys before I lose my fucking nerve,” Josh said glancing over at the stylist. She nodded very subtly and slowly at him to void the dizziness again. Just having her on his side helped.
The stylist sat in the room with them while Josh re-told his story for an additional time that evening. This may have been the second time she had heard it, but the stylist still couldn’t help but marvel at the strength Josh had. Not only had he put himself through so much, but he got out of it and now he was talking about it all over again. She zoned out a little and only came back around when Josh had gotten to speaking about what led to his bulimia relapse lately.
“…comments on videos saying I looked fat shirtless…” “…couldn’t take it…” “…didn’t know what else to do…” “…telling her,” Josh said gesturing at the stylist, “…rehab…” “…lost in memories…” He made a shoving motion with his hands that the stylist caught out of the corner of her eye. He must have been explaining how she had gotten hurt. Drifting off into her own world again, she let him continue on.
The room had gotten quiet and the stylist looked up to see that Josh had stopped talking and had rested his chin on his knees. The rest of the band looked extremely unsure of what to do. “Fuck, Josh…,” Matt finally said, “we had no idea you were this far gone.”
Ian cleared his throat. Sensible as always, he spoke. “First thing we need to do is to get her to a doctor.”
The stylist leaned forward and looked at Ian. “No…I’m fine. It can wait. You have a show tomorrow night, then there are a couple days off and I know you’re sticking around the city, so I can do it then. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Our main concern is Josh.” Josh looked up and gave her a half-smile before staring down at his shoes again.
“So…um…what exactly do we need to do?” Matt was once again at a loss. He was starting to get irritated at how much his friend had kept from him over the years.
Mike had a serious look on his face as he turned to Matt. “We have to ride his ass about eating, that’s what. We have to be complete assholes about it, too, because I’m not about to let this idiot lose his life over this.” No one knew how to respond to Mike. This was the most serious they had ever seen him since last year and they both respected and agreed with his opinion. Josh, however, looked scared and skeptical. The stylist had just told him that they’d try not to be horrible to him about everything, but he supposed he deserved tough treatment. He had proven that he couldn’t take care of himself.
“Dude, I’m serious,” Mike said looking at Josh. “This is crazy. We’re gonna help you but you have to let us.”
Josh nodded. “It’s a deal, as long as this stays between us.”
Ian pointed a finger at Josh. “This is only gonna stay between us as long as you try. You can’t fuck around with this, man. This is your health. Last year was iffy, but you got through it. Now it’s your entire well-being on the line and we aren’t gonna let you screw around with that.” Josh’s eyes widened but he knew Ian was right. “Now go eat something.”
Josh wanted to protest that he had eaten today, but then he remembered that it had all come back up. Without saying a word, he pushed himself to his feet and left the rear lounge, followed closely by Mike, who only tagged along to make sure he followed through with the demand.
Ian and Matt turned their attention to the stylist, who had been fairly quiet the entire time. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Ian asked, sounding concerned.
“Yeah, I promise I’ll be fine. I just need some aspirin and some sleep.” She slowly stood, holding onto the wall. The dizziness had subsided a little, but she still felt queasy and unsteady on her feet. The rocking of the bus as it rolled down the highway didn’t help.
“Are you sure you should sleep? I mean, is that safe?” Matt had obviously seen the same television programs Josh had, and it always meant keeping the person with the concussion awake for a full twenty-four hours.
“I’m not really sure of anything, but it’s been a very long day and I’m exhausted. Keep an eye on Josh, would you? I’d do it, but I can’t. Not tonight.” The boys understood and agreed to watch out for him. It was still fairly early in the evening and they’d be up for a while. She didn’t know what would happen if Mike, Matt and Ian all decided that they needed sleep and Josh wasn’t even remotely tired. That happened more times than the stylist could count since she had been with them. She wanted to worry about that situation, but she just couldn’t. Her brain wouldn’t function well enough to let her care.
The stylist wandered out to the front of the bus to get some kind of pain medication to stop the throbbing in her head and she smiled at Josh as he and Mike sat at the table while Josh ate something that looked like leftover Chinese food. She gave Josh a thumbs-up sign and headed back to her bunk to sleep. Closing the curtains behind her, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When she woke, the stylist felt even worse than she did the night before. She felt sick, her head was still pounding and her entire world was spinning in a circle. Fuck. Maybe she really did need a doctor. She had to get through the day, though. The band had a concert and she had to be there. She raised her wrist in front of her eyes to check the time. Shit! She had slept for nearly eighteen hours. That couldn’t possibly be good. But there was no time to dwell on that because she had to get the band’s costumes together and ready for the show.
Slowly moving her way through the bus, she got ready for the day and downed a couple more aspirin tablets. They barely helped, but at this point, anything was a blessing. The bus had now been parked in the lot of the venue for several hours and the boys had gone out somewhere before the show. The stylist was glad Josh had gone with them. Now that his secret was out, Matt, Mike and Ian could be trusted to keep an eye on him. Hopefully they had gotten something to eat. Unfortunately, the stylist was so ill, herself that she knew she’d never be able to keep anything down, so she didn’t even try.
Minutes after she sat down at the table to check over everyone’s costumes for the show, the men came up the stairs singing one of the songs on the set list acapella-style. She loved how well they harmonized together and often thought it would be a good idea for them to do an all-acoustic or an all acapella concert or even cd. It was an idea she’d have to bring up with them later.
After the questions about how she was doing and how their day had been had all been discussed, she told them that as long as she didn’t move, her world wasn’t spinning before her eyes so she was okay for the time being.
Slowly moving her eyes from where she had fixed them on the table in front of her, she looked up at Josh. “And how are you doing?”
Josh knew what she was really asking and he appreciated that she didn’t come straight out and ask as if he was some little kid. It was humiliating enough to be going through this all over again. “I’m okay too,” he said smiling at her. “Really.”
“We went to a restaurant right up the road,” Mike said clapping Josh on the shoulder. That was enough proof for the stylist that Josh had eaten well for the day.
She smiled back at them. “Yeah? Good! And you’re back just in time to start getting ready for the show. Go get all of your gear and I’ll meet you inside with the costumes in a bit.”
Standing, she grabbed the garment bags and made her way into the venue and straight to the dressing room where she set out all of their outfits for the night. She sat and waited for the guys to make their way into the building. The whole head injury thing could really go away any time. She was already very much over it, she thought as she picked up a bottle of water and downed half of it. At least it was something in her stomach.
When the band arrived after going through their ritualistic twenty minute sound check, she helped Matt, Mike and Ian into their costumes and made sure everything was straight before turning her attention to Josh. He was holding his harness in one hand and looking at the rest of the band out of the corner of his eye. Gently, he took his stylist’s hand and led her to the corner of the room. Very quietly, he said, “I haven’t changed in front of anyone in three months. I don’t wanna be seen…not like this…”
The stylist had sympathy, of course, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. “Josh, I can’t ask them to leave. They don’t have anywhere to go. We’ll do it here.” Eventually she had him convinced. Quickly, Josh stripped out of his street clothes and she helped him step into his harness before buckling it around his ribs.
Shaking her head, the stylist quietly said, “Dude, I have to tighten this or you’re gonna fall on your ass out there. I’m sorry.” He had lost so much weight that the harness was all but falling from his too-thin frame. Quickly looking over her shoulder, she could see Matt, Mike and Ian all trying their hardest to act like nothing was different or unusual and looking away, pretending to be busy with something else, bit knowing full well that they had just heard what she said. She tightened the harness around Josh’s body and helped him get into the rest of his clothing.
He leaned down to give her a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered. She patted his back a couple of times before letting him go and turning to the rest of the group.
“Have a great show, you guys!! First show of the tour!” The stylist smiled at them.
Just then, Brett stuck his head into the room and yelled, “DUDESSS!! Five minutes until you’re on! Get your shit together and go kick ass!!” He grinned and ducked back out, letting the door close behind him.
The four band members smiled at each other. “Hey, will you come watch us?” Mike asked the stylist. “I know you were there for the one show last year, but it would be really cool if you’d watch our first show this time around. Please?”
She smiled and loved that she was being asked. “You know what? I will! I’ll be right off stage, just like before.” A big group hug later and the boys were standing at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the stage and preforming the chant they had come up with for good luck. The stylist had taken her place up on stage in the wings behind the curtain. She loved the excitement of the crowd before the band walked out.
The boys waited for their theme music to cue their entrance out onto the stage. This was the second leg of the much longer tour that she had been a part of the year before, so the stage setup was essentially the same, as was the set list. Josh was still going to fly out over the audience trussed in his harness. The hype of the crowd was also exactly the same. That never got old. The fans were already cheering before the music ever started.
As usual, Josh was hopping around psyching himself up for his performance. As the frontman of the group, he took his prompt when the music started and walked out onto the stage waving and smiling at the crowd. Matt and Mike followed behind not long after. True to their personalities, Matt went straight to his microphone and stayed fairly stoic about the whole thing, even though the stylist and the rest of the band knew that he loved being on stage maybe even more than Josh did. Ian climbed up onto the platform where his drum kit sat and stood long enough to wave at the crowd before taking his seat. Mike walked out to the edge of the stage and gave a couple of high-fives to fans before falling back to take his place behind his microphone at Josh’s left. Brett ran on stage to deliver guitars to the boys and then joined the stylist in the wings. He stuck around long enough to see that everything was going according to plan, then disappeared backstage.
Josh stood at his microphone for several minutes, waiting for the cheering to subside before trying to scream above the crowd. Normally that wasn’t a problem, but he was starting to feel a little weak. Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to eat before the show. Maybe he shouldn’t have visited the bathroom right after. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He promised he’d try harder to stop that, but he had already broken his promise less than twenty-four hours later. Still, he had to suck it up and put on a great show for the crowd. He looked up and flashed his smile at the people in front of him, which only got more screams. He had to laugh. Even after all these years, he didn’t understand why.
After some time had passed, Josh held up his hand and loudly whispered into the microphone, “Shh…shh…Daddy’s about to speak. Now’s your time to shut the fuck up.” He loved to banter with the audience and they always seemed to love it, too.
“Hello out there! How’s everyone feeling tonight?!”
The response from the people wasn’t good enough for Josh, so he tried again. “No, no, no…you didn’t understand the question. I said… HOW THE FUCK IS EVERYONE TONIGHT?!” He screamed into the microphone after grabbing it from the stand and paced across the stage, walking from Matt to Mike. After the overwhelmingly loud response he got, he was satisfied.
“Okay, you guys. We’re Marianas Trench and we’re gonna fuckin’ rock your shit tonight!! Are you ready??” More cheers from the crowd drowned out Josh’s screaming, which was really saying something.
Josh walked back to his microphone stand and set the mic back into its place so he could play his guitar as he sang. “This first song is a little ditty you might know called “Celebrity Status”!” And with that, the band launched into the first song of the set.
The stylist watched and cheered from her spot on the side stage. She almost forgot about her pounding head, queasy stomach and dizziness. That was how amazing “her” boys were on stage. The healing power of music!
Time went on and the energy from the crowed had really hyped up the band as well. They were jumping all over the stage and playing harder than she had ever seen before. Before anyone knew it, half the set list had been played and Josh had one more song to sing before his flying act. So far, Mike, Ian and Matt had been doing a great job with their instrumentals and vocals. Josh’s vocals were on point as well, as always, but now he appeared to stagger around the stage a bit and wasn’t looking too well.
The next song was a fast-paced one and Josh was dreading it. He loved the song, but he wasn’t sure he could stand for that long anymore. He was so weak and light-headed now. Before he and the rest of the band had left the restaurant, he had visited the bathroom and forced himself to throw up everything he had just eaten. Josh had taken a small bottle of mouthwash out of his pocket and rinsed his mouth in the sink, then walked back out as if nothing was wrong. He had already broken his word to everyone and it was seriously affecting how he felt now when he needed so much energy. “…a thousand promises that never seemed to help me before, a hundred less and I would stumble ‘til I found the back door…” How ironic, he thought, while Matt and Mike sang their background vocals. He paced around on stage behind them, stumbling once and grabbing onto Mike’s shoulder before he fell over. After that, Josh clung to his microphone stand for support.
When the song was over, Josh quickly left the stage to get the cables hooked up to his harness and he had to sit down. The stylist saw him and made her way over to him back stage. “Hey,” she said kneeling beside him. “Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah…yeah…I’m okay. Gotta go,” Josh said standing and slipping his guitar back over his head. He moved into position to get ready to be hoisted up over the stage. In that one moment, Josh held his arms out to his sides to steady himself and the stylist stood to offer support.
“I…don’t…,” he started to say. The stylist slipped her arms around him helped him sit back down on the platform where he went limp in her arms. She struggled for a bit but managed to pull the guitar strap from around Josh’s body and set the instrument off to the side.
“Shit!!” she yelled. She looked around for Brett, but he was nowhere to be found. How convenient. No one could hear her yelling over the crowd and the rest of the band, who always continued to play the bridge to the next song until Josh made his entrance. The stylist had to catch the attention of the rest of the band before they simply thought that something was wrong with the flight mechanism. Despite her better judgment, she had no choice but to leave Josh’s side. She left him lying on the ground alone and she climbed up to the platform where Ian sat and put her hands on his shoulders. He looked back at her with alarm on his face. He knew she wouldn’t be standing there unless something was very wrong. He kept his drum beat steady while she leaned down and flipped up his in-ear piece to tell him what was going on with Josh. The stylist pointed down to where Josh was. He was now sitting up, but still looking worse for wear. Luckily he hadn’t been out for very long, but it was obviously still very concerning. Ian looked down at the lead singer. “What do we do?” he mouthed to the stylist.
She leaned in close to his ear again and said, “He can’t keep singing. I can’t find Brett. I don’t know what to do.”
Ian shook his head a little, looking frustrated and angry, while slowing his drum cadence to a stop. He had no choice. They had to stop the show. Mike and Matt had grown tired of playing the same melodies over and over again and were grateful for the pause, but curious as to why Ian had stopped drumming. The two of them thought perhaps it was some kind of first-show-of-the-tour prank by Josh and Ian, but when they looked back at the drummer, they noticed the stylist standing behind him.
As soon as she was certain the guitar players had seen her, she waved them in with her hands. Mike took the initiative and stepped up to his microphone. “Excuse us, folks. We seem to have misplaced our much-loved lead singer. He might be God’s gift to the universe, but sometimes we worry that when he’s left on his own, he’s off somewhere showering himself in glitter and trying to convince everyone that he’s actually straight . Talk amongst yourselves.” That gained a laugh from the crowd. It turned out that Mike was a bit of a comedian with the audience as well! It was lucky that he was able to think so quickly on his feet.
Ian and the stylist climbed down off the drum platform and were standing at Josh’s sides unhooking him from the harness when Mike and Matt rounded the stage and met up with them. “What the hell is going on?” asked Matt, sounding concerned. “Is he okay?”
The stagehands stood back and watched from a distance, unsure of what was going on. They knew enough not to put the flight mechanism into effect but didn’t know why. Brett came out of nowhere and ran up to Josh, kneeling in front of him. “Hey, you okay?”
“No,” said the stylist when Josh wouldn’t respond. Josh looked up at her hoping she wouldn’t say anything, but the truth was that he didn’t even have the energy to interrupt her, much less stand up. He couldn’t go back on stage. Not like this. “Josh just fainted.”
“He can’t keep playing. Josh needs more help than we can give him,” she said looking from Ian to Matt and over to Mike. Brett looked confused but didn’t have time to question the situation. He had to figure out a way to fix everything.
The lead singer leaned forward and put his head in his hands. What had he just done to himself? Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Not again. He felt hands under his arms lifting him up as Matt and Mike helped him off stage. As the group walked away, they head Brett speaking to the crowd. “…very sorry, but Josh is sick and can’t continue the performance. We hope you enjoyed the show, even though it was short. We’ll be back again soon. Goodnight!”
Josh could hear the disappointment of the crowd all the way back in the dressing room and it made him feel like shit. He had no one to blame but himself yet again and it hurt. He deserved that. With some help from the stylist, he had stripped out of his stage costume and harness and had put his street clothing back on again. He dropped down into the same chair that she had been sitting in earlier and tried to drink some water. It almost came right back up on him. It was then that he knew he was really fucked up, and it was then that he realized he was even further gone than he originally thought.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair. Ian, Matt and Mike had quickly changed out of their costumes as well and currently sat in chairs around the room watching Josh and waiting for some sort of explanation. The stylist finished putting the band’s clothing back into their garment bags and dropped into the closest seat she could find. She needed more aspirin and the world was all topsy-turvy again.
Brett came through the door and went straight over to Josh. “What the fuck, man? You sick?”
Josh lifted his head just enough to look at the guitar tech. “Yeah…sick.”
In the corner of the room, Ian stood. He’d been fairly quiet and complacent about this whole situation so far, but now that Josh was fainting there was real trouble. True to his word, Ian said that he would only keep Josh’s problems between the band members if nothing serious happened, but now he had to speak up. Ian took several steps into the middle of the room. All eyes were on him and Josh shook his head, mentally pleading with Ian not to tell Brett the truth. I’ll be better soon. I’ll try harder. I fucking swear to God, Ian. I do. You have to believe me. Look at me. LOOK AT ME. Please. PLEASE. Don’t say anything. Just one more chance. I just need one more fucking chance.
“Sorry, Josh, dude, but this is for your own good.” Ian seemed to read his mind. He didn’t sound very apologetic because he knew that this was for the best. “He isn’t sick, man. This guy here, he hasn’t been taking care of himself at all. There’s something going on with him that you ought to know.”
Brett looked around at the group. Mike and Matt were watching Josh’s reactions to everything and he looked completely miserable, understandably. The stylist had her hand over her eyes, but was listening the whole time. Finally Brett looked back at Josh.
“Is this true? Really? Is this fucking true?” He shoved a hand through his hair waiting for Josh’s answer.
The blond pulled his feet up onto the chair and wrapped his arms around his legs. He nodded before putting his chin onto his knees and closing his eyes.
“What are you into, Ramsay? Are you back into drugs again? Do I have to call your family and tell them that we had to cancel the tour and put you back into rehab because you fucked up again?” Now Brett was making unfair accusations.
“No,” Josh whispered.
“No?! Then what? What the fuck is going on?” Brett stood up and walked back and forth across the room several times to try to calm himself down.
As he passed by the stylist for the third time, she stuck her hand out and caught his wrist. Looking up at him made her extremely faint but she did it anyway. “Brett,” she said quietly, “chill. It’s not quite like that. Give Josh a chance to explain.” She let go of his wrist and rested her hand against her stomach.
Josh had no idea what he had done to deserve the loyalty. In two years’ time, he’d asked her to lie for him a great deal and he’d put her into some incredibly uncomfortable situations, but here she was defending him again. Jesus, he was a horrible person. He really was that fuckin’ douche everyone talked about.
Brett crossed back through the room and sat again, as did Ian. Taking a deep breath and clenching his jaw, Brett glared at Josh. “Okay, what the hell, Ramsay?” He tried to be calm, but it was a struggle. He was already pissed off, even without knowing the extent or details of what was happening in Josh’s life. Brett cared about the singer and they were close friends. It killed him to see such a talented guy causing any damage to himself.
Rather than answering him right away, Josh looked at the rest of his band. He was sunk and he knew it. He was completely fucked and it was no one’s fault but his. He didn’t blame Ian. He couldn’t. He knew, without a doubt, that it was better for people to know what was going on before he killed himself, even though he was embarrassed as hell about it. “Okay…well…I guess it’s just easier to say it, right? You know how I had all of those issues ten years ago, yes?”
Brett nodded. His patience was worn extremely thin.
“Well, surprise. The bulimia is back with a vengeance.” Josh made a “jazz hands” motion to try to joke his way out of the situation, even though he knew damn well how serious it really was.
“Well, fuck, Josh. You know what this means! What the hell happened?” Brett stood again and paced a bit more before returning once again to his seat. He couldn’t sit still. He didn’t even want to be in the same room with Josh at the moment. He felt like an angry parent who couldn’t stand to look at his kid because his kid had fucked up so royally.
For the third time in two days, Josh re-told the story of what brought his past back into his life. He also explained why his stylist looked like death as well. At first, Brett was ready to call the police for battery, but once it was clarified further, everyone, even Brett, had sympathy for him, but it was a deeply severe matter that couldn’t be ignored. It had to be dealt with and it had to be done now.
Josh sighed, knowing that he had let everyone down, including himself. He hated the fact that he was going through all of this all over again. This time, it wasn’t just his small-time, unsigned band that was getting affected. This time around, people were losing money because of him. People were going to be angry at him, not just disappointed in him. He fucked up in a major way and he was so, so fucking sorry. He lightly moved his hand over his left wrist, feeling the soft lines of faded scars he had left behind last year. He broke his promise to tell people if he ever started to relapse when it happened. He broke his promise to stay healthy. Why couldn’t he break the promise he made last year, too? He was already so far gone that it didn’t matter. It just didn’t fucking matter. After all of sixty seconds of thinking about it, he decided to break it.
Pushing himself up and out of the seat in the dressing room, he crossed the floor and simply walked out without making eye contact or saying a word to anyone. Josh took the back hallways through the venue to avoid being spotted by any fans that may have still been lingering in the building and waiting for autographs until he reached the door to the outside. Pushing it open slightly, he peeked around to make sure there was no one there and he ran for the bus. He couldn’t take any chances. He had to be by himself for this. He didn’t have any more choices. This was bottom-of-the-barrel bad.
Stepping up onto the bus, he closed the door behind him. Josh checked to ensure he was completely alone. He also checked the windows to confirm that no one had followed him. Methodically, he opened cabinet doors and cupboards as well as searching through the bathroom, the rear lounge and his own personal things until he found what he was looking for. It wasn’t something he’d typically use, but it would make due in a pinch. It would have to.
Picking up the drinking glass with the picture of Mickey Mouse on it that he had purchased as a present for someone back home somewhere in his travels, he slammed it down in the sink, shattering it into shards while covering his eyes with his free hand. The glass broke against his palm, slicing deep lines and causing him to cringe and hiss through his teeth at the familiar pain. Josh was so, so tired of this, but he couldn’t stop it this time. Logically, he knew it was a bad move, but mentally…oh, mentally…there was just no way in hell he was able to resist this. Not this time. He was too far gone now and he knew it.
Josh watched as his left hand bled easily from the deepest gash in his skin. That would need sutures, for sure. He wasn’t even sure he could close his hand enough to wrap it around the neck of his guitars. He smiled with some slight satisfaction. It was strangely comforting and almost sickly entertaining, this feeling. The more damage he did to his body, the better he felt. His head was starting to steady and he could think with a little bit of clarity now, yet he hadn’t even done anything more than smash a glass. This could have been deemed an accident, he thought as he stared at the blood dripping down the sides of his hand. No, he had to do something on purpose. He had to cause more pain for himself.
Was it just the day before that the stylist was warning him not to put his fist through a window over his first fight with Matt? He couldn’t remember. It seemed so long ago. The stylist…he was letting her down. He was letting everyone down. Josh didn’t give a fuck anymore. He couldn’t. He held his cupped hand over the sink and watched the blood pool in the center. He dipped a finger from his dominant hand into the center of the puddle and lifted it to his mouth. Slightly metallic, just as he had remembered.
Josh turned his arm over and drained the blood from his hand before grabbing the largest shard of glass from the bottom of the sink. Mickey’s eyes stared up at him. “This one’s for us, mouse,” Josh murmured out loud. He sunk to the floor with his back against the cabinets and closed his eyes. His hand shook, but he dug the glass deep into his wrist until he could feel skin tearing from skin. In his head, it sounded like a cross between tearing a sheet of fabric and tearing a sheet of paper, but with more wet, sticky friction. More satisfaction. Josh smiled to himself again as he felt the warm, thick blood flow from his arm.
He opened his eyes to see that he had created a large jagged gash over many, many thin, faded scars from years past. Those small wounds just wouldn’t do it anymore. He needed more. He needed to damage his body in the way that he felt was necessary…in the way that he felt he deserved.
Poising the blood covered, slippery broken piece of glass over his arm once more, Josh pushed it strongly against a free space on his forearm until blood once again welled up. He grimaced and gritted his teeth, gasping once or twice and his eyes had automatically started to tear from the burning pain he continued to cause. “Fuck…Jesus…fuck! Fuck!” His hand was shaking even more the harder he pushed.
By now, Josh had lost quite a lot of blood, as was evident by the streaks left in the sink, down the front of the cabinet doors and small puddles pooling around his body and seeping into his clothing. He couldn’t stop yet. Just one more time. Just…one…more…ti-…
Ten minutes later, the band had given up searching for Josh inside the venue, so they decided to check the bus. Mike was the first one inside and found Josh slumped over, sitting on the floor in front of the kitchen sink. His legs were stretched out in front of him and his head was drooped, his chin resting on his chest. His hand lay open on his thigh, but a bloody…something…was on the floor beside the singer.
It took Mike a minute to process the situation before yelling to the others behind him to call for an ambulance. Fuck, he hoped it wasn’t too late. Ian and Matt had come up the stairs before the stylist and had gotten to see the wreckage of Josh’s body first. Ian tried his best to keep her from being able to see the scene while Matt fumbled for his cell phone to call for help. The stylist refused to let herself be shielded from whatever was happening inside the bus and she raced up the stairs, stepping over a kneeling Mike until she reached Josh’s other side. Ignoring her own headache and problems, she also dropped to her knees. In that moment, she wished she could say that she was surprised by Josh’s actions, but in all fairness, she wasn’t.
“Josh!” she yelled. “Can you hear me?” No response. “JOSH! Listen to me. If you can hear me, open your eyes. You fucking let us know you’re alive.” She grabbed for his wrist and found a pulse, although it was weak. When she took his hand, she could see him flutter his eyelashes a little.
“Can you hear me??” The singer nodded so slightly that anyone not right next to Josh would have missed it. “Mmm…,” he murmured quietly.
Mike grabbed the piece of glass Josh had used to dig into his body and tossed it over his head and into the sink and wiped his hand, now covered in Josh’s blood, onto the knee of his pants. The piece of glass jingled when it hit the shattered remains of what was left there. Blood still oozed from Josh’s arm, although it had started to slow by now. Mike stuck his hand up onto the counter and grabbed for anything he could find to wrap around the singer’s arm. He reached a roll of paper towels and started tearing off long sheets at a time while handing them over to the stylist. She had dragged Josh’s arm across her lap and pushed the paper towels to the wounds while pressing her hand against it.
“Josh, stay with us here. Can you hear me?” Ian, even with his blood phobia, had stepped up to Josh’s feet, kneeled and tapped his shoes. “Come on, man…let us know you’re okay.” He continued to speak to the younger man, doing his best to keep Josh conscious.
Josh nodded again slightly but found that it took too much energy to open his eyes. He was so tired. And he was cold. He didn’t realize he was shivering until he heard Mike tell someone to go get something, anything, to cover Josh with. A warm blanket was tucked around his body seconds later, but he was still so cold. People continued to speak to him, but all he could do was nod. He wished everyone would leave him alone. They shouldn’t have found him. He had tried so hard but this was one more thing he had fucked up. Again. But…maybe he was just being irrational? That wasn’t what he really wanted, was it?
What seemed like hours later, Josh felt himself being lifted up and then he was on his back. The paramedics had shown up and had bandaged up his arm enough to transport him to the hospital. All he wanted to do was sleep.
When Josh woke, he tried to open his eyes and instantly squinted against the harsh white light of the room. He had no idea where he was and that scared the shit out of him. He hadn’t had that feeling in a very long time and the difference was, back then, it was because he had been an addict and would have long episodes of blacking out. He knew he wasn’t using that shit now, so why the hell was he here? It wasn’t until he tried to push himself into a sitting position that sharp pain radiated through his right hand and arm and he flashed back to everything that had happened. The fainting, the canceled show, the broken glass in the sink, the blood… Fuck, the blood… He wondered who had to clean up after him. Josh dropped back against the pillows and rested his arm across his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Josh was just starting to work himself into a full-blown panic attack when the door of his private room opened and his three band members walked in. He lowered his arm and looked around at them. Each man had a different expression on his face. Mike looked concerned while Ian looked disappointed. Josh couldn’t tell what Matt was thinking, but just knowing him for so long made Josh believe that Matt was angry and disappointed among other things. Josh didn’t blame any of them. The three of them stood and stared at Josh. As sick of being judged as he was, he had now completely given up caring and just let them stare at him. He knew he was a mess. Who didn’t like to gawk at a train wreck?
One person he didn’t see when he looked around was his stylist. Immediately he panicked again for the second time in ten minutes. “How…where…?” His throat was so dry that it hurt.
Ian handed a bottle of water to Josh and waited until he had taken a few sips before answering. “She’s alright, man…she’s fine,” Ian said, referring to the stylist. “They have her filling out some paperwork and getting some medications. She’s got a concussion just like she thought, but she’s okay.” He liked that Josh’s first real thought was of her.
“You look awful,” Mike said, stepping up to the side of Josh’s bed.
“Thanks,” Josh rasped. “At least I look the way I feel.” It was true. He felt horrible. His entire body ached and he was exhausted in every sense of the word. He raised his arm and stared at the bandages for a bit before running his finger over the tape holding the gauze together.
Mike sat on the edge of Josh’s bed and watched as Josh fingered the bandage. Mike’s gaze was too intense for Josh to meet. He finally saw realization in the singer’s face as he grasped exactly how bad the situation was and how it could have ended.
Josh closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered once again. It felt like he spent his entire life apologizing for one thing or another, and it was always something he had done to himself. He was tired of disappointing people. He was tired of feeling sorry for his actions and his feelings. If only he could break the cycle…
A sudden thought hit him and he sat up again. “Brett?” Josh asked quietly.
“Umm…,” Matt started, scuffing his shoe on the floor, “he wouldn’t come.” Matt stared at the toe of his boot because he couldn’t stand to see his friend’s reaction to the news. “He was really angry.” Jesus, it killed him to have to admit that to Josh. Even though Matt and the rest of the band were angry at Josh as well, they promised each other that they’d always be there for one another and if that meant sitting in Josh’s hospital room after he carved up his body, so be it. They stayed the fuck together.
Josh sunk back against his pillows. His mind felt like a minefield trying to kill him. Brett was a good friend of his and if he wouldn’t come, Josh knew he must have fucked up even worse than he thought. He never figured that doing this to himself would burn bridges with the people he cared most about. He’d apparently never been so wrong before.
There was a quick knock on the door and the stylist walked in carrying her messenger bag, a sweatshirt and a small white paper bag that rattled as if it contained some pills. She smiled at Josh, glad to see that he was awake. “You look like shit, Ramsay.” Never one to mince words, she gave him the most honest truth she could, just like she had hours ago when they were sitting knee-to-knee on the bathroom floor. He had to smile back at her for that.
The second the door closed behind her, she dropped everything she was carrying and walked up to the bed. Stepping around Mike, she leaned down and slid her arms around Josh. It was somewhat unexpected but the stylist was glad to see him not only awake, but alive and she just had to hug him. She had to feel him breathe. She had to wrap her arms around his warm body, even for just a moment. Keeping his bandaged arm at his side, he hugged her with his free one. When she finally pulled away, she stood straight and crossed her arms. Her thoughts had quickly shifted and now that she knew he was okay, she was angry too. She glared at Josh and spoke. “You fucking idiot.”
That caught Mike’s attention and he slowly slid off the bed and stepped over to where Matt and Ian waited on the other side of the room. He wanted to give the stylist space to speak her piece. The three men looked at each other, not quite knowing what to expect from there.
Josh’s happiness to see the stylist was short-lived. He deserved what she said to him, but still, it hurt. He slid down into the bed a bit further and slowly moved his injured arm under the blankets to hide it from view. He tried to joke his way out of being hurt by her comment. “Be nice to me. I’m in the hospital.”
“Cut the shit, Josh. You know why you’re here, don’t you? You remember several hours ago?” she countered, sounding angrier.
“Yeah…” He looked to Ian for support, but Ian was the one who brought all of this up to Brett in the first place, making Ian the reason Josh was currently sitting in a hospital bed. No, that wasn’t fair, but it was how Josh felt for the moment. Matt was already angry at him. Mike? This time it was Mike who wouldn’t meet Josh’s eyes. He had no one on his side here and he couldn’t blame any of them for that either. He truly was alone. That made him feel even worse than this whole situation did from the start.
Josh felt the familiar prickling of tears behind his eyes and he reached up to pull his bangs down to block his view. Suddenly there was a hand grabbing his wrist and pulling his arm away. “No. No hiding.” The stylist let go of his wrist and brushed his hair back. “You did this and you have to deal with it. I know it’s not pleasant, but neither is seeing you like this.”
Tears streamed down his cheeks now. He was embarrassed, frustrated, scared, hurt, worried and guilty, but he couldn’t say a fucking thing to protest because he had only himself to blame. Josh quickly brushed his hand across his face, but it only helped for the moment. The tears wouldn’t stop. Fuck, he hated crying and he hated doing it in front of others.
The three men standing in the room averted their eyes to look at anything else. It was uncomfortable to see their sassy, stubborn, funny, talented lead singer feeling this way. It hurt them, especially Matt.
