Your Inaccessible Light

When I wake up the next morning, I still don’t feel any better. I know for sure I won’t get through the day without falling apart, and there’s no way I’m risking anyone see how weak I am. I already slipped up with Ronnie; I’m not letting it happen again. My parents have already left for work and I know they won’t be back until late evening, so they won’t know if I’ve been to school or not. I decide to take the day off because I really can’t face anyone. I text Amber to let her know I’m not coming in, but around lunchtime, I get a text from Ronnie asking where I am. I tell him I have a fever.

Common side effect of those diseases, sorry about that ;) You still coming on Saturday though? Xx

I tell him it depends how I feel, but I already know there’s no way I’m going. Whilst I know there’s no way I can avoid him completely, I think it’s a good idea to keep my distance a bit. I don’t want to find myself stuck in a mess I really don’t want to be in. Besides, he reminds me so much of Austin and I can’t face that right now.

Okay sweetie, I hope you feel better soon xx

When Saturday does arrive, I am still adamant not to hang out with Ronnie and his friends. I don’t feel as bad as I did on Thursday and Friday, but I still think it’s best to stay away from Ronnie. Seeing him will probably set me off again. At about 9.30am, I text Ronnie apologising before pulling my blankets tightly around me and trying to get back to sleep. It’s not long before I hear a knock at the door. My parents will be at work so I should probably answer it, but I really can’t be bothered. Whoever it is, is clearly determined, as they continue to knock. After a few minutes, I grow frustrated, throwing back the cover and stumbling down the stairs, the person continuing to knock on the door.

“Alright, I’m coming!” I yell as I unlock the door. I pull the door open to reveal the one person I really do not want to see. I should have known that only Ronnie Radke would be so relentless.

“What are you doing here?” I ask sleepily. Ronnie reaches out his hand and puts in on my forehead. It takes me a few seconds to realise what he’s doing but then I remember I told him I have a fever.

“I knew you were bullshitting,” he smirks. I let out a sigh, pulling the door open further to allow him into the house.

“Ronnie, it’s too early in the morning, I look like shit, I feel like shit. I strongly advise you not to piss me off,” I tell him sternly and he chuckles.

“Fucking tell me about it; I haven’t gotten up this early on a Saturday in months. You should count yourself lucky,” he declares, “Now get yourself ready because we’re going out.”

“I’m not going out,” I tell him simply.

“Why not?”

“I already told you; I look like shit and I feel like shit.”

“You look fine Noelle, and don’t lie to me; you’re not ill.”

“Just because I don’t have a fever anymore, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel ill.”

“You’re a shitty liar. You have fifteen minutes to get ready and come with me,” he says nonchalantly.

“You’re an arsehole. You have fifteen seconds to get the hell out of my house.”

“Come on, I came all this way to spend the day with you,” he persists, flashing me the most adorable face.

“Oh god, that five minute drive must have been really difficult for you,” I tease and he smirks.

“Just go get ready.”

“Where would we even be going?” I sigh and Ronnie’s face lights up.

“Well, we have all weekend so whatever the fuck you want.”

“Do you know what I want to do?” I ask, “I want to go to LA.”

“You wanna go to LA?” he cries, “Jesus Christ, you don’t want a lot then.”

“Please, I’ve never been to LA,” I plead. He thinks for a moment, weighing up the options in his head before a smile creeps across his face.

“You owe me,” he smirks, shaking his head as I squeal and give him a hug before dashing upstairs to get ready. I know I planned on avoiding him, particularly this weekend, but he’s made it clear that’s not even an option. If I have to see him, we might as well do something fun that will take my mind off of everything. I change into some faded blue denim shorts and an Aztec print crop top, deciding to make the best of the last few days of summer. Then I brush my hair, and apply my make-up before placing my sunglasses on my head and scrubbing my teeth. I haven’t been on a holiday or trip since I was really young, so I don’t really know what to pack. I throw a few essentials into a small bag along with a change of clothes. When Austin died and my parents sold most of his things, they gave me a share of the money, so I take about $300 deciding that will be the maximum I will need. I’m always careful with how I spend money, particularly money that came from Austin. I like to spend it on things I know he would approve of. I’m not too sure whether he’d approve of this last minute trip.
He’d probably laugh and roll his eyes and remind me that if I don’t stop being so impulsive, I’ll get myself into trouble. Then I’d laugh and roll my eyes and remind him that he’s the one who needs to worry about getting himself into trouble. I smile at the thought, trying desperately to ignore the feelings of longing. Personally, I see nothing wrong with going on a spontaneous road trip with a guy I know little about except for the fact he’s a drug addict. How bad could it be? Potentially disastrous. Then again, it could be potentially brilliant. It’s all how you look at things, I believe. There’s something warm and comforting and safe about Ronnie. There’s something about him that demands I trust him.

“Ready,” I tell Ronnie as I return downstairs and throw on my battered old pair of Converse.

“About fucking time,” he smirks as we go outside to his van. I throw my bag into the back as he starts the engine. “I’ve just gotta stop at my house real quick to grab some stuff.”

“Sure,” I agree, “One rule though.”

“What might that be?”

“No drugs,” I tell him simply. He is silent for a moment and I feel myself start to panic. What if he doesn’t agree to it?

“First you want me to take you to LA, now you want me to go the weekend without doing even one line? Are you mad?”

“Please,” I beg, trying not to sound too pathetic.

“I never had myself down as a pushover,” he smirks, shaking his head before getting out the van and dashing up the drive to his house. I think that means he’s agreeing to it, right? I smile, because the fact he can cope a weekend without drugs is a good thing. Austin wouldn’t have been able to do that. Apparently Ronnie isn’t as dependent as I assumed. That thought can’t help but bring a smile to my face.