Matt anxiously cleared his throat. “I’m…uh…I’m gonna go find coffee.”
Mike nodded. “Us too.” Any excuse to leave the room was more than welcome.
“Either of you want anything?” Ian asked, deciding to join Mike and Matt.
The stylist shook her head and Josh wouldn’t answer. Matt took the lead and walked out without another word, followed closely by Mike and Ian.
Pushing the only chair in the room closer to the bed, the stylist dropped down into it and watched Josh for a minute. There was that staring that he fucking hated so much. He waited for her to say something. He could sense the questions forming in her mind.
Josh watched as she leaned forward and put the heel of her hand up to her forehead, closing her fingers and catching some of her hair in her grip. He listened as she took a deep, shuddering breath. After the second breath, he realized she was now the one crying. Josh’s own tears had subsided, but he didn’t know what to do in this situation. The stylist was so angry at him. Or maybe she was disappointed. Both? Very tentatively, he reached a hand out and touched her shoulder. She refused to look up at him yet. She couldn’t. Not until she felt a bit calmer and a bit steadier.
“How could you?” she asked for the first time since coming into the room. “How the fuck could you? You promised. You promised me you wouldn’t do this again. Don’t you remember?” Finally she raised her gaze to Josh. Her eyes were red and glistening and her makeup was streaked down her cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to make that pained look in her eyes go away, but he couldn’t. It made him feel that much worse to know that he was the one who caused it. She shrugged and brushed his hand away from her shoulder just as she had done in the hotel room the year before when he had tried to speak to her and she was just too upset to want to hear it.
“You can’t charm your way out of this, Josh. That’s not how it works.” Grabbing a couple of tissues from the box on the table next to the bed, she dabbed at her eyes.
“I wasn’t gonna try,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.” He pulled his bandaged arm out from under the blankets and ran his fingers over the gauze again. It had kind of a soothing texture.
“For what?” the stylist asked.
The question caught Josh off guard because it seemed obvious. He was lying there in a hospital bed after nearly killing himself in two different ways and she actually asked why he was apologizing. He gestured to his arm. “For this. For all of this. I’m sorry.”
“Bullshit,” she said.
“What?”
“You heard me. Bullshit. You aren’t sorry. You’re only sorry you were caught.”
She had called that right, Josh thought. But the more thought he gave it, the more he realized that that way of thinking was wrong. “You’re right…but only sort of.”
“Keep talking,” the stylist encouraged Josh.
“Everything was so fucking bad for me,” he continued. “The bulimia coming back after so long, letting everyone down, the whole damn thing. I got to thinking that I just deserved everything all over again. The pain, the self-harm, the destruction of my body…all of it. I just couldn’t fucking handle it anymore. So I figured that I had disappointed enough people and no one would care if I broke another promise. I just…couldn’t stop. I’m sorry I broke my promise to you.” He shifted in the bed to get a little more comfortable.
“This isn’t about me. This was NEVER about me. The only reason I had you promise me those things was for you. I did it because I care about you. We all care about you. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. No more.” Her breath caught in her chest and she let out a quiet sob before ducking her head and covering her face with her hands. “I can’t keep watching you do this, Josh. I just can’t.”
Josh shoved the blankets off of his body and down to the end of the bed. He swung his legs over the side before pushing himself to stand. He waited until he was steadier on his feet before he walked over to the door and put his hand on the handle. “I fucking said I was sorry. You can leave any time so you don’t have to watch me slowly kill myself. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.” Everyone had always spoken to Josh in a way that guilt-tripped him whenever he got himself into a situation like this. Somehow it was always about them, never about him. He knew he was being unreasonable, because he knew his stylist never meant for this to be about herself. But something in him snapped and now it was his turn to get upset. All of those negative feelings had turned into one giant ball of anger in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t stop it any longer. He was tired of trying.
She looked over at him with wide eyes. Standing, she pushed the chair back against the wall and walked over to Josh slowly. She lightly put her hand against the center of his chest and forced him back against the wall as gently as she could. Not only did she have something to say to him, but she wanted his full attention. “Ramsay, you don’t get it,” the stylist said looking up into his eyes. He knew she was either incredibly serious or just screwing with him when she called him by his last name. This time, there was no sparkle in her eyes. She wasn’t joking. “I’m not going to leave. Not willingly. If you fire me, that’s one thing. But like it or not, we’re friends now. At least, I think we’ve been through enough over this last year or so to consider us friends, wouldn’t you?” He nodded slightly. “Well, let me tell you something. I don’t walk away from friends. Not now, not ever. Especially not when walking away would be one of the worst possible things I could ever do. So I’m telling you right now…I care about you enough to stick around. The thing is, I refuse to just sit back and allow you to continue to hurt yourself. I care about you way, way too much for that. I hope you choose to believe that, because I don’t know how to tell you that in any other way.” The stylist slid her hand down his side to his hip, and then stuffed her hands into her pockets and took a step back. “All I can do is show you.”
Quietly, she spoke one more time. “Josh, stop running. Just…stop running from everything. Please.”
He blinked quickly a couple of times. “Do you know how long it’s been…? I can’t. I just…I’ve been running from myself since I was about twelve. What if I can’t stop?”
“That’s what we’re here for. Don’t you get it yet?” The stylist reached for Josh’s bandaged arm and held his hand while raising his arm up to use as a visual. “Stop doing this to yourself. Stop taking everything out on yourself. Come to us. We’ll help you. You don’t need to ever, ever do this to yourself again. Just stop running…” She let his hand go and he dropped his arm to his side again.
“What if I can’t?” He sounded so lost and so scared.
“Then take it out on me,” she offered.
“You want me to do this to you?” he asked, sounding shocked.
“No. Jesus, for a man who’s so brilliant at writing metaphorically, you’re just not getting it. What’s that song Matt put on his album…?” She closed her eyes for a moment to think before the melody and words came to mind. She quietly sang the lyrics to him, “…you can take it out on me, you can give me a scar, don’t run away…” Looking up again at him, she said, “I’d rather you take this the fuck out on me than ever do this to yourself again. Yell at me, scream at me, rant, vent, rage, whatever it takes. But do it to me instead of yourself.”
He swallowed forcibly and looked into her eyes. “I’ll try,” Josh whispered.
“No.” The stylist shook her head.
“No?”
“Not good enough.” She took another step back and sat on the foot of the bed. “You promise me entirely or you don’t promise at all.”
“But…what…if…I…can’t?” Josh asked slowly, for the third time, pleading with her now. He had already fucked up more than once. What if it happened again? There were only so many times he could do this before no one wanted to deal with him anymore. He knew that. Brett was his most recent proof.
“Darlin’, you’re human.” She offered that as her answer but he still looked confused, so she continued on. “If it happens again, I’ll be here for you in just the same way that I am now. But I really don’t want you to be in this situation anymore. One of these days…”
That phrase, “one of these days” made Josh cringe. He was so afraid she would repeat exactly what he was scared of hearing. Instead, she went on to say, “…you may really do some serious damage to your body. What would you do if you sliced yourself up so badly that you couldn’t play the guitar anymore? Or the piano? You could still sing, sure, but I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you have a guitar in your hands. You’re on top of the world. You don’t wanna lose that, do you?” The stylist watched as Josh squirmed a little uneasily at the idea of never being able to perform again in the way that he enjoyed so much. “What if you let an eating disorder get so out of hand that you let it kill you? Is that really what you want? Truly?”
Josh shook his head and ran his good hand through his hair. “No, I don’t.” He stepped around the stylist and over to the bed before climbing and pulling the blankets up to his chin. “I can’t talk about his anymore. I don’t wanna think about it. I’m so fucking tired of getting sick about it.” He turned his head away from the stylist and stared at the wall. This was just another one of his perfect disasters.
She stood up and moved away from the foot of the bed to give him space. “Fine, but before you completely shut me out for now…” Josh sighed but wanted to hear her out anyway. “You may hate me for this, but the rest of the band and I, we’re gonna be telling your doctors about the bulimia as well. The guys may have done it by now, I don’t know. But I wanted to be up front with you about that. As long as you’re already here, you might as well get help for everything. No one wants to lose you.”
He shook his head slightly and closed his eyes after turning off the light over the bed, which left a dull glow from a second light across the room. Josh pulled the blankets up over his head, muffling his voice. “Whatever…I don’t care anymore. I don’t fucking care anymore…”
“I’m sorry it had to come to this, but I’m not sorry that we’re finally getting you the help you need. We never should have lied for you last year. We never should have hidden this. Maybe things would be different now. I’m sorry for not doing better by you back then.” From under his blankets, he could hear her move around and it sounded as if she was gathering the things she had dropped to the floor earlier. Good. He needed to be alone again. This time it was just to think, he silently promised himself. Before she left, the stylist turned around and looked at the lump under the covers. “One more thing,” she said quietly. “I’m also sorry I didn’t pay closer attention to what you said when you first told me about this. I remember your words. “I’m done.” I should have listened more closely. I’m sorry…” Then Josh heard the door open and then she was gone. He was alone.
Josh tried to turn all of the events over in his mind, but he kept coming back to everything the stylist had said. She couldn’t continue to watch him destroy his body. She couldn’t watch him hurt himself again. She didn’t want him to harm himself in any way anymore. She didn’t want to lose him. “No, no, no, no, NO. FUCKING SHIT. NO.” Josh mumbled to himself angrily. He couldn’t promise anyone anything. He was a fuck-up. He had done this too many times to even trust himself. He didn’t know why anyone else would be willing to trust his promises. He should have told her that he couldn’t promise because no one should ever trust anything he says. He tried so hard to be everything for everyone for so long and this is where it got him. He just couldn’t make that promise, even though he knew he would make a better liar.
Somewhere between considering making the stylist the promise she wanted and mentally yelling at himself for even thinking about it, he dozed off a bit, buried under the blankets. His breathing was frantic and his heart raced as he fought himself in his dreams. His subconscious continually tried to tear him apart in every possible way and he couldn’t get away from the sinking feeling that it would eventually kill him. It made Josh panic until he woke up gasping and he flung the blankets down away from his face so he could breathe more easily. He wouldn’t be sleeping again tonight.
In the hallway, the stylist met up with the rest of the band. They were all sitting in chairs outside his room and holding Styrofoam cups of coffee. Matt was swallowing what was left of a muffin he had grabbed from the cafeteria. She tossed her things into an empty chair before sitting and joining the boys. She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. An arm went around her shoulders as Mike pulled her against him for a quick hug. Letting go, he gave her a half-smile. “We’re sorry for leaving you in there with him alone. I hope he didn’t give you too much crap.”
The stylist shook her head. “No…in fact, I gave him way more than he gave me. I don’t know…I guess I just sorta snapped. We all care a lot about him, of course, but I’m so tired of seeing Josh like this already. And I’ve only been with you guys for a little over a year. Has he always been this way? I mean, I know he was as a teenager, but have you ever seen him do this kinda thing in the time you’ve been together as a band?” She looked up at the rest of the men.
Matt spoke up first, shaking his head. “I can’t say I’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary since we were kids. At least, not until last year, but you were there for that. That really came out of the blue. I don’t think any of us expected that.” Mike and Ian shook their heads in agreement.
“I never suspected anything prior to last year,” Ian said, crossing his ankle over his knee and lacing his fingers together. “With Josh, you just never know, though. He’s kind of a wildcard. You don’t really expect him to fall, you know? But I feel like he tries so hard to be ‘on’ all the time that I was almost waiting for him to burn out. I just never thought it would be like this. And not over an opinion of some faceless, nameless fans, not that you can even call them that anymore after this. It just sucks that you and Matt were both pulled into that, too.” Ian was referring to Matt’s blackened eyes from the fight just two days prior as well as the stylist’s accidental head injury.
The stylist shook her head. “I just can’t believe he cracked like this after such a long time.” She aimed her statement at Matt, but he didn’t seem to notice. He was busy staring at the door to Josh’s room.
“You left him in there alone?” he questioned her.
“Yeah, but he was gonna slee-…shit!” She jumped to her feet leaving all of her things in the chair beside her. The three men were at her side in an instant. Mike was at the door first and shoved it open.
The second his hand was on the door, he dreaded what they might find when they walked in and his heart started to pound against his ribcage. Mike momentarily flashed back to find Josh sitting in a pool of his own blood on the tour bus just several short hours ago.
Much to his relief, as well as everyone else’s, Josh was still in bed, but was on his back staring at the ceiling. His previous sleep had lasted only minutes before he had woken up. He jumped when the four of them came crashing through the door. Pushing himself into a sitting position once again, he glared at them with eyes that had turned from his usual ice-blue to a much darker and angrier shade. “The fuck, you guys?? Are you trying to finish me off with a heart attack as long as I’m here?”
“Too soon, dude…,” Matt said, signifying that he wasn’t in the mood to be joking about Josh’s health.
“Well, you guys fucking scared the shit outta me. What do you expect?”
“Sorry, man, we didn’t mean to scare you. We just realized that we’d left you alone…,” Matt tried explaining.
Josh cut him off by saying, “and you all thought you’d better come racing the fuck in here just to make sure I hadn’t hung myself with my blankets or something?” He rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw.
“Knock it off,” the stylist said.
Josh may have been extremely pissed off for a multitude of reasons but he still respected that she always knew when and how to call him out.
“We were concerned about you and we didn’t want you to think we had abandoned you here or something.” Ian planted himself in the chair and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“I can barely get you guys to leave me the hell alone for five minutes. Why would I ever think you abandoned me?” Josh fell back against his pillows, wearing his best little girl pout.
“Dude, there’s a reason why we won’t leave you alone for long and the reason you’re in here now is exactly why!” Matt stepped up to the bed. It was the first time Matt had spoken up in anger since he made the accusation and pointed out Josh’s rapidly thinning body on the bus.
“Okay, okay…everybody chill,” said Ian, the voice of reason. “Today has been,” he glanced over at Josh, “a very trying day. Everyone’s exhausted, Josh is hurt and angry and everyone’s got their tempers set on high. Just take it easy, you guys. We all need to calm down.” He leaned back in the seat and looked at every face in the room, waiting and hoping for agreement from the group.
Mike finally nodded. “He’s right. I think we all need a little breather from each other. Maybe Ian and I should go back to the bus and…um…,” he didn’t want to continue his sentence because he didn’t want to spark another outburst from Josh, but he spoke anyway, “you know…clean up the mess. I told Brett to leave it and that we’d deal with it when we got back.”
Josh rolled his eyes a second time and leaned his head back so that he was staring at the ceiling tiles again. He just didn’t have the energy to fight. He didn’t have the energy for anything. He just wanted to be left alone in his misery with his thoughts, although that’s what got him here in the first place. The stylist warned him right away that he would probably hate her and the rest of the band for trying to do what was right for him, but he never realized she would be so right so soon. No, that’s not quite true. He didn’t hate them. He was just incredibly irritated at everyone, especially himself. “I’m sorry,” Josh said for what felt like the millionth time that week alone.
“Nah, man…don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again,” Ian said standing and crossing the room to the door. “Remember, we don’t wanna lose you.” He was the second person to say that to Josh in under an hour.
“I’ll walk you guys out,” the stylist said joining Mike and Ian at the door. “I have to get my stuff out of the hallway anyway.” She turned back to Josh and said, “I’ll be back in a bit, okay?” He nodded and half-heartedly gave her a gesture that was either a wave or he was flipping her off. She couldn’t tell due to his apathy. Mike opened the door and ushered the two of them out before following closely behind.
Once the door was shut, it left Matt and Josh alone in the room together. Josh had turned on his light again so that they weren’t sitting together in the dark. Matt took the seat Ian had been sitting in moments prior and scooted the chair a little closer to the bed. He stuck his feet up onto the edge of the bed and crossed his legs at the ankles. This gesture annoyed Josh, but he didn’t say a word. Matt still hadn’t said much and the action seemed way too calm for the way he must have been feeling. Josh kept waiting for Matt to speak, to get angry, to hit him again…something, anything. He knew the guitarist was as pissed off as he could be and being alone together in the room afforded Matt any opportunity he wanted to really tear into Josh.
Matt simply laced his fingers together, laid his hands across his stomach and stared at Josh. He waited for his friend to remember something from their pasts. Matt wasn’t cold or heartless. He had a reason for acting the way he was. Two minutes went by…three…four…five. He watched Josh fidget and squirm in the silence.
Eventually Josh got frustrated. “Fucking hell, Matt! Say anything!” Matt smirked and kept silent. He raised his eyebrows at the singer.
Slowly, very slowly Matt saw recognition in Josh’s eyes. A grin took the place of the scowl that had been there seconds before. Josh broke out in a laugh, which caused Matt to laugh as well. This movement that Matt had made simply by sitting and putting his feet up on the bed was exactly, motion for motion, how he had greeted Josh on his very first visit when Josh was sent to the rehab and treatment facility back when he was seventeen. Josh had been annoyed at it then as well, but only because it had jostled the bed and made him unnecessarily nauseous when he was already sick thanks to withdrawals. Matt had said it served him right.
“Fuck off,” Josh said, still grinning at the guitar player.
Matt smirked back. “You first, douchebag.”
Suddenly they were teenagers again, trading “your mom” jokes and insults and laughing about some of the good times they had back then.
Josh laughed. “Dude, do you remember that time in band when you had that trombone solo and you completely blanked out during the concert so you started playing “Mary Had a Little Lamb” even though the fucking music was right in front of you?”
Matt ducked his head and laughed at the memory. There he was, a naïve fifteen year old kid dressed all in black and white for the big yearly concert, sitting in the first chair in his section with his second-hand trombone given to him by his grandfather clutched in his hands. He had practiced his solo until he could play it with his eyes closed. Prior to his solo, he had numerous measures of rest so all he had to do was wait until it was his time to play. He stared at the conductor eagerly until she pointed at him. It was go time! Fuck, no! He couldn’t remember the song and he had lost his place. He never switched the music over from the last song! Shit, shit, shit! In a panicked, last ditch effort, he decided to play something. Anything was better than dead, unintentional silence. He unenthusiastically and extremely embarrassingly blew out the notes for the children’s song then laid his trombone across his lap while the rest of the band went on to finish the piece. Matt remembered seeing Josh laughing at him out of the corner of his eye. Matt didn’t know it then, but Josh had admired his moxie. Josh had always been of the mindset that if you didn’t know what you were doing, you faked the fuck out of it and hoped for the best. That’s exactly what Matt had done. He had turned a disaster into a story that the two of them were still talking about a decade later.
“Dude, you still do that shit on stage,” Josh said, still laughing at Matt.
“I do not!” Matt swung his legs down off the bed and sat up, chuckling along with Josh once again.
“Do you remember that concert we played somewhere in the States...New York, I think? I was belting my little black heart out on “All to Myself” and I fucked up the words so you started playing that stupid kids’ song just to screw with me.” Matt smiled as wide as he could. It was true. It had sort of become a running joke between the boys. Josh then had to stop the show, turn to the audience and, through his laughter, explain what had happened, letting the rest of the confused group standing in front of him in on their little inside joke. Everyone laughed, loving that Josh had let them all be privy to an inside joke between the long-time friends, but it would never be as funny to anyone else as it was to Josh and Matt.
“The best part about that was that the words you had forgotten were, “I’ll try and suck it up, I just can’t fuck it up…” I mean, how ironic is that?”
Matt ran his hand through his hair and leaned back against the chair, the smile on his face slowly fading. “Shit, Josh…”
Oh, so it was back to serious now. This was what Josh had been waiting for. “Yeah…shit.”
“What’s up with all of this, man? You and I go so far back. Why did you hide this?”
The thin blond man sighed and shrugged. “I dunno…”
“Don’t give me that,” Matt said. He was done with evasive, vague Josh. He wanted some answers. “I know you too well and I’ve known you for too long. We’ve seen each other numerous times during the hiatus between tours. Why did you never let on? Why didn’t you tell me? And how was it that I never noticed?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the stylist peek through the glass window in the door. Mike and Ian were gone, but she chose to stay behind. You can’t beat that kind of loyalty. Matt waited until Josh wasn’t paying attention and subtly waved her off. He was finally getting his chance to talk to Josh alone and he didn’t wanna blow it. He finally had Josh talking, and he wanted his own time with one of his best friends. Luckily she understood. She waved back and disappeared from sight.
“Josh?” Matt tried again to get his attention. “Talk to me, man.”
“It just all got to be too much. Everything. Dude, you’ve known me since I was sixteen. Have I ever been…I dunno…have I ever been happy? I mean, has there ever been a time when my mind wasn’t racing or I was just…normal?”
Josh shifted in the bed to sit up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed so he was facing Matt. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how anyone looked at it, the hospital workers had let Josh stay in his own clothing rather than putting him in a gown, or Matt would have gotten more of a view of his friend than he ever wanted to see. The down side is that Josh was still wearing his blood-stained clothes.
Matt spent several long seconds looking Josh over and trying to come up with a suitable answer. “Normal? No,” he finally said. “But what the fuck is “normal” anyway? Look at the lives we lead. That’s not normal. It’s not what typical people do. But you…no, you’re definitely not normal.” Matt smiled. “With that said, though, you’re also a genius. And according to millions of chicks of all ages out there, you’re also the most gorgeous thing ever next to…well…me.” Matt popped the collar on his jacket for effect and smiled wider.
That made Josh laugh again. “Fuck you, man…just fuck you.”
“Ha! In all seriousness, if you weren’t who you are, I don’t think any of us would be where we are. Everything you’ve been through…it’s really made a difference. It’s not like you went through all of that shit in the past for nothing, you know? I know it sucked, but I was right there. I saw you dealing with that. And I’m right here now. Again, this might not be what most people do, but you’ve never done anything by the book. You like to push the envelope.” He paused to shrug his shoulders. “I like to push it and push it until my luck is over…,” Matt sang Josh’s own words to him. “The fact of the matter is that you’ve always just been Josh Ramsay -tall lanky douchebag, musical genius, brilliant lyricist, good friend. I just wish…” Matt stopped himself before he said too much.
“Just wish what?” Josh questioned him. Matt was telling Josh things that he had never heard from his friend before. It made him want to hear more. Not because it stroked his ego, but because Matt was generally a very quiet guy who never spoke much of his feelings and, as strange as this conversation between the two of them might have been, it felt like one they needed to have.
“I guess I just wish you’d stop shutting me out.” Matt stood and strode across the room to look out the window. It had gotten foggy over the last few hours and now dark clouds were covering the moon. He couldn’t see anything but the reflection of the singer and himself in the window. Josh looked almost sad, but Matt couldn’t be sure of that.
“I’m sorry,” Josh apologized. He slid off the bed easily and walked over to where Matt stood. He kept back about a step and met Matt’s eyes in the reflection of the glass.
“I know you are. But I also wish you’d stop saying that. I know you mean it, but it’s not a solution. You can’t just make things better with an apology. You can’t fix what you’ve done to your body just by telling everyone you’re fucking sorry.” Matt turned around and shoved his hands into his pockets before leaning back against the long radiator that stood in front of the window. It was warm against his back and it felt good. “You can’t keep doing this and then apologizing your way out of it.”
“I know.” And he did know. People continually drilled that into him for his entire life. Josh opened and closed his bandaged hand as best as he could with the gauze still wrapped around it. It stung like a bitch and he gritted his teeth. The pain was a constant reminder that he had fucked up so much lately. “And I…”
“If you say you’re sorry again, I’ll beat the living shit out of you,” Matt said smirking, both of them knowing that he’d never really do it.
A smile tugged at Josh’s mouth. “I’d deserve it. But what I wanted to tell you is that...I guess…it’s not that I’m not trying to shut you out personally, you know? It’s just that I’d rather not drag anyone into my shitty problems. It’s one thing when I’m on stage or doing interviews or whatever and people ask personal questions or I have to tell some story to an audience. I can pick and choose what I want them to know. I can choose what I want them to see in me. I can fake some sarcastic answer and pass it off as me being a bitch if I want to.” Josh took a few steps back and sat back down on the bed. “Hell, I can be anyone I wanna be. I can make shit up like nothing else.” Matt knew. He’d seen Josh do it too many times to count over the years. “But when it’s real and it’s in front of someone that actually knows me, it gets…scary, I guess. And embarrassing. And it’s just shit I’d rather keep for myself. I don’t want people I care about to be involved because logically, I know I’m fucking up. I’m aware. But I can’t stop it. And by that point, I don’t want anyone to see that. I just can’t do it. So I do my best to keep it from everyone until I can work through it by myself.” Josh wasn’t explaining himself in exactly the way he wanted to. Strangely enough, the words he wanted were out of reach and he just couldn’t force them to the surface this time. He always had trouble talking personally about himself, but he was trying. This time, he wasn’t all mirrors and lights and smoke. This time, he was trying to be the most honest he’d ever been with Matt about his situation. It was fucking terrifying.
Matt shook his head, which caused his shaggy, too-long-for-his-own-taste brown hair to fall into his eyes. He reached a hand up to shove it out of his vision. “You just don’t get it, do you?”
“Why does everyone continually ask me that?” Josh sounded annoyed and frustrated.
“Because you don’t seem to understand!” Matt pulled his other hand out of his pocket and folded his arms across his chest. “Everyone around here cares about you. You aren’t just some huge inconvenience that we have to put up with because you happen to be the lead singer and the only one who writes the lyrics for our songs. You’re so much more to all of us than that. Dude, you’re one of my best friends. And I know damn well that our stylist cares a hell of a lot about you too or she wouldn’t be hanging around here and going out of her way for you as often as she does. That’s not her job. That’s what someone does for a friend. You know Mike and Ian feel the same way about you that I do. They went back to the bus to clean up the bloody mess that you left behind so no one else would find out about it. Do you at all understand what I’m telling you?” Matt took a deep breath. He had been waiting to say all of this to Josh for at least a year now, but it had previously seemed a little too much to get into, especially when they didn’t have heart-to-heart talks very often. Now was his chance, though, and he was going to take it. There was so much more he wanted to say, but this was enough for now.
Josh, on the other hand, still didn’t quite know what to say. He heard everything that Matt said to him and he was grateful that Matt, his stylist and the rest of the band all felt the way that they did about him. But he still didn’t know why. He had no idea what he did to deserve the support system he had in his life. Josh wasn’t that special. Not to himself and not to anyone else…or so he felt. It wasn’t that he thought he was a bad person. He had just always assumed that he wasn’t ever living up to anyone’s expectations of how he should be and he couldn’t understand why anyone would care a thing about him because of that.
“Well?” Matt asked, snapping Josh out of his own thoughts. He waved a hand in front of Josh’s face. “You still with me here?”
“Yeah…yes, I’m listening. And I hear what you’re saying. I do. Really. Believe me, I know how lucky I am. I’m the luckiest fucker in the world.” Josh stared down at his shoes, and tried to get lost again by studying the scuff marks across the toes. “Lucky, lucky me...,” he mumbled.
Matt felt like it was obvious that Josh wasn’t going to fully acknowledge what he had said yet. He knew his friend had heard his words, though, so he was willing to drop the conversation for the time being. He knew when to back off and he didn’t want to risk sending Josh back over the ledge. “So, man, umm…why don’t you get a little more sleep or something? It’s kinda late. It’s like, 12am and it’s been a pretty long day for you,” he said, checking his watch.
He watched as the tall blond kicked off his shoes, leaving them right in the middle of the floor where he stood and climbed into bed. He shrugged. “Not sleepy, but I guess it’s better than…” Josh stopped talking.
“Better than…?” Matt prompted, kicking Josh’s shoes out of the way and under the bed so Josh, himself wouldn’t trip and fall over them if he got up to go to the bathroom an hour from now in the dark.
“Better than having to think,” Josh replied quietly. He pulled the cheap, scratchy blue hospital blanket up to his chin and turned on his side to face away from Matt and the door.
“Yeah…I guess it is.” Matt lightly touched the foot of the bed as if he wanted to say one last thing, but thought better of it. “Sleep well, man. We’ll see you in the morning.”
At that, Josh reached up and turned off the light before burying himself back under his blankets once again. He held himself together until he heard Matt leave the room and the door close. Once he was alone, he sniffed loudly once or twice, wiped at his eyes and forced himself to try to sleep just because anything would be more ideal than thinking about his current reality. Even the possibility of more nightmares sounded more promising than this.
Back out in the hallway, Matt spotted the stylist sitting in the chair furthest from the door to Josh’s room, presumably to give them as much privacy as possible. Her hands were wrapped around a travel mug of undetectable brand to-go coffee that she had gotten from somewhere, and that was set on her lap. Her head was back against the wall and her eyes were shut. Matt quietly walked up to her and sunk slowly into a chair several away from hers so as not to disturb her in case she was asleep. Accidentally, he bumped the chair next to his which caused a domino effect, waking her up needlessly. He cringed when she jumped and jerked her head up to look around her.
The stylist smiled when she saw Matt. “Oh, thank god it’s you. I wasn’t really asleep. Just…resting my eyes. It’s been a very long day.” She yawned, covering her mouth and then took a deep sip of coffee.
Just seeing her yawn suddenly made Matt incredibly tired and he did his best to stifle a yawn, but failed. Then he yawned a second time. “Sorry,” he mumbled to her. “It HAS been a long day,” he repeated back to her.
“It’s been a long week.” She held out her coffee to him. “You need this more than I do, I think.”
Matt smiled at her appreciatively, stood and moved into the seat next to her before taking the mug from her. It was still hot, thankfully. He took several large gulps and he could already feel the caffeine hitting him. He was slightly more awake and aware than he had been in hours. He handed the mug back to her. “Thanks. That helped.”
“Anytime.” The stylist set the now-empty mug down in the chair beside her with the rest of her things. “So, how’d your talk with Josh go?” Matt had been in the room alone with Josh for nearly two hours and she knew that they had a lot to say to one another. She didn’t want to pry, but it was late and conversations after midnight always got a little too funny, a little too weird or a little too personal in her world.
“It was good. It was…not what I expected. I’ve known Josh for half my life and I don’t think he’s ever been as honest with me as he was tonight. It was good to hear, but it was…well…kinda heart-breaking, too…you know?” Matt slid down in his chair a bit and crossed his ankle over his knee. He folded his hands across his lap and got comfortable. “I know he’s a much deeper guy than he ever lets on to most people, especially when there’s an audience, even if it’s just a couple of people. Anyone is an “audience” to him. You can kinda see it in him and you can tell when he’s forcing being funny or trying to ignore something personal that somebody asked him. He likes to pretend that everything is one big joke. You know him. He doesn’t take himself seriously at all. It’s always been easier for Josh to fake it. He just doesn’t talk about really private stuff. He might now and again, but only if it’s just at that point when he doesn’t know what the hell to do anymore or he’s elaborating on a story that the world already knows. The problem is that it gets worse for him when everyone around him can tell that he’s going through something negative, but he’s on a ledge and they’re all acting so goddamn polite and composed. He hates that. He says he just didn’t want to pull anyone into his “shitty problems”, but I think there’s more to it than that. This time, I think he just didn’t say anything to anyone because, in his head, he knew what he wanted to do. There was no ledge. It was just…there was a problem he’d been through before and he knew how to solve it, even if his solution sucked. AGAIN. Like the last time he pulled this shit, he got caught. Too many people found out and now he has no choice but to talk about it. I know it’s killing him to face this head on like he has to, but at the end of the day, I think this whole thing is gonna be good for him. At least everything is gonna be out in the open for everyone. If nothing else, he’ll learn that he has people that he can count on and that he doesn’t have to fucking do this to himself.”
Matt looked over at the stylist. He wasn’t great at making eye contact with people when he spoke, so he waited until he was through to see her reaction to what he had said. Her eyes were fixed on the row of chairs on the opposite side of the hallway. She nodded wordlessly, without blinking. He wasn’t sure if she had heard a word he had said, but after several minutes she spoke. “You’re a good friend, Matt, especially to Josh. No matter what happens during all of this or any time in the future, don’t ever think otherwise. I have a feeling this thing with Josh is gonna get worse before it gets better and there’s a good chance he may get extremely pissed off at us before he’s through all of it. Ignore the bad stuff, okay? You’re so important to him.” She finally dragged her eyes away from the one askew chair in the row across from them and looked over at Matt. “I’ll tell you something else. When Josh and I were talking after your big fight on the bus, the one thing he was worried about was that he had hit you. He felt so bad about that. He might be older, but he looks up to you. You mean a lot to him. So do Mike and Ian, of course, but you go even further back with him. You were around for all of this stuff the first time and I think he really values that.”
Matt smiled a little. “I don’t know about all of that. I only did what a friend would do. I tried to be there for him in the only way I knew how. That’s all I’m doing now.”
“That’s what I mean, though,” the stylist said sitting up and turning in her chair to face Matt completely. “Plenty of people might be there for him, but not anyone would be crazy enough to stick around in a hospital all night knowing that he’s in good hands with the doctors and nurses. And not just anyone would go back to the bus to clean up puddles of clotted blood. Josh knows we all care about him. I’m…just not sure he realizes why.”
“I got that feeling too. Even as far back as we go, I can always remember Josh sorta making little digs at himself. It always sounded sarcastic and funny, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it was true. Did he really mean it back in high school when he told me that there were plenty of other, better people to be friends with? Did he mean it when he said I shouldn’t hang around him because he was “the bad seed”? Did he really mean it when he said it again just a few years ago? He’s got kind of a negative view about himself that he covers up by being kind of…overly pompous and funny. It’s like…he accepts compliments but he doesn’t think he deserves them, so he blows it off by being an ass. Everyone knows that and it’s how he got that whole “douchebag” title that he refers to all the time. Jesus, I wish that would die. I wish he’d fucking stop encouraging that one.”
Matt stood just to move around a little. His back hurt, his knee still hurt from the fight and now his head hurt. He was exhausted and worried and he was tired of feeling both. A thought crossed his mind that made him shake his head. For a brief moment, he wondered if he should even still be in this band. Josh needed more help than anyone in the band could give him and he needed to be in the hospital. They would have to cancel the rest of the tour now anyway. Maybe now would be a good time for him to go off on his own. He could still be friends with Josh and he could still visit and help him write music and all of those things. They just wouldn’t be performing together anymore. Josh would have no trouble finding a guitarist to take Matt’s place. That would be okay, wouldn’t it? No, it wouldn’t be okay. He couldn’t do it. He was so invested in this band and the people in it as well as the fans. But still, it was something to think about. Matt extended his hands up to the ceiling and reached as high as he could to stretch out his aching muscles.
He sat again and put a hand on the stylist’s shoulder. She had leaned her head back against the wall and her eyes were shut again. “You can go back to the bus and get some sleep if you want,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay here.”
“Nah,” she mumbled, “it’s okay. I’m fine. My head hurts a little again. I think it’s time for another pill.” Sitting up, she looked at her watch then stuck her hand into the little white paper bag containing her medications to check the dosages. “Yeah, I have to go track down something to drink again since someone who shall remain nameless finished off my coffee. I’ll be back.” Matt moved his hand as she stood and watched her wander off toward the cafeteria.
He sat in the hard chair with his legs crossed for nearly twenty minutes before the stylist came back. She had two to-go cups of coffee in her hand and handed one to Matt. “I thought you could use another,” she said, dropping back down into the seat next to him.
“Thanks,” he said with a grin and drank half the cup at once. She smiled back at him and dug her medications out of her bag. She swallowed two yellow pills and stuffed the bottles back into her bag before relaxing back into the chair.
Matt checked his watch this time. It had been four hours since he had left Josh’s room. Normally the man didn’t sleep for very many hours at a time and Matt wondered if he would be waking up soon or if the events of the day would be enough to make him drowsy enough to sleep all night like a normal human being. “Wondering about Josh?” The stylist’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Matt smiled up at her. “How’d you know?”
“I know the look,” she said. “I’m worried too. I hope he’s sleeping okay. It would suck that it takes something like this to get him to sleep through the night, but he needs the rest. As cliché as this may be, everything really does seem a little better with some rest.”
Matt stayed quiet for a few moments while he turned a thought over in his mind. “Do you remember last year…?”
She nodded, wondering where he was going with that.
“You told Josh and the rest of us that if we ever needed a hug or something that we could…?” Matt hesitantly started to ask her.
The stylist didn’t wait for him to finish his question. She set her coffee cup onto the seat beside her and slid her arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer to her. He did the same with his own coffee cup and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face into the crook of her neck. She slowly rubbed his back. This day had been too much for Matt. He hated seeing his friend like that and it really got to him. The excitement of the show, not having slept, the problem with Josh…it all came crashing down on him at once. He took a few deep breaths and fought to keep himself calm. She continued to pet his hair and rub his back for as long as he needed the comfort. Very quietly she spoke to him, “it’s okay, darlin’. It’ll be fine. This whole thing…it’s bad, but it’s not the end of the world. Josh is still here and he’s doing okay. We’re all here for him and we’re here for each other. Josh is gonna get better and he’ll get out of here. You’ll all be playing shows together again soon. I have no doubt.” It was as if she had read his mind and it was just what he needed to hear. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she said, “just don’t give up on him.” That caused Matt’s heart to break just a bit more as he realized that’s what his fleeting thought had been just minutes before.
Several doctors, numerous nurses and technicians and a janitor walked by the two friends as one comforted the other. No one knew the story, but every one of them gave the stylist and the guitar player a sympathetic look as they passed by, hoping for the best but fearing the worst.
After nearly twenty minutes, Matt’s pounding heart slowed its beat to a normal rhythm and the dismal feeling in the pit of his stomach had eased. Finally, he slowly pulled his arms away from the stylist and sat up. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. The stylist reached up and brushed his hair away from his eyes. “You doing okay?” She smiled gently and spoke quietly.
Matt took another breath and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I don’t usually…”
The stylist interrupted his words with her own. “It’s okay. We all need that every now and then. I know it’s hard to see Josh like this and I know how much it hurts. As much as Josh isn’t alone in this, neither are any of us. It’s okay for all of us to be upset as well, you know? We can break down, too.”
He wiped at his eyes and nose again with the back of his hand. “Thank you. Just…for everything. For this, for being there for Josh this time and even for last year. We lucked out when we hired you. We never counted on having a friend. We never thought you would turn out to be as awesome to us as you are. Thank you.”
The stylist felt the warm prickling of tears in her own eyes this time. It felt good to know that she was doing right by these men that she admired so much. “Thank you for accepting me. You guys are all so close that I was worried at first that I’d be kind of a fifth wheel. But as it turned out, you’re all so down to earth that it was easy to slip into your little clique and really be a part of the group. That’s why I’m so willing to go to the ends of the earth for you all. You did that for me and it’s my turn to return the favour.”
Matt held out his hand to her as he had seen Josh do several times. He liked the idea of platonically holding hands just for comfort. He liked it even more when she understood and placed her hand in his. Her hand was soft and gentle against his. Her touch made him feel…safe. Now he knew why Josh enjoyed having her around so much. Just by being there, the stylist’s presence calmed Matt.
He suddenly felt extremely drowsy again, and easily could have curled up on the tile floor and fallen asleep, even after the large coffee that he had just gulped minutes before. Matt leaned his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. In no time, he had fallen into a dreamless sleep that he so desperately needed.
When he woke an hour later, the stylist’s sweatshirt was draped over him like a blanket and she was gone. There was a yellow sticky note taped to his forehead blocking his view. Matt pulled the note from his face and blinked, trying to get his vision to clear. He was still so tired. Once the words came into view, he read what the stylist had scrawled out quickly. “Josh woke up. In sitting with him. Come in when you wake up. Will be checking on you periodically to make sure you haven’t been kidnapped by a Bad Girl.” Matt laughed to himself over her reference to the video he had made for the single on his solo album.
He gathered up her sweatshirt and stood. His back, neck and shoulders ached once again from sitting so strangely in the uncomfortable chair for so long. Before going in to see Josh, he stretched again, hoping to work out his sore muscles. After several minutes, the pain had faded. His knee, however, still throbbed thanks to his fight with Josh on the bus, as did his nose.
Matt checked his watch. Visiting hours weren’t for another hour, but he supposed the hospital staff was looking the other way due to Josh’s…condition. He figured that they knew he could use all the support he could get from the people who loved him the most. Once he felt comfortable with his own theory, hoping that he wouldn’t get tossed out on his ass for violating the rules, he took the strides to Josh’s room and knocked lightly on the door before opening it and walking in.
He smiled when he stepped in. The stylist was sitting up on the bed on top of the blankets while Josh was wrapped in the covers, sound asleep again, lying across her chest with his arm flung over her body. She had one arm wrapped around him and was lightly rubbing his shoulder with her fingertips. Matt walked over to her as quietly as he could. He pointed at Josh. She whispered, “He woke up seconds after you fell asleep. I figured you needed more rest than you’d get if I was sitting there, so I covered you up and came in here. We talked for a couple of minutes and he asked if I’d sit with him, so here we are.”
Matt smiled again and whispered back, “You’re in high demand for comfort tonight. Thank you.” He reached out to squeeze her free hand in appreciation. “You haven’t slept in days, have you?” There were dark circles under her eyes that rivaled the ones Josh usually sported. In fact, her dark circles were so bad that they looked very similar to the black eyes that both boys had given each other a couple of days prior.
“Umm…,” she said, thinking back, “I think it’s been a day and a half, if my calculations are right. But it’s okay. I don’t usually drink coffee so that’s got me kinda wired. I’m sure I’ll need to crash soon, though. I can hold off until Mike and Ian show up for visiting hours. Presumably a doctor will be by again then. Speaking of, did you ever let the doctors in on the bulimia shit?”
Matt nodded. “We did when you were off picking up your medications. We also asked the doctor to wait until we were all here to talk before he said anything to Josh about it. We explained everything, even going back as far as his teenage years. Luckily, the doctor was extremely understanding and agreed. I know we all wanna do what’s best for him, but I think we need to take things slow for now rather than just throwing his ass into some kind of treatment center and walking away while hoping for the best. He needs us…right?”
As proof of what Matt had just asked, Josh stirred a bit against the stylist and she moved her hand from his shoulder to the back of his head and softly whispered, “shh…shh…” to him. He whined quietly in his sleep but settled down and his breathing steadied again.
She looked back up to Matt and said, “Right. I think you did well. Thank you for taking care of that.” She squeezed Matt’s hand again before letting go. “Remember how much you mean to him. To everyone.” He nodded and smiled, then moved to sink down into the more comfortable chair that was in the room. He debated going back out into the hallway to wait for Mike and Ian who would inevitably be showing up as soon as they could, but the last thing he wanted was to sit in one of those horrible fucking chairs again. In fact, he would have shoved both the stylist and Josh off the bed if it meant he could sleep comfortably for just half an hour. Irrational thoughts, but there they were nonetheless.
The day was still cloudy, Matt observed, as the sun should have been up by now. The room was lighter, but now rain was pecking at the windows in an incredibly soothing tone. Watching the drops chase each other down the glass panes, he dozed off in his chair. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep until someone touched his shoulder and made him jump. Being as sleep deprived as he was, he was extra jittery today. Mike hung onto Ian’s shoulder and doubled over, laughing silently until his sides ached.
Ian grinned at Matt and pointed over at the stylist and Josh, who were now both sound asleep. Matt yawned and nodded before pointing at the door. He followed his two band mates out into the hall where they sat yet again in those god-awful chairs to talk. Once they were seated and as comfortable as they could get, Matt rubbed his eyes trying to wake up before turning to the other two men. “Brett still won’t come?”
Ian shook his head. “He’s so pissed. And worried. But mostly pissed. He can’t believe Josh is doing this all over again. We wound up telling him about what happened last year. That might have been a mistake. He was actually repacking all of his shit this morning when we woke up. I’m not sure if he’s done with us for good or if he just knows we’re gonna have to cancel the tour for now and there’s no use hanging around.” He shrugged. “It sucks, but we couldn’t change his mind no matter how hard we tried.”
Mike leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees before lacing his fingers together. “All he did the entire time we were getting ready to come for the visit was rant and rave. ““Fuck Josh!”, “How could he?”, “What the hell is wrong with him?” That kinda stuff. It was crazy, wasn’t it?” He looked over at Ian who nodded in agreement.
“I’ve never seen Brett so angry. It had me a little nervous, to be honest.” Ian tapped his fingers against his legs. It was a drummer thing, but this time it was kind of a nervous motion as well.
The conversation was interrupted when a tall black-haired man in a long white coat walked up and stood in front of the group. “Are you all friends of Josh Ramsay?” The three men stood to look the doctor in the eye. His name tag badge read “Dr. Simon Baker”. He was approximately the same age as Mike and Ian and he had a look about him that seemed comforting.
“Yes, we’re the rest of his band…um…we’re friends. Yeah,” Matt said awkwardly. He held out his hand to shake the doctor’s.
“Are you all here? I know the doctor who admitted him said something about not speaking directly to Josh until the “entire group” was here,” said Dr. Baker, making air quotes around the two words with his fingers. “This is pretty serious and we really need to get started on getting your friend on the road to recovery.”
“Yeah, we’re all here, but Josh and another friend of ours are still sleeping in there,” Ian said, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder to Josh’s hospital room.
“Then I suggest we wake them up because we have quite a lot to discuss.” The doctor looked at each one of the men in front of him, waiting for one of them to make the decision to agree with him.
“I guess we should. It’s for the best,” Mike agreed.
Dr. Baker nodded and turned to walk toward the door to Josh’s room with the three band members on his heels. He knocked lightly and when the stylist and singer didn’t stir, he opened the door and walked in. The doctor glanced over at the three members of the band. “One of you want to wake them up so we can get this started?”
Mike took the initiative and stepped up beside the bed. He gently put a hand on the stylist’s shoulder. “Hey,” he whispered, “time to wake up. The doctor is here and wants to talk to us all.” He shook her a bit.
Slowly she opened her eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to figure out where she was. Her right arm was asleep under Josh and she couldn’t move. Clearing her throat as quietly as she could so she didn’t scare Josh, she said, “Get him off me. I’m stuck.” Ian laughed and walked around to the other side of the bed.
“Hey, man…let’s go. Time to get up. You slept all night and now we have to talk to the doctor.” Ian grabbed Josh by the shoulders and lifted him enough that the stylist could free her arm and slide off the bed to stand. Josh blinked and squinted as he rubbed his eyes. They were so bloodshot and he was still so exhausted. He shifted around on the bed until he was sitting up and looking at the doctor.
“Good morning, Mr. Ramsay,” Dr. Baker said with a smile.
“Fuck that. What time is it?” He checked the clock on the wall. “Gross.” Josh said rolling his eyes like an irritated teenager.
“Listen, I know being in here isn’t pleasant at all, but everyone in this room is only doing this because they want to see you get better. Your friends here,” the doctor said gesturing to Matt, Mike and Ian, “explained to your admitting doctor about the bulimia issue as well. Dr. Goodall thought you looked you looked thin for your height and stature when she admitted you last night and it’s good to know we have a confirmation on this so we know where to go from here. You DO realize how bad this is for you, right? You know this isn’t a great weight loss plan, yes?”
Josh glared at the doctor. He blinked once…twice. “Do I look stupid to you?” That seemed to be his go-to response any time anyone questioned his motives.
“Mr. Ramsay…,” the doctor started.
Ian stepped in. “Josh, just answer the man. You’re in here FOR being fucking stupid. Twice. We all know you’re a smart guy who just fucked up a little, but come on. Man up and do this without the attitude.” Ian sounded more like a parent at that point and Josh hated it. He hated it more than he could say. He’d heard his own father say very similar words to him a decade before the first time around. Now here he was again. And he couldn’t say a fucking thing because he knew he couldn’t even make excuses to get himself out of things this time, let alone get angry about it. He fucked up. Time to face the music.
“Sorry,” he muttered for what felt like the thousandth time in two days. He was always fucking sorry for something. He constantly felt like he had to apologize for everything and he was getting really fucking sick and tired of that. For once…just once…he wanted to be angry and to break things and to throw a huge fit without being told to suck it up or to shut up about it. Josh was mad, he was frustrated, guilty, embarrassed, depressed, cranky, sad, emotionally, mentally and physically drained, tired of everything and apparently suicidal, it seemed to everyone else, he realized as he glanced at his bandaged wrist. Why the hell couldn’t he express that without getting spoken to as if he was some bratty little kid? Why the hell didn’t he speak up?
“Wait, no,” Josh said as he slid off the bed and stood. His head was a little fuzzy and he was a bit groggy, but now he was angry again and he knew exactly what he wanted to say. “I’m not sorry. I’m not fucking sorry at all. I’m pissed as hell and I’m done taking it. I’m done. I’ve FUCKING HAD IT.” Now Josh was yelling. He took several steps across the room until he was in Ian’s face. “You’d better back off and take all of that logical advice with you. I don’t need it. I don’t want it. I don’t get it. I know you won’t regret saying this shit, but I don’t wanna hear it.”
Matt and the stylist looked at each other. The stylist’s eyes were wide with concern. Josh seemed to get continually more and more angry every time he was confronted lately. She knew all of that had to do with what he was going through, but it was still unsettling. She had seen him this heated twice in the last week alone- once in the hotel room and then again on the bus during his fight with Matt. She was able to diffuse that problem by sending Josh away to go cool off. This time, though, that wasn’t an option.
No one liked seeing Josh this way. He definitely wasn’t one to get mad this quickly or this easily or nearly this often. In fact, no one had seen Josh act like this since he was a moody teenager and no one was quite sure how to handle him.
Suddenly the stylist had an idea. “Everybody out. Please. Just for a bit. Go. Everyone leave.” She opened the thick wooden door of the hospital room and the group walked out, bewildered. Let them relax for a while. She’d call them back in shortly. Now was her time to truly prove her worth to Josh.
Closing the door behind them, the stylist leaned back against it. She motioned to Josh with one hand. “Come on. Give it to me. What the fuck are you waiting for, Josh? You’re done with all of this shit. I know you are. You wanna kick and scream, then do it!” She knew he thought that the things he said wouldn’t change anything and she knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but she had to try. She was yelling back at him now, hoping to get him to continue the fight. She didn’t want to provoke him only to make him mad. She had made a promise to him that she would be there any time he ever needed to take out his anger on someone else rather than taking it out on himself. And this time around, she wanted to show that she was true to her word. “Let’s go, Ramsay!” This time, rather than turning on himself, he took it out on her.
He took the bait. He turned to face her, stepped up to the stylist and put his good hand against the door beside her shoulder so he was only mere inches away. He had her trapped and frankly, it intimidated her, but she trusted him and swallowed any nervousness she may have felt. He was so close against her that she could feel the tension in his body. “I’VE FUCKING HAD IT. I’M SO, SO FUCKING DONE. I CAN’T STAND THIS SHIT ANYMORE! You all keep saying I’m in over my head. Well, don’t you think I fucking know that? Everyone is always trying to tell me what the fuck to do and where to be. And now I’m fucking stuck in this hell-hole because I’m a complete fuck-up and I can’t do anything right. I can’t make everyone happy and I try so damn hard all the fucking time. I can’t make the fans happy because I can’t meet every one of them or take pictures with them all or I won’t hug them or I won’t write out song lyrics for them because I don’t have the fucking time and then I wind up seeing all kinds of shit in comments on the computer about what an asshole I am. I can’t make the press happy because I’m me and I just have to be a smartass all the time and they hate that. I can’t make the band happy because I pull this shit. And I pull this shit because I can’t make myself happy. And I can’t be happy because I can’t make everyone else happy. It’s one…huge…vicious fucking cycle that I just can’t break. I can’t do it. I’m done trying. I’m done and I’m tired AND I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE.”
When he was done speaking, Josh took a deep breath and let his arm drop back down to his side, allowing the stylist to relax just a little. He closed his eyes for a moment just to steady his chaotic thoughts and then opened them again. He took a step back, turned and walked over to the window. The blond placed his palms against the glass and stared out into the parking lot, watching the rain dance in the deep puddles that had formed overnight. He slammed his hands against the glass once and left them there. He breathed in sharply as the pain from his bandaged hand hit him. “I just can’t do it anymore,” he mumbled to his image in the window, causing the pane to fog up.
The stylist watched as Josh’s shoulders rose and fell with each breath he took. She gave him a few minutes to collect himself before she saw his face in the reflection of the glass. He was looking up at her. Very quietly and very gently she asked, “Are you finished?”
He dropped his head and nodded before leaning his forehead against the window. Josh took another deep, shuddering breath. To anyone outside looking in, Josh looked like a tall, thin, blond Garfield doll plastered to the window. Inside, the same person would see an intelligent man falling apart at the seams.
The stylist looked around the bland, unremarkable cream coloured room that Josh had all to himself. He didn’t even have a change of clothing here. For the first time, she finally realized that he was still in his blood-stained clothing from the day before. That couldn’t be helping the situation at all. She made a mental note to go back to the bus and grab some of his things to bring to him later, whether he was here or getting settled in the rehab and behavioural health clinic. She couldn’t believe Mike or Ian hadn’t thought to do that. Shaking herself out of her own thoughts, she looked back at Josh who hadn’t moved an inch. He seemed frozen in place.
She took several steps toward him. When he heard the stylist moving behind him, he looked up and over his shoulder at her. “No, don’t take another step. Don’t come near me. I’ll put my fucking fist through this glass if you do. I swear to God.” It was now two days ago that Josh had basically told her that she was crazy for thinking that he would ever consider putting a fist through the glass window of the hotel and here he was threatening to do it when all she had done was take a step toward him. What the fuck was wrong with him?
This was new. Josh had never before vocally threatened to hurt himself. Not like this. What was she going to do? She was too far from the door to open it and yell for help, not that it would do any good anyway. She had a feeling that Josh would feel the same way if she did that as well. The stylist channeled her inner rational, logical Ian and she could hear his voice telling her to keep calm. “Fair enough,” the stylist raised her hands. “I’m just gonna sit on the bed. Is that okay?” She watched carefully as Josh considered this and dipped his head slightly in a nod. She took two steps backward and hopped up on the edge of the bed. From here, he would have to turn around to look at her. She really didn’t think he would do anything drastic. He was just incredibly angry and he panicked.
“AAAAHHHHHH!” Josh growled and slammed his hands against the thick window panes again. He ignored the shooting pain up his injured arm this time.
“Still pissed?” the stylist asked.
“What the fuck do you think?” he asked finally turning around to face her.
She got a little bold and slid herself off the bed. Taking a second or two to work herself back up, she narrowed her eyes at the singer. “Then you take it the fuck out on me, Ramsay. You quit doing this to yourself. What did I tell you before? You take it out on me.” She gestured with her hand and placed it square in the center of her chest. “You take it the fuck out on ME,” she repeated multiple times, just to make her point. She took another step toward him. By now she was really acting and doing everything she could to get him to realize that it was okay for him to stop turning every negative thought in on himself. She was more afraid for him than angry at him but she couldn’t let that show. He was furious, among other things, and he needed to get it out before he did more damage to his body. She was going to prove that she was there for him no matter what it took. The stylist only hoped that she was being watched or at least listened to through the door by the band just in case she needed a little rescuing. She took another step closer.
The stylist softened her tone, but continued to push the singer until he finally cracked. “Come on, Josh. You’re not done with this. You have more to say. Let’s hear it. This isn’t some after school special. Don’t censor yourself. I’m not gonna waste my time in here listening to you whine if you don’t have anything real to say.” That may have been one step too far, but now she was invested. She took another step closer until now she was the one who had him pinned back against the window. He would either fight or flee and she hoped it was the former.
“Yeah? Well, fuck you. Fuck you and fuck them. Fuck everyone. Fuck this band! Fuck music. Sell my guitars. No, throw them all under the fucking bus and back over them. Shred them. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Everyone praises me for being a “brilliant musician”,” Josh said, throwing his hands up in an ‘air quotes’ motion, “but no one sees this shit. No one knows that the music comes from a dark place I don’t like to go. It comes from a place I don’t wanna be again. EVER. But I can’t write fluff shit because that’s not real. It’s not me. But our music…it’s tearing me apart. It’s killing me. It’s fucking killing me…” He slowly sank down to his knees, breathing heavily.
The stylist dropped to her knees beside him. She wrapped her arms around him and only held on tighter when he raised his hand to wave her off. “Fuck you…fuck all of you,” he sobbed. He buried his face in the crook of her neck just as Matt had done hours earlier. “I can’t be everything that everyone wants me to be,” he mumbled against her body. He was in full-on meltdown mode now. She rubbed his back and softly smoothed the back of his hair with her hand over and over again while rocking him gently. She could feel warm tears soaking the shoulder of her shirt. It was a bittersweet moment. The stylist hated seeing Josh like this, but it was good that he was finally talking about how he felt. “You don’t have to be anything to anyone, darlin’. At least, not right now. It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just us here and I’m not asking you to be anyone or anything that you don’t wanna be,” she said to him quietly.
She let Josh yell incoherently off and on as the minutes passed. Only catching a word here and there, she simply just agreed with everything he said in a neutral way. “We’ll fix it. We’ll make things perfect again,” she whispered back to him when he said something that sounded like, “I’m sorry that I’m always the one to let you down. I can’t…I’m barely here at all…”
“I know, darlin’…I know. But you need to know that you’re not letting me down. You never have. This has only ever been about you.” She wasn’t sure he was paying attention, but the stylist needed Josh to know that she was disappointed in his actions, not who he was as a person.
When his tears subsided, the stylist whispered into his ear, “Better now?” He nodded against her shoulder but made no motion to let go of her.
Josh pulled his face away from her shoulder just long enough to whisper once again, “I’m so sorry…,” before more sobs unexpectedly wracked his body. She pulled him tightly against her again and resumed rubbing his back.
Very, very softly the stylist whispered back to him, “No, don’t you ever tell me you’re sorry. Not for something like that. This is how you feel. I told you to take it out on me. I pushed you do to it and I’m glad you did. Don’t ever apologize to me for how you feel. There’s never, ever a need to apologize for being honest with me.” He nodded at her statement but said nothing.
Finally, an hour after the stylist had first ushered the rest of the men out of the room, Josh pulled himself out of the stylist’s arms for good and sighed deeply. He wiped his face with his hands several times and shoved his hair out of his eyes. His eyes were red and swollen, as were his lips. His nose wouldn’t stop running and his eyes were still glassy. “You look like shit, Ramsay,” the stylist said, making use of a running joke and smiling a little.
He huffed and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I feel like shit. I feel…awful. I don’t know how you guys put up with me. I don’t…understand WHY you put up with me.” Josh continued to rub his hands over his face and wipe them on his pants until the stylist reached up and grabbed the box of tissues from his night table.
“I think we need to get the rest of the guys back in here for that. I can only speak for myself.”
“No! Please…not yet. I can’t…not yet…please…,” he begged her twice.
“Okay…okay. Not yet. I promise. It’s just us in here like always. We’re just talking. I won’t get them until you tell me you’re ready.” The stylist saw the panicked look on Josh’s face and she reached up to wipe tears from his cheek. “It’s fine. You’re okay.” She shifted from her position on her knees to sitting and leaning back against the wall.
He sighed again. “Intense, dude…fucking intense.”
“Yeah…it is.” She drew her legs up to her chest and rested her chin on her knees, copying the way Josh sat from time to time. The stylist stared down at her shoes. Her mind was racing and she couldn’t slow it down. Everything she had just been through with Josh had gotten her adrenaline going and now she couldn’t calm down. It had unnerved her, seeing him like that. Tearful Josh was someone she could handle. Angry Josh intimidated her but she had shoved those feelings aside in order to be there for him. Now she needed a minute to collect herself.
“Can I ask you something?” Josh moved to sit cross-legged facing his stylist. He shredded a new tissue into a small pile in front of him on the floor just for something to do.
She watched for a bit before answering. “Of course. Anything.”
“Well…it’s just what I said before. Why do you care anything about me? Why do you put up with me?” It was a serious question and it required a serious answer.
“Because you let me.” That wasn’t all she wanted to say, but it seemed like the most significant way to start. “Josh, you’re one of the most brilliant, insightful, intelligent, artistic people I’ve ever met. But quite honestly, you’re not the easiest person to get to know. You don’t seem to trust people easily, which is understandable because of everything you told me about never being sure of their motives for wanting to get to know you. You’re also sort of hard to get to know because you’re so sarcastic most of the time. When you’re being sincere, though, it means a lot. When you let down those walls you keep up, it’s an amazing thing. I care about you and I “put up with you” because you made the choice to trust me and let me in on some of the deeper, scarier things going on in your head and in your life and I wanna protect that. I wanna protect you. It hurts to see you going through all of this, you know? It just makes me want to stick you in my pocket and keep you safe forever. Dude, that’s why I fight so hard for you. It’s not because I wanna piss you off. I don’t want you to hate me. I do it because I care and because I want nothing but the best for you. I want you to have what you deserve.” The stylist’s eyes teared a bit as she spoke and Josh offered her a tissue. She sighed at the end of her speech, hoping Josh understood what she was saying.
He held up his bandaged arm and stared at it. “I do get what I deserve,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her.
She heard him, though. She heard every word she said. “No,” the stylist said, her voice finally shaking. “Don’t be talking like that. This is NOT what you deserve. This has never been what you deserved. It’s all such a fucking illusion, Josh. You’ve talked yourself into believing this and it’s bullshit. All of it.”
“It’s not. I don’t…how can I get you to understand that I AM worthless? I’m a fuck-up. I’m not good for anything. I shouldn’t even be here. I shouldn’t…maybe I shouldn’t be alive…” Josh looked away. He was crying. AGAIN. Jesus, he hated this. It had been so long since he’d let his emotions get the better of him and now he was breaking down for the second time in as many years. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Hey,” said the stylist, “look at me.” She waited until he turned back to face her. Tears clung to his lashes, making his blue eyes appear darker. His hair fell across his forehead and it was the first time she’d ever seen him without some kind of hair product, so it stuck out in all directions. Putting her hand lightly against his bandaged arm, she said, “this is not what you deserve.” She then pointed to the door leading out to the hallway. “Those guys out there, the ones who stuck around to visit you, the ones who gave up the chance to go home and spend more time with their friends and families, the one who spent the night sitting in a chair in the hallway outside your room, the one who was so angry and hurt by what you did to yourself that he can’t even see you like this, the people who wrote it into your contract that you need to get help if you ever relapsed…that’s what you deserve. You give everything you have to everyone as best you can. So don’t fucking tell me that you don’t deserve to be alive. People wouldn’t have anything to do with you if you truly did deserve what you believe you deserve. Jesus, Josh…I wish I could get you to believe me. Everyone out there loves you for a reason. It’s no coincidence and it’s no mistake. They do, and they have for years. I don’t see that changing any time soon.”
“I can’t talk about this anymore,” he said covering his face with his hands for a moment. He groaned into his palms, wiped his eyes and sighed.
“It’s okay,” the stylist said putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. “We should get everyone else back in here because there’s a lot of other stuff to talk about. Hopefully we can get the doctor back, too. I’m sure he wasn’t waiting around all this time.”
Josh nodded and shoved himself up onto his feet before reaching down to offer a hand to the stylist. She stood and walked over to the door. “You’re ready?”
“No…but do it anyway,” he said.
The stylist walked out into the hall and closed the door behind her. Mike, Matt and Ian looked up at her. She burst into tears at the sight of them, which frankly scared the shit out of each man. Mike stood and offered her his seat. “God, is Josh okay??” he asked, kneeling in front of her.
She nodded and covered her face with her hands. “He’s…f-f-fine,” she stuttered.
“What’s wrong?? Are you okay?” Ian put his arm around her shoulders. She sobbed against him for several minutes before slowly calming herself down and pulling herself away from the drummer.
“I’m okay…I’m fine. It was just all so much. I don’t know how much you all heard, if anything. I promised Josh a long time ago that I’d be there if he ever needed to take his anger out on anyone. I’d rather he rant and rave at me than do any more damage to himself, you know? So…that’s what I did. I stood there and let him scream himself hoarse at me. I just…I don’t do well with getting yelled at. I kept it together until just now, but it was hard. I know it wasn’t directed at me personally. I know that. It’s just…everything he was saying, the yelling…all of it. I’m okay. He’s okay. It’s all fine. Honest. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you guys.” She wiped at her eyes and her nose before taking a deep breath. The boys looked skeptical, but took her at her word.
“Umm…can we get the doctor back? Josh says he’s ready to discuss all of this stuff and we’d better do it now,” she continued after a minute of silence.
“You’re sure you’re okay?” Mike reached up and brushed her hair back out of her face. He looked extremely concerned and worried. He had the softest heart in the group and she valued that in him.
The stylist forced a smile. “I’m okay. I promise.” She caught his hand and squeezed it.
Mike patted her knee before he stood up. “I’ll go track down the doctor again. He said we could just go to the nurses’ station and they’d page him for us. We could hear the yelling and the doctor peeked in once, so he knew what was going on. He thought it was good that Josh was finally talking to someone and he was pretty understanding about it, so he said he’d go see some other patients while he waited.”
“Thank you guys,” the stylist said looking around at Matt and Ian as well as Mike. “I’m sorry it took so long. Your singer in there…he’s got a lot going on in that head of his…”
“Yeah…he always has,” Matt answered.
Mike smiled at her before turning away to go in search of the nurses’ station.
Matt got up from his chair and dropped into the seat next to the stylist so he and Ian flanked her. “Are you really sure you’re okay?” he asked.
She nodded and leaned crossed her legs. “Yeah, I think so. It was just all a lot to handle. After everything that’s happened and worrying about Josh and the fact that the only sleep I’ve gotten in two days was in there with him…it all got to me. I’m okay. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Everybody is entitled to break down now and then,” Matt said, echoing what she had told him earlier when he needed a shoulder to lean on. He smiled at the stylist, knowing she understood.
She smiled back at Matt. She put an arm around him and one around Ian. “Thank you, guys. I love all of you, you know?”
Ian smiled too. “We know. You must or you wouldn’t hang around this dysfunctional group. And just so you know, we love you too. You’re good for us. You’re like our own personal cheerleader and we appreciate that. Thank you for that.”
“What he said,” Matt said grinning.
“What’s this? I walk away for five minutes and everyone gets hugs but me?” Mike walked up to the three, pretending to be hurt. He stuck his bottom lip out and pouted.
“On the contrary,” the stylist said standing. “I only saved the best for last!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him loudly on the cheek, making him blush. She stepped back and grinned at him. “Better?”
Mike laughed. “Much. I’m glad I’m as loveable as these losers.” He pointed at Matt and Ian.
“Of course you are! Especially if you managed to wrangle that doctor back in again,” the stylist said, bringing them back to the matter at hand.
“Ah, I did!” Mike draped his arm across the stylist’s shoulders as he spoke to the group. “The nurses said they’d page him and he should be back here shortly. Should we wait out here or should we go back into the room with Josh?”
Everyone turned to look at the stylist. “I…umm...” She wasn’t sure one way or the other. She thought Josh might like a bit of space to himself after his meltdown, but on the other hand, she sort of wondered if the anticipation and waiting alone might drive him crazy.
As the stylist mentally debated what to do, she looked up to see Josh’s face in the window of the door to his room. He opened it and walked out to join them all in the hallway. “Hey,” he said quietly. It looked like he’d cleaned himself up a bit in the bathroom after the stylist had left. His hair was a bit less unruly and he smelled like mint, so he’d obviously found a toothbrush or very strange deodorant. He hadn’t yet been able to shave, though, and this was the first time the stylist had ever seen him with any significant amount of facial hair. She decided that it wasn’t altogether a bad look for him, but it really didn’t suit him well either.
“Hey, man…how’re you feeling?” Mike asked him, pulling his arm from around the stylist. He gave Josh a quick hug and stepped back.
“I’m…awake, I’m trying…I’m…still here,” Josh said sticking his hands into his back pockets and shrugging his shoulders a bit. His eyes were still red-rimmed and he was still sniffling a bit, making it obvious to everyone that he’d been crying, but no one mentioned it. “I’m…sorry about before. You know. I didn’t mean…”
Matt looked up at Josh but quickly dropped his eyes to the floor. Mike spoke up instead. “It’s okay, man. We get it. You’re dealing with a shitload of stuff now and we’d be pretty crappy friends if we couldn’t take a little abuse now and then, right?” Out of the corner of his eye, Mike saw Matt subtly shake his head, but he said nothing.
Ian stood and clapped Josh on the shoulder. “No apologies necessary. At least, not for that.” Ian gave the singer a pointed look that made Josh feel nothing but guilt because he knew Ian was talking about the fact that Josh had caused so much harm to his body without telling a soul what was going on. But he wasn’t about ready to apologize for that again. He’d done that often enough and now he felt like it was just being thrown back in his face. “Can we get you anything? We can go get you something to eat and bring it back to the room, or…”
“Umm…well…I haven’t eaten anything in a couple of days, but I’m not really hungry…” Josh’s voice got quieter as he spoke. He knew nothing he was going through was a secret, but he was still ashamed to admit it.
“I can go grab something from the cafeteria anyway. Soda and…what? Anything you want, on me,” Ian offered again.
Josh smiled a little at his drummer. “Thanks, dude…I guess…just…whatever looks good. I’m really not that hungry at all.”
“Okay then, I’ll be back really soon. Don’t let the doctor start talking without me.” Ian walked off in the direction of the cafeteria, patting his back pocket to make sure he remembered to grab his wallet that morning.
“So…,” Matt finally said staring up at the singer from his seat.
“Yeah…?” Josh seemed defeated. He had given up his sassy, sarcastic attitude in favour of one that was more sincere. He knew he needed help and he knew he couldn’t be an ass about it.
“How was your night last night? Sleep okay?” Matt was just trying to make small talk. Matt knew Josh so well that he could see how uncomfortable his friend was just by being around everyone. He wanted to make things a little easier, but it was so damn hard. Almost impossible. He was also trying to make small talk just so he could ignore his own feelings.
“You oughta know. You spent the night here, didn’t you?” The blond took his hands out of his pockets and planted himself in Ian’s vacated seat.
Matt nodded and yawned at the thought of having had almost no sleep. “I did, but that doesn’t mean I know whether you slept or not. You could have been pacing around in there all night for all I know.”
“Nah…I guess all of this,” Josh said pointing at his wrist, “wore me out enough to sleep. I was out cold for a while. Speaking of last night…thanks for staying here. It means a lot to me.”
“Hey, you’d do it for me,” Matt stated.
Josh smirked. “No way in hell.”
Matt looked up at him with confusion on his face. Josh’s smirk turned into a grin. “You know I would. I’m just fucking with you.”
That was the first time any of them had seen Josh in a mood like this in quite a while and it felt good. It seemed like Josh was slowly getting back to himself again. “And you,” he said looking up at Mike, “thank you and Ian for…you know…everything you did back at the bus, too.”
“Hey, man, as much as we wish it wasn’t something that had to be done, we were glad to do it. We love you, you glittery bitch.” Mike grinned at Josh.
Josh laughed quietly. “Fucking walking Hallmark card…,” he muttered.
Mike laughed along, “Yeah, but it would be weird if I was any different, wouldn’t it?” Josh had to agree. He loved his friends and bandmates just as they were and he wouldn’t trade them for the world.
Everyone looked up when a doctor rounded the corner carrying a chart and stopped in front of them. “Mr. Ramsay! It’s good to see you up and around,” Dr. Baker said holding his hand out to shake Josh’s.
Josh put his hand in the doctor’s for the ritual and let go again before standing. He sighed. “Uh…thanks.”
“Is everyone here?” the doctor asked looking around at the group.
“Almost. Ian should be back in a minute,” Josh answered. “He…he went to go get me something from the cafeteria.”
“Good, that’s something we have to discuss too.” The doctor nodded and smiled at Josh.
“There he is,” the stylist said pointing in the same direction from which the doctor had come. Ian was carrying what looked like three cans of Josh’s favourite soda choice, a hot coffee for himself and two bagels as well as something wrapped in cellophane that she couldn’t identify. She broke away from the group to help Ian by grabbing the soda cans and what she discovered was a cinnamon bun wrapped in the pink plastic.
“Jesus, Ian! What’d you do? Raid the entire place?” She juggled the soda cans before nearly dropping one.
He grinned at the stylist. “Well, I did it for Josh! Gotta get the boy to eat, right?”
She nodded as she walked back to the group with him. She handed a can over to Josh and he immediately popped the top.
“We’re all here now?” Dr. Baker asked glancing around at the five people surrounding him.
“Yes,” Ian answered. “Sorry.”
“Well, let’s go inside where we can talk a bit.” The doctor opened the door to Josh’s room and everyone filed inside.
Once the door was shut behind them and Josh was semi-contently sitting on the bed with a can of soda to his mouth, the doctor ran down the basics. He knew that Josh legally had to be admitted into a behavioural health center for relapsing back into bulimia and he was to be on a suicide watch due to the severity of his recent bout with self-harming. He didn’t believe Josh was actually suicidal and Josh had never admitted to as much. In fact, the singer himself didn’t believe he truly wanted to die. What sent him here…that was an accident. He readily admitted that he wanted to slice into his body, but he hadn’t meant for it to get that out of hand. That part wasn’t on purpose…he didn’t think. He may have said that he didn’t think he deserved to be alive, but he didn’t REALLY mean that he wanted to kill himself. He had only meant all along that maybe he never should have been born. If he could just disappear from existence, that would be ideal. Either way, the doctors and the inevitable psychiatrists and psychologists he’d be seeing would all agree that there were no ifs, ands or buts about it. Josh had to be in there and he understood. He had known what would happen all along if he fucked up. He had to comply.
Josh had stopped listening to the doctor talk and only half-heard the questions he was being asked. He nodded appropriately as needed and had everyone fooled into thinking he was paying attention. Truthfully, he was too busy going over things in his own head. He’d been in this situation before. He knew what he needed to do to get in and out of this upcoming stay at the behavioral health facility. The last time, he had gone in with the intent of coming back out and going right back into all the same old shit that had gotten him sent there in the first place. This time, he wasn’t in as deeply. He was stone-cold sober. It was all mental. He could beat that. And at the very least, he could trick the doctors into believing he was okay. If worse came to worst, he could always kick this shit mostly on his own when he was out and didn’t have to answer to anyone. He’d be okay…as long as he had his friends. He didn’t at all believe he could do this completely by himself. He did, however, think that he could handle it if he was with the people he loved now that they knew what was going on. Fuck it. He’d just have to see where this whole thing went and take it from there. Josh raised his soda can to his mouth and gulped a couple of times, finishing what was left.
“Do you understand, Mr. Ramsay? Are we all clear? Any questions?” What? Oh, Dr. Baker. Right.
“Uh…nope,” Josh said shaking his head. “Treatment, doctors, get better. Got it.”
“Mr. Ramsay…Josh…this isn’t a game,” the doctor said putting his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You have to work with us. You do want to get better, don’t you?”
Josh cut his eyes to the rest of the band quickly. He did. Of course he did. Didn’t he? “Yeah, better.”
The band looked relieved at his answer, but something about the looks both Matt and his stylist were giving him concerned him. He was sick of not being able to pull anything over on her, but he supposed it was for the best that she could read him so well because it meant he couldn’t get away with anything anymore. Matt, however…goddamn, what was his problem?
“Okay, good. Then please pay attention.” The doctor held Josh’s chart out to him. “See this? Everything we’ve observed about you is on this chart. Every single thing has been written on here since the moment you came through those hospital doors. You can’t fake your way out of this. If you don’t get better, you’ll be held in the Center that much longer. Understand?”
Josh stared at the chart without blinking. He understood. He knew damn well what that was like. “Yeah, I know. I know…”
“Good, then let’s get you signed out of here and send you over to the Center, shall we?” Dr. Baker tucked the chart under his left arm and stuck his right arm out to shake Josh’s hand again.
It took Josh a moment to snap out of his thoughts, but he apathetically shook the doctor’s hand and thanked him. The closer the time got to signing into that treatment center, the less amped he was to go. It’s not that he didn’t want to get better, he just didn’t want to do it this way. Not again. But he didn’t have a choice.
The doctor left after shaking hands with the rest of the group and explaining to everyone that Josh would really need a lot of patience, understanding and love from his friends in order to help him overcome everything he was dealing with. He walked off saying he was going to have a nurse come in with some paperwork for Josh to sign before he could be released and since he was doing well enough for the moment, he could get himself over to the behavioural health center himself by the end of the day. Josh was glad to hear it because he had to go back to the bus to pack his gear, and he was looking forward to seeing the bus one last time.
That thought came crashing down on him immediately after the doctor left. “So, umm…,” Mike said looking over at Ian, “we figured it would be best if we got you straight to the treatment place. Ian and I packed up all your stuff late last night after we got the bus cleaned up. It’s out in the car waiting for you.”
It took Josh a minute to figure out exactly what Mike was saying. “Wait, what car?”
“Oh, well, we sorta rented a car for the week,” Ian stated, matter-of-factly. “It seemed easier than having to grab a taxi any time we wanted to go somewhere.”
“Fuck,” Josh said. He flung his empty soda can in the direction of the waste basket and watched as it bounced off the wall and rolled back toward him. “Fuck.”
“Hey, this is good, though,” the stylist said leaning down and picking up the can to toss it into the garbage. “It means you’ll be able to shower again regularly like a human being!” She tried to make the whole thing sound better than it was, but she knew that nobody said that this was going to be easy.
Josh shrugged. He didn’t have the energy to think about this or even to care about it anymore. All of his plans and every thought spinning around in his head were just completely useless. He would just sign in, do what he had to do and hopefully get released as soon as humanly possible. If he got better and stayed better, great. If not…well…he didn’t want to think about it yet.
The nurse walked in, interrupting their strained conversation. Everyone watched as Josh signed the release paperwork setting him free from these white walls, knowing that he would be trapped behind four different but similar walls in a very short amount of time.
Since he had nothing with him except antibiotic medications and his discharge papers, which he had stuffed into his pockets, the group walked out of the hospital without a second thought. The rain had eased a bit by now, but it was still wretched, cold, make-your-hair-frizz-middle-of-autumn weather. Josh didn’t seem to notice. He let Mike and Ian lead the way to the vehicle they had rented and he climbed straight into the back seat and scrunched himself against the far door after slamming the first one closed behind him. He was sulking, but only because he was so tired of thinking about everything. He was sick to death of the whole fucking thing.
Josh watched through the windshield as Mike and Ian stood talking to Matt and the stylist. The stylist pointed toward the car in Josh’s direction once or twice while talking, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. His lip reading skills left a little to be desired, but mostly it was difficult because the mist on the glass blurred their faces. He squinted, but that didn’t help. He hated being talked about while he was sitting right fucking there.
Eventually Josh saw the stylist hug Mike, then Ian. She looked over at Josh and saw him watching her through the window. She offered him a small smile and waved a bit. He just stared back at her and watched her and Matt back toward the building. He actually wondered if he’d ever see her again. He only tore his eyes away from her when the car swayed a bit as the two front doors were opened and the bassist and the drummer slid in and closed the doors behind them.
Turning the car on and cranking up the heat, Ian turned back to Josh and said, “She and Matt are going to meet us there. We were just discussing the directions on the paperwork the nurse gave you, which you so conveniently stuck in your pocket. I hope I don’t get us lost. Matt’s gonna go call for a cab and then he and the stylist are gonna go rent a car as well. The one thing we didn’t pack was your acoustic guitar. Matt thought you’d want it, so they’re gonna go back to the bus to get it and then they’ll meet us there.”
Josh gave Matt a lot of credit. He remembered that Josh had really used his guitar to help get him through all of this fucking shit the first time around and Josh was glad he was as thoughtful now. “Okay,” he said quietly. He hadn’t looked up at Ian, but kept his eyes focused on the brick building with the big blue sign that he had just stepped out of. It looked daunting on the outside. It wasn’t a hell of a lot of fun on the inside either, but at least it was less scary than it had seemed. He hoped the treatment center had the same vibe. He sighed quietly and ran his finger through the fog his breath made on the glass. He spelled “HELP” backwards in the condensation and then wiped his hand through it before sitting back against the seat and closing his eyes.
Ian pulled out of the parking lot and they were on their way. There was no turning back now. Mike turned in his seat to look back at Josh. “You doing okay, man? Do you need anything?” Josh only shook his head. “Okay, well, if you wanna stop for anything, just say the word. We’ve technically got until the end of the day to get there.” Josh nodded in response this time.
Mike had turned on the radio, which had less than stellar reception at best for most of the hour long drive it took to get to the Greater Good Behavioural Health Center where Josh would be spending the next few weeks. But Josh would always remember the song playing through the speakers as they pulled into the parking lot for the first time. “Take it to the limit, one more time…” he mouthed the final words to the song as Ian turned off the ignition.
“Well, what do you wanna do, man? You wanna sit here and wait for Matt to rent the car, go back for your guitar and meet us here or do you wanna go in and start getting settled?” Ian stuffed the keys to the car in his pocket and turned back to look at Josh.
Josh would have given everything to turn back the clock several days to avoid this whole mess, but instead he said, “I wanna wait.” He saw Mike and Ian exchange a look that said they’d rather not spend over an hour in a small rental car trying to make small talk, but they’d do it anyway. If they could drive for eighteen hours in below freezing weather in a van that continually broke down to get to a show that paid them a grand total of one hundred dollars, they could easily wait out that short amount of time in the car.
“Want the radio back on?” Mike asked. He looked at Josh in the rear-view mirror this time.
Josh shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Don’t bother.” That was the extent of the conversational skills he was willing to waste.
Mike sighed quietly. So much for getting his friend to talk. “Okay, just let me know if you do. Or if you want anything.” Josh didn’t even acknowledge this statement. He knew they were only being this nice to him because they were about to ditch his ass and they felt guilty. Any other day they would have told him to fuck off and fend for himself, jokingly, of course, but that’s how the conversations usually went. Now they were doing exactly what he hated. They were being so fucking polite and trying to avoid talking about the real situation at hand. Josh didn’t want to talk about it by any means, but it was the elephant in the room, so to speak, and it felt worse to dodge it. Rather than saying anything, he let it go.
Instead, to occupy his time, Josh kept his gaze fixed on what was going on outside. He watched a mother and a father and what looked like a seventeen year old kid walking into the building. The woman had a grip on the teenager’s sleeve so tight that he swore he could see how white her knuckles were. Josh felt for the guy. He’d been there. Hell, he WAS there. He also wondered what the problem was that brought him there. Maybe he’d be social and make nice with that kid in particular. As little as Josh had wanted to do with other people when he was in a Center like this at that age, he still thought it might have been nice to have a friend there. He was a surly, sullen little fucker at that age, even moreso than he was now, and he was sure this kid, dressed all in black…of course…would feel the same way. He highly doubted that the kid would want some ‘old dude’ trying to tell him that shit got better or that things would change or giving him advice, especially since it would be coming from someone that was also admitted into the Center, but Josh had made up his mind to try anyway. Hell, it might help take his own mind off his problems for a while. He watched the younger version of himself drag his feet, scuffing his shoes along the pavement, deliberately walking as slowly as he could, letting everyone get soaked in the rain. His hair was a bit too long and it covered his eyes. Josh saw so much of himself there that it was spooky. He visibly shivered thinking of ghosts past.
Eventually Mike’s cell phone rang breaking through Josh’s thoughts. He listened in on Mike’s end of the conversation and quickly figured out that he was talking to either Matt or the stylist. “Uh- huh…yes…no, make a left at that light. You should see it as soon as you make the turn. Yeah. We can see you from where we’re parked. Okay, okay, bye.”
“That was Matt,” he said, confirming Josh’s assumption. “They’re right across the street at that intersection and they should be here as soon as the light turns green.” Mike turned his phone off and stuck it into his pocket.
Josh sat up and stared through the window again, watching as a small silver Dodge, similar to the one he was sitting in, pulled into the parking lot and slowly drove between the rows of parked cars to find Ian’s rented one. Matt was driving and the stylist was pointing at their vehicle. He pulled into a parking spot near Ian’s and killed the ignition before they both got out and walked over to the rest of the group.
Mike and Ian slid out of their seats in the front, leaving Josh alone in the back seat again. He wanted to wait until the last possible minute to get out. While he waited, he watched two more families drag their miserable looking offspring into the building. Both mothers were crying. Josh felt a sudden tightness in his chest when he realized that his own mother would have to be told that he was back in one of these fucking places again. At least he was sober this time, he kept telling himself. It was his only saving grace.
Eventually the door Josh was leaning against pulled open and he had to grab the handle to keep from falling on his face. Matt stood outside his window with Josh’s luggage stacked around his feet. He held the guitar case in his hand. “You ready, man? Might as well go get this over with.”
Josh rolled his eyes and flipped his hair down into his eyes. He climbed out of the car and stretched his legs a bit. Tossing his messenger bag across his body, he leaned down to pick up one of his bags. He stood to survey the building and the grounds in front of him. Ignoring the rain, he took in his surroundings. Everything was so neutrally coloured. The grass was brown because of the season. The buildings were all a tan brick colour; even the sign on the building had coffee coloured letters. He supposed it was for a calming effect, but it didn’t help him at all.
Matt grabbed another one of Josh’s suitcases in addition to the guitar case, Mike was carrying the largest suitcase and Ian grabbed the last two smaller bags. The stylist stepped up next to Josh and slid her hand into his free one. Mike, Ian and Matt walked ahead of the stylist by several paces. Josh kept his eyes on the sidewalk in front of him. Quietly, keeping the conversation between the two of them, the stylist asked, “Doing okay there, darlin’?”
Josh nodded. “As well as I could be, I guess.”
“Good. This’ll be good for you, you know? It’ll end all of this negative stuff for you, once and for all. No more hiding, no more secrets,” she said, sounding hopeful. Josh didn’t know what it was, but something in her voice gave him a bit of faith too.
Josh hesitated when he reached the glass doors to the building. He knew the sounds, the sights and the smells of these places by heart now. It wasn’t anything he would forget. He’d open the door and there would be a hushed quiet tone, kind of like a cross between the quiet of a library and the quiet you become when you’re on your best behaviour and trying to make nice in front of important people you barely know. First impressions, best foot forward…all that stupid crap. Everything in there would be some shade of brown as well. It would smell like desperation and cleaning chemicals. Josh was sure of all of this, without question. He only had to open the door to prove it.
The stylist let go of his hand and took a step back to join Mike, Ian and Matt. They had silently and collectively decided to let Josh make the move to enter the building first. Josh stuck his hand out, grabbed the metal handle on the door and yanked it open. There was a strong current of warm air that enveloped them. Just as Josh remembered, the smell of cleanser and the stink of desperation hit him hard. No one else realized that but him, except maybe Matt. He had been in the last Center to visit Josh often enough that he might notice.
Josh took a deep breath, inadvertently inhaling the scents that stuck out in his memory so well, and took a step into the building. The rest of the group followed him in and let the door close behind them. Immediately the nurse on duty at the desk looked up at him and smiled. He could see her eyes quickly scan over the group and settle back on him. He must be in worse shape than he realized if she could pick him out of the entire group as the one who needed help. He reached up and pulled his sunglasses off. He hadn’t really needed them due to the overcast, rainy day, but they were in his jacket pocket when he was brought to the hospital the night before and he often used them to hide behind when he was feeling particularly shy or not quite right. He tucked the earpiece inside his shirt and let the glasses hang from the collar.
Josh felt a hand against his shoulder as Mike gently urged him forward. They approached the desk and the smiling nurse. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mike replied with his own signature smile, “we’re here to check this guy in.” He patted Josh on the shoulder. Josh stared down at the desk, which was covered with forms and files and an outdated computer. He wondered if the place had an internet connection he could use so he could at least send messages to the people he cared about to keep from getting too lonely. Rain dripped from his hair and the tip of his nose onto the desk as he stared down at the papers cluttering the counter.
“Ah! You must be…?” the nurse asked as she picked up the pile of paperwork in front of Josh and shuffled it, glancing at pictures on files.
“Josh,” Mike answered for him. “Joshua Ramsay.”
“I have your file right here!” She pulled out a thick file, filled with Josh’s past and present. “We’ve been notified to expect you and we have a room all ready for you. You just have to fill out and sign these forms and you’ll be all set to start your recovery process!” The nurse sounded way too cheerful for Josh and he just wanted her to shut her mouth and go away. Instead, he filled out and signed every piece of paper she stuck under his nose and slowly watched as his freedoms were stripped away. He dug the referral forms from the hospital out of his pockets and handed them over when he was done signing.
When the last bit of information was filled out, she stuck all of his paperwork along with copies he’d get when he was released, into his manila envelope and filed that away into a locked metal cabinet behind her. “Now I’m going to take you to your room and after that, a nurse will go through your things to make sure you haven’t shown up with anything dangerous, and then you’ll have to do a drug test. When that’s finished, a doctor will examine you and we’ll go from there, okay?” She smiled again. He finally looked up at her instead of at his feet and nodded. “Any questions?”
“Umm…,” Josh wasn’t sure if he could think that fast right now, but there were two important things on his mind. “Can I keep my guitar?”
“You need a psych evaluation and the doctor will decide that a bit later on. For now, we’ll keep it locked up here behind my desk. If it’s determined later on that you can have it, you can come back and get it. If not, we’ll keep it along with anything else we may have to confiscate locked up back here so it’ll be safe for the duration of your stay. Anything else?” The nurse took his guitar from Matt and it disappeared behind her desk just as she said. Josh heard the unmistakable click of a lock and the jingle of keys. The nurse was now looking a bit impatient because he knew she had to answer these things on a routine basis. He knew how old it got to repeat the same speeches, or, in his case songs, over and over again.
“Yeah,” Josh said tentatively, “can these guys stick around for a while?” He motioned with his hand to the rest of the band and the stylist.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ramsay, but they’ll have to get going. The sooner we have you all checked in and settled, the sooner we can start getting you better!” The nurse’s smile wavered a bit because she knew some patients could get hostile when told ‘no’ about this kind of thing.
He accepted her answer, even though he wasn’t happy about it. He knew what she would say before he asked, but he tried anyway. It was times like this when he thought maybe, just maybe being a known musician…being a cute known musician…would let him get his way. But Josh wasn’t wrong when he thought he knew the answer. “Okay, can I at least say goodbye first?”
“Sure, take a couple of minutes to do that and then we’ll go get you settled.” The nurse-in-pink, as he was starting to think of her, stepped back behind her desk and busied herself on the computer to give them a bit of privacy.
Josh turned to face his friends. “I don’t want you guys to go. I don’t wanna stay here,” he said quietly.
“We know, man, we know. But hey…give it a few weeks and you’ll be outta here. We’ll see each other again,” Matt said finally putting Josh’s bag down with the others. He had avoided letting go of it for as long as he could, as if holding it would somehow delay Josh from leaving. The rest of the band didn’t want to see Josh in this place any more than Josh wanted to stay, but everyone knew it was the only choice.
“Matt’s right,” Ian said stepping up to Josh and giving him a quick pat on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. You’ll get through it.”
Josh surprised Ian and hugged him tightly before the drummer could step away. Mike wrapped his arms around both men and soon Matt and the stylist had encircled Josh and had their arms around him as well. “I love you guys,” Josh said. “Don’t forget about me, okay?” He sounded genuinely concerned that he would be forgotten.
When each person let go and took a step back, Mike looked at the singer and smiled. “How could you ever possibly be forgotten? It would be way too much trouble to find another lead singer. Sure, whoever we got would be better than you…he’d have to be…but it’s too much work to break in a new band member.”
Josh laughed quietly and shoved Mike. “You ass…” Boys, the stylist thought and rolled her eyes.
She broke from the group and walked over to the nurse’s desk. “Are we allowed to visit at all?” She asked quietly enough that Josh couldn’t overhear.
“There are controlled visits allowed, yes. You just need to check in with us daily via phone call first to see how Josh is doing and what’s going on for that day and if everything checks out, we can give you the go-ahead to come visit. Immediately upon entering the building, you’ll be checked for dangerous items,” the nurse responded, running off a list of harmful things that could be detrimental to Josh’s recovery, “and you’ll each need to be drug tested every time you leave and re-enter the property.”
The stylist nodded, thanked the nurse and returned to the group. “The nurse said we can call to check up on Josh. If he’s doing well and the day isn’t too busy, we can drop in for a visit as long as we have the okay.”
“Well, man, it sounds like we’ll be visiting you as often as we can. The better you do, it sounds like the better our chances of visiting are,” Ian said, shrugging his shoulders.
This was the first Josh had heard of any of this plan. He had assumed all along that he would get dropped off and left for dead, so to speak. “Wait. You’re…gonna stay? Here? Seriously? Where? We’re a weeks’ drive away from home and who knows how long I’m gonna be here?” Josh was amazed that his friends cared enough about him to want to put their lives on hold when they didn’t have to just for him. He almost couldn’t believe they would be so willing to spend time away from their friends and families when he was the reason they couldn’t tour anymore for the season.
Mike smiled at Josh. “Hey, man, you’re gonna need visitors and you’re gonna need people to be here for you, you know? We’re those people. We worked it out with the bus driver. We can actually still live on the bus. We agreed to chip in and fly him, the publicist, the tour manager…,” Mike’s voice dropped a bit, “…and Brett…back home with an open-ended ticket and then the driver will fly back out here to drive us home again once you’re free.” Matt, Ian and the stylist all nodded in agreement. “Ian and I came up with this last night and let the two of them,” he said motioning to the guitar player and the stylist, “in on it when you were sitting in the car by yourself outside the hospital. We decided that you needed us more than anyone else did.”
“But…why? I mean…how can you just…do that?” Josh couldn’t wrap his head what he had just heard.
“Dude, plain and simple, you’re going through shit right now and none of us wanted to drop you and leave you. We couldn’t.” Ian rocked back on his heels a bit before smiling at Josh. “We may be sort of disappointed in your actions, but it doesn’t mean we stopped caring about you, remember?”
“Thanks, guys. I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you. I really don’t.” Josh looked and sounded completely astonished. Everyone had been trying to tell him how much they cared about him but he was just so stubborn that he couldn’t figure it out. He knew it had to be true, but he supposed he needed more tangible reasons to believe it. Now he had the answer he needed and he was overwhelmed. “I love you guys.”
He looked up and caught the nurse staring at him somewhat impatiently. “I guess I should go…” Josh leaned down to pick up two of his bags as he watched his friends wave goodbye to him and wish him well as they walked back through those same glass doors. He waited until he couldn’t see them anymore before turning back to the nurse.
“Ready?” she asked, stepping back around the desk and helping him with his bags. When he nodded, she took the lead and brought him to his room. It was the first room down the hallway to his right. He could remember that, especially since there was a small plaque with his name on it for the convenience of the staff.
Once inside the room, as promised, the nurse-in-pink sent another nurse to go through his things. His shaving kit was taken after he was allowed to clean himself up for the first time in two days, even when he protested that he looked like a child molester with facial hair. She promised that he’d get it back once a day with supervision so that he could “primp”. Josh rolled his eyes, but it was better than nothing. After that, he was sent to the bathroom for a urine test to make sure he truly was drug-free like he’d been telling everyone he was. It was an inconvenience for him, but it’s not like he had anything better to do. He passed the drug test as he knew he would. The nurse told him to ‘hang tight’ in his room and that she’d be back to get him for a physical and psychological exam by a doctor as soon as the doctor was available.
Once he was alone, Josh looked around the room. He had the place to himself, thank god. There was a queen sized bed with the most awful brown striped quilt that he had ever seen. The floor was hardwood and he supposed that was for convenience as well. It was probably easier to clean up after anyone who couldn’t make it out of bed to puke, he thought, very quickly flashing back to his previous stay in a place like this. Running his hand along the small dresser, he glanced up into the mirror. His black eyes were now a sickly shade of yellow and purple, but at least that was slowly starting to fade. He caught sight of a small table behind him. Perfect, he could sit in his room and write, if he was lucky enough to be able to use this experience the same way he did last time. He already knew that his room had a private bathroom and a shower, so that was a positive as well.
Sighing heavily with submission, he turned and flung himself backwards onto the bed and laid there with his hands folded across his stomach and his feet firmly planted on the floor. He stared at the ceiling and waited for an hour without moving. It was so quiet here compared to tour bus life or even the hospital. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to sleep or get used to all of this loud silence.
Eventually the nurse came to get him and Josh sat through the physical exam. Once again, he nodded along when the doctor went through the same questions he had already been asked over and over again by his friends and the doctor at the hospital. Then he was sent off to a psychological exam where he continued to recount the same stories. Josh had lost track of how many times he’d explained himself. By now, he felt almost detached from everything and could retell the stories with little to no emotion. Both doctors wanted to discuss his self-harm and he showed off his homemade incisions for the second and third times that day. Each doctor looked at him with pity in their eyes, but both promised that he’d be fine. He wasn’t sure if he believed them fully, but he agreed anyway.
When Josh was released from the last doctor’s care for the time being, he was told that he could go back to his room or roam around to get the feel of the place. Everything was playing out exactly as it had been ten years ago. He was having flashbacks left and right, but at least it meant that he knew what to expect, so it wasn’t altogether a bad thing. What he really wanted to do was to make a phone call to hear familiar safe voices telling him that he would be okay. He knew that he had just left the band a couple of hours ago, but he already missed them so much. He wanted to call anyone from the band, any of his friends back home…even if it meant breaking the bad news that he was back in a behavioural health center, his parents…anyone at all that he cared about. Unfortunately, when he was admitted, they took his cell phone as was the policy for everyone -something about wanting him to focus on getting better and not spending his entire time on the phone. It sucked but Josh understood.
At the moment, he couldn’t focus on anything. He felt jumpy and jittery. He was crawling out of his own skin trying to find a comfort zone. That meant he couldn’t sit and play the guitar, even if he had it in his hands, and he certainly couldn’t sit and write, so he chose to make use of his time by checking out the place he’d be calling ‘home’ for the next several weeks, at least. The first room he stuck his head into contained two women who were about his age, perhaps a bit younger. One was a dyed redhead and one was a brunette who reminded him very much of his stylist in the way she wore her hair and even her mannerisms. Josh decided to wander in and introduce himself.
“Uh…hi,” Josh said, walking further into the room. The girls were sitting at a round table and had a deck of cards in front of them. He could use his “radio magic show” joke to break the ice if he had to.
The redhead didn’t bother looking up, but she offered a quiet “hello” to him. The brunette glanced up and smiled. Suddenly her eyes went wide. Fuck, she recognized him. Shit! He mentally prepared himself as fast as he could. She jumped up out of her seat covering her mouth while she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a scream. Josh smiled warily. “Um…nice to meet you too,” he said.
The brunet screamed again and bounced on her toes. “You’re…you’re…” She could barely get the words out.
“Yeah, I’m…I’m…,” Josh teased back. By now his smile was genuine. He was worried that he’d get this reaction. Not because he was so egotistical that he knew he’d be recognized, but because the last thing he wanted was for any of his fans to know he’d fucked his life up again. He wanted to keep this as quiet as possible, but his life seemed to follow Murphy’s Law lately, so he knew something was bound to happen. He stuck his hands into his back pockets so she wouldn’t notice the bandage around his injured palm and wrist, which was mostly covered by the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt anyway. He just didn’t want to risk it.
“Ohmygod! Ican’tbelieveit’syou!” She spoke so quickly that Josh almost couldn’t understand anything she said. However, he had heard girls say this to him before and it sounded familiar enough that he caught on rather quickly.
“Ican’tbelieveit’syoueither!” Josh laughed as the brunette’s eyes got even wider when he picked on her. She blushed and dropped her hands back down to her sides.
“Jesus, I’m sorry. You probably didn’t want that to happen.”
“”Jesus”,” said Josh, “I’ll take it. I’ve been called “Rock God”, “God Damnit, Ramsay”, “Fucking Christ, You Asshole” and “Good Lord, Josh”, but never “Jesus”.” He laughed again as he watched her trying to figure out whether he was serious or not. He rarely was and now that he had an audience who didn’t know him well, he could easily slip back into being the comedian he was when he was on stage.
The brunette grinned at him. “Well then, that’s your new nickname for the duration. It saves me from having to ask you if I can call you Josh or if I have to be all fucking respectful and call you Mister Ramsay.”
The redhead sitting at the table finally looked up at the pair. When she heard the brunette mention the man’s name, she knew exactly who this woman was making such a big deal about. “Ugh, it IS you,” she said and glared up at the tall blond male.
The brunette, who had since introduced herself as Portia, and Josh turned to look down at the redhead, who was still seated at the table. “Yeah, do I know you? Have we met?” Portia motioned to the extra chair at the table and the two sat.
The redhead leaned across the table toward Josh. “Yeah, we have. I actually went to one of your fucking concerts a year ago. You played in a local arena in Vancouver, the Vogue Theater, and I was really looking forward to that fucking concert. When it was over, you totally snubbed me and my friends. You were the world’s biggest douche. You refused to sign anything and you refused to take pictures with me. You said you had “had to go”,” the redhead said mocking him in a slightly higher pitched voice. “And just so you know, you looked like shit in that latest video, you fat fucking wasted has-been.”
“I…umm…,” Josh stuttered, “are…are you sure that was me?” He knew he could be a little impatient, a little sassy and a little overbooked and busy sometimes, but he tried not to be rude. He wracked his brain trying to remember ever acting like that that to anyone and he just couldn’t. Unless people were extremely offensive to him, he always tried to make time for them. He wanted to chalk it all up to this girl not having a good time at his concert for some reason, but wait… what had she said last? God…here was another person telling him the same thing that started all of his problems in the first place.
Before things got any worse for Josh, he shoved his chair back and stood. “I have to go,” he said quietly and quickly walked out of the room without waiting for the redhead’s response. Portia tried to stop him but he brushed her off and kept his pace as he headed toward the quiet safety of his own room.
Shit, a nurse. “Everything okay Josh?” she asked.
He kept his head down and his hands in his pockets. “Yep. Just fine. Just feeling a little tired. It’s been a vagina of-…it’s been a long day,” he explained, amending his typical response to something more appropriate and less offensive for one of the very few times in his life.
“Well, okay. Come find someone if you need to talk.” She patted his shoulder and let him continue on his way. Unlikely, he thought.
Once in his room, Josh tried to lock the door behind him, but found there was no lock. Of course. “Fucking safety reasons,” he mumbled to himself. Instead, he slid down the door and sat against it with his legs folded under him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He bent forward and leaned his head into his hands. “Day fucking one…HOUR fucking one and I’m already in trouble. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I CAN’T FUCKING DO THIS.” He took a deep breath, then another. His whole body was shaking. All of the urges to tear into his flesh were back but he didn’t have a damn thing to use. He didn’t even have his guitar with him yet. It hadn’t been decided whether he was stable enough to have it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew it was a good thing he didn’t have it with him because he would have torn the strings off and used those to slice into his body if he had to.
“AAAHHHH!!!” he growled for the second time that day. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay,” Josh repeated to himself over and over again like a mantra. “No I’m not. No. I’m. NOT. I’m not fucking okay. I can’t do this.”
There was a knock on his door and he jumped, scrambling out of the way. Josh climbed to his feet and stared at the door as if he expected it to open. “Jesus?” asked the voice from the other side. Portia.
“What?” Josh asked warily. His hands were balled into fists at his sides and he was still shaking, although he wasn’t sure exactly why.
“Can I come in?”
He would have to learn to trust someone sometime. But why did it have to be now? Josh reached out and turned the doorknob, pulling the door open. He already knew that if anyone else was in the room with him the rules said that the door was to stay open, so he let his hand drop back down to his side as he stepped out of the way to let her in. “Yeah…come in. Sit. Mi casa es su casa.” He butchered the Spanish language in an attempt to make light of his personal panic, even though she obviously wasn’t really aware of how he was feeling.
Portia walked in and sat in the chair at the small table they each had in their rooms. Josh sat on the far corner of his bed facing her. “What can I do for you?” He faked being okay and put on the act he used for his audiences. It was times like this that he was glad he was such a good actor. He still didn’t know her angle but he knew she was a fan and that alone was enough for him to keep his guard up.
“Look, I just wanted to apologize for Carrie. I barely know her, but I already know that she’s…not the easiest person to get along with. I don’t know what happened at that concert, but I’m not inclined to believe her story very much. She has this stupid fucking habit of making everything sound so much worse than it ever was. I’m not taking sides, but I also don’t want you to think we were both ganging up on you. So…I’m sorry. Avoid her if you want, but please don’t think I had anything to do with it.” She looked at Josh and for the first time, she noticed his black eye. She wondered if that was part of why he was here.
“Hey, thanks…it’s fine. It’s okay. Jesus will rise to live another day,” he joked. He cracked a smile and flexed his arms in the most masculine pose he could muster. Unfortunately, he forgot about his bandaged hand and arm and he gave Portia a good look at that before he embarrassingly shoved his sleeve back into place.
Portia had sense enough not to draw attention to Josh’s arm or his black eye. She had enough stories of her own that she wouldn’t want to speak about to someone she just met. “You’re doing okay?” She seemed concerned enough, but he still felt guarded.
“Yeah,” Josh said playing with the cuff of his shirt and avoiding eye contact. “I’m fine.” Suddenly he was feeling extremely self-conscious and he needed to be by himself.
“And, we’re good? We’re okay?”
“Yeah,” he said again. “We’re fine. We’re okay. Thanks for dropping in.”
He hoped that Portia would take the hint and leave on her own accord.
Luckily enough, she was a smart girl who seemed to pick up on Josh’s mood shift and stood. She gave him a small smile before leaving the room. She acted as if she had wanted to stay for just a bit longer, but she respected his privacy and gave him the space he needed.
Once Portia had gone, Josh got up and shut the door behind her. He turned to his bags and started to unpack. He was grateful that his room had a dresser and, despite where he was, he realized it would be nice to not have to live out of a suitcase for a while, so he was going to make use of it. Plus, Mike and Ian had packed his shit and he didn’t know where anything was.
His clothes were unpacked and put away first. Then he discovered his laptop and his iPod as well as everything else he owned that he had brought on tour with him. The only thing he hadn’t been able to find was his notebook. He needed that, especially. That was where he wrote every song idea. Fuck, it had to be there somewhere! He frantically rifled through everything a second time. Then again. Finally he found it. He realized it had been on top of his clothing in his suitcase and he had taken it out and set it aside before he started unpacking everything else. Fucking idiot, he thought to himself. But at least it was there. Now he could write. He already had one bad experience here that he could draw inspiration from and he might as well turn it into something if he could.
Josh flung the notebook onto the table and scrounged around in his bags for something to write with and came up empty. No pens, no pencils…nothing in the drawers in the room either. He’d have to venture out of his safety net of a room to ask for one. How much did he truly want to write? Fuck it. Josh opened the door and peeked around a bit. How stupid did he feel? The answer was, extremely. He just didn’t want to run into anyone again. He wasn’t ready after what happened earlier. Plus, he had ideas running through his head now and he didn’t want to be derailed. He made it to the nurses’ station without incident and got his pen.
Once Josh was back in his room with the door shut, he sat at the table. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and hunched over his notebook. He had musical chords and stanzas as well as lyrics swimming around in his mind and he needed to get them down before he forgot them. He charted the music first and then he set to work on the lyrics. “If I could give it up/If I could give it away/ If I could make a change/ I could probably live for one more day…” Josh stuck the pen in his mouth and contemplated either changing the pronoun to “we” or getting rid of it completely. Fuck it, he could tweak it later. “Never meant to be a king/ Never meant to wear the crown/Only meant to play the fool/Only meant to please the crowd…” He sat back and sighed. Not bad.
Another knock at his door caught his attention. God, he hoped it wasn’t that Carrie chick. He wasn’t at all in the mood to deal with her. “Josh? It’s dinner time. Come eat.” A nurse. Dinner. Fuck. He hadn’t eaten in two days…or was it three now? Ian had bought all of that breakfast stuff for him earlier and he hadn’t touched any of it except the soda. He still didn’t feel hungry, but he knew he had to try to eat something or he’d never get out of this place.
“Coming,” he answered. Shit, he felt like he was back home at his parents’ house, being forced to eat under their supervision. Some things never change, he thought with some irritation.
Josh made it through dinner, but it was as excruciating and annoying as he thought it would be. He was required to eat meatloaf, potatoes and corn. It wasn’t a meal he minded on a regular day when he wasn’t in the middle of a bulimic relapse, but this time he had to continually force himself not to gag each time he stuck the fork into his mouth. This wasn’t how he wanted to live his life, but he could barely handle one meal. Everyone kept telling him “baby steps” all through dinner and he wanted to strangle the next person who said it. Somehow, through some miracle, Josh managed to eat everything he was forced to eat.
Josh’s dinner tray was collected, finally, and he was allowed to leave the dining area. His stomach hurt, but that was probably because tonight he had eaten his first full meal in weeks, or so he thought. The minute he stood, he turned and lost everything he had eaten into a trash can. Fuck…he really hoped he’d be okay. He really thought he could fake it. The act made his eyes tear and his nose run. Josh wiped his eyes with his sleeve and gave a humiliated look to everyone around him, including the two nurses who watched it happen.
The nurse-in-pink who checked him in walked over to him and gently patted his back. “Want something to settle your stomach?” she asked quietly.
Josh nodded and folded his arms across his body. The nurse walked away and came back with a small plastic cup containing two green tablets and a bottle of water. She watched as he swallowed the medications and then told him to go back to his room to rest. He was grateful that he didn’t have to interact with anyone after that.
Back in his room after he brushed his teeth to get the taste of being sick out of his mouth, he curled up on his bed and hugged his pillow to his chest. He wished he didn’t have to be alone. He wished he was back on the tour bus listening to Ian complain about long hours and how Matt sometimes snored so loudly that no one could sleep, and he wanted to hear Mike talk about being homesick and Matt teasing him about being a big baby. And Josh himself would be laughing about it all, throwing little underhanded, sarcastic comments in wherever he could. He missed his stylist and her gentle ways. He even missed her harsher tones when she was calling him out on his bullshit and making him talk about things he didn’t want to think about, let alone admit. He had taken all of that daily, monotonous stuff for granted recently, but now he’d have given anything to go back and live those moments over and over again instead of being trapped in this place without them. He was already so fucking lonely and he still had such a long way to go.
Minutes turned into hours and Josh eventually fell asleep with thoughts of music and his tour bus, along with a very irate Brett dancing through his dreams. It wasn’t at all a restful sleep and he woke up numerous times throughout the night, but he eventually made it to morning. He was woken up by a nurse telling him that it was time to get up and get ready because breakfast would be served in half an hour and then he had a group therapy session to go to. She handed over his shaving kit and stood at the bathroom door while she watched him get rid of the five o’clock shadow he had grown overnight. He handed the kit back to her and she left the room to let him finish getting ready.
Breakfast was uneventful, as far as Josh was concerned. He ate slowly and the cereal he was served was oddly easy on his stomach, so he felt much better than he did the previous evening. He even went as far as to grab a pear from the fruit basket and swallow most that before he set off for the group meeting. Small steps. He could do this.
Josh showed up to the meeting a bit early. He was one of the first people there. By pure coincidence, the only others in the room were Portia, Carrie -Josh rolled his eyes when he saw her- and the teenage kid he had seen in the parking lot and had vowed to himself to make friends with before he left. Josh chose the seat closest to the wall and farthest away from everyone in the room. He really wasn’t ready to talk to anyone. It was way too early in the morning. Had he still been touring, he would have just been crawling into his bunk and trying to fall asleep around now. There should be a law against eight a.m., Josh thought to himself irritably.
He kept his head down but his eyes focused on the teenager. He watched as the kid kept running his hand through his shaggy blond hair over and over again. It was a nervous trait that Josh knew so well. The kid also continually pulled at the cuffs of his shirt as if trying to hide something. Another random little tic that Josh had also made use of quite often in his life. It wasn’t until Josh was older and Ian had pointed it out to him that he even knew he had those habits, but there they were nonetheless.
He was just about to get up and go sit next to the younger version of himself on a couch across the room when Portia dropped into the chair next to him startling him. “Jesus fucking Christ!” Josh yelled and jumped. “Don’t fucking do that!”
She smiled at him and apologized, but the glint in her eye said that she had enjoyed scaring the one and only Josh Ramsay, Jesus Rock God. “It’s just that I wanted to see how you were doing…you know…after yesterday.” Josh wasn’t quite sure what she was referring to. Being dropped off, left alone and having to figure out how to deal with his first day? Being verbally attacked by that vicious redheaded bitch when he tried to let his guard down? Puking in front of everyone right after dinner?
“Umm…I’m fine, I guess,” he said, speaking generally. “I woke up and I was still here, so that’s about the best I can tell you.” Josh was feeling extremely sarcastic this morning, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t drink coffee, he hadn’t had any caffeine at all, it was too early for him, he didn’t want to be here and he still missed his friends.
Josh decided to change the subject. He tilted his chin subtly in the direction of the teenager he had been studying before Portia had flung herself into the seat beside him and scared the shit out of him. “What’s his deal?” he asked her quietly. She seemed to have been in the Center for a while and he didn’t even know why she was there either, but he was more focused on getting to know the kid who mirrored himself so much.
She shrugged and slouched down in her seat, leaning her head in closer to Josh’s. “I dunno. He just showed up yesterday, same as you. He went straight into his room and only came out for dinner, then he went straight back without talking to anyone, pretty much like you did. I don’t even know his name.”
By then, the doctor leading the session had walked in and gathered everyone together. It was time to “share their thoughts,” as he had put it.
The session lasted for an hour and in that time Josh had learned exactly nothing about himself that he didn’t already know. But he did learn that the sullen, quiet teenager had a name and it was Dawson. And he learned that Dawson was very, very angry.
After the session was dismissed, Josh watched as Dawson slipped out the door before anyone else. Josh shoved himself out of his seat without a word and jogged to the exit. He caught sight of the teenager rounding the corner and ran to catch up with him. “Hey, hang on!” Josh yelled to Dawson, who stopped in his tracks and turned around. He glared at the older man and jammed his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt.
“What?” asked Dawson flatly. The last thing he wanted to do was exchange words of any kind with the man following him.
“I just wanna talk. I’m Josh,” he said introducing himself. Dawson was only a couple of inches shorter than Josh was, but he refused to meet Josh’s eyes.
“So?”
“So…I just thought it might be nice to make a fucking friend or two. You know…rather than being stuck in this hole by myself.” Josh spoke as vaguely as he could without trying to give it away early on that he wanted to save this kid from the same destruction that he was going through.
“Dude, you’re like…twice my age. What are you, a fucking pedophile?” Jesus, this kid was angry.
Josh laughed forcibly. He was sort of pissed about the question, but he let it slide. He might have been a lot of things, but that was not one of them. “Fuck no. Like I said, I’m just trying to make a few friends while I’m here. I don’t know if you realize this or not, but it’s fucking boring having no one around to talk to. I’ve only been here for a day and I’m already bored as shit. I’m used to having my ban-…my friends around all the time and now…?” Josh shrugged. He had almost said “band”, but caught himself at the last minute. He wouldn’t give that away unless he chose to, which reminded him of something. He had to talk to Portia and explain to her that he didn’t want it spread around that he was the lead singer for a band. He hoped Carrie-the-bitch wouldn’t say anything either.
Dawson shrugged too. “Fine, man, whatever. You wanna tag along, be my guest. I don’t give a fuck. Just don’t piss me off.”
“Hey, same here. Don’t piss me off and I won’t piss you off. Deal?”
Dawson shrugged his shoulders again and started to walk off in the direction of his room. Josh took a step to follow when he heard someone calling his name. “Josh! There you are. I was going to tell you this earlier at the meeting but you left before I could catch you.” There was the nurse-in-pink carrying his guitar case. “The doctors felt that it would be better for you to have this than to be without it, so here you go!” She handed his guitar over to him and he had never been so happy to see that fucking thing in his entire life.
When he looked up, he saw that Dawson had stopped and was watching Josh out of the corner of his eye. Josh grinned at him and Dawson dropped his gaze to the guitar case. “Musician?” he asked, nodding at the case dangling from Josh’s hand.
“Uh, something like that,” Josh answered, raising the guitar a bit.
“You any good?”
“I’ve played for a few people in my time.” At this rate, Josh might have to reveal his little secret to Dawson after all. “Can you keep a secret?”
Dawson shrugged. It seemed to be his go-to gesture.
“Well, then I won’t fuckin’ tell you,” Josh said, changing his course and turning to walk towards his room.
Dawson hung back a bit, but followed Josh down the hallway. Once they were almost to Josh’s room, Dawson finally said, “Yeah, I can keep a fucking secret.”
Josh opened the door to his room, walked in and set his guitar gently on the bed he had re-made before he left the place an hour and a half ago. “Well then, get in here.”
The teenager walked in and looked around. It looked exactly like his own room did, but something about the fact that the older man had invited him in made him curious. He was wary of all people, but there was something about Josh that made him want to know more. “Okay, I’m in. Now what?”
Josh grabbed his iPod out of his bag and turned it on. He scrolled through the playlists he had made until he found one that contained all of his band’s music. He never listened to it unless he somehow miraculously forgot some lyrics or needed to double check a sound against new music so he wouldn’t ever repeat the same thing twice. He chose the song “Masterpiece Theatre III”, which, at the consensus of the band, seemed to contain a great deal of everything they were capable of, and handed his headphones to Dawson. “Here, put them on.” He waited until Dawson was ready and then he hit ‘play’. Josh then handed the iPod over and then sat in the chair at the table watching his reaction.
Dawson’s expression never changed, except to flicker his gaze from the iPod containing the name of the band and the song title over to Josh and back again. There was no recognition in his eyes, so Josh felt fairly certain that the boy had never heard his music before, nor did he even recognize Josh by appearance. When the song ended six minutes and forty-one second later, he took off the headphones and handed the entire thing back over to Josh wordlessly. He pushed his hair back with his hand, trying to decide what to say to the older man, if anything at all.
Josh waited for Dawson to say something, but he stayed quiet. Finally Josh spoke up. “Well, what do you think?”
“It’s okay, I guess. I’ve heard shit like this on the radio before.” Dawson shifted from foot to foot, as if he was trying to play it cooler than he really felt.
“Cool, cool. Well, that’s me and my band,” Josh said pointing at the iPod that he had lain on the table in front of him.
Dawson cautiously sat at the table across from Josh in the only remaining chair. “Let me hear another.”
“Really? Okay, umm…” Josh scrolled through the Marianas Trench playlist again, which he had labeled as “My Shit”, until he found the song he was looking for. He shoved the headphones across the table to Dawson again and waited until he had put them on, then Josh pressed ‘play’ and “Celebrity Status” rang in Dawson’s ears. Josh mentally sung the lyrics and then mouthed the words to the chorus when he thought they came up in the song. Dawson’s eyes widened a bit. Josh hadn’t even realized he was being watched.
When the song was over, Dawson once again took off the headphones and pushed them back to the singer. “How the fuck did you do that?”
“Do what?” asked Josh, turning his iPod off and wrapping up the headphone cord.
“How did you just guess when the chorus came up like that?” Dawson sat back in his chair and stared at the singer.
“Well…,” Josh said, trying to be careful not to make himself sound overly important, “when you play the same songs thousands of times, you get to know them really fucking well. Plus, it helps that I…you know…wrote it.”
“Huh.” Dawson was going to be a hard case, Josh decided. But they were bonding over music, so nothing was impossible. “Well, thanks for letting me hear your stuff. I guess it would be okay if we hung out now and then.”
“Drop in any time you want,” Josh said to him, standing up and grabbing his notebook and pen from the night table.
“What’s that?” Dawson asked as Josh sat again and opened the notebook to the last page of lyrics and music.
“This? Oh, it’s just new stuff I’m working on. I figured that I’d be in this fucking place long enough that I might as well use it to my advantage. You wanna see?”
He held his hand out and Josh turned the book to face him, then handed it over. Dawson nodded as he looked over the lyrics. “This is good, but it might be even better if you brought the chorus up a half-step. Give it a fucking edge, dude. Don’t be such a bitch about it. They’re good lyrics, but the music doesn’t fit like it is.”
“What? Let me fucking see that,” Josh said and took the notebook back. He quickly scrawled out a couple bars of notes written half a step up as Dawson had suggested and then sang out the lyrics he had written. God damn, the kid was right. Even though Josh was fairly certain he would have tried this same combination in editing and rewriting later on with the whole band, if the song and idea ever even made it that far, but he wanted to give Dawson credit for seeing this as quickly as he did.
“You, my friend, get a ‘thank you’ credit if this song ever makes it to an album. How did you see that so fast?” Josh grinned at him, mostly to try to keep him interested and talking.
Dawson shrugged his shoulders a bit. “I play a little.”
“Dude, you can totally fucking help me out, you know. I play,” Josh said pointing at his guitar, “obviously, but what would be cool is if you could play a little while I write this stuff out. Sometimes it helps to hear it without losing my train of thought, you know?”
“You want…me…to play…that?” Dawson glanced over at Josh’s guitar. “You’re in a fucking band. That guitar has got to be worth more than my goddamn life.”
“Unless you plan to go all Nirvana on me, I think I can risk it,” Josh laughed. “Besides, it’s nothing that can’t be replaced. The guitar, I mean- not your life.”
Dawson looked skeptical and trailed his eyes from Josh to the guitar and back again several more times. “I guess I could…if you want…”
“Cool, thanks. Just let me write a little more and then I’ll track you down for your playing skills. I’ve got so many fucking ideas.” Josh leaned back over the notebook and jotted down another line that was completely irrelevant to the song on the page. “Truth be told it’s all the same/Liars always win the game/The more you get the more you need/Just give in and make it bleed…,” he mumbled just to hear it out loud.
For the first time, Dawson smiled at Josh, even though Josh didn’t notice because he was bent over his notebook. He wasn’t going to let on, but he was glad to have the company, too. Having music to talk about made everything easier on him. At home, he lived for his music and his own guitar.
“Maybe when the rest of my band comes to visit, I can get them to bring their instruments and we can jam together for a while. You wanna?” Josh asked Dawson.
“That would be cool. I’ve never gotten to meet a real band before. At least, not one that was signed to a real record label.” Dawson was still skeptical and didn’t want to show how much that would really mean to him. He was fairly sure Josh would never follow through with that. Why would he? He didn’t know Dawson from a hole in the ground so why would he go out of his way to do something like that? Little did he know, Josh was already mentally planning on making a phone call later today to the rest of the guys if he could have his phone for five minutes.
Suddenly Dawson stood. “Hey, I have to get going. Thanks for…uh…showing me your stuff. It was pretty fuckin’ cool. I’ll see you around.”
Josh watched him go and picked up his pen again. Ideas were flowed from him freely and he wanted to write faster than his bandaged hand would allow. Josh realized about five pages into his writing that he still hadn’t checked on making that phone call to the band, so he dropped his pen and stood.
He ventured out to the nurses’ station and asked the nurse-in-pink if he could have his phone. No, but he could get the phone numbers he needed from his contact list and use the communal phone there in the lobby. “Policy says that you have to be in full view of the staff when on the phone just in case you say anything that could be interpreted as unhealthy. Sorry,” the nurse said apologetically. Josh understood. It was another inconvenience…one of many…but he didn’t have anything incriminating to say so he was okay with it.
After writing down the phone numbers he had stored for Mike, Matt, Ian and the stylist, just in case, he dropped down onto the hard-as-a-board chocolate coloured sofa and picked up the phone. First he dialed Mike’s number. No answer, and he didn’t want to have to leave a message. Then he called Ian’s cell. No answer there either. What the fuck? He could be dead and no one was answering their fucking phones. Matt was next. “Greetings, Earthlings. You’ve reached Matt. Leave a message or don’t,” said his voicemail message. Shit. Shit. Shit. In a last ditch effort, he dialed the number he had for the stylist.
“Hello?” Josh heard her yell into the phone over a lot of noise.
“Hey! It’s me!”
“What? “Me” who?” she asked, sounding confused.
“It’s Josh. Ramsay. JOSH! The lead singer of the band you know and love so much. The same douche that you just abandoned all alone because he’s crazy.” Josh wasn’t sure if she truly didn’t recognize his voice or his number or if she just couldn’t hear him over whatever the hell was going on in the background.
“Oh! Hey! What’s it been, like…a week since we’ve heard from you?” the stylist asked. She was clearly distracted.
“…a day…,” he responded feeling a little hurt. Josh still couldn’t tell if she was serious. “What the fuck is going on over there? What’s all that noise?”
“Band auditions!” the stylist said as if Josh should have known. “Mike,” the most inexperienced driver of the group, “decided that he could drive the bus and the guys wanted to finish the tour as scheduled because they’re sick of sitting around waiting on you, so they’re holding auditions. Matt is gonna take over the lead vocals so he decided to find someone to play his guitar parts. He figured as long as the new dude could play, he didn’t have to sing well. Mike can take over the background vocals and they can switch everything up into three-part harmony. Ian also decided that he wanted to be the one to crowd-surf now, so they’ll be using pre-recorded drums and mostly do a lot of lip syncing.”
“What the absolute fuck??” Josh was legitimately concerned and upset now. She sounded so serious. How could they fuck with the integrity of the band like that? He hoped to hell none of this was true.
“Yep! We would have told you sooner but we kinda forgot. Sorry.” The stylist turned from the phone and he heard muffled voices that he couldn’t quite make out.
“Put Matt on the phone!” Josh demanded.
He heard some shuffling sounds and the noise in the background stopped suddenly. “Hello?” Matt said into the phone.
“What the fuck, man? Band auditions??” Josh was angry and had caught the attention of the nurse on duty. She watched him closely and he lowered his voice. “You’re replacing me??”
“Only for the rest of this tour,” Matt said as if it should have been obvious. “You fucked up. This is what happens. Remember that for the future.”
“Fuck that, dude! Fuck that!”
Then Josh heard laughing. They thought this was funny? There were more shuffling noises and Mike’s voice came over the line. “Josh, man, I can’t let this go on. We’re just screwing with you. I saw your name come up on my caller ID a few minutes ago and Ian had this great idea to get back at you for that prank we pulled on him on tour last year when we left him playing alone on the stage. We had a feeling that you’d try calling us all and we were prepared. We had our instruments out and we really got to mess with your head. We’re sorry.”
More shuffling again. Ian laughed into the receiver. “Sorry, man. I couldn’t resist. When was I ever gonna have the chance to get back at you? After you sounded so concerned about being forgotten when we dropped you off and Mike made that joke about replacing you with a “better singer”, I got the idea stuck in my head and it was just too perfect. I’m sorry. Really.”
“So…no pre-recorded drums? No lip syncing? You swear on your fucking lives?” It was understandable that he was suspicious and confused. The whole thing had been one hell of a shock to his system and he may need to lie down for a bit after this. Nothing in his life meant as much to him as the band and it justifiably hurt his head to even think of the band’s integrity being fucked with.
“Dude, I swear. It was all a joke. We’re just sitting here on the bus watching TV and doing absolutely nothing but thinking about how much we miss your pretty face,” Ian said laughing again.
Josh had to laugh, too, once he got over the initial panic and shock. This was pretty good, he had to admit…even though it scared him. It also made him realize just how important his health was to the band and just how easily he really could be replaced, even though he was the one who started the band in the first place. Everyone could easily get tired of his shit, walk off and leave him behind.
The phone was handed back to Mike and he said, “Don’t worry, man. We aren’t replacing you. In fact, we were gonna surprise you by coming to visit you later. Matt called the nurses’ desk this morning and the nurse who answered said you were at a meeting, but she gave us the okay to come down and hang out for a while this afternoon. If you want us to, that is.”
Josh wanted to jump up off the couch and dance around the room using whatever horrible dance moves he had, but he remained as calm as he could. His heart started to beat a little faster and this was the most excited he’d been about anything in a long time. “Hey, that would be cool, yeah! How long can you stay? When can you be here?”
Josh could hear Mike’s smile when he talked. Mike could tell how enthusiastic the singer was at the prospect of seeing them and it made him happy to hear Josh in such a good mood. “We can come any time after you guys break for lunch, we were told. And the nurse gave us permission to stay until your dinner break at…what, six o’clock?”
“Yeah, yeah! That’s awesome!” Josh grinned and stood up. He couldn’t sit still now even if he wanted to, so he paced as far as the cord on the phone would allow. “I have a favour to ask you guys, since you’re coming.”
“Wait, wait,” Mike said cutting him off. “I’m gonna put you on speaker for this.”
The phone beeped when Mike pressed the speaker button so everyone could be let in on what Josh was about to ask. “Okay, what were you saying?” asked Ian.
“I said I have a favour. I’ve been trying to make friends with this teenage kid here.” Josh dropped his voice a bit in case anyone was lurking around the corner and listening. “Long story short, he reminds me way too much of myself. He’s totally into music and I actually told him who I was and what I do and I even let him listen to a couple of our songs. I wanna do something for him…so what I was wondering is if you guys would mind bringing your instruments with you. Maybe we can all jam for a bit with this kid? I can show you some of the new stuff I’m working on too.”
“I dunno, man, are you sure you wanna do that?” Matt asked. “Wouldn’t that sorta mean telling everyone who you are?”
Josh shrugged his shoulders, even though no one could see the gesture. He paced back across the room and sat again. “If they find out, they find out. I’m not gonna fucking advertise it at all, but I guess I can’t really hide it forever…as much as I’d like to,” he mumbled.
“Well, if you’re sure, we will. You want Ian to drag his drum kit around?” Matt asked. Josh heard Ian made a strangled-dying-cat noise in the background and it made him laugh.
“No, no, he can bring the shakers and we’ll do it as an acoustic thing. Don’t be fucking stupid.” Grinning, he thought of the joke his friends had pulled on him at the beginning of the conversation and Josh briefly wondered if he could actually get away with making Ian drag his entire drum kit here. At the last minute, he decided it wouldn’t at all be worth it, so he decided to save his own retaliation for another day.
“Then we’ll see you in a few hours,” Mike said and clicked the button which took Josh off speaker phone.
The stylist took control of her own phone again. “So hey, before I let you go, how’re you doing?”
“I’m…,” Josh hesitated to answer. He looked at the fresh bandage on his wrist that the doctor on staff had replaced yesterday during his intake visit and thought about his one and only interaction with Carrie-the-bitch. “…okay. I’m okay. I’m dealing.”
“Is that the truth?” she asked, sounding faintly concerned and a little doubtful. She could hear it in his voice that something wasn’t quite right, and this time, he wasn’t even trying to hide it.
“I’ll tell you more when you get here,” he said glancing up at the nurse behind the desk. Even though she was busy on her computer, Josh knew she was still listening. “But I’m really doing okay, all things considered.”
“Well, good. Okay, then we’ll see you soon. You…don’t mind if I come too, do you?” she asked.
“God, no! Please come. I need you guys.” His eyes widened a little and suddenly he was a bit worried that she might not come.
“Then I’ll be there. Have a good lunch and we’ll be there as soon as we can,” she said.
After they said their goodbyes and Josh hung up the phone, he walked over to the desk to talk to the nurse. “Can you tell me where Dawson might be hiding out?”
“Probably in his room,” she said. “He doesn’t come out for much.”
“Thanks,” Josh muttered, turning to walk away.
“Josh?” the nurse called him back. “It’s good that you’re trying to make friends with him.”
He shot a small smile in her direction and set out in search of the teenager.
Josh made a quick stop into his own room to jot down another couple of possible lines for a song into his notebook that he had come up with randomly while on the phone. “Name me a song and I’ll tell you the singer/Name me a vice and I’ve been the sinner…” He hummed a simple melody for the lines and it sounded eerily familiar, so he did it again. Fuck, why did that sound so familiar? Well, shit. He just mentally re-wrote the same tune he gave to one of their oldest songs that they rarely ever played anymore. Not a problem. It wasn’t set in stone, he could change it. Absorbed in what he was now writing, Josh pulled out the chair at the table and sat. He scratched out a few more lines, humming them as he went. That was much better.
Another couple of lines came to him. “A cavalcade in masquerade/You blame me when you feel betrayed…” Perhaps these unrelated lines could be made to fit together somehow? Maybe…
When Josh finally looked up at the clock on the wall, thirty minutes had passed, it was getting closer to lunch time and he still hadn’t gone to find Dawson. Shit! Josh stood and headed for the door, flinging it open and nearly colliding with a very stunned and confused teenager. “Fuck, dude! What the hell?” Dawson asked, taking a step backward.
“Oh, hey! Shit, sorry. I was just coming to look for you,” Josh said apologizing.
“Yeah, I know. The nurse said you were looking for me. Why?” Dawson ran a hand through his hair as he often seemed to do whenever he was nervous. Truth be told, any time someone was looking for him or wanted to speak with him these days, it seemed to only be to yell at him, and that made him uneasy. He was constantly on the edge and always waiting for those harsh words. Dawson was unnecessarily anxious this time, though, as Josh only had good news for him.
“Get the fuck in here and I’ll tell you!” Josh took a few steps backward into his room to let Dawson in.
The younger boy looked at Josh out of the corner of his eye, but walked into the room anyway. “Okay, okay, now what?”
Josh grinned. “The band is coming.”
“What?” Dawson sounded skeptical and he shoved his hands into his pockets.
“The band! Mike, Ian and Matt. They’re fucking coming! They’re gonna be here after lunch and I talked them into bringing their instruments. You get to meet them and I’m gonna be showing them my notebook of new stuff and I’ll tell them about your suggestion about taking that one part a half-step up and you can play my guitar and jam with us and it’s gonna be fuckin’ rad!” Josh rambled on and on, sounding more excited the longer he spoke. He grinned at Dawson again and flipped his hair back out of his eyes. “Well?? What do you think?”
“That’s…cool,” Dawson said, still continually trying to downplay any feelings of eagerness he might have had.
“Yeah! So, you can read music, right? Can you play by ear?” Josh walked over to the corner of the room and picked up his guitar case, which he had set on the floor against the wall and out of his way.
“Umm…I can try,” he said.
“Then sit! Here.” The singer opened the weathered black case and pulled out a gorgeous, shiny oak coloured acoustic guitar before handing it over to Dawson. “I’ll teach you some of our music so you can sit in with us. Awesome, right??” Josh wasn’t usually the teaching type, as he didn’t have the patience, but now he was legitimately motivated to be doing something like this. He considered it to be his own personal outreach program to help a ‘troubled kid’.
Dawson took the instrument in his hand and sat on the foot of the bed. He stared at it for a few moments before hoisting it up onto his lap and pulling the pick from between the strings near the head of the guitar. The pick was a bright pink colour and had the band name written across one side. On the back, it had Josh’s name written in fancy script. “Dude,” he said looking over at Josh, “you really are legit, aren’t you?”
Josh laughed and nodded. “Yeah, but don’t fucking tell anyone!” He sat in the chair at the table and pulled himself a bit closer to Dawson in case he had to show the kid some chords.
An hour went by, and with Josh’s new-found patience, teaching skills and knowledge of how to explain music theory, Dawson had several of Josh’s guitar parts memorized. Josh promised him several times that no one would blame him if he screwed up a chord or two because it happened to them all, even on stage, more often than anyone in the band cared to admit out loud, so Dawson could relax and everything would be okay. Besides, this was just for fun.
They had to break for lunch and for once, Josh didn’t feel concerned about eating. He was too jittery with thoughts about seeing the band and too excited to introduce Dawson around, so he ate without even thinking. When he was done, he and Dawson went back to Josh’s room to continue practicing.
Eventually the nurse-in-pink knocked on Josh’s open door. “Hey, you guys. The music sounds good!” She smiled at Dawson who barely glanced up at her. It seemed that Dawson was really only comfortable letting his guard down around Josh, but at least that was a start. “Josh, you have some visitors. They’ve all been searched and drug tested just as we explained when you arrived, and you’re all set to go meet them. They aren’t allowed back here in your room, but you can go hang out in the lobby or outside if you like.”
Josh smiled and thanked her. After she walked away, he stood and grabbed his guitar case. Dawson laid the guitar inside and closed it up while Josh picked up his notebook. “Come on!” He flew out the door and turned toward the lobby where he was first dropped off, leaving Dawson to carry the guitar. Dawson shyly and slowly followed Josh through the hallways and could hear loud conversation as the tall blond greeted his friends.
As the teen rounded the corner, he saw Josh hanging onto three men and a woman and smiling widely. He was talking fast and laughing, but Dawson couldn’t tell what was being said. He quietly set the guitar down and stood back against the wall. Fuck, this was awkward. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and stuck his hands into his pockets.
After a few minutes went by, Josh looked around for Dawson. “Hey, you guys, I wanna introduce you to someone. Dawson, come over here.”
The shorter blond shuffled his feet a bit but walked over to where Josh stood, stepping around two guitar cases in the process. “Guys, this is Dawson, my new prodigy. Dawson, this is Mike, Ian, Matt and our stylist.” Josh pointed to each one of them individually as he introduced them. Mike and Ian stuck their hands out to shake and Dawson semi-reluctantly accepted the gesture. Matt awkwardly gave Dawson a half-wave and a smile and the stylist nearly went to hug him until she saw him take a step back. Instead, she smiled at him and greeted him warmly as if he had been part of their group forever. Dawson still didn’t know what to expect. He had never been accepted into a group this quickly before. He had always had trouble making friends. He was bullied in school relentlessly from the time he was young and adults were never much help. But these guys…they seemed okay. He still wasn’t sure if he could trust them or not, though.
“So, I don’t know where any of the other ‘inmates’ are and I don’t care. But since we can’t go hang out in the room I’m fucking stuck in for the next…eternity, I was told we could go hang out on the back patio. Let’s go!” Josh took a few steps, bent down to pick up his guitar and continued to lead the way. Dawson hung back a bit until the rest of the group had passed and then he tagged along.
Once they were outside on the brick patio and seated in the wicker chairs, Mike leaned forward in his seat and spoke to Dawson, who had made the choice to keep the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and his eyes hidden. Jesus, it was so similar to talking to Josh sometimes, he thought. “So, Dawson, how did you and Josh here meet?”
Dawson shrugged and tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt without looking up at the bass player. “I dunno. After a meeting, I guess.”
Josh nodded in agreement when Mike glanced up at him. “Yep! And then we started talking about music and the rest is fucking history!” Josh flipped his hair up out of his eyes.
“Hey, Dawson, do you mind if we catch up a little on what’s been going on in the outside world before we get to playing?” Josh asked, looking over at the teenager who had become extremely withdrawn since the band had arrived.
“Whatever you want, man…,” he mumbled in Josh’s direction.
“Well, if we’re catching up, tell us how things have been going here,” the stylist spoke up. That was what she was most concerned about. She wasn’t sure how much Josh wanted to say in front of his new young friend, but she took a chance anyway.
“Well, like I said on the phone, things are…okay. I’ve only had one major fucking incident, but even that’s not the end of the world,” Josh said rolling his eyes, as he seemed apt to do these days. He crossed his legs and stared down at his bandaged hand again for the second time that day. Dawson lifted his eyes to Josh briefly. It made him feel slightly better to know that he wasn’t the only one having trouble adjusting to this place.
“What happened?” Ian asked with apprehension in his voice.
“Well, here’s the deal. There’s this chick in here that recognized me and we got to talking- no big deal. Then this other woman noticed me and totally tore me a new one because apparently I ignored her or something after a concert? Total bitchy redhead with these big dark glasses. She said the concert was that one time we played at the Vogue Theatre back home.” Josh shrugged a bit, mimicking the same move Dawson had made when he was uncomfortable just a minute or two prior.
Josh saw Matt’s eyes widen and he made a face. “What??” Josh asked. That caught Dawson’s attention and he was now fully invested in the conversation.
“This girl, is she about our age, give or take? Dyed bright red hair?” Matt questioned.
“Yeah, that sounds like her. Why?”
“You don’t remember?”
The light went on over Mike’s head as well. “Jesus, Josh, I remember her! She’s the same crazy lunatic that tried to climb on stage and drag you off back when you were trying to play and deal with the vertigo shit. You wound up hanging onto me because you couldn’t get close enough to your mic stand to sit on the stool until security removed her. No one knew how she ever got back into the arena after the show.”
Josh had a momentary panic attack. He didn’t remember any of this, he was so out of it, but he was sure it was true. No, wait, something vague was coming back to him now. As fucked up as he was during that stretch while trying to deal with being sick and performing all at the same time, he did remember an incident with a fan, even if he couldn’t remember the specifics. “Fuck, was that the same night I had to have Brett and a security guy carry me back to the bus because I couldn’t walk?”
“God, I remember that now,” Ian said, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Yes! You were sorta staggering around backstage and that chick ran up to you, clinging to your shirt and asking if she could give you a hug and take pictures and she wanted a ton of shit autographed. We kinda had to pry her off you and you told her that you personally couldn’t stick around and then the guys dragged you back out to the bus. We stuck around and autographed things for her, though.” Ian motioned to himself, Matt and Mike. “Everyone knew you were really sick, though, because you talked about it on stage before the concert even started.”
“And she was batshit insane! You know I don’t usually say that about people but she legitimately had me worried for my life there for a minute. She shouldn’t have even been where she was backstage, let alone inside the theater after that shit she pulled. We were all trying to get out of our costumes and into our street clothes before going back out to the merch booth to do all of that stuff and when we turned around, there she was,” Mike said, sliding the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows. “It was crazy!”
“She’s the one who gave me the inspiration for my “Bad Girl” video,” Matt joked, shaking his head. Everyone laughed at that, although at the time, it was pretty serious. It might still be serious, but it felt good to joke about it for the moment.
“You have your own music too?” Dawson asked Matt quietly, interrupting the conversation.
Matt smiled shyly and ducked his head a bit. “Yeah, it was just a side project that I’d wanted to do forever. I finally had the chance and the time, so I took it. I couldn’t have done it without these guys, though,” he motioned to the other three men, then shrugged as if to say it was no big deal.
“Hey, give yourself credit, Matt! Your music is great. You should totally let Dawson hear it sometime,” the stylist said leaning over and patting Matt’s shoulder.
“I’ve got it on my iPod if you wanna listen to it later,” Josh said to Dawson.
Matt looked up at Josh, completely surprised and grinned. He was actually touched that his friend cared so much. “You have my music on your iPod??”
Josh smiled back. “Yeah, but I never listen to it.” He laughed, which was always contagious and that had everyone else laughing at Matt’s expense.
Quickly, Josh leaned forward and opened his notebook onto his lap. He scribbled something across the page and closed it again. “You saw it wrong, the story you unfolded/Give me time to show you the same version remolded/You’ve got me wrong and you just don’t know/You look down on me as your now-fallen hero…”
“Well, now that I know that I’m not nuts and I really have to watch my fucking back around that lunatic, I can relax a little. It was driving me batshit crazy for a little while. At least now I know what I’m dealing with.” Josh said dropping his notebook down onto the table in front of him. “You guys wanna get your guitars out and play a little? I’ve been teaching Dawson some stuff. He’s willing to try my guitar parts since I obviously can’t play. I’m surprised I can even write. No, I take that back. I can barely write. It’s worse than usual.” Everyone knew that the brilliant lyricist, writer, producer, creator and lanky blond man sitting in front of them had the worst handwriting anyone had ever seen and it had become another running joke with the band and even with the fans.
Dawson didn’t really want to screw up his chances of being able to play guitar with the band, even for a short time just for fun, but he thought he was only doing it to help Josh. Now it seemed that there was another reason. “Why can’t you play?”
Josh slid his sleeve up to his elbow and held out his bandaged hand on purpose so Dawson could see. He was about to admit to everything and it terrified him more than it should. He shouldn’t be this nervous about telling this kid what he was going through, but he was. His hand shook slightly as he held it out for Dawson.
“Dude…what the fuck happened?” the teenager asked and shoved the hood of his sweatshirt back to uncover his eyes. It seemed that Josh was ready to talk about things, at least a little. The stylist gave Josh a look that asked if he was positive he wanted to reveal everything and Josh simply nodded at her.
“Well…,” the singer started to speak but chose a different way to start his explanation. He tugged at the tape holding the bandage together and slowly pulled it off. He unwound the gauze and gently flexed his fingers, gritting his teeth the whole time as the semi-fresh cuts still stung. He had sutures running across his palm that still looked fairly fresh, which made sense considering Josh had just been in the hospital the day before. No doubt it was a bad place to get a wound to heal. Josh poked at the three lines of stitches that ran along his forearm as well. Those didn’t hurt nearly as much, although they looked considerably worse than they felt. He was showing off what he had done not only to Dawson, but to his friends as well. He wanted them to see something different. He wanted them to know that he was healing slowly but surely.
At first, when the band dropped Josh off just a day ago, he had it in his head that he was as pissed off as he could possibly be and he wanted his friends to suffer for it. Internally, he was going to miss them like hell and he couldn’t lie to himself about that. But externally, he was going to treat them like shit because he was angry at them for treating him like a kid, like someone who couldn’t take care of himself…until he realized he WAS that kid and he couldn’t be annoyed at the people who cared enough to keep him from killing himself. So now he wanted them to know that he was trying. He was working so hard to keep his promises and showing off something as simple as a suture line that he hadn’t tampered with to cause any more damage made him feel proud of himself for the first time in a long while. Josh smiled a little, despite not having told Dawson a single thing.
“See this?” the older blond held his arm out to Dawson and the teenager nodded.
“Two days ago I did this to myself,” Josh admitted quietly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his stylist reach out to hold hands with both Mike and Ian. Matt sat up a little straighter. It seemed like none of them could believe he was telling this to someone outside their group, even though, once again as a group, they had collectively accepted Dawson.
“Fuck, dude…,” Dawson said shaking his head. “What made you do that shit?” He was coming out of his shell now that he had a reason, and for that, Josh was grateful. He never wanted to be anyone someone looked up to for personal reasons. He was fine with it when it came to his music, but for something like this, he’d rather people found their inspiration from a more personal place. However, Josh saw this as an opportunity to try to help Dawson, so he broke his rule and decided to try to tell the kid his story.
Josh sighed and laid his arm across his lap. He’d have to get the bandage replaced soon. “I…have a history. Do you really wanna hear about it?” He waited for Dawson’s reaction before he continued to talk. Fuck, of course the kid wanted to hear the gruesome background stories. Who wouldn’t? Just as he had thought in the hospital, who didn’t love a trainwreck?
The band settled in while Josh re-told everything. He started with his teenage years, explaining about his depression, the drug use, his encounters with bulimia, anorexia and alcoholism, failed interventions by his friends and family, and his stay in the treatment center which finally sobered him up and set him straight. He explained how he worked with his band and the shows and the videos that lead him up to last year when he had started to drink again socially, which triggered the depression, which, in turn, made his cutting issue resurface. Eventually Josh got around to explaining everything that he had been through over the last few months, occasionally gesturing to his friends to get their input or their confirmation on his story. He even told the story behind the ugly purple and yellow matching bruises around his eyes that he and Matt shared as well as the head injury he had accidentally given the stylist.
When Josh was finished speaking, he pulled his bangs down across his eyes and stared at his shoes. Even though every one of the people sitting in front of him knew the story…stories…he was still self-conscious about it and he hated admitting that he had been so badly broken by his own thoughts and actions. It was bad enough that it happened once when he was Dawson’s age, but the more Josh thought and talked about things, the worse he felt about going through the same motions twice in as many years at his age.
No! Stop fucking thinking about it. Shut up. Shut up. SHUT UP. When are you ever, ever gonna stop this? You’re so damn worthless. You should be over this shit by now, but you aren’t, are you? No, you’re fucking up all over again. You’re just as fucked up as you were when you were a stupid kid. What good did that do you? You obviously didn’t learn anything from it. Josh closed his eyes in a futile effort to stop his mind from battling old wars. Rip open the sutures. Do it. Don’t be a fucking pans, Ramsay. Just do it. What’s it gonna hurt? You’re so fucking far gone already. These people have already seen you at your lowest. They’ve fucking seen you cry over your own songs at concerts. How pathetic is that? You can’t even keep it together thinking about something that happened ten years ago. What makes you think this time is gonna be any different? Do you really think you’ve changed? Self-delusional prick. Do it. DO IT. Josh distractedly ran his fingertips across the sutures holding his butchered skin together. He wasn’t aware anymore that the five people sitting in front of him were all watching him slowly melt down again.
He flinched like a scared cat when something touched his shoulder. That was enough to bring him back to reality and ground him again. He let out a puff of air that he had been holding in his lungs for so long that it had started to burn. His eyes teared just from the lack of ability to breathe normally alone. The stylist had gotten up and put her arm around his shoulders. Josh ducked his head down further and bit the inside of his bottom lip until it was bloody. “I’m okay, I’m fine,” he mumbled over and over, more to himself than to anyone else. His elbows were on his knees and the heels of his hands were against his forehead. Josh continually opened and closed his fingers, ignoring any pain in his hand, gripping his hair and trying to breathe steadily. He sucked in air as if he couldn’t get enough and his body was involuntarily shaking at the thoughts still racing through his mind. NO. NO. NO. Stop it. Just fucking stop it. You’re better than this. Aren’t you? The fuck you are… Tell everyone to go home. They don’t wanna be here anyway. They don’t give a shit about you. They only hang out with you because of what you can do for them, and right now, that’s not a damn thing. Just tell them to go. Tell them you’re fine. Lie through your fucking teeth and they’ll be more than happy to leave you. You’ll see. That’s all they want. They wanna see that you’re “fine” so it keeps their own guilt about you in check. They don’t really care. You’ll see how relieved they look when they don’t have to look at you and they’re released from the obligation of trying to make small talk. Just do it and you’ll see. Just because you’re a fuck up doesn’t mean they wanna be, and they sure as hell don’t wanna be seen with you. You’re useless to them. You only matter when you’re the star. “…only meant to play the fool, only meant to please the crowd…” His own recently written song lyrics came back to haunt him.
Ian was the only one to look over at Dawson, who appeared to be scared shitless. Dawson had never seen anyone else freak out like that before. He’d seen friends get angry or overly upset, but this was different. This was a fairly famous man nearly twice his age shutting down over something that only he could see or hear and it actually made Dawson afraid for himself. He was terrified that he was looking at his own future. Ian could see how wide the boy’s eyes were and he could almost sense how quickly Dawson’s heart had started to pound in his chest. Ian didn’t want to leave Josh now, but in his own heart, he felt like it would be better that Dawson didn’t witness any more of this breakdown from Josh. It’s not that he felt that the kid couldn’t handle it, but he knew that Josh already felt strange enough having to count on anyone else to talk him down from these episodes and he worried that having someone new around to see it happen would only add to the stress.
Ian stood and tugged gently at Dawson’s sleeve. “Hey, man, let’s go take a walk. Give them a minute or two, okay?” The younger blond nodded, but couldn’t drag his eyes away from Josh who was still hunched over with his head in his hands. The stylist and the bass player - Mike, was it? - were at his sides and the youngest guitar player had dragged his chair closer and was sitting nearly knee-to-knee with the singer.
Ian yanked on Dawson’s sleeve again. “Come on, dude, just for a few minutes. We’ll come back. I’ll show you Matt’s video on my phone while we wait.” Dawson nodded again and allowed the drummer to drag him into a standing position. He continued to watch Josh over his shoulder as the two of them walked back into the building to go sit in the lobby for a few minutes. Ian took a quick detour to let the nurse-in-pink at the front desk know what was going on because he sure as shit knew that Josh would never tell anyone he was having a rough time.
Once the drummer and the teenager were seated in the lobby, Dawson glared at Ian in the way that only teenagers can do. “Why the fuck did you just rat him out like that?” It sounded like Dawson was now sticking up for Josh.
Ian let a smile tug at his lips. He had to make Dawson understand, but he found it amusing that the kid just accused him of being a tattle-tale. “Here’s the thing. You might not get this until you’re a little older,” Ian said, running his hand through his hair once he realized how old that statement made him sound. “There are gonna be people in your life that you’re gonna wanna protect and be there for no matter what, in any way that you can. Whether it’s your sister or your mother or your best friend…it makes no difference. But those people will be there and you’re gonna do everything in your power to try to keep them safe. What I just did by telling the nurse…that was my way of trying to protect Josh from himself. I know you see this place as being some sort of punishment, right?”
Dawson thought about it and wondered how Ian could have possibly known. He didn’t want to admit that the older man was right, but he was. Dawson avoided answering for a moment, but eventually he nodded and slouched down into the corner of the couch as far away from Ian as he could get. It felt like a safe zone for him. “So does Josh. I think…,” Ian paused to cross his legs and yawn widely behind his hand, “that Josh sees a lot of himself in you. I think you remind him very much of the way he used to be and the way he can still get these days. That’s why he wanted to get to know you so much. This is just my opinion, of course, but I know the guy. He’s not really a softie for people as a whole, so if you’ve made your way into his inner circle and he cares about you, you’re something special. You know how I know he truly wants to get to be your friend and that you mean something to him?”
The young blond eyed Ian and crossed his arms over his chest. “How?”
“He let you touch his guitar. The man-child never lets anyone near his instruments except Brett, our guitar technician. And then, he really has no choice because Brett is…was,” Ian paused, wondering if Brett had actually terminated his position with the band, then decided not to go into that just yet, “…is…the one who brings the guys their guitars on stage during concerts. Beyond that, not even Matt has ever played a guitar Josh has owned and the two of them have been friends since they were your age.” Ian smiled at the teenager and rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t gotten much rest lately. Even though he knew Josh would be okay, he still lost sleep over it.
“That’s…pretty cool, I guess,” Dawson agreed reluctantly. He still didn’t want to let on that Josh was really the first friend he had who hadn’t treated him like shit yet. He also didn’t want to admit that he was waiting to be kicked to the curb as soon as Josh and the rest of the band realized how fucked up he truly was. Although, after seeing what Josh was dealing with outside, maybe they would have a high tolerance for Dawson’s shit too. He felt a bit of optimism, but didn’t want to get his hopes up too high.
“Yeah, it really is. Josh goes out of his way to protect the people he cares about. And just so you know, since you’re in with Josh, you’re in with the rest of us, too. It’s cool if you just wanna call us up and talk or whatever.” Ian held up his cell phone as an unnecessary visual.
“Really? I can just…fuckin’ call you up out of nowhere like that?” Dawson sounded unconvinced, and rightfully so. No one, especially an adult, had ever done that for him before. He didn’t make friends that easily and he really only had six numbers stored in his own cell- the numbers for each of his parents, his therapist, a guy he knew that sold drugs at school (which he claimed to never have used as of yet- he only had the number “just in case”) and two friends that he had known since the age of eight. And even then, it took him several years before they were close enough to talk outside of class. God, he was pitiful. It was no wonder he was wary of people.
“Sure, why not?” Ian, being the logical and rational one yet again, knew that it was hard for Dawson to wrap his head around, so he spoke as genuinely and gently as he possibly could. Ian also thought that Josh currently had enough on his plate, even though he was the one who wanted to make friends with Dawson. Ian figured that if he could lighten Josh’s mental load a bit by keeping an eye on the kid, he would do it.
The teenager shrugged his shoulders, but sat up a bit, giving Ian a slight clue that he felt a bit more comfortable around the drummer. Ian reached over to the side table and picked up the pad and pen that were placed near the phone. He jotted down his number and handed it over to the younger boy before setting the objects back down in their places again.
“You wanna check out Matt’s song?” Ian changed the subject to something a little lighter. “It’s really pretty great. It’s his first and only video going solo so far, but he did well.” Ian turned his phone on and waited while it searched for the connection he needed to open up Matt’s work. Once he had pulled up the “Bad Girl” video, he handed his phone over to Dawson and sat back to watch his reaction. Matt had a kick-ass video, but it was so different from the way he was in real life that it was hard to believe it was the same guy.
When the song was over, Dawson smirked out of the corner of his mouth. “That’s…Matt?”
“Pretty crazy, isn’t it? He’s such an awkward turtle in person.” Ian laughed. “But he really is a great musician.”
“The chick in the video was pretty hot, though. He’s got other songs on this list. Can…can I listen?”
Ian made a motion to say that it was okay with him if Dawson wanted to listen to whatever he found interesting and Dawson took him up on it. By the time Ian got his phone back, half the battery life was gone. It turned out that the young blond had not only listened to everything Matt had recorded and put out, but as many of the band’s songs as he could find as well.
“You guys…you really are for fuckin’ real.” He ducked his head in the same move that Ian had seen Josh make many times over the years. “I like “Perfect”,” he mumbled down at the floor, speaking of one of the band’s older songs.
“Josh wrote that one a long time ago. It’s not one we play often at concerts anymore or anything, but it still crops up now and then. I know it’s still pretty special to him because he wrote lots of that his first time around in a treatment center.” Ian really wasn’t sure how much he should be telling to this kid sitting in front of him, but he figured that if Josh was okay with telling Dawson about his past, very little was off-limits.
Back out on the patio, Josh was still mentally reeling from every thought that tried to tear him down all over again. The stylist rubbed his back and Mike had laid his hand on Josh’s shoulder. Matt didn’t know quite what to do so he uncomfortably watched Josh from the corner of his eye. Josh hadn’t moved from his position in half an hour. He couldn’t stop the thoughts in his head. The word “worthless” kept turning itself over and over in his head. The nurse at the desk had come out to find out exactly what was going on and she had brought some kind of anti-anxiety medication that she stood around to watch Josh take. When he sat up, his eyes were red-rimmed, even though he hadn’t exactly been crying.
The nurse looked at the stylist, Mike and Matt and quietly said, “Maybe it’s time that you should all go. I think Josh needs some rest and -,”
“No!” Josh interrupted her. He grabbed the sleeve of Mike’s jacket and reached out for Matt as well. “Please don’t make them go. It wasn’t them. You fucking said they could stay until dinner!” He could feel himself start to panic all over again.
The nurse-in-pink glanced around from Josh to each one of his guests and pursed her lips. “Well…okay. They can stay, but if this happens again, they’ll have to leave and we’ll set you up in a meeting with a doctor.”
Josh nodded. “It’ll be fine. It won’t happen again.” He was determined to not fuck this up, at least. He would have broken down with or without them here…he thought. As embarrassed as he was that this kept happening, especially in front of people, he really needed his friends there now. Just a couple days ago, he was fighting to keep his distance and now he couldn’t force himself to let them go.
The nurse-in-pink looked at Josh one last time before smiling at him and shaking her head. “I don’t know what it is about you, but we let you get away with murder around here and it’s only your second day.”
Josh faked a smile. “It’s the only thing I’m good at.” There was that self-degrading thing again that Matt hated so much.
She patted Mike’s shoulder and told the group that if Josh needed anything else, they should come find her and she’d take care of it. By the time the nurse walked off, Josh still hadn’t let go of his band members. Matt’s arm was pulled across Josh’s knees and he was squeezing Mike’s sleeve so tightly that his fingers were nearly numb.
The stylist ran her hand over the back of Josh’s hair a couple of times. “You doing okay there, darlin’?” He nodded wordlessly.
“Can…we have our arms back?” Mike asked with a hint of a smile in his voice.
Josh shook his head this time and his grip on both of their sleeves tightened even more. The stiffness of Mike’s leather jacket bit into his palm and rubbed against the sutures making them raw, but Josh didn’t care. He just needed a few more minutes and he’d be okay again. He wasn’t even sure he could move if he wanted to, he was so tense. He finally felt the stylist drape her arm across his shoulders and, against his own will, he could feel himself relax a bit. His hold on his friends loosened and they gently pulled their arms out of his grasp. Mike smoothed out the leather and Matt shoved his chair back so that he was no longer in the singer’s face.
Mike took his seat again, but the stylist stayed at Josh’s side. “What happened there? Talk to us.”
Josh held his injured hand palm-up in his lap and ran a finger from the opposite hand over the sutures. His hand was red and the suture line had started to bleed a little from the friction of Mike’s jacket rubbing against it, but he ignored it. It didn’t hurt much, but it certainly looked like it should. “Umm…”
“Come on, Ramsay,” Matt said, finally speaking up and using nearly the same tone of voice he used on the bus when he called Josh out on the recent flare up of his eating disorder. He was torn between being flattered that Josh chose to grab onto him when he needed someone and being almost annoyed that Josh freaked the fuck out as badly as he did out of nowhere like that. The mood swings were something Matt had seen a lot from Josh back in the day and he didn’t like it then either. One minute, the singer would be on top of the world while the two of them were playing video games or having band practice, and the next minute, he’d be sitting on the floor in the darkest corner of Matt’s bedroom with his arms wrapped around his legs and his forehead resting on his knees, telling Matt that he just “didn’t understand” what Josh was going through at the moment or that he “just needed some time” and that he would be okay soon. Now here it was happening again and Matt was getting tired of the whole thing. He was tired of trying to be understanding about it.
“Josh, man…,” Mike sat forward in his chair. He tapped Josh’s arm gently to get his attention. Mike looked straight into his eyes. “Not talking to us is what got you here. You trust us enough to want us to visit. You just begged that nurse to let us stay. Now talk to us. We’re right with you in this, so you might as well tell us what’s going on in your head.” Mike spoke to Josh in the same way a big brother would and it was comforting. He knew Mike meant well. Everyone in his circle of friends did. He was just so fucking tired of feeling like shit about it that he didn’t want to talk about it. He was done talking about it. He would have to talk about it.
Josh opened his mouth to speak and was promptly interrupted by a voice behind him. “Spoiled rockstar having another meltdown, is he? What, is his wallet too heavy? Is his dick too big? No, wait, it’s too small. Maybe he suddenly discovered he’s gay enough to match that hair and those clothes. Better yet, he’s run out of people to fucking insult and now he doesn’t know what to do with his life because he has no other talents? Hell, perhaps he finally realized what a fucking loser he really is. Who gives a shit about him? You guys obviously don’t or you wouldn’t have dumped him in here. Or maybe he’s just crazy and he’s worried all of his little toy soldier followers will “accidentally” find out.” Josh shut his mouth and dropped his head back down into his hands. Fuck. How the hell did she manage to get into his head and list everything he was worried about?
Mike stood and looked over at the redhead who had stepped out onto the patio. The way she swung her hips as she walked suggested she thought she was really hot shit for kicking Josh when he was down. “Uh…hi,” he said. “I’m Mike.” He knew exactly who she was after their talk about her earlier. She was definitely the crazy fan who wouldn’t let go of Josh’s legs at the theater concert they had played a year prior. She very nearly took him down, being that he couldn’t stand on his own at the time due to being so sick. Mike wanted to play along and pretend that he didn’t know her because it seemed safer than letting on that she was so memorable, even if it was in a negative way. It was always better not to encourage those people.
“Yeah, I know who you are. I know who you are, too,” she said moving her gaze over to Matt and letting her eyes linger on his lap a bit too long for Matt’s comfort level. He saw a smirk cross her face and she flicked her tongue across her lips. Matt wasn’t an expressive guy, but his eyes widened and the look on his face let everyone know he wasn’t at all okay with what was happening. He quickly shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket before pulling his jacket closed in a half-hearted attempt to block his body from her view. He avoided eye contact at all costs.
“I’ve seen you in concert. Once I found out that he was here,” Carrie said nodding briefly in Josh’s direction, “I knew the rest of you wouldn’t be too far behind. I had a feeling he’d freak the fuck out over being here and call his cronies out to visit. Even in interviews on TV and in person, he never seemed too stable.” She laughed as if that was the funniest thing she had ever said.
Once Carrie calmed herself down, she turned back to Mike. “Hey, is it true that bassists do it deeper and guitarists finger faster?” She reached up and twirled her hair around her finger.
No one knew how to respond to that and no one wanted to. After a beat, Carrie made another dig at Josh. “I don’t care what the fuck singers do. This one isn’t worth my time…fucking waste of air. I’m really starting to believe that his mama should have swallowed that night instead.” She turned to the stylist at Josh’s side. “Speaking of swallowing, you can have him, honey. I’ve seen his dick. You couldn’t pay me enough to put that thing in my mouth.” At that, Carrie sauntered off into the building, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. She’d obviously made her point. Everyone knew that everything she had said was a complete lie and only done to try to get the better of Josh, luckily. But still, everything she said had gotten to them all.
Mike dropped back down into his chair and shook his head. He sighed heavily. They’d all come across their fair share of crazy or disturbing fans and, of course, there were always people who hated them for a particular reason, or even for no reason at all, but this chick was in a class all her own. “Dude, that’s what you had to put up with before?”
Josh nodded again. Either the medication the nurse-in-pink had given him for anxiety was working or he had stopped caring what she had to say. He guessed it was more the former, but he didn’t give a fuck either way at this point. It didn’t matter why. He was just glad to be comfortably numb for the time being. It was a decent change from his most recent ‘normal’. “That’s her.” He sat up straight and laid his arms on the sides of the chair. His fingers tapped out a random rhythm that suggested he was very anxious, but to his credit, he stayed seated and calm. His eyes were fixed on a darkened spot on the patio between his feet and Matt’s. He couldn’t tear his gaze away just yet.
“We are so sorry,” Matt said as he crossed his ankle over the opposite knee. “I think we have to talk to someone about that. The point of having you here is for you to get better, not to let someone else tear you apart. She can’t be helping.”
“She’s not, but…I dunno,” Josh said. He didn’t know what he wanted. He couldn’t think about this anymore. He was tired of thinking. Luckily, or unluckily, a light haze had settled over his brain and he could barely pay attention to what his friends were saying, let alone come up with something coherent to say for himself.
“Well, I can’t believe her,” the stylist said. She took her arm from around Josh’s shoulders and balled her fits up at her sides. She paced back and forth a bit behind Josh just to clear her head before she spoke again. “That chick is fucking psychotic. Now she’s gone after you twice in two days in addition to the issue you had before at that concert. Do you want us to say anything about her? And if we don’t say anything, will you?”
“Don’t bother,” said Ian walking out of the building with Dawson at his side. That caused Josh to finally look up. “If we’re talking about that crazy redhead, she just wandered through the lobby and sat on my lap. She even tried to pick up the kid here.” Ian pointed over his shoulder at Dawson, who was staring down at his feet and smiling a little. Josh figured that it was the first time anyone had ever made those kinds of moves on him, so they’d let Dawson have his moment, even if it wasn’t exactly genuine. “The nurse behind the desk saw what happened, and being that there’s apparently a policy against sexual advances in here, I was told they would “do something” about her.”
Josh shuddered a bit, shaking himself out of the mental fog that the medication had brought on. “Thank fucking Christ,” he said taking a deep breath. “It’s only the second day and there’s no fucking way I could have dealt with that shit for any longer. I’m sorry you guys got caught up in that. And, just so you know, my dick is perfect, thank you very much.”
The stylist cuffed him on the shoulder, but smiled anyway. At least he felt comfortable enough to make a ‘dick joke’ now, so that was something. Medication or not, she had to admit that he was sounding better.
Ian and Dawson stepped in closer to the group. “Is it okay that we’re back?” the drummer asked hesitantly.
“Yeah, it’s good that you guys are here,” Mike said as Ian and Dawson dropped down into their seats. “Josh was just about to tell us what triggered everything before. Weren’t you?” He looked over at the singer with an eyebrow raised.
Fuck. Fuck. Josh had hoped that everyone would have forgotten about that by now and moved on. He glanced at Dawson out of the corner of his eye and the kid seemed to be extremely invested in hearing what Josh had to say. Now he really felt like he had to talk. What did he get himself into? Now he had yet another person to be accountable to and feel guilty about if he didn’t do what was expected of him. He was just leading himself into his own trap.
“Yeah, umm…okay, you guys, here’s the deal. I haven’t told this to anyone, not even the doctors here.” He paused and watched his stylist sink down into her own chair next to Matt. Once seated, she reached over to hold his hand. What the hell was that sudden pang of jealousy he felt over that? She had told him from the very start that she would be there for all of the boys in the band when and if they needed her, and the fact that she reached for Matt’s hand was just a random gesture of…what? Comfort? No more, no less. Wasn’t it?
Josh shook his head to try to erase the thought of his stylist and Matt holding hands or doing anything else together, and he continued on with his story. “So, fuck it all…I just have these continually intrusive thoughts that I’m never good enough. That you guys just don’t give a shit about me. That I shouldn’t…well…be here. Alive.” He ducked his head until his hair fell into his eyes again.
“Dude,” Matt said, sitting up a little straighter, “why didn’t you tell us this shit?!” He sounded angry, but he also sounded hurt. Josh’s chest tightened a bit when he heard the tone in his friend’s voice.
The blond shrugged. “It’s just fucking weird, okay? It’s not like I really wanna kill myself or anything. It just feels like I’m useless most of the time. I can’t explain it and you wouldn’t understand.”
“Ramsay, we might not be able to fully understand, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care. And it doesn’t mean we won’t try. Are you listening to me?” Ian leaned forward and dragged his chair closer to where Josh sat. He waited for the singer to acknowledge him and when he didn’t, Ian cleared his throat loudly. “Josh! Pay attention. Are you listening?”
Josh nodded slightly and looked up at the drummer. “Yeah…”
“Good, because I’m only gonna tell you this once. You know us. You know every single one of us as well as anyone possibly could. We all have family and friends and lives that we could be getting back to, but instead, every one of us sitting here gave up the opportunity to go back home so we could be here for you. Jesus, man, look at her,” Ian said pointing at the stylist. “She has absolutely no reason to hang around. We aren’t playing shows, we aren’t shooting videos, we have no use for costumes and we aren’t even doing interviews. She has even less reason to be here than any one of the rest of us and she’s still here. Doesn’t that say something? Does that tell you anything?”
Josh huffed and cast another quick glance over to Dawson again because he was sorry Dawson had to see this. “It tells me you’re all fuckin’ crazy. You should be home. You shouldn’t be here.”
Ian nodded at him. “Yeah, you’re right. We all should be home, but we’re not. That’s how much you mean to us. Do you see? Do you understand?”
“No,” Josh said shrugging his shoulders. “But I’m trying.”
“Dude, you’ve gotta tell us when shit like this gets to you. As well as we might know you, we can’t read your mind. And we really don’t want you thinking that we don’t care because it’s not true.” Mike reached over and patted Josh’s knee once before sitting back in his chair and crossing his ankle over the opposite knee. He played with his shoelace a bit before speaking again. “Get it?”
“Yeah…and I’m…-,” he was about to say he was sorry until he glanced over to Matt, who had just recently told him to stop apologizing. Fuck it. Again. “I’m sorry.” He knew what was coming and he was right. Josh saw Matt roll his eyes and shake his head.
“Knock it off, Josh.” Matt let go of the stylist’s hand and stood. She put her hand on his arm to stop him but he shrugged her off. “What did I tell you back in the hospital? Stop apologizing. Stop fucking telling us you’re sorry. It doesn’t help. It doesn’t make anything better. It doesn’t solve the fact that you could have killed yourself two days ago.” Matt’s voice cracked a little at the thought. He had tried so hard to keep his own emotions out of this, but now he was faltering. “It doesn’t fix the fact that you fucking starved yourself over the last three months. It doesn’t make a difference. “Sorry” doesn’t erase the years of lines you’ve cut all over your body,” he said gesturing to Josh’s arm in particular. “The only thing that’s gonna make anything better is if you stopped doing this shit. We can’t make you understand how much we care. We’ve been trying so hard to show you for so long, though. Just open your fucking eyes, man. That’s all it takes. That’s all it fucking takes.” Matt shoved a hand through his hair and brushed it back from his face. His cheeks were flushed, but that could have been from either the chill in the air or from being so worked up. He took a step closer to Josh and opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak again, but thought better of it. Instead, the brunet shook his head and silently turned on his heel. He followed the cobblestone path that wound around the side of the building until he was out of sight.
Josh and the rest of the group watched Matt walk away and Josh looked helplessly over at Mike, then Ian, then finally the stylist. No one knew what to say. No one expected those words from Matt, although everyone was secretly glad that someone had the nerve to say all of that to Josh. He needed to hear it. Surprisingly Dawson was the only one to speak up. “He’ll be back, man.” The words sounded so strange coming from someone he barely knew who was nearly half his age, but they helped.
“Maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea,” Ian said quietly. “All we’ve done is ruin your day. This wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t been here.”
“No,” Josh said strongly. “I ruined my fucking day. It would have happened anyway. Honest. You guys didn’t do this to me. I need you guys. Please…stay. Please…”
Ian had nothing to say. He leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers together over his stomach and sighed, silently agreeing for himself and the others that they would stay.
Mike shrugged his shoulders and stared at the singer for a minute or two. “Are you sure, Josh? Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”
Josh nodded and sat up straighter in his chair. “Let’s…let’s just play something. Okay? I promised Dawson. And I have new stuff to show you.” He was eager to change the subject and move on. He grabbed his notebook from the table and held it up. “I’ve had so many ideas that I can’t keep track.” He leafed through it until he found the page he wanted and handed it over to Mike, who, in turn, passed it over to Ian when he was through.
“This isn’t half bad. You know, if you brought this chorus up another half-step, it might be even better.” Ian handed the notebook back over to Josh, who immediately refused to take it.
He turned and grinned at Dawson. Dawson smiled and dipped his head. “Dude, turn to the next page.” Josh watched as Ian flipped the page and saw what Josh wanted him to see. “That was all fucking Dawson, dude! He suggested it and he was right. It’s pretty rad that you just said the same thing and confirmed it.”
Josh came alive when he talked about music. It ran in his blood, without a doubt. He seemed to forget everything else going on in his life whenever music was involved and he became so animated and excited. It was good to see.
Because the boys were so distracted by talking about the song and including Dawson in the discussion, no one looked up when the stylist stood and walked in the direction in which she had seen Matt go about ten minutes prior. In all the time she’d known the band, she had never seen Matt get this irritated at anyone. Not even when she caught Josh fighting with him on the bus was he this upset. Angry, sure, but this was different. She understood why and felt that his emotions and his attitude were both completely warranted. She went in search of him to tell him so.
The stylist rounded the side of the building and caught sight of Matt leaning back against the fence that blocked the view of the street. His arms were tucked into the pockets of his sweatshirt and he was staring at the ground in front of him, kicking a stray pinecone back and forth between his feet. He looked up when he heard close footsteps crunching dried leaves on the stones. “Oh…hey…”
She smiled a bit before quietly responding, “Hey.” The stylist reached up and plucked a leaf from the tree that stood near the fence and twirled it between her fingers. The deep red colour was perfect for a potential new hair colour, she thought. Maybe she’d try that look for herself soon.
“You’re pretty pissed, aren’t you?” she asked Matt in a knowing tone when he had nothing else to say to her. She wasn’t even sure that he would accept her being here, but he would have to tell her so if he wanted her to leave.
He nodded. “I just don’t get it.” Matt pushed himself off the fence, dragged his hands out of his pockets and flung his arms out to his sides. “I don’t understand what the hell is going on with Josh. I’ve known him for so fucking long and he still doesn’t realize what he means to me? To us? To everyone? If someone knows why we can’t get that through to him, I wish they’d tell me. Please!”
“I don’t pretend to understand it either, darlin’, but I do know that if there was ever a time that Josh needed us, it’s now. Remember back at the hospital I told you that I thought it would all get worse before it gets better? Welcome to “worse”.” She stepped back and leaned back against the fence, crossing her arms and nearly mimicking the way she found Matt standing.
He kicked the pinecone as hard as he could and the two of them watched it sail across the yard and into the bushes. A breeze had picked up and was blowing Matt’s hair around, so he reached back and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. “Fuck him, man…just fuck him. I’m so tired of this. After last year…and now this shit…So much of this could have been solved or, even better yet, prevented, if he’d just talk. But he won’t.”
“No, he won’t. Not until he’s ready. You guys were the ones who told me how private he really was. I didn’t believe it at first because he’s so damn talkative all the time, but you were one hundred percent correct and it’s enough to drive anyone crazy, really.” She shredded the leaf she was holding into tiny bits, held her hand open flat and watched the pieces flutter off in the wind. “Gotta be patient with him, I guess. I know it’s hard. It’s one of the most difficult things you can ever do with anyone, I think. It’s almost impossible to sit back and wait for others to come to a conclusion about themselves that you’ve been trying to get them to realize for years. But it’ll happen. Josh is a smart guy. He’ll figure it out someday. We just have to stick with him, you know?” She squinted up into the glare of the sun and shaded her eyes with her hand before looking over at Matt.
After a moment, Matt raised his eyes to her and there was an almost stoic expression on his face. “You know what? I don’t care anymore. I don’t.” He turned to face the fence and gripped the top of it with his hand. “I just can’t care anymore. I don’t have it in me.” He kicked the fence suddenly and the whole thing shook behind the stylist. “I don’t FUCKING CARE.” He punctuated each word with a hard kick to the lower wooden boards, putting more force behind it each time. After several more minutes of taking his anger out on the inanimate object, Matt took his hand off the fence and leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees and breathed heavily. “Ok. I care.”
The stylist waited for Matt to catch his breath and right himself again. He eventually turned and stood with his back to her, embarrassed about the scene he had just caused, even though it was in front of the one person who would truly not judge him for it. He felt her hand on his shoulder and then it dropped away when he made no motion to acknowledge her. Instead, her arms slid around him and found a place to rest against his stomach. She propped her chin on his shoulder. Quietly speaking into his ear, she said, “I know you do or you wouldn’t be this angry.” Matt focused on her words and the fact that her body was warm against his chilled one. She laced her fingers together and the heat of her hands spread across his abdomen. He didn’t want to read into anything because he knew this was nothing more than one of the stylist’s gestures of calmness, but it sure as hell felt good.
Matt thought back to the year before. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest pressed against his back as well as her steady breathing in his ear was exactly what Josh had found to be so soothing last year when he had relapsed into cutting again for the first time in a decade. He had asked if she would sleep in his bunk with him because he felt like it would keep him a bit more stable and he thought it would keep him from doing something stupid. Matt and the rest of the band agreed to let Josh do whatever he felt was best for his sanity, but had found it to be a bit of an odd situation. It seemed a little too intimate for the bus life. For all they knew, Josh was just using that as a way to get her to have sex with him, but as it turned out, he truly just wanted and needed her gentleness. He wanted nothing more from her than her quiet comfort. She had the most intensely peaceful vibes that anyone had experienced in a long time and Matt could see why Josh especially had valued having her around. Matt, himself, was glad for the ease of tension now.
The stylist held onto Matt gently without moving. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the chill in the air immediately burning his nose and throat. The strong breeze whipped her hair around his face, but it was a small inconvenience compared to how relaxed and almost content he now felt. He stopped her by placing a hand over hers when he felt her start to pull away in order to tame her wind-blown curls. She understood and unlaced her fingers so she could tighten her hold on him and tuck her hands under his open jacket to keep herself warm. She moved just enough to rest her forehead against the back of his shoulder to keep her eyes from tearing in the biting wind that had become even stronger.
Voices carried, and faintly over the rustling of the dead leaves still clinging to the trees and skittering across the stone walkway, Matt and the stylist could hear Josh, Mike and Ian harmonizing on some tune. It was either a past song of the band’s or something new that Josh was working on writing, but neither of them could hear it well enough to tell. The stylist lightly ran her thumb over Matt’s ribs. She smiled when he huffed in a laugh and squirmed a little under her touch. She hadn’t meant to tickle him; she had only wanted to get his attention. She raised her head again so her voice wasn’t muffled. What she wanted to say was serious and she almost regretted making him laugh first. “You know Josh isn’t doing this to hurt you, right? You know he’s not keeping all of this shit to himself just to piss you off? That wasn’t his intention.”
Matt sighed and the stylist could feel the stress seep back into his body again. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans, pinning her arms around his waist. After a moment, he nodded. “I know. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.” It was the first time Matt had truly talked to her about himself throughout this whole ordeal and the stylist wanted to hear what he had to say. Matt didn’t love talking about himself any more than Josh did, but it seemed easier for him to do in the moment, particularly now, for some reason.
“Before all of this started, did you ever bring that up with Josh? Did you ever tell him that you wanted him to talk to you if things got bad again? Did you ever tell him that it bothers you when he doesn’t come to you?” The stylist leaned her head against Matt’s and propped her chin on his shoulder again while she waited for him to think about his answers.
”Nah. Not really. It hurts the same whether anyone knows how I feel or not. Guess that’s just how it goes.” Matt shrugged his shoulders slightly so as not to jostle her too much. He still didn’t know how she was feeling after the concussion a couple of days prior. “I don’t think Josh would have said anything even if he knew. He’s too…I dunno…he’s too inside his own head sometimes to realize. It’s not that he’s oblivious. It’s that he’s too calculated. He thinks everything through and he comes to these stupid conclusions that he’s doing everyone a favour by keeping them out of his problems without ever talking to anyone. I guess he thinks someday we’ll get sick of his shit and walk away or something. I don’t understand why. We’ve never given him a reason to believe that.”
The stylist struggled a bit, but gently pulled her arms free from around Matt’s body. She stepped forward and turned to face him. One look into his eyes told her everything she needed to know. His gaze was fixed over her shoulder in the direction in which Dawson and the rest of the band were sitting, even though they couldn’t be seen from where Matt and the stylist were currently hiding out. “I miss my friend,” Matt admitted quietly. “Things just aren’t the same when he’s like this.” He stared down at his boots and scuffed the right one along the ground. “I hate that he won’t talk to me. I hate that he won’t talk to anyone. I hate that this is just a repeat of our whole lives. I hate that this is happening again. I hate having to be there for him in this fucking situation. I hate that I can’t be there for him because I don’t know what’s going on in his fucking head. I hate that I don’t wanna do this anymore. I hate that I feel that way.”
He looked up at the stylist and she held her arms open a little wider. Matt pulled his hands from his pockets and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He never realized that having someone who was such a good listener would affect his emotions and his mental strength as much as it had. He felt better for having told someone, anyone, how he was feeling. Despite the weight being lifted from his shoulders after spilling his guts out to the stylist, thinking about it and talking about it drained him completely and all he wanted now was rest. All of this was too much for him again. So much had happened just over the last few days alone. Matt wanted to go back to the bus and sleep until the morning. No, he wanted to go back home, to Vancouver, and sleep in his own bed. He wanted to forget all of this was happening. Everyone always pitied the person going through a hard time, understandably, but no one ever gave a second thought to the people who made the choice to stand strong enough to be there for them.
The stylist slid her arms under Matt’s open jacket again and hugged him. She knew how he felt. Even though she hadn’t known the band for very long, especially compared to the amount of time they’d known each other, she and Josh had talked in circles about the very same things several times over the last year and she had also told him that she wished he would come to her or to anyone in the band if he was questioning his mental or physical stability. In spite of the promises he made to her that he would, he still chose to deal with his issues in his own way and it turned out just as everyone had feared. It hurt her too, so up until now, she could only imagine what Matt and the rest of the band were thinking and feeling.
She felt Matt take a deep breath and sigh heavily against her shoulder. He was gripping the back of her jacket tightly to keep her pinned against him. Even with the cold breeze blowing around them, the back of Matt’s shirt was soaked through with sweat. Still, the stylist tightened her hold on him a bit more. The sides of his jacket flapped against her arms in the wind and she rubbed his back to keep his damp shirt from making him colder than necessary when he shivered against her.
“Do…do I really have to go back there?” he asked, mumbling against her shoulder.
“Back where?” she asked, wondering what he could possibly mean.
“Back to sit with the rest of the guys.” Matt felt like a major asshole for even thinking that, let alone asking out loud. This wasn’t about him. It was about Josh. The guys all had a pact to always be there for each other no matter what, and now was a time when he had to prove he meant it. But Goddamn, he didn’t want to.
The stylist slid her hands a bit further up Matt’s back to rest against his shoulder blades. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to do anything, but I think you should. You know how much it means to him to have you and the other guys around. It won’t be forever, Matt. He just needs help now. He needs more help than we ever could have given him alone.”
He sighed again in resignation. “I know. I’m just so worn-out. I’m sick of dealing with this. I know it’s not continual. I know he’s only slipped up in a major way twice in two years after ten years of doing so well. But…can…can I make a confession?”
“Anything you want. I promise that it stays between us.” She felt Matt’s breathing quicken, as he was pressed so tightly against her.
“Fuck,” he whispered before giving in and admitting what he wanted to say. “Back when Josh and I were kids, I worried about him a lot. You already know that I knew what he was like back in school. I visited him in rehab and treatment the first time around. I’ve been with him in the band ever since. But…because of everything he pulled back then, it’s constantly in the back of my fucking mind that he’s going to slip back into every vice he had all over again. Every time he’s late getting back to bus call after a show. Every time I call and he doesn’t answer his phone, or he returns my calls or texts a day later. Every time he sleeps a little longer than he normally would. Any time he doesn’t sleep for days. Every time he’s a little more withdrawn than usual or every time he’s louder or more obnoxious than usual. I just can’t stop wondering if…you know…if he’s relapsing again. It’s just so fucking mentally exhausting to feel like that all the damn time and have no one to tell. Mike and Ian don’t even know. I’m not sure if they feel the same way I do or not because we just don’t talk about it. But they didn’t see what Josh was like before. They don’t know. It’s so fucking hard. Part of me feels like a traitor because I should trust Josh with his own life, you know? He’s an adult. He knows what he’s doing. But part of me will always be wary and cynical, and I hate feeling like that. Then there’s now. I may hate feeling like I don’t trust him, but then this shit happens two years in a row and it gives me every fucking reason under the sun to feel that way. I just can’t keep doing this anymore.” He leaned his forehead down against the stylist’s shoulder and took another deep breath to calm himself. He could smell the mixture of her shampoo, perfume and clothing detergent and it was a satisfying scent. It momentarily took his mind away from everything he had just said.
The stylist was temporarily stunned because she never knew Matt had been feeling this way. He’d always been a quiet man with very little to say unless he was one-on-one with someone or coming up with some crazy one-liners to make everyone laugh. It turned out that Josh wasn’t the only one who was deeper than he let on.
She slid her hands even further up his body so they were against the back of his shoulders. This held him as tightly against her as she could manage. All she wanted to do in that moment was to take away the pain that he was feeling. It wasn’t often that a situation like this came along where she wanted to absorb someone else’s pain, but here she was feeling it with two members of the same band at the same time. She wanted to save Josh from himself and she wanted to save Matt from Josh. The stylist completely understood where Matt was coming from because, as of last year, she had to admit that she also often worried about Josh if he seemed a little out of sorts to her. She personally chalked that up to just not knowing him or his mannerisms quite as well as the rest of the band, although she knew him as well as anyone possibly could for the things they’d been through together. But that certainly didn’t mean that she wasn’t occasionally reading into things that didn’t exist.
The breeze blew a gust of wind up and under Matt’s open jacket causing him to shiver violently against her. Hugging him didn’t seem to keep him warm once his sweat-soaked shirt was exposed to the cold air, so she quickly pulled her arms away from his body, dragged his coat down into place and slid her arms around his waist again, securing his jacket against the wind. Once the trembling and shivering eased, she spoke. “Darlin’, I understand. After last year, I’m more than willing to admit that it’s extremely easy to think the worst if something doesn’t seem right. I worry about him, too. I worry about all of you, but mostly Josh. It’s probably not right of either of us to think that way, but you know what he’s said in the past about other situations that he doesn’t necessarily have control over. “Hope for the best but expect the worst.” I feel like that’s probably a pretty good bit of advice for this, too. We all always have the highest hopes for him, and we don’t necessarily have to expect the worst, but we can expect that it’s a possibility. After all, it’s not exactly like he’s being interrogated every time he shows his face, right? We’re just watching out for him, and if it wasn’t for you doing that, he wouldn’t be getting the help he needs right now.”
“I know…I know,” Matt murmured against her shoulder. “It just fucking sucks. I know I need to tell him about all of this shit. Mike and Ian, too. They all need to know. And I need to know if the two of them worry about Josh as much as I do. It just feels so daunting all over again.” The stylist felt Matt release his grip on the back of her jacket with one hand and move it just enough to catch her hair to keep it from blowing into his face.
“It’s true, all of it. I think it would be great if we could all just clear the air once and for all. But you know, if there’s something you can’t say now or don’t feel like bringing up, it’s not a “speak or forever hold your peace” kind of thing. You can always talk to him or any of us. It’s never a one shot deal, okay?” She lightly patted his lower back and shifted on her feet. Now the stylist was getting cold and she wanted to get out of the wind. If she was getting chilled, Matt must have been freezing his ass off.
He squeezed her tightly one last time and let her go. Matt took a step back, releasing her hold on him as well and stared at his boots for a time before looking back up at her. “You know…I also fucking hate that I keep coming to you like this. I’m sorry we haven’t been able to hold a normal conversation without me whining at you.” He rocked back on his heels for an instant before reaching out to zip up his jacket.
“Dude…,” the stylist started, sounding slightly annoyed, which worried Matt at first. “What did we just finish talking about?”
“Josh?”
She sighed. Another incredibly intelligent man who wasn’t thinking! “Yes, but not that. I’ve told each one of you guys over and over again that it’s very much okay with me if you wanted to come to me if you ever, ever needed someone to talk to or even if you just needed a quick hug. Hell, come to me if you need both or just need an encouraging word or two. Please don’t ever feel bad about that. That’s what got Josh into the situation he’s in now. I wouldn’t make the offer if I didn’t want to be someone who tried to be there for you guys as much as possible, in every way that I can. So…no more apologizing. Deal?”
Matt nodded. “Deal. I’ll do my best.”
She held her right pinky finger out to him. “Pinky swear.”
Matt grinned at her. “Are you serious?”
The stylist smiled back at him. “It’s the only way I’m gonna be able to get it through your head, it seems. Yes, I’m serious. Serious as hell!” She tried to sound angry and stern, but underneath it all, they both knew she was doing it just for show and just to make a point.
Matt hooked his own pinky with hers. “Now it’s a deal. I promise. And…thank you.”
“Just don’t forget to take me up on it, okay?” The stylist held onto Matt’s pinky with her own until he agreed.
“I won’t…I will…I…what?” He laughed at his own confusion. “Talk to you…I mean…I will…yes.”
“Okay there, Yoda.” The stylist grinned and let Matt go. “Now, do you think we’ve been missing long enough? We should probably get back to Josh and the rest of the guys, yes? Besides, you’ve gotta go pretend to be a musician. Remember Dawson and the promised jam session? Josh can’t play and I’m betting Dawson doesn’t have the confidence to do much on his own yet.”
The guitar player’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit…yeah…I guess I probably shouldn’t have wandered off, eh?”
“No, no, it’s fine. You needed to get out of there for a bit. I think everyone understands that. But, dude…truth be told, I’m freezing to death and I can hear your teeth chattering from here.” The stylist held her hand out to Matt, who grasped it and squeezed it gently. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
Matt didn’t have much faith that he wouldn’t blow up again just because of the seriousness and the severity of everything he was thinking and feeling, but he wanted to trust the stylist, so he allowed himself to be led back to the group. At least now he felt better after having told her what had been going on in his head regarding Josh. Those thoughts wouldn’t change any time soon, but at least someone else knew and he was glad of that.
Josh, Ian, and Mike had been singing an old song from a previous album when Matt and the stylist walked up. Dawson was holding Josh’s guitar as if it would explode in his hands at any given moment. The stylist could tell how careful he was trying to be with the singer’s “baby”, even though Josh had told him that it was okay to play his heart out if he was comfortable enough to do it.
“I’ve been stuck now so long/We just got the start wrong/One more last try/Imma get the ending right…,” Josh sang with his eyes closed and held his uninjured hand against his chest as he often did when he was on stage and really feeling the music.
Ian kept the beat with his shakers and Mike had taken over Matt’s vocals as well as his own. “You can’t stop this and I must insist/That you haven’t had enough/You haven’t had enough…”
Just as Josh was about to chime in with his vocals again, Matt and the stylist walked up. The blond quickly shut his mouth as if he was embarrassed to be caught singing for the first time in his life. In truth, he was just waiting to see if Matt had anything to say to him. He did notice that the stylist had a firm grip on Matt’s hand, even after they sat, and he felt that stupid fucking pang of jealousy again. Quickly, he shoved that aside and swallowed hard, as if that would help to get rid of the feeling.
“Sorry,” the brunet said, finally letting go of the stylist’s hand and reaching down to unlock his own guitar case. It was definitely warmer here on the patio since the building blocked the wind, and his fingers had thawed enough that he could now feel the strings on his guitar.
“E...everything okay?” Josh stuttered a bit.
Matt dipped his head to look down at his fingers on the frets of the guitar and nodded. “Yeah, let’s…um…just get back to this, okay?” He glanced at the stylist out of the corner of his eye and saw her frown at him a bit and shake her head. Matt supposed he should talk to Josh, but not now. He couldn’t. Today had already been hard enough. Maybe next time.
For the next three hours, the boys continued with their somewhat impromptu singing in peace. It seemed that they had the whole place to themselves because no one except Carrie had wandered through to see what they were up to.
Eventually, around six in the evening, a nurse by the name of Marietta slid open the sliding glass doors behind them and stepped out onto the patio. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. “Josh?” She interrupted the middle of the song “Shake Tramp” right during Josh’s chorus. “They slap you like a bitch…” He shut his mouth again and cringed. Well, hell, he’d be here long enough. They’d have to get used to his mouth eventually.
“Yeah?” he asked, looking up at her after Dawson and the rest of the band quieted their instruments.
“It’s six o’clock,” Marietta said, pointing to the watch on her wrist. “Your visitation is up. Dinner is in about fifteen minutes and we expect you and Dawson to be there.” She gave Josh a pointed look, turned and walked back into the building, closing the door behind her.
“Well, fuck,” Josh said quietly.
Matt was the first to drop his guitar back into the case, snap it shut and stand. He was still tense and really radiating that feeling. Mike followed suit with his bass. Ian slipped the shakers into his pocket, stood and shoved his chair back under the table.
The stylist copied Ian’s movement, but then knelt down on one knee in front of Josh. She put her hands on his knees and looked up at him. “You’ll be alright. You call us if you need us, okay? I know it’s been a rough afternoon, but you’re fine. Believe that?”
Josh stared into her eyes briefly and thought. Did he believe it? He might have had a complete meltdown in front of everyone just a couple of hours ago, but he got through it. He looked at the palm of his injured hand and realized yet again that he didn’t tear himself to shreds when he could have. He was okay. He was stronger than everything in his head. Josh nodded slightly and his hair fell into his eyes. The stylist stood and brushed his hair back with ice cold fingers that made him pull back from her quickly.
“You’re fucking freezing! Get away from me!” He laughed and stood to take a few steps away.
She wiggled her fingers at him and lunged forward, catching the back of his shirt, yanking it up and resting her cold hands against his lower back. “AAAHHHH!!” he growled and swatted her hands away. “Get the fuck outta here!” With a smile, he threw his right arm around her shoulders letting her know that he really would be okay, even if he didn’t say it out loud.
The stylist grinned at him and hugged him against her side. “We’ll miss you terribly,” she said dramatically, using a horrible southern United States accent.
“Liar,” Josh responded with a smile of his own.
She was about to dispute it until Mike spoke up. “No, no, he’s right. It’s finally quiet on the bus for the first time ever!” Mike shot Josh a look just to make sure he was taking it as well as it was intended. “There’s no one prowling around at four in the morning.”
“Hey, that’s not my fault!” The singer opened the sliding glass door to let everyone into the building. “It’s inSOMnia,” he said, putting emphasis on the word. “I’d sleep if I could, dude!” He knew his friends were screwing with him and he loved them for it. He’d worry more if they didn’t. It was really Josh’s way of knowing that they believed he would be okay once they left, too.
Josh walked the group to the front doors and once again, everyone threw themselves against him in a group hug. He hung on Mike and Ian, who had trapped the stylist against Josh’s chest. “Let me out! Let! Me! Go!” she laughed and weaseled her way out of the embrace. “By the way, one of you smells really good, but I don’t know who it is, so you’ll have to fight that out for yourselves.”
Stepping back, she bumped into Matt, who had uncharacteristically hung back from everyone. The stylist furrowed her eyebrows at him a bit and he gave her a slight smile, all of which went completely unnoticed by everyone but Dawson, who had kept his own distance, unsure of whether he should have followed the group or not. He felt like he was obligated to thank them for letting him hang out with them.
Once Mike and Ian pulled away from Josh, the stylist stepped up to Dawson and held her hand out. She squeezed his hand gently. “It was good meeting you. Keep this guy in line, would you? You’re more mature than he is, don’t let him fool you,” she said nodding toward Josh and smiling.
Josh rolled his eyes and laughed. “It’s true, I can’t deny it!”
Ian patted Dawson on the shoulder. “You’re a good guitar player. Keep with it, man. Remember what I said about the phone, too.” That confused everyone in the room, but it was between Ian and Dawson alone, so they let it slide.
Matt gave a small wave to the teenager before switching his guitar to the other hand and turning to walk out of the building without a word to Josh. Everyone else said their goodbyes and headed back to the bus, but not before the stylist turned back to Josh and mouthed silently, “it’s okay.” He nodded, a little hurt by the fact that Matt was being so distant, but he deserved that, he supposed. He watched them walk out to their rented car and sighed quietly. What a vagina of a day, he thought to himself before turning around.
“So,” he faked a smile as he spoke to Dawson, “what did you fuckin’ think, man??”
For the first time since Josh had introduced himself, Dawson smiled at him. “It was pretty cool. Um…thanks…” He held Josh’s guitar out to him and Josh grabbed the handle. “And thank those guys, too. They left…you know…before I could say anything…”
The older blond nodded, indicating that he would. “Wanna drop by again later, maybe after dinner or something? You can play some of the new stuff I’m trying to write so I can hear it out loud. You’re pretty good and even if you’re not as good as I am, I can still get the idea.” Josh puffed his chest out and smirked.
Dawson laughed and shifted on his feet. “Fuck you, dude…fuck you. But…yeah. I’ll be there.” With that, he turned and walked in the direction of the dining room.
Josh sighed again, letting the smile leave his face. No more faking it. It was a relief. He felt okay for the time being, but what he really wanted was time to himself. He just wasn’t going to get it until later. Now he had to go choke down whatever they served him for dinner. He stuck his tongue out of his mouth and played with the metal stud through it before turning and heading to his room to drop off his guitar first.
Finally seated in the dining room, he watched several of the other “inmates” who were within his immediate vicinity. Portia caught him looking and smiled at him, but luckily she was involved in a conversation with whoever she was sitting next to and didn’t get up. Josh didn’t feel much like eating and didn’t feel like explaining why. This time, it wasn’t a bulimia issue. He just had a lot happen today and he was still kind of stressed. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to mindlessly shove this chicken and rice around on his plate with his fork until he was allowed to leave.
Unfortunately for him, the nurse-in-pink walked up while he was absent-mindedly stabbing at his food and gently sat in the chair across from him when he wasn’t looking. “Josh, how’re you doing?”
He looked up at her and set his fork down on his plate. “Are you asking if I’m thinking of jamming this fork into my eye?” He purposely gave her the most eerie smile he could muster just to make her wonder.
“No,” she said softly, “I’m asking how you’re doing. I know you had a bit of a rough afternoon. And I know sometimes it’s hard for patients to deal after their family and friends visit for a few hours and then leave again. So I truly am just asking how you’re feeling.” She folded her hands on the table in front of her and waited for Josh’s answer.
Now he felt a little bad for being an ass. He truly didn’t know how to respond, though. “Fuck, well…I’m okay. You know what happened. I’m…it was…yeah, I’m okay.” Josh nodded, truly feeling like he was talking himself into being fine. It was better than dwelling on not being alright. He supposed the nurse had seen all of this and more before in her time here, so what Josh was thinking and feeling wasn’t new. She probably knew what he was going to do before he did, so he gave in. “I fuckin’ miss them. And that whole shitstorm with what’s-her-face this afternoon sucked, but I’m still here.” He meant that he was still alive, he hadn’t done anything drastic. If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he was damn proud of himself for getting through it, even if nothing was done nearly as gracefully as he would have liked.
The nurse-in-pink smiled at him with knowing eyes that said she was sure there was more going on in his head than he was telling her, but that she trusted him. Josh knew that look. His stylist had given him that look more times over the last two years than he could count. He might as well just talk because it would come out eventually. “Okay, okay…here’s the fuckin’ deal…”
The nurse held her hand up. “Wait, before we get into this, would you like to talk here or privately?”
Josh thought for a moment. He didn’t really want everyone knowing what was going on in his life, although he suspected they would by the time he left. But still, maybe it would be better if they took a walk. “Not here,” he finally said.
“Okay, then here’s what we’ll do. Eat a little and then we’ll go talk.” The nurse-in-pink smiled at him again with that same look. She sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, waiting for him with seemingly all the patience in the world.
He sighed but quickly ate several mouthfuls of the bland food on his plate. He didn’t want it, so he didn’t even taste it. He just shoveled it in, chewed and swallowed as if he was operating on autopilot. Finally, when he had eaten half of what was on his tray, Josh set his fork down and looked up at her. He truly was full. Any more and there might be a repeat of what happened his first night there. Was that really just the night before?
“Done?” the nurse asked, reaching out for his tray.
He nodded and handed it over to her. “Okay, I’m going to take this back to the kitchen for you and then we’ll go talk. Just wait here.”
Minutes later, the nurse-in-pink was back and the two of them had wandered off to the lobby where they could sit and talk about how Josh was feeling and what exactly had happened with Carrie out on the patio that afternoon. Josh was in capable hands, even though the idea of talking to anyone outside his group of friends had, quite frankly, scared him shitless.
Back on the bus, Matt had not-so-carefully unloaded his guitar and dropped it in the back lounge. From there, he hadn’t even glanced at the rest of the group before he crawled straight into his bunk and closed the curtain. He hadn’t said much of anything to anyone during the whole drive back from the Center after visiting Josh, either.
Mike and Ian sat at the table slowly eating some Chinese food that they had stopped to pick up on the way back. When asked what he wanted, Matt just shrugged his shoulders and told them to get whatever looked good and he’d be fine with it. The stylist sat on the bench seat across from the table with her legs tucked up under her. She was too exhausted to eat. It had been a hell of a week for everyone and she wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she still felt like there was a lot they needed to talk about. They were all adults, of course, but for some reason, she felt like if she didn’t bring up the conversation, it would never happen.
“Pretty good food,” Mike commented, jamming a full fork into his mouth.
“Yeah, not too bad,” Ian agreed, biting into an eggroll.
The three of them sat in the front lounge avoiding the topic they should have been talking about- Matt and Josh. Mike and Ian didn’t know what Matt and the stylist had talked about and she didn’t want to tell them, as it just wasn’t her place.
Frustrated, the stylist uncurled her legs and stood. Mike and Ian watched as she walked back toward the bunk area, opened the door that separated it from the front lounge and closed it behind her. She knew she was treading on thin ice…again…but it was time to get everything out in the open. By this point, she didn’t care if she was hated. She was just tired of the tension.
She took all of thirty seconds to work up some courage, then marched herself over to Matt’s bunk. He slept in the bottom bunk across from Josh’s, so she slid the singer’s curtain back and sat on the edge of the bed. “Matt,” she said gently and waited for his response.
“No,” he said from the other side of the curtain.
“Matt, come on. Don’t make me go through this all over again. Josh is the stubborn one, not you. You willingly talk to me, remember?” The stylist leaned over and put her elbows on her knees. She pulled her sleeves down over her hands and played with the cuffs while she spoke. “There’s too much shit going on in your head for you to stay quiet. Let’s go talk to the guys. You’ll feel better,” she rationalized. She reached out and tugged on his curtain a bit.
In his bunk, Matt was curled on his side facing the wall. He had his hand tucked under his chin and his eyes closed. He wasn’t remotely tired. He just wanted to ignore the world for a little while. He suddenly realized that this must be how Josh felt from time to time whenever anyone tried to pry into his head. Somewhere inside, though, he knew the stylist was right. He did want to talk, and he would. He just didn’t know whether he should face the music now or face everything with a vengeance later. He pulled his knees a bit tighter up to his chest and groaned quietly into his fist. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Shifting again, he turned onto his opposite side and slid the curtain back. Matt stretched his arm out, bent it at the elbow and propped his head up against his hand. The stylist slowly slid off Josh’s mattress and sat on the floor with her legs crossed, knees touching Matt’s bunk. “So, how’s everything?”
“I hate that you can do that,” were his first words.
“Do what?” she asked, feeling like she knew what he was about to say.
“That. Get into my head. I don’t know how Josh deals with that.” Matt wasn’t really angry at her. He was just feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders again and he was, well, cranky and taking it out on the stylist unnecessarily. He wasn’t in the mood to apologize, but he would later. He was sure of it. He just hoped she understood now.
“It’s a blessing and a curse,” she said smiling gently. “On a more serious note, I’m sorry I’m pushing you. It’s just…,” she paused and looked down at her hands folded in her lap, “remember what you said earlier about worrying about Josh?” She waited for Matt to acknowledge what she said before going on. Once he nodded, she picked up her thought again. “Well…I worry, too, when he gets distant. And I understand that everyone needs time to themselves, to think, to process, to jerk off, whatever…but the thing is, when you act like this, it’s out of the norm and it’s really reminiscent of the way Josh gets. So, now I’m worried about you, too.”
Matt felt his anger give way to something much softer. His breath caught in his chest for half a second when he realized that the stylist cared about him as much as she cared about Josh. Why the hell didn’t he truly see that before? She had repeated it over and over again and he had said he believed it. He supposed that up until now, he’d just never needed her to prove it, but now here she was talking to him in the same way that she spoke to Josh during his most desperate measures. “I…,” Matt started, but didn’t know where to go from there.
The stylist looked back up at him and tilted her head slightly to the side. “It’s ok,” she said quietly. “I know you’re not Josh. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to compare you two. I just wanted you to know that he’s not the only one I care about. He’s not the only one I’m here for, you know?” She dipped her head back down so that her hair fell into her face, mimicking a move that Josh had made time and time again.
Fuck. “No…no…please, no. Don’t…I…,” Matt stammered for a bit. He closed his mouth when he realized that he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t let her apologize for this. This wasn’t her fight. He finally sat up in his bunk and slid to the floor next to her with his feet pressed against Josh’s bed and his legs bent at the knees. They were hip-to-hip facing in opposite directions. Matt leaned over slightly and nudged the stylist with his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” the brunet said quietly, propping his forearms on his knees. He fiddled with a loose string on the curtain of Josh’s bunk. “I’m not trying to shut you out. I don’t want to take this out on you. This is between Josh and me. I’m just trying to keep this together. You got caught in the middle, unfortunately. Like I said back at the Center, I’m just…so tired. I wish this whole thing with Josh wasn’t constantly fucking gnawing at me. There were so many times in our past that I’d get this call at two a.m. and he knew I’d be wide awake, and I’d have to drive out to some place in the middle of God-knows-where to pick him up because he was too drunk to get himself home. Or someone else would call and tell me that Josh wasn’t up to driving and I would have to go get him, drag him into the house and throw him into my bed so he could sleep it off. He doesn’t know this, but, once I sat up all night watching him to make sure he was still alive. That’s…you just don’t forget something like that, you know? That doesn’t just go away.”
Matt stared at the wall of Josh’s bunk with a far-away look in his eyes, remembering one major turning point in their lives. The stylist turned to look over at him. “What’s going on in your head?” she asked quietly, using the same line on Matt that she had used so often on Josh. She shifted her body so she was facing the same direction he was.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell the story, but it was probably time that someone knew. Fuck it if Josh didn’t want him to tell. Matt had promised that he wouldn’t let anyone else in on their story, but screw Josh. He wasn’t here now. Matt didn’t want to betray his friend but he was angry and he wanted to talk.
He looked over at the stylist who was back to playing with the cuffs of her sleeves and thankfully not staring at him. “I have something I want to tell you…,” he started.
He had been sixteen with a driver’s license for several months, and after working part time after school for two years, had finally saved up enough money to buy some kind of second…third…forth-hand car. It didn’t matter. All Matt knew was that it was blue, it ran, had a killer stereo for its time and it was all his.
It was a warm Tuesday night in early June. School had let out until September two days prior and Matt had rejoined his summer job with the lawn maintenance crew full time until school started again in the fall. After working a long twelve hour shift, he was exhausted. He was too exhausted to even eat or shower. He’d do that in the morning.
Matt fell face first into bed, only stopping long enough to untie his boots and toe them off in the middle of his bedroom floor. He was covered in grass clippings from the knees down and smelled like lawnmower fuel, but he didn’t care. This was more grueling than studying to pass his final exams. He figured he’d get used to the hard work by the time he went back to school to sit behind a desk for the next nine months. With those thoughts in his head, he fell asleep with his hand under his cheek and feet hanging off the end of the bed not long after midnight.
At two o’clock in the morning, the phone beside his bed rang, scaring the shit out of him. Matt jumped, sat up and blinked rapidly to get his eyes to focus. He picked up the handset and rasped, “Hello?” into the receiver.
“Matt! Matty! HEY! What, were you fuckin’ asleep? It’s so early! The night is youngggg!! Look,” Josh slurred through the phone without giving Matt a chance to respond, “I’m gonna need…I need…dude, come fuckin’ pick me up.” Matt rolled his eyes. He knew that Josh, at a year and a few months older, drank sometimes and he’d already had to pick up his friend more than once. He gave Josh credit for having the sense to call someone to get him each time, but this time sounded like the worst he’d ever been. He hadn’t seen Josh in about three months, despite being in the same school together and despite both of them being in the band that Josh himself had put together. Josh hadn’t been to practice in a long time and all of that had really concerned Matt, but there was nothing he could do about it since Josh had disappeared and was unreachable.
Matt shook his head and ran his free hand through his hair. “Where are you?” he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice, but knowing that even if it seeped through, Josh would never notice, and if he did, he’d never remember.
“I don’t fuckin’ know, man!” Josh laughed and took a drink of something so loudly that Matt could hear him swallow over the line. “There’s this really rad fuckin’ party. The girls, dude, THE GIRLS. Hey, you should come!” He seemed to forget that he had called to ask Matt to pick him up and instead seemed to believe this was just a friendly conversation.
Matt sighed and leaned over, stretching to reach his discarded boots with no avail. He stood and shoved them closer to the bed with his grass-stained sock-covered foot. “Josh, where ARE you? Find out where you are.”
“This party, man, this is just fuckin’ awesome. They’re playing AC/DC and Queen! You’d fuckin’ love it!” Josh laughed again and he sounded so out of his mind that it actually scared Matt. “I see a little silhouetto of a man/Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the fandango,” he sang along to the music.
“JOSH!” Matt yelled into the phone to get the older boy’s attention. “Where the fuck are you? If you don’t know, put someone else on the phone. Go get someone else. I wanna talk to someone else.” Matt was getting increasingly more angry, more because he couldn’t get through to Josh than at the actual situation.
He shoved his feet into his boots and laced them up while he held the phone between his shoulder and ear. After a minute or two, he heard Josh’s distant voice say, “Here, dude, take this,” and there was a shuffling noise.
An unknown confused voice came on the line: female. “Hello?”
“Uh,” Matt said, unsure of how to start the conversation, “I’m friends with the guy who just handed you the phone. He asked me to come pick him up but he doesn’t know the address. Do you?”
“Oh man, your friend is so wasted,” she said pulling the phone away from her ear, covering the mouthpiece and laughing at something that was happening in the background. She now yelled over much louder music, “Yeah, you’d better come and get him. He’s toasted beyond belief and no one here wants to be responsible for him.” The girl gave Matt the address, which he had to write on his hand, and told him that he might want to hurry because Josh was getting out of control.
After thanking her and reassuring her that he would be there as soon as he could, he slammed the phone back down onto the base. Matt scrambled around to find his wallet and car keys and flew out the front door of his parents’ house, not really caring who he might have woken up in his rush. Josh was apparently all the way out in Hope. They didn’t know anyone that lived that far out. Fucking asshole, Matt thought to himself as he started the car and cranked up the stereo. He rolled his windows down, hoping that the loud music and the breeze would calm his nerves before he got to Josh in roughly two hours.
Matt sped through the dark along the highway a little faster than he should have and continually kept his fingers crossed that he wouldn’t be pulled over and stopped. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to some cop why a sixteen year old kid was driving around at this time of night by himself- especially not because he was a horrible liar and he really didn’t want to have to tell the truth.
By the time Matt arrived at the address he was given, his thoughts had steadied, but his gut was twisted into knots. He didn’t know what he was going to say or do when he finally found Josh. He pulled up in front of the house, parked the car behind a line of other vehicles and got out, shoving the keys deep down into his pocket. There were people everywhere, some were on the front lawn, some were on the porch and all of them were drunk, at least. He didn’t have the slightest clue where to look for Josh, so he wandered through the crowd, turning down at least a dozen offers of something in bright red party cups.
After half an hour of looking, he finally found Josh up in one of the upstairs bedrooms with a girl. He was sitting up against the headboard of the bed, sloppily planting kisses against her shoulder and professing undying, everlasting love while she rolled her eyes and shook her head. She had looked up when Matt knocked and opened the door. “Thank God,” she said shoving herself away from Josh and up off the bed. “Take this asshole and get him out of here. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him, but I want him out of here before he gets any worse.”
“But, Amberrrr,” Josh protested, still slurring his words. He pushed himself across the bed and tried to stand, his shoes tangling in the blanket and causing him to grip the bedpost with both arms. He swung around and landed on his ass at the foot of the bed. Sliding on the now-rumpled blanket, he dropped to the floor in a fit of giggles.
Matt had never seen Josh like this before and he didn’t quite know what to do. The girl Josh was calling Amber stabbed Matt in the shoulder with one finger and glared at him. “Get your friend the fuck out of here,” before throwing the door open wider and storming out.
“She is so fucking mad, dude! What did you do to her?” Josh asked between bouts of laughter.
“I didn’t do anything,” Matt growled, knowing that his tone of voice would have very little effect on Josh.
“Mattyyyyy…come on now, don’t be like that. Here, have a drink,” said Josh, picking up an empty red cup from the floor and holding it up to Matt.
“No thanks. Let’s just go,” said the brunet, stepping over the older boy’s legs and reaching down. He slid his arms under Josh’s and hoisted him to his feet. “You have to help me. Walk, damnit.” Matt kept his arm around Josh’s back and half-walked, half-dragged Josh through the room, down the stairs and out the front door, but not before hearing quite a few people loudly yelling that they were glad “the blue-haired douchebag” was leaving.
Matt sighed heavily while Josh draped an arm across his shoulders and hung on the younger boy for support. The man was so wasted that he couldn’t even stand on his own. Josh’s eyes were nearly shut as he stumbled down the sidewalk. Matt had to keep a tight grip on Josh’s belt with one hand as well as the wrist attached to the arm over his shoulders with the other. “Come on, just a few more steps. Move your ass, Ramsay. Move!”
Matt felt Josh lurch forward a bit and yanked him upright. “No, dude,” Josh mumbled and pulled his arm from around Matt. He dropped to his knees and heaved into the grass along the sidewalk. Matt took two steps back and watched as his friend leaned over, put his hands on the ground for support and lost everything in his stomach. Josh retched until his eyes teared, his nose ran and his whole body ached. This would be one hell of a ride home, Matt thought to himself.
When Josh’s stomach was finally empty, he sat back, wiped his mouth and nose with the bottom of his shirt, then placed his hands on his knees. “Fuck,” he said, his voice gritty. His throat burned and his head was spinning.
“Yeah, fuck,” Matt repeated, then stepped up behind Josh, pulling him into a standing position again. Now it was three in the morning and he was out of patience. “We’re almost to the car.” Matt resumed his hold on Josh, despite Josh smelling like vomit and a mixture of whatever he had consumed that night. He opened his car door and dropped Josh in before locking the door and slamming it shut.
Matt stood outside the driver’s side for a minute or two before opening the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed his eyes shut. He had such a headache and he couldn’t believe this shit was happening. What the hell was he going to do? By all rights, he should have just called an ambulance, but he wasn’t that smart. If he was, he would have thought of that before making the two hour drive all the way out to this fucking house. Rather than dwelling on the “should haves”, he yanked the door open, slid into his seat and slammed the door shut in anger. “What the fuck, Josh? What did you do? What did you take? What the ever loving fuck is wrong with you?”
He dug his keys out of his pocket and stuck them in the ignition, starting the car and rolling down the electric windows. If he had to travel for another two hours, he couldn’t do it locked up in a small car with the way Josh smelled. His headache was already turning into a migraine and he still had a long night ahead of him. Josh hadn’t answered his questions and Matt had yet to look over at him. Before he pulled away from his parking space, Matt cut his eyes to Josh, waiting for some kind of answer, but Josh had passed out. He put the car back in ‘park’ and threw a hand across the seat to land against Josh’s chest. Still breathing, thank God.
Matt leaned forward and put his head against the steering wheel momentarily, praying to whoever might be listening to not let Josh die before they got back home. The people at the party didn’t want to be responsible for anything happening to him and neither did Matt. He jerked the car back into ‘drive’ and pulled out into the street. He took the same directions back home, only this time, he flew down the highway as if his own life depended on it, not really stopping to give a shit if anyone caught him or not.
Once Matt was back in Vancouver, he drove around aimlessly, weaving in and out of familiar streets, trying to decide where to go. Should he take Josh home or should he go back to his own house and deal with things from there? Nothing had ever been this bad before and he was so confused, but he had no one to talk to about it. No one had seen Josh in a long time. Truth be told, Josh was never the most liked person at school and he didn’t have many friends. He was the stereotypical goof-off A.D.D smartass outcast and people seemed to avoid him because he wasn’t the most “normal” or approachable. It constantly infuriated Matt because, underneath it all, Josh was a good guy, just a little crazy all the time, despite his best efforts to hide it. However, it was nights like this that Matt understood why people didn’t want much to do with Josh. He hated to admit it, but he wished the older boy had someone, anyone else he could call to deal with him and his shit now and then.
Cutting the steering wheel to the left, Matt turned down his own street after winding through his neighbourhood for over half an hour. He pulled the car up in front of his house and killed the ignition, once again jamming the keys back into his pocket. Josh had come back around, but was glassy-eyed and staring fixedly at a point Matt couldn’t see through the windshield. “We’re here,” Matt said flatly. No response from Josh probably meant that he didn’t even hear Matt. He still wasn’t ‘with it’ and Matt wasn’t sure what to do about that at all. He just knew he had to get Josh into the house.
It was five in the morning now, but no one in his house would be awake for another two hours, at least. If he was as lucky as he hoped, his siblings and his mother, a teacher, who were all on summer break just as he was, would sleep in. His father had a typical nine-to-five job and was usually gone by eight-thirty each morning. Matt had enough time to get Josh into the house unnoticed. He just had to figure out how. It probably wouldn’t be the most silent endeavor he’d ever been through.
Matt slid out of the car and closed the door behind him quietly so it didn’t start any neighbourhood dogs barking or attract the attention of any nosy neighbours who might be peeking out their windows to see what “that Webb boy and his freakish friend” were doing. He unlocked the passenger door and opened it, all without any movement from Josh at all. He had to reach across Josh to unbuckle the seatbelt that he had to buckle himself in the first place because the older boy wasn’t coherent enough to figure it out. “Come on, Ramsay. We’re here. Get the hell up.”
Josh continued to stare out the windshield and now Matt was actually scared that Josh had fucking died on him. He waved his hand in front of Josh’s ice blue eyes to get his attention, then snapped his fingers. That motion seemed to slowly pull Josh out of his stupor. “Mmm?” he mumbled.
“Get…UP.” Matt reached in and yanked him up by the arm, nearly wrenching it out of the socket. It would serve Josh right. Matt then thought better of it, realizing that something like that would need a hospital visit and it would require explaining how it happened. More lying that he didn’t want to have to do. Instead, he held Josh up by the belt again and kicked the door closed with one foot. By now, Josh could walk a bit better on his own, but still staggered and tripped over his own feet on the walk up the driveway.
Recognizing an opportunity, Josh pulled away from Matt for the second time and leaned over the open trashcan that was stored near the garage. He puked until his stomach was empty once again. By now, he was only throwing up liquid, but it still sent searing pain up his throat and that alone made him gag for a third time that night.
Using the sides of the can to help himself stand, he motioned for Matt and Matt repeated the hold he previously had on Josh. Matt walked Josh to the side entrance of the house and pulled out his keys. He’d have less chance of being caught here than he would if he tried to drag Josh through the front door. This way, he could go straight down the hallway to his room without bypassing anyone else’s bedrooms.
Once the door was open, he walked Josh down the length of the hallway to his bedroom at the end. Matt nudged the door open with his hip and shoved the taller man towards the bed, where he collapsed on his back with his arm flung over his face. Matt shook his head and wondered if maybe he should turn Josh on his side in case he spewed again. Fuck, Josh would puke all over Matt’s bed if that happened. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Thinking as fast as he could for the time of morning it was, he flipped on the overhead light and found a trash bag, which he slit open and used to cover the side of his bed. He slid his garbage can up against the edge for good measure, then crawled up onto the mattress next to Josh. Matt took hold of Josh’s belt and shoulder and turned him so he was on his side. At least now he wouldn’t choke to death if anything happened. Matt stuffed his pillows up against Josh’s back to brace him in one position and crawled backwards off the bed. He wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, he knew.
His headache had eased a bit once he pulled up to the house and he realized that Josh was still breathing. Matt was so tense and so tired that he considered going to sleep on the couch in the living room for the remainder of the night, but quickly reconsidered.
Rather than leaving the room to even get himself aspirin, Matt turned off the overhead light and flipped on his small desk lamp. He sunk down into the more comfortable of the two chairs in his room and picked up a book. He wasn’t much for reading in general, but tonight it would give him something to do to take his mind off of things, even if it was just for a minute.
Until the sun came up, Matt read a chapter or two of his book, the words all running together and not registering in his mind, set it down and walked over to check on Josh to make sure he was still alive. Two or three times, Matt had a slight panic attack when he put his hand against the older boy’s back and couldn’t feel the rise and fall associated with breathing, only to be relieved when he realized that the halt between breaths was just momentary.
Matt eventually checked the clock and realized it had been nearly three hours since he had brought Josh home to let him sleep off whatever the hell he had ingested. That meant it was almost eight o’clock. He would have to call out of work. There was no way he was going to leave Josh in this condition. He could say he was “sitting up with a sick friend”, which was the truth, but no one would buy it because it was just so cliché. Sighing, he picked up his phone and dialed the boss’s number. He faked some story about having “stomach troubles” and was apparently convincing enough that his boss cut his story short and told him to rest up and try to make it to work tomorrow. Matt thanked him several times before hanging up and going back over to check on Josh.
He reached out and put his hand against Josh’s back for what felt like the thousandth time that night and Josh groaned quietly in his sleep, but never moved. Matt sighed, unsure of whether he was pissed off, worried, hurt or just completely drained. He decided that he was all of the above and crossed the room to drop back down into his chair. Before he knew it, he was sound asleep, his head resting on his shoulder and his book, long forgotten, laying on the floor beside him.
He was out cold - mental, emotional and physical exhaustion having gotten the better of him, and Matt had managed to sleep for about forty-five minutes until the sound of Josh throwing up woke him again. He sat up and stared at his bed, watching as the blue-haired man stuck his head into the trash can, his body jolting each time he vomited. He finally rolled onto his back and draped his arm across his face again in the same way he had done earlier.
Matt wrinkled his nose and momentarily hated himself and Josh for this whole situation, but the hate was short-lived. He was more interested in finding out what was going on with Josh than anything else. Rather than thinking about it, he stood, grabbed his desk chair and dragged it up near the bed. He sat straddling it backwards and folded his arms across the top. “Hey, Ramsay…Josh…,” he said as quietly as he could, as he was sure Josh was the one with a massive headache now.
“Ugh…fuck me…,” Josh groaned and rested his free hand against his stomach.
“Get up, we have to talk.” Matt’s eyes drifted over to Josh’s exposed abdomen. He didn’t realize it in the dark, but it looked like Josh had lost some weight. No, it was just the way he was lying. It was fine.
“No,” he responded, pulling his legs up and resting the soles of his shoes on the bed. Matt hated that, but he didn’t say anything. He had to pick his battles and this wasn’t one of them.
“Come on. I saved your ass last night and you fucking owe me,” Matt countered.
“NO,” Josh snapped again in a low, irritated voice. “Leave me the fuck alone.” He twisted his lower body until his bent legs rested on the bed.
Matt shook his head and stood. He left the room only long enough to bring back aspirin and a bottle of water, both of which he tossed onto the bed. The cold water bottle rolled back against Josh’s side, causing him to sit up quickly when it touched his bare skin. Josh gasped and raised his hand to shade his sensitive eyes from the light. The sun was up and coming through the shades, blinding him.
Now that Matt could see Josh crystal clear, he couldn’t quite understand what he was seeing. His face was flushed, but more pale than usual. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed and he had large dark circles under them as if he hadn’t slept in days. And now that Matt was really thinking about it, Josh did look thinner…much thinner.
“What the fuck are you staring at?” Josh asked, squinting his eyes as he fumbled with the cap to the medication bottle, then the one on the water bottle. He swallowed a couple of the white tablets and chugged nearly the entire water bottle before glaring at Matt.
“I’m staring at you, you asshole. Where the hell have you been? I haven’t seen you at school and you haven’t been to band practice. Then you call me up last night in the middle of the night and just expect me to come fucking rescue you? What the hell? What’s wrong with you?” Matt walked the floor.
Josh couldn’t follow him with his eyes. The pacing was making him dizzy. Instead, he stared at his feet. “I’ve just been fuckin’ out there, dude. You know. Parties to go to, things to do. I don’t have time for other shit.” His voice sounded strained and weak even to him, which suited him fine because that’s how he felt.
“What about school? What about the band? Don’t you fucking care anything about that?” Matt stopped in front of Josh, hoping Josh would look at him.
All he was met with was a shrug of the shoulders. Josh stood, holding onto the edge of the bed for support until he was steady enough to stand on his own and Matt watched him walk out of the room and leave the house without ever getting noticed. Not another word was spoken between the two for another two months.
The next time they talked, Josh was calling Matt from the rehab and treatment center, telling him how sorry he was for everything and explaining what had gone on. He had disappeared again, only this time he had somehow wound up in Toronto without knowing anyone there or even how he got there.
“And that’s how it’s always been. Josh would call and I would respond. Did Josh tell you that story and how he finally got caught with all of this shit? How he got expelled from school not long after that?” Matt concluded his own memories by turning to the stylist.
She nodded silently, still without looking at him. “And no one ever knew what happened between you two that night?”
“No,” the guitar player said softly. “When I visited him in the Center the first time, we talked about it. He didn’t remember a damn thing, and I never expected him to, but I filled him in on my end, you know, except for the whole making sure he didn’t die thing, and he asked to keep it between the two of us. Until now, I have. But, you asked what was going on in my head, so…there you go. I keep replaying that fucking night over and over and over and I’m getting really sick and tired of that repeat. That’s when I knew. That night is when I finally fucking knew that Josh was way too far gone. He told me that first time I visited him in rehab that the night of that party was when he tried heroin for the first time. He had already been drinking and he said he’d tried other drugs at other times, but that was the one that almost killed him. At least he finally admitted it months later, so I guess that’s something.”
“Matt…,” the stylist said, speaking quietly. She had so much she wanted to say, but she didn’t know where to start. This must have been what Josh meant when the two of them sat together in the bathroom and he said he “didn’t want to bore her with tales of Terrible Teenage Ramsay.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bore her, he just didn’t want her to know. “I’m sorry,” she finally said. “I had no idea… I mean, I knew that Josh had a hard time, even though he brought that on himself, but I didn’t realize that you were there for so much of that. It’s no wonder all of that stuff still creeps back up on you.”
The guitarist sniffed once and wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered. He felt the stylist’s arm slide across his lower back and she rested her head on his shoulder. He swallowed hard once, twice, then moved just enough to drape his arm over her shoulders. It was a hard story to hold on to. It was a hard story to continually let roll through his memories, but it was even more difficult to explain out loud. He might have been able to use the words, but there’s no way he could ever be able to tell the stylist or anyone else the extent of what he felt that night. He bounced between pure panic and anger for hours, even days after that, and the fact that Josh had done that to himself made it even worse. He did the best he could while telling her the details, but she wasn’t there and would never know the true magnitude of everything. No one could.
Matt stared down at the floor, working hard to compose himself and slow his heart rate down. He felt like he was experiencing all of those emotions all over again and he needed to relax. He wasn’t sixteen anymore. Josh was safe now. Matt had friends to turn to and so did the singer. He was okay. He was fine. He tightened his hold on the stylist just a little more and once again tried to focus on her silent strength. Matt breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth a couple of times and that seemed to help calm him enough to speak.
“I’m sorry,” he said for the second time.
“For what?”
“I didn’t mean to unload all of that shit on you. It was just…so much. That’s been in my head for the last ten years and I needed to get it out. All of this new stuff with Josh just had me so fucking angry. I’m sorry,” he apologized again.
“Matt, it’s okay. Honest. I’m glad you wanted to talk. I would never, ever have offered to listen and I wouldn’t be constantly trying to get into your heads if I didn’t care and if I didn’t hope and expect that you guys would eventually talk. Truly. I know how it is when the space between the things you know is blurry. Everything gets mixed up and you start to re-live old things all over again. You’re not sure what’s real, you don’t know who to trust and all of that just builds up until you snap. Right?” The stylist sat up and moved her hand to the back of Matt’s shoulder.
He nodded in agreement. “That’s exactly it. I guess it wasn’t just this situation and it wasn’t just Josh. It was everything I had never said coming back to haunt me. There’s a lot I’ve never said to him, even after all this time. I wanted to let things go, let him have a new start, you know…rather than dragging up old shit from the past. It didn’t seem right or fair to keep reminding him of who he was. Even though I know he says we don’t have to worry, I know below he’s still thinking about it. That story and probably lots more that I don’t even know about…it’s his dirty little secret.”
“Everyone has those. He’s entitled to keep that for himself.”
“Yeah, they do. You’re right, more or less. I know it seems beneath me, but, I guess I’m just tired of being shut out. I know it’s his life, but Josh just can’t keep pulling this shit. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. Sometimes it’s not so easy.” Matt raised his head and looked over at the stylist.
She reached up and smoothed down the back of his hair. “I know, darlin’. I know.”
The debate in Matt’s head was so loud that it gave him a headache before he ever left the stylist’s side to talk to Mike and Ian about what was going on with him, but eventually he tucked a leg under his body and pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll be back…” In that split second before leaving the bunk area, Matt knew what he had to do.
Speaking to Mike and Ian didn’t go well, but Matt had expected that. The best that he’d hoped for was that that they’d understand, and in the end, he was lucky enough to be able to say that they did, even if they weren’t happy with him. He understood where they were coming from, but Matt had made up his mind. His sanity needed rescuing before he exploded.
Guilt gnawed at Matt as the pilot flipped on the ‘fasten seatbelt’ sign and announced take-off. Plugging his headphones into his ears and turning on his iPod, he closed his eyes to the scene outside his window and mentally cursed himself for being such a shitty friend. It was only earlier in the day that he had made his choice and he hadn’t even told Josh about it. He took the coward’s way out. Fuck me, thought Matt. Friends don’t do that to one another. But, what’s done is done. The guitar player couldn’t back out of his decision now.
Five more hours and he would be back home. Matt could forget about Josh and all of the problems they’d recently faced for a while. Fuck it…who was he kidding? No he couldn’t. Not now, not ever.